#home from work which means it's time to be annoying >:)

[somanyideassolittletime]

To be loved is to be changed.

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader

Summary : 3 ways you changed Jack, and one time Jack changed you.

Warnings: fluff, Jack is in love with his wife, language, grammar inaccuracies (maybe? idk), so much fluff I felt giddy writing this.

Author's note: I love Jack so much, enjoy!

| one

Jack, albeit all of his typical stereotypes people use to box him into, is secretly tech-savvy. It comes with the job, he supposed. Working in a field where technology is always evolving, he learnt to adapt, and he learnt to love it. It started with geeking out when the newest, most updated machine was delivered to the hospital, up to buying himself handheld medical pieces of equipment delivered to your door – he would wait for you at home before unboxing the most recent ‘toys’ he ordered, and he would talk your ears off about how cool and innovative it is. 

You loved it, you loved hearing him talk passionately, you love that even after all this time working in his job, he still finds wonders in it (it doesn’t help that he looked so hot with his forearms flexed, knife in hand, while opening the package).

He understands technology, he does. But he doesn’t get the idea of FaceTime. He wasn’t a big texter himself; nothing beats the good old phone calls, where you can get your point across without fear of miscommunication on both sides. Even when you dated, you never went as far as FaceTime; it was always a phone call with a promise of meeting each other, and now that you are married, sharing his home, he still doesn’t get it.

“Why do you even need to look at their faces when you call? What matters is what you say, y’know, besides, it’s awkward to call someone with your phone far away from your ears,” He once said while holding you tightly in his side, cuddling in his far too comfy leather couch. Both of you watching a movie, where the scene of people facetiming each other just finished. You laughed at him back then, nudging his sides, “Eh, don’t knock it till you try it, hon.” 

What a turn of events now for him, as you were called away across the country for a few guest lectures and seminars for two weeks. Away from Pittsburgh, away from him – that he finds himself thankful for whoever invented the damned thing. He’s sitting on his bed, currently deprived of your presence beside him, when he decides to try out FaceTime. 

 “Hi, handsome,” you pick up on the first ring, he’s greeted with the face he’s been missing for the past few days, smiling at him. He sighs in contentment, he finally gets to see your face. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

He can hear you rustling around, looking for something to prop up your phone before you settle on your water bottle. Your screen is now steady. You grin at him, “Finally getting the whole FaceTime thing now, huh?” 

He huffs, “Don’t wanna get used to it, i’d rather have you here.” he starts, “But yeah, thank god shit’s exist. Been so long since I've seen that face.” 

“I’ve been here four days and you turned grumpy, huh?” You tell him, referring to the text Dana sent you earlier, “Your husband is Mr. Grumpy. Med students scared to approach him all day” 

“What do you mean?” You’re still grinning at him, you’re afraid your cheeks might be too sore to talk to the faculty tomorrow. “Dana texted me, said you were being bad teacher.” 

He groaned, “I’m annoyed at everything, it seems.” he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear him on the other end. He’s holding the phone a little too close to his eyes, he squints to look at you. You noticed it, “Wear your glasses, hon.” He hates wearing his glasses, which you know, but he’s squinting so hard you’re afraid he’s gonna get a headache later on. He’s contemplating debating you, but he knows that you’re right; he’s getting too old to see something so close to his eyes now. 

“Ugh, fine. Wait,” he puts his phone in the bed, now his screen is showing the ceiling of the bedroom you share back home. A few rustling and groans later, you find yourself looking at Jack wearing his glasses. Your breath hitched. The sight of him in his glasses always gets to you, even after all this time. “Looking good, Dr. Abbot,” you joke. He smiles, “You’re Dr. Abbot yourself.” You frowned mockingly. “I was looking at my reflection, y’know.” 

He laughs, and your heart aches to be with him. You missed him as bad as he missed you, it seems. You lift your phone, standing up now, he’s curious, “What are you doing?” You reverse the camera now, showing your room. “I’m doing a room tour. Now shut up and listen to me yap.” 

He gladly obeys, he loves listening to your voice, he watches as you explain everything in your room, from the bathroom, the wardrobe, the bed, all the way to the balcony. His eyes caught something when your camera points at your desk, a familiar bottle of cologne – one he’s been wearing for ten years – so he decides to jab at you. “Is that why I can’t find my cologne in my bag?” You turn the camera facing you, and he’s glad now that he can see your face again. “I miss you. Sue me.” You stick your tongue out at him. How he wishes to wipe that shit eating grin from your face. 

“I’m suing you for that with a lifetime with me,” he says earnestly. You look at him fondly, “Jack Abbot, I didn’t know you get sappier the further we departed.” He puts his phone on the nightstand, angled so that you can still see his face, pulling the comforter up to his chin. 

“I miss you so much, baby,” you blegh at the nickname, phone now back at your desk, “You sounded like a teenager,” he chuckles, he looks at you putting on your glasses, the light from the laptop reflecting in your eyes. “Talk to me,” you say.

So he did, he tells you about the shift he’s had today while you’re typing away at your laptop, looking at him every once in a while. He tells you about the boy who went berserk, hands flailing around, making Langdon drop the scalpel in his hand, dropping it to his prosthetic feet, panicking the entire trauma room, only for him to be unfazed. You laugh fondly at him, eyes twinkling with the same mesmerization you only hold for him (and for a crazy innovation that you find interesting). 

He’s holding his yawn, but you know better. His eyes are glassy now. “Go to sleep. It’s late,” you say, he obeys you, taking off his glasses, relaxing into his pillow. “Don’t turn it off,” he says softly, eyes fluttering. You shake your head, “I’ll turn it off when you snore,” he huffs, “what? You snore.” you start, “But I need to hear you snore to sleep nowadays.” you explain. 

His eyes are half-closed now, and he finds himself relaxed, hearing your breaths on the other side, keys clacking softly. “I love you,” he whispers to you. You stopped your typing, now looking at his eyes fully closed, “I love you too, goodnight, hon.” 

For the next 7 days, he finds himself loving FaceTime, finds himself looking forward to FaceTime with you every night before he sleeps, and like other technology he once frowned at, he finally gets it. 

| two

Jack is not a man of pop culture, he never understands the appeal of it. He rarely watches movies by himself, let alone pop culture movies or series. But you loved it to no end, you often ask him to watch those movies with you, ranging from sci-fi, fantasy, to superhero movies, whatever you want to watch, he’ll gladly oblige. He’ll pretend to be uninterested in your series whenever you watch it alone with him moving around the house. But you always find him standing behind the couch, watching the show intently, before finding him beside you, starting to give commentary on what's happening on the screen. And slowly, he finds himself enjoying watching those movies and series with you. 

He loves watching you explain to him about the complexity of a character you like, loves hearing you badmouth a character you hate, and when you both find yourself watching sci-fi movies with futuristic technologies, he finds himself falling a little harder, hearing you explain to him the concept of the technology in said movies. “I don’t understand a single word you just said. Is this what you feel when I explain procedures to you?” he once asked you. You nodded, “Yeah, pretty much, but you’re hot when you’re explaining it. So I love it,” you said to him. And he agreed with you on that one. 

Jack was covering the night shift tonight, it’s Halloween night, so he’ll find himself drowning in patients in costumes, no doubt. You had dropped him off earlier with a kiss on his cheek and a promise to pick him up later in the morning.  

He’s talking to a ten-year-old kid in a yellow uniform, one he recognized as a Star Trek uniform when Ellis enters the room, “I got this, Abbot. You go ahead,” she says to Jack. Jack nods at her before saying, “You’re in good hands, kiddo.” Ellis looks at the boy in the bed, saying, “Well, what do we got here, Mr.Spock?” The kid was about to protest when Jack reactively says, “He’s Captain Kirk,” Earning a look from Ellis. He fistbumps the kid and leaves the room, fully trusting Ellis. 

The rest of the shift is pretty slow, filled with kids getting food poisoning from the candy being given away, typical drunks, and some OD patients from parties. It was now one hour left in the shift, everyone was either hanging by the hub or just doing a frequent check for their patients. He was charting when Shen and Ellis approached him.

“Hey, Abbot. How’s the stormtrooper guy?” Shen asks him. He’s currently scanning through his memory, not finding a single stormtrooper costume in his recollection of the night. “We haven’t got a stormtrooper,” He frowns at Shen. Shen points his fingers over Jack’s shoulder, he turns his head – now looking at a man in a Mandalorian get-up, his helmet on the chair beside the bed – he turns back to Shen, “That’s a fucking Mandalorian, good to go in a few hour, ” Shen doesn’t say anything, opting to look at Ellis beside him. Who, for the second time that night, gave him a weird look. He’s been doing medical procedures that might be crazy ballsy for some, but never once he received that look from either Ellis or Shen until tonight. 

“Okay, you know what, what the hell?” Ellis starts, “You corrected me earlier cause of a fuckin costume, and now, what the hell, man?” Jack shrugs, “What?” Shen points his finger at Jack, his voice accusatory, “Dude, you only ever turn your TV on for penguins games, now you tellin me you know fuckin sci-fi shit, now.?” Jack looks at him, “Wrong, I turn on my TV for the Steelers and Pirates too,” he says casually. 

“Ugh, you know what we meant. Since when do you even watch that stuff?” Ellis says exasperatedly. Jack crossed his arms, shrugging, “My wife likes that stuff.” He says that so casually that Shen and Ellis might combust at his tone. 

Shen laughs at him, “Holy shit, you’re whipped.” Jack smirks, “Yeah, I wouldn’t get married if I weren’t.” his hands find the ring in his necklace now. Fully smiling at Shen and Ellis, both of whom groan at him. “Ughhh, please be a simp somewhere else, not here.” Shen rolls his eyes. 

Shen and Ellis walked away from him before he muttered, “God forbid a man is in love,” smiling to himself with the thought of you in his mind. 

So slowly but surely, he understands the appeal now that he can see how your eyes lit up every time he referenced something. And like any other form of entertainment, he once cringed at, he finds himself enjoying and looking forward to the next time he has you curled up beside him, whispering theories he doesn’t get. Anything that makes you happy, it seems, makes him happy. 

| three

Jack is a man of many talents, but not of many coffee orders. He takes his coffee as plain as possible. Black, no sugar. He never ordered his coffee sweet, not before he met you at least. For him, coffee should be something simple, he doesn’t need extra flavor in his coffee, he just needs it to fuel him through the day. 

But you? You take your coffee as abstractly as possible. Though you do enjoy a plain black coffee once in a while, once the occasion calls for it, you actually prefer some flavor and sweetness in your coffee. 

“black , no sugar, please. What about you hon,” he asked you, ordering for himself to barista; he never ordered for you since he knew he would botch the task. “Uh, let me think. I ordered the almond latte yesterday. I think I’ll go with hazelnut today, please. Thank you,” you answered to the barista, who punched in some buttons. Jack tapped his card to pay before moving over to wait for your order. 

“Here, try this. You’ll like it.” you said to him. He shakes his head, refusing to take a sip. “Just try it, I swear” he takes the coffee in his hand, sipping on it. Fuck. that’s good. He thought. He bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile, not wanting to give you the victory. You pointed at him victoriously, “aha! You like it don’t you.” he shrugged, giving you back your coffee. “Eh, black’s still better.” though you know that he actually enjoys it. 

But now that it’s been a while since the two of you went on cafe dates, he finds himself missing your random coffee order. So when the opportunity comes for him to drink your coffee order, he’ll take it. 

“Hey, I’m ordering coffee, your usual?” Robby asks him, typing in his notes app to list everyone’s coffee order. Jack thinks for a second before answering him, “I’ll have a vanilla latte,” earning a raised eyebrow from Robby, who types it down without question before moving over to the others. Making a mental note to ask him later on. 

It was a while later when the order came in, and everyone stopped by the break room to take their coffee. Jack is greeted by Langdon and Robby inside, both holding their coffee. Langdon doesn’t even think before handing him a black coffee, one that Jack doesn’t take. “It’s not mine,” he says, walking over to the table, reading the labels in each cup before settling on his order. 

He holds it in a way that the label is visible to Langdon, who looks at him weirdly, “a Latte? Really? Vanilla latte?” Langdon asks him. Jack sips on his coffee before entertaining Langdon, “What? It’s good,” he answers. Langdon, who looks at Robby as if saying, dude, you seeing what I’m seeing???. Robby teases him, “Yeah, I don’t think that cuts it, brother.” 

Jack huffs, sipping some more, “Fine. My wife takes her coffee like this.” he wants to look annoyed, but he can’t bear himself to do it; not when he just drank your coffee order, being reminded of you seems to have that effect on him. 

“I’m a married man myself, but I never even order my coffee her way, man.” Langdon laughs at him. Robby smiles at him, putting his hand on Langdon’s shoulder, slightly leaning toward him. “I believe we are seeing Jack in love. What is it? To be loved is to be changed?” says Robby to Langdon’s who laughed at Jack. 

Jack wants to retort something smart as usual, but somehow, he doesn’t want to. So he opted to just smile at both of them before taking his coffee outside the break room. 

Because yeah, he might realize himself that his preference is changing, but what Robby said earlier was right, that he’s in love and that he’s loved – and he wouldn’t change that for the world. 

But the next time the two of you went on your cafe dates, he would still order his usual, not because he wanted it, he ordered it because for him, nothing beats the mischievous smile you gave him after asking him to try your coffee. (and it doesn’t help that he liked seeing your lip product mark on his cup after you drink his coffee, and that both of you just did an indirect kiss) Though that was a thought he’ll keep to himself forever. 

+1

“How do I look?” you walk into the living room, twirling your body to Jack, who is sitting on the leather couch, now looking at you. You were sporting a Penguins jersey with a big 87 on the back, CROSBY above it. You were offered a sideline ticket to the Penguins game by your friend, which you excitedly accepted. So here you are, getting ready for the game with the Penguins heartbreaker’s Jersey on you. 

Jack smiles at you. “Well, you look like you’re drowning in it, Mrs. Crosby,” he says coyly. You frown at him, walking over to him, “Jack, as much as I love Sid, I actually prefer being Mrs. Abbot,” you say to him, leaning down to give his lips a peck.

Jack puts his hand on your waist, capturing your lips on his. Pulling back, Jack let out a breathy chuckle, “Yeah? Say that after you see him, hon. You know I’m straight, but he’s hot as hell,” he jested. You laugh at his confession, about to say something when you hear a honk in the driveway. Jack walks you over to the door, opening it for you.

Jack pecks your lips once again before saying, “Stay safe, okay? I love you.” You smile, kissing his cheek, “I will. Love you too.”

It’s almost midnight when you come home, and the Penguins won, so it was a victorious night out in your books. You open the door slowly, not wanting to disturb Jack, who should be sleeping by now. You can hear the TV still turned on in the living room, so you decide to check it out.  

Jack was sprawled over the couch, the light from the TV illuminating his figure, his prosthetic placed by the table, as much as you want to move him to the bed because you know that his back would scream at him tomorrow if he spends as much as an extra hour on the couch, he looked so cozy you can’t help yourself, so you lay down on the couch, joining him. 

Your movement startles him at first, but upon seeing that it’s you, he relaxes, “Hey,” he whispers into your ear. “It was fun, wished it was with you though,” you confess to him. His arms now caging you, drawing soft circles on your back. It was quiet before you started.

“Jack,” you whisper softly, he hums, acknowledging you. You continue, “I think you broke me.” Jack stops his hand, pulling his head just enough to look you in the eyes. “What do you mean?” you snuggle further into his chest before saying, “I don’t find Sid attractive anymore.” 

“Huh?” Jack asks, You sit up, placing your hand on his stomach. “Imagine, I was that close with him, I could practically see his pores, Jack.-” You put your hand in front of you, in an attempt to emphasize just how close you are to The Sidney Crosby earlier. “But all I can think about is eh, he’s okay. Jack’s way more attractive.” Jack’s entire body warms at hearing your confession. 

He’s about to comment before you put your hand that was previously on his stomach to his mouth, not allowing him to speak, “No, you don’t get it. It's THE SIDNEY CROSBY, Jack. You know how much I love him, right?” he nods against your hand, now smiling as wide as ever. You lift your hand from his mouth, continuing your explanation. “I was supposed to be entranced by him, Jack. But I kept on thinking that he had nothing against you.” 

“You’re putting me on a damn high pedestal now, hon,” he says jokingly, though his eyes shows nothing but adoration looking at you. 

You lie back on the couch again, cuddling him. “Nah. I think I just love you too much that I find any other guy to just be….mid.” 

He chuckles, resuming his hand motion on your back. “I love you too, so much.” You don’t say anything after that, you're both snuggling, the TV playing softly as background noise – the intimacy of this moment has nothing against anything else. 

You both stayed that way for a while until you mentioned to him that you needed to move before you both fell asleep on the couch, so you walked over to the bedroom, Jack behind you, searching for the remote to turn it off, seeing the highlight of the day on the screen, with crosby’s goal earlier. He smirks proudly at the TV, remembering your earlier admission. 

Sid 0 - 1 Jack. 

[moonlight-fox]

I get I'm preaching to the choir here, but...

a) I always try to build a character that fits the game's (or campaign's) premise. And this idea that it is "overly controlling" (as I've seen said) for a GM to restrict player options is... An anathema to that concept to me. If the campaign or adventure would require soemthing specific, I'm doing my damdest to make them fit. All circus performers? I'm figuring out my act even if I'm not asked for that. All pirates? Yar matey, I be playin a pirate for this here campaign. All elf? That's going to need a very good pitch but if you pull it off I'll play a goddamn elf.

a i) Granted I might be biased by having done a bunch of freeform roleplay in my youth and seeing how... Gonzo... my creative instincts can be if not reigned in. I have played souls trapped in crystaline structures that they can levitate above the ground and which use telekinesis to interact with the world and can manipulate the refraction of light for various effects (some harmful). That was the second, more grounded, character after my first didn't work - A character who, for all intents and purposes, was a floating disco ball was the grounded option that didn't annoy both me and the GM.

a i a) ...I should remake that disco ball as an Animon for Animon Story sometime, either as an NPC or partner animon. Nightmare Light, probably. Maybe Other but 'soul who died by being impaled on crystal' means he's a ghost and ghosts feel nightmare per that system's classification.

a ii) I know I've seen GMs who "I want to accomodate my players to play whatever they want" but... Unless we're doing world creation as a group in session 0 or beforehand, either via a formal system such as Lexicon or Microscope or an informal chat, what I want is for you to help me make a character who fits into your world and campaign concept. Don't risk me inflicting a sapient disco ball on your campaign.

a ii a) Although I am self aware enough to deliberately try to go with more 'normal' options as presented by books the first time I play with a new GM. Sticking with options found in the core book (if there are multiple) the first time I play a system unless told differently. The more unusual options within that book, often - I know without reading the system that I'd go with the duck option in Dragonbane - but something that the book presents as "this is the range of normalacy in this game for PCs"

a iii) Although something I've found over the past year or so is that I actually quite enjoy being given systems to randomise aspects of my character and then figuring out who my character is from what I randomly selected and building out from that. One shots of CoC and Mausritter, with that method of character creation being the default, led me to doing it on my own behest sometimes for my solo gaming if I didn't have something specific in mind when coming up with the campaign.

b) Sometimes reluctant heroes can work. But only if part of the campaign pitch forces these characters to... Whatever we're here to play. Having someone who isn't inclined to do adventure for a game with the premise of "As part of Session 1 you'll all find yourselves in Hell, and the campaign will be based on finding your way out of it." is a very different prospect to one where "You're going to be heroes for hire in an epic fantasy world". In the former, a character who would rather be at home growing potatoes works, because they have to have adventure in order to go back to growing potatoes. In the second, why would you ever make a character who would rather be at home growing potatoes?

b i) I try and nest reasons for my character to go with whatever the adventure is into them, particularly for stuff that isn't one shots or hyper specific in what's going to happen. This is easier if the pitch is that we all know each other before hand - Protective of friends. Easy for friends to talk into shenanigans that are against their better judgement - but 'reward motivated' is usually a reliable one for adventure fantasy to make work.

c) Flipping the script, something I often like to do when running a one shot - Or sometimes campaign - is to have a broader idea and for the players to tell me during character creation why it is they're doing what they're doing. Obviously some games like Escape From Dino Island bake this into the game's structure, and then bake that reason into the adventure I'd either already planned or am improvising. Again, this requires the PCs to know each other before hand.

d) Does anyone know how to indent bullet points in tumblr so if I'm doing a post like this again I don't need to be doing a) b) b i) b ii) b ii a) style stuf?

I mean, it's at least little bit funny how Hasbro's efforts to position Dungeons & Dragons as a universal entry-level game have managed to undo thirty years of development in D&D's culture of play and we're back to litigating whether "you should create characters who actually have a reason to go on adventures rather than expecting the GM to do backflips to justify their presence" is unreasonably imposing upon the player's creative freedom like it's fucking 1994.

[writingwisterias]

A comfort drabble to make me feel better after a shit day lmao, I hope you enjoy it as well 😘💕

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem! reader

Taglist: @shymoob @gut1ess @074calicocat @senawashere @danigirls-missions

You didn't even have to say anything, he already knew something was up as you walked through the door. Your eyes red rimmed, a slight tremble to your lips as you placed you coat on the hanger and took off your shoes. Leon observed you from his position on the couch, he body spread along the length of it like a perfect landing pad for you.

You felt his muscles squeeze you slightly as you slumped on top of him. His lips pressing soft kisses against the top of your head. The smell of him hit you in a wave of comfort, a reminder that the problem that's got you so down means nothing against this moment. Leon felt the dears dampen his shirt, the fabric darkening as they landed. His heartbeat a steady constant for you to focus on — to numb the thoughts as he held you.

His heart ached slightly as you looked up at him, his eyes reflecting your sadness in frustration he couldn't do more to take it away. Instead he held you tighter, rubbed soft circles on your back as you watched the crappy show he had put on.

"Can you hire me to be your assistant?" You mumbled, your voice muffled as you hid in his neck. Leon chuckled, the sound vibrating between you in a low rumble. Another kiss to the temple this time with enough pressure to each the ache slightly from your throbbing head. A medicine you didn't realize you needed. "I fear I may be more annoying at work than at home" he replied, his hands now running through your hair.

He was hitting every comfort marker, every thing he did relaxing your body, freeing your mind from the tangled thorns that currently entraped it. You felt useless out there, unwanted, used but here with Leon you felt like everything. The weight of you on top of him not affecting him or burdening him

Your smile and presence meaning more to him than any customer you speak to at work. He needed you, needed your more than anything. This job was more important than the one that actually gave you money.

"Maybe just a stay at home wife then?" You asked again, glancing back at him with blood shot eyes and small sniffles. Leon smiled another chuckled vibrating through the two of you. You watched as he leant against the arm of the couch, his neck at an awkward angle to give you a soft smile. "I offered to do that before, little miss independent wanted to chase her dreams. Which I admire more"

"it feels like they are too far to reach"

He was unsure on how to respond, his own distant dream forgotten about. Rising in the ranks with a LT on his badge, being able to tease his own rookie that would follow him. An example police officer, one that was doing the right thing. Leon couldn't have that anymore, not in this life. However, he knew that his path had changed, his values no longer lying in the job he possessed but the people he surrounded himself you.

With you.

"Maybe they aren't getting further away but changing as you change. Maybe you just need a smaller dream before you get to the final" he spoke against your hair, the pressure of yet another kiss following his words. You didn't reply, instead watched as his eyes sparkled with his love, his white teeth exposed slightly and he grinned at you. "But if being my assistant would make you happy I can pull some strings"

"being with you makes me happy" you mumbled again, watching as smiled brighter. "Then maybe that's all you need"

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER ELEVEN | TSOFAS.

pairing: azriel x reader.

word count: 3,997.

author’s note: this chapter contains flirting via death threats, accidental cuddling, and chocolate croissants. what more could a girl want? currently y working on chapter sixteen, which means I only have ten more chapters left to write until this story comes to an end. looking forward to sharing it all with you x

♫ figure you out - voila. nav. series. moodboard.

This was the cliche to end all cliches. 

The lover’s inn. Fake fiances. One bed. 

Sellyn Drake herself couldn’t have penned a better overused trope. You would know since you had secretly devoured Nesta’s entire collection during one particularly slow mission in the Sunset Isles. 

The only difference was that you were the furthest thing from a damsel in distress and Azriel was certainly not your prince in shining armor. Though you were beginning to see the appeal. No woman, man, or even centaur seemed safe from the shadowsinger’s charm. 

You supposed there was something to be said about the whole dark, mysterious, and brooding warrior persona that Azriel embodied. He’s just pretty, isn’t he? Serena’s voice echoed in your subconscious once more. 

The shadowsinger loomed in the doorway of the bathing room, water droplets glistening on his golden brown skin. The tiny towel clung tightly to his trim waist, teasing a glimpse of his toned chest and chiseled abs. Thank the Mother for Pylenor and his romance package. 

Azriel swept his dark locks back before cocking his head. “Thorne?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. “Did you hear anything I just said?” 

“Sorry, what? I wasn’t paying attention.”

The shadowsinger quirked a brow as his lips curved up into a smirk. Usually you found that stupid little smirk annoying, but the way he was staring at you now awakened more than just your ire. 

“I said, you can have the bed.” He gestured to the small futon in the corner of the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Are you sure?” you said. “It doesn’t look very comfortable. I mean, with your wings and all…” You made the mistake of peering up at those massive wings. They nearly took up half the room, gobbling up every ray of moonlight that streamed through the gauzy windows. 

“You seem awfully concerned about my wings,” Azriel drawled, raising a brow. “Or maybe it’s just a ruse to invite me into your bed.”

You scoffed. “You wouldn’t survive a tumble in the sheets with me, shadowsinger.” Sweeping the roses off the mattress, you plopped down on the bed and put on your signature devious smile. “As you saw, the last male who found himself in my bed had trouble keeping up.”

What in the Cauldron was happening? Was the shadowsinger flirting with you? Were you flirting back? 

Gods, you really needed to get laid. Lack of sex was the only logical explanation behind this entire exchange. It definitely had nothing to do with your body’s reaction to the near naked Illyrian. Most of the time you were too busy arguing to take stock of Azriel’s appearance, but you were definitely paying attention now. 

Azriel let out a low chuckle. “A dagger to the throat? I’d call that foreplay, princess.” 

He prowled towards you, that tiny towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. There was a light smattering of hair on his abdomen, the traitorous little happy trail leading nowhere good. His muscles flexed as he hovered over you. The shadowsinger smelled like the forest during a balmy starkissed night. It reminded you of home. 

The scent enveloped you as Azriel caged you in. His eyes flashed golden like an ominous warning. A dark sign. 

“What are you doing?” Your voice came out breathier than you’d intended and the smug bastard definitely took notice. 

The space between you was practically nonexistent. Alarm bells sounded somewhere in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t hear it over the erratic beating of your traitorous heart. The shadowsinger looked ravenous as he drank you in. 

“Just lie back, princess.” Azriel brushed a stray strand of hair off your shoulder, his calloused fingers rough against your skin. For a moment, you held your breath. You were so close now that the slightest movement would bring your lips to his. The room crackled with tension, like the moment before a lightning strike. Then, the stupid prick smirked. “And at least let me have a pillow for my troubles.” 

The shadowsinger snatched a pillow from behind you, making you sink into the mattress. It broke you out of the strange bout of sexual tension. 

You rolled your eyes. “You could’ve just asked.”

“I could’ve,” Azriel said as he plopped onto the couch. “But where’s the fun in that?” 

“You’re a pain in the ass, shadowsinger.”

He kicked his feet up and smirked. “Maybe, but you seem to be enjoying the view.” 

“Please, like you weren’t staring first.”

Azriel smiled, not bothering to deny your accusation. “Good night, princess.”

“Fuck off, shadowsinger.”

You flicked your wrist, plunging the room into darkness. The silence of the night settled over you, the whistling autumn breeze lulling you into sleep. 

It might’ve been seconds or minutes until you finally felt yourself relaxing and slipping into the land of dreams, but the pleasant feeling of drifting into sleep was rudely interrupted by a grating sound coming from where the shadowsinger laid. You groaned, turning over in bed and burying your head underneath the pillows. It did nothing to muffle the sound. 

Creak. 

Creak. 

Creak. 

“For fuck’s sake!” You shot up in bed, groggy and tired. “If that bloody sofa creaks one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable.”

“News flash, shadowsinger. It’s not working. I told you your wings wouldn’t fit.” You stood, peeling the blankets back and rearranging the pillows. 

Azriel squinted in the darkness. “What are you doing?” 

“Saving my sanity,” you muttered. “You take the left side and I’ll take the right. Do not cross the barrier if you want to keep all of your appendages intact.”

The shadowsinger opened his mouth, most likely gearing up to throw another suggestive comment at you. “Don’t,” you warned. “I take my sleep very seriously and if I lose any more of it, you’ll find yourself cuddling with my blades instead.”

Azriel wisely decided to keep his suggestive comments to himself. He crawled into his side of the bed, those giant wings of his dangling off the side of the mattress as he faced you. Moonlight slashed through his cheekbones, its silver ray like a kiss of glass against golden brown skin. Though the pillow barrier kept you at an arm’s length away, you could still feel him beside you. His shadows stirred, settling into the space that separated the two of you. They hovered over the invisible line that you’d drawn, as if testing the boundary. 

You fought the urge to smile. Devious little darklings. 

The shadowsinger shifted, placing one arm underneath his pillow. Even under the cover of darkness, those piercing hazel eyes seemed to beckon you forth like a moth to a flame. 

“Thanks,” Azriel finally said. His lips quirked in amusement, which only earned him a glare in response. “You know, you’re not as surly as you make yourself out to be.” 

You frowned. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, shadowsinger.”

The Illyrian warrior beamed and two little dimples appeared on his cheeks, providing such a stark contrast to the dour countenance you’d gotten so used to. You didn’t even know Azriel had dimples. 

“Happy to keep our streak going, Thorne.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned over to the other side. As glorious sleep finally came to claim you, the last thing you remembered were those stupid charming little dimples. 

Azriel barely slept a wink.

Mostly because his shadows couldn’t seem to stop informing him of the assassin’s every move, which kept him up for most of the night since she couldn’t seem to stop stirring in her sleep. How anyone could be more restless asleep than awake, the shadowsinger didn’t know. 

At some point during the night, the assassin had managed to smack him in the face, hog the blankets, and kick multiple pillows off the bed, including the makeshift barrier that she placed between them. By the time the sunlight streamed in through the windows, she was completely starfished on the mattress, barely leaving Azriel a tiny pocket of safety on his side of the bed. 

Eventually, Azriel succumbed to sleep. The scent of cinnamon and crisp apples lulled him into unconsciousness. He felt something vaguely warm nestled against him, like the heat of the hearth during a cold night. Though the shadowsinger wasn’t a fan of fire, he found himself coveting the warmth. 

When he finally awoke, Azriel felt something tickling his cheek. The shadowsinger blinked against the glare of the soft autumn sun only to find streaks of scarlet blocking his vision. He groaned and clutched the closest pillow to block out the light, but was met with something much softer and warmer curled against him. 

Azriel blinked. The assassin was curled underneath his wing, her face nestled in the crook of his neck as she cuddled into him shamelessly. His arm snaked around her waist, their legs tangled together as though they’d intertwined themselves like roots in the middle of the night. 

He knew he should pull away, but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something mesmerizing about the female in his arms. She looked peaceful and unguarded, her features soft and relaxed for once. The shadowsinger wasn’t blind. He was aware of the assassin’s attractiveness, but that wasn’t what made him pause. Sleeping in his arms like this, she almost looked like that wild and carefree girl in the portrait back at Thorne Manor. 

Azriel felt a strange tightening in his chest. Probably a result of the assassin’s death grip around his neck. At least that’s what he told himself. 

The shadowsinger took that as a sign to get up. 

If the assassin woke up and found them in this compromising position, Azriel would never hear the end of it so even though part of him wanted to stay in that bed all morning, he slowly crawled out of bed. The shadowsinger was careful not to wake the assassin despite the fact that an earthquake probably wouldn’t have roused her from sleep. 

Still, Azriel smoothly extracted himself out of her grasp and decided to venture out for breakfast. He tucked his wings in as tightly as he could and threw a coat on as an extra measure of safety. Glamouring would’ve been preferred, but he was only going downstairs and he doubted anyone else would be awake this early. 

The shadowsinger paused in the doorway. He looked back to find the assassin reaching for the place where he had laid, her hair fanning around her like living flames as she clutched the pillow he placed in his absence. The tattooed wings on her back shimmered in the sunlight. 

Beautiful, his shadows echoed. 

Gorgeous, he found himself agreeing.

But Azriel wasn’t entirely sure if he meant the tattoo or the assassin herself.

When you woke up, Azriel was nowhere to be found, which was just as well because it gave you time to prepare for the day. Plus, he wouldn’t be here to witness you drooling into the silk sheets. You were especially grateful of the shadowsinger's absence as you faced your reflection in the bathing room mirror. 

It was not a pretty sight to behold, but you had never been a morning person. You were a firm believer that anyone who enjoyed waking up at the ass crack of dawn was a certified psychopath, though you were the one who appeared like one now. You went through the motions, washing your face and brushing your teeth before taking on the daunting task of untangling the bird’s nest you called hair. 

By the time Azriel returned, you looked semi-decent. Not that you cared about how you looked. Especially not around the shadowsinger. 

“Someone’s finally up,” Azriel quipped. 

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Where have you been?” 

“Missed me, princess?” 

The agitation building up inside of you was instantly quelled by the mouthwatering scent of chocolate and coffee. Your stomach growled in response, eliciting a shit eating grin from the shadowsinger. 

“Is that breakfast?” 

Azriel nodded. “Courtesy of Pylenor. He made sure to put little hearts on our pastries too.” 

You chuckled, reaching for the breakfast tray. Azriel held it just out of reach. “Manners, Thorne. What do we say?” 

If he wasn’t currently holding the key to your salvation, you would’ve kicked him in the crotch. Instead, you plastered on a saccharine smile. “May I please have my breakfast before I chop you up and eat you instead?” 

Azriel smirked. “As enjoyable as that would be,” he set down the tray and watched as you tore through a chocolate croissant. The village stirred beyond the balcony and the two of you ate in silence, watching the quiet street come to life. 

“I can see why you liked coming here, Cassandra. It’s quite enchanting.” 

You grinned. “Never thought I’d hear the word enchanting come out of your mouth, Nestor. Maybe these croissants actually are magic.” 

“Magical enough to show gratitude to your fiance?” 

“Don’t push your luck, shadowsinger.” He rolled his eyes as you took a sip of your coffee, which was pure black and contained enough caffeine to power a small village. “Gods, the centaur even knows how I take my coffee. Should I be scared?” 

“Trust me, Pylenor felt plenty of fear when I told him to put three shots of espresso into your drink.” 

You paused mid-sip, squinting at him over your mug. “How do you know my order?”

“I’d be a pretty shit spymaster if I failed to remember something as simple as a coffee order.” Azriel sipped his latte, which looked so light in color that you wouldn’t be surprised if there was nearly a gallon of fresh cream in it. “Besides, it’s impossible to forget such an atrocity. It’s almost like you have a personal vendetta against joy.” 

“My apologies, Nestor. Not everyone wants a sugar bomb first thing in the morning.”

“I’d rather be pumped full of sugar than drink straight black coffee.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I mean, I know you murder people for a living, but even this is a bit sociopathic, isn’t it Cassie?” 

You shrugged. “You know what they say, birds of a feather flock together.” You pointed your croissant at his massive wings. Red and gold veins shimmered at his back, mimicking the autumn leaves. “Or in your case, birds of a leather.” 

Azriel cringed. “Not looking forward to having them glamoured again.” 

“Why? Does it hurt?” 

He shook his head. “No, worse. It tickles.” 

You pouted in mock sympathy. “Poor little batling. Now suck it up, we need to head to Miss Margaret’s soon.” 

To your surprise, the shadowsinger voiced no complaint as you glamoured his wings. Though he did do a strange sort of shimmy as your magic took hold. The two of you gave your final performance as Cassandra and Nestor, bidding Pylenor goodbye and handing him so much gold that his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, which was nothing compared to his reaction to Azriel’s smile. 

Those stupid cheeky dimples again. The centaur didn’t stand a chance. You knew the feeling. 

As the autumn sun kissed the sleepy village of Vanora, you found yourself back at Miss Margaret’s Museum of Marvels. Unlike yesterday, the shop appeared to be open. The door was ajar, but it was completely empty inside. Not a single customer in sight. 

You and Azriel stared at one another. The shadowsinger urged you forward, sending his shadows ahead to scout the place. He flanked your back, keeping watch while you explored further into the store. 

Store didn’t seem adequate to describe the place. The three-story building was more an experience than anything else. The walls were lined with shelves filled with rare antiques — poisons, weapons, and scrolls were amongst the various items that Miss Margaret offered. 

“Hello?” you called as you walked deeper into the strange museum. Your voice bounced off the stone walls, echoing eerily. 

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Azriel said. His shadows returned to him, curling around his shoulders. “My shadows said that the books are toward the back. We might find the recipe there.” 

He pointed at a shadowy alcove just beyond your eyeline. “Oh great, that doesn’t look shady or dangerous at all.” The shadowsinger rolled his eyes, but you could tell from his posture that he was on guard. “Lead the way, little darklings.”

“Don’t call them that,” Azriel muttered. 

“Why? Do they not like it?” 

One shadow curled around his ear, whispering something that made Azriel sigh in exasperation. “I don’t like it.” 

You leaned in conspiratorially. “The big guy’s kind of a grump, isn’t he? I’m sorry you have to deal with him. You don’t mind the nickname though, do you?” Shadows swirled excitedly through your hair, making you giggle. “I guess that answers that.” 

The shadowsinger didn’t look amused. “Stop turning my shadows against me.” 

You fought the urge to smirk as Azriel walked ahead of you. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

When his back was turned, you winked at his shadows. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought you heard the sound of soft laughter. 

The playful mood suddenly turned tense as you walked through the shady alcove. The temperature seemed to drop, awakening goosebumps along your arms. Dust and cobwebs lined the row of bookcases directly in front of you. The various scrolls and tomes were sorted alphabetically, which meant you had to walk deeper into the dark to find the M section. 

Fortunately, Miss Margaret’s Marvelous Muffins wasn’t very hard to find. The recipe book was pastel pink and embossed with gold letters, its spine decorated with an intricate floral pattern. You slowly coaxed it out of place, waiting for something horrible to happen as Azriel tensed beside you. Besides a cloud of dust, nothing unseemly occurred when you pulled the book out. 

 “A peculiar choice.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you came face to face with a pale pixie. Her eyes were a strange shade of gray, so light that they seemed to swallow up all color from her already translucent blue complexion. Her matching indigo hair fell in perfectly coiffed curls, which bounced against her shoulders as she emerged from the other side of the bookcase. 

The shadowsinger eyed her with suspicion, his fingers flexing as though he was prepared to reach for the dagger sheathed on his thigh at a moment’s notice. You squinted at the book in your hands, then back at the pixie. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Margaret.” You curtsied and slipped on a placid, non-threatening smile. “My fiance and I were just admiring your fine establishment.” 

Miss Margaret smiled in return, but the gesture didn’t quite meet her eyes. “So it appears. What brings you dearies to my neck of the woods? We don’t see visitors in Vanora very often these days, I’m afraid. Especially not a couple as lovely as you two.” 

You subtly nodded at Azriel, gesturing for him to follow your lead. “We’re returning visitors, actually. At least I am. Though you may be more familiar with my friend Alinta.” 

“Ah yes,” the pixie said. “I remember the formidable old crone. She used to come here with another young witch.” She tilted her head, giving you the once over. “Looked a lot like you. Though your hair is much brighter.” 

Witch? The pixie was no doubt talking about your mother, but you had never heard anyone describe her as a witch and you certainly didn’t remember her mentioning visiting this place with Alinta. 

“You must be mistaken,” you said politely. “Alinta always came here on her own.”

The pixie shook her head. “I may be old, but my mind is as sharp as those blades of yours.” You flinched involuntarily, fighting the urge to reach for Dawn and Fury. How did she even know you were carrying? Miss Margaret smiled. “I know a Thorne when I see one and you, my darling, are the prickliest of them all. Now why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing in my shop?” 

Azriel tensed beside you, ready to strike at your signal. Miss Margaret was obviously more dangerous than she appeared, but despite this you made no move to attack. Alinta must have had good reason to send you here. Plus, the pixie knew of your mother. 

You straightened and lifted the recipe book in your hands. “Alinta sent us here to retrieve this.” 

The pixie smiled upon seeing the cover. “The beginner’s guide,” she said. As soon as Margaret spoke the words, the letters on the spine shuffled and spelled out Miss Margaret’s Macabre Magicks. “Following in your mother’s footsteps, I presume?” 

“You called her a witch,” you said, trying not to marvel at the display of magic. “But she didn’t practice anything beyond the most basic magic.” 

Miss Margaret’s lips curved into a sharp smile. “That’s what she would have this court believe, especially her brother-in-law. Though Laurel perished young, your mother was probably the most powerful witch of her age.” 

“How is that possible?” 

“Haven’t you ever wondered about your own abilities? Why you pick up on spells and hexes so easily?” The pixie asked, staring at you as though she could see beyond flesh and bone. “There’s magic in your blood, girl. As ancient as Prythian itself.” 

“Yes, but I always thought it was because of…” you trailed off, stopping yourself. “The other side. My biological father.” 

The pixie nodded. “He is quite powerful, that much is true. But your mother’s magic was in a league of its own. Why do you think the Silver One chose her?” 

Even without looking at him, you could feel Azriel’s stare boring into your side. There was no doubt that the shadowsinger would have questions for you later, but he wisely stayed silent. 

“Power calls to power,” Margaret said, cutting a look between you and the shadowsinger. “Even the light needs the dark to cast a shadow.” 

You balked, tightening your grip on the book. “I understand why my mother didn’t tell me, but what about Alinta?” 

The pixie’s mouth set into a grim line. “Why do you think she sent you here, child? Everything must happen in its proper time. Your return to this court is not a coincidence. Fate itself has led you here.” 

Cauldron fucking boil me, you thought. Miss Margaret was Magnificently Mad, but even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew that there was truth to her statement. The Autumn Court had beckoned you home. You felt it in your bones. 

“And what does fate want with me?” 

“To uncover the truth,” Margaret said simply. “But only if you are ready to face it.” 

That wasn’t at all vague and frustrating. Nevertheless, you nodded. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me how I’d go about doing that?” 

The pixie nodded at the book. “You hold the first step in your hands.”

“This book. Does it contain information to break a powerful protective spell?”

“Yes, but it is capable of more than just that.” Her pale blue eyes honed in on you, making you feel as though she wasn’t just talking about the book. “This book contains rare and ancient spells, but I must warn you. It takes a powerful witch to channel magic this old. Are you up for the challenge, child?” 

You paused. It wasn’t as though you had a choice. You had to open the Map of Mysteries. “Yes.” 

“Very well, then. Take the book and do what you must.” The pixie shrugged. 

Miss Margaret gave you one last look, before turning away. As unwise as it may have been, you couldn’t help but call out. “That’s it?” you asked, “You’re just letting us go?” 

The pixie stared right through you, her pale eyes clouding over. Azriel angled himself beside you, his invisible wings brushing against your shoulder as he braced for what Margaret may do next.  

“We shall meet again, daughter of fire.” 

₊˚⊹♡ thank you for reading. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated. feel free to drop an ask too — i’d love to yap & chat with you all.

taglist: @fuckingsimp4azriel @onebadassunicorn-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @marina468 @ly-canthrope

[electricpurrs]

i need MONWYYYYYYYYY starts chewing my leg off. my life is in shambles

[paleangels13]

Helloo, I still exist did anyone even notice I was mostly gone lol

Anyone interested in ehhh...slightly unhinged work-related talk?

No?

Well. Too bad

Anyone that knows me irl please ignore the tags – I'm embarrassed ✨🥰

[flovverworks]

pien

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[girlivealwaysbean]

real

[phiniusandjelly]

Vaguely inspired by that one post where Danny gets summoned by the JL and keeps throwing his shoes and stuff at them bc HE might not be able to leave the summoning circle but his clothes sure can!

I think the twist for that was that the circle doesnt effect him at all because hes a halfa and he was just goofing with the JL.

But imagine if the summoning and containment WORKED.

Like, he gets summoned and its startling, but once he realizes hes been summoned hes mostly annoyed.

Its a school night! He has work to do! Sure he wasnt DOING it, but it was still a possibility!

And hes trying to banter with the JL. Which for him just means being vaguely-obnoxious-but-somewhat-charming.

But then he tries to leave.

Maybe hes worried about his friends reaction to seeing him disappear.

Maybe the JL are saying some anti ghost/demon/whatever they think he is nonsense.

Maybe he changed his mind about doing that homework.

But either way, it doesnt work.

He drags his hand along the edge of the spell. It doesnt give, and he realizes hes not sure what this spell is supposed to do.

Its all along the floor beneth him, he cant fly through the floor.

He tries to get away from the walls and floor, worried whatever spell makes up the container can be triggered to hurt him or brainwash him or SOMETHING.

Its not his best guest, but he has never been summoned before, at least not with this type of barrier, and he doesnt know what to expect.

He barely gets a few feet off the ground when he hits the spells invisible roof.

And he is trapped.

And now this fourteen year old child is caged in a room with clearly dangerous adult strangers.

After hes been more or less kidnapped.

He’s suddenly regretting insulting them.

And its not his first time beimg kidnapped. Or his first time being in danger in general (obviously).

but its usually some ghost! Or Vlad “Loser, I hardly know her!” Masters!

Both of whom explain literally everything they plan in long ass evil monologues! It usually takes danny five minutes tops to learn their entire life story Dr Doofenshmirtz style!

He knows most of them personally! They hang out sometimes! Heck! even the local ghost hunters are either literally related to him or someone he’s dated!

He knows their powersets, their strengths, their weaknesses.

Most importantly, he knows their goals

But now hes trapped. In a room of clearly superpowerd strangers. With magical abilities strong enough to trap him for real.

And has no idea what they want

And Danny just freezes up

This could be super angsty if the JL were told that he was evil and think his panic + young features are only done to manipulate them.

You can also add angst with a language barrier/translation issue

I imagine the JL would be trying to get information about ghosts/ are trying to get someone to fight a villain they can’t defeat

Its going to scare the shit out of Danny either way- like imagine fourteen year old you gets kidnapped by strangers and they start asking you about your weaknesses or say they will only let you out if you agree to fight this monster.

And if Danny doesnt know this villain or how tf hes going to fight them he might feel like hes being sent off to get his ass kicked.

I can just imagine Danny being told he has to fight this supervillain and being like “…if i like..die…trying to fight this guy…what are you going to do with my body? Like will you send me home? Cause my family will freak if my corpse is teleported into the living room”

JL would not be happy about any of his responses.

Im begging someone to write this please have a nice day

[ritzcuit]

bemoaning mental health rn m

[silentheiss]

It starts small. Luo Binghe hides all his demonic features, which — Shen Qingqiu didn’t even think he was hiding, until he wakes up earlier than usual one day and sees Luo Binghe enter the house all red-eyed and claw-handed. Before any excitement can build up, though, Binghe blinks, startles and the features are gone.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t ask, but he started watching his husband more closely. And he began noticing things:

• Luo Binghe is never rude to other Peak Lords, at least not in front of Shen Qingqiu.

• He never complains, at least not about what’s really bothering him.

• He gets anxious when he doesn’t have time to cook or clean for Shen Qingqiu

• He barely talks about anything related to his Emperor duties, if he attends to them at all

• With his every word and action he tries to be good for Shen Qingqiu

At this point, Shen Qingqiu stops keeping track. He knows what’s going on.

Luo Binghe thinks Shen Qingqiu’s love for him is conditional and he needs to work hard every day not to lose it.

The thought of it sends cold shivers down Shen Qingqiu’s spine. He misses his self-assured, impudent white lotus. He can’t let it stand.

So, he does the following:

“Binghe doesn’t need to cook today.” He says, motioning for Ming Fang to come closer. “We’ll get the food from the kitchens.”

“But Shizun!” Luo Binghe pouts. “That food isn’t good enough. This one can do better.”

“Of course Binghe can.” Shen Qingqiu says, fighting the blush. “My husband is most talented. Today, though, this master wants an extra hour with him, even if it means worse food.”

And:

“Emperor Luo must be missed in the Demon Realm.” Shen Qingqiu notes, ignoring the way Luo Binghe freezes midway through the room. “Maybe we should visit?”

There’s a moment of silence. Then, Luo Binghe says, voice carefully neutral:

“It’s not pleasant in there, shizun. This one wouldn’t want to expose his husband to such a cruel, dangerous environment.”

“Luckily,” Shen Qingqiu notes. “This one married the most dangerous creature in the world. He is sure he’d feel pretty safe.”

“Shizun.” Luo Binghe whines, hunching his shoulders and trying to appear as small, as non-threatening as possible.

“Is my Demonic Emperor of a husband so unsure in his abilities?”

Luo Binghe stands straighter, eyes gaining a glint of determination. Shen Qingqiu hides a smug smile behind his fan.

And also:

“Binghe looks annoyed.” Shen Qingqiu says, as they walk back home after the Peak Lords meeting.

He doesn’t, his pretty face a pleasant mask. But Shen Qingqiu knows his husband, and he knows his martial siblings aren’t his favorite people.

“This one is fine, shizun.”

“Hmm.” Shen Qingqiu says. “Doesn’t Binghe think other Peak Lords were acting a bit… self-important?”

“They do try to take too much of shizun’s precious time.” Luo Binghe answers carefully.

“Thank you, Binghe, yes. This one has no idea why they think this master would prefer their company to his husband’s.”

Luo Binghe gasps softly. Shen Qingqiu smiles. If he continues just like this, he’s sure soon enough he’ll get his Binghe to act as spoiled as he did back in his discipline-hood, if not worse.

part 2!!

[sevsgiirl]

Omg okay I can't stop thinking about needy lovesick Sevika with a younger femme partner (you can totally do a continuation of the fic you wrote) so what if, she's a little needy&insecure for their age gap? That her girl gets bored/annoyed with her? (She doesn't have this type of thoughts all the time, but the seeds of doubts grows when she hears other people talk, not directly about her and reader, but in general but it does linger when others points out how different they are) or in her own way, she start craving more compliments, affections from her but dunno how to do it and at the same time she's trying to gauce if her girl still likes her (she does!!) yet just the thoughts/doubts hurts Sevika like so bad, because she would do anything for her darling, what she has to do to make her girl still love her and not leave her?

— sevika with a younger partner and feeling insecure

synopsis: sevika doesn’t have a type. whether they’re older or younger, just as long as they could keep up with her that’s all mattered. but ever since you two started dating, she starts to wonder if she’s the one who could keep up with you and how deep down, it scares her that you might find a problem with it eventually.

note: I just had to post this before going to sleep because the idea is too good. I love the way your brain works and again, thank you for sending in the req <3 love you and I hope you like this.

you were a beacon of light in the cesspool of chaos that is sevika’s life.

to this day, she still doesn’t understand how you and her got into a relationship but here you are now, going strong for almost a year and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

you two rarely get into arguments, when you did she never hesitates to reach out and fix the situation right away because she can’t stand being on bad terms with you for long.

you two are on the same mental wavelength, which sevika appreciates given how you’re a lot younger than her. she’s in her 40s and you were in 20s, but sometimes she forgets because conversations always run smoothly between you two.

but just because she forgets that doesn’t mean other people fail to bring it up.

when you started dating, it was a bit difficult given how it wasn’t received well by a lot of her peers. not that they judged her for it because they could never unless they wanted to have their face busted in. but it was the occasional remarks that had a hint of judgement in them that made sevika uncomfortable.

things such as “she’s a bit young, isn’t she? you better keep an eye on her especially because you’re always at work. it’s hard being in a relationship with someone who’s at a different stage in life as you.”

both of you had jobs but her work compared to yours was hectic. you work as a waitress at jericho’s meanwhile sevika is paid to get her hands dirty for silco. the job was tedious and draining and sometimes she comes home, tired to the bone that she could barely catch up with you. which she feels immensely guilty for.

you’ve reassured her that it isn’t a big deal and that you understand her status in zaun is far more important than yours. you’ve always acknowledged sevika’s role in the under city and why she was feared by many, that’s what attracted you to her in the first place. she was loyal, devoted and her endurance was insane.

but still, despite how sevika’s job is her number one priority, it still doesn’t slip her mind that she may accidentally neglect you and your needs without her knowing.

and she knows it takes a toll on you too, you just don’t want to bring it up because you respect her too much. and she was right because when she came home early one night you weren’t there, and it was almost midnight when you finally returned and you were shocked to see sevika sitting on your couch waiting for you. usually she’d be back around 2-3am.

“hey, you didn’t tell me silco would let you off the hook early,” you said but your words became background noise because she was too focused on your appearance. you were dressed up and from where she sat she could tell you’ve had a lot to drink.

it’s not that it upset sevika you went out, you could do whatever you want but it saddens her that you didn’t even go out of your way to tell her about it assuming she’d be coming home late. is this what you do when she’s not here? go out with your friends and have fun? it’s not that she expects you to wait for her in your apartment all day while she’s away for work.

still, the thought bothers her as she wonders what you must’ve been up to while she was gone. she tries to set the thought aside, not wanting to think bad of you because she knows you’d never go against her back. but certain thoughts crept up at the back of her mind. did you meet someone while you were out? were you offered drinks? did someone invite you out to dance?

“sev, baby, you there?” she didn’t even realize she zoned out until she felt you cupping her cheek “are you tired? you shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”

she shook her head “it’s alright. but yeah, silco let me off early and I wanted to surprise you.”

your shoulders sagged “I’m sorry. I assumed you’d come home late again so I decided to just go out with friends. had I known I would’ve waited so we can stay in and cuddle.”

despite your flattery words, the only thing that stuck to sevika was you implying she’d be late again. you didn’t mean it maliciously, there was no bitterness in your tone but instead there was just… acceptance. which frustrated her because people were right.

perhaps being at different stages in life does this. you needed a partner who you can home to and have fun with but instead you got her who’s always late, is already asleep when you probably want to stay up and have sex at night. she would force herself to push through just for you but she isn’t getting any younger and it shows.

maybe it’s because others have planted it in her head that you two are just far too different that’s why she’s overthinking like this, but it’s becoming more and more evident that they were right and if she doesn’t find a way to fix this, god knows before you start seeing the cracks and the dents as well.

and so in the following day she asked silco if she could cut off her usual hours at work to get back home early. at least for a few weeks and silco was shocked for a second because if there was anyone who’s extremely dedicated to their job, it’s her.

but it’s because of that he deliberates on the request “very well,” he answered “but if the matters are urgent I expect you to come in either way,”

well, it’s better than nothing, sevika thought. what matters is she’ll try to find some time to spend the following weeks with you and to hopefully regain the spark in your relationship.

not that she’s saying it’s lost but she’s scared it will. because if her days don’t consist of work, she’s either at the bar playing cards to blow off some steam, which isn’t exactly a productive way of spending one’s time.

unlike you, you have tons of friends who you go out with at clubs and sevika just doesn’t want to think about all the people you meet there, who are probably the same age as you, and have wanted to ask you out but you turned them down because of her.

meanwhile, she’s here and she can’t even keep you happy like how you deserve.

it eats her up alive that’s why as soon as she comes back from work a lot earlier than usual, she immediately engulfs you in a back hug when she sees you cooking in the kitchen.

you gasped, not expecting her “sev, you’re home.” you were surprised as you turned around “did something happen?”

she shook her head, smiling “no sweetheart, silco just let me off early again. plus I’ve been meaning to spend more time with my girl…”

you still weren’t used to the disruption of the routine, because she’s normally away at these hours, but you weren’t complaining.

and with that, you spent most of the evening cooking and catching up with each other. you didn’t miss the way sevika followed you around the house like a lost puppy when you started cleaning up to get ready for bed.

you raised an eyebrow when she wrapped her arms around your waist while you were washing the dishes, noticing how she’s awfully more needy than usual.

“baby, go rest. you just got back home from work.” you giggled and she just shook her head.

“I just want to spend more time with you. I feel like I haven’t been the best partner.”

that halted you in your tracks and you angled your head so you can face her “baby, what makes you think that?” your eyebrows were furrowed and she just held you tighter.

she lets out a breath, tired and awfully nervous about vocalizing her doubts. what if once she points it out you start seeing the red flags too? and then these affectionate gestures just won’t be enough? what then?

“I know with my job and the responsibilities I have, I haven’t been able to fulfill your needs. you have so much ahead of you and I’m always at work and I just don’t want to make it seem like I’m wasting your time.” she said and you just stood there, letting her words sink in.

“you’re young and you could be with someone whose head isn’t always stuck in a bunch of paperwork or is running around the lanes doing silco’s dirty work.” her jaw clenched and she starts to wonder if admitting to all of this was a good idea.

“I’m sorry, princess. I just don’t want to bore you by leaving you here at home all by yourself…”

you immediately swiveled around in her arms and took her face in your hands.

“sev, look at me.” you said, your voice stern “I could give less than two fucks about people my age. you think when I got into a relationship with you I didn’t know what I was signing myself up for? of course I did and I don’t regret any of it. I know you have responsibilities and I accepted all of your duties the moment you became mine.”

“I could never be bored of you, baby.” you told her, thumb caressing her cheek “you don’t treat me any differently because of my age so why should I? I love it that you’re so hard at work and that you provide for me. the fact my salary at jericho’s isn’t even enough to pay half of our rent but you don’t mind because you provide for us both, why would I find that boring? that’s fucking sexy.”

she couldn’t help but let out a snort “oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re staying with me because I’m basically your sugar mommy?”

you grinned “amongst other things,” you said before capturing her lips with your own.

the kiss was hot, heavy and slow as sevika gripped your hips and pulled you against her. pushing her knee up and sliding it across your thighs and she started rubbing against your clothed cunt, making you whimper.

“so you’re not bored of me? or mad?” she asked as she pulled away to look at you.

you rolled your eyes “you could be 23 or 75 for all I care and I still wouldn’t get bored of you.”

your finger drew circles around her chest as you fluttered your eyes up at her “plus you fuck me like you’re 23 anyway, so I don’t see why I would look for someone my age.”

she couldn’t help but laugh, swooping you up in her arms and you circled your legs around her waist as she walked you to your bedroom “god, you’re such a handful.” she said.

you smirked “but you love it.”

[wcters]

OVERPROTECTIVE

pairing: max verstappen x fem!leclerc!reader

word count: 1.6k+

summary: the story of how you and max met . . . and how protective he and your brothers can be

request: max verstappen and leclerc!reader : overprotective charles and carlos, very domestic and protective max while theyre int he paddock during race, maybe hes also very affectionate. just some fluff and comedy

warnings/contents: swearing, sexual innuendos

author’s note: maybe took it too far with the beginning but i couldn’t help it, plus that’s something that max would do

As the youngest sibling and only girl, you knew your family would be protective ━━ especially your brothers. Sometimes you liked it, and used it to your advantage by scaring off random guys at parties and being a little less afraid of walking home at night with them there, but you also hated it sometimes. You knew they just wanted you to be okay and not have to experience the same things they did, but it still sucked. Your parents stuck up for you when they could, but when you first moved out and stayed with Charles there wasn’t much they could do.

They had managed to scare off almost every guy you liked or started a relationship with, saying they were ‘too mean’ or ‘impolite’ or just little things like they didn’t like the way he dressed or how he talked. The longest you had been with a guy was two weeks before he got annoyed at your brothers and left. You ignored them for a week as you only went to school, your job, and hid in your room when you were home. And you bet the got a stern talking to from your parents ━━ especially your mom.

That was the longest you had been with someone . . . Until you met Max. You had heard , and knew of, Max Verstappen as him and your brother did karting together as kids and Charles joined Formula One only three years after, but you had never interacted.

The first time you met was in 2019. You had moved to Monaco for university and were living with Charles. Though Charles had invited you to races before, you always declined busy with school work or your job, where Charles would respond with something along the lines of ‘i don’t know why you have that job anyway’ which you would roll your eyes and flip him off. It was the Austrian Grand Prix that you finally agreed to go, one of the races that Max had won that year. You had gotten some time off from your job and you didn’t have too much work so you agreed.

When you arrived, you were a little overwhelmed so you mostly stayed in the Ferrari garage, talking to Charles and sometimes Sebastian, though they were pretty busy. The next couple days you didn’t have too much time to go out and explore, to worried about watching free practices and qualifying, and you didn’t even think about leaving during the race until it was over.

It wasn’t until the after party that you actually talked to him. You originally weren’t going to go, you were going to stay in and work on homework, until Charles begged you and you agreed . . . but only because he came second and you were proud of him. You were nineteen, so you were legal, but you were sure even if you weren’t you’d be allowed a few drinks, albeit with Charles hovering over you more than usual.

It was about twenty minutes into the party ━━ with you and Charles getting drinks and being introduced to other people ━━ when you got introduced to Max. “Max!” Charles had called over the thumping bass of the music. At first, the Dutch man didn’t hear until your brother yelled right into his ear. He turned around, surprised, before calling a ‘Charles!’ and congratulating him. He didn’t see you until he pulled away from the hug, turning to see you. “This is my sister! Y/n!” He told Max, again yelling. You loudly introduced yourself as you put your hand forward. “Max! You came to watch Charles karting when you were younger right?” You nodded. “I recognize you!”

Max eventually got pulled away by some people, you assumed technicians or mechanics as you don’t recognize them as drivers, and didn’t see each other for another hour. You had stepped outside for a minute, overwhelmed, though you made sure to tell Charles where you were going. When you had, he immediately became concerned but you waved him off, telling him you were okay and just needed some fresh air.

You were leaning against the wall of the building, bottle of water in your hand as you heard footsteps. You quickly turned your head, though calmed once you saw it was only Max. “Scare you?” He asked. You got to hear his voice clearer now, taking in his accent slipping out due to the alcohol. “Can never be too careful. Dangerous for women.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a little. As you were taking a sip of water, he started to speak. “First race?” You nodded, “yeah. I’ve watched, obviously, but I’ve just been too busy with school that I haven’t had the chance. It’s been a little overwhelming at times ━━ hence why I’m out here.”

“I get that. It was for me too.” You turned to look at him. “You were seventeen, right?” He looked surprised that you knew that. “Yeah . . . I was.” You could see in his eyes that remembering that was heavy. “That must’ve been hard.” You told him but didn’t plan on talking anymore about it. “It was, but that’s life.” You nodded. You offered him a sip of your water bottle, knowing he must be getting thirsty. He replied with a small ‘thank you’ before taking a sip. “Want to get out of here? I’m done for the night.” You raised your eyebrow, “wow. What a gentleman.” He must’ve realized what that sounded like before he started to sputter, apologizing and saying that’s not when he meant. He look confused when you started to laugh. “I know what you meant. But you are drunk and I don’t have a car.”

He lowered his eyebrows. “Right.” You pulled out your phone, getting ready to call a cab. “I’ll call you a cab and get you one while I tell Charles where I’m going.” “You’re coming with me?” You nodded, “yeah, I’m don’t for tonight too. I’ll help you to your room because you are not as sober as you think you are and then I’m heading back to my hotel.”

You went in, telling Max with a stern finger in his direction to ‘stay where he was’ while you went to grab a bottle of water and tell Charles where you were going. He didn’t approve, warning you to be careful and not fall for anything, but you assured him you were fine.

That night you helped him to his hotel and to his room, finding a bottle of water and aspirin that was in your purse to set on his beside table. While you were leaving, he grabbed your wrist. “Will you take up my offer? Dinner sometime?” You smiled at him. “Sure, but ask me again when you’re sober so you know what you are doing.” The next morning on the plane, you got a text from Max, letting you know he got your number from someone and that he still wanted to take you out for dinner. You agreed, setting a time and place.

That eventual dinner date led to now, almost five years into your relationship. Charles was a bit upset, but after a ‘talk’ with Max, he felt a little bit better about it, and he warmed up after awhile. Your brothers didn’t manage to scare him off. You had warned him, and talked with them about it, so that helped a little.

It was the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix. You sat in the Ferrari garage talking with your brother and Carlos while also keeping track of your boyfriend during the free practice. You were sitting down in one of that chairs with the two men standing. You didn’t even notice something was happening until you felt something hit the back of your head. You let out a small ‘ouch’ while rubbing the back of your head. You tried not to make a scene, but the mechanic who had hit you let out a big ‘oh shit!’ which pulled everyone’s attention. I

Immediately your brother was on you making sure you were okay while Carlos went to chew out the mechanic. Through the pain in your head, and Charles calling for ice and a medical staff, you heard a mix of fast English and Spanish. It wasn’t until the ice was placed on your head that you started to refocus. “Est-ce que ça va (are you okay)?” You nodded, though regretted it immediately. “Ouais. Tout va bien (yeah. I’m fine).” Carlos eventually came over and pulled Charles away to let the doctor examine you. You told them you were fine and that Charles was exaggerating ━━ which they laughed at ━━ before checking you out anyway and clearing you.

Though you know better, you thought that Charles and Carlos would leave it, but you were wrong because later when you got back from the bathroom, you saw the two men talking to a very angry looking Max. When Max saw you, he left the boys and headed straight for you, using his hands to bend your head down and check the back of your head. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?” You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “I feel like a monkey being inspected by another monkey.” He pulled your head back up so your eyes met his.

“Schatje.” “Max. I swear I’m fine, it was a mistake.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, “a mistake that shouldn’t happen.” You stars at him, unimpressed. “Max Emilian Verstappen if you do anything I’m not scratching your head tonight.” You told him as you walked away.

“Liefje! That’s not fair!”

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[star-sim]

japanese denim ☆ riki nishimura

☆ non-idol! riki x fem! reader ☆ summary: that one time your shower and heater broke down in the middle of winter, so you had to enlist the help of your neighbor... but since when was your neighbor so handsome?! ☆ genre: fluff, neighbors! au, high school! au, childhood friends to lovers, awkward crushessss ☆ word count: 3.6k

enjoy!

"Hi, I think my shower is broken, can I use yours?" Your nose scrunched as these words left your mouth.

There was no use feeling embarrassed. Especially in front of Riki Nishimura, your next door neighbor who you’ve known since you were a child. 

“Yeah,” Riki said simply, his raspy voice sounding indifferent as always. “Just make sure you have your own towel.”

Although it’s embarrassing to admit, this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. You lived in a dinky little apartment complex, one with pipes and plumbing so crappy that it would randomly break. All it took was a prayer and maybe a few nights and it would somehow work again.

Riki Nishimura, a boy your age, was your next-door neighbor. As you’ve lived in your current apartment since you were a child, you’ve known the boy since childhood as well. In fact, both of your parents were at work more often than not. So, on the nights where either of your parents weren’t home (which was most nights), there was an unsung agreement to watch out for each other.

Sometimes if you heard too much crashing and movement from Riki’s side of the wall (oh, damn those thin walls), you’d just give him a little shout.

It wasn’t an ideal living situation. In fact, it was messy, annoying, and sometimes downright scary. And yet, this was your life, and there was no escaping it.

Tonight wasn't anything special. 

Your shower had broken down once again, and of course, as you always did, you appeared at Riki’s door, in a bathrobe and slippers with your shower caddy and a towel. Cold and shivering, you cursed under your breath. 

Why did your shower have to break down on the coldest night of the year??

As children, you and Riki had a casual relationship. You actually went to the same elementary and middle schools— and now the same high school. You’d end up walking together to and from school everyday. So many days where you’d get ice cream or milk cartons together, and so many more days where you’d inevitably come over to his apartment to play on his gameboy because he wouldn’t shut up about it. And of course, you’d have to help each other out sometimes. 

He was a quiet guy, not someone who had a lot to say, but easily riled up. He was never great at getting along with people. 

You’re not as close to him as you used to be. He's rather lonesome and brooding, though he has bursts of energy and you're reminded of his fiery personality that stuck with him even through childhood.

Still, he was your friend. You were all grown up now, but it didn't mean that you weren't comfortable around him. If there was anyone that you felt comfortable around, it had to be Riki.

But, something has been weird lately.

You couldn't put your finger on, but lately, you couldn't look at Riki the same way. Sometimes it was normal, but some other times, you'd feel an uncharacteristic feeling of shyness around him. You simply couldn't wrap your head around it— but you just felt so, so, so weird around him

It was strange.

Walking with him to school every morning, you had a heightened awareness of what words he said, and more importantly, the way his raspy voice sounded. When the cool winter wind blew, you'd pick up the scent of his cologne, and for a moment, you'd think that he smelled nice.

Sometimes you'd accidentally brush your hand against his. For someone that you used to take baths with as a kid, it shouldn't be weird. But now it was.

Maybe it was just teenage hormones.

As you slowly undressed, you took a glance at Riki’s bathroom sink. Other than his toothbrush, his deodorant bottle, and maybe a few colognes, his sink was practically empty, very different from your own that had makeup, skincare, and the like cluttered around the sink. 

You folded your clothes neatly before stepping into the steaming shower. 

Since Riki’s apartment was in the same complex, it was identical to yours in build. And as you basked in the warm water, humming a tune from your favorite song, it almost felt like you were in your own bathroom.

You were almost forgetting that you were in Riki’s shower when you heard a little click! and suddenly hard rock music was blasting from the other side of the door.

Immediately, your eyes shot open.

“Will you turn it down?!” you shouted, though you were certain from the reverberation and echo in your voice that you were muffled. Geez, how rude of him to disturb your peaceful shower! You swore you heard Riki laughing his ass off from the other side. Asshole.

You relished in the warm shower on your skin, as best as you could despite Riki’s music. 

It felt normal for a few moments, until you were suddenly hit with that weird feeling of shyness. Riki's laugh rang in your head, the melodic tune of his hard rock bouncing off the walls. Has his laugh always sounded like that? 

You huffed, pushing it to the back of your mind.

Don't be weird about him, the little voice in your head said. It's just Riki.

You’re lost in thought as you finish your nice shower. The bathroom is still steamy as you step out of the shower, drying yourself off. 

Dry off completely, put on some body lotion, and maybe do some skincare, and now it's time to put on some clothes and—

Wait.

Where are your clothes?

You swore you brought your pajamas when you came knocking. Right? 

You were in your robe and bath slippers, and you made sure to bring in your caddy your body wash, lotion, and— oh my God, you 100% left your change of clothes in your room… instead of taking it with you!

So now you either put your bathrobe, which was soaked already, on…. or do the unthinkable.

Ugh.

Slowly, holding your towel tightly around you, you peeked your head out from the bathroom door. You felt your cheeks heating up as the boy snapped his head toward you. No longer the little boy you knew him as, he was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, scrolling on his phone and jamming to his music. 

Your gaze fell over his features—his once round and star-filled eyes now sharp, and his once squishy cheeks replaced by a strong jaw. 

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked so different, yet the same as you always remembered.

When did he grow up?

"Riki..." you stammered. The way Riki's face immediately contorted, morphing into a highly questioning expression as he fixed his gaze on you. And you didn't know why, but when his eyes met yours, you felt a newfound feeling of shyness. Something that you never felt around him of all people. "Riki, I—I think I left my clothes."

Your neighbor stared at you for a few moments, and for a second, you could almost swear that he was boring holes into you. You shifted uncomfortably, leaning into the doorframe to hide yourself. It's that odd feeling toward him again.

Then, he clicked his tongue, before sighing exasperatedly and getting up.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Where did you leave them?"

You squeaked. You thought back to earlier, just before your shower broke down. Did you lay out a fresh pair of pajamas to wear?

No, you didn't.

"U-Um," you stumbled over your words. This was really embarrassing. Your cheeks burned. "I didn't leave them—Canyougointomyroomandgetmyclothesfrommydrawers?"

Riki stared at you again, his slim eyes narrowing. He sighed again, muttering something under his breath that sounded too much like, "You're an idiot."

You murmured a thank you, and as he left the room, you shouted after him, "My front door's unlocked!"

After a few minutes of waiting in Riki Nishimura's bathroom, with your heart beating uncharacteristically fast, and in nothing but a bath towel, you finally heard the front door of the Nishimura apartment open and close.

"I have your clothes," Riki said coolly as he knocked on the bathroom door.

"Oh, thank you, Riki!" you cried in joy, the door much wider now. "I really owe you— T-Tomorrow I'll buy you a milk."

Maybe a little joyful.

Because you didn't notice your bath towel slipping down from your body and your chest was mere centimeters from being exposed—

Riki's hand jerked, immediately zapping out to grab the hem of the towel wrapped around your chest, gripping it tightly so that it stayed in place.

You squeaked again. "R-Riki?"

"Your—Your towel," he mumbled, and suddenly, his eyes that were so focused on you looked straight at the floor.

"Oh." Your cheeks flared with warmth. You snatched the sloppily-folded clothes that Riki got for you. You flashed Riki an awkward smile. 

"Thanks!" and then you shut the door immediately. 

How embarrassing! 

You rested your back against the bathroom door, holding your clothes close to your chest. Your eyes glazed over the way Riki had folded them, though it was a poor job. You snickered. One look at Riki's room, and it was clear that he wasn't the most organized person. But just because he knew you liked to keep things neat he folded your clothes just for you. How sweet of him.

You were about to forget the abnormal feelings of discomfort and shyness that you harbored toward him, when there was another knock on the bathroom door.

"[Name]..." Riki's voice was shaky, the shakiest that you've ever heard him. You hummed in response. "I think I— I think I forgot to give you your panties."

Oh my god.

The door barely cracked in and Riki threw you your panties, before the door slammed shut again.

Actually mortifying.

When you were done with your business, you took all of your belongings, carrying them out. Since the only way to get to the bathroom was to go through Riki’s room, the condensation and steam, scented with your body wash and shampoo, diffused through his room, filling the space with a sweet scent.

Riki, who was now sprawled across his bed, was reading manga, his head buried between the pages. Like always.

"Your body wash smells like strawberries," Riki remarked plainly as you left the bathroom and entered his room. 

"Yeah," you scoffed, pointing at the big lettering on your body wash bottle, reading strawberry-scented. "That's the point."

You could hear Riki snort. Slowly, he poked his head out of the manga book. His slim eyes stared into you, before you felt them travel down your body.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. There it was again. That weird feeling of shyness.

He threw his manga aside, before he stood up and inched toward you.

Has Riki always been this tall? And big? You don't remember him being that much taller than you.

Before you knew it, Riki was right in front of you, with his neck bent down to stare directly at your chest, eyes squinting.

"W-What are you looking at?!" you cried.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Wh—"

"I swear that's my shirt," Riki said, bringing his face even closer to your chest to get a better look. Mind you, it was the shirt that he picked from your closet to bring to you. It was an old Naruto shirt, and you couldn't remember when you got it. "Did you take my shirt? When did you get this shirt?"

"I don't know!" You put one hand on his head, pushing him away. You hear Riki yelping, followed by complaining, but you tune it out. "Stop looking at my boobs and maybe I'll tell you!"

Riki shut up. His eyes stared at you, widened and with his lips parted. Your cheeks felt hot, burning hot.

"I— I'm sorry," Riki stammered, and unfortunately, Riki was incredibly bad at hiding how he was feeling... because you could feel his eyes darting toward your chest again. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shut up!" you cried. Embarrassment took over. "I'm a girl, you know! You can't just stare at me and expect it to be okay!"

Riki, just as embarrassed as you, cried back, "Well, I forget that you're a girl sometimes! So cut me some slack!"

You groaned loudly, storming out of his apartment, tuning out his yelling while trying to ignore your own embarrassment.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Riki Nishimura is so stupid. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You stormed back to your apartment, slamming the door as loud as you could. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your cheeks feeling as if they'd been lit on fire. You marched right to your bedroom, ignoring the sound of your broken shower dripping. You threw everything aside, plopping straight onto your bed.

You were so embarrassed you were near tears, shoving your face in your pillows.

Why did Riki make you feel this way all of a sudden? On a normal day, you'd fight back, maybe even throw the first punch. But why were you now so resigned?

And you're just about to scream into your pillow and maybe do some stress-relief strategies when you hear a giant crack, another crash, and then suddenly your apartment was cold. You let out a shriek.

Freezing cold.

Usually it would take some time to notice that your heater had broken. In fact, in the summer you wouldn't even notice. But tonight was arguably one of the coldest nights in the entire year. So you noticed the way your home began to seemingly freeze over almost immediately.

You curled up under your blankets.

On nights like this, you always knew what to do: knock on Riki's door, and stay the night at his place. At least, under the assumption that his heating system didn't break down either.

But after what happened earlier, you didn't want to see Riki. Not now, not ever.

He's stupid and childish and insensitive! you thought. 

You huddled under your blankets. Shivering, you tried your best to ignore the cold. But without an internal heating system, you swore ice was going to form in your house.

Maybe you should go ask Riki...

Your mind drifted back.

His slim eyes, his annoyingly smug face that contorted into one of embarrassment. His sharp jaw and his steely gaze. Your heart sped up. It was just yesterday that Riki was a little boy. And now he was handsome. Really handsome, that it intimidated you.

You still felt like the little girl that would play fight with him and squish your cheek up against his. But now that you were grown, it didn't feel right to touch him the same way that you used to. There was a wall now.

Riki has always been Riki. He's never been anything more to you than just Riki. But now he was attractive.

And it was frustrating you.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you hear banging at the door and a familiar voice.

"Oi, [Name]!" It was Riki. You squeaked at the sound of his voice. "You good in there?!"

You didn't respond.

"I heard a scream, did something happen?" A few moments pass, and you still don't respond. Except, Riki is smarter than you think. "I know you're in there. I'm not going to leave until you say something!"

You huffed again. With your blankets draped over your shoulders and dragging behind your feet, you trudged to the door. Damn him.

"What do you want?" you squeaked as your door flew open, your eyes looking everywhere but into his. 

Riki cocked a brow at you, and you huffed again. "Fine, my heater broke. Not a big deal."

"Why didn't you call me?" Riki's brows crashed together. "It's near-freezing outside."

"It's not that cold," you murmured, but Riki scowled, clicking his tongue. He was observant, and you knew he knew you were lying when his eyes fell down to your feet covered in layers of fluffy socks and to your legs that were shivering under the blankets.

"Stop lying, I know you're cold," he scoffed. "Come over. My heater's fine."

"I don't want to."

Riki reached out, your hands falling into his. "Your hands are freezing, come on."

And you'd object, if it weren't for the way his warm hands felt in yours, if it weren't for the way you already felt warmer with Riki.

Contrary to popular belief, Riki Nishimura was actually a pretty difficult person to read.

Well, at least, that's what he hoped.

It's no secret to anyone that Riki cared deeply about you. Riki's annoyed easily and he's a loner but that doesn't mean he's emotionless. Even though sometimes he feels like you view him that way.

Though, that seemed to be the general pattern.

Everyone knew that Riki was enamored with you. And yet, you didn't seem to realize that in the slightest. Because you're dense and just as stupid as he is. And to be fair, he tends to be quiet when he's around you.

One day Riki woke up and he realized that you weren't just you, but a very pretty girl, too. And the next thing he knew, you were all he could think about. You had always kept him at an arm's distance, and frankly, Riki was okay with that. As long as he got to keep you in his life, he was happy.

Maybe a little cynical for a boy his age, but Riki was so sure that he'd never have a chance with you. You were sweet and pretty, and he was everything but.

"Why are you still wearing just pajamas?" Riki couldn't help but scold you, rummaging through his closet searching for a hoodie for you to wear. "It was freezing in your apartment!"

You didn't say anything.

"And why didn't you come to me? You know my heater never breaks, and—"

You just sat on his bed, both your and his blanket over your shoulders, completely silent, eyes staring at the ground.

Riki bit the inside of his cheek.

Had he made you uncomfortable earlier? It killed him knowing that he did.

Riki sighed. His stomach pitted.

He glanced at your face: pretty as always, but awfully vacant.

Damn it, he thought. Did he just ruin it?

Riki inched toward you, a hoodie in hand. He murmured something under his breath, placing the hoodie down next to you on his bed.

His chest felt heavy.

He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. In a world full of weirdos Riki always wanted to be your friend.

"Hey," he started, his voice soft. "I'm really— I'm really sorry about earlier."

Your eyes gazed up at him, blinking slowly, and before you could respond, Riki continued.

"I... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," his voice stayed quiet, but Riki kept his eyes on your face. "I- I—"

"Wait what?" You finally said, your face contorted. "You didn't make me uncomfortable."

"But..." Riki's brows furrowed together. You looked at him, your eyes locked together. You stared at him for a few moments, before you huffed. 

"Just shut up," you muttered, before curling further into Riki's bed, turning your back to him.

Riki stood there, staring at your back. He dug his nails into his palm. It was so weird, for it to be awkward between you and him.

"Aren't you cold too?" you asked slowly after a few seconds. 

"Right," Riki blinked. "Can I— Should I lay with you? Or..."

Riki watched your expression twitch. "I-It's your bed. You can do whatever y-you want."

"Right."

So awkward.

Both you and Riki laid in his bed, like planks, refusing to get to close. Which was weird, because you and him used to nap together all the time as kids.

The two of you laid in silence, until you broke it.

"Riki, is your heater on?"

He hummed. "Yeah. Is it not warm enough?"

You sniffled, and now that Riki heard your voice, you sounded raspy and dry. "I think I.. I think I'm coming down with a cold."

Riki could feel you physically shaking beside him, shivering like crazy. His hand reached out for your face. You let out a small eep! as you flinched away.

Riki jerked his hand away from you.

You stared at his startled expression. "S-Sorry."

Riki's hand crept closer to your face again. "Can I?"

You nodded, and Riki brought his hand up to feel your forehead.

"Shit, you're really warm," he muttered. "Do you feel feverish?"

You shook your head. Riki was about to bring his hand away, but you clutched his wrist, keeping his hand there on your forehead. 

"Don't," you said, as your eyelids fell shut. "You're so warm."

Riki watched with a warm face as you nuzzled into his large hands. Under his palm, you still shivered with such ardor. 

Like when you were kids, Riki's arm slithered down to your shoulder carefully. Before he pulled you closer, with his voice as low as a whisper, he asked, "Can I?"

You only hummed, and that was all Riki needed to pull you into his embrace. You were still trembling, and despite being buried under layers and layers of blankets, your skin was so cold to the touch.

You let out a small squeak, before you pushed your face closer into him.

"So cold," you said into his chest.

"I know," Riki whispered. "I know, [Name]."

Your breath was now slowing down, your words slurring as you mumbled a small thanks under your breath.

"Of course," he said back, chuckling as you seemingly tried to dig yourself into his skin.

"Love you," you murmured, and everything froze for Riki. "Thanks for everything, Riki."

And with that, you were asleep.

Fighting the stupid grin that was taking purchase on his face, Riki could only breathe into your ear, "I love you, too."