#i wanted to give as thorough an answer as i could

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

Miller Bros Contracting & Car Wash

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. there's a car wash near my house called Tommy's Express and it got me thinking about our Miller brothers running one before their contracting business really caught on. any historical inaccuracies are because i did not exist in the 1900s in any capacity. i also didn't have the brainpower to write this into a full-fledged fic. bon appetit.

so it’s around the mid-90s

when Joel and Tommy first started their contracting business, it was really slow drumming up enough work to pay the bills and they needed side work to bring in more income

baby Sarah suggested a car wash after “helping” Uncle Tommy wash the truck in the driveway

said car wash was no more than a little wooden stand at the end of the office’s parking lot with a hose, buckets, and rags and sponges

Tommy primarily did all the washing while Joel was in the office keeping an eye on the phone but he’d come out and pitch in on particularly quiet days (and when Sarah needed to burn off some energy)

Tommy is only ever clad in jean booty shorts and flip flops (no shirt because he’s a slut) and purposefully gets himself soaking wet and sudsy anytime a cute girl drives into the lot

(he has a special mixtape that he plays on such occasions and puts on a little extra show while washing, just squatting and flexing left and right. eventually Sarah learns all the words to both "Baby Got Back" and "Tootsee Roll" and Joel is pissed.)

(Tommy once caught Joel humming in the kitchen and never lets him forget it. “hey Joel, it’s your favorite song”)

anyway

you’re new to Austin

you and your old-ass 1982 Chrysler LeBaron convertible (to quote @maggiemayhemnj) that you got as a teen after earning your driver’s license – you got to pick the car, the only condition was that it had to be used

you roll in one day, long overdue for a wash

Tommy gets himself ready then does a double take after you park and he sees the car

he starts just circling it and inspecting practically every inch – “goddamn, how is this thing still runnin’?”

Joel watches Tommy fanboy over the car a bit from inside the office before poking his head out the door and calling to him to get to work

you play along with Tommy and his flirting – you can’t deny that he’s sexy – but you just can’t stop stealing glances at his older brother through the front window

and after you go inside to pay and Joel tells you to drive safe? you’re a goner

you become their first regular – because Tommy is just so thorough and even put air in your tires one time when they were low, no extra charge – definitely not because of his big brother pretending not to watch the two of you

“there’s my favorite hunk o’ junk!” – Tommy’s go-to greeting

one day you come by and it’s rattling like crazy

you go inside to pay afterwards, as usual, and Joel finally says more than just the polite sendoff – “uh, s’probably not my place to say but you should really get that noise checked out. sounds like it could give out at any second.”

“oh, you could hear that, huh?” “darlin’, you’d have to be deaf not to hear it. jus’ want you to be safe.”

as luck would have it, it craps out just a few days later

you dig out the Miller Bros Contracting & Car Wash business card – the only one you’ve ever kept because it has Joel’s number on it – and walk a couple blocks to the nearest payphone

Joel answers and you’re all anxious and apologetic that you didn’t know who else to call

he just says “i’m on m’way”

you have to resist the urge to curl up and hide when Joel parks his truck in the space next to you and grabs a toolbox out of the bed

you stand off to the side, watching respectfully as he fiddles around under the hood before determining it’s a battery issue

“thought i told you to get it looked at”

“i did but the guy said i need a whole new battery and i just don’t have that kind of money lying around right now”

“how much did he quote you on it?”

however much it was, it’s way too high and Joel knows it – greedy bastards taking advantage of single women who don’t know any better

“tell you what, lemme give you a jump jus’ to get ‘er going and i’ll fix it up for ya”

and he does not take no for an answer - "i ain't leavin' you to deal with any more sleazy mechanics"

you follow him back to his house where he tells you to go ahead and park in the driveway

he opens up the garage and starts grabbing tools when he stops and curses himself, turning to you and rubbing the back of his neck

“i, uh. i'm missing a pretty important part. you're more than welcome to wait here while i go run and get it, i won’t be long.”

you start to protest, he’s done so much for you already, you’re fine with just borrowing their phone book and calling a tow, but Joel is not having it

next thing you know, you’re sat on the living room floor with baby Sarah munching on a bowl of cereal and watching Wakko Warner sing about all 50 united states and their capitals

Tommy finally comes downstairs and sees the two of you hanging out and almost has a heart attack before turning on his Charm

you flirt with each other for a few minutes before he joins his older brother outside

“what’d’ya do to my favorite hunk o’ junk?”

“don’t even think about it”

“what? i didn’t say anything.”

“you were ‘bout to”

“well-”

“if you’re gonna stand there and bother me, at least make yourself useful and hand me that thing”

eventually Joel finishes up and heads inside to see Sarah sprawled halfway across your lap on the floor

“uh…your, uh, you’re good to go. lemme just, uh, take her and i'll see you out.”

the sight of Joel carrying his baby girl up the stairs to her bed is enough spank bank material to last you for weeks

he comes back down and leads you back out to your car, passing Tommy on his way in and he gives you a cheeky wink

your driver’s door is already open with the keys in the ignition so all you have to do is get in and drive away

instead, you stall by trying to offer some money to cover the cost of the parts and Joel shuts you down immediately

“you’ve already given us enough of your money, s’the least i can do”

“well, sure, but i was paying for a service. that's not the same thing.”

“you know what, you actually did me a huge favor by keeping an eye on Sarah for me. so how ‘bout we call it even?”

“okay”

and before you can even think, you step forward and kiss him

and Joel kisses back

you barely pull away and Joel grips your wrist

“what was that for?”

“…your tip?”

he just laughs and leans in, lips not quite touching again

“drive safe, darlin’”

[lenteur]

bias tag game

rules: you're going to pick 10 of your biases (or as many biases as you have and then fill in the rest of the spots with idols you like) and number them 1-10. then answer the questions below! try not to look at the questions before you make your list!

tagged by @yoohyeontual (not gonna lie, i'm still tempted to write @/korimi4) ♡ tagging: @byunbaekhyunie @kangseulqi @kingdomtual @kjisoos @kwon-eunbi @psyoungs @seulggi @soraenun @urons @venompinks and anyone who wants to do this game, consider yourself tagged

yes i am aware most of the biases listed below are no longer active idols but they still hold a special place in my heart ❤️

1.krystal / 2. suzy / 3. yeri / 4. yerin baek / 5. hikaru / 6. kang mina / 7. yeonjun / 8. nana (from woo!ah!) / 9. ahn sohee / 10. luna

1. between 7 and 5, who did you bias first? considering he debuted first, this one goes for yeonjun.

2. between 2 and 6, who are you more attached to? bae suzy ♡ i've grown up with her and i don't think i'll ever stop ulting her

3. if you were to spend the day with either 3 or 1, who would you choose and what would you do? i was hoping to not end up with this kind of question because i know i'm way too awkward and wouldn't know what to say/do. other than that, the only instance where i'd want to meet one of my biases is at a concert, that's it! with that in mind, and after some consideration, i'm choosing krystal because i feel like we relate to some degree with each other. and she'd show me cool places with beautiful architecture.

4. what is your favorite physical feature about 9? i've always thought her face was stunning. i just don't know how to explain it but yeah, beautiful face!

5. what is your favorite part of 6's personality? i'll say her perseverance (had to check the spelling). she went through the whole produce 101 situation, ended up in the final gg. and then she went on to debut with gugudan and had to go through her company not paying enough attention to the group as a whole. when her contract ended, she then chose to pursue a career in acting. and i think that's beautiful because you can see how much effort she puts to reach her goals.

6. if you were to tell 8 anything you wanted, what would you tell them? so many things i want to say... first, i'd like to tell her to never lose her smile because her joy is contagious. also, she is an incredible performer. whenever i watch woo!ah! fancams, my attention is drawn to her because her stage presence is amazing. and you can see how much she likes being on stage and performing songs with her group. so, all in all, nana you're such a fantastic performer and i can't wait to see you perform other songs.

7. between 1 and 2, whose closet would you raid? ... ..... .............. ...................................... it was a rather difficult choice because i like both of their styles but i'm going to go with suzy, especially her guess outfits. they're cute! and the carin glasses were amazing as well. oh and she's also a new longines ambassafor and i'm a big fan of watches so yeah :D suzy wins this one ^^

8. what is a style that you want to see 3 try? i don't know if it's already happened but i totally see yeri rock a retro (60s/70s/80s) concept. and i'm talking about both clothing and music. i think she'd pull it off well. i'm curious to see that

9. between 5 and 4, who are you closer to in height? i really thought it was hikaru but no, it's yerin baek. i'm actually in the middle between the two.

10. between 10 and 9, whose music do you like the best? considering ahn sohee hasn't released solo music, i'll go with luna. even if i had to choose between wonder girls and f(x), i'd still choose f(x) because i like their music better (just a tiny bit)

[determinate-negation]

I have a question, and i mean this neutrally. When a gfm says it is “verified” and the verification is (as it often is) simply a blogger reblogging the post with no info, how are we meant to understand the gfm was verified? the handful of palestinian bloggers on here that verify gfm cant exactly spend so many hours for every campaign to make absolutely sure its legit. I mean they are human and most likely in troubled conditions themselves (or have family in difficulty). So we cant expect this vetting to be that thorough. How are we meant to know they didnt just rb the post without checking, or fall for the scam themself?

the palestinian and arabic speaking bloggers who have been verifying campaigns have been giving info on how they verify, mostly i think through messaging people in arabic and asking them stuff but i dont know for sure. i know that some arabic speaking bloggers on here have said that they dont want to post publicly in detail how they verify people because scammers will see and figure out how to look more legit. there also is a specific palestinian dialect of arabic that people who arent actually palestinian will most likely not speak.

please refer to things like the vetted fundraiser list or other fundraisers on @/el-shab-hussein @/nabulsi @/sar-soor blogs as i think those are some of the most authoritative bloggers on here for this. if something is verified by multiple people its likely its real.

i dont really know what else you want people to do. i understand your concern but your skepticism is just based on your belief that the people verifying this are too busy to really look into it. you also can look into peoples accounts yourself you know. reverse image search their photos, look up their name to see if they have other social media. a lot of people might have instagram or facebook but only recently made a tumblr. just use some critical thinking and information literacy for gods sake instead of immediately being suspicious of everyone to the point where you are accusing random people of being scammers just because they dont know how this site works. or on the opposite end, reblogging things like insulin paypal campaigns which are the most common scam on here. just think and use context clues pleaseeeeeeee. because accusing someone of being a scammer without evidence and spreading that information could actually have life or death outcome. i just dont answer asks that seem ambiguous and arent verified, i think thats better than potentially hurting a real person asking for donations by publicly calling them a scammer or reporting their blog

[freyito]

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language. 

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably. 

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about. 

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time. 

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be. 

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning. 

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze. 

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child. 

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[noosayog]

002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!” 

“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly. 

You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile? 

–

“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says. 

“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble. 

“True. But he is an idiot.” 

You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale. 

“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.” 

You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter. 

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.

“Huh?” 

“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?” 

Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen. 

“Why not?” 

He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it. 

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you. 

And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl. 

“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently. 

You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in. 

“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.” 

Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps. 

The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating. 

“So, found a guy to take you out?” 

“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have. 

“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.” 

You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this: 

“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases. 

“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both. 

“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?” 

With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation. 

When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim. 

It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant. 

When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child. 

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!” 

“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”

You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently. 

“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.” 

That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice. 

“‘Samu…” 

“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.” 

It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you. 

–

Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted. 

He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight. 

At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.

And it goes on. 

As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular. 

–

When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter. 

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.” 

He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before. 

Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.” 

“Dude, nice try,” you had said. 

But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night. 

He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break. 

“I’ll walk with ya.” 

“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit. 

Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time. 

You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight. 

As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway. 

“I’m onto ya,” he starts. 

You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.” 

It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.

“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you. 

“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.  

Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face. 

It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself. 

It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had. 

His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway. 

Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. 

He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs. 

“Why do ya let him get to you like that?” 

You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes. 

“Who?” you mumble. 

But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air. 

“I don’t know… I just…” 

“Are ya still in love with my brother?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. 

Osamu raises his brows. 

“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.” 

“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?” 

“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off. 

He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin. 

“I wanna get him back,” you admit. 

Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.

“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!” 

“Huh?” 

“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-” 

“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.” 

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation. 

“Osamu…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before. 

But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used. 

His question goes unanswered. 

– 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu. 

It doesn’t make you miss him any less. 

You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it���s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around. 

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision. 

That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock. 

The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth. 

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?” 

There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.

“Uh,” you stutter. 

“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-” 

“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say. 

“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”

“Just wait a minute, okay-” 

“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”

“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu. 

You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone. 

Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.” 

Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks. 

You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.

Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act. 

When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory. 

Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do. 

“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-” 

Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out. 

“Hey, ‘Samu!” 

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face. 

Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope. 

He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy. 

“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you. 

He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly. 

“You just…?” he prompts. 

The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself. 

Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.” 

His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?” 

His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him. 

“Missed you,” you whisper. 

Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you. 

“And I like you so much, Osamu.” 

He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap. 

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?” 

He stops stroking your hair. 

“What, ya don’t like it?” 

You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk. 

He’s teasing, you realize.

You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him. 

You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time. 

“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?” 

You nod shyly. 

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.” 

“I want it.” 

“Alright. C’mere then.” 

You oblige. 

“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck. 

You nod. 

“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?” 

It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle. 

“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” 

It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.” 

You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth. 

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs. 

“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”

[homunculus-argument]

The thing about perfect pitch is that it's a combination of having an inherent knack for it, and having that skill honed with a musical education. Someone who could recognise a specific note by the ear but was never taught notes cannot do it, and someone who simply wasn't born with the potential for it can't learn it no matter how thorough of a musical education they have.

I think the same thing applies to what I've come to refer to as "a few raisins is five raisins" type of instruction-giving. The ability to instinctively assess how much information and detail somebody wants or needs when they're asking for instructions. People who cannot do this are enraged by the idea that someone thinks they can, btw. How dare somebody arbitrarily decide to withdraw information and take away someone's agency concerning choices that they don't want to make and whose outcome doesn't matter much.

I'd consider that I have a pretty good knack for it, myself. It's been honed by working both with people who refuse to give exact instructions, my own difficulties in asking for sufficiently exact instructions when I've needed them, and working with people with varying preferences towards instruction-exactness.

People who refuse to give clarifications to their instructions and guidelines in things that they are familiar with leave you no other choice than to demonstrate just how wrong their vague answers can be interprated before they're willing to clarify. If you ask someone "how long does this usually roughly take?" and they just go "I cannot answer that, it varies so much from person to person, every single individual case is different" on and on, refusing to give the roughest of rough estimates, all you can do is say "okay so it can take anything between 20 minutes and 20 years." And only then will they say "oh no, it's more like 3-6 years on average", which was the exact answer you wanted in the first place.

It's not really a comprehension thing, but a moral code to them. I don't believe in having ethical principles that serve no other role than inconvenience absolutely everyone including myself, so I have no qualms about giving simplified instructions. If someone who needs exact instructions is trying to follow a recipe that tells them to add "a few raisins" freezes at the vagueness and asks "how much is 'a few' raisins?" they want an exact number.

Someone who isn't comfortable trusting their own assessment of how much is 'a few' won't be helped by being told to follow their heart and make their own choices. They specifically want somebody to just give some sort of a guideline about this. And being the type that's more comfortable just eyeballing things, I can assess that in this context "a few" means roughly half of a small handful of raisins, and quickly estimate that one half of a small handful is roughly 4-6 individual raisins.

And instead of getting needlessly difficult about refusing to say it, I can just say "oh, that's about five raisins", and everyone can carry on with their day.

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The Same Place as the Music” Lighting & Color

“Where is the light coming from?” “The same place as the music.” Andrew Lesnie, Cinematographer of LOTR

How & Why It's A Problem

If I had to summarize the frustration I have with this topic in one image, I'd use JeCorey Holder's (queer Black creative!) meme:

Now here's the thing. I'm not saying you have to be a master at lighting. I'm surely not. Hell, I still play around with lighting in my art in ways that aren’t the ‘most realistic’. You can’t ask me the technical explanations behind ‘color theory’ or 'contrast' without me doing some more reading. However… I don’t think anyone needs an art degree to understand this point:

We should be able to SEE your brown skinned Black characters!

I brought this up in my lessons about skin tones and blushing, and it applies with lighting as well. If all of your other characters have focused light and shadows, so should your Black characters.

However, this does NOT mean making them lighter-skinned!!!!

It's not funny nor logical at all to suggest that they somehow can't be seen like your other characters when you’re the one creating the piece. It's like a classic fifth-grade racist joke, “You blend in at night”. Har-de-har.

I was once rudely told to my face (well in the DMs) that a Black character that was completely Europeanized looked like that “because of the [sepia] lighting”. So I'm going to give you all, gracious readers, an example to show that that's not true.

This is Ana Flávia, Afro-Brazilian model! Gaze upon her beauty! Notice how in both of these filters, Ana did not, in fact, turn into a white woman! Because, my friends, that is not how that works! At all!

Here are some other examples of Black people in non-color lighting:

None of these people vanished from the frame just because there was no color. They didn't have to paint on lighter makeup to be captured by the camera. What do they all have in common (in this example)?

Lighting!

Now let’s discuss different ways to think about and potentially try instead!

What I want you all to keep in mind, is that the art you’re painting:

And I know that's silly right, like yeah no shit Ice, we knew that. BUT my point here is don’t be afraid to study photography, theatre, and staging for ideas. They actively work with light! It’s why I share so many images of models; it’s purposeful, focused staging of light with many of these compositions!

Brown-skinned Black people- brown-skinned people in general- GLOW in the light! Our skin reflects environmental light! There’s so much opportunity to play with that, and you can see different examples in those mediums.

Here are a couple articles of lighting in film focused on Black actors.

When lighting a person with dark complexion, the answer is not LIGHTENING THE SKIN, it’s understanding how light reflects off of dark skin.” -Nilah Magruder

Nilah Magruder (Black creator!) has an ENTIRE, thorough and wonderful essay on the topic, far better than I could give! She incorporates the use of cameras, lighting, painting, and more- so rather than be redundant here, I'm going to spotlight (ha see what I did there. It's okay, I know I'm funny) her and her explanation.

Incorporating Blackness in Color/Colorful Lighting

@dsm7 has an excellent and short visual explanation of how picking certain colors will lead to washing out or whitewashing Black characters, and how certain lighting and backgrounds (think the black and white photos on brighter backgrounds) will change the way their skin tone looks.

@nicosbighead has one of my favorite images on here, that shows how many different colors can still be used to convey the image of Blackness. Notice how all those pinks still worked?

@gaksdesigns has a beautiful picture here that I feel utilizes the light in a very minimal yet effective way to show highlights even on a palette that's fully brown.

This article approaches from a lighting perspective via filmmaking, but essentially Sade Ndya suggests instead of increasing the amount of light, change the color/lens of the light based on your character’s skin, as well as for the circumstances of the scene. They'll remain vibrant that way, and you’ll still capture what you need.

I know one way I do this on CSP (I think I’ve mentioned this but I can’t remember) is to use the Add Glow tool with the same or a similar shade of the character’s brown skin tone as a highlight under natural light, or maybe use different colors or filters depending on the sort of light on their skin at the time.

Here’s a reddit about it too, just because I know y’all value Reddit on here, and someone else discussed the topic that both Nilah and Sade discussed.

Is It Intentional?

There are going to be times where you intend for the light to be minimal. Maybe it’s a style choice. That should still show purposeful composition. Here’s an interview with famed Black director Ava Duvernay discussing the intentional darkness on Black actors in the prison scene in the movie Selma. To show that they're both trapped in prison AND that Martin is temporarily low on resolve- it's a part of the story that's being told.

I'm always talking about this: there is a difference between intention (and following through), and neglecting to think about it at all. And neglect isn't what we want, because often we can tell visually when it is- when an artist simply did not think to do it for one versus the rest.

Sidenote, on Youtube in the suggestions after Ava's interview, are also plenty of videos discussing lighting for dark-skin as well- why not take the chance to look?

Conclusion

We do not lack for light! We aren’t flat and lightless when you see us in life. It's actually a pretty awesome part of being brown-skinned. If you’re giving proper, flattering lighting to everyone else, give it to us as well. Study and experiment with ways to highlight brown skin.

You already know what I’m going to say. It’s going to take practice, same as anything else, because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[pearlywritings]

Surprisingly

synopsis: for the public eye, the head of the Oak Family and his wife are a loving couple. In private they are astonishingly content with each other too.

pairing: Sunday x fem!reader

tw: fluff, arranged marriage, reader is halovian, established some time before the game quest on Penacony.

word count: 2.8k+ words

Nothing supports the man’s prestige and public image more than a proper marriage with a proper woman. So, I want you to meet this very woman, my child…

Two months, fifteen days and one hour. That’s exactly how long ago Sunday became a husband. A role he didn’t imagine himself playing, not with the role assigned to him from above. But, it was Gopher Wood - his adoptive parent basically, who brought you to him and announced his grand plan. And even if the head of the Oak Family had his doubts initially, a thorough conversation held with and without the Dreammaster, plus your immaculate background and some more specific matters proved to him that you were indeed chosen rightfully. He wasn’t sure if it was Mr Wood’s way of helping him, offering you as an aid at handling some of the work-related matters but with the seemingly perfect image of being wed - the elder gave no answers, however Sunday knew better than to question some of his schemes.

And so, your union was sealed. The ceremony wasn’t something exceptionally huge, none of you wanted that, but it was public enough for everyone and their mother to be talking about it. A couple of perfectly sterile interviews, some joint photos and three or four public appearances together, and people have been fooled enough to believe that.

That was enough.

Something as shocking as a wedding would avert the public eye and serve a great purpose in deceiving the people. After all, newlyweds are far too busy for one of them to be plotting something, right?

Right. So right, that Sunday himself was in a somewhat daze for the first week. But it’s understandable - on top of his regular responsibilities he had to prepare for the wedding and get to know the person he was about to spend life with better. Surprisingly, you turned out to be very understanding and supporting from day one, actively participating in whatever additional activity served on the man’s plate. It was weird, new and confusing, but above all he caught himself considering it not unwelcome.

You are astonishingly easy to work with. Well-versed in the matters of Family (but he shouldn't be all too surprised, given who brought you to him), soft, yet - when needed - firm spoken, not afraid to face the crowd in your husband's place for a public announcement and taking a portion of his responsibilities without any questions asked. If not for your interactions outside of all of that, Sunday would've thought you were his secretary and not a wife (but even a secretary wouldn't have known as much as you are aware of).

You are…comfortable. Sunday should really reproach himself for giving in so quickly, but it’s so hard not to. Maybe his vigilance is lulled with security of his patron’s choice or maybe it’s his own longing for normal civil interaction with someone close, but it didn’t take much time to start entertaining your sparks of curiosity.

Oh, how curious you are. Despite being trapped in a loveless marriage, you’ve been willing to learn about him from day one, trying to unfurl at least one tiny secret of his every day. He knows that because you are methodical, because you write it down (and you don’t hide the fact - when he, alarmed, asked or rather demanded you to show him that little notepad of yours, you just did so, with an explanation of your reasoning.)

Speaking of getting to know each other better… It’s still half an hour before your recently established tea time, but… But maybe he could summon you earlier? 

I hope, my child, this woman will become your reprieve. You are not obligated to love her, see her as just a companion, but feel free to treat her as a continuation of yourself. I educated her to match you specifically, after all.

As a continuation of himself… Isn’t it cruel to speak such things of a sentient being? Isn’t it putting one into the position of submission? 

Somehow it feels bitter on the tongue when he thinks of you.

His hand reaches for the bell, but promptly stops before the fingertips can touch the polished metal. Ah, of course, he asked to not be disturbed today. So, let him not violate his own order. He can find you on his own, not to mention, a small walk around the building might help clearing up his mind. Lately, he’s been thinking too much.

Spacious halls of the Dewlight Pavilion are empty, he knows as much, yet he hopes he won’t have to roam for too long, as the gloved hands push the doors of the meeting room. Today you two decided to work from the main Family residence in need of some materials here, and since no congregations were scheduled for the day, the building was all yours.

Each step of his is muffled by the carpet, lining the exactly 39 stairs, every next one lifting some of the weight from his shoulders and smoothing the deep frown of light gray brows. When his heels click on the small podium with the additional three steps, Sunday feels like his head is cleared. 

Stepping on the carpet again, he finally ends up in the big hall with the 5 Lineages symbols and a big City Sandpit in the middle. Quickly fishing his phone out of the pocket, he swiftly unlocks the screen and finds your name in the recent calls, dialing it.

When did it happen that conversations with you outnumbered ones with his sister?

You pick up the phone after just two seconds.

“Hello? What is it, Sunday?”

Ah, straight to the point, he admires that. And the calmness of your tone is surprisingly grounding.

“I was wondering if you’d join me earlier,” he speaks softly, barely holding off from calling you ‘dear’. It’s not wrong for the spouses, but how would you react? He asks strange questions lately. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come fetch you.”

“To answer your first question, I’d love to,” the young man might lie to himself, but he swears he heard your voice sweeten just a little. It makes the little wings behind his ears flutter, which he is quick to still. “As for your second one, however, you might want to look down.”

Sunday follows your instruction without much thought, looking right at the red carpet covering the marble floor.

“...I don’t believe I understand.”

He hears you chuckle, a tinkling sound, lacking any malice. His left wing slightly jerks as the favorable noise fills his left ear through the phone.

“The City Sandpit, beautiful. I am not far from the origami birds’ nest.”

As he moves to round the table, your husband’s heart skips a beat. You called him beautiful, you have done so on multiple occasions already. You praised his intellect, you gently clapped for the perfect choice of the clothes for the day he made, you agreed with him on the most mundane things incorporated into your daily lives. And not once it felt forced or fake. You were surprisingly sincere with him - he would’ve thought that with the Dreammaster’s upbringing you’d have been all mastered flashy smiles and sickly sweet polished words.

But here you’ve been, admiring him in your own quite blunt kind of way.

He immediately spots your tiny figure among the fake buildings on the city’s layout. You are waving at him with a smile.

“Found me,” he hears again in the speaker, but now also from you as well.

“Found you,” Sunday echoes, reaching his free hand to you. When he curls his fingers, you understand and, clutching the strap of the bag hanging from your shoulder, carefully climb onto his open palm.

Your husband is careful, finishing the call and putting the phone aside, before cupping the other hand under the one holding your sitting figure. Bringing you closer to his eyes he can see all the little details on the pretty pale blue dress you left home in this morning, with your second pair of clipped wings wrapped around the waist like another skirt. Then his gaze skims along your neck, adorned in one of the pendants he gifted you and then up to the first pair of wings, bigger than his when you are your normal size. 

He doesn’t have an opportunity to marvel over your intricate halo, because your eyes capture his in a vice, looking at him inquiringly.

“Didn’t expect you to take a break earlier. I thought you liked to stick to your routine.”

This was probably the first thing you learned about your back then betrothed.

“I do,” a tiny smile adorns his pale lips, “however, today I managed to wrap the most attention-requiring matters up earlier. Now only the mundane cases are left.”

“Good to hear that,” you hum, swinging your stocking-clad legs a little. His golden eyes look over your form once more, capturing the image of surprising comfortability in the hands of a bigger being, one that could crash your body so easily at the moment.

“I do wonder however about the reason behind your current predicament,” the male tilts his head in an inquiring way. “I believe I’ve never seen you enter the City Sandpit.”

Well, not to count the very first time he was giving you a tour.

“Oh, as I said, I know your routine, so I usually leave it before our meetings. I actually enter it quite often when we stay here,” is your answer that makes Sunday’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Pardon?”

“It’s easier to do paperwork this way,” motioning to the bag still on your shoulder, you then huff in annoyance. “If only you knew how eager your subordinates to bother me whenever you are unavailable. I am well-informed of my seeming position as the “lady-of-the-house”, but I’ve never signed up to be a link element between you and them, let alone a pawn in someone’s game of becoming first to seek your favor. Pardon me for my straightforwardness, but I much prefer interactions without actual feedback from the interlocutor if the situation doesn’t require otherwise. Except for you, of course.”

Except for him.

“You are my equal. You can always order them not to bother you,” drawing his hands closer to the chest, Sunday turns and starts walking closer to the table’s side where the gates are located.

“As if,” he glances down and catches just the end of your eye roll. “Mister Wood would have had my head if I ruined your picture as little as being distant from your inner circle. I’d much rather prefer just to hide away when needed and return to my secondary duties once I’m done with the primary.”

With the Dreammaker’s upbringing you would think a person can’t be as open-minded. Sunday is sure that it was no different from his - after all you have the clipped wings to match his. But, it seems, you found a way to temporarily escape from the suffocating clutches. Today he learnt a new thing about you, and, surprisingly it warms his soul instead of feeling repulsed.

He carefully puts you down just in front of the gates from the city’s side. Almost knocking off  a little ”DO NOT TOUCH” card near it, your husband moves to the right to let you step out. And in a couple of seconds of blinding light you stand before him in all your tall glory.

“Thank you for making the trip across the city so much shorter,” you grin, shaking the bag’s strap down your shoulder and rolling it, before unwrapping the wings from around your waist and spreading them in a stretch.

“It was my pleasure,” his tone is even, yet the gaze with which he watches you move gives him out. To this day and probably for a long while the levels of intimacy that used to be unknown to him yet which you display are going to surprise him. Sunday almost feels an annoying twinge of upsetness when you rewrap your wings around the dress’s skirt. Though it lets him see a couple of ruffled feathers and he has to suppress the urge of his hand to reach and fix them for you.

Yes, there is some intimacy between you lately, but not close enough.

“If you give me a moment to drop off my papers, I’ll be swift in joining you,” your voice breaks the man out of his self-restraining thoughts, and he lifts his eyes from your waist back to your face.

“Ah, it won’t be necessary. I’d like to have our tea time back at the meeting room, I have some things to discuss with you.”

“So official,” you smile, taking a step to join his side. “Alright then, let us be on our way up. Would you like to fill me in on the agenda of our ‘meeting’?”

“Sure,” Sunday chooses to ignore your teasing, but habitually offers you his elbow to hook your arm in it. “My sister is going to visit soon and she seems to be quite pissed at me.”

“Miss Robin?” Your question is laced with puzzlement. “I assumed from your stories of her that she is hardly in a sour mood.”

“It is true, yes,” your husband sighs, leading you up the first set of stairs. “But I would’ve been mad too if my sibling had gotten married and I did not know a thing.”

“She does not know about us?”

The man nearly halts in his ascending. If he didn’t know better and where your thoughts and loyalties stood in this marriage, he would’ve believed you are offended that he kept such an important fact a secret from his only family member. Nevertheless, he continues his walking.

“I sent her an invitation, you know that. But it seems the planet she’s been on is pretty far away and she’s gotten my message only recently, on her way back. I loathe to admit it, but now I feel very bad and the situation itself is iunjust. I am aware we were in a rush, all because of the- you know why,” he sees you nod from the corner of his eye and feels your fingers carefully dig into his arm, “but Robin has always wanted to be a maid of honor at my wedding. And I ripped this opportunity from her.”

And I am not going to get married the second time. This he did not voice out loud.

For a moment you both fall silent. You get lost in thought, Sunday does so too, analyzing his own words, wondering if this speech of his was too personal, if it was painting him as weak in your eyes.

And his own.

You speak only when he reaches for the knob and twists in to swing the door open and lead you two inside.

“So, how much time do we have before she gets here?”

“Maybe a couple of days,” he breaks the lock of your arms and gets a hold on the strap, sliding the bag down your shoulder and turning to put it aside for the time being. “Why asking?”

“You are a good brother, I can see that, “ ah, here you are, praising him again. “And it’s obvious you care for your sister and wish to give her the world. I suggest organizing a small party for her. This way she could experience what she missed and get familiar enough with me. I can negotiate with Mister Wood, I am sure I can convince him - he has some sort of a soft spot for you, Sunday.”

Surprisingly, it twists something uncomfortable in the halovian’s stomach.

“It sounds… delightful. However, are you certain you’d like to go to such lengths for Robin?”

“Well, she is your sister,” you chose the table farthest from the one your husband has been working at and grab the back of the chair to move it so you could sit, “and I am your wife. I’d love her to believe in us too. If I am not overstepping, of course.”

That’s actually not a bad idea. If almost four months ago someone - even you - suggested he let his sister and future wife meet, he’d be hesitant. He knows his little sister, he knows how perceptive she is - he is not so sure he wouldn’t have cracked under her inquisitive questions about whether he was happy with the arrangement or not. Plus leaving her sad and aching for brother if he let her know of the unjustness of the situation and still chose to proceed with the wedding is just too much for him.

Now he, at least, will not be lying that he is content if being asked.

“I accept your offer and thank you profusely for it,” Sunday slightly bows his head, to which you shake yours, reaching your hand out to beckon him to join you.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll have time to thank me later, once we’ve already done something, alright?”

Surprisingly… It is indeed alright.

[risingoftime]

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

⤷ coriolanus is your mentor, and he fucks you before you’re sent to the games. 18+ mdni.

Coriolanus showed no mercy when fucking you. His pace was fast but thorough, lingering slightly when all of his length was inside for you to take. Your eyes brimmed with tears from pure euphoria. Coriolanus kept one hand around your breasts, playing with your nipple while the other massaged your clit. He whispered dirty things in your ear, loving how your body responded to it. Knowing that it was forbidden for the both of you to meet outside of mentoring hours, nonetheless doing this. The rush of possibly getting caught made him swell inside of you.

“I want you to cry out how much you love my cock.”

When you don’t answer fast enough, he rolls your nipple harder in between his fingers, earning a loud whimper to release from your mouth.

“Aghh, I fucking love it.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “Always such a good girl for me.” Coriolanus buried himself in your cunt, as your walls gripped around his dick. You felt like you were about to go insane; nothing mattered anymore but Coriolanus. How did he make it so easy to forget? Your head fell back onto his chest. “Coryo, oh please, don't stop.” you moaned. You were no longer caring if you got caught. Your legs began to tremble, making it challenging to keep your back arched over the desk. But this didn't falter the momentum.

“Take. Every. Last. Drop.” Coriolanus paused with each word, adding emphasis between thrusts. You follow his lead without hesitation. Throwing your ass back to meet him halfway, fucking him back. You could tell that Coriolanus was close, and you were not too far behind. Now with both hands, Coriolanus held onto your waist, jerking his dick in your pussy sloppier and more demanding than before.

You could feel yourself gushing on his cock. You've never gotten this wet. “Shit— I'm going… going to cum” he gasped out. Coriolanus didn't pull out as he came inside you, grinding himself further as your cunt milked him of everything that he had to give. Your body shuddered, unable to slow the torrent of pleasure that overcame you. The two of you rode out the waves of your orgasm until your bodies became sore. Coriolanus drove himself crazy from the thought of possibly losing this, the power to stroke and fondle your body and hear your cries of ecstasy. But he would leave, just like he always did. Coriolanus left you with one last kiss and three words.

“Do not lose.”

request

[room-surprise]

hi! i was wondering if in dunmeshi, before falin was eaten by the dragon and before present events, laios and his party were earning money for k*lling monsters in the dungeon? i don't understand if someone was paying them, how they were making money and how it worked

I want to write a proper, thorough reply to this with citations to specific references and mentions in the story, but uh, a tree fell on my house so I've been a bit too busy to do that lmao.

BUT, to give an incomplete answer:

Yes, adventurers get paid for work they do inside of the dungeon, or, they just harvest monsters/plants/treasure that they find. The dungeons are a kind of boom town, similar to a gold or silver rush, which means that the entire local economy is based on people trying to extract wealth from the dungeon, since it's dangerous but easy work, anyone can try to do it with very little resources, and the potential for profit is huge.

Someone with almost no money could, potentially, go into the dungeon and walk away with enough money to start a business, or buy a house or a boat. If they don't die. If they're lucky. Desperate people cling to the hope that they will be one of the lucky ones who become insanely wealthy.

Based on things Kui's told us in the manga and the extra materials, we know:

You pay a fee or a toll to be allowed to go into the dungeon. Access is controlled by the local government. Some people avoid this, like Senshi and the orcs since they just live in the dungeon and avoid leaving.

Many people die, give up, or fail to accomplish anything useful in the dungeon. These people probably generate a good, steady income for the island, since they pay fees but don't have to be rewarded. The lure of trying to strike it rich keeps huge hoards of people flowing in steadily. Most money in boom towns is generated by all the people who are trying and failing to get rich buying things from local people (food, supplies, lodging).

When a dungeon first appears, it is full of easy to harvest gold and treasure. "Gold peeling" is how Laios and Falin started out, and it's literally going into the dungeon and peeling gold off of the walls and statues, and taking any easy to transport treasure with you.

Various tasks need to be done in the dungeon to keep it safe, clean and accessible, and all of these result in a person either being paid by the lord of the island, or the person who they have saved. Killing dangerous monsters, finding people who have died and taking their corpses to the resurrection office, reporting changes to the dungeon, discovering new paths, etc.

When gold and treasure that is easy to find starts to run out, people turn primarily to harvesting monsters. They are probably paid a bounty for every monster they can prove they killed (bring back some body part that a monster only has one of, like a tail), and then they can also sell anything else they harvested from the monster in the market (meat, the rest of the hide, horns, teeth, claws.)

You want the dungeon to stay safe with a well-managed monster population to prevent something like Utaya from happening.

But if you kill too many monsters, now that the treasure is gone, there won't be any profit reason for people to go into the dungeon anymore, and your economy will collapse.

So you need to manage the dungeon and keep the monster population high, but not too high. This is what the Shadow Lord was complaining about. He thinks that if they evacuate the dungeon the expensive monsters they are currently harvesting may stop manifesting/spawning/being born, and all that will be left to harvest is mushrooms and slimes, which are not worth a lot of money.

Laios' group had an assignment from the island lord to try and find the giant doors on the 6th floor that nobody had been able to get past. That was what they were trying to do when they ran into the red dragon and Falin got eaten!

Despite everything, at that time Laios' party was the number one team on the island, capable of going the deepest into the dungeon.

Kabru's team is also considered pretty good, despite how often we see them dying - this should tell you how bad many of the teams that go in are! Most of them don't accomplish much or anything... Just like a boom town, where most miners go into debt trying to find gold, and only a few strike it rich.

This is what Rin is talking about in her first appearance, when she scolds Kabru for being too modest around other adventurers. She wants those other people to know that they are not going into the dungeon for profit and that they're not like the rest of them, dream-chasing fools hoping to make a payday.

She's offended anyone would mistake them for people like that, meanwhile Kabru would rather keep their motivations obscure and not advertise that they're in the dungeon on a moral crusade, not a financial one.

It should also be noted that the dungeon has a lot of criminal activity going on inside of it, because it's not well monitored and it's easy to conceal your activities. There's also a population of people who can "no longer live on the surface" for various reasons, such as being wanted criminals, exiles hiding to avoid vigilante justice, people too poor to leave because they wasted all their money trying to get rich and now they can't afford to live on the surface, or leave the island.

Essentially there is a population of homeless people living in the dungeon, eating anything they can scavenge, begging and stealing to stay alive. This could even be part of the taboo on eating monsters in the dungeon - that's something poor and desperate people do, and doing it is seen as a sign of how low Laios' party has fallen.

This is also why Kabru is so worried about the Touden party: their financials are a mess, but they keep going into the dungeon. Why? People think they are good, but maybe they're secretly criminals? Are they on the run from the law? Kabru has no idea, since "they just really love monsters and this is fun" is not a motivation ANYONE ELSE ON EARTH HAS.

The Toudens can't even say "we're monster researchers trying to write a book on monsters." They're just hobbyists, they just like them a lot. Kui tells us that Laios was encouraged to become a monster researcher but the studying was too intense for him.

It would be like finding out someone who works in a coal mine that kills 80% of the miners doesn't actually care about being paid, they just loooove coal and want to be around coal all the time.

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act I, Scene II: The Crude Suggestion)

A provocative joke leads Spencer to contemplate, yet ultimately avoid, a crucial conversation with you.

Part warning: a little suggestive comment and two idiots being stubborn Words: 2.1k A/n: I want to remind you that each part doesn’t necessarily follow one another, the story focuses on their relationship and not on the cases being told. This is just a collection of shenanigans and nothing too serious!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about being in the middle of nowhere for a case. Maybe not exactly nowhere—you knew where you were, you could pinpoint this city on a map, but there wasn’t the same bustle and constant noise you were used to in Quantico. The relative quiet was unsettling, yet oddly comforting.

Although nothing was comforting about checking the crime scene deep in a forest in broad daylight. It was a small, unnaturally circular clearing where the grass was trampled down in places, and in the center was the remains of what you were there to investigate.

“So,” you started, your eyes scanning the place. “Do you think the Unsub uses these remote areas to avoid detection, or is he just a fan of the great—albeit bland—outdoors?”

Spencer glanced at you from the other side of the clearing.

“Statistically speaking, the isolation could serve to minimize the risk of witnesses. However, it’s also plausible that the Unsub finds comfort in solitude. Or maybe he just dislikes traffic.”

“Dislikes traffic,” you repeated, deadpan. “Yes, because serial killers are really just misunderstood commuters.”

Just as Spencer was about to retort with what you assumed would be a wildly thrilling statistic about traffic patterns and criminal behavior, Emily’s voice cut through the tension. “Can’t you two ever not bicker for more than five minutes?”

You turned to her. “I’m just trying to get a straightforward answer. But apparently, that’s too much to ask for.”

“I’m giving you a range of possibilities, which is what profiling is about. Sorry if that’s too complicated for you to understand.”

“Oh, I understand completely,” you replied, matching his tone. “I just find that half of your theories are unnecessary.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “The depth of analysis ensures we don’t overlook anything. It’s thorough, not unnecessary.”

“You call it thorough. I call it overthinking.”

Emily stepped between you, raising a hand. “Alright, enough. Can we focus on the case now?”

“He started it,” you couldn’t resist muttering under your breath as you moved to another part of the clearing.

“Me? You were the one who—”

Emily cut him off with a loud, exasperated sigh, tilting her head back as if seeking divine intervention, before turning her gaze sharply back to both of you.

“Most people go to therapy to deal with this much-unresolved tension,” she remarked dryly. Then, fixing you with a pointed look, she added, “You know what else might help?”

You frowned, glancing towards her. “What?”

Emily paused dramatically, her gaze shifting from you to Spencer and back again at you, lingering a little too long. She didn’t say anything, but the way she raised her brows and the smirk playing on her lips, you knew what she was implying. It was as if there was an unspoken code that only years of friendship between women could understand.

You looked away, a slight burn along our cheeks.

Spencer, still oblivious, looked from Emily to you, confusion written all over his face. "What? What are you talking about?”

“Well—”

“No!” You stopped her. “Don’t listen to her.”

Spencer’s confusion deepened, his gaze shifting from you to Emily, trying to decipher the underlying message. Emily’s smirk only widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort she’d stirred up.

“You should ask Y/N,” she said, her tone teasing. “I’m sure she knows some great ideas for... tension relief.”

You felt your face heat up even more, and you shot Emily a warning look, partly annoyed and partly embarrassed by her insinuation. But she simply just laughed, and when a sudden car pulled up near them, Emily found a way to escape.

“Oh, look, the sheriff is here,” she said, swiftly changing the subject. “You guys check the area while I talk to him.”

Emily walked off to meet the sheriff, leaving you and Spencer alone in awkward silence. You turned away, eager to divert your attention back to work when you felt him hang back slightly to walk with you.

He seemed to hesitate before speaking. “What was she referring to?”

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction, wondering if he was genuinely confused or just looking for a way to keep the conversation light.

"Nothing," you replied with a dismissive shrug, keeping your eyes on the ground ahead. “She was joking.”

“I could tell, but what about?”

You paused, realizing that the vague explanations weren't going to satisfy him this time. His analytical mind was both a blessing and a curse in moments like these.

"She was suggesting—jokingly—that we might relieve our constant bickering... through more unconventional methods."

"Unconventional methods?"

“Sex, Reid. She was implying sex.”

His face instantly turned a shade of red, perhaps deeper than you had ever seen before. He blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of your clarification.

"Oh," he managed to stutter out, the usual fluency of his speech faltering under the weight of the topic. He bit his bottom lip, a nervous habit that you had come to recognize as his attempt to buy time while he gathered his thoughts. 

“That’s…”

“Crazy, right?” You pressed on. “I mean, nothing good will come out if we start blurring pleasure and professional lines like that.”

There, you said it, an underlining of your words that carried more weight than the immediate conversation. You wondered if he understood your double meaning, and maybe he did, because his gaze met yours sharply.

He exhaled, his demeanor shifting as he processed not just Emily's joke but also the deeper reference to that night—the one neither of you spoke about but still lingered between you.

“Right,” he finally responded, his voice firm, yet there was a hint of something else you couldn’t quite decipher. “Nothing good at all.”

“It would only complicate things.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“The worst.”

For a moment, you both stood there, the forest around you fading into the background. You broke the silence first, turning away from him. "We should finish up here. There's still a lot of ground to cover."

With those words, you moved ahead, feeling his gaze on your back. The crunch of leaves under his steps echoed as he followed in silence.

It would only complicate things… as if it wasn’t already complicated in the first place.

Spencer looked over to where you stood; it was clear you were trying to avoid him for the past hour. He watched as you meticulously examined every leaf and twig, your focus seeming more like an escape than an investigation.

He knew he should say something, perhaps bridge the gap with an apology or an olive branch of some sort, but every potential word seemed to catch in his throat. It seemed like a constant cycle of hesitation and missed opportunities. Every time he thought to speak, doubt would claw its way back, holding him silent. 

He wondered if perhaps it was the same for you.

“Hey,” Emily’s voice filled the silence as she joined back. “Did you find anything?”

Spencer’s train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Emily’s arrival. He straightened up, quickly shifting his focus back to the present. He gestured towards the markings on the ground that you both had been examining.

“We might have found something.” 

Emily crouched beside you, eyes scanning the evidence with practiced ease. “You think this is from our Unsub?”

You nodded, offering the specifics, “The pattern and depth suggest it’s not natural. And the spacing might give us an idea about the size and weight of the Unsub.”

“I’ll get the forensics team to take a closer look.” She stood up, looking between you and Spencer. “You two okay here?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Spencer answered quickly, a bit too eagerly. You simply nodded without saying a word.

“Alright, maybe I like it better when you both bicker.”

He saw you shrug nonchalantly. “I’m gonna check the other side,” you announced before walking away.

"She's avoiding me," he stated, a note of helplessness threading through his voice.

“Can you blame her?”

“What?” He asked, his voice tinged with defensiveness. “So it's my fault?”

“Well… did you do anything wrong?”

There was a pause before he glanced away, his mind racing through that night. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice low, almost reluctant. 

"There you go, you have your answer.” 

He shifted from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable, as his fingers twitched at his sides. “Do you think we’re overreacting?”

She sighed. “Look, I don't know the details of what happened, and as much as I want to help, it’s between you two. The way I see it, you have two options: either resolve the problem or continue bickering.”

He frowned, mulling over her words. He glanced toward you and faltered for a moment, noticing the glare you were throwing him even from the other side of the clearing. It was clear you didn’t want to engage in any type of conversation with him.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to stick with bickering.”

Emily laughed. “Really? You don’t want to consider my suggestion earlier?” When she caught the blush creeping on his cheeks, her grin widened. “Finally caught on what I meant?”

His blush deepened, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Oh, yeah, well, that's definitely not an appropriate solution," he stammered, trying to regain his composure. Collecting himself, he latched onto a more comfortable territory—facts. 

"Actually, according to a study, about 20% of workplace relationships lead to marriage, but they can also significantly complicate professional dynamics, increasing the potential for conflicts of interest.”

Emily simply smiled, clearly amused at how flustered he was. Her silence only urged him to continue.

"And, well, that doesn't even begin to cover the fallout if things don't work out. The workplace can become, um, a challenging environment for both parties involved. It's just... it's tricky."

Spencer winced to himself, because ironically, the fallout was already happening. The situation he was theorizing about in vague terms was unfolding right in front of him.

"It sounds like you're speaking from experience.”

“I’m not!” He responded almost too fast. “I’m not.”

She studied him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed his reaction. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the ground. The quick denial had been too sharp, too reflexive, and now he felt cornered by his own reactions.

“I’m not,” he insisted again. “I just... I mean, I've read a lot about it. You know, studies, research papers, it's nothing personal."

Emily nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but choosing not to push further. "If you say so.”

Her eyes lingered on him for a while, and when she realized the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, she turned around and left him.

“Where are you going?”

“Comforting her,” she called out, walking backward. “Something you should’ve done.”

He watched Emily walk away, her words stinging more than he wanted to admit. Then his eyes traveled to you, and it was as if you could sense his lingering stare, you looked up and met his gaze.

Anger. Annoyance. It was what he caught in your eyes before you quickly masked it with a neutral expression. The intensity of that brief exchange was enough to make him realize just how deep the rift between you had gone.

Spencer knew talking about it was the mature thing to do, but he also feared that bringing up that conversation might only open another can of worms. He felt stuck, unsure if addressing the issue would heal or harm. So he went back to being a coward and turned in the opposite direction.

It was for the better. You didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

[gojoest]

i’d die a thousand times for you ┊ hurt/comfort, suggestive, MDNI, gn! reader, established relationship, pet names (pretty, love), lovely banter, v brief somno mention if you squint, this blurb was provoked by ch261 (no spoilers though), not proofread we die like this, wc: 1.1k

you watched satoru carefully.

searing every feature on his precious face deep into your consciousness while he was soundly sleeping next to you — the way his nostrils flared with each breath he took and the way his eyelids slightly fluttered in slumber, cheek squished against the pillow leaving his mouth agape and drooling from the corner of it.

you thought you’d never get to see him like this ever again, not after what you witnessed with your own eyes in shinjuku.

—you shut your eyes close, tightly. shaking your head, desperately trying to dispel that sight from your memories like your life depended on it. it always reached you in your nightmares but you’d never let it catch you when awake. not when he was here.

when he came back to you, for the first time in your life, you considered it possible — that there might really be god, because his return was no miracle. it was god having mercy on you for he would never give one more than they could handle.

you trailed your fingers along his forehead — tenderly brushing back his hair that felt fluffier than ever between your fingers — before sliding them down his temple to his cheek and then to his cutely parted lips that planted a soft kiss on your fingertip.

“morning, pretty”, satoru spoke with a sleepy timbre, eyes remaining close.

“morning, handsome”, you greeted him back. “did i wake you up?”

“no, been awake for a while”, he smiled, “can’t miss my favorite part of the morning — having you be the creep and stare at me while you think i’m asleep. makes my chest swell with joy”, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you, his smile growing bigger.

“can’t have you be the creep all the time, that’d be unfair”, you teased, shifting into a sitting position with your back against the headboard of the bed.

he rolled closer and laid his head on your lap, taking your hand into his and pecking it sweetly then putting it on his chest, right on top of his heart, while keeping his over yours. “so we’re basically switching roles?”

“that’s right”, you gave a nod. “we are”

“then there’s a lot more you need to do, i’m afraid”

“walk me through it then, please”

“alright”, he cleared his throat. “first”, he shifted your hand from his chest to the top of his head, “you need to pat me and slowly run your fingers through my hair”, his hand carefully guiding yours. “then you need to lean down a little bit and kiss the tip of my nose”

after you did as he instructed, it took him a hot minute to wipe the silly grin off his face but eventually he continued, “and now you have to caress my cheek and think very hard about how you might just die from happiness because i look ridiculously cute and you love me so very much. after you’re done thinking, you have to whisper it into my ear. you have to be very thorough with your confession, by the way — the required word count is minimum 1k”

“now you’re just making fun of me”, you softly flicked his forehead with your free hand, “no way you’re doing this to me every morning”

“i do even more than this but i don’t want to freak you out, so i’m just easing you into the basic stuff”

“more than this?”

“well of course”

“what is it?”

“can’t tell”

“come on”, you insisted.

“try to guess”, he lifted an eyebrow with a challenging look.

“okay. give me a hint and i will”

“something a freak would do”

“oh……”, a gasp left your lips at the realization, “don’t tell me you…”, gasping again you covered your mouth with your hand.

“oh, yeah”, he shook his head affirmatively.

no words were needed, a quick glance at his idiotic grin was enough to provide you with the answer. it was written all over his face — satoru would often jerk off to you while you were sleeping.

“by the way — if you’re up to fulfilling this part of the creep role, i am definitely watching. heheh”

you laughed, “that’d be off-script though — you’re supposed to be asleep while i do that or it beats the purpose”

“i can pretend to be sleeping, don’t you worry”, he adeptly assured you.

“it wouldn’t be very creep of me if you’re not in deep slumber, so — no”

his lips curved down into a pout. “fine”, he mumbled. “at least do the last part — tell me you love me”

leaning down slowly, your lips charged towards his for a short peck before you whispered into his mouth, “i love you, stinky”

“i love you too, pretty”, he reached for the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss. “now — say it again, but louder”

and you did. you said it again and again and again, in between every kiss, until your eyes welled up and it got harder to speak while holding back the tears.

you leaned back and covered your face with both of your hands. “i’m sorry”, you muffled.

“hey, love”, he sat up and pulled you into his arms. “shhh, come here”

he knew exactly what crossed your mind right now for the same thought occupied his as well — just as much as he was grateful to be here, to be as lucky to have this morning banter with you — so were you. in fact, he was more than lucky, perhaps even god’s favorite child, to make it back to you. thinking about the possibility of leaving you behind, alone in this bed, in this house, in this life — made his heart ache, because he was on thin ice back in shinjuku. the pain and loneliness he would’ve caused you would be a one-way ticket for him to hell — and he wasn’t having it. before you, he didn’t really care whether he’d go to hell or heaven. but now, heaven is a must. because you were an angel, and that was the only place he could meet you again if the worst were to ever happen.

“i am here”, he whispered. “i am here”, his repeated a few times until his voice started cracking and he just held you in silence.

“you better”, you pulled away from his embrace and straddled yourself on his lap. cupping his cheeks in your hands, you nuzzled your nose against his and breathed in his scent. “if you die again, i swear i will kill you”

“but if you’ll hold me like this every day, i don’t mind dying a thousand times”

“don’t ever joke about this, you idiot”

“but i am not joking. i mean it — i’d pay any price as long as i get to be with you like this”

[preqwells]

cw: 18+, afab, fingering, p in v, read part 1 of mechanic konig here

mechanic! konig would definitely become clingy after what you thought was your one-night stand.

staying true to his word, your new lovely mechanic named könig followed through with teaching you the basics of a car. how to check the dipstick that was in your oil tank so you'd know when you needed an oil change, checking the tire pressure so you didn't find yourself in a situation you didn't want to end up in-- he was thorough, diligent-- he found himself caring more than usual as he explained these things to you. "so, when it gets to this mark?" you softly inquired, pressing your fingernail to the mark you assumed he had pointed to. "no, maus-- here. if you base it off where you just pointed, well… good luck." he mumbled, a tinge of amusement in his tone. he kept his thick digit on the dipstick, slick oil making his index finger glisten under the sun. you attempted to train your brain to think of anything but what it wanted to think, honestly. you let out another sheepish chuckle, nodding obediently at any pointers he was kind enough to give you.

call it luck or fate, but könig didn't have the serpentine belt you so desperately needed to have installed in your car to get to work tomorrow. könig felt a hint of excitement-- this meant you needed a ride home, right? könig was kind enough to offer you a ride… well, an actual ride which you vehemently refused at first. you had never been one to ask favors of others, certainly not a stranger you just met even if your conscience screamed at you to do otherwise. "i can't-- i can't cover any additional costs…" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes fell to the ground out of embarrassment. your helplessness was cute-- the pout that tugged at the fullness of your lips, your shy demeanor-- how had he gone so long without seeing such a sweetheart around town? "nein, it won't cut into what you already owe me. it'll be cheaper taking a ride from me than getting an uber, anyways." he insisted, catching onto the way you previously mentioned cutting back on expenses. you couldn't argue with him-- or more like, you didn't want to.

during the car ride home, könig would sneak glances at you-- whether it be at red lights or when he turned the corner. he couldn't help the way his eyes would roam your figure, and you even caught glimpses of his lingering gaze. you weren't stupid, and neither was he-- the tension was palpable, almost tangible. he guided you to your door, his hand splayed across the small of your back, thick digits bracing you. "um… well, thanks-- for everything." you quickly got out, wanting the interaction to be over so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself. everything felt so intimate-- the way he touched you, stole glances at you-- it felt out of character for you since you had only known him maybe for half the day. könig remained quiet for a moment, drinking in every reaction you had. your head tilted upward, looking up at him through your lashes as he kept your gaze. the atmosphere suddenly felt thick, intense. "no problem. couldn't let you go home without knowing you were safe." his voice dropped an octave, his head dipping lower to insert himself in your personal bubble. your breath hitched as you nodded, opening the door as his forearms leaned against the doorframe, the heavy tools on his belt exposing a sliver of skin along with a tuft of hair right above his groin.

"well… i'm safe." "are you?" "mhm." "how're you gonna get back to my shop tomorrow?"

your brain short-circuited at the heady mix of the bluntness of his words and his stature, your mouth slightly agape. he let out a low chuckle before his index finger found the belt loop of your pants, pulling you into his space. you mumbled out a weak 'i dunno'-- that answer wasn't good enough for him. "… i could stay the night… won't cut into what you already owe me, maus." he reiterated his earlier point, the boldness of his words coated in mirth. his face was brought closer to your own, his black lashes hanging low over his eyes. your hands found purchase on his biceps before his lips brushed against yours, putting a silence to any lingering tension from earlier as your eyes fluttered closed. he put every ounce of being into the kiss-- hell, he wished you could've broken your serpentine belt earlier if it meant a pretty thing like you could've stepped into his shop sooner than you did. he backed you into your apartment, his hand closing the door hurriedly. "fuck-- you just had to walk into my shop, didn't you?" he gruffed out between kisses, annoyed at the feeling of how quickly he already found himself half-hard.

you parted your lips to squeak out a half-hearted apology before könig used this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, coaxing a sweet moan from you which elicited a wicked grin from könig. könig led you into your bedroom, gently placing you at the head of the bed as his teeth nipped at every area of skin he could think of-- your neck, your collarbone, underneath your breast when he managed to get your shirt off. the whines and whimpers that escaped you only urged him to continue, didn't you know? stupid of you, really-- to think you weren't going to end the night with his fingers readying you to split you open on his heavy cock. his head lolled back when he did eventually find his length rubbing snugly against the slickness of your walls, your eyes blinking away tears from the initial stretch. he quickly caught wind of this as he halted his movements, arching down as his lips pressed against your cheek.

"s'okay, maus-- know i'm kind of a fit, eh? just tell me when it's okay to move." he cooed to which you quickly nodded, exhaling a sigh you didn't know you were holding. as you signaled for him to start moving, his thrusts were almost borderline calculated, precise-- you didn't seem to be complaining about it from the string of moans you were letting out, anyway. it didn't take long for his thrusts to grow sloppy, a mix of your wetness and the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. the way you keened, your brows knitted so closely together from pleasure, your lips swollen and red from the earlier make-out session-- yeah, this is where könig needed to be; buried deep into your drooling pussy.

the night came to an end as did your time with könig-- hell, you could barely remember falling asleep. you went to sleep with the thought that you'd wake up to an empty bed, trying to conjure ways for it not to be so awkward when you did eventually go to pick up a car. you'd never really had a one-night stand before-- how do you even face someone who was practically balls-deep in you the night before? what you didn't expect when morning came was the soft kisses that rained upon your cheek, waking you out of a well-deserved sleep. your eyes slowly opened, scanning the room and taking in the sight of yourself under the covers. you were… clean? no traces of stickiness between your legs, no sweat sticking to your skin. your head turned to the side to be greeted with the sight of könig with bed-head, his hair twisted in every way imaginable. your eyebrows furrowed together out of confusion-- you were fully expecting him to leave. könig caught on quickly to your confusion, his elbow propped up on the mattress as his palm rested on the side of his cheek. he returned your look of confusion as if daring you to say something.

"what? we have to go pick up your car today, don't we?"

[14dayswithyou]

This Angel has another question! \o

What's it like taking a bath with RENACTED?

✦゜ANSWERED: Hell on earth T_T he takes up soooo much room and won't give you a moment to yourself dshjgjds /silly

cw: It gets NSFW towards the end!! MDNI!

"Think we need more bubbles?"

When you're met with nothing but silence, you look up from your bubble sculpture to see your partner sporting an all too familiar pout on their face. His tattooed arms were crossed over his bare chest like he wanted to prove a point — and as if to fully emphasize their current disdain; Ren turns his head away the moment you make eye contact.

You couldn't help but let out a puff of laughter at the silliness of it all.

"Why are you pouting?" You nudge their leg with your own. "What's wrong?"

"...Why are you all th'way over there?"

'Over there', being on the opposite side of the tub from your beloved boyfriend. Which... didn't make much sense now that you thought about it, seeing as he was the one who (silently) volunteered to take the side with the faucet and drain, which left you with all the space and legroom your heart could desire. Though... it wasn't much, given how massive of a mountain your partner was. Ren was all long, lanky limbs and thick muscle; but it wasn't exactly evident with all the baggy clothing they often chose to wear.

In an attempt to make your beloved hacker feel better about the (albeit childish) situation, you carefully scoot over so that you were resting against one of their legs instead of the tub. But apparently, Ren still wanted more, as a familiar tattooed arm emerges from the water the moment you draw closer and silently beckons you to join him at his side. When you accept — in what world would you ever say no to him and that trademark frown? — Ren pulls you flush against his chest with a content sigh.

They were acting like the cat who got the cream, no doubt.

You barely have a moment to adjust to your new position before you feel Ren's arms wrap around your waist, and his chin finds its place atop your shoulder. Now, your hacker has the perfect view of you rebuilding your bubble castle once more — only this time, you were right where he wanted you.

"There." Your tone is laced with something mirthful and lively as you lean into his embrace. "Is this better?

"Much."

"Just make sure you don't fall asleep. Elanor told me that it's not safe to do that." You purposefully ignore how their arms tense up at the mention of your coworker. However, you don't miss how they dip further under the water to run along the inside of your thighs instead.

Ren's real name slips from your lips in warning. You knew exactly what he was trying to do right now. Their hands were ghosting dangerously close to your—

"...'M not doing anything."

"Liar, I can feel you— Ah!"

His fingers casually brush past your most sensitive part, and it has you flinging your head back and clutching onto his forearm. From that reaction alone, you can hear Ren let out a curious hum from behind as their hand moves back to your sex once more.

"Just making sure you're all nice 'n clean down there."

"I-I somehow doubt that..."

"Isn't that the point of baths? T'get clean?" He muses, voice ghosting along the shell of your ear. "...Why were you talking to your coworker about taking baths in the first place, anyway?"

One of the rubber frogs you added ('for ambience!' you recall telling your boyfriend) innocently floats past, and you had half a mind to reach out and turn its gaze away from the intimate scene. Ren still had one hand firmly placed around your stomach to keep you steady while the other was shamelessly running up and down your—

"...Think I'm gonna need to do a thorough inspection. Bend over the tub f'me?"

[navybrat817]

Smartie: would you love me even if I were a gecko?

Stud: I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko and this would be us: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMVoXtHD/

BAHAHA. Nonnie, I burst out laughing watching this and reading the comments.

Like Animals

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You ask Bucky an "important" question and he gives you a thorough answer. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Humor, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, inner monologue, TikTok video, pet names, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Apologies to geckos. A/N: Some Stud and Smartie for your Tuesday. Had to do it, @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A smile pulled at your lips when you saw Bucky relaxed in his chair, engrossed in his newest book. Soot and Alpine cuddled up together nearby, both letting your man have some peace as he read. Naturally, it was the perfect time to interrupt him. Because you had a very important question for him.

One that would shape the future of your relationship.

He’ll understand why I bothered him.

“Hey, Stud?” You asked as you took a seat on the sofa, his steel eyes peering up from the pages to gaze at you. Your heart would always skip a beat from that look. “I have something very important to ask you.”

He put his bookmark in to give you his undivided attention. “What’s up? Is it about the wedding?”

“No,” you smiled. You were aware that some men didn’t care about wedding planning, but Bucky was. He wanted it to be the perfect day for you. “But the question is kind of related to love and our relationship.”

His brows furrowed when you didn’t elaborate. “Okay. What’s the question?”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Would you still love me if I turned into an animal?”

Bucky blinked once. Twice. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile or laugh. “An animal? What kind of animal?”

You huffed when he didn’t immediately say “yes”. That should’ve been his answer. “I don’t know! A gecko! Yeah. A gecko.”

I have to keep a straight face.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but he still tried to remain as stoic as he could. “A gecko? Why a gecko?”

“Because geckos are cool!” You replied, close to bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the questioning and logic. But wasn’t part of the fun of having a partner being able to discuss stuff like this? “They can climb walls, can live a long time, they make great pets-”

“You wanna be my pet, Smartie?” Bucky asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Yes.

“You’re…” you sighed when he ran his tongue along his lips. He was a sexy bastard and you would soon call him your husband. “You’re distracting me. Answer the question, please.”

“So, that’s a yes,” he smirked, pushing his hair back and causing you to stare a bit again. “You’re asking me if you were a gecko, would I still love you?”

“Yes,” you said, rolling your eyes to try and play it off as something silly. Which it was. “Would you love me even if I were a gecko?”

Bucky set the book on the table before he moved from his chair to the couch. Your heart raced when he took your left hand and kissed over your engagement ring. “Smartie. Doll. Baby. Love of my life, of course, I would,” he said, your cheeks warm when he smiled at you. “In fact, I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko so we could be together properly.”

Right answer, Stud.

“You would?”

“I would,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t want to exist in a world where we can’t be together.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I don’t either,” you whispered, your heart full. “And no matter what, human, gecko, anything, I’m your Smartie and you’re my Stud.”

You knew if tomorrow you woke up as some different version of you, he’d love you. If someone tried to separate you, he’d find a way to get you back. He was your soulmate. You had the whole world because of him.

“Damn right,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away. “Besides, if I ever found that Witcher, this would be us.”

…What?

“What would be us? I’m confused,” you said as he took out his phone and pulled up a video, cuddling close to you could both see the screen. “What is this?”

Bucky gently shushed you as he turned up the volume. “Just watch.”

You tilted your head as a rock came into view. “What are you showing me?” You questioned before your eyes went wide. Bucky’s arm over shoulders shook as he started chuckling. “Are those geckos fucking?!”

The decibel of your voice made the cats raise their heads, but they didn’t move since you weren’t in any sort of danger. “Yeah, they are,” your fiancé laughed. “Geckos in their semi-natural habitat.”

This wasn’t on my BINGO card for the year.

“Why do you have this?!” You asked, turning to look at him. “Wait, when did you start using TikTok?! Is this on your FYP? Is this a new kink you haven’t told me about? Because that’s a whole other conversation.”

He threw his head back and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re missing it.”

“Yeah, because gecko porn was the thing I was missing in my life. Everything makes sense now,” you teased, gesturing to the screen. “And, by the way, that’ll never be us.”

Bucky’s laughter came up short and, for a moment, sadness flickered in his eyes. “I thought you said we’d be together if we were geckos.”

“We would be,” you assured him, seeing happiness all over his face once again. “But look. He’s doing all the work and she looks bored as hell. That’s not me and that’s not our sex life.”

“So, I fuck you better?” He teased you.

Duh.

Whatever kind of sex you had before you met Bucky didn’t even count to you. He ruined you so thoroughly that you didn’t even remember the first guy you kissed. It was as if he erased all other guys from your mind.

Love was a powerful thing and Bucky had it in abundance.

“Yes, so much better. I mean, come on, she looks like she’s thinking, ‘Did I leave the stove on?’”

The brunette burst out laughing all over again.

I love that sound.

“Seriously! I would never just be still like that and you know it. There’s a difference between being a pillow princess and a dead fish,” You smiled, cuddling closer so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your hand. “And just for making me look at that, I want you to try and keep a straight face the next time we have sex.”

“What? That’s not fair,” he groaned, making you shriek when he suddenly laid you out on the sofa, his phone forgotten. “I can’t keep a straight face when I’m inside you. Your pussy feels too good for that.”

He always looks gorgeous when he slides into me.

“So does your cock. I don’t think I could look bored if I tried,” you agreed, raising an eyebrow when he moved on top of you. “But seriously, how is it that you just happened to have that video when I asked about us being geckos? You didn’t know I was going to ask you that.”

He grasped your chin to give you a thorough kiss, the kind that drove every sane thought from your mind. “I guess the two of us are just in sync,” he said.

“I guess we are,” you smiled. “But no more gecko porn today, okay?”

“Okay,” he smirked down at you. “But I will fuck you like an animal.”

True to his word, that was exactly what he did.

Oh, I adore them. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[xvysarene]

𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You left me to drown.” Words: ~2.2k Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, Suggestive (mild)

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

The sky was awash with streaks of crimson and gold bleeding into the indigo expanse, signaling the impending dusk.

You stopped beside the colossal sea stack, admiring the breathtaking view. Waves crashed against the weathered rocks with gentle tranquility, a stark contrast to the turmoil within your heart.

“Are you done running?” a whispered voice carried away by the salty breeze.

Voice that you hadn’t heard for almost a year.

You couldn’t help the wry chuckle escaping your lips. “Last time I remember, I was the one waking up to an empty bed after a night of giving myself to you.”

Your skin involuntarily tingled with the residual sensation of his touch. His lips, warm and insistent, had traced a map of pleasure across your skin, exploring every curve and contour with a thoroughness that left you breathless and wanting more.

Months-long restrained emotion bubbled up to the surface. “Thomas couldn't find you, your aunt couldn't find you, even your bodyguard couldn't find you. So pray tell Rafayel, are you done running?”

Even in the fading light, you could see him taken aback by the hostility dripping from your words.

“I thought you would be happy to see me after all of this time.”

Exasperatedly you turned towards him, finding him standing several steps away from you.

He looked the same, if not even more handsome, and you hated that it made the fury inside your heart momentarily dim.

All-white button-up and trousers hugged his figure, one he knew that you loved as if it was a tactic to unravel you. He was a blank canvas in the explosion of colours surrounding you both.

“No notes, no messages, all I'm left with is a ridiculously priced ring adorning my finger.” You rubbed the now empty ring finger, still feeling the phantom weight of the gemstone.

He didn’t miss the gesture. “Did you not like the ring? Is that why you threw it away to the depth of the sea?”

“Is that all you can say after walking out of my life?” Your voice rising, annoyed at his nonchalance.

Annoyed at the absurdity of this situation like you hadn’t seen each other for months.

His brows furrowed at the accusation. “I did not walk out of your life, didn’t you receive the stuff I sent you?” 

If he was referring to the plethora of stuff stacked inside a box under your bed collecting dust, then yes you did receive them.

You had attempted to decipher the meaning behind the items he sent each month, desperately trying to connect them with his whereabouts, but to no avail.

Even with the resources and connections Thomas had, Rafayel seemed to be always one step ahead, not leaving any breadcrumbs of where he might have gone next.

“You are present in all of my paintings; you remain a constant in my thoughts,” he continued when you remained silent.

Since his departure, new paintings arrived biweekly or monthly at Mo Art Studio, each delivery serving as a soothing balm for Thomas's weary soul.

It wasn't until his manager pointed out certain colour choices and what you had always considered random lines and patterns that you began to notice elements of yourself in his paintings; the shade of your irises, the main lines on your palms, the arch of your eyebrows watching his antics.

You gritted your teeth. “Provide a reasonable explanation for your lack of verbal communication.”

He tore away from your gaze, suddenly looking timid, hand rubbing the back of his neck. It was a habit of his whenever he felt nervous. “I embark on a self-discovery,” he began.

“I needed some time for internal reflection. It allows me to really dive deep into my thoughts and emotions without any external distractions—just let me explain first,” he said rapidly before you could chide him on thinking that you were a distraction.

Honestly, you couldn’t even voice out any response as that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“I've been overly reliant on you, and limiting our communication forced me to depend on my own. I want to be someone you can rely on instead; someone you can lean and depend on.”

“What about that woman, then?” you blurted out, the question heavy on the tip of your tongue ever since you had first come across the article.

It had been seven months and two weeks since his absence when you stumbled upon the article.

Normally, you weren't particularly tuned into the fashion industry, but somehow the news from Nexusburg had found its way onto your daily curated feed.

You had vaguely recognised the designer’s striking face and figure. Your attention, however, zoomed in on those unmistakable tendrils of dusky purple hair, despite most of his head being obscured by the dark tint of the limousine’s window.

“I commissioned her to create… something of great significance.” You sensed ambiguity lacing his words. “You know how reporters constantly fabricate stories that lack truth.”

“Do they, really? Lack of truth?”

Rafayel approached you with hesitant steps, fearing you might slip away from his advance.

“You left me to drown, Rafayel.” The words pierced through him like shards of glass. “Drowning in ‘what if’s’, drowning in my insecurity.” 

As he drew near, he took in the multitude of emotions playing across your face: hurt, confusion, anger.

“You were gone for eight months. Eight months! Did you believe that merely slipping a ring onto my finger would make me feel better for your absence?”

The anger drained your body of energy as you sank onto the rock behind. Jagged edges kept you painfully aware that this was reality, not a mere figment of your imagination.

“I'm sorry,” he pleaded. 

“You're selfish, Rafayel,” your voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You know my insecurity gets the best of me at times, and yet you didn't even stop to think for once on how I would feel…this is not the first time.”

You could see the moment realisation began to flicker in his bluish-pink eyes.

When Rafayel hired a new female bodyguard and began spending a significant amount of time with her, it left you feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t until his own bodyguard confronted him in front of you, chastising him for neglecting your feelings and the lack of communication as she noticed your distress, that you finally felt at ease with their relationship. You understood their brother-sister dynamics.

But this time, days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months since you last saw him. Doubts began to plague your mind.

“It was nothing like that,” he protested. “Nexusburg was my last stop. I had thought of returning as soon as the designer finished her work.”

The article's prominently highlighted phrase 'SECRET ROMANCE' had stirred your restless heart to its breaking point that day.

You recalled standing atop the very sea stack towering behind you, witnessing the light glinting off the ring as you cast it into the unforgiving waves below.

"You went on a journey of self-discovery, but it seems like you've forgotten why you needed it in the first place.” 

Rafayel's heart constricted with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel that way, I—I thought you would understand.”

Then, he retrieved something from his pocket, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“How…?!”

The marquise-cut lilac tanzanite glimmered with a captivating hue, casting a hypnotic light against the backdrop of twilight skies. Delicate accents of soft pink pearls surrounded the gemstone, lending a gentle touch to the intricate design.

It still managed to steal your breath away, its beauty as enchanting as ever.

“I specifically requested the bijoutier to blend my crushed scales into the band. It brings me comfort knowing that you’re safe, and knowing that you think of me whenever you touch it.”

He traced his finger along the smooth surface of the gemstone, the memory of him quietly placing the ring while you slept was as clear as yesterday in his mind.

The outline of your figure etched against the soft glow of dawn. Vivid shade of pinkish-red blemishes against your skin, evidence of the intense night shared between the two of you.

“It motivates me to finish my journey, so I can return to your embrace as soon as possible… Until you threw it away and I thought of the worst.”

You gazed at him in disbelief as he unveiled that the ring held far greater significance than you had ever imagined.

Who would have thought that he could charm the ring that way? Everything slowly made sense why he had immediately called you repeatedly moments after you threw the ring.

Then there was Aunt Talia rushing towards you, tousled and wide-eyed, far from her normally immaculate appearance as you made your way back down.

Barefooted, as if she had rushed out of her nearby house in a hurry.

He returned just two days after you had discarded the ring. When calls were left unanswered, he enlisted Thomas and his bodyguard.

You had threatened to call the police on Thomas when he couldn’t stop appearing in front of your front door. His bodyguard, the only one with a working mind it seemed, nodded in understanding and promptly ushered Thomas away from your doorstep.

“The ring reminds me of you,” longing laced your voice.

As you glanced down at the beauty, the sparkling gemstone and pearls seemed to reflect his hair and eye colour. Its elaborate design mirrored his complexity; intricate and beautiful yet multifaceted.

“And here I thought that you didn’t like the pearls I handpicked… I knew that it was too good to be true when the oysters were being friendlier than usual.” 

Pale skin crimsoned as he snapped his mouth shut. His flow of thoughts always seemed to have a mind of their own, escaping from his mouth before he could rein them in.

It was frustrating how you still found it endearing, even at times like this. Perhaps the lover you knew hadn’t changed much after all.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, “Rafayel, you can't just waltz into my life again as if nothing happened.”

“I know I messed up, Y/N,” he admitted, his eyes pleading for understanding. “But I couldn’t stand away any longer.”

Despite your anger towards his actions, you couldn't deny how much you had missed him too.

He inched closer, giving you plenty of time to move away, however, you remained rooted to the spot.

Familiar strands of dusky purple hair, the very ones you had passionately tangled your fingers in as he ravished you the last time, just within arm's reach now.

A hand reached out, moving away your salty-breeze ruffled hair from covering your face.

“Why did you choose to see me again at last?”

Aunt Talia had invited you for a high tea, weeks after Rafayel's persistent attempts to see you finally ceased. Deep down, you knew that this was another attempt made by him. 

But you remembered how the older woman had opened her doors whenever the insecurity became too strong during his absence, and it felt disrespectful to sever ties just because you weren't ready to face her nephew.

“Rafayel is coming,” Aunt Talia calmly said moments earlier.

The clink of her cup meeting the saucer caused you to jerk, tea sloshing around your rose-adorned cup dangerously.

“You’re free to leave anytime, I’m not going to force you to meet him.”

Looking up, you found orchid-coloured eyes boring into yours.

“Just keep in mind that he will never stop searching for you. Yes, he’s selfish, but you know how us, Lemurians, are,” she sighed then, “ We're relentless when it comes to protecting what we cherish. And you, my dear, hold a special place in his heart.”

“I needed to understand why you did what you did, why you left without a word,” you finally admitted.

Regret flickered his eyes. “I should have been more considerate.” 

As his long fingers traced the curve of your jaw, your breath hitched. It had been too long since you felt his caress against your skin, and you found yourself longing for more.

Laboured breaths and dilated pupils told you that his body had reacted similarly. Finding the mutual desire in your eyes, he closed the gap between you without any word.

Lips collided in a fervent kiss. Fueled by a mix of pent-up pain and yearning. Each brush of his lips against yours was a plea for forgiveness, a desperate attempt to mend the fractures in your relationship.

Bodies molded together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle long overdue for completion. There was an insatiable hunger for each other that needed to be satisfied.

“I will wait for you, whenever you're ready to accept me again in your life,” he murmured gently as his lips parted from yours.

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in those bright orbs you loved so much, and felt a tug at your heart. Silently, he took your hand and slid the ring back onto your finger, to its rightful place.

The same lips that you had just kissed earlier were now on top of the lilac gemstone.

“Keep this so I know that you’re safe, and whenever you’re ready—” Artist's palms cradled your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle, witnessing your beauty wearing the veil I've designed just for you."

As the light faded on the horizon, you realised that perhaps this love was worth fighting for, even if it meant navigating through the perilous waters of forgiveness and redemption.