#mr beet

[mr-beet]

"Is this thing on? Hello? Yeah, so I'm irate, I'm straight, get used to it. Don't get all cutesy with me about your girly feelings shit. There's only one person I'll humor being cutesy with me and you probably aren't her. Now excuse me, I have a game of football to watch. Go um..." He checked his phone discreetly, muttering something under his breath ."Packers? Sure. Go Packers."

[mikesbasementbeets]

happy bi visibility day to mike wheeler!!!!! despite being a full kinsey 7 gay homosexual, you tried so hard to like girls too and i see you. a true bi ally

[alltheghostiesart]

Covers for my fic series, Learning to Live With Ourselves, which is a rewrite of the ending of the Dream SMP parallel to canon that explores C!Tubbo through the lens of Dissociative Identity Disorder! Each alter is based either upon an abandoned plotline or upon a persona C!Tubbo has!

Links beneath the cut to read!

[mynameismckenziemae]

Picture Perfect

Bob Floyd x female reader

Prompt: Imagine Bob receiving spicy Polaroids of his bride on his wedding day from @phoenix-rising-starbird-one 😘

Summary: You do just that ^ and have to deal with the consequences 😏

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: This is pure smut. Dom!Bob, teasing, spanking, humiliation, spanking, dacryphilia, orgasm delay/denial, taking dirty photos, p in v, etc.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

“Oh my God,” Natasha laughs as she flips through the small handful of Polaroids you just handed her, “these turned out so good! Look at you,” she brings one closer to her face to get a better look, “that’s the lingerie set I got you! Bob is going to die!”

Some of them were taken at your bachelorette party, some this morning when you were getting ready. Taken in the positions he likes you best; bent over, on your knees, looking up between your thighs.

“Give a few to Bradley and Jake, too. Oh, there they are,” you spot the boys as you look out the window of your dressing home, “Wow, look at him,” you breathe, seeing him in his tux, handsome as ever. “Go now, now’s a good time.”

Bob is talking to the wedding planner when Nat gets down to the courtyard where the men are congregating.

Bradley’s laughing about something Jake says before he presses a kiss to his cheek; their wedding is coming up next month. You watch as Natasha approaches them with a conniving look on her face. She discreetly hands them each a couple of the photos and gives them instructions before turning toward Bob.

You smile as they hug each other; so much is being said without words. They talk for a moment before Natasha hands him her photos before patting him on the back and walking away.

He watches her, confused, until he looks down at the photo. His face turns beet red before he looks up a the sky for help.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

Bradley’s next. He places his photos into Bob’s hand discreetly just as the photographer finishes up with the groomsmen's pictures.

Bob gulps before he looks down at your body in various states of undress in suggestive positions. Bradley and Jake grin as Bob slowly flips through the photos, flushing further with each one.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

The photographer finds you next, taking your bridal portraits before hiding you back away in the dressing room.

There’s a text from Bob when you check your phone. Reading it sends a pulse of desire through you before settling between your thighs.

Bob: You are in so much trouble.

You: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Bob: I’ll be sure to remind you.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

You figure you missed seeing Jake give Bob his photos, but right before Jake escorts Natasha down the aisle, he shows you them in his hand and winks.

Bob’s widen in disbelief when Jake slides the photos into his hand as they do that handshake/hug thing men do. He looks down at photos quickly before sliding them into his pocket with the others.

The heat leaves his expression though when your guests rise and he sees you for the first time.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

You’re officially ‘Mrs. Floyd’ and can’t keep the smile off your face as you walk hand in hand down the aisle. The naughty photos forgotten with your newly-wedded bliss.

After the photographer steals the two of you away during the cocktail hour, Bob leads you away from the reception hall.

“Where are we going?” You ask, “Dinner starts in 30 minutes.”

“In here,” He finds your dressing room and ushers you inside, making you instantly remember the photos when he locks the door. You whimper as he turns to you with a dark, heated look.

Your eyes widen and look around in a panic as if there’s somewhere to hide in the wide open room.

He’s onto you before you can even attempt to flee. He pulls you against him, hard and pressing on your stomach while he kisses you roughly with teeth and tongue, distracting you as he walks backward to the couch by the window where you watched him earlier.

Suddenly the world spins and the next thing you know, you’re splayed over Bob’s knees.

“What-what are you doing?” You ask breathily, looking over your shoulder at him, face burning.

You knew there would be a price to pay for your little stunt, but you figured it would be after the festivities tonight, or tomorrow when you get to the hotel for your honeymoon. Surely he’s not going to spank you now, not with all your guests waiting downstairs?

“Your mascara is waterproof, right?” He ignores your question to ask his while he pulls the silky white material of your gown up over your butt. “Fuck,” he whispers when he exposes your soaked lingerie.

“Yes,” you whimper as his fingertips brush the white lace underwear, “why?”

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup when I make you cry,” he murmurs as he tugs your underwear to your thighs.

“Wh-oh!” Your question gets cut off by your gasp as his big, rough hand lands on your ass.

Bob usually drags your spankings out; warming your skin up first, rubbing the sting out between swats, dipping his fingers between your legs to tease your clit and finger your holes while he scolds you for getting so wet, making you count out loud…

But not this time.

This time, he’s merciless. Spanking you over and over with harsh, stinging slaps that steal the breath from your lungs. You’re biting your lip so hard you’re afraid you might draw blood from the effort to stay quiet.

“Been married for an hour and already over my knee,” he sounds so disappointed, but his cock is telling you different; he’s harder than ever against your side.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as he focuses his attention on the lower part of your ass, making sure you feel it every time you sit down for the next few hours as he repeatedly spanks your sit spots, making you squirm as it gets to be too much. Yet your arousal coats your thighs.

The tears start to spill over and your ass is on fire when he finally relents. He’s breathing hard as he guides you onto the couch; propping you over the arm with your knees on the cushions.

You gasp when you hear the click of the camera a moment later

“I think I’ll add these to the ones you gave me today,” he chuckles, “look at me, I wanna capture your sad little pout and those alligator tears, pairs nicely with the redness of your ass.”

You whimper, pussy clenching in need at his words. Your face heats with humiliation as you turn your head to face him, resting your head over your crossed arms.

Another flash and click of the camera before the cushion dips behind you. There’s a moment of fumbling before he guides the head of his thick cock through your arousal and pushes inside.

Your cry is muffled by your arms as he bottoms out inside you, not giving you time to adjust before he pulls out to do it again.

“You think you can get away with teasing me all day Mrs. Floyd?” He growls when you clench around him like a vice at the use of your brand-new name.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he pants. His hand releases the bruising grip on your hip to slap your reddened, tender skin again, “maybe it’ll be later, maybe I’ll let you tomorrow morning, or maybe I won’t until we get back from our honeymoon. Can’t wait to watch you hesitate before you sit down, see you squirm when my cum leaks out of you and stains these pretty white panties,” he snaps the lace against your thigh, “see how you like being teased.”

Other than a needy whine that escapes, you give no further protest; you’re getting exactly what you wanted when you decided to give him those naughty pictures.

His hips slap against yours a few times more before stilling as he releases with a low groan. Your eyes pinch close at the overwhelming need to get your own release as he twitches inside you.

He pulls out of your trembling body before gathering the cum that follows and pushing it gently back inside you before sliding your underwear back up.

Your again neglected pussy pulses with another click of the camera once your undies are back in place.

“Open,” his husky tone has you opening your heavy eyes. You obey, looking at the lens of the camera as you clean his fingers with your mouth. “Good girl,” he hums, capturing it with a final photo.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

A/N: …I have nothing to say about this. No excuses. Nothing. I’m not even ovulating right now. 🥴

Tagging who I think may enjoy this (sorry if I’m wrong!)

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@jessicab1991

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

@seitmai

@withahappyrefrain

@blindedbythelightt

@tastefulregularthots

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about French gendered terms and Zoro trying to suss out if Sanji’s into men and I had some thoughts and oops now i wrote a thing so here you go:

In the early days Zoro drives himself nuts trying to figure out if Sanji bats for his team too or not. He listens in intently whenever the conversation steers the cook towards talk of his past dalliances, but, just his luck, none of the words used indicate their gender. And there ain’t no fucking way in hell he’s asking him or anyone on the crew directly, lest they immediately understand how bad he has it for the stupid cook.

He bides his time, surely someday he’ll slip up and mention something about the people he’s slept with, right? And sure enough one day, at a feast, a drunken Usopp starts asking what people’s types are. His face still schooled into a nonchalant, neutral expression, he does his best to hide how desperately he waits for Sanji to speak up about his type, only to once again be met with more general terms about people- someone with a kind heart, dependable, an equal… he’s so concentrated on trying to pick out any gendered terms he doesn’t notice the weird look Nami throws his way at each new descriptor in Sanji’s list of desirable traits.

He’s always known Sanji speaks French, finding it endearing whenever the cook curses (even at him), whenever he goes into small little rants to himself, or the face he makes when he can only think of a word in French, rapidly snapping his fingers until it comes back to him. But it’s only when they get to a town where Sanji starts speaking to a vendor excitedly about his produce that he realizes just how much this thing, this endearing thing that’s always been there, truly affects him, and his face burns at how different the cook’s voice sounds when he actually speaks it, how enchantingly low and throaty the foreign syllables ring in his ears.

Attached to living another day, he decides that stealing a book from Robin is a bad idea, and resigns himself to ask her directly for a favour. He swallows his pride and asks if she can lend him a French learning book and a dictionary, curious as to whether he can learn it a bit, and understand whatever the hell Sanji keeps cursing and muttering about around him, and what kinds of insults he’s been throwing his way. With her ever mysterious smile plastered on her face, a chain of Robin’s arms retrieve two books from her library and hand them to him. “Do come to me if you have any questions, Mr. Swordsman. My French is pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He’s out of the room, red as a beet, before she even finishes that sentence.

Learning the curse words comes to him unsurprisingly quickly given how often he hears a litany of « putain de merde », « fait chier! » and « enfoiré! » spilling from the blonde’s distracting mouth.

He’s very happily surprised when he learns that French is apparently a heavily gendered language- and that he can glean someone’s gender just from whether the adjectives applied to the subject are masculine or feminine. Now if the stars aligned and the cook would talk about his love life in French…

Zoro starts by going through the basic first chapters, taking great pains to hide and quickly dissimulate it in his haramaki anytime someone walks in on him- especially the witch. It definitely changes his usual routine on his watch in the crows nest, he muses to himself.

Weeks, months pass, and he advances further in the lessons, his vocabulary slowly growing, while he often goes to his dictionary for the more… colorful insults Sanji throws his way. He never says a word of French himself, not knowing how he could even justify knowing any without looking suspicious, and pretty sure his pronunciation would be way off anyways. But he starts to really enjoy it, being able to understand even a tenth of the things Sanji thinks he can say without the crew (save Robin) understanding.

And then Saobaody happens. And now he doesn't have time to think about learning French, not if he wants to get strong enough. Not if he wants to protect his crew.

He's at the table with Mihawk and Perona when his mentor asks for the salt (Passez moi le sel, s'il vous plait), and he executes himself without thinking. A quiet settles over the room and he looks up to see those intense red eyes boring into him, unnerving as ever.

"You speak French?"

"Not really," he grumbles, not wanting more excuses to think of the shitty cook, and his shitty cooking, and his stupid curly brow.

"Then you will. Consider this a natural continuation of my trying to beat some manners into your brutish mind."

Two years later, and he can't wait for dartbrow to show up. His pronunciation may still be shit, but he can't wait to use his newfound skill to his advantage.

With his now solidified grasp of the language, he slowly begins to understand that what he at first though was a mistake on his part- that he must’ve missed a part of a sentence, or mixed up some words- was not an error at all. It turns out, some of the French things that Sanji yells at him aren’t insults at all.

In fact… they’re sometimes downright complimentary.

And that's definitely a problem for Zoro, who now not only needs to keep pretending that he doesn’t know what Sanji is saying, but needs to pretend he doesn’t understand it when Sanji screams at him that he has a “stupidly pretty face” or that his “tits are even bigger than Nami’s and how is that even fair” . He doesn't know what to make of it.

And then one day… the stars align.

It’s another post battle party, and the cook has been drinking a bit more than usual, a tightly gripped glass of wine in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Zoro is nursing his very own barrel of Ale when he hears the conversation turn to more gossipy topics, as it usually does the further into the night they are.

“Chopper was really into that nurse on Zou, wasn’t he?” Usopp starts to poke fun at the crew’s youngest member, laughing as the reindeer turns all red and tries to deny it.

“I mean it makes sense that she’d be his type! Right Nami?”

Nami nods at him, grinning wickedly. “Yeah, not all of us can be into rich little blonde girls can we?”

“You’re right, some of us are into rich blue-haired princesses,” he shoots back.

"At least I had the balls to do something about it before I left her island-"

Zoro is already tuning them out when Sanji sits down next to Robin just a few feet away, across from him and the campfire, his tongue loosened from a few too many refills and unconsciously reverting to his native tongue.

"Ils ont de la chance, ces deux là." he gestures to Usopp and Nami. (They're lucky, these two.)

Robin smiles at the cook, wordlessly prompting him to continue his thoughts.

"Qu'est ce que je donnerais pour pouvoir avoir quelque chose de plus qu'un coup d'un soir." Sanji sighs wistfully, lighting his cigarette. (What I wouldn't give to have something more than a one night stand.")

Robin chuckles. "Ne sont-ils pas satisfaisants?" (Are they not satisfying?)

At this point Zoro has tuned everything out, intensely focused on hearing what the blonde has to say, and not at all feeling a small churn of jealousy in his stomach for whoever shared Sanji's bed. His heart initially skips a beat at the plural masculine pronoun ('ils') used by Robin before remembering its actual neutrality in this context, as it's referring to the ""one night stands", a masculine word. Damnit. French is so dumb.

"Tu sais bien que je ne dirais jamais de mal à propos des belles demoiselles qui ont bien voulu m'accorder ne serait-ce qu'un baiser ou une étreinte. J'ai de la chance rien que d'avoir pu exister en leur présence."

(You very well know I'd never say a bad word about any of the beautiful ladies who've been kind enough to give me even a kiss or an embrace. I'm lucky just to have existed in their presence.)

Zoro feels his heart drop, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He's always known the pervert cook has been into women. Why was this confirmation hitting him the way it was? His eye darts up at his two crewmates, confirming that only Robin has noticed his eavesdropping. She opens her mouth to say something but Sanji continues, the glow of the flames dancing against his flushed skin beautifully.

"Et dans mon état normal tu sais que, par respect pour les sensibilités d'une dame, je ne te divulge pas beaucoup de détails sur ceux qui font l'affaire le temps d'une nuit. "

(And in my normal state you know that, out of respect for a lady's sensibilities, I don't divulge many details about those who do the trick for a night.)

Ceux. That's a masculine word for "those", isn't it? Zoro shakily takes another sip of his drink.

The archeologist's smile widens. "Oh, ne te fait pas de soucis pour mes sensibilités. Je brûle d'envie d'en savoir plus, et ne m'épargne pas les détails..."

(Oh, please don't worry about my sensibilities. I'm burning to know more, and don't spare me the details...)

"Je ne suis que ton humble serviteur...si ça peut te faire plaisir" (I'm but your humble servant…if it pleases you). Sanji's cheeks seem a tad more flushed than before. "En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants...c'est qu'il ne sont jamais... assez."

(It's not that they're not satisfying…it's that they're never...enough.)

"Ah? Et que recherches tu? Qu'est ce qui serait..."assez"?"

(Ah? And what are you looking for? What would be… "enough"?)

The cook exhales another cloud of smoke, and nervously looks around. His eyes settle on Zoro, and indecision flits across his eyes for a second before continuing. Zoro can feel his gaze, can almost make out the deliciously unfocused expression on the blonde's face in his peripheral vision as he continues speaking French. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage.

"Lui." (Him.)

Zoro forgets how to breathe.

Part 2 up now , and part 3 part 4

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 5) - Never Have I Ever, Darling

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: what started out as a brilliant anon prompt turned into a potential minishot turned into this bonus chapter. Have at it, darlings.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Set after part nine. Some of our beloved cast members (Phia, Tom, Liv, Emma, Harry, Bethany, Fabs, Matty, Ewan, and the reader) are in different cities so they decide to have a mini online reunion. And - you guessed it - chaos ensues.

Ewan leans back in his chair, watching the grid of faces on his screen. The reunion call had been predictably chaotic from the start, and now, with everyone several drinks deep, things are getting even more unruly.

“Okay, I’m bored of all your faces now,” Tom groans, leaning back in his chair in mock annoyance. “How about we play a little game?”

You roll your eyes at Tom’s theatrics, but your lips twitch up. “Yeah, why not? I can’t say I enjoy seeing your giant mug either.” This only prompts Tom to shoot back with, “What, this mug?” He then shoves his face into the camera until his nose fills the screen. 

Ewan’s smile widens as he watches you lean in to match Tom’s energy, scrunching your nose at the camera. His heart gives an involuntary lurch. He misses you, and all your sharp and witty retorts. You can make him laugh without even trying. His mind flashes to what you used to have together, and it stings more than he cared to admit.

But then his eyes dart to the tiny square beside yours – Matt. His smile is effectively dampened. 

Phia cuts in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “We were thinking... Never Have I Ever? So you have to say whether or not you've done a thing. If you have, take a drink. And elaborate if you want.”

She winks at someone – or maybe a few someones – definitely not Ewan. He frowns. Something’s going on here. 

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Harry jokes. “I’m too young and innocent to drink!”

Emma beams at him, “That’s my good boy.”

Without missing a beat, Tom slides in, smirking, “Do I lose cool points if I also want Emma to call me their good boy?” 

“When have you ever been cool?” Ewan deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Ouch,” Tom dramatically presses a hand to his chest, “You roasted me in the show, and now you roast me in real life? Cold, mate. Cold.”

Fabien chuckles, but Ewan barely registers it. His focus drifts to you, laughing at something Matt just said in the chat. His chest tightens, and he heads to the kitchen to refill his drink. It is always like this. He could never decide if he was more annoyed with Matt for being so… Matt, or with himself for letting it get to him. But how can it not?

When everyone is settled back in their seats, respective alcoholic beverages in hand, Phia announces, “Alright, drinks ready? Let’s go! I’ll start.” She pauses dramatically before delivering her line. “Never have I ever… embarrassed myself at work.”

Ewan freezes, already knowing he’s about to be dragged into this. Your eyes flicker toward him, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I know who! Mr. Ewan Mitchell please take the stage,” Tom prompts, his voice ever teasing.

Matt raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera. “Yeah, mate. Let’s hear it.”

Ewan feels a pulse of irritation, but he forces a casual grin, raising his glass. “Fine. Fine. There was this one time… during an interview… where I got... distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning wickedly as you catch his glance. “By what? A hard question?”

Ewan chuckles darkly, his gaze locked on you. “Nope. By a certain someone.”

The rest of the group catches on instantly, erupting in loud whoops and laughter. You laugh too, shaking your head, but the faint blush creeping up your neck doesn’t go unnoticed by Ewan.

“Ohhh, I remember,” Liv howls, her wine sloshing in her glass. “You'd go beet red! We even had a drinking game dedicated to those.”

"What?" Ewan asks, clearly confused.

"Nothing," Liv quickly mutters, but then she and Phia have to stifle their giggles.

You lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “By the way, I wasn’t distracting! I was just being professional.”

“Sure, love,” Matt chimes in, throwing a smirk your way. “You’ve always been very… professional.”

Ewan’s smile fades slightly as he watches the exchange. He tries to laugh it off, but there’s a knot forming in his chest that refuses to loosen.

Tom jumps in to keep the energy up. “Next one! Never have I ever... pretended to know something just to impress someone I liked.”

Matt and Ewan both freeze for a second. Tom’s eyes light up, knowing he’s hit something. Everyone else watches intently, waiting for one of them to crack.

Phia laughs, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come on, boys. One of you’s gotta drink to this.”

Matt is the first to cave, lifting his glass with a sheepish grin. “Alright, guilty as charged.”

“Oh? And what was it?” Ewan asks, leaning forward, his tone sharper than he intended.

Matt shrugs, eyes flicking to you briefly. “Indie film. Thought I could impress someone by pretending I’d seen it. No idea what it was about.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Points for trying, Smithy.”

“Cheers to trying too hard, I guess,” Ewan icily mutters.

Matt doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens as he drinks. 

Phia, loving the growing tension, grins wickedly as she leans toward the screen. “Alright, alright. This one might be for the silly boys. Never have I ever... gotten flustered because of someone I’m attracted to on set.”

Ewan’s heart jumps into his throat, and he catches your eye. The group goes silent for a split second before exploding in laughter.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tom says, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Ewan feels his face heating up, the alcohol loosening his control over his reactions. He tries to play it off, taking a deliberate sip of his drink, but he knows everyone’s watching him. Matt, unsurprisingly, is doing the same.

“Wait – both of you?” Emma teases, eyes darting between Ewan and Matt. “This is getting interesting.”

Bethany chuckles. “What’s this? A love triangle brewing? Well, I already know which side I’m on!”

Ewan can feel the weight of the question hanging in the air, even though it’s masked in humour. His heart pounds, but he keeps his face neutral. The laughter from the screen feels distant, his focus narrowing on you as you nervously sipped your drink.

Before anyone can linger on the moment too long, Tom jumps in with another devilish idea. “Next one: Never have I ever... met my celebrity crush.”

You sigh dramatically, lifting your glass. “Alright. Fine. I have.”

Matt’s smirk widens. “And who would that be?” 

You pause for a moment, glancing at Ewan briefly before you say, “Matt was my celebrity crush during his Doctor Who days.”

The group erupts into chaos – clapping, whistling, teasing jabs flying from every direction. Tom is practically falling out of his chair with laughter, clapping loudly. “Oh, that is brilliant! Drink up!”

Matt raises his glass, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Ewan forces a smile, the jealousy burning under his skin. Just when he thinks it might cool down, Liv drops another bomb. “Alright, here’s a cheeky one. Never have I ever... had naughty public sex.”

The group’s reactions ranged from laughter to playful groans, but Ewan’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes went wide, and you quickly glanced at him, clearly panicking.

His phone buzzes on the table, while the rest of the group is busy answering – and attempting to avoid – the question. He looks down and sees a message from you.

My Darling: Don’t answer that.

- Why not?

My Darling: They’ll figure it out

- My love, hate to break it to you but I wasn’t celibate before we met

My Darling: You know how they think

-  It’s not a big deal.

My Darling: Come on. Please?

-  Say the magic word

My Darling: I just did.

- No you didn’t

My Darling: PLEASE don’t answer that.

- Not what I’m looking for

My Darling: Oh for fuck’s sake.

- What do you call me?

My Darling: Don’t answer, Mitchell.

- Nope

My Darling: Ugh. Ok.

My Darling: Baby, don’t answer that. I implore you. Baby, oh baby. 

Ewan can’t help but giggle to himself at your barely veiled sarcasm, just bleeding off the text message. His silly girl.

- And we have a winner!

My Darling: I hate u.

- Enough to fuck my brains out in a semi-public place

My Darling: Shut up, Mitchell.

- You love me

You glance up from your phone, eyes meeting Ewan’s on the screen. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, clearly loving watching you squirm. He leans back in his chair, keeping his glass lowered. “You know, I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this one.”

Tom and Fabien erupt into loud boos, but the rest of the group is laughing, already tipsy and entertained by the spectacle. Ewan feels a rush of satisfaction watching you blush even harder.

“Oh, come on!” Tom scoffs, clearly annoyed. “You can’t plead the fifth. This is a mostly British group call.”

“I’m in LA,” Ewan shoots back with a grin. “I’m allowed.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Harry interrupts, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, what does ‘pleading the fifth’ mean?”

Emma responds, “I think that means you can choose not to answer.”

“What?” Harry practically yells, and nearly slides off the edge of his seat, making everyone laugh. “So I could have been using that all this time?”

“It’s an American thing, mate,” Bethany clarifies, trying to stifle her laughter.

“But Ewan’s doing it!” Harry protests. 

“I’m in LA so…” Ewan shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Ewan has a point,” you chime in, coming to his aid – and yours. “Just let the guy plead the fifth.”

Phia then points to you, mischief in her eyes. “Alright, babe, your turn. No pleading the fifth. You’re not in LA.”

“What?” you freeze. In your efforts not to get Ewan to answer, you forgot you had to avoid the same problem. Ewan just stares at your flustered image on the screen, mouth parted in disbelief. You think for a moment, then blurt out, “But I… also plead the fifth!”

“You’re not in the US!” Tom declares. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Come on,” you retort, scrambling for an excuse. “I could be in the US right now, how do you know?”

“Love,” Matt smirks, “I just saw you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say immediately. “That was my twin sister.”

“Then she’s every bit as gorgeous as you are,” Matt quips, relishing the moment.

“Alright, you two,” Phia says, feeling the need to intervene for Ewan’s sake. “Okay, babe, no more dodging. You have to follow the rules.”

“I… I… oh for fuck’s sake,” you sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

The group erupts into drunken cheers, the noise practically deafening through Ewan’s speakers. He watches you laugh, clearly embarrassed, but enjoying the chaos.

Then, just as the cheers start to die down, Ewan raises his glass with a smug grin. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll answer too. Yes.”

The group explodes again –  Fabien banging on his desk, Tom howling with laughter, and Liv nearly spilling her wine in delight. Meanwhile, Ewan’s eyes remain locked on yours, the tension between you undeniable.

Fabien, already catching on, cheers loudly. “Yes, mate!”

You cover your face with both hands, utterly speechless. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, trying to process the turn of events.

“Oh,” Emma starts, then repeats with more gusto, “OH! So you two…”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

A little something mainly for the Ewan girlies... 😉

Oh, and Liv hinted at a past bonus chapter if you can catch it ~

Anyhow - this was fun! At least Ewan seemed to think to so at the end there. 🥃🍷🥂

[luveline]

Love love love your writing Jade, I must have reread everything a dozen times!

For a dad!character request, what would you think of Single father Remus signing up to chaperone a school event or field trip? Maybe he meets the newest teacher, who happens to be his exact idea of the perfect person for him…

(Lots of love<3)

“Don’t get– forget your coat, dad.” 

Remus grabs his coat from the passenger seat with a self-deprecating sigh. “I’m s’posed to remember things for you, Lia.” 

Cordelia smiles up at him, her shiny coat and boots already taking on rain. “Okay, so ‘member my lunch, then.” 

Remus turns back to the passenger seat to grab her packed lunch from the footwell. “Thank you.” 

Remus is the kind of parent who writes a list every week, budgeting to the penny and laying out uniforms the night before, but he’s off-kilter today. “I wish your teacher could’ve given me some warning.” 

“She’s new, dad. You have to be nice for new people, ‘cos they don’t know– she’s not used to it.” 

Remus locks the car door, already cold to the bone and wishing they could’ve called off sick. He offers Cordelia her lunchbox (which isn’t a box at all, but a padded fabric zip up pouch in fashion with the rest of the girls her age), and tugs on his jacket. It’s not his, it belonged to Sirius a few years ago, but it got left in his wardrobe somehow and he’s been wearing it since. 

“Okay, lovely girl, what’s the rules for today?” he asks, taking her hand. 

“To be good.” 

“Yeah, and what next?” 

“To stay with my buddy.” 

“Yes, and what’s the last one?” 

She beams at him and waves their joined hands. “To have fun!” 

Remus doesn’t think he’ll be having much of it. He isn’t on the PTA, he had no idea parents even went on these trips, but they’re short-staffed at Cordelia’s school lately and now the year two teacher is off sick, and the phone call was a shock. He didn’t have the wherewithal to say no. 

Cordelia’s class are waiting outside of the school gates near a big red and green bus. Remus is the only parent. Why is he the only parent? There are around thirty kids and only two teachers, the newest of which stands at the front, your hands behind your back and a massive smile on your lips despite the bad weather. 

You’re very pretty, Remus has already thought before, and you dress sweetly, happy colours and cute skirts and pants with flowers and hearts and stars. You’re reaching up into the sky as you say, “So they have lots of energy to grow big and tall like us!”

Most of the kids are listening aptly, though pods of them chatter or fight. 

You see Remus quickly and dodge around the children to meet him. “Mr. Lupin! Hello, hi Lia. I have a packet for you.” 

He smiles awkwardly. “Right.” What’s a packet? He looks down at Cordelia but she’s straining against his hand, desperate to go and talk to her friends. “You can go, lovely. I’ll be right here.” 

“Can I sit with you on the bus?” she asks.

He’d definitely prefer it. “Whatever you want to do. Want me to have your lunchbox?” 

“No, that’s okay!” She leans up for a kiss. Remus suddenly wonders if he’s any good at being a parent, knowing you’re watching, but he leans down for a kiss and gives her a quick pat on the back. “Love you.” 

“Love you.” He clears his throat and stands up. “The packet?” 

You’re looking at him funny. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you stay, still smiling. He’s ninety nine percent sure you aren’t making fun. 

You load the children onto the bus and have him stand at the front with you, squished together in the aisle. “This is Lia’s dad, Mr. Lupin. Can everyone say hi?” He’s sure he’s beet red. “He’s our chaperone today. You listen to him just like you’d listen to me or Mrs. Davies. If Mr. Lupin tells you to stop talking, to stop running, anything at all, you listen. But today is about having fun and seeing all the flowers and bugs, so let’s have lots of fun!” You touch his elbow gently. He smiles. 

Lia forgets that she wanted to sit with Remus by that time, and you end up hip to hip in the front row. The children are immensely loud, and Mrs. Davies has to constantly ask them to be quiet, but it’s not as though Remus would notice; when he woke up that morning he had no idea he’d be doing this, his schoolyard crush for you feels as though it’s written over his forehead, and he’s more nervous than he’s felt in years. 

Remus is cool. He’s the cool friend, the quiet, collected one, who doesn’t stutter nor falter, but he finds it harder to be that way with you when you’ve seen him pick Cordelia up from the yard and kiss every inch of her face and tell her in baby talk that he missed her so so much. 

“I got you something.” 

Cool, Remus says to himself. I’m cool. 

You unveil an informational packet and a small purple box. “That’s just the stuff I told you on the phone this morning,” you say, “and some emergency stuff you can read before we get there. God forbid something happen, but if it does, you aren’t liable. I, however, will get in lots of trouble.” You offer the box. Even your hands are cute.

It’s a rough day. The kids are rowdy, the weather is wet. Lia’s friend Kory keeps stepping in puddles and Lia herself won’t leave Remus alone. She wants to eat lunch in his lap and half gets her way, the two of them holding hands, Remus a big head surrounded by little girls. 

“What’s that?” she asks in a whisper. 

“This?” He knocks the purple box with his knuckle. “This was from Miss L/N.” He opens the plastic lid to show her the treasure inside, a caramel donut with chocolate shavings. It looks expensive and delicious. “Should we share?” he whispers back. 

“Yes, please.” 

Remus breaks it in half, and Lia breaks her half into half again to share with Kory. He feels eyes on his face and looks up to find you watching him with a soft look, but you promptly flatten it and look down. You pick at your lunch, and choke when someone asks you if you’re alright.

Oh, he thinks, giving Lia’s back a quick rub. Chaperoning really isn’t so bad.

[confused-wanderer]

Batman and superman are their opposite personalities in civilian form.

.. so this gives us a perfect opportunity for the most disastrously chaotic dynamic (and love square) EVER.

ESPECIALLY if they don’t know the others true identities, or even they did and are just being lil shits anyways

Give me:

grumpy skeptical Clark to Bruce’s sunshine playboy persona.

Clark *trying to down as many aspirins as he can, half tempted to throw himself into the sun* : Bruce we needed to surround the enemy, not SEDUCE them!

Bruce *currently on his way to a dinner wearing the most seductive outfit known to man* : Well, you know the saying. We can’t gatekeep or manslaughter our way out of it. Girlboss it is.

Clark: Bruce you are going on a date with a STRAIGHT MAN

Bruce: Give me five minutes and then I’ll let you hear him scream my name

*horrified Clark noises*

==================================

Brooding and detective Batman meeting lie-detector and very effective investigator journalist Clark Kent

Batman: Tell me where the bombs are Riddler!

Riddler *currently tied up* : Hehe you’ll never find them~

Clark: Mind if I record this session Mr. Riddler?

Batman:

Riddler:

Clark:

Riddler: Who the hell-

Batman: .. Kent. How’d you even get here?

Clark: Irrelevant questions. *waves recorder* so..?

Riddler: Sure..tell the public I’m going to paint the walls red-

Clark *in investigative journalist mode* : So which devastating rock bottom led you to lose your mind and pursue this as a career?

Riddler:

Riddler: hey wait hang on this is a fulfilling career!

Clark *raising a judgemental eyebrow*: So.. you fighting a man dressed as a bat, with that atrocious outfit you must’ve gotten from hell and riddles that you’ll give him the answer to anyway.. this is fulfilling?

Riddler *voice breaking* : .. yes?

*questioning and judgemental silence*

Few hours later

Red Robin: .. why is Riddler crying and why does he also have a career counselling book in his hand?

Batman *just as surprised and kind of disturbed at how methodical and impressive Clark was in breaking down Riddlers plan based on evidence and connecting the dots* : Honestly I thought he was here for me and he started ignoring me so out of concern for his safety I demanded he paid attention

Red robin: And?

Batman: and he said “oh you don’t want me to pay attention to you” and showed me.. a lot of details and screenshots I don’t know how he got his hands on

Red robin:

Batman: Riddler also then attempted to escape and Clark just.. punched him so hard Riddler still doesn’t know which universe he’s in..

Red robin: well it could’ve been worse.. Clark could’ve pulled out a gun

Batman: .. he has a flamethrower

Red Robin: IM SORRY WHAT

Batman: .. and he told me we should work together sometimes, and I gave him few crime stories and plots to help raise awareness for the public and stop them.

Red robin:

Batman: also he gave me a therapy card.

=========

Give me ray of sunshine and leader Superman with no sense of self preservation Bruce Wayne

Superman: Good evening Mr. Wayne, there’s a credible threat against you so I’ll be on the lookout for today-

Bruce *sidling upto him* : .. damn.. when I said send your hottest stripper you did deliver..

Superman *beet red* : Im not the stripper sir!

Bruce: Really?

Superman *furious nodding*

Bruce: okay then.. hey listen, I’ve been learning about important dates in history lately.. do you wanna be one of them?

Superman. Exe has stopped functioning

Later

Superman: Mr. Wayne there’s a blackout and the building is under attack! Evacuate!

Bruce *running with gunshots behind* : Are you outside? You’re invulnerable right? Nothing can hurt you? Not even gunpowder or explosives?!

Superman *touched and pleasantly surprised* : yes.. so you don’t have to worry about me Mr. Wayn-

*glass breaks and Superman catches the dark mass falling in the air*

Superman: See? You’re safe-

*realises he’s holding a huge bomb about to detonate*

One explosion later

Superman: … you threw a bomb at me

Bruce: What?? You said you were invulnerable! I didn’t know what else to do with it??

Superman: So you didn’t think to tell me? Not even a warning?

Bruce: Listen that bomb was hot but compared to how smoking hot you were I didn’t think it ever stood a change

Superman: Mr. Wayne, listen. You should’ve atleast yelled or said something so I could’ve gotten it away in time. What if I hadn’t?

Bruce: I did! I yelled GET READY FOR A BLOWJOB

Superman:

Bruce:

Superman:

Bruce: ?? Did I do something wrong?

========

And obviously.. the usual golden retriever Superman x black cat Batman that we all know and love so I’m just going to leave it at:

Batman: Someone is going to die.

Superman: Of fun!

Batman: Sure if you consider burning to death fun

Superman:

Superman: Oh come on be a little optimistic! We must have hope! We will persevere!

Batman: we are literally being held hostages by aliens

Superman: ..listen okay, let me do the talking. We just gotta de-escalate the situation

Alien: You intruders! You will never get our superior defender systems-

Batman *done with this bullshit* : I already hacked into it twenty days ago and found all of your identities, families and now have full control over your systems of defends and weapons. If I wanted to hurt somebody.. I would’ve done so already.

Alien *tries to punch him, gets headbutted instead*

Alien *chuckles* : You have a thick skull Batman..

Batman:

Superman *frantic whispering*: Dontsayitdontsayitdontsayitdontsayit-

Batman: .. atleast mines protecting a brain. Wish I could say the same for yours

Superman *heavy sigh*

[2knightt]

CANT HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER!!! i’m utterly obsessed with the curtis brothers.

idk if u do this, but if u can, the curtis brothers with a reader who’s super down bad for them? they make it so clear, too. constantly doing everything for them, making food, buying snacks, just utterly everything. compliments, holding their hand religiously … yk.

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ you know i’m a fool for you. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! you think the curtis brothers are the only men on the planet.

tags/warnings: swearing(on my end/once during dialogue.) reader being slightly overprotective or insane, mentions of reader getting hit on, mentions of reader leaving lip stick stains, me not knowing what to write for darry.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m using ny other accounts layout bc i can’t be bothered rn. also i’m here to feed y’all i’ve noticed the outsiders x reader tag is lowkey dry asl.

Ponyboy Curtis:

WOAH HE CAN’T HANDLE ALLAT😭

like actually. he is TWEAKING AT ALL TIMES! when you first like started complimenting him, showering him in kisses, giggling n’ shit—he thought it was a one time thing.

ponyboy just thought he’d have to thug that shit out once a week or something. he was, in-fact, pleasantly surprised when you continued to do it.

“you’re so-mwah-cute! i wish-mwah-i could-mwah-hold you forever!”

“y/n…😣”

he’s so flustered omfg like actually he’s beet red LMFAOOO. if you were to put your fingers to his forehead it’d be so hot. like ponyboy’s avoiding eye contact, his lips are tightened, etc.

if he were to stay the night at your place—you make him all types of food. like, food he’d never heard of. or food he’d dream about after eating bologna for a week,

“for me? …really?”

“mhm! c’mon, don’t let it get cold now.”

ponyboy is DIGGING RIGHT THE FUCK IN. okay he is SCARFING THAT DOWN. after he’d be a little embarrassed of how quickly he ate but like you just took it as a good thing.

thinks you’re the best cook ever tbh. gordan ramsey has nothing on you type levels.

going on a walk with him to go grocery shopping for the curtis house with your hands intertwined and letting ponyboy ramble about this annoying substitute he had!!! IT’S REAL!!! ALL OF IT!!!

“n’ then he tried to tell me my answer was wrong when i studied last night—I EVEN ASKED MY FRIENDS. so, i know it was right. i just think mr. johnson had a personal vendetta against me.”

“smh…i could do slash his tires if you’d like♡!”

“what”

“nothing.”

AWHHH PONYBOY FOLLOWING YOU AROUND THE STORE LIKE A LOST PUPPY BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO BUY LMFAO

he’d like holding your sleeve or the hem of your shirt as you walk around, looking more awkward above all else.

uwahh showering ponyboy in compliments late at night when it’s just the two of you, twirling his hair as you hold him closer!!!

“you’re hair is so pretty. it’s so soft…i dunno why you put grease in it. if i was you—i’d never let anyone touch it.”

“i don’t. i only let you.”

“…REALLY??🥰🥰😚😚”

ur friends are soooo sick of you talking about ponyboy LMFAOOOO like actually. every time you go, ‘omfg did i tell you guys, he-‘ they know to just let you mindlessly ramble.

“and then ponyboy read to me ‘til i fell asleep! he’s so sweet—i dunno how he’s real!”

“i dunno how you’re so whipped.”

“he must be the funniest motherfucker on the planet if y/n’s this obsessed.”

Sodapop Curtis

OHHH Y’ALL ARE AT A CONSTANT WAR TO SEE WHO’S GONNA BEAT THE OTHER AT BEING THE BETTER PARTNER LMFAOOO

HE’S usually the whipped one in the relationship…he felt both extremely lucky and threatened when you started attacking him with kisses…

“you’re so handsome. i’m just the luckiest person on earth—ain’t i?”

“…yeah…🤨”

“why’d you say it like that?😞”

“cause I’M the luckiest person on the earth…I’M supposed to be tellin’ you this…”

but as time goes on—he does take the loss and accepts you’re better at him. for now. it’s only a matter of seconds until sodapop thinks of something insane to show his love for you.

anyways! IMAGINE COOKING WITH HIM OHHHH NY GODDDDD /?:&$:&: he just mainly stands there and looks pretty as he asks what you’re doing but SHHH. HE’S MORAL SUPPORT.

“…what?”

“i’m chopping onions for the flavour, honey.”

“you don’t like onions, though?”

“i don’t like the crunch rather than the flavou—YOU REMEMBERED I DON’T LIKE ONIONS??☹️☹️”

“of course i would!”

gladly holds ur hand 24/7. i’m not kidding. you two are like super magnets. HEHEHE IMAGINE HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AND HIS OTHER HAND HOLDING YOURS!!/!2!

you do take him grocery shopping. only sometimes, though. he only buys junk food rather than actual food.

“can i get these? please?”

“you already have two bags of chips in the cart, soda.”

“okay..😣”

“SIGH…get them.”

“HURRAY!”

knows you can’t say no to him and that’s like the only time he uses it to his advantage.

soc’s do hit on you under the premise of ‘showing you how a real man is supposed to spoil a lady like you.’ HOWEVER, you look at them like they’re aliens.

“hey, baby. what’re you doin’ around here?”

“…EW.”

“???”

they’re shocked above all else as they see you turn away from them and quickly walk away without looking back. AND WOOO SODA IS SO PROUD.

Darry Curtis

the gang acts like you two are constantly fighting whenever you start to look at darry with that sparkle in your eyes.

“guys, PLEASE! YOU’RE BREAKING UP THE FAMILY! STOP ARGUING!”

“what the hell are you on about, soda?”

“you’re scaring pony!” “don’t bring me into this.”

“mind you’re own business, soda.”

AJDIEHJR DARRY HAVING A HAND AROUND YOUR WAIST AS YOU MUTTER SWEET NOTHINGS BETWEEN KISSINGS>>>

you two are a POWER COUPLE IN THE GROCERY STORE! EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO LET HIM PAY AND HE GETS POUTTY! EVEN IF HE DOESN’T TAKE COMPLIMENTS WELL!

“y/n, please. these are for my house.”

“so?? my wallet was out first.”

“that doesn’t mean anything. baby, i’m telling you, i’m paying.”

“too late, i already handed the cashier the money.”

you cook and clean for the curtis’ to take something off of darry’s back out of the kindness in your heart and totally not because you want him to pay more attention to you!! NEVER!!

but you do enjoy the fact that darry has more time to sit down and pay attention to you! and darry really likes the extra time he has!!

“you didn’t have to.”

“yes i did! you’ve been so stressed out, it’s the least i could do for you.”

“you’re such a treat, y’know.”

“mh. only f’you.”

you FORCE him to hold your hand. sometimes he forgets that he’s supposed to hold your hand in public so do NOT BE AFRAID TO GRAB IT YOURSELF.

but once you do, darry is the last person to let go. maybe to wrap an arm around your hip—BUT THAT’S IT.

teehee leaving lipstick stains on his white t-shirt accidentally🫶🫶!! it’s all so real to me!! sure, darry’s a little annoyed but it’s okay! he can never be mad at you!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

"This is a nice place," you look around a the brunch bistro and rub your arm. The upscale venue isn't your usual joint. You're a grab and go girly aside from your girls' nights. 

"Peggy likes it," Mr. Rogers spreads his shoulders wide as he peruses the menu in his hand, dwarfing the patio style chair, "I'm more of a pub food guy but guess it's a bit early for that." 

"Oh, well, thanks for bringing me," you smile, "I... I don't eat out a lot." 

“No?” He wonders, “guess it’s no fun eating alone,” he chuckles and tilts his head, “kinda why I asked you to come.” 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t mind so much but I’m a homebody. I like to sit at home with Mitzy and knit.” 

“Mitzy?” He narrows his eyes, “so not a husband, a girlfriend. 

You chortle, “my cat.” 

“Oh,” his cheeks tinge a little pink, “right, the picture on your desk.” 

“Yeah, her,” you smile broadly, “she usually steals my yarn though so I don’t get much done.” 

“That’s cute. Peggy doesn’t like pets,” he sits back and puts down the menu. “I cat sat for Bucky for a week back when we were engaged...” 

“Mr. Barnes has a kitty?” 

“Don’t let his hard exterior fool you, he’s not as bad as he looks,” he scoffs. “So...” he slaps his chest and drags his hand down to his stomach, “getting peckish? Whatcha thinking of getting?” 

“Hmm,” you lean forward and browse the offerings, “maybe the beet salad.” 

“Beets?” He makes a face. 

“Uh, yeah, my mom always used to have beets. I dunno.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re close with your mom.” 

“Was,” you keep your eyes on the menu, “she... passed.” 

“Uh, wow, I’m sorry. I...” 

“It’s fine. Oh, reminds me, I sent your mom her flowers for the month. Lilies.” 

“Ah, thanks. Yeah, I should call her,” he says, “but lately, I just haven’t had a chance. Every time I do, it’s just another argument with Peg--” 

He stops himself as the server returns. Your chest pangs in sympathy. Peggy hadn’t sounded happier earlier. You wonder why. Marital stuff. You’re not so sure you ever want to find out. 

“Do we know what we want?” The pretty redhead smiles. 

“Ladies first,” Mr. Rogers gestures to you. 

“Oh, sure, um, could I get the beet salad?” You say. She scribbles on her pad and looks at Mr. Rogers. 

“Ah, sure, I’ll get the roast beef with the caesar salad, dressing on the side please,” he smiles and offers his menu, “oh, and a refill on the coffee.” 

“Sure thing,” she takes both menus and heads off.  

You turn your attention to the window and look at the flower boxes just on the other side. Your eyes wander up to a passerby walking a tiny white dog and you grin. You continue to watch the world pass by, a serene glaze rolling over your vision. 

As the waitress returns with the carafe to fill Mr. Roger’s cup, you sit up and blink away your haze. He smirks over the rim of his cup and sips. You give a guilty shrug. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it was... it’s fine. You looked... peaceful,” he says, “what are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing, really, croissants.” 

“Croissants?” He muses as he places his mug on the table. 

“Yeah, for next weeks meeting. Croissants or scones.” 

“Both?” He suggests. 

“That works,” you agree. 

“Hm, you look like that, thinking of work?” 

“I was thinking but not,” you say.  

“Right,” he nods and looks down glumly. “Wish I could get my mind to stop.” 

“Mm, I guess... I guess you’d have a lot to think about.” 

“Well, I can’t complain, you take care of most of it,” he runs his fingertips along the cup handle, “you really do just make everything easier. I never have to worry about you, Rosie.” 

“It’s my job,” you trill. 

“And you do it well and with a smile on your face. Some days... that smile keeps me sane,” he says. 

It’s your turn to blush. He can be so cheesy. You’re quiet, not sure what to say. You should thank him, maybe? 

“Well, what about a gift basket?” You cheep. 

“Huh?” Confusion lines his forehead. 

“Oh, my, sorry, I was thinking out loud,” you giggle and sit forward, “for Mrs. Rogers? She seems stressed, you too. You could send her a surprise and maybe... maybe take her somewhere nice. Not a restaurant, too busy but—but--” you keep yourself from rambling and press your fingers to your lips as you cup your chin. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, I like it. A gift basket, yeah, chocolates?” 

“She likes vanilla lattes so maybe a gift card too? She can treat herself.” 

“How do you know that?” He asks. 

“She always sends me for one when she comes in,” you shrug, “I’m more into the cinnamon dolce myself.” 

“Cinnamon, hmm, me too,” he agrees. “Where we you thinking I should take her?” 

“Oh, now I think of it, it might be expensive,” you cringe and drop your hand to the table. 

“She’s my wife, I shouldn’t worry about the money,” he says, “so?” 

“I’ve never been but um, like, a spa? Or maybe a massage place? A couples’ massage? Get the tension out?” 

“Mhmm,” he nods and his eyes narrow, “that isn’t a bad idea.” 

You grin and twiddle your fingers restlessly. Now that you can smell the kitchen, you are pretty hungry. You jitter your leg under the table as Mr. Rogers toys with his tie. 

“Too bad,” he says, “any man would be lucky to call you their wife. Maybe one day, huh?” 

[mr-beet]

Mr. Beet, how often do you get mixed up with Mr. Beast?

"Way too often, let me tell you! I mean, we look exactly alike, we sound the same... well, kinda. Okay, mostly it's the names sounding the same. And I think too many people have the whole 'Beauty and the Beast' thing stuck in their heads, so it really gets confusing. I have all these people messaging me asking for free money, free cars, cures for blindness! I'm just a hotel manager, not some fancy-schmancy millionaire. Do you think Mr. Beast gets messages from people asking for hotel reservations? I doubt it! No, this is my burden to bear as the less famous beet in the family."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Traditional

@jegulus-microfic July 8, Word count 523

When James walked through the door he was greeted by a slew of French curses. He followed the increasingly frustrated sounds to the kitchen. 

“Hi, love, what you up to?” James asked, trying hard to hold back his laughter when he caught sight of his fiancé, elbows deep in cake batter and covered in flour. 

“Bordel de merde!” (For fucks sake!) Regulus growled as he sieved more flour into the mixture. “Sois juste un gâteau!” (Just be cake!) Regulus didn’t look up from what he was doing and seemed completely unaware that James had come in. “Pourquoi tu ne veux pas travailler?” (Why don’t you want to work?) He cried at the huge bowl. James stood up, Regulus was starting to get overwhelmed, and he knew it was time for him to calm him down. 

James wrapped his strong arms around Regulus and took the wooden spoon from his hand. He began stirring the runny mixture, folding the flour into it until it began to thicken. Regulus relaxed against his chest, the tension leaving his body. 

“What’s brought all this on, love?” He asked as he turned to pour the batter into the waiting cake tins. Regulus came along with him, trapped by James’s arms. 

“We’re going to see your parents, and they were so kind to me last time I wanted to do something nice. Mrs Potter said she really liked cake, so I thought I’d bake a traditional Victoria sponge. The recipe said it was easy, but it was a total lie.” James put down the bowl, wrapped his arms tighter around Regulus, and kissed his neck. 

“If Mum hears you calling her Mrs Potter again she’s going to blow a gasket,” He teased as he continued kissing Regulus’s soft skin. “You could have bought a cake, and she’d have loved it.” 

“It’s not the same!” Regulus cried out, twisting in James’s arms so he could see his face. “Effie said she loves nothing more than a bit of homemade cake, so that’s what I’m making, because - because…”

“She already loves you Reg," James assured him when the reason for Regulus's mania clicked. "You don’t have to do all this because in her eyes you are family and her love for you is unconditional.” He waited while the myriad of emotions flashed across his face. Eventually, he nodded and let his forehead fall onto James’s chest. 

“Can we make the cake anyway? I worked so hard on it. I might just buy a cake for tomorrow as this one is bound to be rubbish.” James grinned down at him. 

“Of course, we can love. Though, I bet it’ll be the best cake Mum’s ever had because you made it, if you decide to take it tomorrow.” Regulus rolled his eyes at him but wiggled out of his arms so he could put the tins in the waiting oven. 

“Regulus, this is the best Vicky sponge I’ve ever had,” Effie declared as she literally licked her plate clean. Regulus bobbed his head as he flushed beet red. 

“Told you so,” James whispered sweetly in his ear before kissing him on the cheek.  

[bedoballoons]

Don't know if you take crack requests. What if reader thought the guys were females but find out they were actually a dude.

Venti, Lyney, Tighnari, Kaveh

You can add another of your choosing

I take every request I think as long as it's not pedophilia/incest/ or anything with animals/mobs!

This idea had me laughing!! Oh my gosh! I won't lie I thought Venti and Kaveh were females the first time I saw them! I also kept confusing Lyney with Lynette 😭 I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Finally now it's all making sense~༺}

CW: Fluffy! Characters get a little embarrassed cause the reader thinks they are a girl!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Venti!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"You must be thinking of my sister...Lynette?" Lyney chuckled shyly, finding his heart racing and his cheeks flushed. You were extremely cute in his eyes and you'd just complimented him on his magic tricks...if only you hadn't called him miss.

"Oh no I'm talking about you! You're assistant was wonderful as well, but you truly wowed the crowd!"

"Well I thank you for your words of praise, I'm afraid I have to correct you. I'm not a girl haha"

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, I should go now. I'm so sorry."

"No please, I'd like to talk to you more. Perhaps I could show you a few more magic tricks!"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

"Excuse me Ms.? Do you happen to know the best medicine for a migraine? I've heard you're good with medications and even make some?" You tapped the fennec foxes shoulder, hoping she could help you with the painful headaches you'd been experiencing.

"Ms.?" He turned towards you and upon hearing his voice you instantly realized your mistake...

"Mr.! I'm so sorry, I didn't- I shouldn't have just assumed!"

"It's alright, it could have been far worse. You could have called me a furry."

𑁍༄Kaveh:

"Hi, sorry if this is strange, but as I walked by I noticed your sketches and I just wanted to say they are beautiful ma'am" You shyly stood a bit away from him, hoping that he wouldn't find your compliment to forward...if only you'd known that was the least of your problems.

"Thank you, but I'm sorry, did you just call me ma'am? Did Alhaitham put you up to this?"

Your face went beet red, embarrassment playing on your features, "I don't know who that is and I sincerely apologise!"

"Oh no I'm sorry, I shouldn't have accused you of working with Alhaitham. He's my roommate and...and you probably don't need to know that." He looks away from you feeling flustered, "Can we start over?"

𑁍༄Venti:

"Ehhh, what did you call me?" Venti scratched the back of his neck, cheeks turning crimson as you chuckled sweetly...it would have been cute really,...if only you hadn't just referred to him as miss.

"I called you miss! Oh I'm sorry is it Mrs.?"

The poor bard sighed, wondering why so many people assumed the wrong gender...did he really look that much like a girl? "Aha, actually it's neither! I'm a boy."

"...I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have assumed!!"

"It's alright, happens more often then you think..."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[steddiealltheway]

Rockstar AU in which Corroded Coffin is slowly becoming more and more famous to the point that Dustin and Mike are STRESSING that after this next concert, the tickets will go through the roof with their pricing. So they have to go now.

Lucas isn’t as big of a fan, but he still wants to go. And Will takes any opportunity he can to hang out with Mike so he joins in on the need to go.

They all realize that they can’t drive, and someone will have to take them.

So they go about nagging Nancy who outright refuses no matter what they bribe her with. Jonathan apologizes because he has work that night and can’t call out.

All the boys agree that there’s no way they’re asking their parents.

Dustin reluctantly offers up Steve as their last option.

“No fucking way!” Mike yells. “He’s so fucking lame and probably doesn’t even know what Corroded Coffin is! I’d rather have my mom take us!”

Lucas points out that if Mrs. Wheeler goes, she will tell all the other moms about it, and the lead singer and guitarist Eddie Munson is known for his… unhinged theatrics.

Will hesitantly says, “I wouldn’t mind if Steve goes with us.”

Mike’s eyes snap to him. Will shrugs. Dustin prays that this will be enough.

“Fine.” Mike gives up. “But if they kick us out because of him, I’ll never let you live this down!”

“Mike, that doesn’t even make sense,” Lucas comments.

“He hasn’t even agreed yet,” Dustin reminds them, already heading out the door to ride over to Steve’s and ask. The others trail behind him.

“Like he’ll have any other plans,” Mike sneers.

The ride over is filled with Mike making rude remarks and the other boys asking what his fucking problem is.

“I just don’t want Eddie thinking we’re lame!” He finally confesses, praying that the cool air is enough to blame for the flush on his face.

Will catches his eye, and Mike nearly falls off his bike. Luckily, he can play it off since they’ve made it to Steve’s.

Dustin is ushered forward because he’s the favorite. He knocks and Steve almost immediately answers.

“Steve! Dude! How are-”

“Nope,” Steve immediately says, jutting his hip out, leaning against the doorframe.

Dustin gapes. “I didn’t even ask anything.”

Steve crosses his arms and looks around the group. “I know that look. It’s the ‘we need a babysitter’ look. I’m not doing it this time.”

Dustin pushes past him and the others follow behind him into the house.

“Hey hey hey! I didn’t even- take off your shoes at least!” Steve yells after them.

Will already has his shoes off while Mike rolls his eyes at Steve, begrudgingly taking his shoes off. Lucas apologizes. Dustin doesn’t even bother to untie his shoes.

“You have to take us to this concert. You owe me,” Dustin says.

“Owe you for what?”

“For… for telling me my hair looked good at the snowball dance!” Dustin exclaims proudly, complimenting himself on his improvisation skills.

All the other boys rapidly agree with Dustin while Steve tries to argue that it did look good. The conversation derails quickly into a general argument until Mike unexpectedly speaks up, “Alright! Enough.”

He digs through his backpack with alarming urgency and pulls out a picture of… Eddie Munson?

“We need to see him. This may be our only chance! And when I tell you that you were my last option, I mean that you were my last option. I would rather have my fucking dad take us! But they insisted it be you. You have to understand that begging you like this- this is rock bottom for me. But I beg you. Please take us,” Mike finish dramatically thrusting the picture into Steve’s hands.

“Dude, why the fuck do you have a picture of Eddie Munson in your backpack?” Dustin asks and the other boys join in egging him on.

They’re all oblivious to Steve’s little crisis over the image of the metalhead until he suddenly announces, “I’ll do it. I’ll take you guys.”

Dustin immediately yells and hugs him. Lucas and Will hug each other as Mike snatches the image back and stuffs it into his backpack again - face beet red.

“Wait, when is it?” Steve asks breaking the hug.

Dustin stammers out a few, “Well, it’s funny that you asks… so funny actually. Hilarious. Funniest thing I’ve heard all day…” All the boys make their way to the front door.

“Dustin…”

“It’s tomorrow night at ten! We’ll be here at nine!” Dustin yells immediately rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

The boys all laugh as the rush to their bikes, hearing Steve yell, “Always the goddamn babysitter!”

-:-:-:-:-:-

Nevertheless, Steve rushes into his car at 9:05, while Dustin and Mike scream that they’re going to be late as if it’s the end of the world. About ten minutes into the ride, Mike finally notices what Steve is wearing.

“Uh, Steve. Please tell me you have something on under that,” Mike groans.

Steve glances down at his yellow sweater and asks, “What’s wrong with this?”

This sends Mike spiraling while Dustin laughs, “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

Steve shakes his head. Dustin joins in with Mike’s breakdown.

When they get there, Steve realizes what they mean. In the venue - that is on the surprisingly smaller side - there isn’t a single person who isn’t sporting either a t-shirt from the latest album Hellfire or wearing all black.

Steve sticks out like a sore thumb. The people around him give him looks, but he doesn’t really care since he’s never heard of Corroded Coffin. Besides, with him standing a few rows away from the stage, there’s no way the band would spot him.

The opening band is alright and gets the crowd really going to the point where Steve can see why none of the kids wanted one of their parents to bring them. He gets lost in the general vibe of the place, reminding him of a way more intense version of the big high school parties he used to go to. He knows Dustin would kick him in the shins if he told him that.

Once the opening band walks off stage, the lights go out, startling the audience. “What the hell-” Dustin says before loud chords play out with a flash of lights.

Steve catches Will and Mike holding hands in one flash and in the next they’ve broken away with red faces.

Steve would laugh fondly at the pair, if there wasn’t a sudden spotlight on Eddie Munson. And fuck he’s gorgeous. His eyes flicker over the crowd, and Steve swears that his eyes narrow when he looks toward him, but there’s no way he can see anything in the spotlight.

He sings into the mic, and Steve’s heart beats a little faster. Thank you kids for making him take them here.

A few songs in, Steve is relaxing into the music which isn’t his usual taste, but there’s something about Eddie that… makes him want to hear more.

There’s an odd pause between songs when Eddie begins talking to the audience. He pulls his hair in front of his mouth and is… oddly adorable. He seems to get flustered by the crowd while simultaneously radiating with all the praise.

He introduces each band mate and gives them a look before saying, “They’re going to kill me for this, but we’re going to do something new tonight.”

One member - Gareth - gives Eddie a look like not again.

The audience waits in anticipation for Eddie to announce whatever scheme he’s thought up. “Ladies, gentlemen, and everything beyond and in between… we’re going to invite someone to the stage.”

Steve laughs as Mike and Dustin fight to get Eddie’s attention.

Eddie takes his time, holding his hand above his eyes to block out the stage lights and actually observe the audience. Eddie laughs darkly into the mic. “I won’t lie to you guys. I had this person picked out from the moment I saw him. Welcome Mr. Yellow Sweater to the stage!”

Steve’s heart drops in his chest and everyone around him turns to him as if they’re going to murder him - especially Mike. Dustin, Lucas, and Will, on the other hand, excitedly shove him along, ushering him to the stage.

Steve makes his way to the edge of the stage and looks up to see Eddie holding his hand out. Steve takes it and perfectly scales the stage, ending up right up in Eddie Munson’s personal space. “Well, hello there, pretty boy. What’s your name?”

Steve is thankful that only he can hear Eddie’s words. “Steve,” he manages to choke out.

“Steve, please tell me you spilled something on your shirt and this was the only thing left for you to wear,” Eddie says.

Steve looks down at his sweater once again because hey, what’s wrong with his sweater? He shakes his head.

“You keep getting better and better…” Eddie looks him up and down.

The drummer yells, “Eddie! The fans are getting restless. Get on with whatever this is!”

Eddie shoots him a apologetic look and tugs Steve towards the microphone. “Everyone, meet Steve the exact person I pictured when writing this song.” The crowd begins screaming as a few notes ring out. Steve has never heard this song in his life but it somehow sounds familiar.

Eddie pulls a stool forward and whispers, “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

Steve immediately sits down and prays that his face isn’t as red as he imagines it to be. Eddie shamelessly eyes him up and down as he sings some song about a place like Hell called The Upside Down with demobats, strange vines, and what sounds like the budding romance with a stranger.

It’s weird as fuck, but somehow Steve just gets it.

As the final notes ring out, Eddie looks off as if he’s recalling some memory or trying too. He shakes his head and says to the audience, “Let’s give another round of the applause to the poor soul I dragged up here.” The audience roars with applause that confuses the shit out of Steve, but luckily it drowns out Eddie saying in Steve’s ear, “Meet me after the show at the back right door.” He cocks his head towards the back at Steve’s left.

Steve immediately replies, “Okay, but I have four kids with me.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“They’re my… friends.”

Eddie stares at him in disbelief and huffs out a laugh. “You’re full of surprises, Steve. I’m happy to meet them.”

Steve nods at him not knowing what else to do and makes his way to the edge of the stage and hops down. As he makes his way back to the kids he can’t help but think what the fuck just happened.

All the boys are yelling, asking what he said to him and why did he choose him and is he nice and…

“He said he wants to meet us after the show,” Steve says first.

“What did you say to him?!” Mike shouts.

“I told him that we couldn’t because Wheeler here has a strict bedtime.”

All the boys’ jaws drop, and Steve is actually afraid Mike will murder him. “I’m kidding. I said we would,” Steve says nonchalantly leaving out the part where Eddie had rendered him speechless after asking to just see him.

The rest of the concert passes pretty quickly, and Steve tries not to get his hopes up that the winks Eddie gives the audience are all directed at him.

As Eddie wishes everyone a goodnight and makes his way off stage, Steve’s heart starts pounding in his chest. Mike and Dustin are frantically trying to appear cooler than they are while Lucas and Will try to muffle their laughter. Steve guides them towards where Eddie had told him to go, going directly against the flow of everyone exiting the venue. 

Steve looks around, making sure no one else is following them and pushes the door. It swings open and Steve steps through expecting some sort of security to be blocking him but… there’s no one.

There’s a loud shout of “Holy fucking shit!” chanted over and over again down the hall, with more people joining in. Steve follows the noise cautiously until he gets to a door that is slightly cracked. Sounds of squealing, laughter, and floorboards creaking - from what sounds like people jumping up and down - ring out through the crack.

Steve pushes the door open and is met with a startled shout that comes from none other than Eddie Munson. “Man, you’ve got to get better security in this place,” Steve says without thinking but Eddie’s bandmates are nodding in agreement and shouting out things like “That’s what we’ve been telling him!”

Dustin pushes past Steve and gets down on one knee to bow and say, “My lord,” he stands up and continues, “I am Dustin Henderson. Huge fan.” He holds out his hand and giggles as Eddie bows back and shakes it. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Dustin. Never change.”

Dustin’s smile widens into what is an almost terrifying grin of joy. Steve turns to find Mike gaping at Eddie, frozen in place. 

Eddie smiles at Mike and asks, “And you are?”

“Mike,” the boy chokes out. He clears his throat. “Mike Wheeler.”

“Good to meet you, man,” Eddie says, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

Steve’s heart warms at the interactions, he turns around to find Will and Lucas nearly hiding behind him. He nearly tells them to get a grip, but he knows what it’s like being under Eddie’s gaze for the first time and can’t blame them.

“Eddie, this is Will and Lucas,” Steve introduces them as if Eddie’s one of his friends or something. 

Will blushes when Eddie shakes his hand, and Lucas makes a comment about loving his work which Eddie thanks him for.

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can’t wait to speak to you guys more, but I’m going to request a few minutes with Steve here. If that’s alright?” Eddie holds eye contact with Steve who looks at the other kids first - who are all urging him to say yes with their eyes - then he nods his confirmation. Eddie tries to hold back a smile. “I hope the rest of my band can provide entertainment that isn’t lame.”

“Hey, fuck you, man! What do you mean your band?!” Is the general response from the other members before the four boys are firing questions at them.

Eddie pulls Steve into a small dressing room and closes the door. Steve doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it certainly isn’t Eddie’s response. “I’m so sorry, dude. I- I don’t what came over me up there,” Eddie’s face has dropped and he’s fidgeting with his rings looking endearingly awkward. He continues pacing and going on, “I just saw you, and, really, stage Eddie is a huge flirt, but I’ve never singled someone out like that before. And you clearly aren’t even a fan. Are you a fan?” Eddie questions, eyes narrowed, invading Steve’s personal space.

“I am now,” Steve replies, glad that his charm has suddenly made a reappearance. Eddie blushes and he pulls a strand of hair in front his face. Steve finds him absolutely adorable. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize... again. You’re just... so familiar, and I needed a closer look. Because... I meant what I said about you. You’re exactly who I pictured and... Fuck, I’m coming on way too strong right now.” Eddie sits down in an uncomfortable looking foldable chair, burying his face in his hands.

“You know,” Steve says slowly approaching Eddie, “I hadn’t even heard of you or your band before those kids showed up at my door yesterday.”

Eddie sarcastically replies, “Thanks.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, that- that’s not what I mean. I mean... I almost didn’t take them here. I truly didn’t want to.”

Eddie looks up and smiles amusedly at Steve. “You’re really digging yourself a deeper hole right now.”

“I-” Steve sighs and grabs the chair closest to him, drags it directly in front of Eddie, and immediately sits across from him, so they’re eye to eye. “I wasn’t going to until Mike showed me a picture of you. And something in me told me I needed to go; you know? That I somehow had to meet you. And that song, man, it was so fucking weird-” Eddie snorts. Steve continues, “But I understood everything you were saying as if it was... weird deja vu or something. I don’t know.”

Eddie holds eye contact with him for a few moments, searching his eyes for any lies. He shakes his head and sighs, “I know exactly what you mean. But maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Maybe,” Steve replies. He boldly grabs Eddie’s hands and holds them in his. He glances down at their hands and smiles. Then, he catches sight of his watch and more specifically the time. He shoots up. “Shit! I have to go. The kids’ parents are going to absolutely kill me if we don’t head back soon.”

Eddie stands and nods at Steve. Neither of them wants to leave each other’s company. Steve frantically looks around and spots a pen. He scribbles his home number onto Eddie’s arm and rushes out of the room. “Guys, we need to head out.”

“What? Why?” Mike asks, and man that kid needs to keep that attitude in check.

“Check the time,” Steve suggests. The boys look at their watches.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dustin says then turns dramatically towards the group. “Gentlemen, it was lovely meeting you, I can’t wait to see you again one day.” He nods his head and rushes out the door. The other boys hurriedly say their goodbyes and rush out. 

Steve holds eye contact with Eddie for a moment then hurries after the boys. He wonders when he will call. 

(Oh gosh... is this... unfinished??? I meant to finish it. Anyways, Eddie definitely calls Steve and when they meet up again Steve is like “How the hell do you still have my number on your arm?” and Eddie nonchalantly replies, “I got it tattooed so I wouldn’t lose it.”)

[bellysoupset]

Sick at Home - Part 2

-

Vince woke up a little past midnight, with the noise of the front door opening and closing.

There was giggling down the hall and Vince sighed, peeling Liv off of him — she was knocked out and still burning up, but not quite as much as before.

Downstairs, the living room lights were off, but the kitchen was on and Vince leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching as Rita and Maryann, Sophia's friends, scoured the fridge for food. His own sister was slumped over the kitchen island, head in her hands and clearly drunk.

"Uh-hum," Vince cleared his throat and the two girls squealed, jumping up. Sophia simply lifted up her head and let out a groan.

"Mr. Monacelli-" "Mr. Moan- I mean, Monacelli!"

Vince stared at them, amused, before rolling his eyes and looking at Sophia, "what happened to I'm not gonna drink, Vince?"

"Uhhhm... M'not drunk," Sophia slurred, which would've been a lot more believable if she wasn't hugging the counter. Vince scoffed, walking further into the kitchen.

"What about you two?" he squinted at the girls and Maryann wavered, while Rita's face turned beet red.

"We're not drunk! We're not!"

"Yeah, there wasn't even anything to get drunk on," Maryann pouted, "they bought a two pack, for twenty people. I told you, Josh is super cheap," she turned to glare at Rita and the girl waved her off quickly, still looking mortified Vince was standing in front of her.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Vince groaned, then jumped as Sophia slid down her stool, falling on her ass on the ground. He couldn't help but cackle, crossing the room to help her up, "not drunk, uh?"

"Not- no," Sophia whined, she wrangled herself away from him, stumbling and bracing against the counter, "not drunk..."

Vince's amused smile slipped and fell as her friends chirped in, "yeah, she had like one beer. Hey bitch, sit down, you're gonna fall again."

"Lang-" he started to say automatically, before pausing, "one beer? Nothing else?"

"Nope," Maryann popped the P of her word, turning to Rita, "let's go?"

"Did anyone hand her any other drink?" Vince had completely tuned the teenagers out, his blood suddenly going cold. A memory of Wendy sitting in her bathtub looking completely destroyed flashed before his eyes, "anything? Even water?"

"No..." Rita frowned, "why? What's wrong?"

"You don't see- She's acting- Bambi, c'mere," Vince stepped closer despite his prickly little sister jumping back, "look at me, Soph," he cupped her face to force her to look at him, fully expecting to find her pupils blown, only to startle as his hand met burning skin, "Aw, Sophia..."

"What's going on?" Her best friend stepped closer, "Soph?"

"She's okay," he breathed out relief and nearly melted on a puddle as Soph lowered her head to his shoulder and whined: "Vin, I don't feel well..."

"She's just sick," he reassured Rita, the girl's big brown eyes squinting at her friend in concern, "I think you two should go, before you end up catching this... Do you want me to call you an Uber? Or drive you home?"

"We're not drunk, Mr. Moan," Maryann rolled her eyes, fishing out the car keys from her purse. Her personality was sarcastic and prickly like Sophia's, but Vince felt a vindictive sense of relief at the fact he knew Mary wasn't Soph's closest friend, "we can drive ourselves."

"Uh-hum," he wasn't sure he believed them, but there were more pressing issues at hand. They seemed very alert, so Vince sighed and gave in, "alright, uh- Get home safe."

"Feel better, Soph," Rita waved to her friend, while Maryann grabbed her by the wrist to drag her out, with a stolen bottle of juice in her hands.

"Your friends are so weird," Vince whispered, turning to face his sister. She let out a huff, cheek pressed to his bicep and eyes shut, "let's get you to bed, kiddo."

"My head's hurting," Sophia groaned and Vince wrapped a hand around her elbow, guiding her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"You got a fever," he explained, a hand hoovering behind her back as they climbed up the stairs, "I think you caught Liv's bug."

"Liv- Liv's sick?" Sophia frowned, stopping at the landing of the stairs and glancing at Livia's white door, covered in pink stickers, just ahead of them, "I thought she was just being whiny because Ma and Babbo are gone..."

"She's got a stomach flu," Vince cringed, grabbing Sophia's shoulders and steering her away from their baby sister's room, "and she's finally sleeping now, so leave her be. I'm gonna get you some meds... Are you feeling nauseous at all?"

She shook her head, falling sit on her bed and groaning, "just a headache and dizzy..."

"Alright," Vince shuffled uselessly, wanting to fuss over her in the same way he did Liv and knowing full well Sophia was going to bite his head off, "I'm gonna get you some Tylenol for the headache and a bottle of water. You need anything else?"

"No," she yawned, starting to remove all of her rings and chains.

Instead of just grabbing the pills in his parent's first aid kid, Vince grabbed the whole plastic case, as well as a bucket downstairs and Gatorade. Sophia didn't seem nauseous, but he thought that was a matter of when, not if.

He stepped back in her room and let out a chuckle, "where the hell did you find that, Soph?"

His sister was wearing a combo of her own PJs little shorts, with one of his big team uniforms on top, back from his high school days, fitting on her like a dress.

"It's comfy, Ma said I could keep all of them," Sophia yawned, slipping under the covers and rolling on the bed so her face was buried in the pillows. On her back Monacelli was written in big white letters against the black fabric.

"Well, not all of them, I wanna frame one," Vince pouted, planting the Gatorade on her bedside table and the bucket next to her bed, "take your meds," he poked her shoulder and Sophia let out a groan, but grabbed the pills he was handing her without a complaint and swallowed them with a Gatorade gulp.

"Can I sleep now?" She yawned again and Vince sighed, nodding and lingering like a worried mother. He hadn't taken her temperature and Sophia was going to be mad if he insisted on it now... "Are you gonna just stand there? Don't be a creep, get out of my room."

Point in case.

Vince rolled his eyes, "I'm gonna be in my room, just yell if you need anything. I'm leaving all doors open."

"Okay," she huffed, sounding exhausted, then turned her head, blue eyes piercing him, "go away."

He didn't bother answering, flipping her off and walking out of the bedroom. Before going to his own, he sneaked inside Liv's bedroom to check on her. The little girl was still sound asleep and still had a fever, so he dug through the first aid kit until he found the old ear thermometer and waited for it to beep.

Still a 101.5 ºF....

He flopped down in his own bed with a sigh, vision blurring with exhaustion as he texted Wendy, despite the fact it was nearly 1 AM. Vince never felt bad about texting his girlfriend late at night, since she wouldn't wake up with something as simple as a text notification anyway.

"Liv's sick, puked the meds twice already. Can I feed her more??"

He dropped the phone on the pillow and rolled on his side, muffling a tiny burp against the fabric. His own upset belly wasn't over, intestines still squeezing and cramping, making him feel slightly queasy.

It was almost 3 AM when he woke up with his phone screen lighting up. Wendy had sent an answer, so she was probably on shift instead of home.

HoneyBee: when did you give her the meds?

He was too sleepy to type an answer, instead hitting the voice note button, "hey honey, sorry for bothering you. It was around 9 PM."

Wendy didn't answer him, instead the phone switched into call mode and Vin let out a yawn, picking it up, "Hi..."

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" she sounded wide awake and Vince shook his head, before realizing she couldn't see him.

"It's fine, I have to go check on her ag-" he yawned, "again... How are you?"

"I'm fine, it's been a hectic night. I got pulled as an assistant into surgery, was super cool," she was speaking a mile a second, "if you fed it to her around 9 PM, it's safe by now. How high is the fever?"

"Nearly 102," Vince sat up slowly, his whole body felt heavy, "should I wake her up to feed her more meds?"

"Take her temperature again, if the fever went up then yeah. Fevers are dangerous with little kids," Wendy sounded almost excited, but he knew it was just the adrenaline still going through her.

"Mmm'kay," Vince pulled the phone away from his face as he let out another burp, this one not so tiny. When he pressed the device back to his ear, his girlfriend had been stunned into silence, "Wen?"

"You're feeling sick, aren't you?" He could almost see her glaring at him and Vince shrugged.

"I think I'm just tired," he said, which wasn't a lie, more like wishful thinking, "I'm gonna go check on them..."

"Them? Sophia is down as well?"

"I think so," he rubbed a hand over his face, "she had a fever, but wasn't puking like Liv."

"Do you need any help?" Wendy sounded concerned, "Vince, if you're sick-"

"I'm not sick," he insisted, "and you're at your job and four hours away. Relax, I can handle my sisters, I've done it a bunch of times before," granted he never had both of them sick at the same time.

"Alright... Call me later, I'm not gonna go home until 6:30," Wendy sent him a kiss and he promised her that he would, before mumbling an i-love-you and hanging up.

Livia's fever had climbed to 101.9, that he didn't like one bit, so Vince was back to crouching down next to her bed, shaking her awake. This time, he was prepared, with a bucket in his free hand and had left a bunch of towels on her bedside table as well.

His baby sister whined and tried to roll away, so he shook her once more, "Liv," he brushed the dark curls away from her face, "Livia, wake up..."

As soon as she did, her eyes welled up with tears and he sighed, "hey... Shh, baby, I'm here. What's wrong?"

"I want mamma," Livia pouted, her voice all hoarse, causing Vince's heart to squeeze.

"i know, I'm sorry," he pulled her into a hug, "I'm sorry."

She sniffled pitifully against his neck, pressing her overheated forehead to his shoulder, "my head hurts..."

"I got you some meds," Vince peeled her off gently, "can you take them? How's your tummy?"

"Hurts too," her bottom lip was trembling, dangerously close to tears, "I don't like this..."

"It's gonna be over soon," he pressed a kiss to her brow, grabbing the children's syrup and a spoon, "just one big gulp and you can go back to sleep, alright?"

"Okay," she made a face at the medicine, but took it without much whining and Vince helped her lie back down, freezing as she gagged and burped at the taste, but nothing came back up.

"Vinny," Livia pouted, "cuddle?"

"Cuddle," he agreed, smiling at her, "I just gotta check on Soph first, bambi."

"Sophie's sick?"

"Yeah," he fluffed Livia's blankets, "bucket is right here, okay? I'm gonna be back soon."

"Okay," she curled up, but simply shut her eyes, seeming ready to sleep once again. He left her door open, then walked to Sophia's bedroom.

Unlike Livia, who was a perfect doll, Sophia had kicked out all blankets and was currently sitting up against the headboard, the bucket on her lap as she drooled.

Vince grimaced, his own stomach flipping, "Aw, Soph," he crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, gathering her long light brown hair into a ponytail, "so much for the medicine..."

"M'sorry," Sophia slurred, spitting in the bucket and curling up as much as she could, "I don't- My stomach-"

"I know, kiddo," Vince rubbed her back with the hand that wasn't holding her hair away from her mouth. He glanced past her shoulder and immediately regretted it. She had been sick already, an awful congealed mess was inside the bucket and his own stomach flipped at the sight. Vin turned his head, breathing through the nausea that was causing goosebumps to tickle at his skin and his mouth to taste weird.

Under his hold, Sophia convulsed and puked again. She was panting erratically now and Vince remembered his sister didn't do well with vomiting. She got sympathy nausea when others were sick and got really nervous when it was herself.

"Hey," he cupped her forehead with a hand, "hey, bambi, slow down. You're just gonna make yourself si-" she gagged and brought up another mouthful of acid and beer, letting out a pitiful whine.

"You're okay, I got you," Vince sighed, swallowing down the knot in his throat, "c'mon, one big burp, baby. Get it over with."

Sophia nodded, gulping down air and forcing up a burp that was deep and sickly, "God," she mumbled, spitting inside the bucket and belching again, "I feel gross..."

Vince patted her back like a baby's and it forced up another burp, that switched into a retch halfway through and Sophia buried her face back in the bucket, this time bringing up a powerful wave of vomit.

She started crying, still leaning over the bucket, words slurring into a pathetic chanting. Vince turned his head, moving his hand from her forehead to muffle a burp against his fist and gulping down when it brought with it a splash of puke.

Sophia let out a groan, "Vin..." she pulled back, "Vin, I don't- I don't feel well..." she straightened up fully, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, manners be damned and hyperventilating.

"It's the flu, bambi," Vince reassured her, "you're going to feel better by tomorrow, I promise-"

"No, I-" she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the bucket in his arms and clearly trying to get up. She had a hand protectively on her belly and Vince grimaced as he realized why she was getting all frantic, "fuck, I- fuck-"

"Okay, c'mere," he planted the half full bucket on the ground, before jumping up and grabbing her by the elbow, "don't shit your pants, I got you."

"I'm- I-" she was getting all worked up and Vince cringed in worry and sympathy, "Vin-" Sophia never quite finished whatever she was going to say, because her belly let out a loud, upset gurgle and she folded in half, chest hiccupping as she brought up a mouthful of puke all over Vince's toes, her shirt and the hallway floor.

Vince jumped at that, his backburner nausea becoming pressing and urgent, causing him to clam a hand over his lips and close his eyes to avoid looking at the mess. Normally he was really good dealing with accidents, but tonight... The sensation of the liquid against his skin was more than enough to cause him to retch.

Next to him, Sophia grounded him quickly by letting out a sob. She curled up, hair getting in the way, and still hugging her belly fiercely, "M'sorry-Vin-" there was a desperate edge to her voice, and he wasn't sure if it was because of her normal reaction to puking or because she was about to mess herself up even more.

"I got you," his voice was a whole note deeper with queasiness, words sticking together, and Vince clammed his mouth shut, wrapping an arm around his sister's waist and all but dragging her to the bathroom she shared with Liv.

She was still crying, but conscious enough to shove him off the bathroom as soon as they were inside. Slamming the door on his face.

Vince wasn't offended, if anything he was relieved, as he sprinted down the hall himself and barely made it in time back to his suite, gagging over the sink.

The first retch left him breathless and deaf, but brought up nothing. However, the second one was accompanied by his stomach churning and Vince nearly projectile vomited inside the sink.

He opened the register to wash off the mess, trying not to think of the puke clinging to his toes or the clammy sensation all over him, or the way his lower belly apparently wanted to join in the mess by the fierce gurgling inside...

Vince collapsed sitting down in his toilet, grabbing the trash bin in order to puke at the same time his intestines emptied out once more, sending painful cramps that made him feel all jittery.

He wasn't sure how long it was until he felt wrung dry, head pounding from all the heaving, but he knew he couldn't let himself fall in bed like his body wanted to. There was a mess down the hallway that needed cleaning and Sophia who needed tending and Livia was still sporting a high fever...

Hell, did he have a fever?

Vince took a quick shower once again, spending most of it gagging fruitlessly over the drain, before forcing himself to keep going. Wiping down the puke from the wooden floors was a bigger challenge than he expected and he ended up dry heaving over the bucket half filled with water twice.

Just as he finished cleaning, he heard the bathroom door opening with a creak and Sophia's little voice, English lost as she had completely switched to Italian, "Vin?"

"Yeah?" He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal, "are you okay? Do you need help?"

"Can- Can you get me new pjs...?"

"Yeah, of course," he stood up from the ground with a grunt, wrapping an arm around his stomach and walking back to her room like an elderly man.

He was barely paying any attention as he grabbed a mismatched set of PJs from her first drawer, then stumbled back to the bathroom door and knocked, "Soph?"

"Just a second..." she sounded weak and it gave him a renewed strength to stand up straight. There'd be time to collapse later.

A minute later the door opened and his sister took the PJs, before shutting it again. She was wrapped in a towel, trembling like a leaf, her wet hair falling limply next to her face.

He heard shuffling around, then her retching once more and groaning, "oh no..."

"Soph?"

"Just a- Just a sec!" She yelled and Vince leaned against the door, trying to focus on her and not the fact his own nausea was building once more.

A minute later she opened the door, clad in her new PJs and grimacing as she saw the abandoned bucket near her door, "I'm really sorry about the mess..."

"It's okay," Vince breathed in, inspecting her, "how are you feeling?"

"Really dizzy," Sophia leaned against his side, uncharacteristically touchy and clingy. He hugged her closer and was about to guide her back to bed and go retrieve the thermometer, when Livia poked her head out of her bedroom.

"Vinny?"

Vince and Sophia both turned around, just as the little girl wrapped her arms around her belly, "I don't feel good..."

"God, don't puke now, please-" Sophia whined and Vince shot her a glare, crossing the hallway to scoop up his seven year old sister.

"That's alright, baby, let's get you to the bathroom..." he could feel the uncomfortable gurgling inside her tummy, pressed against his chest and Vince nearly gagged himself at the prospect of cleaning up more sick tonight, "Sophia, get in bed and take your temp, please. And some tylenol, it's all in Liv's bedroom."

"Uhmmmkay..." Sophia stumbled forward, then braced against the wall, breathing deeply, her skin deteriorating to translucent white. Vince stopped walking, only for Liv to let out a groan herself.

"Vinny-" there was an urgency in her voice and he wasn't sure who to even care to first. Sophia looked like she was going to collapse, but he decided he'd rather clean up puke than diarrhea as Livia's tummy let out another upset growl.

He sped up, planting her on the toilet just in time and grabbing the waste basket, holding it under her chin just as the kid's body decided to vacate of everything she had ever eaten.

Vince steadied her with one hand, the other one he pressed over his own mouth and nose and tried not to end up puking on his little sister's lap, since that would be a major dick move.

After what felt like an eternity, Livia stopped sobbing and vomiting and having the runs, so he flushed twice and closed the bin, putting it as far away as he could, "stay sit," he asked in a thick, nauseous voice, then leaned over the girl's sink and heaved himself.

Next to him he heard Livia let out a scared cry and Vince waved in her direction, grumbling between burps, "I'm okay- I'm alright..."

Vince coughed another splash of stomach acid, then washed the sink and his mouth, meeting his own gaze in the mirror. He looked a mess, "alright, baby, can you step in the shower, please?" he opened the warm water, "just wash up a bit, okay? I'll get you some PJs..." and check on Sophia. He was praying she hadn't puked in the hallway again.

"I- I- Are we dying?!" Livia sobbed, scared, and Vince had to force himself not to eyeroll. He kissed the top of her head, stripping her of her shirt — she had sweat through the fresh set of clothes — and grabbing her by the armpits, forcing her under the spray, nudity and water be damned.

"No, we're not dying, bambi," Vince stumbled slightly, shutting the toilet and handing Livia the soap bar, "wash up, okay? I'll be back in a minute. Sit down on the ground if you get dizzy, promise me."

"Okay," she was still crying and he hated that he had to step out of the bathroom, but those thoughts all but flew out of the window as he did and found Sophia curled up on the ground.

"Sophia!" He skipped to his knees, patting her cheeks, "Soph. Soph, open your eyes-" she was burning up, "Sophia, don't do this to me, open your eyes," Vince all but shook her like a rattle toy and his sister finally opened her eyes, dazed and in pain.

"Stop... Dizzy..." She slurred, letting her head fall forward, lolling like a broken doll. Vince cursed, throwing her arm around his neck and getting up, pulling her to his arms bridal style.

"Fucking hell," he cursed darkly, carrying her to bed and then running to Livia's room to grab the first aid kit, as well as the abandoned towels. He returned to the bathroom to wet them with cold water, only to remember about Liv...

"C-cold-" her teeth shattered and Vince grabbed her abandoned robe in one of the hooks, crouching down inside the shower area.

"C'mere, bambi, get your arms in- There you go, good girl," he kissed her temple, tying up the robe and picking her up like a toddler, "hold on to me, we'll go to bed in a second, let's just get this to Soph first..."

Livia yawned against his neck, still trembling and he wasn't entirely sure if he her fever had broken or his had risen to her level, because she felt cold to him.

He wet the towels, then walked back to Sophia's bedroom, sitting on the corner of the bed and starting to wipe his sister's face with the cold wet towels, sticking the baby thermometer in her ear, age be damned.

103ºF, fuck.

"Sophia," Vince shook her vehemently, "Sophia, wake up, I need you to take meds. C'mon, wake up," he dragged her half sitting up and his sister turned her face away with a groan as he pressed the pills to her lips, but Vince was scared and angry thanks to the panic cursing through him, "no, no drama. Drink up."

"Vin..." Sophia whined, opening her eyes, "please, don't- I don't feel well..."

His own eyes burned, he hated forcing them to do anything. He swallowed against the knot in his throat, "Soph, either you take the meds or we're going to the hospital," he said strongly.

The threat worked, because she opened her lips and swallowed the small pill, but it worked too well, since it caused Livia to pull back from her tight hug against his neck, horrified.

"Spital!?"

"Not you, bambi," Vince pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to rub his killer headache away. Wendy would be cursing him for not drinking any water. Had any of them been drinking water? He was a big guy, he could handle it, but Livia was tiny and Sophia was always on some bullshit diet, definitely prone to dehydration.

"Is Sophie dying?!"

"No one is dying," Vince groaned, pulling back so he could glare at Livia, "no one, you hear me? We just have a belly bug, it'll pass by tomorrow... I need you to drink some juice for me, Liv."

Her little face scrunched up in disgust as he picked up the abandoned Gatorade bottle on Sophia's bedside table, his teenage sister lying passed out between them, "I don't wanna..."

"I'm sorry, but you have to," he broke the seal and held it to her, "just one little gulp. C'mon."

It was with a lot of effort that he managed to get Livia to take two full gulps of it, then with even more so to have Sophia semiconscious enough to drink. He took a large gulp himself, despite it triggering his gag reflex, then yawned.

"Let's get you in bed, Liv," Vince stumbled up, holding his sister by the hand. She looked ready to fall asleep right there, in her robe, on top of Sophia.

They went through the third set of PJs of the night and finally Vince managed to tuck her in bed, dizzily trying to hold the thermometer to her ear. He lost it so many times that his little sister let out an annoyed groan and held it there herself, until they heard a beep.

101.2 Fº .... Was this good? Higher? Lower? He wasn't sure anymore.

Vince frowned, struggling to think, "did you take meds...?"

She nodded and Vince squinted at Livia, unsure if he believed her or not. Had it been before or after she threw up again. Could she take them again?

She yawned and Vince decided against the meds for now, hoping he was taking the right decision. He pressed a kiss to her brow, "I'm gonna be in Soph's room, okay? All lights are on."

"Okay," Livia was sleepy enough she didn't have any energy to ask him to stay.

It was a struggle to return to Sophia's bedroom. The hallway was spinning and he vaguely noticed he still needed to empty out the trashcan from both his and the girl's bathroom and get rid of the bucket filled with dirty water in the hallway...

Sophia's face was red thanks to the fever and Vince almost fell over her as he crouched next to her bed. She looked really warm, but when he pressed his hand to her forehead, she didn't feel all that warm. Her room was freezing.

Vince collapsed on her office chair, near her little study station and stretched out, planting a hand over his own unsettled stomach and trying to rub it. He still felt overstuffed and gross, even though he was more than empty. That one Gatorade gulp was sitting inside like a brick.

Vince dizzily fished out his phone from his sweatpants' pocket — had he gotten it wet? — then set up an alarm for 6 AM. He frowned at the hour, 4:40 AM.

He just hoped he felt better in two hours, otherwise they were doomed.

[dustofthedailylife]

texting Dan Heng "baobei, come over" when we need help with something,,,,, and him getting all flustered and shy sksksks

(baobei = treasure in chinese)

A/N: pls, the man would short-circuit- This also got longer than I expected... oopsies. Well, I hope you enjoy <3

"My Treasure"

ft. Dan Heng x (gn!)Reader || [Fluff] -> Masterlist || → Taglist

"Baobei, can you come over for a sec? I need your help with something."

What would be an entirely normal direct message on his phone in the eyes of anyone else, was exactly the opposite to him.

Why did you call him a term of endearment in his native language out of the blue? Who even taught it to you? And did you even know what it means?

He could feel his face heat up uncontrollably and he immediately locked his phone again, looking around in panic to see if anyone was looking at him right now. He wished to avoid anyone seeing his reddened cheeks at any cost.

Mr. Yang was currently reading through some magazines and Himeko was currently somewhere else on the train, as was March. Lucky.

He quickly got up and headed for your room, halting in front of your door and trying to recollect himself before daring to knock on it.

He was leading possible conversations with you inside of his head to be prepared for as many possible outcomes as he could think of, which in turn made him more and more nervous.

Were you going to ask him out? Did you return his feelings? Are you planning to confess? Did you just mean to tease him and he was overthinking it?

He was most likely overthinking it. Sure, he had a crush on you but there was no way you would be able to know. He made sure you wouldn't find out under any circumstance. He believed March had her suspicions about it since she kept hinting at things, but he made sure to seem as indifferent about you as he possibly could every time.

Little did neither he nor you know that March knew everything and was trying to play the wing-woman for you two; The two idiots being obviously in love but at the same time too dumb to confess to each other.

By now his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing at light speed in his chest and he hadn't even knocked on the door yet. At the same time, he had no idea for how long he had been standing there, just staring at your door, but if someone would spot him hesitating like that, while also being beet red in the face, they could put two and two together.

In hindsight, it probably would've been smarter to just knock instantly without overthinking and getting this over with. Especially since his cheeks had grown even redder while he had done so.

As soon as he heard the door to the wagon he was in being opened he snapped out of his trance and finally knocked. Mostly just because he feared it would be Himeko or March. He wouldn't hear the end of their teasing if they spotted him in front of your room this flustered. Upon hearing your voice call him in he slipped right in as fast as he could without seeming suspicious.

"Hi! There you are finally!" You cheered, running over to him with a tablet in hand.

You were trying to show him something and ask him some questions, but he was too distracted to listen properly. What didn't help was that he felt like he was burning up from the inside with all the blood that was rushing to his cheeks. Admittedly, standing next to you after you called him baobei in your DM earlier, he even started to feel a little lightheaded.

"Hey, Dan Heng?" You looked at him visibly concerned with furrowed brows. "Are you not feeling well? Your face is all red and you look a bit out of it?"

"W-wha? Hmm? No, I'm alri-"

He was, in fact, not alright in the slightest. Especially not when he was cut off when you brushed his hair out of his forehead to feel his temperature. The skin-on-skin contact made everything even worse. For someone who was so put together usually, he currently was everything but.

"Good lord. You're burning up! Come here, lie down on my bed for a second."

He could absolutely not do that. He needed to leave. Fast.

"No, I'll just go lie down in my room instead. Just message me if you need anything from the archives."

"Okay," you nodded happily. "See ya later, baobei."

He winced at the mention of the word directly in person. You too didn't miss it and furrowed your brows in concern once more.

"Uh, did I say something wrong?" You asked, seemingly catching onto the fact that the word you kept saying to him could possibly be the reason for his strange behavior.

"D-do you know what that word means?"

"What? Baobei?"

He winced again before nodding and averting his gaze.

"Well... March said it means something along the lines of 'Bestie', I heard it when we were on the Luofu and thought it sounded cute."

So she was responsible for this. March, you would have some explaining to do.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin/HSR or my fics are always appreciated!