#space grumps au

[dramaticalcorgi]

idk if this anon still follows me/is on tumblr but i hope they know the impact they made with this ask

[kjhmyg]

blooming

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k

a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3

the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.

upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 

but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 

“ahem⎼”

you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 

“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”

“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 

“why?” 

“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 

jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 

“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.

“is it really that deep?” 

you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.

he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 

“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 

jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 

“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 

jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 

he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 

“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 

“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 

jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 

he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 

he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 

“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”

“it’s earl grey.” 

your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 

“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 

after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 

“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 

before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.

upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”

he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 

“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 

“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 

jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 

sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

So here is another DPXDC crossover idea nice-ish pariah dark au pariah dark dad au pariah dark x clockwork gender-fluid Danny au ghost prince Danny au Danny x Damien Danny steeling lost artifacts from places so that they don’t get into the wrong hands and Gotham has a bunch

Danny has taken up the job of helping get lost artifacts from the zone back to the infinite realms and giving items lost the zone back to the families of those that lost them Danny is having fun evading the superheroes

Damien is having fun trying to catch the thief that was stealing supposedly cursed artifacts and is surprised when he finally corners the thief that it is a someone his own age and is even more surprised when the thief disappears the literally second he turns his back

Let's see what prompt I can come up with. ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

~

Chase Me, Catch Me, Will You Love Me?

When he was a child he dreamed of going to space being able to chase the vastness of stars.

After his accident that was a dream he had to give up, after that his life became too busy to really think about it.

Gaining powers

Fighting ghosts each day

Trying to do her best in school

Realizing her gender

Evading and escaping his parents

The GIW

He needed a break but not because of this

This being his parents finding out about them being Phantom and not taking it well.

Ha

'Not taking it well' was an understatement.

She fled to the Infinity Realms towards ClockWork. CW felt more like his dad than Jack had for a long while now. He was a bit suspicious when CW told him that the Zone had decided to rehabilitate Pariah Dark but so far he had been staying in line if a bit of a harsh grump and maybe a future parental figure with how he and CW seemed to look at each other when they thought the other wasn't paying attention.

But on the other hand she was thankful he was still king and not Danny, wow had that been a shock to her finding out he was almost king before he was even an adult, he was still titled prince but at least he wasn't the one in charge of everything.

Speaking of being in charge of things, they as a prince still had duties to fulfill, ClockPa had decided it was best for his growth that she return to Earth but not the same one where he would be in danger, no instead it was an Earth with multiple heroes and magic and even aliens!!!

The only thing he had to do was find haunted or ecto powered objects and either return them to their rightful owner or have it put somewhere secure.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

~

Damian had a new rogue, they called themselves Phantom and their crimes resembled greatly of Catwoman's only with seemingly spiritual centered objects.

He had already faced the teasing of all his siblings about how he was resembling father

...and as much as he hated agreeing with them, after almost a year of constantly fighting, chasing, bantering and most recently actually getting to talking he had learned that they were very close in age and had a lot of similar interest they could talk about together with for hours if given the chance.

Soon their dynamic slowly began shifting without either realizing it,

And well who knows what the future holds for them but until then,

The chase continues.

~

Fin

~

Hope you liked it Anon

~

Just an Idea

[slasherbvnnie]

Rated X

Hello! Enjoy this poly ghostface smut. Modern day AU, all characters 18+, the boys aren't killers, just psychos.

Word Count: 2882

“What about Texas Chainsaw?” “It creeps me out too much,” you said as the boys laughed. “You? Freaked out by Leatherface?” “I don’t like Marilyn’s screams,” you justified as Stu giggled. “Her screams make it the best part!” “You sound like a psycho,” you said as you threw some popcorn at him. “Night of the Living Dead?” Billy suggested as you sighed, “I’ll fall asleep,” Stu said. “Invisible man?” “*I’ll* fall asleep,” you said this time as you looked at the screen. “Prom night…two?” “Die,” Stu said as you giggled. “Stepfather!” He suggested as you looked up, “Penn Badgley’s?” You asked as both the boys looked at you questioningly. “I’m putting on X and nobody gets a say,” Billy huffed out as you and Stu looked at each other before agreeing and sitting back into the couch.

You relaxed into Stu’s hold, a strong arm wrapped around you as you three watched the movie. Billy was focused on the movie, Stu more so on the snacks laid out in front of them, but you were slowly drifting off into sleep after a while. Your eyes had closed, not sure how long you were asleep yet when you heard Stu’s ringtone. You looked up to him sleepily when he moved his arm and answered his phone. Billy had also looked over, seeing Stu sigh before rubbing his face, “yeah, I’ll be there,” he said before hanging up. He turned to the both of you, offering a half smile, “I gotta get back, my mom's car isn’t working so she needs to borrow mine to get to some meeting in the morning,” he said as you pouted. “It was supposed to be a sleepover,” you whined. “We can follow and bring you back here!” You suggested, looking to Billy who gave a nod. “C’mon, you know how grumpy the princess gets,” he said as Stu chuckled. “My mom would totally have my ass and guilt trip me into staying,” he said as he smiled, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Tomorrow I will come over and make it up to you, ‘kay?” He said as he held your chin, you pouting as you nodded. “yeah, okay,” you said as Billy hummed. “Be careful, Stu,” he said as Stu got up and smirked. “Don’t have fun without me, I’ll feel left out,” he teased as he got up from the couch. You watched him walk out and frowned before Billy kissed your cheek. “Sleepy?” He asked as you focused on him and nodded. “Let’s get you to bed before you become a total grump,” he said, squeezing your sides, earning a small giggle from you as you squirmed out of his hold.

Pretty soon you were in Billy’s room, cuddled up together under the blankets. You did miss the warmth Stu would have provided- he was practically a walking, talking space heater- but Billy was so warm tonight that you didn’t mind too much. “Bunny,” he called out softly to grab your wandering attention, “yeah?” you whispered back. “Get some sleep. We can pick up Stu in the morning,” he said as he pecked your forehead. “He’s never awake before noon,” you giggled, Billy smiling softly.

You were out like a light again but woke up when you didn’t feel as warm as before. You thought Billy had just taken the blanket from your side, opening your eyes and reaching out before feeling the comforter over yourself still. You frowned, looking into the darkness and noticing his outline missing. “Billy?” You whined out, usually he was a light sleeper and responded anytime he heard your voice, even the times you sleep-talked. You reached over for your phone, turning on the flashlight and frowning when you saw the door wide open, “Billy,” you called louder this time, wondering if he had gone to the bathroom. You sat up, waiting for him to walk in or respond before you heard the sound of groaning. “Billy?” You asked as you got out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to the hall. You could hear more groaning then what sounded like glass breaking from downstairs. You felt your body go cold, frozen in place as you stared down the hall and to the stairs. “A-are you okay Billy?” You asked, a shaky hand gripping your phone as you slowly walked down the hallway and the stairs. You moved your phone around, searching for him quietly. You walked into the living room, looking around before hearing footsteps behind you, turning quickly and coming face to face with a masked person. Just as you were about to scream you felt a pair of hands grab you, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other covered your mouth. You dropped your phone, screaming underneath their hands as you tried to kick at the other person coming at you. An all too familiar laugh sounded from in front of you, whining as they grabbed your flailing hands. “Woah there, princess,” they said, laughing as they lifted the mask. You stared at the taller person, eyebrows furrowing as the person behind you let go of you. “Assholes!” You yelled, hitting Stu’s shoulder before turning to see Billy and doing the same to him.

Both boys laughed, quieting when they saw tears that were pricking your eyes. “Oh, don’t cry, baby,” Billy said as you swatted away his hand. “Fuck off, you two suck,” you grumbled, picking up your phone from the floor. “Oh c’mon baby,” Stu whined as you glared at him. “I thought Billy fucking died, not funny. Shouldn’t you be at home?” You questioned as Stu grinned, leaning against the stair railing you were currently climbing up. “A part of the prank,” he said as you glared once again. “I’m going to bed, alone.”

“Oh, what, I can’t join?~” He teased as you shook your head. “Jerk each other off if you get horny, I’m tired,” you said as you went back into the bedroom. You lay down, cuddling back into the covers, heart still racing from the scare. The boys had gotten into pranks before, but not ones where you thought one of them died, they always had stupid and meaningless pranks, never this. So you gave them the silent treatment even when they went upstairs after a little while, ignoring them as they laid beside either side of you. You had to admit, it was hard to ignore them when you were sandwiched between them, but you were stubborn as hell.

Stu was the first to snake his arm around you, gently running his fingers along your back as you pretended to be asleep. “You really asleep, sweetheart?” Billy whispered in your ear as he pulled you to his chest. He was still warm, if you concentrated hard enough you could still smell his cologne from earlier in the day. “I think she is,” Stu said softly, gently tracing shapes on your back. “We should check,” He mumbled, moving closer, his lips pressed against your neck. He gave you soft kisses, you tried to keep your breath from hitching to alert them that you were indeed awake.

“Hey, hasn’t she told us before she really wanted us to do her in her sleep?” He questioned as Billy smirked. “Yeah,” he said, his grip on you tighter as Stu chuckled. “We should do it, you know, as a sorry,” he said as Billy moved you slowly, laying you on your back now. You felt them move, the bed dipping near your legs before you could feel warmth over you. This time you smelt Stu’s cologne, feeling his fingers dip into your pajama shorts as he slowly pulled them down. Billy’s breath seemed to hitch as he watched, his ring-clad fingers slowly trailing over your bare thighs. Stu was quick to move, positioning himself between your legs, Billy helping spread them as Stu kissed your navel. He slowly trailed the kisses lower, which made you do your best to not give yourself away. You bit down on your tongue as he pressed a kiss to your core, feeling Billy’s fingers trailing up your body now, reaching under your shirt.

Stu pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing gently as he let his tongue run down your folds. “Christ, s’wet already,” he groaned against your core, you wanted to squirm as he lapped at you. Billy squeezed your chest, running his fingers over your nipples as you moved your head a little. He chuckled, “I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered as he leaned down to your ear. “Could tell with how hard your heart’s beating,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your throat, gently nipping at it, causing you to whine out.

“There’s that pretty voice, sucha pretty girl,” Stu groaned against your pussy, you whined again, reaching down to grip his hair. Billy chuckled, moving to the side of your neck and giving you a hickey. “What happened to being mad at us?” He questioned as you pouted. “I can forgive both of you if you just fuck me,” you said, moaning as you felt Stu’s tongue enter you. You tried squirming away from the sudden pleasure, but his hands were quick to hold you in place.

“What are we? A piece of meat?” Billy laughed as you whined, gasping as Stu rubbed at your clit. “N-no, just- want both of you…” you moaned. He smirked, pulling away from your neck, hovering over you. “Is that why you were so sad Stu had to leave? Wanted both of our cocks in you?” He asked as you nodded eagerly. “Words, bunny,” he said as you let out a small wail as Stu switched his fingers and tongue, sucking on your clit. “Yes! Fuck, wanted- wanted it s’bad,” you moaned out, eyes closing as you felt another of Stu’s fingers enter you.

You pulsed around his digits, getting close to cumming from his movements before Billy moved. You felt his cold ring against your hand as he pulled it away from Stu’s head, whining at the loss of his mouth and fingers. But you were soon picked up into Stu’s arms as you felt the bed dip again. Billy’s lamp on his bedside table was turned on, you squinted from the sudden brightness, watching as Billy undressed. You bit down on your bottom lip as you saw his dick slap against his stomach when he took off his pants, his tip leaking precum before he climbed back into bed. Stu was also undressing, pulling you into his lap, his erection pressing against your lower back. You grew more wet as Billy covered between your legs, cupping your cheeks as he kissed you. “Think you can take both of us, sweet girl?” He asked as you nodded. “Want..want both of you,” you begged, Stu groaning in your ear as he pressed a kiss to the new hickey Billy made. “You’re such a good girl…you know that?” He asked, you blushed at his words before moaning as Billy ran his tip against your folds. He reached over, grabbing a bottle of lube, and coating his dick before tossing it to Stu. He leaned closer, kissing Stu as he uncapped it and lubed up his cock. You watched, growing wet at the sight of them making out, reaching behind you to Stu’s cock, gently stroking him. Stu keened into Billy’s touch, groaning into his mouth as you stroked him. “Fuck,” he said with a breathy chuckle when Billy pulled away. “Gonna put it in, okay baby?” Stu said as you nodded, relaxing as your back pressed to his chest. You felt his tip press against your hole, gently pushing into you. You put one hand on his thigh to support yourself, eyes closing as you whimpered from the stretch. “Feel so good, princess,” he hummed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

Billy smirked, watching the two of you closely, his fingers gently rubbing at your clit. You moaned, Stu moaning in unison from feeling you clench around him. Billy chuckled, “don’t bust already,” he teased as Stu shot him a glare. “Shut up, Loomis…” he said as you looked to Billy. “Please Billy,” you begged softly, Billy looking up to you through his lashes. If he wasn’t your boyfriend, if you didn’t find him totally hot, he would have given you chills with that stare of his. “What? Use your words, doll,” he said as you whimpered. “Need you in me too,” you begged, Billy twitched at the innocent tone of your filthy words. “God bunny, you’re gonna kill me,” he laughed as he kissed you again. He grabbed the bottle of lube, slicking himself up before pressing himself at your hole. “Relax for me,” he said softly, pushing in slowly.

Although you had taken them both before, the boys knew how spent you would be after this. The first time both of them were scared as hell of hurting you, doting on you for hours after to make sure they didn’t tear you or hurt you. It took them a day to leave you alone. Little had changed on the nights you took both of them, but they slowly became less scared after a few times, still waiting on you hand and foot after a session. The two gently studied your face as Billy slowly entered, Stu and you moaning in unison again from the stretch. Stu pressed his forehead against your shoulder, shuddering as Billy slid against him. Once Billy bottomed out you adjusted slightly, gasping at the feeling of both of them moving inside you.

Stu groped at your boobs as Billy circled your clit with his thumb, adding some pressure as he felt you loosen up more. Stu’s lips pressed against your skin, one hand holding your hip as you wiggled in their hold. “If one of you don’t start fucking me I’m going to die,” you whined, both boys laughing softly. “So needy,” Billy hummed. “Thought you wanted us to jerk each other off?” Stu asked in a teasing tone before you turned to glare at him. “You can still do that after you fuck me,” you said as he smirked. He gently thrusted up into you, eliciting a moan from your lips. Billy circled your clit again as he gently thrusted, following the opposite of Stu’s movements.

You started to feel your awareness and thoughts fall away at their touch, eyes closing as you were surrounded completely by the feeling of pleasure. Shock waves ran through your body as they moved, whimpers and pleads of stuttered words falling from your lips as you were littered with kisses everywhere. You reached one hand to the nape of Stu’s neck, the other gripping onto Billy’s shoulder.

Billy panted above you, his arms caging you in as he thrusted. Stu held onto your hips, helping give himself some leverage to move you enough to thrust up into you. You moaned as you felt the familiar burn in your stomach, your body feeling like it was electrified as they pushed in and out. They groaned each time you clenched around them, your body slowly reacting to their touch. “Fuck, gonna- Stu…Billy,” you whimpered out. Stu pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, Billy looking into your eyes. “Be a good girl and cum for us, baby. Wanna feel you squeeze our cocks,” he said, his words pushing you over the edge.

You let out a loud cry as you came around them, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body shook from your orgasm. You were practically deafened, not hearing the boys moan from the way you squeezed them. Stu was the first to cum after you, filling you up before Billy followed suit.

You whimpered at the feeling, looking up to Billy as he began to slowly pull out. You whined, pouting as he left the bed and headed towards the bathroom. Stu moved you slowly, pulling out before setting you down beside him. His hand gently rested on your cheek, trying to bring you back down to earth. You looked at him, eyes slightly glazed over as you gave him a tired smile. “There’s my pretty girl,” he said softly, Billy walking back in with a washcloth. “Gonna clean you up, you need anything doll?” He asked as you shook your head, “no, ‘m good,” you said softly, voice a little dry as you whimpered from sensitivity as he cleaned you up.

“You were sucha good girl,” Stu praised, littering your face in kisses, making you giggle and push at his chest. “Sorry for scaring you,” He said as Billy tossed the rag somewhere, climbing back in bed and pulling you close. “I forgive you, both of you,” you said as Stu sandwiched you between them again. “Next time we can try out the mask,” you hummed, both of them laughing. “Really?” Billy asked as you nodded. “Yeah, maybe we can make it a whole date. Y’know, running away from two masked psychos in the woods, being caught by them,~” you purred out, Stu rubbing your hip and pinching it slightly. “Keep talking and I’ll drag you out right now,” He said as you giggled, closing your eyes.

[wildemaven]

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it’s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

[luveline]

Not sure if I’m doing this right because I’ve never really taken part in one of these but please can I request something for zombie Steve and reader with the below prompt:

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —send me a hurt/comfort request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 2k or less

Maybe like, some time shortly after they started to become romantically involved or after he first calls her his gf, and Steve has a bad day and is a little short with reader and she’s worrying he’s regretting crossing that line with her but then he reassures her he’s not regretting it.

Sorry if I’m doing this wrong and no worries if you don’t like it, I just seriously love zombie Steve, especially when he’s a lil grumpy grump but always wants to make up for it afterwards 🥰

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you for your request, you did it perfect don't worry! steve zombie!au —steve gets stressed when food is in short supply, but he cares about you more than you think. fem!reader, 2.5k

cw starving / food insecurity

"I don't think we can make it another day if we don't find something tonight." 

Steve's shoulders go rigid at your statement, backpack reflecting glaring light.. It's dark as night, the room illuminated by two twin flashlight beams. New batteries have the lights constant and consistent. It's a shame you can't live off of batteries. 

You're hungry in a way you've never been hungry before. Never. You and Steve have been starving for days. You have a pounding headache leaking down into your teeth that's made you quiet and Steve is quieter, pointing his flashlight into the next kitchen cabinet. The only thing inside is dust, motes swimming in a sea of white. 

What's worse, you're terrified to hop houses at night, because from afar, deep in the forest surrounding the residential neighbourhood you're in, you've been hearing wolves. Deep howls chasing a filling moon. 

You're so hungry you've had to risk it. 

Your head is heavy on your neck as you look up into another cabinet. "We're gonna die," you say. You can't help it —maybe it's the genuine and inescapable despair of thinking you'll die, maybe it's his recent bout of loving affection, but lately all you do is complain. 

"We're not gonna die," Steve says. 

"You don't know that." 

"Yes, I do." 

"How could you? All these houses have been stripped clean, there's nothing left–" 

"I just know, alright?" 

He slams the cabinet door shut and stalks to the other side of the kitchen. These houses are huge, rich people places with endless bedrooms and their matching ensuites. He shoves his weight into the door leading to the garage. You don't have a choice, following him in. Steve wants space but he can't have it, splitting up makes you feel sick. 

Your hands under his t-shirt, his hands on your back. An admission. I've been calling you my girlfriend in my head for weeks. 

Your Steve's girlfriend. He's your boyfriend, and he's gonna get eaten by a zombie in a garage in the middle of nowhere suburbia and you'll be all alone without him. 

"Steve," you say, irritated. The garage is even darker than the kitchen, no windows for moonlight to crawl inside. He's turned his torch to the storage bins behind a black, sleek car. 

"What?" he asks, using the brunt of his palm to lift a lid.

"What do you mean, what? If I walked away from you like that you'd bite my head off."

"Jesus," he hisses, quickly turning his light away from the bin he's opened. "What the fuck?" 

You creep up behind him to direct your own flashlight. You don't want to talk about what you find inside. 

Defeated and distant and wishing things could be different, you and Steve clip your rucksacks at the waist and prepare to move in the dark from this shitty empty house to the next. You can't sleep; Steve won't say it, but you think he might be scared that you'll both be too weak to get up again if you lay down. This is the final push. 

You don't ask for his hand. He grabs one of your rucksack straps and you slink down the concrete steps of the house back onto the picture perfect streets. An entire apocalypse and the only evidence is smashed glass. The cold night bounces off of the sidewalk to chill your calves, your old jeans little defence against the cold. It's so, so cold lately. 

The next house is locked. You and Steve look at one another, and whether you can see him in the moonlight dregs or if your mind knows him well enough to fill in the gaps is anyone's guess. He looks reluctantly hopeful. 

You take a silent walk around the house checking for points of entry. When each door you come across is locked and each window tightly locked, you kneel at the garage door and force your icy fingers beneath the door. Steve helps, flat of his knife scratching the asphalt. You lose all the feeling in your fingertips as Steve struggles to get his hands under as well, but together you sigh, pained, and lift the garage door with the last of your strength. You army under first quickly, almost dropping the shutters as Steve follows. 

Fingertips aching with quick-blooming contusions, you attempt to help Steve stand. He ignores your offered hand. 

This house is the same as the other, so while it's dark, it's manoeuvrable. Same daunting marble staircases up on to a balconied landing. Across to the left is a lone bedroom with huge windows and a staircase to the attic, and across to the right a handful of equally spacious rooms. You hadn't bothered searching the bedrooms in the houses before, figuring that whoever combed the kitchens to the insane degree they have was as desperate as you are now, and would've already done so. 

But this house was locked. 

You're filled with aching hope. You need to eat. You don't want to die. You don't want Steve to die. If there's nothing here, you aren't sure you'll have the energy to search another granite kitchen. 

Steve wastes no time opening a cabinet. 

You both stand still in shock. 

Cereal. Boxes and boxes of cereal. 

"What do you think the sell by date is?" you ask. 

"I don't know." He pulls down a box. It's off by a year. Pulls down another. Off again. Something awful inside of you wants to tear into the cardboard and eat it anyways. Too bad food poisoning can kill you quicker than hunger. 

Steve leaves the cabinet door open and moves to the next, practically ripping it off of the hinges. Your torch beam shakes with excitement when you see the insides, golden cans stacked high. 

Steve picks one up. Tosses it aside. "It's cat food." 

Well, if all else fails. The thought makes you want to cry. 

The next cabinet is full of glassware, and the next china plates. Steve opens a fifth and sixth at the same time. It takes you a second to calibrate the sight in front of you. 

"It's not more cat food, is it?" you ask quietly. 

Steve breathes out hard, grabbing a handful of skinny cans, metal popping against the counter as he drops one. "It's fish. Tuna fish." 

And just like that, you get to live. 

The last cabinet has a short supply of soups and bare essentials, enough for a week between you both (rich people ate less processed foods, apparently). It's the fish that promises security, a hundred cans of bluefin, yellowfin tuna, a couple cans of caviar. 

You and Steve eat it in the kitchen with fancy spoons. The smell is undesirable but it doesn't make you feel sick until hours later, half asleep on the kitchen floor. 

You stand up, ushering him with you, and pull yourselves with heavy emphasis on the handrail up the stairs to the first bedroom you come across. You take your toothbrush from your bag despite the begging pull of sleep and brush your teeth, eager to escape the salty tang of fish. If Steve wants to kiss you tonight, you'd rather taste like Arctic Fresh than fish. 

"Can I have some?" Steve asks. 

You raise your brows, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. While he brushes, you construct a little lamp using the low-power torch and a half full water bottle. The room is far less intimidating after that, light reaching into the corners and exposing the raw wooden beams above. Steve spits his toothpaste into the wastebasket and leaves the room. He returns as you're taking off your shoes, disapproving as he drags a chair in. He hooks it under the door handle, jigging it to test. 

"I can't wear them anymore," you say. 

"Okay," he says. 

You'd hoped finding food would make him less snappy, but no luck. He's even quieter than before. 

You get changed in silence, like you've both decided now you're not hungry that actually you'd been kind of filthy. It's just… your reality. You want to be clean, and fed, and brushed, but you're grimy. You settle for another layer of deodorant and a fresh pair of underwear. 

Steve is looking at you, half-naked. He's allowed, it doesn't matter, but he averts his eyes when you catch him and doesn't speak to you again. Thankfully, your sated hunger removes despair to some extent. You climb into bed and Steve slides in next to you, and for a few hours, you sleep. 

Waking up is a new agony. 

You're bad at being separated from one another, and finding him gone fucks you up. Your heart immediately leaps into your mouth, a raw, beating thing. The daylight disarms you at first, blinking against it, but proves to be your friend when you find Steve's shoes at the end of the bed. It's a marker, a note from him to you: I'm still here.

He's leaning heavily on the countertop in the kitchen  with a notebook laid flat and a pen in hand, tallying up the cans.

"Hey, you scared me," you say, his shoes in one hand, yours in the other.  

"Sorry." 

You put the shoes on the counter. 

You hesitate to touch him first. You'd been thinking last night before you slept, his hand near your hip instead of on it, that Steve's finally realised he doesn't want to be with you. Like a near death experience, he'd had an epiphany. Why would he want to spend the bare strands of a life that he has playing house with you? 

He didn't have a choice. One sudden day and you were his burden.

Steve takes your hand without looking. Firm, he squeezes his fingers between yours and pulls you into his side. "It's a month's worth of food, easily. But it might make us kind of sick if we aren't careful. There's Mercury in it. Less than the cheap stuff, but we still shouldn't be eating so much." His arm presses to yours. He meets your eyes over his shoulder. "I hate fish." 

"You're talking to me today." 

He looks down at the notebook, his eyebrows pinching in like you've stepped on his foot. "I– sorry. I wasn't very nice, yesterday, I guess." 

You're relieved to hear his apology, not because you really even want one, but because it means he isn't as mad at you as you thought. "I was complaining." 

"It was all shit. You're allowed. I… was stressed." 

"It was all shit," you agree, explaining away his bad mood. But, last night, he didn't wanna hold you. It sounds pathetic but on a small scale, this is your life. Any change feels foreign. 

"I wasn't mad at you for complaining." 

You feel the back of his hand with your thumb. Fine hairs, skin rough from a few weeks of the elements. "Thanks for clarifying." 

"I'm serious."

"So am I." 

Steve looses go of your hand to put his arm on your shoulder. His fingertips skirt against your back, tickling gently. His eyes are serious but his mouth curves with a smile. "Why are you upset?" he asks. 

"I'm not." 

"I think I'd know." 

It seems silly now to tell him with his touch, his face this close to yours. You take in a shuddering breath and his expression pinches. 

Steve stands as close to you as he can without hugging you. "Hey, tell me," he says. 

You push your tongue against your teeth, thinking. Tears threaten to collect, a burning lump bobbing in your throat at his question. 

"Do you ever regret this?" you ask. "Sometimes I think you do." 

"This?" he asks.

"Me and you." 

Steve laughs, and that really is foreign what with the last few days of moroseness you've had. It's not a humoured laugh, just a shocked one, the sound inking his words as he says, "We're not something up for regretting." 

"What's that mean?" 

"It means," —Steve ducks his head a little, eye to eye with you as his arm curls behind your neck— "it's not even an option. Us, me and you, you alone, it's not an option. I don't regret what's happened or what's happening between us. I wish… I wish I'd been less of a dick to you. I wish I was nicer to you now, and that's a shitty thing to say, but this–" Hid eyes flare with annoyance directed inward. "I get fucking abysmally moody because I can't believe I'm this bad at taking care of you."

You lift your chin ever so slightly and Steve kisses you. Sweet but a little rough, like he'd been waiting for an offer. 

"I don't regret this," he mumbles, tapping the tip of his nose under yours. You lift your head, and he fits another kiss to the seam of your lips. 

"You didn't wanna hug me or anything last night–" 

He hugs you immediately. "I'm sorry," he says over your ear. "It was just a bad day." 

"But I'm here with you. I'm having the bad day with you, I want to be there for you," you say, semi-desperate. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, relaxing as your arms fold behind his back. 

Steve pets your back. You wish things were different, that he could be hugging you somewhere different. You can picture it, Steve dropping you off at some college class or putting his hand in your back pocket on the way to dinner. Things could be so much better and they never, ever will be. 

You don't ask, afraid to even suggest it if he hasn't thought of it, but you worry Steve is with you out of habit. Bad habits are hard to break, but anyone can stop smoking if they really want to. He could move on.

He must read your mind. 

"Sorry," Steve whispers, leaning back to kiss your cheek. "I'm a shitty boyfriend sometimes when I'm trying to be good at keeping us alive. You're the only good thing. I'm really sorry, honey." 

You nibble on the inside of your lip and hug him harder. "Stop saying sorry. You didn't do anything wrong, I just think too much." 

He breathes out in surprise at your ferocity, dropping his head into the curve of your neck. 

"I'm sorry," he says anyway.

Unbeknownst to you, it's in lieu of a different confession. 

You crack a smile. Steve pulls away to fret over your face uselessly, wiping away things you can't see and smiling back like a guy in the movies, all confident and flirtatious. It's a stark difference to the previous gloom. 

"Let's go find some water," he says, taking the side of your face into his palm. "I smell bad and you're shiny." 

"Nice, Steve."

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 9 all chapters

Thank you @treedaddymcpuffpuff for curating this beautiful pic!!!! 🖤🖤🖤

TW: sexual harassment, (not john!)

-The next day, you find that diabolical pain in your shoulder is actually gone. You’ve lived with it for a good six months at least. He actually fixed you. It’s such a relief you could cry. You take his advice, and start doing stretches in the morning and after work, so as not to squander his gift. Though, the thought of receiving another massage from those oh-so-capable hands keeps you up at night sometimes.

You wonder if something will change between you at the shop after your little birthday adventure together, but Mr. Wick doesn’t press his advantage, or act overly familiar. In fact, it’s almost like it never happened at all, and you are torn between relief at maintaining the comfortable status quo, or disappointment because…well.

And just what would that look like? you chide yourself. He’s at least twenty years your elder, capable, interesting, handsome as the devil and rich to boot. Do you think he would just sweep you off your feet and let you live in that beautiful cabin of his up on the mountain with him, away from it all?

What would you have to offer a man like that?

The answer, at least in your estimation, is not much, so you concentrate on not pining for him like a lovesick little fool.

Besides, you tell yourself. You’re going to Italy soon. Maybe you’ll meet someone on your travels to take your mind off the Byronically-broody older man who occupies the corner in your shop, and an unfair amount of space in your thoughts.

It doesn’t seem likely, but a girl can hope.

-You start to have a problem at work with your new shift manager. He just can’t seem to fucking restrain himself from making lewd comments at you. He says them jokingly, but it’s not funny, at all. You made the mistake of laughing along awkwardly the first time because you were so shocked and didn’t know what to do. Now he thinks he has carte blanche with you, or worse, that you’re flirting back.

Unfortunately, he’s the owner’s ne’er do well son. It was totally a pity hire, even though you’ve been there longer and are way more qualified for his job. You guess your habit of disappearing for a month to travel probably knocked you out of the running.

Since you’ll be leaving soon for Italy anyway, you feel emboldened to sit down for a second across from Mister Wick when he comes in. He looks at you inquisitively, but not like he’s annoyed you’re intruding.

“I don’t think I’m coming back after my trip,” you feel obligated to tell him, for some reason.

“You can’t leave.” He says it so quickly, and maybe there’s even a note of panic in it. There’s something a little fragile about this imposing man. You feel like maybe only you see it, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

“I just don’t think I can do this anymore. My boss is a creep.” You used to look forward to your job, but now you’ve started dreading coming into work when he’s on the schedule with you. You’re filled with anxiety all the time now, and it’s cut into your sleep because you keep having nightmares about it too.

Mr. Wick’s eyes narrow, and suddenly you are reminded of a wolf. “Is he bothering you?”

You make a face. “He just says gross stuff all the time. It’s wearing. But he’s the owner’s son, so I’m kinda fucked.” The fact that you’re cursing in front of a customer shows how worn down you are.

You’d tried to talk to the owner, Mark, and had been completely blown off about it with the usual tired excuses. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just joking.

Well, ha ha fucking ha.

It was a small indie shop, there was no HR. Your only real recourse, as far as you could tell, was to quit, but you wouldn’t have time to find another job before your trip, and you were counting on your next few paychecks to make ends meet.  

 “That shouldn’t matter,” Mr. Wick insists.

You sigh, because that is the world a Tall White Male occupies, versus your own situation.

The next day after the morning rush you are cleaning up your station when Kyle creeps up, making a gross comment about how he’s jealous of the way you’re “jacking off” the steamer wand as you wipe it down.

“Could you not say stuff like that to me?” you finally snap, exasperated.

“Come on, I was just joking,” he says with a leer, like it’s your fault that you’re uncomfortable.

“You will never speak to her like that again.”  

The voice from behind the two of you is cold as Siberian winter. Neither of you heard Mr. Wick approach. In fact, you didn’t even know he was in the shop. The look he is giving Kyle is pure murder. It’s not even directed at you, and you feel the chill to the marrow of your bones.

“S—sorry, sir. I was just—”

“No, you weren’t. Stop it.”

“Yeah. Ok, sorry.”

Kyle flees for the back, mumbling about having some paperwork to do. You breathe a sigh of relief, and there is some annoying moisture welling in the corner of your eyes.

“Thanks,” you sigh, and you are sorely tempted to leap over the counter and hug this man. He just nods sharply, and goes back to his table. Once again, you can’t help but feel like you have a guardian angel watching over you from the corner. If Kyle is smart enough to take the hint, it will all be fine.

But then you start to think about what just happened a little more.

You start to get an uneasy feeling, and you get Cassie to cover the register while you dare to seek out your dark savior outside as he’s making to leave in his Range Rover. “Mr. Wick?” you ask in hushed tones as he opens his door.

He cants his head in answer, turning to you.

“Please, don’t…light his car on fire or anything?”

He steps in close enough to you that you feel you are engulfed amidst the breadth of his chest and his downturned head. You can smell the warm, masculine spice of his cologne, and maybe you are a little idiot, knowing what you’re pretty sure you know about this man…but it takes every iota of your self-control not to lean into him.  

“I don’t know what you mean?” he says pointedly in a low voice.

“Just…” You make a fist of all the words you want to say, but can’t. You don’t know where you get the cheek to pound his chest with it in your frustration, even if very lightly. It’s like a stone wall beneath your hand, and for some reason that ties something low in your abdomen up in knots.

Maybe you wouldn’t be mad if Kyle lost his dick in an unfortunate petting zoo accident, but...you don’t want him dead. You feel a responsibility in this matter you didn’t with the predators in the van. “Please?”

He engulfs your small hand with his, holding it over his heart.

“I'm just going to go talk to the owner,” he assures you.

“That’s Kyle’s dad,” you inform him, again.

“I’m aware. I’ve dealt with situations like this before.” He smirks a little, and you don’t understand the joke. “If you don't push back on assholes like that, they think they run the world.” 

Wasn’t that the truth.

“Ok.” Then you realize, he might mean he’s going now. “Wait, it's his day off. He hates being disturbed at home.” 

The owner is kind of a big deal in your small town. His own father has been a local business owner and the mayor off and on for a long as you can remember. Their family is connected. You guess that’s why Kyle feels so free to act the way he does.

Must be nice.  

“That's too bad,” says John with a lift of eyebrow like he absolutely doesn't give a shit.

“Wait…how do you know where he lives?”

This seems to amuse him. “This isn't exactly a big place. And...that's kind of what I do. Or used to, anyway.” 

It's the most he's outright told you about his past. It gives you a little chill, and you wonder how much longer you’ll let yourself play dumb. He’s the kind of man who isn’t afraid to take the law into his own hands. He’s missing a finger, and though they’re long healed, you’ve noticed the faint scars on his gorgeous face. He’s gruff and forbidding with a body that could be chiseled from some kind of physicalwork, and eyes that are sharp as a falcon’s, and oh god you hope he doesn’t do anything drastic to persuade Mark to see things his way.

For you, a little voice in the back of your head reminds you. You are half afraid of what’s to come, and half…in love, maybe, if you’re being honest with yourself.   

“I'm so getting fired,” you sing-song under your breath.

“Then…you’ll just have to come work for me.” 

There is a breathtaking sparkle in his dark eyes he says this. It sends a delicious thrill shooting through you, and in a ditch effort to hide how thirsty you are for this man you narrow your eyes at him.

“There better not be an ulterior motive to this caper,” you grouse with no real venom. Then, curiosity gets the better of you. “What would I even do?” 

“I’ve been thinking…I might need a governess for Dog. All he does is eat and lay around all day. He needs some culture.”

You roll your eyes at this. 

“Oh, and pray what does the position of Governess to Master Dog pull?” you play along.  

“What sounds fair? 50 thousand per annum?”

If you were really committed to the bit, you would have swooned into his arms. It was all too tempting. The thought of going to Mr. Wick's beautiful home to play with Dog, as a job that paid a livable wage, sounds like a dream. With the added bonus of...him, at home, all to yourself. Just the thought makes a red-hot flush bloom from your neck to your cheeks.

John smirks down at you, but is kind enough not to call you out on it.

You can’t help but notice he is still holding your hand.  

It dawns on you that this is the first time he's ever been this playful with you. Does the thought of going into a confrontation excite him? It probably does, you realize. If he’d done the kind of work you expect he might have…life in Clear Forks must seem pretty boring, after a while.

You probably seem pretty boring too.

“Very funny, Mr. Wick. And a little mean, dangling that in front of me.”

“Who's being funny?”

But he says it with such a devilish smile, and you just can’t chance taking him seriously. It’s too…much.

You try to disguise your shuddering sigh, and fail, badly. You try to take back your hand, but he holds on, and you are unable to budge him. You can feel his heart beating against your fist. Steady, but fast.

He’s enjoying this as much as you are.

 “I'm probably not supposed to ask you this, but...were you a spy?”

This question sobers him a little, and he levels you with that look. You know it’s meant to be stern, but god. All it does is make you ache.

“You'd better get back inside, Miss y/n. But if fuckhead bothers you again, you tell me. Immediately.”

He says the words, but it still takes him a few seconds more to release you, those dark eyes boring down into yours.

“Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He nods before getting in his Rover.

You’re sorrier than usual to see him go.

As the day goes on and you remain unmolested, most of the tension in your shoulders lifts, and you almost feel normal again. You believe that everything will be fine, one way or another.

Of course, later, Fuckhead makes a point to tell you, as you're leaving at the end of your shift, that he's not scared of your old man. 

Easy to say, once Mr. Wick is far out of ear shot. 

However, in a week's time, Kyle is a no show. Suddenly he's decided to leave town—on a day he was supposed to open the shop, leaving his dad high and dry. Mark is livid and swears Kyle is disowned, and you get your little life back at the Clear Forks Coffee Co.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

summary: everyone with piercings knows, you always come back for more; but this time you might have found a different reason to return again

pairing: piercer!xiao x gn!reader; feat. venti, heizou, scaramouche, kazuha, aether

warnings: piercings, tattoos, needles; xiao in *that* top yes that’s a warning; xiao with piercings and tattoos that is definitely a warning; this is purely self-indulgent and i couldn’t be any less sorry; i simp for xiao, so the reader does too; this is my xiao, everyone back off >///&lt;

a/n: deep down i always knew i had to write this but @kazu-sun slapped me awake yesterday, scara and al-haitham just had to take a backseat; since this xiao is absolutely superior and occupies most of my brain space, i kind of want to turn this into a series or at least write more for this; also considering writing for all of the boys within this ‘universe’

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

It was hard not to get excited with how your best friend, Venti, was dragging you along, his giggles making your own bubble over.

“Come on!! Hurry up!!” He giggled, pulling your arm further towards him. “Ohh, I can’t wait for you to meet the guys!!”

“Aren’t we here so I can get a piercing?” you mused. 

“That too,” Venti replied cheekily. “I’ve wanted to introduce you guys for ages now, let me have some fun.”

You had always had a particular weakness for your friend and were never able to be upset with him in the first place. The only problem was that he knew it too and had no shame using it to rope you into all sorts of trouble. 

So, when you told him you were contemplating getting another piercing, he was over the moon, hyping you up and already calling his friends to schedule an appointment at their studio. Somehow it seemed Venti was more excited than you and you didn’t find the heart to stump his enthusiasm. Besides, having someone who supported you so fully was really reassuring and stopped you from going back and forth on your decision as usual.

Said someone was currently giving you his brightest grin as he pushed open the glass door to a modern piercing and tattoo studio. With the chime of the bell, 4 heads snapped into your direction; 3 were looking up from their work in the lounge while a white haired man  poked his head into the hallway.

“Ah Venti, you’re finally here.” A long-haired blond was smiling at your friend from behind a counter, clicking away at a keyboard. “And you must be his best friend? Nice to meet you, Venti already told us loads about you.”

“Yeah, he basically didn’t shut up,” someone scoffed. It was a guy with dark blue hair cut in a style you didn’t think anyone else could pull off. Turning back to his work and only showing you the back of his head, you saw a sliver of ink peek from beneath his collar.

“Oh don’t be like that, Scaramouche,” an auburn-haired man sniggered. When he looked over to you it was hard not to be drawn in by his bright olive eyes, accentuated by a mole underneath each one. “I’m Heizou. The grump over there is Kunikuzushi but he goes by his artist name most of the time. Don’t mind him, he always gets like that when he’s working on something.”

“If everyone’s introducing themselves, I don’t want to miss out. My name’s Aether.” He beckoned you over, handing you a few papers. “You’re here for a new piercing, right? I just need you to fill out these. How are you feeling? Did you eat and drink enough?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sliding the forms back over the counter, you gave him a timid smile. “I can’t help but get a little nervous every time though.”

“That’s alright. You’re in good hands here, I promise.” Aether’s soft way of speaking helped ground you a little again. “Plus, you have a cool new piercing to look forward to, can’t blame you for getting excited.”

“Speaking of which,” Venti sing-songed as he threw an arm around you, “which one of you will have the honours of stabbing my bestie’s ear with a needle?~”

Elbowing him in the ribs, you murmured a low “You’re not helping, you know.”

Pointedly ignoring Heizou’s cheeky ‘I certainly wouldn’t mind’, Aether rolled up a newspaper and gave Venti a light-hearted twack on the head “Nobody’s getting stabbed in our studio, you idiot. But to answer your question, we scheduled them with Xiao.” Addressing you, he added “Xiao is our best piercer, he’s got lots of experience. You won’t feel a thing.”

“Oohhh~” your friend cooed. “Hehe, it’s true though, Xiao’s really good at it. He did most of my piercings too.”

At that you relaxed a little, although nerves were still thrumming through you. Seeing a new piercer for the first time always added more restlessness to your mind but you were willing to trust your friend’s appraisal and Aether sounded genuine as well. That was when a smooth, low voice cut through your thoughts.

“Yes, and you’re always one of my most annoying clients.” Whirling around, you came face to face with a young man, his black and teal hair tied into a messy ponytail, leaving only his bangs to frame his face, half of which was covered by a black mask. It only served to highlight the intense amber eyes scrutinising you from head to toe and back up. As he turned his face towards the blond behind the counter, the studio lights reflected off the multiple piercings decorating his ears. “And you, stop lying to our customers. It’s a piercing, of course it’s going to sting.”

While Xiao and Aether were bickering about ‘soothing a client’s nerves’, your heart rate skyrocketed and you were surprised the muscle still sat within your rib cage. This guy was undeniably the hottest man you had ever seen. And when he shrugged off his jacket to reveal an elaborate sleeve tattoo, it didn’t help your case. The view on the art was granted to you by the sleeveless, high-neck, tight-fitted black top perfectly showing off his defined muscles.

You were about to tell Aether you weren’t feeling so good today after all, surprised you hadn’t fainted yet. It probably wasn’t ideal that you could feel all your blood rushing to your head, heating your cheeks and ears. But then again… you couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Not that Venti would let you anyway.

“Whatever,” Xiao scoffed. Extending one hand towards you, the other went to take off his mask, revealing that the other half of his face was just as gorgeous as the rest. “I’m Xiao, as you’ve probably already heard from these idiots.”

“Nice to meet you.” As you shook his hand and told him your name, you missed the gleeful looks Aether, Venti and Heizou shared. Even Scaramouche raised an eyebrow before promptly going back to sketching. 

“Alright, are you ready to get started?” When you nodded, he tilted his chin to the rooms behind Aether. “Come with me, then.”

Tugging you into a side-hug as you walked past, Venti called after his teal-haired friend,  “Don’t be too rough with them, you hear me?”, earning him a few giggles from Heizou, an eye roll from both Aether and Scaramouche and a stare from Xiao which you were sure could’ve sent him straight to his grave then and there. Still very much alive though, Venti whispered to you, “I’m only joking, you can trust him, really.”

“Wait, didn’t you say you’d come with me?” You incredulously asked.

“Ah well,” Venti loudly proclaimed, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “since I am apparently so annoying, I believe it’s best to let Xiao work in peace. Besides, I have some catching up to do here.”

Following Xiao to the backrooms, the last thing you heard from the lounge was Heizou’s snide “Doesn’t that just mean you’ll be annoying us instead?”

Your piercer pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do you tolerate that regularly?”

“That,” you pointed a finger at him, “is the million dollar question. But don’t you have to put up with all of them on a daily basis?”

“Unfortunately.” Despite his demeanour you could hear a certain fondness in his voice. He nodded towards something which starkly reminded you of an examination table as he pulled on black latex gloves. “Have a seat and get comfortable while I prepare everything.”

Taking off your jacket you did as you were told. After looking around the small room, your eyes settled on the most interesting thing in there. Xiao. Or more specifically the way his biceps and triceps worked underneath the ink of his tattoo, quickly averting your gaze and examining your nails when he stepped closer with a marker in hand.

“I’ll draw a little dot first to mark where the piercing is going to be. If you don’t like the location, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay? We’ll redraw it as often as needed to make sure you’re happy with it.” You noted he spoke much softer now, his tone not as gruff but still as melodic, making butterflies flap their tiny wings in your stomach.

It was only when he leaned in close that you realised just how difficult this was truly going to be. His slender fingers held your chin gently to angle your head to his liking as he fixed his bright eyes on your ear, brushing every possibly disturbing hair strand behind it. Was now the right time to notice his fluttering long lashes or the perfectly drawn eyeliner accentuating his features? You weren’t sure but you did nonetheless.

Pulling back too soon for your liking, his cologne lingered in the air as he twisted to hand you a mirror. As your fingers brushed, you could feel the heat of his skin even through the gloves he wore and it was making your head spin.

Moving your head around a little, you had to give Venti and Aether credit. They weren’t lying when they said Xiao was a true professional, not that you had expected anything else but how he managed to hit the exact spot you had envisioned on the first try was still beyond you.

Smiling up at him, you handed the mirror back. “It’s perfect.”

“Good to hear.” The corners of his mouth twitched up a little and you quickly found yourself becoming fond of the sight. “It’s on to the main event then. Still feeling alright?”

“Yes, let’s get this over with before I chicken out.”

He chuckled as he prepared the needle. “I won’t lie to you and say it’ll be completely painless, I mean you have a couple of piercings already, so you know. But I’ll do my best to make it as bearable as possible for you, okay?”

You only hummed as you prepared yourself for the sting. It wasn’t so much the actual needle as just your imagination making your stomach churn. As Xiao levelled his face with yours again, though, it was suddenly very easy to focus on something else. 

The feeling of his fingers on your chin, even through the waxy material, sent sparks racing across your body. This time, however, it was his breath fanning across the side of your face and neck which sent your mind into overdrive. Together with the proximity of the rest of him, it made for a dangerous combination, making your thoughts run into all sorts of directions.

Flinching as the jewellery was being pushed through, you were quickly brought back to reality though. 

“Sorry about that,” Xiao murmured.

“No, it’s fine. Just caught me by surprise, that's all.”

When he pulled back once more, he gave you a true -albeit small- smile and you thought you must be melting, easily ignoring the throbbing in your ear. “The good news is that you’re all done. You did so well.” Passing you the mirror one more time, Xiao tilted his head as if in contemplation before speaking decidedly. “Looks to me like I did my job right. It looks good on you.”

He was trying to kill you, no doubt about it.

As you regained your composure, Xiao put a hand on your shoulder and lightly pushed you back down on the table when you tried to stand. Handing you a glass of water, he said “Just stay seated for now. I’ll go finish up the paperwork while you calm down and then I’ll come get you.”

“Okay.” Even in your own ears, your voice sounded so small.

Just as promised, Xiao came back a couple minutes after he left you to your own devices. A few minutes in which you heavily debated asking him for a date or his number. If it was anyone else, you might have decided to shoot your shot. But… this was Venti’s friend. There was a possibility you’d inevitably have to see him again. Besides, he definitely seemed the type to be hit on a lot. So, you thought it better to do nothing.

“Aha, still in one piece I see~”

“Of course,” your piercer scoffed. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Now, now, Xiao, Venti is only teasing you. No need to rip his head off.” It was the white-haired man you had only seen briefly before. Otherwise you might have noticed the vibrant streak of crimson running through his locks. “So you’re Venti's friend? I’m Kazuha; looks like I’m the only one who didn’t get to meet you earlier.”

“Seems so.” Kazuha had an infectious sort of smile you couldn’t help but mirror. Two hands on your shoulders quickly spun you around and you blinked rapidly to focus on the blue-green eyes of your best friend.

“Let me see the new addition,” he exclaimed before grinning smugly. “I told you getting a new piercing was a good idea, it’s really pretty.”

“Personally, I think they do most of the heavy lifting in that department,” Heizou winked at you, “but the jewellery obviously enhances that.”

While chaos ensued within the studio over Heizou’s remark, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Xiao was quietly slipping the receipt over the counter, fiddling around with his hands and not quite meeting your eyes. After you handed him the money, he told you to come back in about four or five weeks to check in on the piercing and switch it for one with a shorter bar.

“If you have any trouble at all, feel free to come in and have someone look over it, lest it gets infected,” he sternly said. Then he placed a small plastic bag with a piercing inside in front of you. “Here, this is for you.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Maybe it was your imagination but just as a simmering heat flushed back into yours, you thought you saw a light blush settle over Xiao’s cheeks.

Despite not really wanting to leave yet, you said your goodbyes, gaze lingering a little longer on Xiao who held it. As you walked along the street you could feel Venti almost burst with anticipation next to you.

“Spit it out, idiot.”

“So, someone has the hots for a certain piercer,” he squealed excitedly. “Don’t even try to deny it, it’s sooo obvious.”

“Whatever, it’s not like anything is going to happen anyway,” you sighed, still lost in your little daydream.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Venti smugly replied as he grabbed the tiny package in your hand. “Accepting the risk of you giving another stellar impression of a tomato, allow me to point out… this.”

Turning the bag around, your eyes widened at the neatly written number followed by the only name you wanted to see sprawled underneath.

“Xiao, did you seriously just give away jewellery for free just because you have a little crush?!” Rolling up the newspaper again, Scaramouche used it to hit the aforementioned man over the head.

“Relax, it was only one piercing,” Kazuha said, tone placatory.

“He’s right. Besides,” Heizou chuckled, “can you blame the guy? Man, to think that we’d ever see the day… Xiao in love…”

Wordlessly, Xiao held out his hand towards Scaramouche. It was his turn with the newspaper.

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

tag list: @mccnstruck @teyvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife

[jobean12-blog]

Motorcycle Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Warning: 2,062

Summary: You and Joel finally find the time to get away to the beach. 

Author’s Note: Here he is again! I love him so much and after last nights Met Gala I’m just losing my mind. Hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it’s soft and sweet and fluffy and lots of fun and flirty! 

The below edit is NOT MINE: it was graciously done by my love Ellie @mrsmischief209 and it’s so beautiful and perfect and I love it and thank you so much!!!💕💕 He’s a dream! 😍

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Hey darlin,’ hand me that socket wrench will ya please?”

“Darlin’.”

You don’t hear a word he’s saying, your eyes locked on the large hand he’s holding out for the wrench, strong with long fingers and big knuckles and veins popping across the top.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Huh?” you answer, blinking. “Oh yeah, sorry. What did you want?”

He stands from his kneeling position by his bike and studies you with narrowed eyes.

“I wanted you to pass me the socket wrench sweetheart.”

“What’s that again?”

Joel frowns before grabbing the wrench and holding it up.

“This one. You know what it is. You knew it perfectly after the last time I showed you.”

“Oh right! Of course,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

At his continued frowning you blurt out, “I was staring at your hands.”

His lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I was distracted…that’s why I didn’t pass the wrench. I noticed you have hands.”

“Darlin’” he murmurs as he steps into your space and amusement dances in his eyes.

“You’re right about that. I do have hands.”

He lifts his hands in front of his body and wiggles his fingers playfully.

“Joel,” you huff with a roll of your eyes. “I mean you have nice hands. I love your hands. In fact…they’re one of my favorite things about you.”

“I have nice hands,” he repeats, backing you toward his bike with a sexy smirk.

You hit the seat with a start before grabbing the leather.

“Thought my sunny disposition would have been your favorite thing about me,” he states, clearly holding back a full-on grin.

“You’re a total grump,” you say quietly, eyes falling to his lips, “but not with me.”  

You stare at his mouth then let your eyes wander over his beard, the small patches of gray hair causing you to drag your bottom lip over your teeth.

“What is it now darlin’?” he asks, his voice low.

“Nothing…just that…” you begin but trail off when he lifts you by the waist to sit on his bike.

“Go on,” he prods.

“I love your beard too.”

“I do have one of those.”

“Joel…don’t tease me.”

“But I love teasin’ ya darling. It makes you smile. I love when you smile.”

“You’re supposed to be fixing your bike so we can leave for our trip,” you tell him.

You push on his chest but he doesn’t stop his advance and once he’s settled between your spread legs he smooths his hands along your curves and slips his fingers under your shirt to feel your skin.

“We aren’t on a schedule,” he murmurs before his lips press to your throat.

Your fingers curl into his tee shirt and you crane your neck back.

“But if we don’t fix it soon we’ll miss time at the beach and…” you breathe out.

His thumb slides across your jaw to pull your bottom lip free from your teeth and he brushes his lips to yours.

“Still plenty of time for you to enjoy my hands,” he whispers against your mouth, “and my beard.”

Carrying only your beach bag you head down the sand, Joel behind you with everything else.

“I can help,” you say as you turn to look at him.

“I’m good sunshine. Just keep walking, I’m enjoying the view.”

You roll your eyes playfully but do as he asks while adding a little extra sway to each step.

The beach is fairly busy, blankets and umbrellas dotted along the stretch of golden sand, but you find a small spot not close to anyone and drop your bag.

Joel steps next to you and unceremoniously drops everything else onto the sand then grabs your ass. You squeal and swat his hand away but he grabs you around the waist and drags you into his chest for a kiss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t help it.”

Once your chairs and the umbrella are set up you sit and let out a contented sigh, looking out over the blue-green ocean under a cloudless sky, the soft sand sparkling white-gold and the gentle waves kissing the shore.

A large hand closes around yours and a calloused thumb grazes your knuckles.

“It’s so beautiful,” you muse, turning your eyes to him.

He smiles knowingly and brings your hand to his lips. You sit in comfortable silence for some time before he asks, “want to go for a walk?”

“I’d love that.”

You grab your bag and search for your sunblock, wanting to cover up before you go and when you look back at Joel, he’s shirtless.

“You need sunblock,” you say, eyeing him.

“So do you,” he responds, his eyes glittering even behind his sunglasses.

You move behind him, his broad back stretched before you, smooth tan skin over toned muscle and one tattoo on his right shoulder and another lower on the left side.

After warming the sunblock in your hands you press your palms to his strong back and smooth the lotion over his skin. When you slide your hands up to his shoulders you being to knead your fingers and thumbs into his tight muscle.

He grunts. “Fuck darlin,’ feels good.”

You push harder, working out the knots.

His sound of deep pleasure makes you smirk and you continue to massage him. You lean closer, pressing your breasts to his back.

“You’re asking for trouble sunshine,” he warns, turning his head to meet yours for a kiss.

You pull away but only so you can throw him a wink before finishing his sunblock. You take your time and pleasure in doing his arms and chest even though he can do them himself and when it’s your turn his grin turns wicked.

Just as he rubs his hands together, covered in lotion, you hear a shrill female voice and it jolts you from your moment. You glance in front of you and see a woman you don’t know, walking toward you.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” she answers, glancing at you dismissively before turning her full attention to Joel.

“Do you think I could borrow your sunblock?” she asks with a saccharine tone.

You glare at her in disbelief but your eyes slide to Joel to see his reaction.

His lips twitch and you know he’s fighting to suppress a laugh.

“Darlin’?” he asks, turning to you. “Do we have enough to spare?”

“We should,” you answer, turning to the woman. “I can bring it over as soon as we’re done.”

“Oh,” she says, finally turning back to you. “I didn’t realize you two were together.”

You guffaw under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest defensively then notice that Joel’s grin is wider now.

Ignoring her disregarding attitude you smile brightly. “I’ll bring it over as soon as my husband is done.”

Joel nearly chokes on his laughter but quickly covers it up with a clearing of his throat.

The woman throws you a strained smile and mumbles out a “thanks” before walking back to her blanket and her friend who has been watching the scene unfold.

Silence reins between you until she’s out of ear shot and then Joel bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god!” you seethe quietly.

Joel tries to cover his increasing chuckles.

“Oh…” you mimic in a cringy voice, “I didn’t realize you two were together…”

Your hands drop to your sides. “Is she fucking kidding me!”

Joel’s expression softens. “You called me your husband.”

“Well,” you start, suddenly feeling nervous. “I just needed to stake my claim. I don’t want her thinking she can come over here and steal you from me! A woman sees a hot man with tattoos and jewelry and well…”

Joel moves behind you and presses his large hands to your back, lining his body up with yours as close as he can while still being able to rub the sunblock on you.

His lips meet the shell of your ear as he caresses your skin.

“Darlin,’ there’s no woman on this planet that could take me away from you and I promise you that. I’m yours and if you want me forever, I’d gladly take that too.”

You shiver despite the warm sun and whisper his name, at a loss for more than that.

He makes sure to cover every inch of your exposed skin, paying close attention to the areas around your ass and chest not covered by your suit, claiming he doesn’t want you to get a burn…anywhere.

“Guess I have to go deliver this to your girlfriend,” you tease, holding up the bottle of sunblock.

“Want me to do it?” he asks.

“NO!” you say adamantly, then add more quietly, “I don’t want her getting another eye full. If she’s gonna look she can look from afar!”

You can still hear Joel’s laughter as you walk away and toward the woman and her friend, two pairs of lips pressed into a thin line as you approach.

“Here you go,” you say cheerily. “No need to return the bottle. My husband said he has another bottle on his bike.”

“The motorcycle parked up there is his?” the friend asks as she leans forward.

“Yep,” you say, popping the p before waving and turning on your heel to walk back to Joel.

Joel watches you the whole time and the moment you’re in reach he grabs you and wraps you in his arms.

“All good?” he asks as he runs his nose along the curve of your shoulder.

“Yes,” you gasp. “But when I told them you had extra sunblock on the bike I thought they were gonna lose it.”

You pull back to look him the eyes, using a sensual and breathy tone when mocking, “the motorcycle parked up there is his?”

You then proceed to swoon in his arms, laying over them and fanning yourself.

“Mm women love the bike,” he snickers.

“Yeah well…,” you pout.

“No one else is getting a ride but you,” he says softly but assuredly.

One of his hands slides down your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine until they settle just above your ass.

“Are you trying to put on a show?” you giggle.

“Nah, just can’t keep my hands off you.”

You give him one more kiss before taking his hand and pulling him down toward the water. The wind is salty and warm but the water is cool at your feet as they sink into the wet sand.

In the middle of your conversation a gust of wind picks up the hat from your head and whips it off, sending it rolling down the beach.

“Shit,” you mutter before taking off after it.

It continues to bounce down the sand toward a guy running on the beach. He sees it and grabs it before it flies into the water.

“Thanks,” you call then you slow down as you get closer.

He’s young and handsome and shirtless.

“Good thing I was running this way,” he says, barely out of breath.

You take your hat from him and he grins.

“Yes, thank you,” you say again.

“Just visiting?” he asks.

“Actually yes, I’m on a little getaway with…”

You don’t finish the sentence because Joel rushes up behind you and says, “her husband,” in a deep and possessive voice.

“Ah, I see,” the guy says with a smirk. “Well, you two enjoy your time and keep hold of that hat. I’m not running back this way.”

With a playful wink he waves goodbye and jogs off.

“What was that?” Joel asks, hands on his hips.

“That was the guy who grabbed my hat before it flew into the ocean,” you state nonchalantly.

“Uh huh,” Joel grumbles. “He also couldn’t stop his eyes from looking over every inch of you.”

“Oh you mean like your girlfriend back there,” you counter, trying not to laugh. “Jealous…husband?”

“I’m really lovin’ the sound of that,” he growls.

“Of course you do,” you tell him, lowering your lashes.

“I know what I’ve got and I know other men want it,” he says as he reaches out to pull you into him.

His hands move down your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before pulling you deeper against him, his body hard and warm. Bending his head toward you, his lips a whisper from yours, he murmurs, “but you belong to me.”

@sstan-hoe @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814​ @pedritosdarling​

[luxyue]

knife boots — part iv.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous | next

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ loop ❞ an edge jump, taking off from a backward outside edge, and landing on the backward outside edge of the same foot.

iv. sigh, they're so oblivious

“Do… I have something on my face?”

A gentle voice interrupts your train of thought, which may or may not have been full of fantasizing about a certain dark-haired man who has literally been in front of your face this entire time.

“Are you okay? You seem, I don’t know, more spaced out lately.”

“Oh, umm...” Oh, if only he knew.

You told yourself that he was off-limits. That you were training together and that was it. That everything was strictlyprofessional.

But, unfortunately for you, the little crush that you had harbored for him during your first few years as a competitive skater has come back. Hitting you hard. Harder than your head has ever hit the ice during a bad practice. Lucky you.

It doesn’t help that he’s been noticeably kinder to you, ever since you begged him to help you. Although, that’s more likely because Xiao is actually kind of a nice person. Over the past few weeks, he’s probably been the harshest coach you’ve ever had… and he’s not even your real coach. But it’s evident that he truly cares about your well-being and progress.

Strangely enough, Zhongli, your actual coach, seems perfectly content with your arrangement, so much so that sometimes you barely see him throughout your day. Leaving you and Xiao alone. For hours.

Boop.

A finger pokes harshly at your forehead.

“What the heck—”

“Do we need to get you to the infirmary or something?” Xiao says.

What surprises you isn’t the fact that he just… poked your forehead, but rather the fact that he sounded genuinely concerned for you. Like, really concerned.

“I’m alright! Um, excuse me, just one second…!” And then you run off, faster than he can say ‘axel’.

Xiao is confused, to say the least.

…

You enter a safe zone that is definitely out of Xiao’s sight (the girls’ locker room), letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Holy mother of—Ganyu! Hi!” you exclaim, not realizing that there was, in fact, someone else in the locker room.

“Sorry if I scared you,” she replies sheepishly. Ganyu also trained at the rink very frequently, although you didn’t see her in the mornings often. You vaguely remember her saying something about how she values her sleep more. You can’t blame her.

“Weren’t you with Xiao just now?” she wonders.

“Well, I was…” you’re not really sure how to explain what just happened.

“Is he being mean again? We all know he’s sort of a grump, but if it’s really that bad, I’m sure you could talk to Zhongli,” she suggests.

“Oh! No, actually, he’s been pretty nice to me, to be honest,” you say.

Ganyu looks at you, puzzled. “Xiao and the word nice don’t really go together. Sure, he’s not really mean either, but… what’s the word… he’s just, aloof. Shenhe, Keqing, and I have known him for years, and the most we say to each other is probably only ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’,” she explains. “That’s why the three of us were so surprised when we realized how often you two have been together.”

You blink at her, unsure of what to say. Perhaps Ganyu’s words would only make you more delusional about him. Who knows.

“I can’t say he hasn’t had his asshole-y moments… but he’s not all bad. He’s helped me a lot, and… I owe him a lot, too,” you say.

She hums. “I can see that. Your triple lutz is looking amazing, by the way! I can’t believe you recovered all of your jumps so quickly. Honestly, I think he probably likes helping you. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him to have gone so long without a friend.”

You hesitate. “I’m not sure if he even considers us friends, to be honest…”

“Hm. Well, if anything, I think you’re the closest thing he has.”

“That’s… thanks, Ganyu.”

…

“Y/N! You’re okay. What was that, earlier?” Xiao exclaims, skating up to you. He’s close.

Like, really, really close.

Luckily for you, he seems to realize, and hurriedly backs away from you.

Luckily for him, you don’t notice the tinge of red on his cheeks, either.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry—and sorry about all of that, I think I was just tired. Anyway, ready to see me face plant attempting triple lutz-triple loop combos? Because I am—”

“Y/N, if you’re really that tired, then you should rest. There’s no use overtraining yourself,” he says sternly.

“Xiao, it’s alright, seriously.” You can’t help but add on, “Plus, I’m afraid my training partner will miss me, you know?”

This time, you do notice the violent shade of red that overtakes his face. You just don’t realize it’s not from training.

“Your face is all red. Maybe you should take a break,” you tease.

“That’s not… I’m fine. Anyway, you left your phone. It was ringing like crazy earlier,” he says, using the excuse to try to change the subject.

That’s odd. You changed your number when you moved here, and most of the people with your new one are all at the rink with you.

Curiosity killed the cat, and you check it. Thirteen missed calls, and a text from an unknown number.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, sensing your fear.

“It’s probably just spam or something,” you assure him.

It’s not.

‘They know, Y/N. Be safe. xx, CAT’

They know.

They know. They know.

Theyknowtheyknowtheyknowtheyknow.

Everything goes dark.

You’re lucky, though, and Xiao is there to catch your fall.

[vinnie-w]

【 Alhaitham x Single Mom! Reader 】

➥ AU: Modern AU

➥ SYNOPSIS: Alhaitham and Baby Farah in the pool!

➥ WC: 1085

➥ A MOTHER'S LOVE ( MASTERLIST )

"No need. You've been working by yourself for days now, the least I could do is let you relax for a bit." He states, feeling his lips quirk up slightly as he lays a hand on Farah's back preventing her from falling.

You smile at the domestic scene in front of you, Alhaitham looking down at Farah as she relaxes in his arms and stares off into space. "Fine." You sigh, "Are you really sure though?"

"Of course. I don't mind staying inside, I much prefer it actually." Alhaitham states.

"Ah.." You mumble, nervous. Glancing at the side while rubbing your arm. "That's, uh. Gonna be a problem then."

"Hm, how so?"

"Well..."

Alhaitham sat grumpily in the kiddie pool with Farah on his lap, happily splashing at the water around them. He leans back dodging the harder splashes.

"You doing okay there?" He heard someone ask before turning to his side to see you, a white shirt over your swimsuit. You laugh slightly at his ears turning pink before sighed.

"I'll be fine." Said Alhaitham before getting splashed in the face by a giggling Farah, he tries to rub the water out of his eyes before realising his hands were wet as well.

You laugh, cupping his face with one hand and the other using your shirt to wipe him.

"Thank you.." He mumbled, leaning into your hand. You peck his forehead and mutter, "No problem, habibi."

"Can you two never NOT be gross?" You two turn to see Kaveh groaning from behind you, laying on his pool float. You smile mischievously, giving Alhaitham and Farah a kiss before jumping into the pool right on top of Kaveh.

Alhaitham laughs slightly as the pool float pops up from the water along with you laughing at Kaveh in a coughing fit. Turning back to the baby on his lap, Farah was now slowly swaying her hands around in the water, watching as if she was mesmerized.

"What are you thinking about?" Alhaitham mumbled, placing his own hands underneath Farah's incredibly small ones. Farah stops as she saw his hands then slowly, placing her hands on top of his. Her fingers grasping at Alhaitham's hands before making him clap, struggling slightly with the water in the way and makes him splash at the water instead. Alhaitham laughs slightly as he ruffled her hair.

The two peacefully sat in the pool with you occasionally coming over to give the two a plate of the barbeque Cyno just finished cooking or the bag of chips Alhaitham had been eyeing the night before.

Alhaitham took a sip of his beer when the water fountain a few feet away from them had open, along with the bigger fountains near the deeper pool. Farah immediately perked up at the fountain, squirming in Alhaitham's lap.

"Hm? What's up?" He asked, picking her up. He laid Farah on his chest but she immediately tries to push away as she tried to get to the fountain. "The fountain? Sure.."

Alhaitham carries Farah to the fountain, sitting right beside it. Farah then reaches for the water, trying to hold it in her hands. Alhaitham laughs at her then carrying her closer to the water.

What Alhaitham thought would be another cute Farah moment where she watches in amazement at the water was instead just Farah immediately going to lick the water.

In shock, Alhaitham immediately pulls her back making Farah laugh. "Okay. No more fountain for you." He said, moving away from their spot only for Farah to start crying.

Alhaitham panics internally as Farah squirms in his arms to get back to the fountain. "Hey, shh. You can't drink the water." He scolded but Farah continued to cry.

"Hey what's going on?" You immediately get in the pool and take Farah from his arms but the toddler continues to squirm and whine.

"She tried to drink the water."

"Ah."

You laugh slightly, Farah had started to calm and lean on your shoulder but her whining hadn't stopped. The two of you decide to sit back in their original spot, Farah being a bit more grumpy and pushing away the food you try to feed her opting to hide herself into your chest instead.

Alhaitham an you sigh at her pouting and continue to finish off the chips and barbeque you'd brought over.

"Believe me, Haitham." You start, taking a chip with an exasperated look. "Doctor Baizhu tested Director Hu's patience once and it ended with her covering the entire doors of Bubu Pharmacy with ads for the parlor!"

Alhaitham chuckled at your tipsy ranting about an old friend from Liyue, leaning on his arm as he listened attentively. He notices how Farah hadn't moved a single bit since your ranting had started when usually she'd be doing something.

Alhaitham taps your arm, you stop your rants and mumble "What?" when Alhaitham pointed to the unmoving Farah on your lap.

In a panic, you immediately pulled her back to see Farah peacefully sleeping. Alhaitham and you laugh slightly, brushing stray hairs away from her face.

"Maybe it was a bad idea to take her swimming when she just woke up." You laughed. Alhaitham hums and takes Farah from your lap.

"I'll wash her up, I'm sure Collei wouldn't mind watching over her for a bit." He said, you quirked a brow in amusement.

"Oh? You're not watching her? I thought you'd rather be inside than in the pool." You tease, laying your head and arms on the side of the pool as Alhaitham carefully got out.

"And here I thought you'd be happy to have me, maybe I should also wash up."

"Kidding! Kidding!" You laugh and Alhaitham huffed in amusement. "Say, how are you gonna wash her without waking her up?"

Alhaitham stood for a second, glancing at the comfortabley sleeping Farah in his arms before stating, "I'll figure something out." and heading to the bathrooms.

He did not, in fact, figure something out. He accidentally woke her up and made Farah cry. You had to come in to help.

A/N: heyyyy (in regret) How bad would it be if I said I completely forgot about this 😭 Tbf, I just finished exams yesterday. I'm so sorry I completely forgot about this fic for weeks 😭😭

This fic was inspired by the time I watched over my baby sister during a pool party and girlie dove into the water to drink😭

TAGLIST: @crowbird

[not-5-rats]

I love being goth in Scotland /sarc (these people are so mean, like bro let me be creative-)

Bug Question/Scenario times <33333

1) Modern! AU

Be honest, ever taken an 'Am I Gay?' quiz? (Also what's ur Bugs sexuality/gender identity? I got a stupid doodle idea (it'll make sense when I show y'all))

2) Uh oh, Bodie worked hard and cooked your Bug a meal without knowing they really dislike one of the ingredients! Does your Bug tell him or just suffer through it?

3) Are they good at keeping track of their possessions or do they often lose things?

4) Bloodmoon Swap! AU

How do they hunt/kill people? What's their strategy?

5) Scenario #1 (this shit is super long I'm sorry bros)

Bug had been looking for Chester round the house for like 15 minutes, yet they couldn't find him. That was until they saw him coming out of the room his younger sisters were staying in.

He was clearly exhausted, his pasture was slouched, his eyes half-closed...he looked as though he was about to fall asleep right there. They asked why he looked like shit, he chuckled

"Daisy's sick, she couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, just kept throwing up- been watching her since like 9 last night and only now has she gone for a nap"

He dragged himself through to the living room then threw himself onto the floor beside the couch. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the couch as he sighed out of relief, finally free for a couple of minutes. Bug went and sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"...do you think I'm an alright guardian?"

Bug looked at him, clearly a bit confused by his question. They asked him to elaborate

"Y'know to Daisy and Fran. Out of all my siblings I'm the one least...suited to taking care of kids. Felix is social, caring, always got the energy to play with them, Audrey is organised, knows how to manage kids, can afford to get them the toys and shit they need! Whilst I...I'm just a grump, a sad asshole, who barely ever has any energy"

He pressed his face into his hand, rubbing his forehead as he went on

"They deserve somebody who's gonna be more involved in their life...more than I can give them. But there's no other fucking choice. Mum and Dad ain't in the equation anymore, Felix doesn't have the space for them and Audrey is so busy...they have nowhere else to go...but I'm not fit to be a parent, I'm not fit to take care of them, they need so much more. I just want them to be happy, but I don't think they are happy"

He let his head fall back on the edge of the couch, he didn't look upset, he just seemed blank. Dead even. The only hint of emotion they could see on his face was a shimmer of anger in his eyes..and that anger was towards himself.

What does bug do?

6) Do they enjoy celebrating their birthday?

7) Scenario #2 (ik I'm talking alot rn! It's the holidays I have nothing else to do rn lol)

Most of the Bugs had went out to town in order to collect some new resources, but Chester has stayed back to take care of the baby bugs. Bug had overslept that morning so by the time they woke up the Bugs were already gone...so they bad to stay behind with Chez and the little ones.

Bug and Chez had been talking bout how everything had been going the past few weeks, how the recent town visits had gone, Chez made some sort of joke which resulted in Bug giving him a rough flick to the forehead, this made him chuckle.

Suddenly Chez had to quickly run off as one of the young ones had gotten themself stuck in the top branches of a tree

As soon as he was gone though Fran appeared in his place, an unusual smile creeping on her face as she started quickly signing to Bug

'you know he really cares about you, he isn't very good at showing it but he really cares about all of you'

Bug smiled and questioned Fran on how she was so sure that he cared, she giggled before responding

'cause if he didn't he would've shut down completely when you poked him, he doesn't like people being anywhere near him let alone touch him at all'

Fran kept smiling as she looked over at her older brother, struggling immensely to get the little kid out of the tree. (Like comically on his tippee toes, arms stretched right up as the kid clung to the branches.)

Bug thought about all the times Chez had hugged them, not even just them, all the Bugs! He was always offering a hug, patting them on the back, poking them, etc...and all of it was just a big show of how much he trusted/ cared abt them

*hands the mic to you* here ya go

☆---------------☆

Tags -

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke @fruity0salad @takashishihoin @reefhastoomanyaccs

[katiekatdragon27]

Does anyone still care about this idea? No? Well I don't care you get more stuff anyway.

I am working on the playing cards dw, but this has been sitting in my gallery for months and I wanted to get it done.

(It is HIGHLY RECOMENDED that you read the first part of this au story thing. It provides a lot of context for the world and some other characters that are mentioned here.)

Also some updates on that: This story is now called "Rayman: The Sacred Dream" and it is the concepts for a possible fangame. If people show genuine interest in these characters or this Rayman prequal's story, PLEASE let me know. I would love to construct a team to make this idea a reality.

Anyways: To the character cards!!! (Please read below I worked hard on the ref sheets)

Xavior the Athletic Monk:

Xavior is a teensy who utilizes a special kind of elemental magic over anything else. Choosing to hit hard and dodge over magic blasts, he has learned to manipulate the magic inside his own body to shapeshift into a gelatinous water version of himself. Ze is incredibly resilient and moldable too, able to fit through almost any space and dodge most attacks with ease. He is one of Umber's closest friends. They and he often spar to release energy and get better at combat in general. Ze is also very kind, but lacks a filter, so often comes off as rude unintentionally.

Fier the Furious Paladen:

Fier is a teensy with fire in his heart. Literally. Being a resident of Gourmand Land, they have never turned down a hearty meal, especially if it's spicy. His love for spice was so high that it turned his teal skin yellow, making him look the way he does now. They're personality is no less spicy. He is a hot head with a stubborn thought process. They swing first and questions people after, often challenging Aurthr for leadership of the group. He is not blessed by Polokus, but he does have some sort of deity watching him. It's rumored one of the four wild kings has given him their blessing. He does make a banger meal though, so he is allowed to stick around.

Ellixer the Mysterious Cleric:

No one knows Ellixer's story, nor do they ever share it themselves. They are the only naturally yellow teensy of the Glade, with has made them a puzzlement for most who come across them. They are a very talented magic user, but it can only be used for good (such as healing and boosts). Their inability for proper fighting has made them an easy target for capture, but to their captor's surprise, they always escape undetected. Some even assume that they are Polokus themselves, but they deny it. However, Ellixer did manage to help Aurthr with his bubble magic, so they're not beating the allegations.

Zoron the Cursed Druid:

Zoron was not always the old grump he is now. There was a time where he was a thriving showman, bringing the magic of snow and combat to the hot climates of the Glade. His best clients were the minotaurs, a kind group of hell-dwellers just wanting to cool down and have a good spar. However, while traveling to one of his events, he got into a fight with a mother frostbite, who lost her life in the battle. From that day on, Zoron had been cursed with not only her primal hunger, but the ability to turn into any creature he has fought before (which has been a lot). He was also burdened with her kits, although this is no bother to him now. After learning how to control his hunger through Soria, he's been staying isolated in caves, not wanting to hurt anyone else.

Pyren the Rouge Artificer:

Pyren is one of the strangest teensies around. Whereas most are born with large amounts of magic, Pyren was born with none. This lack of magic has made his life incredibly hard, making it almost impossible to properly bond with his peers and defend himself alone. As a result, he started utilizing his real talent, his brain. Learning that plums are quite flammable and explosive, he learned to harness their power into artillery like bombs and makeshift guns. He also sells these weapons to others, good and bad, who also struggle with no magic or are willing to pay the pretty gem. However, insecurity leads people down dark paths, so when a large, dark-hearted nightmare strikes a deal with Pyren for him get magic in exchange for his loyalty, he becomes his biggest weaponsmith.

And with that, the cast has been fully shared! Yes, there is going to be like 10 main characters in this, but some are more main than others lol. If anyone has any questions at all, I will be more than happy to answer.

Thank you for all the support and have a wonderful afternoon!

[sionnaach]

Trigger warnings for drug and alcohol use, a lot of swearing, and death (and dying. and dying. and dying)

Here it is. The Russian Doll AU

(or at least the first chapter)

--

Someone is knocking on the bathroom door.

Nico stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He’s twenty-five today. He’s managed twenty-five whole rotations around the sun, by some miracle, or divine intervention by whatever God(s) that enjoy watching the relative shitshow that is his life. According to Piper, the frontal lobe finishes developing at this age, but Nico doesn’t feel any different, any more mature than he had yesterday, or the day or week or year before that.

Same old Nico, for better or for worse.

The music is muffled behind the closed door, and he isn’t sure what song is playing, but it’s loud and heavy and he’s glad that there is at least something to his taste at this party that his friends insisted on throwing for him. In his (Piper’s) apartment.

The knocking continues.

He sighs and washes his hands before leaving.

A girl he doesn’t recognise glares at him when he opens the bathroom door, shouldering past him and slamming it shut behind her. Rolling his eyes, he makes his way to the kitchen, passing groups of people he doesn't know or can't be bothered remembering who are all wishing him a happy birthday, placing errant hands on his shoulder or clapping his back as he moves through the crowd. Someone hands him a shot, which he is marginally more enthusiastic about taking.

Piper grins at him from her position behind the kitchen counter, a lit joint in her hand that she begins to wave in the air like a particularly drunk conductor at his approach, her voice a lilting sing-song. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday-”

“Piper,” Nico interrupts her singing, plucking the joint from her hand and taking a drag. “How long have we known each other?”

“About ten years?”

“And in all that time, when have I ever asked you - or anyone, for that matter - for a birthday party?”

“Never, I know, but this is different Nico. you're officially a quarter of a century. That deserves celebrating!” She reaches for the joint, whining when Nico holds it out of her reach with a wry smile. “And it was Leo’s idea.”

Leo, who was currently nowhere to be found.

“And that makes up for a bunch of strangers invading my personal space.” He grumbles, taking another hit before Piper snatches the joint out of his hands again, taking a draw herself.

“Don't be a grump, you know plenty of people. Plus! Hazel and Frank should be here soon, and Percy and Annabeth said they'd swing by at some point. You can stop pretending that you have no friends.”

There’s a loud cheer, and a voice that belongs, undeniably, to one Leo Valdez can be heard even above the music.

“Chef Leo is back in business!”

Said chef is suddenly beside him, Jason in tow, both bearing two huge platters of Leo’s “famous” tofu tacos, which they place down on the counter once Piper clears up enough free space, pushing empty beer bottles and glasses to one side.

“You’re welcome, birthday boy.” Leo says with a grin, bumping their shoulders together. “I’ll give you first pick.”

“How generous of you, Valdez.” Nico grouses, but he grabs one of the tacos anyway - they are good, even if Leo is a bit too up his own ass about his cooking ability.

“Happy birthday, Nico.” Jason says with a smile, holding out a small present wrapped in the most obnoxious wrapping paper he has ever seen (another one of Leo’s fine ideas, he’s sure.) Nico licks the taco juice from his fingers and takes the gift from him.

“Thalia said she’s sorry she couldn’t come, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“Someone needs to open tomorrow,” Nico responds with a shrug. “We went out for a drink last week, so she already got her well wishes in.” She had also sent him a text this morning, telling him he better still be hungover when he’s back at work the day after next or she would know that he hadn’t celebrated hard enough and that she ‘hadn’t raised a quitter’.

Tattoo artists were a different breed. He should know, being one.

He waves the box, gentle to not damage the contents. “I’m gonna put this in my room, I’ll be right back.”

-

Upon leaving his bedroom, Nico comes face to face with the last person he wanted to see tonight.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He’s still in his scrubs, evidently having arrived straight from the fucking hospital. With anyone else that fact might have been sweet, but for some reason it just serves to irritate Nico further.

Maybe it’s just Octavian being here in the first place that is pissing him off.

“Nico!” Octavian cries. (Seriously, who the fuck calls their kid Octavian? That should have been the first warning sign. But Nico was notorious for seeing red flags and running straight on by.) He flashes him that too-perfect smile. Nico glowers in response.

“Why are you here?” He snaps, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

Octavian visibly deflates at Nico’s less than warm welcome, voice faltering. “Well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it? This is your party?”

“I sure as hell didn’t invite you.”

Another knife in the wound, and Nico feels a small degree of satisfaction as Octavian’s face falls into a frown.

“Can I please just explain-” He tries again, but Nico cuts him off.

“I’m not being your fucking rebound or side-piece or whatever the fuck that whole situation was again.”

“Nico-” Octavian reaches out a hand to touch him, to grab his arm or shoulder, but Nico flinches back violently, all but baring his teeth.

“Fuck off.” he snarls, shouldering by roughly, hitting against his arm and leaving Octavian standing in the hallway.

-

He needs a break.

Or another joint. Or a lot of alcohol. All of the above.

Piper is still in the kitchen, talking to Jason. She catches the look in his eye, and immediately holds out the joint again. Nico accepts, holding it between his teeth while he also pours himself a glass of the nearest booze - an unlabeled bottle, his favourite.

He takes a hit, hands the joint back to Piper, and downs the glass in fluid succession. The alcohol is terrible, and it burns his throat, but the weed is at least starting to ebb some of his general frustration at the night.

“Who invited Octavian.”

His friends stare at him.

“No one?”

Jason sighs, pushing up his glasses to rub the space between his eyes. “I’ll get him to leave.” He squeezes Nico’s shoulder reassuringly, before heading back the way Nico came to kick out his… Ex whatever.

“I didn’t invite him.” Piper reassures him once Jason is gone, the most serious she has been all night. “I know Leo didn’t either. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he even figured out-”

Nico sighs, and pours himself another drink. After a pause, he pours one for Piper, too. “It’s fine,” he holds out the glass, and they clink them together before swallowing. “He knew it was my birthday anyway, probably just showed up. Like a fuckin’ stalker.”

“You really need to work on your taste in men.”

“Tell me about it.”

-

“I'm going to the shop.” Nico tells Piper once they’d worked their way through three quarters of the mystery alcohol.

“Oh! could you grab me a box of Marlboros, please-and-thank-you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He slips through the crowd and makes his way to the front door and grabs his leather jacket from the coat rack, pulling it on. Woolen collar aside, it's probably not warm enough to deal with the January cold, but fuck it; he has an aesthetic to uphold. Nico pats his jacket pockets, making sure he has his keys and wallet before heading out the door of the apartment.

Luckily for Nico, as a gust of frigid air hits him upon stepping onto the street and has him questioning if he really needs the booze and smokes, the nearest corner shop is only a short walk from their apartment. Walking quickly, he’s there in five minutes. The chiming of the doorbell announces his arrival, and the cashier looks up from her position at the till.

It's Lou Ellen working tonight, one of the few workers who’s name he actually remembers.

“Hey Nico,” she gives him a lazy salute in greeting, and goes back to… writing? He thinks she’s writing something. It’s hard to tell from where he’s standing.

“How's it going?” He asks, coming up to the counter, where he can see that she’s doing what appears, to his non-college educated mind, to be a college paper. He wouldn’t have been able to make sense of the formulas written on the paper if they were right side up, never mind trying to decipher them from this angle.

She shrugs, still focused on her coursework. “Same shit, different day.” She sets her pen down, returning her attention to Nico. “What you after?”

“Pack of Marlboro please, and… A bottle of Smirnoff.”

“Gotcha.” She turns to the racking behind her, plucking out a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of vodka from a shelf that is just within her reach.

“Got your ID? Tattoos don't count.” A slight smile is pulling at her lips as she places the bottle and cigarette pack on the counter before them. The first time they had met, Nico had forgotten his ID in the apartment and had tried to use the full sleeve(!!) of patchwork tattoos that take up his left arm to convince her that he was over twenty-one, Actually, Thank You Very Much.

She hadn’t relented, and he had to make an extra twenty minute detour to retrieve said ID. Anything for alcohol.

“Yeah yeah,” he mutters, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket and brandishing his currently useless driver's license before her. Lou Ellen, knowing full well he’s of legal age, gives it a cursory glance, enough for the cameras to believe that she was adhering to the law, before waving him off. She flashes him a grin.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.” he shrugs one shoulder, pulling out his debit card to pay.

There's a yelp, a crash and the sound of shattering glass from the other side of the shop, startling them both. “What the fuck-” he starts, as Lou Ellen groans.

“Jesus, Will-” She rounds the counter as another figure - Nico hadn't even realized there was anyone else in the shop - appears at the top of the aisle, hands raised sheepishly. He’s about their age and tall, bundled in a warm dark navy parka. Blonde curls are poking out from underneath the beanie on his head.

More importantly, he’s also hammered.

“Sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up.” Drunk Guy starts, but is cut off by a raised hand, as Lou Ellen herds him, bodily, both hands on his arms and pushing, towards the back room. That's definitely against company policy, not that Nico cares.

“Like hell you will.” She says gruffly. Glancing back over her shoulder at Nico, she throws him a withering look and inclines her head at the walking disaster before her. “Sorry, I gotta-” Nico takes the hint. All things considered, at least he’s not dealing with anything like that tonight.

“Don't worry about it. Good luck.”

“Cheers. Hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday!”

He pockets the cigarettes and grabs the bagged vodka, and with a wave in Lou Ellen’s general direction, he’s back out onto the freezing New York streets.

Nico draws his jacket tighter around himself, huddling into the fabric the best he can. Definitely not warm enough.

He pulls the box of cigarettes back out and fishes the lighter he keeps in his jacket pocket. If Piper is going to have him buying her smokes, the least she can do is share, he reasons. It takes him a minute to light the cigarette, hands going numb in the cold. He takes a drag, exhaling a puff of smoke into the air.

Someone is sitting on the street across the road. A teenager, eighteen, maybe, and he’s strumming an idle tune on the guitar in his lap. The song, and the teenager, with his mop of curly brown hair ducked so Nico can’t quite see his face, seem familiar.

The kid looks up and Nico meets his eyes. Even from this distance, he can tell they're a little too blue - but that’s definitely an after-effect of the weed. They stare at each other, and Nico can’t shake the feeling that he should know who he is.

He should probably get back to the party.

-

Usually the cold helps to sober him up, but Nico feels drunker now than when he left the apartment. Maybe the alcohol was reacting badly to the weed. He needs to get back to apartment and eat about five of Leo’s tacos to sober up a little.

In his rush to get home, he forgets to look both ways when he steps out onto the road.

There is the screech of tyres and the blaring of a car horn and suddenly he’s airborne. Nico’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. A sickening crunch as he hits tarmac, something is wet and sticky, all around him, and dark eyes are staring out at the street but not quite seeing -

-

Someone is knocking on the bathroom door.

Nico is staring at his reflection in the mirror.

[omgpurplefattie]

WIP Wednesday

Here's a bit from the third episode of Research Vessel Lianhua Lou, my MLC Star Trek AU. They're on the ship, in transit to their next adventure.-

Throughout breakfast, Li Lianhua didn’t stop grumping at both of them, and when they finally ran out of pancakes and porridge, he told them to go invent something; he had reading to do. Nanyin lessons after lunch, okay?

“He’d have to be really sick to forget about his old dead languages for a bit,” A-Fei sighed as they both stood, meekly taking their crockery to the dishwasher. Li Lianhua held out his cup for even more raktajino, which Fang Duobing poured for him, before getting out his terminal and starting to read right where he was. After about three seconds, he looked up again and made a shooing motion with his free hand.

“Yes, yes, I'm going,” Fang Duobing said. “I have a date with the warp engine anyway, as there are a few inhabited systems coming up on our route soon. I’ll ease the warp bubble through that by hand.”

“You’re not telling me that rocks with people on feel different to the warp engine than just rocks do?” Li Lianhua said, with another eye-roll. “That is a new degree of warp mumbo jumbo even for you. You won’t believe the way he talks about that thing, A-Fei. One time, when he explained about the engine settling into just the right speed for the sector of space we were crossing, he claimed it felt like putting me inside himself in bed.”

“Your prick has a very amenable shape,” A-Fei said, deadpan; and Li Lianhua threw the spoon with which he’d been stirring his raktajino at the Klingon’s forehead ridges.

Fang Duobing hotly remembered what he’d read about throwing things in a Klingon sex context, grabbed his mug of tea, and fled to the engine room, thundering down the steps.

[luveline]

Zombie!au- would love to see more grump Steve in the earlier days. And r just trying to lighten things up a bit!

thank you for requesting ♡ steve zombie!au —your attempt to cheer steve up backfires, but he's not so oblivious to your feelings as you think. fem!reader, 1k

Water drips down the length of Steve's arm. It follows a path to his elbow, shining honey-orange in the last dregs of sunlight that haunt the room. The stone wall at your back is cooling, the baking heat of the day abating with the setting sun. 

Your shirt is still damp but clean. Steve scrubbed it until the fabric turned fuzzy, the faint smell of sweat lingering despite all his efforts and dawn dish soap. He sits close enough to rest his leg atop yours, touching you without apology. It's hard to care about personal space when you spend time with someone like this, isolated. Your survival is tied to his like shared veins. 

Water sloshes over the edge of the bucket onto a towel he placed beneath it. You clear your throat, drawing his gaze. 

"Kinda weird how many towels people leave behind." 

His constant frown doesn't so much as twitch. "Why's that?" 

"We all need towels. Makes you wonder if they thought there'd be towels somewhere else… We loot all these houses and half the time there isn't a can of peaches, but there's always a couple of towels." 

"You only need one towel," Steve says. 

"Not the way we use them." 

Steve's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. You can guess what he's thinking —you're making small talk about towels. Maybe he'd rather sit in silence than listen, but if you stay silent in the wake of his bad mood any longer, you'll disintegrate. 

"I'm just saying it's weird to take soap but not the towel." 

"They probably weren't thinking about it. Not the way it happened, I mean." Steve's brows pinch together. He pulls his shirt from the soapy water filled bucket between his legs and squeezes the excess water from it. 

"Were you going to say something else?" you ask cautiously. 

Steve wrings his shirt, the muscles in his arms singing as he twists it tighter and tighter. You can't choose what to look at, his arms, the coiled definition of his upper chest, or the strange expression that plays on his fine features. Eventually he drops his sodden shirt on the towel and wipes his hands dry, not looking at you as he asks, "What did you think was gonna happen?" 

You shift your foot under his weight. He doesn't move it still, and you're glad. You need touch. You need his touch, even if he doesn't need yours. 

"I thought everybody was going to be fine." Your stomach aches remembering. "For a week, the news didn't bother me. The radio hosts were pandering and CNN were fearmongers. But then… one day I woke up and I knew it was the end." 

"When they started saying–" 

"Don't try to hide." You swallow a lump of past hurt where it swells. 

"That's why people didn't bother with towels," Steve says. "That's what I think. They knew they wouldn't make it past the week, deep down, even if they didn't know." 

You cross your arm over the other and hold your elbow. The sun sinks like a stone, dark eating the corners of the room. It feels colder now. 

It's scarier, in the dark. You worry about what you can't see. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Steve says, speaking more gently than he had been as he pulls his leg away. "I know you were trying to make me feel better. I didn't mean to kill the mood like an asshole."

"That makes a difference," you tease. 

Steve stands and grabs the bucket of dirty water, pouring it out of the open window. You can hear the loud slosh of it slapping overgrown bluegrass below. 

"I'm sorry for being a dick," he says, turned from you still, bucket braced in two rigid hands. 

"Steve, I don't care if you're in a bad mood. I just worry it's my fault." 

He tosses the bucket aside, the thin metal handle rattling as it lands. Brushing the hair from his face, Steve turns back to you and, silhouetted by the last light, gives you a tentative smile. 

"You drive me crazy sometimes, but if I'm pissed, that's my problem. Not your fault." 

You sit up, a muscle twinging between your sore shoulders. "Oh. Cool."

Steve nods to the left. "Come over here. We'll sleep where it's dry." 

You do as told, achy and worn from another day at the end of the world. You could sleep in a queen size bed every night and it'd make no difference to this kind of exhaustion, the burden of perpetual hyper vigilance like slow releasing venom. You kick the shitty single mattress you've been sleeping on for the last few days across the room and Steve spreads out a blanket for you to lay on. 

You can't sleep. Most of the time, you lay down for a few hours feigning rest while Steve sits soldier, nothing to do, nothing to darn nor sharpen nor tend to. You're in a strange limbo of having no urgent needs and no strength between you to move on yet. With a stache of protein bars you found in the desk in the den, you and Steve can stay here for a few more days. 

You sit down regardless of the sleepless tossing and turning that awaits, surprised when Steve wastes little time sitting beside you. Shirtless. He leans against the jacket you've been using as a pillow and puts his arm behind your back with the familiarity of a lover, hand on your waist. 

Your breath pulls in funny. 

"Thanks for trying," he says. 

You risk looking up at him. He looks down, a little bit of King Steve charm in the quirk of his mouth. 

"But towels?" he asks. 

"It was the first thing I could think of." 

He nods like this makes sense and pulls you into his side, rubbing yours with enough affection to floor you if you weren't already on it. "I didn't pack a towel, and neither did you. We're all the same." 

"Then how come we're here?" you ask, quiet with the embarrassment of asking such a vulnerable question. How come we lived and no one else did?

"I don't know."

You put your face in the curve of his neck hesitantly. Steve rests his cheek on top of your head.

"I'm glad we are, though," he murmurs.