010101sblog

[camscendants]

Work stuff

[girlleon]

I MUST BE SPOILED AND ROTTEN (CAUSE NO ONE ELSE WOULD EVER DO)

real dad!leon x fem reader

warnings: father-daughter incest. could perhaps be read as a sequel for too close for comfort. daddy kink. also more nicole dollanganger, this is a little more directly inspired by uncle. pussy smacking, d/s dynamics, established relationship. title taken from spoiled and rotten by darling violetta.

Summer is blisteringly hot. It’s been nothing but eighties and nineties and humidity. It doesn’t even have the decency to cool the hell down at night. Your box fan doesn’t do much for you, the only air conditioner is in the living room.

Which is why you’re awake, staring at the ceiling with a gnawing in your lower stomach.

You get up, clad in dad’s old t-shirt and ruffle socks, and pad down to dad’s room.

The door creaks when it opens, there’s no reprieve from the heat in his room or the hallway.

You slip silently into his room and crawl into bed with him. “Daddy?”

Leon’s up in a moment, strong arms wrapping around you. Government training left its mark all these years later. “What is it, baby?”

“Can’t sleep.” You nuzzle his neck, leaving a kiss over his pulse.

He laughs, voice ragged from sleep, and your stomach flutters as one of his arms unwinds from you and dives into your panties. “Yeah? Think I know why, baby. Want me to make it better?”

You nod, lifting your leg up a little more for him.

Quickly, he withdraws his hand and smacks your pussy hard enough to make you jolt and cry out.

“What do we say?” No change in his inflection, but that’s your daddy.

“Thank you, daddy.” You mumble, rewarded with a kiss to your jaw and his hand gently petting over your stinging clit.

“My poor baby.” Leon coos, nudging your nose with his and leaving a kiss near your mouth as he slowly fumbles with your clit. “Your fingers not doing it for you anymore?”

You shake your head. “No, daddy.” They haven’t since he got inside you that first time, bending you over the kitchen counter while dinner burned on the stove.

Yeah, it was real fun trying to shut up the fire alarm whilst you both were naked from the waist down. Doing the dishes was awful, but that’s his job.

You stiffen up when he pushes two fingers in, no burning stretch because he got you used to three in no time.

When you moan, Dad rewards you with the heel of his palm grinding against your clit. “That’s my sweet girl.” He rests his forehead against yours, then kisses you as you get close, feeding off your moans and the way your walls squeeze his fingers.

Leon withdraws his fingers and gently wipes his hand on your tummy, patting your mound gently and grinning when you giggle. “Is that better?” He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you over, head in your neck.

“Mhm…” you nod lazily, already nodding off.

One orgasm plus dad’s weight on you equals a good ten hours of sleep.

You shift a little as you stand in front of your mom’s grave, feeling sort of ashamed in some odd way. Would mom be horrified if she was alive? If she knew her husband and kid were doing it on the daily?

Then again, you kinda ceded the kid label the second you let dad get inside you. Maybe that’s why you’re so interested in Twin Peaks, Laura Palmer was her dad’s own daughter-wife.

You lean into dad’s side unconsciously, staring at the headstone and sweating through your t-shirt in the fucking sun.

Later, as you’re cooking for the two of you, dad’s hands slip beneath your shirt, resting on your waist. “You’ve been all weird today, baby.” He sets his chin on top of your head and comes a little closer, fingers drumming on your sides.

He’s like a cat, Leon is. Never shows up when you’re actively showing attention to him and is bothered by it at best, only to turn around and come begging for it when you inevitably fuck off. You’d think he’d sleep at your feet if he could.

You sigh, stirring the noodles around the pan. “It’s complicated.”

Leon sighs too, dropping his head to ghost his mouth over your cheekbone. “So? Talk about it with me. I’ll uncomplicate it for you.”

You stir a little more, staring down at the pan and slowly sweating through your previously clean shirt. You should’ve just thrown this shit in the crockpot and called it a day. “Feel like I’m disrespecting her. Mom.”

His hands freeze; called it.

“Why?” He asks slowly, like he’s trying to interrogate you. Kinda reminds you of when he’d run a full investigation of why there were no leftover pizza slices left. If there are none left and only two people in the house, no dog, then how many graves are you spitting on?

You scoff, trying to pull away, but Leon’s got you cornered against the stove. “Come on, baby.” He goads, wrapping big fucking arms around your middle and pulling you in. “Why?”

You’d look at him as if he grew two heads if you could. “Because she’s my mom. Cause she’s your wife. You fucked her before me.”

He snorts in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Is that jealousy I hear, baby?”

You growl in annoyance, turning off the heat. “Don’t ‘baby’ me.”

Dad smiles against your face. “You sound just like your mother.” Of course this motherfucker isn’t bothered by it. “Just like her too.” He pats your ass. “In some ways, at least.” A wet kiss on your neck.

You make an unhappy noise, aiming an elbow at his ribs. “Focus, dad, Jesus fucking Christ. You can’t just fuck me every time we have a disagreement.” It’s not really a disagreement, he thinks you’re all in your head again. Got that from mom too.

Dad freezes, then withdraws, turning you to face him with the hands on your sides. “I’m sorry. Promise I’ll be serious.” Leon takes a hand and kisses it, keeping a hold of it like a bridge between you.

You huff, only slightly mollified by him. “You don’t feel… you’re not bothered by it?”

Leon’s eyes study you for a while, brows slowly furrowing. “I love you. Lots and lots, baby. What—“ he holds your hand a little tighter. “what we have, what we do, is only a natural extension of that.”

When you’re silent again, he reels you in, his fish on a line and hook in your cheek. “The royals did that, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, and Prince Phillip was a ghastly looking beast.” You mutter, pressing your ear to his heart. Dad snorts above you.

Hear that? That beats for you. Used to beat for mom, but he got a new one just for his precious girl.

“And Nicholas the second’s son had that blood disorder because of it.” That’s probably not true, but also could be true, who knows.

Divine punishment, like in a One Hundred Years of Solitude when that kid was born with the pig tail after generations of inbreeding. The entire settlement in Venezuela got wiped from the face of the earth for that. Rocks fall, everyone dies.

Lot’s daughters raped him. His wife got turned into a pillar of salt because she looked back after they fled Sodom and the girls never got any comeuppance.

He smooths a palm over your head. “Honey, Alexandra also had the same problem. So did at least two of the daughters.”

“But we don’t know.” You look up at him and frown.

Dad pouts down at you too before kissing you. “Your mom is always in my heart.” He says once he’s pulled away, wiping a bit of his spit from the corner of your mouth. “And so are you. She’d want me to be happy.”

You hold back a snarky comment, only giving him a look. Leon shrugs and straightens up. “Is that all it was, babydoll?”

You nod after a moment and he pats you on the ass again. “Better?”

You suppose so, you’re not really sure.

You feel a little like everyone knows when they look at you. Like Girl, Interrupted when Angelina Jolie looks at Brittany Murphy’s character and tells her everyone knows her dad rapes her, but what they—we—all missed is that she likes it.

Liked. Likes. Same difference, honestly. All that matters is that she—you—liked what her dad did to her. Rape.

God, what if his coworkers found out? Incest is a felony in most states. You and him go in the clinker, and everyone knows what happens in prison showers.

There are some things better kept between family.

Your dad loves you, you know he does. You love him too, even if everyone else is weirded out about it. He needed a relic of mom’s around, and what are you if not that?

Cum is thicker than water, in that sense.

[linniewrites]

We all have our issues | Prologue

idol!jungkook x chubby!student!reader

Summary : She asked me if she was pretty.

Well, it’s clear that the girl’s a fraud.

There's really no way of winning

If in their eyes you'll always be a dumb blonde

Words : 900

Warnings : mommy issues, daddy issues, age gap (Jk is 25 while reader is 20), crying, talk about anxiety, depression, abuse, mentions of panic attacks, school induced stress, fear of dogs (?), insecurities, body shaming.

You grab the cherry and coke flavored candies on the shelf and throw them into the red basket you’re holding with your arm. You then readjust your glasses and head towards the ramen aisle, you take a box of your favorite ramen along with a box of two soft boiled eggs. You ponder for a few moments before deciding to get a spicy salmon gimbap. When checking out the seaweed snacks, you notice a tall man dressed in black sweatpants and a large Nike shirt hesitating between two flavors.

He’s humming a soft tune which sound familiar, but your tiredness doesn’t allow you to remember exactly what it is. You sigh and go pay before setting down your stuff at the counter while you go heat up the ramen. The ringing from the microwave stops you up from almost falling asleep standing up, and you carefully take out your bowl to bring it to the counter. Slowly, you take out your laptop as well as your notebook from your bag to work on your philosophy paper. About ten minutes in your essay, you see from the corner of your eyes a black bag hesitantly being set down.

“Do you mind if I sit here ?” The man from earlier asks. He stares at you and the notes you have before grabbing his bag and taking a few steps back. “If you’re working, I can go somewhere else.” He points at the other seats available, but you shake your head no and gesture for him to sit. You wipe your teary eyes and turn away from him so he couldn’t see the state you were in.

However, that doesn’t look like it worked, because he seems to have noticed, because he hesitantly puts his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t mean to be rude, but, are you okay ?”

You blink at him and look around nervously before answering. “Yeah.”

You wished you could’ve said more, but it felt like you had already said too much. You now fully turn away, so he couldn’t ask you anymore questions, and take a bite of your noodles. The ramen burn your tongue and you blame your upcoming tears on the spice, this time you don’t stop them, and let them fall freely on your lap. You attempt to muffle your cries by shoving more food into your mouth, but to no avail.

Truth is, you were having a pretty good day, one of your classes got cancelled so you got to hang out with some friends, you had lunch together and laughed. And then your mother surprised you. You get along well with her, but sometimes she can be a lot. She had been at your apartment o when you’d came home and it was fun, until she said stuff that bothered you. When you told her you had a great time with friends, she criticized them, and said you should be focused on studies, when you told her you got an amazing grade on an English paper, she asked how much everyone else had.

In the end, you answered that it didn’t matter, because you were proud of your grade, she got mad at you and called you rude, amongst other names. After her whole outburst, she had suddenly decided to be friendly and offered to cook you something so you could relax and watch your favorite show together. For the first time you tried to stand up to her, and you told her you didn’t feel like hanging out today, but she only just laughed at your face, until she realized you were serious. Then, she got even angrier and left, slamming the door like an antsy teenager behind her. You didn’t even bother cleaning up everything she took out and just grabbed your bag before heading to the convenience store. You saw the man next to you steal glances at you every few minutes, and you started to feel bad because he was just being nice and you had ignored him. When you saw him hesitate to ask you if you were okay once more, you turned to face him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just… not really having a great day. But I’m fine, don’t worry.” You wiped your under eyes with the back of your hand.

“Sir ?” He giggled, and you quite frankly thought it was the cutest thing you had ever heard. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. That really sucks. D-Do you want to talk about it ?” He saw your eyes start to wander around so he assumed he was being too intrusive and turned back to his own food. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry.”

“No I’m sorry. You’re being really nice, and I’m just being lame. Even if I wanted to talk about it, I don’t really know what I would tell you, to be honest.”

“How about we just eat ? And if by the end of your meal, you want to talk, I’ll be here.” He offered you, smiling kindly.

“Okay, that’d be nice. Thank you…” You trailed off, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Jungkook.” He saw the way your face dropped and looked around to see if anything had bothered you or made you sad, but then he heard you whisper to him.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I really like your music.”

“Oh, well thank you…”

“___”

[foreverrandomwritings]

🍨Bowl of ice cream: rooster and peach

Just Peachy

Summary: Bradley visits you at work and stumbles upon you in a peach sized predicament.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x afab!Reader

Warnings:Super fluffy, brief mention of frisky business, one curse word, that's all?

Word count: 1105

Masterlist Taste of Twenty-Five Masterlist

The sweet smell of peach was the first thing Bradley noticed when he walked into the little bakery. He stood by the door scanning the shop as he tucked his aviators into his old academy shirt that was a bit too small on him but made his biceps look devine so he refused to part with it. He took in a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes briefly the smell of all the different sweets overtaking his senses. 

“She’s in the back you weirdo.” The brass voice of your younger sister flew his way. His eyes snapped open glancing in the eighteen year olds direction. He felt the smirk coming upon his lips as he sauntered around the customers that were milling about the store. He lifted the counter top and slipped through the opening before speaking to her.

“You’re mighty bold today I see.” He and your sister had a nice back and forth relationship. The closest thing to a sibling bond he’s ever had. She had been working in your bakery for a couple months now, needing some money and a part time job while in college. 

“You were scaring off all the customers standing by the door with your creepy pornstache.” She kept her voice low and gestured towards the door of the shop with the hand that wasn’t writing on a small chalkboard sign. He glanced at the words briefly, noticing something about peaches but not really focusing on what it said. 

“Hey, you said the stache looked just fine.” He held a hand over his heart and she rolled her eyes dramatically. The dramatic eye roll was one of the things you both had in common. 

“Get out of here, I’m sick of looking at your face.” He scoffed but did as she said, turning around and finding his way into the kitchen. He spotted your form quickly, huddled over a cutting board, knife in hand. He was quiet as he snuck up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle as he pressed himself into your back. 

“How are you doing today, hot stuff?” His nose was buried in your neck before you could respond. You giggled lightly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your neck. 

“I am just peachy.” You giggled at your own joke as you looked down at the peach in your hand. He peered over your shoulder and let out a small laugh as well. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you but I thought you were working late today.” You had set down the knife and the peach in your hand. You grabbed the towel tucked into your apron and wiped your hands off quickly. Bradley stepped back a foot letting you turn around. You leaned your back against the counter and gave him a sweet smile. 

“I did work late, it's already seven.” His eyes flicked to the clock hanging on the wall across the room. Your eyes got wide in return quickly flipping your wrist over to check the time on your watch. The bakery didn’t close for another hour and a half but you were still surprised at the time. 

“Oh my. I didn’t even realize it was getting so late. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with all these peaches for hours.” You gestured around the room and that’s when Bradley noticed the insane amount of peaches crowding the space. 

“This is an awful lot of peaches babe.” He held his lips together tightly trying to hold in a laugh at the bewildered look on your face. 

“I’ve already made like ten peach pies, a couple dozen muffins, two cakes and a dozen scones.” You threw your hands up in emphasis, eyes widening every so slightly.

“Is there a reason you have so many peaches?” He was genuinely curious, typically when you had a big order of anything you’d let him know. He however hadn’t heard of any big orders involving peaches from you recently. 

“If someone hadn’t distracted me while I was ordering produce last week I wouldn’t have ordered this many.” Your eyes narrowed at him, cheeks heating at the memory of last week, shifting on your feet. 

“You weren’t complaining last week.” He had a cheshire grin on his lips now. You had been in the office when he came in last week. Clad in his flight suit and a black t-shirt that hugged him in all the right ways. Things had gotten a little heated and had left you distracted while you were putting in your orders for the week. So instead of the twenty peaches you wanted to order for a few muffins and scones you had planned to bake you had received two hundred peaches. 

“Since you’re the one that put me into this mess you are gonna help me out of it.” It was your turn to have a large smile on your face. His eyebrows shoot up at the mischievous look in your eye. 

“Go wash your hands and grab an apron. You're gonna help me cut up some of these to freeze.” He groaned loudly as the words left your mouth. He didn’t actually mind helping however, it reminded him of all the times he would help his mom and grandmother in the kitchen growing up.

“Can I at least have a kiss first?” He puckered his lips at you and you looked as though you were contemplating whether or not you were gonna kiss him. He was about to complain before you stood on your tiptoes to land a quick kiss upon his lips. 

“Now get to work.” He gave a mock salute and made his way to grab an apron hung up by the sink. He tied it quickly before washing his hands and coming to stand beside you again. 

“How’d I get lucky enough to get such a take charge girlfriend?” The question was rhetorical and you both knew it but that didn’t stop you from answering him as you passed him his own cutting board, knife and bowl, the carton of peaches sat between you. 

“You have a really nice ass is all.” You shrugged at him nonchalantly giggling at the way his nose scrunched up. 

“Good to know that’s all you needed.” He looked at you however and instead of the smell of peaches taking over his senses it was the way you were looking at him. Your eyes held so much love and adoration it was all consuming. There would never be a day that he wouldn’t remind you just how lucky he was to call you his. 

A/N:This has taken forever to write and I am so sorry. I am hoping to get to the rest very soon. Thank you all for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989 @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming

[onepiecepetalfanfics089]

Hellooo! Im so happy you opened your request 😩Can i request something for platonic Yandere strawhats (zoro and luffy really) with a teen! Reader who acts snarky and bold but they’re scared of everything form a butterfly to a emperor of the sea so they refuse to join the crew?

Bratty~..

On your peaceful and beautiful island you were currently wiping tables, life was a bit quiet and easy but you liked it that way..though you would never admit it of course. Taking your apron off and hanging it up you were just about to leave until you heard two of co workers walk past.

They seemed a bit frightened but very intrigued about what they were gossiping a lot and you couldn’t help but listen.

“Have you heard about the pirates who just docked on our island yesterday??…”

“Yea apparently their some favorite pirate group called ‘the strawhats..’ I heard their captain took out Kaido! He’s an emperor of the sea!”

Your eyes widen and you bit your lip. Kaido?..one of the strongest emperors of the sea?..you gulp and truth be told was frightened to death like you were with a lot of things..

Truth be told, you secretly hated anything that had to do with adventure and danger..but you couldn’t let anyone know that so it’s better to just put on a tough face..right?..

Taking a deep breath and gulp you quickly scoffed and put your hands on your hips, adding a snarky expression on your face as you pointed to the two girls who worked with you.

“Hey you two idiots! Stop chatting and take your shift already!! I wanna go home!”

The girls blinked and glared at you but said nothing and just walked past you, taking their shift so you could clock in. You sighed softly in relief as you got your belongings and left out the store, closing it and walking home.

Your thoughts were wondering about those straw hats..you definitely seen them on their wanted poster and the news paper, gulping with a sigh you quickly hurried to your house. Decided to just avoid them and try not run into them as best as you could. Leaving it at that you started to do your night routine and trying to let the thought settle out of your head.

But you couldn’t help but have feeling that wasn’t going to be the end of it..

.

.

.

.

The next day, you woke up and yawned heading out to the diner you worked at and started to do your job of course. Your back was turned when you heard what sounded like ten people entering. Quite rowdy and loud but you used to it since you’ve been working a long time.

Putting on your customer service smile and cheery voice you greeted them.

“Hello everyone welcome to Jax’s Steak house! What can I get for you today?-” when you opened you your house you couldn’t believe what you saw. There they were the straw hat pirates..

Your eyes widened as you gulped and tried not to hide your fear and surprise, it was painfully obvious though that you were started.

Cute..

You noticed all ten of them staring intently at you..especially the boy in the straw hat and the one with green hair..

‘Brush it off..make it seem like you don’t care!!’ You shouted in your head and quickly put your smile back on your face. Smiling almost sweetly you took them to your table and tried to pretend you weren’t scared as hell.

“YAYY I WANT MEAT!!”

“What kind of boos do you guys have here?..”

“Oh my lady you sure are beautiful..did you know that??”

“WILL YOU TWO IDIOTS SHUT IT?!”

Their loud behavior and attitudes were quite unusual for pirates..at least that’s what you thought..still keeping your distance you gave them the menu nonchalantly and went over to the counter to continue your work.

While you were wiping tables, sweeping and doing your regular duties you felt eyes on you..multiple of them..the Pirates eyes were practically all over you! You huffed a bit in annoyance but of course didn’t dare to to speak to them.

When they finally ordered their meal which was practically the whole menu, you wrote it all down and tried to leave them alone again but of course..you were stopped.

“Hey waitress lady! What’s your name?! I’m luffy and this is my crew!”

You blinked and gulped, why on earth would they want your name..?

Trying to act nonchalant and snarky you placed your hand on your hip and turned around. “What’s it to you?..oh whatever it’s Y/N..” you said softly but still keeping a straight face, ignoring how your heart was pounding inside of your chest.

You saw the green haired man smile and the boy know as ‘Luffy’ grin at you. The rest of them smiled and even chuckled at your behavior which has never really happened before..

“Cool name! That’s zoro and Nami!” He goes on to introduce his whole crew without even thinking about the fact that you’re a complete stranger. You didn’t really have choice and just listened to him while you did your work, even talking and engaging in the conversation.

Though you couldn’t get over how their eyes followed you, how the one named Robin always formed her gentle but somewhat devilish smile when you walked past or face her tea. How Sanji you presumed kept complimenting you non-stop and seemed to love staring at you.

Zoro would just simply stare at you and seemed to drink his sake faster just so you could pour him more. They all in fact enjoyed your snarky comments and jokes, even laughing at them while some even chimed in and gave some back. They all seemed so intrigued with you, ever since you walked in that door.

Too intrigued…

You were almost done with your shift but they were still there for some reason but you felt quite comfortable now so you didn’t really care that much.

Luffy was currently chewing on a hunk of meat he ordered and zoro was leaning back in his seat, both were staring at you intently as usual.

“So Y/N! You’re pretty nice and cool! Wanna join the crew?” He asked with a grin and a mouth full of meat, swallowing it down and taking another bite. Zoro just took another swing of his sake and stared at you expectedly, you blinked and as your eyes widened in surprise. Join their crew?..were they crazy?!

All the time they were here luffy kept going on and on about his adventures and how he saved numerous kingdoms by fighting incredibly strong foes. There was absolutely no WAY you would survive.

You snorted and placed a hand on your with a joking smile. “Join your crew? Yea right I wouldn’t be caught dead with you losers..” you joked as you turned your back to them and went put away all the cleaning supplies.

Luffy chuckled and zoro smirked they both thought you were joking..no they knew you were joking because there was no way you wouldn’t join.. “Shi shi shi! okay whatever! But really, join the crew it would be great to have aboard!!” Luffy said cheerfully and you sighed as you felt the whole crew turn to you. How we’re you going to tell them..?

You slowly shook your head and leaned against the counter. “Sorry guys..no can do..you guys are pretty cool..for pirates..but I have a life here and I just can’t abandon it..”you said while looking away with another sigh.

The crew went silent and saw zoro narrow his eyes and huff in annoyance. “Are you saying that or are you just scared?..you know we won’t let anything happen to you.” He said nonchalantly while crossing his arms. You raised an eyebrow and laughed, they didn’t seem to find anything funny though..

“Yea you wish..but really I just can’t come with you guys..sorry..” you said softly, suddenly you saw luffy stretch his arm towards you and wrap his hand around your wrist without saying anything. His eyes were covered by a dark shadow as the crew went silent still and looked down.

“Sorry Y/N..we weren’t asking..” he said cockily as he grabbed a drink in which you saw chopper put some type of pill in earlier.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, this wasn’t part of your peaceful life..you tried to pull away but to no surprise luffy was too strong and held on to you tighter as he then raised his hand up and forced the drink down your throat. A few minutes later you started to feel drowsy, the world seemed to spin around you as you clenched the table and looked up at them with confusion, fear, sadness and even a bit of anger.

You mumbled something incoherent and gulped. Without a word, Zoro lifted you up and swung you over his shoulder like you were nothing. Giving a few pats on the back he made sure to be gentle with holding you. If you didn’t cause a fuss that is…You heard Nami whisper “relax..we’ll take good care of you..promise..” in a soft voice as you stared into her dark chocolate brown eyes.

You closed your eyes and eventually lost conscious. The straw hats carrying you on their ship to set sail to a new island and on the seas and have many fun adventures on the way.

They didn’t really know why they took such interest in you…they just seemed to love your Bratty attitude…

I really hope you liked this one because I tried my best on it, also I know it’s a bit short but I honestly didn’t know what else to add😅

[heartfullofleeches]

Do it. Show us the personal trainer reader and V!!! >:3c

[suggestive... If you squint? Just V being his normal gross/creep self so fair warning]

Of all the things he's ever done to gain the upper hand - this has got to be the dumbest of the lot by far. A man of reclusive nature like himself, Vince Alisa Carbone was no stranger to his physical strengths or lack thereof. With his sheltered upbringing, this hadn't been an issue majority of his life and would have remained as such had it not been for the new neighbor a door down and ten miles out of his league.

Outgoing and upbeat; it didn't take long for him notice. For someone like him, all it took was a smile It was.. enduring. Early morning jogs and daily exercises beside their window dragged that attraction along, and revealed their dedication and interest in physical activity. With their looks he figured them to be a fitness influencer, but when he checked all that came up was a listing for training at a gym not too far from home. Disappointed by the lost of quality material, his search was not entirely fruitless as his sleep deprived mind came up with a better alternative. The answer was right in front of him. If he wanted to get closer to them, all he had to do was sign up. By the time morning rolled around, the seeds of regret had begun to sprout, but it was too late to back out now.

Waiting for them at check-in, V had never felt more like a fish out of water. Sure there were others like him about, but for every thin figure there were three more he considered to be the peak of human physique and more attractive than him because of it. They probably came everyday, just like them. He wondered if anyone had tried to make a move on who he already thought of as his. The stress was enough to give him a headache. He should probably head home.

"Wah!"

V flinches as someone claps their hands before his eyes. He couldn't hear a thing with his headphones on, but after reading their lips each time the syllable was pronounced, he knew exactly what they were saying.

"V?"

Even muted, that voice gave him chills. V drops his headphones around his neck as that same smile he had made his lockscreen shines. Spreading their arms out wide, his trainer tackles him in a hug that knocks the air clear out of his lungs. V shoved his own parents and sibling away when they tried to hug him, but if it was you - he guessed he could endure it for a little while.

"It's so good to see you out of your appartment. I got so excited when I saw your name on the application, I didn't know what to do with myself. Was the walk over alright?"

"Yeah..." To be honest, V was already winded from a stroll that took no less than ten minutes, but at this very moment he felt like he could run a marathon. You were looking forward to your time together - how could he not. He swore his heart had bursted, but soon realized the gore he imagined to be leaking from his shirt was condensation bleeding from yours. You were sweating - the front of your tee drenched in the product of your hard work. Seeing the small patch on his shirt as you break free from the hug, V makes a vow to himself to never wash it again.

"Hope you weren't waiting here too long. Been here since opening to get a little warm up in before you showed. Just give me a sec to freshen up then we can go over today's workout."

You swing the towel from around your neck onto your palm. As you dab at crevices of your damp neck and chest with the sweat-soaked rag, V undergoes fatigue leagues beyond your own and his previous weariness as he leans against the counter for dear life and what little decency he had left. At this distance, the sweet stench wafting off is overwhelming; his tongue a lick way from a taste of the intoxicating perspiration drooling from your spent body and dampening your tee. That towel was ruining the mood already.

What he wouldn't give to take its place. Wiping you down with nothing but his tongue and the shirt off his back. Easing the tension in your muscles with his hands and praise. Given the hour, he would jump at the opportunity of being your personal rag; lapping at your sweaty skin like a dehydrated animal lead to water. Just a single drop would give him the will to live on for another decade.

Draping the towel around your neck, your expression twists to that of confusion. "You doing okay? You're looking a little clammy there yourself."

V blinks - unable to fully process your question. Smearing the drool hanging from his lips into his skin, he nods his head furiously. "Yup! I feel great. Fantastic. Never felt better..."

Your legs must've gotten good exercise too. He'd kill for a chance to have you wrap those things around his head and...

"sit on my face."

Your towel falls to your shoulder. "Pardon?"

V snaps back to reality. "towel...Your towel! Haha... worked up a sweat just by walking over here. You mind if I use your towel to dry off? Please?"

"Ah, well I'm sure you wouldn't want anything soaked with my sweat. I'll grab you a spare while we head over. Speaking of which, we've wasted enough time here. You ready to get started?"

You tilt your head in the general direction of the other half of the gym. V doesn't share the same enthusiasm as you, but he has other reasons to happily comply.

"Oh, wait before we head over - here." He reaches out to grab your hand as you turn, ignoring the shudder down his spine to enclose your fingers around a small white box.

You inspect the case as he lets you go. "What's this?"

"It's a fitness tracker. I overheard you mention something about losing yours, so I bought this for you as thanks for helping me out. I' can help you set it up later."

"Aw, that's so sweet of you, Vince." You lightly jab his shoulder. "I knew you'd be a good guy once we got you away from that monitor."

V laughs off the pain as he rubs the sore spot on his arm. You had no idea.

-

"And that's how you do a proper push-up. Remember to keep your feet spread at shoulder-width and try to stay off your knees. Think you got it this time, V?"

"I might need...just a little more guidance."

This has got to be the smartest thing he's ever done. There was the very real consequence of every bone and muscle in his body screaming at him when he got home, but V had no cares for any future besides the one where he could watch you bend over to touch your toes again. V wasn't the best at following instructions with one demonstration alone, so you had to perform most workouts twice or even three times depending on the position you were in. Showing off the different ways you could make your body contort and stretch - it made V sweat more than all of the exercise he had to do.

"Alright, then get back down here." You pat the mat besides you. V dives to the floor and places his hands down just like you told him. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he straightens his legs and lifts. Your hands fly out and rest right beneath his sternum, sinking into the tightened muscles as his lungs eject a wheezed breath.

" I told you, try not to let your stomach hit the floor when you lower yourself. Keep yourself as steady as you can."

Feeling the sudden urge to not disappoint, V does as many pushups as he can before his limbs give out at eleven. You call it there and tell him to catch his breath. He heads over to the benches where your water bottles sat. You thought it was such a funny coincidence you had the same bottle. V switches his with yours and downs the water as you roll up the mats and put them back where they belong. The liquid had never tasted more saccharine than it did then.

-

Returning home, V body immediately failed on him as soon as he dragged himself through the door. He hobbled himself over to the couch and collapsed as if his bones weighted tons. He could not do that four days a week. Fatigue overwhelms him - he almost didn't hear his phone going off with a new notification. You must've set up the watch without him and gone on another late night jog. At least this time he knows what route you're going in, and so he lets exhaustion catch up to him without fuss.

[ladylooch]

would love to read anything about Nico <33 I loveee the blurbs you’ve done w him already so similar vibes to those maybe??

thank you x

A/N: Thank you for asking for more of this! It has been a stressful first week of playoffs, so let's end it with some softness from What my World Spins Around AU. I know I posted for this AU earlier today, but I just really love these two. Thank you for encouraging me to write them.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Swearing, tears/angst, fluff.

I’m having a bad day.

A few minor disturbances happened earlier like half the grocery list being out of stock and having to make an extra trip to a different store. Then I needed to stop and get gas. I pulled up to an unmarked, broken pump, having to circle around multiple times to wait for a new one. On my way up to our apartment, one of the grocery bag handles broke and smashed our eggs into the elevator floor. None of these things are big problems, but enough little things have compounded into me feeling like I am inept at existing.

This is awful timing, I think as I stir the onions and garlic in pancetta fat. I’m making Cacio e Pepe for dinner tonight. Because I am desperate for comfort food and Nico is in-between games.

Of course this would happen in the middle of the Devils playoff series with the Rangers when Nico is so focused on hockey that I only exist when I speak directly to him. I glance over my shoulder at my fiancé. His eyebrows are drawn low while he looks at his iPad stacked with clips from the Rangers Power Play. I sniff a bit, wiping at my runny nose from the few tears that have sporadically leaked out while I’ve been at the stove. This catches Nico’s attention.

“Are you okay, babe?” He asks, pausing his video and drilling his brown eyes into me.

“Yeah, the onions made my eyes water.” I lie. These are small problems that I’m not going to bother him with.

“You need those goggles.” He jokes, starting the video up again. The lack of interaction makes my body sag glumly. I feel invisible to him.

I toss the cheese, pasta lemon juice and pasta water together. The dish comes together quickly. A few spritz of seasonings has us sitting down to eat within ten minutes. I grab my glass of red wine, sucking down two glugs of it before slowly twirling my pasta onto my fork. Nico has already been eating, watching the Carolina and Islanders game play out in the living room. I’m scrolling through Instagram, looking for something funny to lift this dark cloud.

“This is amazing, baby. Thank you.” Nico murmurs, running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. An insurance commercial plays out on the screen, so I’m getting his undivided attention.

“I’m glad you like it.” I respond, not looking up at him, but turning the app off to focus on dinner.

Nico stills with his fork close to his mouth, reading me like an open book. When I don’t meet his gaze, his fork continues to his lips. He chews slowly, then slides his bowl to the side. His hand comes across the counter, stilling mine from nudging my pasta around. 

“What’s up?” I shake my head. “No. What’s up.”

“It’s stupid.” I huff.

“I doubt that.”

“I’m just having a bad day.” I push out. My lip wobbles weakly, so I tuck it into my mouth and bite down hard.

“Were those real tears, not onion tears?” I nod my head as one spills from my lashes. “Sweets.” He sighs, scooting his chair closer to me. He encloses me in a warm, soft embrace. His designer sweatshirt is a thick, comfy fabric that brushes welcomingly against my skin. I slide my hands up his thighs to his back, clinging to him. 

I feel so dumb and dramatic. Nothing bad has even happened. Why do I feel this way?

“Will you talk to me?” He asks against my hair, breath tickling my scalp.

“There really isn’t anything to talk about.” I sniff, weaving my hand between our bodies to wipe at my eyes. 

“You’re crying.” He points out simply.

“I’m just being dramatic.”

“You’re rarely like this.” He shakes his head, pulling back to see my face. His thumb and pointer finger tilt my chin up.

“I don’t want to be a distraction to you. You have more important things to focus on than me.”

“What’s more important to me than you?” His hand sneaks beneath the hem of my t-shirt and rubs along the length of my spine. I say nothing, just stare at him with my red, tear-rimmed eyes. I shake my head. “Yeah, nothing.” He knows that’s not what I meant. “Come here.” His hands work themselves under my thighs to move me into his lap. I look down into his face. I raise my fingers to trace along his nose and cheek bones, purposefully avoiding those dewey brown eyes. “Baby.” He finally tires of my avoidance.

“I think I just miss you.” I finally bubble out, tucking my falling hair behind my ear.

“I’m right here.”

“You know you’re not.” He pauses, staring back at me with measured eyes. “It’s fine.” I try to walk it back. “I’m marrying the captain; I know what I signed up for.” My fingers reach out and fiddle with the strings of his hoodie, hanging down his chest. “I think I just want to go to bed.” Nico says nothing. He lets me crawl off his lap, hands falling to hang by his sides. I grab my phone, leaving my dishes and untouched food on the counter. I can feel his gaze burrowing into my back as I head to our bedroom.

Nico comes in after the Canes- Islanders game ends. 

“You’re not wrong.” He mumbles to me as he pulls his sweatshirt off his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, not really wanting to get into it. “Hey.” His tone softens further. “I love you even when hockey consumes every moment of our lives.”

“I know. I love you too.” I avoid his eyes, picking at a piece of loose skin by my thumb nail.

Nico comes to the end of the bed, crawling up my body so he lays completely on top of me. his weight smothers me into the bed. He wiggles his cheek between my breasts. Reaching to his right, he places my hand on top of his hair. I do my part, weaving my fingers into his hair, kneading his scalp.

“I know this is hard for you. Thank you.” I lace our other hands together, squeezing his fingers in acknowledgement.

We are quiet for a few minutes. I lean forward, pressing my lips to his head. Nico sighs, settling deeper into my chest, breathing light. Eventually, his soft snores begin to ripple my shirt. I wrap my leg around his body, letting my foot rest against his solid thigh. I close my eyes, ignoring the fact that the bedroom light is on. Nico feels so good right here in my arms, nothing could move me.

My lips spread into a coy smile, taking comfort in knowing I’m the only person in the world who gets to see him like this. 

[totisviribus]

An ADHD Morning

I set seven alarms so I don't oversleep. I couldn't sleep last night because I was researching ancient Rome on Wikipedia until 2am so I am bleary tired. My coffee maker is moldy from last week's brew and I don't even consider cleaning it, I just know that I won't be having coffee this morning.

I forgot to shower the night before, but now I don't have enough time to do it this morning, I got up too late. I use dry shampoo and hope my hair doesn't look greasy (it does). I scrape it into a messy pony tail that will give me a migraine but it's the only way it looks acceptable. My finger nails are stumps of dried blood because I picked at them all night. The inside of my lip is swollen and bleeding because I couldn't stop chewing on it, thinking about how I could ruin today. My eyebrows need to be plucked. My face is covered in acne because I never remember to take my makeup off before I fall asleep.

My bedroom is a sea of clothes, piled high to obscure the wooden floors. One hamper has some clean clothes in it, I know, but I have forgotten which one. My ironing board is under the piles somewhere, but it's broken, so I'll have to try to use the anti-wrinkle spray on the sweater I fish off the floor and hope it looks okay. It's already been forty minutes, how has the time passed this way? I will be late now, no hope of arriving on time. My sweater is covered in cat hair. Where is the lint roller? I look through the piles and can't find it. I spend ten minutes looking for tape to make a make-shift lint roller and it doesn't really work.

My dresser is filled with empty makeup tubes, used makeup wipes, glasses wipes, and used lint roller sheets. I pick out the products I use and quickly do my makeup on my unclean skin.

Purse. I need my purse. Which purse did I use last? Which has my wallet in it? I walk past the piles on the floor of my apartment, past the dirty dishes, past the mound of art supplies on my desk. I find my purse on the floor under my desk. Okay.

Socks? I need socks. My socks might show when I sit down in these too-tight too-short pants. I have to find matching ones. Clean ones? No, that's too much of a reach. I must just find matching ones. I search, digging through the floor piles. I find two that do not match, but are the same color. Good enough.

Fifteen minutes late. My cat chirps as he brushes against my leg. Oh! My little friend! He's so cute and sweet. My sister loves to get pictures of him, so I'll take one for her. Look up here, Blue! So cute. I should really update the instagram I made for him, I've met so many people who have the same type of cat. I should edit some photos of him today to post. He makes me so happy. I feel so lucky I get to have a cat and such a sweet, loving one like Blue. How many people get to have such a great pet? I'm so thankful for him, and I tell him so while I scratch his face the way that makes him purr.

I text my sister the picture. She tells me to have a good day. I try to find a cute GIF to send her to tell her to have a good day too. Here's one with Snoopy. She'll like that.

I also need to feed Blue. There are a dozen empty, smelly cans on the counter of cat food, but I pick a new one out of the box they were shipped in and put it in his dish with a random measuring spoon because all my other silverware is dirty.

Bag. I need to pack a bag. Laptop, keys, tissues, pens, notebook, headphones, charging cable for my phone. Is that everything? And my wallet, of course! Aha. That would be bad if I forgot that.

My shoes are dirty and scuffed but I don't have time to fix them. What kind of coat? I don't check the weather. I pick out a thin yellow one that I like. I've always liked bright colors. This will cheer me up to wear it. Bag, coat, keys, phone...where is my phone?

I have headphones on, listening to a YouTube video on two times speed, but I don't know where my phone is. I don't have time for this! But I can't leave without my phone.

It's deep in the covers of my bed. I don't remember putting it there between sending the GIF to my sister and now, but no matter. I found it.

It's twenty degrees and raining. I have no umbrella and my spring coat is incredibly inappropriate for the weather.

I've left my car on the street for a few days in an area that is only for 3-hour parking. The parking tickets are stacked on the windshield. I owe the city about $400 in parking tickets and I keep getting letters from the police that they'll boot my car if I don't pay. I messed up the days on my budget spreadsheet, so I won't be able to pay them for another month.

I have no gas. I check the miles my car estimates I can go with the amount left and compare it to what my GPS says. Just enough. Maybe. It'll be okay. I can't get gas now.

I forgot to brush my teeth. I forgot my laptop charging cable. I forgot to take my medication, and I forgot to bring my medication with me to take my second dose. When I finally arrive at my destination, I don't remember that my debit card fell between the seat in my car yesterday while getting coffee at the drive-thru. So I leave without it. I also forgot to put deodorant on.

I wonder what my coworkers would think of me if they knew about my messy apartment, my poor hygiene, my lack of planning skills. Will they notice my teeth aren't brushed? Do I have any gum, mints, anything?

My coworker sees me come in late with in an oddly-fitting outfit and messy hair, but I greet them happily when I come in. They say that everyone forgets things sometimes and lends me their laptop charger. I'll forget to return it, but they don't know that yet. They don't know about my kitchen or my bedroom or my clothes or my unwashed face or my parking tickets. They don't know that without my medication I will be useless for the entire day and get nothing done, making more work for them.

I'm an excellent actress. I pretend to be like everyone else, and somehow I pass the test every time. I'm a shy, kind, young woman - they would never suspect there is a moldy box of forgotten take out food in my backseat that I'll discover in a few days. People socialized as female are expected to be neat, organized, in control. They don't even consider that I might not be those things.

"What did you bring for the potluck today?" my coworker asks.

The ingredients I bought for the dish I signed up to make are rotting in my fridge, forgotten as soon as I put them there after shopping two weeks ago. I didn't think to buy them closer to today. I also didn't think to put the pot luck on my calendar.

I make up an elaborate story about how my boyfriend needed to be picked up from a far-away job site last night. She believes me and I feel I don't deserve it.

I wish I wasn't a good actress.

[aclowntiny]

It's Not Easy Being Green- Jongho x Female!Writer!Reader

woohoo this title is a pun because green like new but also drink haha get it??? MORE COFFEE SHOP MORE >:) but we get to mix it up, no barista!reader this time hehe. Also, Jongho with glasses???? I simp

Word Count: 3089 | Coffee Shop, Fluff, Faint Angst | Warnings: I mention Fifty Shades of Grey just by title lmao

The sun remained faint beneath the cover of clouds and morning. A cool breeze blew, blessing what bits of Jongho's skin it could reach. He sighed to himself at the release, having just left a morning gym session and still feeling a tad bit sweaty despite wiping off.

As he shook out his hair, Jongho spotted a café two doors down from his position, deciding to stop in on the way back and get an iced coffee. Anything to cool off and regain some much-needed energy.

He was second in line despite it being so early. The girl in front of him probably had work, he considered. She did have a laptop case in hand, after all, though it didn’t appear she was dressed up. Huh.

When she was done ordering, he stepped up to the counter, ordering a caramel iced coffee from the kind shop owner, a lady about ten or fifteen years older than Jongho himself, before making his way to a seat. The girl that had been in front of him in line was now sitting at the table adjacent to his; she had pulled out her laptop, typing away as she waited. Wow, hard worker.

A few scrolls on his phone later, Jongho glanced up to watch the woman shuffle happily over to his table neighbor, placing a cup down with a smile and a “Here you go, (y/n). What are you working on today?”

The girl, (y/n) apparently, smiled back. She had a kind smile. “The same one as usual,” she sighed, “but you know I love it.”

“I do. You know I’ll read it when you finish, right?”

“If I finish it.”

“You will. I know you will. You're so close.”

“Thanks, Dahye-eonni.”

Jongho couldn’t help but smile to himself at the warm interaction. Clearly the lady was friendly to regulars, doing more than just serving them coffee. He couldn’t help but feel curious about what the girl was working on, though. Glancing over, he met her eyes, prompting her to smile, so he took his chance.

“I heard you’re here to work- what is it you’re making?”

“Well, I write, which you probably guessed by the reading comment,” you answer with a chuckle.

“Like essays or a book?”

“Novels, yeah.”

“What are they about?” Jongho found himself asking before he could stop and think.

She got shy suddenly, her eyes dropping from his. “Well, I won’t go on and on, but I can tell you a bit about what it’s about.”

“Sure.”

The café owner, Dahye as (y/n) called her, slid in and dropped Jongho’s drink off as he listened to (y/n), making a joke about her bringing more regulars in.

“She’s here every other morning for a matcha latte and a quiet place to write,” the woman explained with a smile as she looked back and forth, “doesn’t she have an amazing imagination?”

She sure did have some big ideas for her story, things Jongho would have never even considered. He had some artistic skills, sure, but crafting characters and stories like that wasn’t what he’d call his forte. And the fact that (y/n) did it almost as second nature?

“Yes, she does.”

The way she beamed alone was worth the comment.

~

It wouldn’t hurt to stop by that café again. Dahye was nice, the coffee was good, it was a nice place.

The image of (y/n) flashed in Jongho’s head. The coffee was good, he repeated to himself simply.

She was there. Jongho saw her seated already by the time he’d entered, laptop out. He found his eyes scanning the stickers on its (y/f/c) surface, taking in the things she liked before they flicked over her face. She looked focused, determined, eyes not even leaving the screen when she took a drink, reaching blindly but straight for her matcha and bringing it to her lips as she typed with one hand.

Chuckling, he crossed the stained concrete to the simple white cash register, venturing a protein latte since he wasn't looking forward to what Wooyoung was making for breakfast that morning.

The chairs were faintly bowl-shaped, Jongho falling a bit into their embrace as he took a seat at the same table as last time. The one facing (y/n).

For the first time, she looked up from her screen, LED light reflected in her eyes as she gave Jongho a smile, one he immediately returned.

"You come from the gym, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Look at you being all healthy and stuff," you teased, one corner of your lips quirking up a bit more.

He shrugged, amusement playing on his own expression. "I just enjoy staying active."

"I wish I had that," (y/n) replied, glancing down a bit, cheekily sheepish.

"If you did, though, we wouldn't have your great stories, right? I also wish I could do what you do, but you know what? You can train, get stronger and stronger, but the spark of telling a story is either there or it isn't. It's hard to make yourself good at understanding characters, you know?"

Nodding, (y/n) peered into Jongho's eyes with wide ones, the color of which really was quite nice. "I guess I never thought about that before. That sounds like something out of a book, though!" You both giggled at that.

"Well, work it in then," Jongho teased.

"If it ever fits in, I will. Guess I need to write a writer."

"Well, you'd know how to do that."

"Are you kidding? Half my job is just staring at a word doc. It's like this meme. Hold on," you told him as you reached into your pocket for your phone.

~

He'd gotten up a little earlier and worked a little harder. Thoughts of his plan both sped him up and spurred him on, suddenly making his gym trip seem secondary- a stepping stone along the way, albeit a sweaty, barbell-laden one.

Jongho had decided to buy (y/n) her latte for her this morning. Dahye greeted him with a wave and used his name, cementing his unwitting regular status as he leaned on the counter. The woman gave a smile that rose straight to her eyes when he ordered both a caramel iced coffee and a matcha latte.

"Oh?" She inquired, gaze boring into Jongho's.

"I decided to surprise (y/n) with it. Would you mind making it for her when she comes in?"

"Not at all," the kind woman answered, clicking the pen she held in her hand out, in, out, in, "Are you going to stay and watch?"

"Of course," it was Jongho's turn for a scheming look, "but not from my regular spot, I'm going to hide around the corner."

The café seating area was L-shaped, stretched around the kitchen and treated to a minor visual separation in the form of a small decorative trellis. Jongho positioned himself behind ivy to wait for both his coffee and (y/n).

The bell tinkled. He'd timed it well, then, (y/n) arriving right before his own drink was done. She stood, laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and waited a few moments while Dahye puttered around the kitchen, pouring this and measuring that. Enough pours and measures and a frown of confusion furrowed (y/n)'s brow, though she remained in place, hand fiddling with the strap of her rectangular computer bag.

"Sit, sit," Dahye finally urged, popping from behind the counter to wave her hand forward and back at (y/n) as if shooing a bug, not a woman, "I'll be right there."

Jongho had to suppress a laugh at (y/n)'s confused face, brow furrowing even harder and eyes squinting slightly. This was turning into far more than he thought it would.

(y/n) slid into her usual seat and pulled out her laptop with a shrug. Just as she was opening up the program she wrote on, though, Dahye appeared at her side with a mug of steaming green.

"You didn't take my order," she told the older woman.

"I didn't need to," Dahye shot back, "it's been covered already."

"Wha-"

Jongho chose this moment to pop out from behind the ivy with a wave and a small "surprise!"

(y/n)'s eyes looked like she'd been handed a winning lottery ticket, not her go-to drink order. "Really?"

"Absolutely. You've been working really hard, it sounds like, so I just wanted to take a bit of burden off of you, maybe make you smile?"

"You did," (y/n) replied, beaming, "my manuscript is almost done and it has been really stressful. I feel like a disgusting little hermit, but I want to be submission ready more than anything."

"You don't look like a disgusting little hermit," both Jongho and Dahye chimed in at the same time, followed by a shared glance and smirk from the latter, which caused the former to suddenly break contact uneasily.

"You guys are too sweet," (y/n) giggled, taking a sip of her free drink with a little shoulder dance of joy at its taste.

"We're your fan club," Dahye remarked, "though I think Jongho here is taking over as president."

He started. What did she mean by that? "I'm sure I'll be an even bigger fan when I read the whole novel. Good luck, (y/n)." And with that, he took up the iced coffee he'd purchased and strode out, giving the writer one last smile and wave.

~

"Ok, this is it!"

Two more café visits later, (y/n) had hermited her way into having a submission-worthy format on her novel. Her words, not Jongho's, though he'd been there for some of it about four days past, hours of staring and clicking with some breaks to talk about her characters or worries that no one would want to read what she was writing.

"I'm sure they will. I mean, look, Fifty Shades of Grey sold and all people do is make fun of how badly written and uncomfortable it is. Your sentences actually sound intelligent and contribute something good to people's brains."

She giggled at that. Jongho's straightforwardness was refreshing to her, she'd told him. No need to question his motives or anything like that. "You probably give the best criticism, too."

He hadn't thought about that before, but a sudden wave of motivation to give her the best criticism if she asked it of him had hit when she'd commented that.

She wrung a napkin in one hand as the other hovered over the track pad of her laptop in preparation to submit. Before clicking, she paused, a few heartbeats passing as she glanced between her now-empty matcha mug and Jongho. "Wait."

"What?"

"Should I change the tagline on the cover here? It looks corny now, I feel like I could put out better. But what quote would I use?"

"I like that one you posted on the graphic on your instagram the other day," Jongho suggested with an approving nod.

(y/n)'s eyes lit up, their lovely color shining as bright as ever as sunbeams cut through the latticed windows of the shop, stopping in their tracks upon reaching her irises. "You followed my writing page?"

"Of course," Jongho responded with a soft smile, "I'm in your fan club, remember?"

She smiled. Backspaced. Typed. Submitted. "I feel confident now. That was all I needed," she told him, reaching over to lay her hand over his as it rested on the table.

Confident was how she should feel, Jongho's brain managed to override his somersaulting heart, how she should view herself all the time. Capable. Skilled. Wonderful at what she does. Pleasant. No, a joy. He wanted to be what she needed again. And maybe again and again.

"No, you're the president, remember?" Dahye strode by with another customer's dishes in hand, chiding Jongho with a wink.

Ignoring that, he pulled out his phone to show you a writing meme he thought you would like, grinning widely when you showed him you saved a gym one to show him.

~

Something was wrong, Jongho could see that the moment he detected the absence of (y/n)'s laptop or its bag at her table. He still ordered her drink, maintaining the custom he'd begun a handful of trips back, but he asked Dahye if she knew anything.

"Stop her from spouting that nonsense," the woman told him, "you're the only one that can."

"What does that mean? Why are you always saying things like that?"

The café owner just looked at him, dark eyes daring his. "I think you know why, free matcha boy. Now get over there. She's more blue than green today, at least for now. You're the one to add that sunshine yellow."

Jongho squinted into her nonsense. "I think you've been hanging out with the literary types too much."

"Just get in there and cheer my other regular up. I'll bring you two donuts."

"Just one, I'm not a big donut person."

"No, you have all the sweetness you need, don't you?"

There was no defending himself from the remark, not when his eyes involuntarily slid (y/n)'s way at the mention of sweetness. Sighing at the way her head fell into her bent arms, he strode over to her table, taking the seat next to her instead of the one across from her like usual. Heart beating a little faster, he tentatively raised a hand, hovering it over her back before thinking better of it.

"(y/n), are you alright?"

She shook her head, glancing up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I got rejected."

Jongho's heart was really hammering then; any moment it might burst out of his ribcage. "What kind of fool would reject you?"

"I told you people wouldn't be interested in the type of story I told. Not enough drama. Not that they said that, of course they had to be vague and just say it wasn't what they were looking for so I don't even know how to improve! I don't even know what I have to change, and with that I can't grow into an actually good writer-"

"Whoa," Jongho interrupted, leaning a bit closer to her with a jolt of pleasure at the feeling of their arms brushing against each other, "I'm going to have to stop you right there. You are a good writer. Remember how frustrated you were with your classmates in college barely having elementary sentence skills? That's because they aren't good like you are. Have you heard Dahye talk lately? She's become more and more colorful thanks to you. The way you put the world out there, even if it isn't this one, has changed the way she sees everything."

"It has?" She sniffled, sitting up a bit.

"It has," Jongho repeated, "and your story doesn't need to become something it's not over one rejection. Harry Potter got rejected, like, five or eight times. Would you say Harry Potter was not successful?"

"No," (y/n) muttered, shaking her head.

"And this is only your first try. Sometimes we crash, but that doesn't mean we're destroyed."

"I feel destroyed," she replied quietly, "I don't want to write anymore."

"You don't have to right now, but don't stop doing something you love because one person doesn't like it. You have plenty of followers, you have Dahye and me, and we all like it just how it is. I never want you to feel destroyed. I like you too much."

A single tear slid from her widening eye, cutting a glistening path down the lovely curve of her cheek. "You like me?"

Jongho gasped, not really having planned on confessing like that, but he was nothing if not straightforward. No going back now. "I do. I only kept coming to this café to see you," he answered.

"I knew it!" Dahye called from the kitchen. That got a shaky chuckle even from (y/n), who ventured a bigger smile when Jongho's face lit up at her returned mirth.

Once again, he felt spurred on, like that runner's high that hits or the determination to finish a set, though expressing one's feelings was a far different exercise than pull-ups or a good jog were.

"I kept coming to see you and I really wanted to make your burdens lighter. That's why I kept buying your drinks. I just wanted to take care of you a little, especially if you weren't doing it yourself. I like the idea of being there to take care of you. To hear every bit of your stories from your own mouth. That's the effect you have on me, and I'm sure you could have it on countless other people if you put yourself out there and let them know you."

(y/n) just stared at him, eyes still wide, smile faltering and rising again tentatively.

"You, er," Jongho rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward over the whole monologue, "don't have to worry about all the me stuff or answer that, but please keep writing, alright? You felt so confident the other day- don't lose that over one opinion, ok?"

"You're right," she breathed, nodding shakily, "it was like this in writing workshop, too. People tore one of my stories apart because one of the characters was too one-dimensional and one of my professors only craved extreme drama. I can't let that get into my head. Everyone is different. It's just...hard when you pour hours in and they don't like it. But it's like you said, I love to write. I do it subconsciously every day, imagining how I would describe things in words. I physically can't stop," she chuckled, the playful lilt returning a bit, "and I really won't if that's what got you to like me back."

"Back?" Jongho's face lit up again, awkwardness melting away like butter.

"That's right. I was getting a little worried my love interest character was going to shift gears and become a strong, athletic sweetheart if I didn't keep the reins on it."

"Well, I like your character's love interest as he is, just like the rest of your amazing story that you need to submit to more, better publishers that actually have taste, but could I try out being your love interest?"

"Wow, you just dropped feedback, a corny line, a diss, and flirted with me in one incredibly long sentence," (y/n) commented, dabbing tears off her face with a napkin, "how could I say no? I'd love to go out with you."

"Good. I already know what I want to do."

You gave one final sniff. "What's that?"

"I want to hear you read to me."

[cozfics]

Hi!! I saw you write for linked universe and also that your requests are open—could you do a Legend x reader enemies to lovers?? :00 thanks in advance xoxo

-✨anon

Word count:2.86k

Tw:blood, violence, swearing, blades

Notes:if it seems like two different people wrote this its because i took a month between the start and end

You let out a heavy groan as you saw the familiar red tunic. Great, of course, he was coming to bother you. That made perfect sense with the kind of day you had been having. You had burned your breakfast, ripped your favorite set of pajamas, and arrived late to work, soaked because you had lost your umbrella and it was raining cats and dogs outside. So why wouldn’t that prick arrive at your doorstep today? The perfect way to top off your day. Listen you get that he was the hero and tons of people in the village swooned because ‘ who wouldn’t want a man that could protect you.’ or whatever, but they didn’t have the pleasure of interacting with the hero. He was rude, short, snippy, and sarcastic. The one time he had saved you instead of making sure you were okay after a monster attack he had shoved your goods in your arms, calling you an idiot for being out at night. As if he hadn’t also been out at night, the same age as you. Those who wanted to date him and knew him had to be after him for his title you had decided.

“Oh no, we aren’t doing this shit today. Get out.” The words left your mouth the second your inn’s door opened, leaving the boy who had opened the door, who was very notably not Legend, frozen for a moment. He had straight hair and a multi-colored tunic. He was kinda small too, did you just yell at a child. Damn, you felt bad now. “Sorry... Thought you were someone else.” You mumbled quickly, embarrassed.

A one-eyed man walked in, armed to the teeth and his armor catching the light. Dear god if that was the child’s father you were screwed. Thankfully he didn't mention your outburst, just looked around.

“Do you have enough room for nine guests?” He asked after a moment. That’s a lot of guests but… You had ten rooms, four were currently occupied. That’s six rooms, two beds each. Plenty of space.

“Yeah, we got enough for nine guests. Two beds in each room that would be five rooms. How long are you staying?” You asked, writing the information down in your log.

“Just for the night.” The one-eyed intimidating man answered. While you had been talking with him other people who looked vaguely similar to him (And to the single most annoying creature in the world.) had pooled into your lobby. Though you only counted seven people. It was then that you heard it. That annoying, sarcastic, no one can ever get close to me so I must push everyone away and insult them bastard. He’s being dragged in by a man in a blue scarf, complaining the whole way.

“Listen, I’m just saying I’m sure we can make it to the next town before setting up camp.” The twig of a man insisted.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s already sunset and we’d like to sleep in a bed since an inn is right here. Now are you gonna get your head out of your ass or am I going to have to fix that for you”

The cause of all your woes, (Or, at least you’re going to blame him because it’s nice to have something to blame, and his attitude makes it SO easy-), opened his mouth, as if he was about to reply, but you cut him off

“Ah, If the hero is with you, one hundred fifty rupees for the night per room. If it’s coming out of his wallet.” You leaned on the counter, deciding you would go the overly civil route this time since blowing up had almost blown up in your face. “Link, always a pleasure.”

“Bullshit, We both know you charge one hundred per room” Link narrowed his eyes.“Unless it’s you, my dearly hated customer.” You wouldn’t admit that you dearly enjoyed bickering with him. It was always fun, bringing up your mood.“So what, I don’t get a discount for saving your life… Or saving Hyrule?”

“Oh, you do. But it’s quickly wiped out and then some by the ‘just being an asshole’ tax.” you hummed. “But it'll actually be five hundred rupees for the nine of you to stay the night. Will you be staying for breakfast?”

“With your shitty cooking? I’d like to leave here alive, thank you very much.” Link huffed, narrowing his eyes at you. You scribbled that down.

“Alright, I’ll show you to your rooms.” You hummed. You put your hands on the desk and pushed yourself up. This would be good money at least. 500 rupees is 500 rupees. And it’s not like you really had to deal with Legend. He’d be in his room the whole time.

As soon as the boys had been settled into their rooms you decided to head out for a walk. It was a nice warm night, the moon and stars lit the way through the woods. In your arms, you held some leftover food that you planned to feed to some of the wild animals you had befriended over the past few years running the inn. It even kept them from attacking random travelers and they protected you when monsters struck. Now you didn’t need Link’s help. You never wanted to have to rely on that prick's presence again. You can save your own damn self. You had saved up, bought a sword, and taught yourself pretty well you had decided. After all, it had served its purpose.

You set down the food for the animals and drew your sword. It was simple and effective. A one-handed sword. No engravings or fancy handles. You had set up a few homemade training dummies. It helped some travelers and it allowed you to practice your skills. A great addition to your inn. You swung your sword a few times at the dummies before you heard a voice call out from behind you.

“Your form is all wrong, you could be knocked over by a gust of wind”Ah, yes. Just what you wanted to hear today.

“I could still kick you out.” You swung again, not bothering to spare Link a glance. “And I’ve been able to hold myself fine. Thank you very much.”

“Able to hold yourself well till now. Why won’t you take valid criticism that might save your life.” Legend huffed. “Fuck, this is why I hate whenever I have to stay here. You can’t take any fucking criticism. Your stubborn and hard-headed!”

“Oh, and here I thought it was because you were just a prickly bitch who loses years off their life just from having to interact with the public.” You rolled your eyes. “Suck my dick Link.”

“Listen I’m trying to help you genuinely.” Link said after a moment. You assume he was probably trying not to blow up at you. He sounded sincere…

“Okay, Okay. Show me how I should be standing then.” You decided you would let him help you.

Link walked closer to the dummy, quickly taking your place. He began to walk you through it. Explaining how low your body should be, how far apart your legs should be, how to swing your sword and follow through.Now it was your turn. All of this felt off, your feet felt wrong.

“It feels odd.” You complained.

“That’s because you’ve been practicing wrong.” Link responded. You swung at the dummy, and well. It definitely left more of an impact than you had been making before.

“Alright fine, fine you were right”

“Oh, Words I never tire of hearing” He smirked. And there he is again. The annoying ass cocky attitude.

“Alright, I’ll be heading in for the night. Don’t get yourself killed.” He waved goodbye as he walked away.

Okay. Maybe the hero of Legends wasn’t a complete self-centered asshole, doesn’t mean that you had to swoon over him though. He was just a person. An annoying person.The next morning as the boys were filtering out you overheard the conversation of some of your other guests,

Apparently, there were two groups of ‘black-blooded’ monsters. Each about a half day’s travel away in opposite directions. You hoped that they would stay away, you didn’t feel like putting the sword practice into action any time soon.Later that night half of Link’s group came in, beaten and bloodied. But Link was nowhere to be seen.

You began to send them to their rooms, but you couldn’t help but ask where Link was. It took them a moment to think, you’d probably blame exhaustion for that.

“We split up, our group agreed to meet here… They should be here shortly.” Weird face marking guy supplied.

Thankfully it only took an hour before the second group came back. They seemed to be in better shape than the first group. Though the one with a shaggy head of brown hair was unconscious. You lead them to their rooms. Now that everyone was inside you went to follow through with your nightly ritual And partway through Link joined you again.This kept happening frequently for three months.

You had caught several odd conversations between Legend’s group. Apparently, They had been calling Link Legend. You had overheard them talking about a black Lizalfros, how the fact black-blooded monsters kept popping up near the hotel must mean he was near, and about how it was odd they had been around so long.You didn’t really know what to make of it, and it really wasn’t your place, so you ignored it.

You went out to practice your sword skills with Legend. It was his idea. He said it would prepare you better than some idle dummies.

“Ready to go down hero?” you teased, doing a fancy twirl with your sword.

“If only I had 5 rupees for every time I heard that. I’d be rich.”

“And Ravio would manage to drain you of all of it” You grinned. “Come on.”

You didn’t even make it to him. There was an ambush. Damn, you for making the training area so far away. You just didn’t want to disturb the sleeping guests! Monsters surrounded you two. Most of them looked unfamiliar. Legend looked like he wanted to tell you to run, but being totally honest, you couldn’t run even if you had wanted to. There were too many. You had to fight. Thank god for the sword training.

You got into a fighting stance quickly moving to launch yourself towards the monster, thankfully it was slow and clumsy. Your sword struck its flesh as a river of black flooded down. You pulled your sword free and landed with a roll, dodging another monsters club. The injured monster stumbled back, letting out a roar. You shot up, trying to take out the injured monster's leg. Just hoping to drop their numbers by one. You dragged the blade along their calf, jumping away quickly again, just barely keeping their claws from closing around you. Woah your body felt shaky and your brain was in overdrive. And if you were honest, you loved it.You shot up to slice at the monster's face. And this is when it went downhill.

You didn’t dodge the club this time. Pain exploded in your ribs and for a moment you could only see stars. However, you didn’t have the luxury of being able to lie on the ground to recollect yourself. You had to get up right then. And you did, you pulled yourself up. Unfortunately, you had been flung back and thanks to a cliff you were pinned. You didn’t have a lot of room to back up. It seems like while you had been fighting Legend had gotten himself into a similar situation.

One swing from a club and you were both tumbling down a cliff. You felt the air strain against your body as you fell. The absolute weightlessness of everything. Then a pair of arms around you as the ground got closer and you began to tumble along the jagged cliffside. Legend had held you to take the brunt of the fall. You tried to ignore the sickening crack that sounded at the initial contact with the rocks. You tumbled for moments, but to you, it felt like forever.

When you stopped rolling it was pretty dark. When you had rolled along the cliffside it would seem you two had managed to fall and land inside a cave.

A weight lifted as Legend pulled himself off of you and let out a string of curses. You turned to look to see what warranted calling the goddess the term for a female dog. Though you understood quickly after a quick glance. Legend’s leg had been the cause of the cracking sound. It would seem that you were both stuck here until you were found then. The cliff was far too steep for you to climb and the adventurer in this cave had a broken leg.

“We’ll be found in the morning” Legend sounded so sure of it. You could only nod in response.

“I… I’m going to try to find something to make a fire.” You decided after a moment. Yeah. You could use a fire. Legend’s leg needed to be cleaned, And honestly. It was as cold as Farore’s tits here. Legend just nodded along.

You managed to find sticks at least. And a stream of water. But it went back underground and you weren’t sure where or how long until it came back above ground. It wasn’t worth risking your life yet. You brought the sticks back and lit the fire. Legend had brought out a pot that he just had because of course he did. Fucking hoarder. You plopped down beside him while you waited for the water to boil.

“Sword training paid off at least.” You broke the silence.

“Yeah. It did. Good, wasn't that your goal?”

“Well… No, my goal was to make it to where you never needed to save me. And you still helped me during the fall so…”

“Oh.”

“But it’s different now. You weren’t an ass about it so it’s fine” You waved your hand a little.

“I… see.” He said, laying on his back and staring at the roof of the cave for a moment.

“Do you wanna hear a story?” He asked after it had gone silent again. Preferring that to silence I nodded.And with my confirmation, Legend just started talking. About anything from adventures to blacksmithing tips to how to play instruments. Keeping the silence at bay.

“And he just decided to stay at your house?”

“Yep. I was at a loss for words at how bold he was.” Legend sat up. “Who the hell just waltzes into someone's house during a time of crisis and asks to stay there-” he shook his head. “Fuck. I just want to relax.”

“I never realized it was that stressful being the hero. The stories that get back to us always paint you as some sort of stoic hero.”

“Well fuck that. I’m not stoic. I still feel. I feel tired and in pain. Most of the time I’m hungry. And I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone this but fuck, sometimes I’m even scared. And since I’m the hero, The one who’s been on more adventures than you can coin on one hand I’m apparently supposed to just be over it? What kind of bullshit is that? Seriously you tell anyone I’ll fucking stab you”

“Well yeah I mean it makes sense about how you act now. You just never wanted to drag anyone into this huh?”

“Well yeah I mean We hung around your inn too long and now look at us.”

“I mean. I’m not complaining. I kinda like it here. The cave has good company.” You smiled over at Legend, folding your hands over your stomach and laying beside him. “Company that speculation has it would be very good boyfriend material.”

“No. No instant rejection. Try to ask me in a better way and we’ll talk. Come on, that was shitty even for you.”

“Okay, okay I get the point.” You laughed. “Link. Over the last few months, I realize my feelings for you have changed. We’ve gotten closer. And I genuinely enjoy your company over most people. Would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend.” You asked.

Legend hummed.

“Come on! I just put my heart out for the world to see you prick!” You playfully swatted his arm.Legend smiled.

“Yeah yeah. Yes. I think I’d like that.”

“Yknow I was genuinely pissed when I saw you coming to my inn with your friends?” You admitted. “And goddesses I felt so bad when I yelled at the little boy in your group when he walked in. I thought he was you.”

“Wait… Wind wasn’t the first one to walk in. That was..” Legend began to cackle. A genuine smile, goddess you wouldn’t get over seeing that. “I’m never letting him hear the end of this. That was Four. He’s an adult”

“That was a man?!” You yelled.

[urfavoritedcwhore]

the russian boy//part seven

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of violence

lowercase intended

not proof read!(sorry i’m tired i'll proofread it tmrw)

!reminder! boris’s first language is not English, so in some parts he’ll be speaking broken English. the writing “mistakes” in his dialect is intentional:)

part seven: the warm heart

boris and i walk in the kitchen where he pulls out a few ice cubes from the freezer and wraps them in a dish towel. he places the makeshift ice pack in my hand and grabs the bottle of whiskey from the counter. "head back. it helps with the pain.", he says, his face inches away from mine. i tilt my head back and open my mouth as he pours the liquor into my parted lips. we repeat this two more times before i tell him im feeling the pain a little less now. he puts the bottle back down and smiles at me, "see, it helps, yes?", i giggle back feeling tipsy. "yes it definitely helps.", say smiling. he looks down at my (well his) sweater and says, "let's get you changed.". i look down and see a swipe of blood on the sweater from where i had unknowingly wiped my fist on it. "shit boris, i'm sorry.", i say genuinely as i remember it's his favorite sweater. he shrugs, "will come out when i wash.". "let's go to my house, my mom texted that she left the house key under the mat when she came home to change clothes.", i say making my way to the front door. "shes working?", boris asks me. "yea, she had a shift last night and got off pretty late so she stayed at a motel on the strip. she came home earlier today to change before her next shift. she should be home at like ten tonight though.", i tell him as we walk out the front door. it's odd not seeing my mom for so long. i mean sure i've went this long without seeing her, she always worked long hours, but being in this new place without her is just so strange to me. it was in boris's car on the way to school when i saw her text,

mom

hey lucy bug! had a longer shift than expected and was too pooped to drive home. spent the night at a cheap motel on the strip, headin home now to change and get ready for the next shift! should be home at about 10pm, i'll let ya know if anything changes. love you! be good!

it made me slightly annoyed that she would spend the night at a motel instead of coming home so i could drive my car this morning. now that was the last thing on my mind, i wasn't even annoyed with her anymore, i was too invested in everything that happened after english class that led to these last twenty minutes. as we arrive to my front door i pick up the mat and grab the key, i unlock the door and open it, letting the cigarette smell hit us both in the face. boris smiles, "you've been here a little more than 24 hours and already have a cigarette smell stuck to your house.", he says breathing in the smell of the foyer. "and a russian stuck to my hip.", i mumble, placing the key in my pocket and closing the door behind us. i go into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, when i see a note on the fridge,

      𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞 𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙧. 𝙞 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙧. 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙞'𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝, 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪!                

-𝙢𝙤𝙢🤍

fuck yeah. i was too hungover this morning to even think about eating, but now that the headaches past and i have more liquor in me, imma fuck up this food. listen, i know that it's not good to drink when your hungover, but when i was taking those shots i had completely forgotten how bad my stomach and head hurt. i was only thinking about how bad my bruised knuckles hurt, and trust me they fucking hurt. i open the fridge to find two togo boxes containing food from moms diner. i look over at boris, "jackpot!", i say shaking them. he grins at me taking one out of my hand and sitting at the kitchen table immediately. i sit across from him and we begin eating like it's the first food we've ever tasted. to be honest, the food was shit, but we hadn't eaten since last night. we finished our meals and both leaned back in our chairs satisfied. he smiled a crooked smile at me and got up from his chair, walking over to me. "go put on fresh clothes now new girl, you're beautiful, but a bloody shirt is not a good look for anyone.", he said pulling me out of my chair. i laughed, "wowww, so you're saying i need to put on something more sexy for you, huh?", i say raising my eyebrows. his face turns red, before he can answer i'm running up the stairs yelling, "wait there!". i go into my room and start digging through the box's of clothes until i find a tshirt that practically swallows me whole. i strip down to boris boxers and toss the Tshirt onto my body. as i leave my room, i pick up boris sweater and go to the laundry room. i toss the sweater in the washer with a generous amount of laundry detergent, start the cycle, and run back down stairs. "how's this for sexy?", i say striking a pose when i get in front of boris. he laughs, "very sexy new girl.", he says eying me up and down. he begins walking towards me, and just as he grabs my hips to pull me in for a kiss, his phone plays a song in a different language. "fuck!", he yells in frustration as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. "what's wrong?", i ask him looking at his phone. "is my father, i have to answer.", he says removing his other hand from my waist and bringing it to my face to cup my cheek. "don't move, i be quick, i swear.", he tells me before he walks from my living room into my kitchen. at first he speaks softly, in a tone i can hardly hear, but quickly forgets i'm only a few feet away in the living room and begins speaking in his normal tone. "да, папа....я думал, ты проведешь еще неделю в шахтах? ......я знаю, но я-", i assume his father cuts him off because when i turn to look at him his lips press together fast and his face turns a light shade of red. he takes a deep breath after a minute and begins talking again, "да, я понимаю. окей, да, я буду дома.", he says and puts his phone in his pocket. he walks back into the living room and sighs. "everything okay?", i ask slightly concerned. "yes, everything okay. my father will be home tonight, i thought he had to be at work for longer but i was wrong. we have to pick up theo and then i'll take you both home. you don't want to meet my father, he is...what is the word? eh, a dickbag?", he says explaining the phone call to me. "that's okay, no big deal. i should probably be here when my mom gets home anyways.", i tell him with a smile. if he wants alone time he doesn't have to lie about a deadbeat dad. yeah boris told me he drinks, but so does my mom, and she's not so bad.

he smiles a half smile and me and kisses me on my cheek, "thank you for understanding. i'll text theo and tell him we are on our way to pick him up, he should be done with his test by now.", he says typing a text to theo. before he's even done typing, he's taking my uninjured hand and leading me out my front door and into his driveway. he sends the text, i assume, because he puts his phone back in his pocket and opens the drivers side door and helps me crawl into the passenger seat, before getting in his seat and starting the car. we drive to school listening to music, talking, laughing, and holding hands like we're in some cheesy romance movie. as we pull into the school parking lot i turn down the music, "okay, remember, we're not telling theo about our...deal.", i say struggling to get out the word. boris brings a hand to his mouth, pretends zip it and lock it, then proceeds to give me the imaginary key. i smile, let go of his hand, and crawl into the backseat as i see theo waiting in front of the school. we park and theo opens boris’s door and crawls across boris to the passenger seat. before anyone can get one word out theo speaks, "lucy, everyone was talking about what happened. apparently kailey came out of the bathroom with a bruised nose and everyone saw. she claimed that someone opened a stall door on her face but i quickly shut down that rumor and told everyone what a badass you are. and thanks to yours truly, i don't believe anyone will fuck with you anytime soon.", he tells me with a small bow looking very proud of himself . boris laughs, "ha! yours truly? you didn't do anything, she punched her, she deserves credit, yes?", he said looking at theo amused. "yeah but if it weren't for ME people would have assumed that all she did was hit her nose, not got struck with the all mighty-ness of lucy gardeners fist, POW!", he said to boris pretending to throw a punch at him. the boys argued playfully about this subject for about five minutes before theo turned to me. "but seriously though, what happened? why'd you punch her?", he asked curiously with an eyebrow raised.

my face turned red as i tried to come up with a reasonable, sane excuse. boris looked in the rearview mirror, saw the worry on my face, and quickly came up with something. "kailey try to take her school bag, because she is new and kailey thinks she can mess with her and not get any consequences, yes? so new girl sees her pick it up and start to walk out. but just as the bitch thinks she is getting away with this, new girl spins her around, and tells kailey the bag is hers. kailey gets bitchy and tells her to come get if she wants. so, new girl does that. she punches that asshole in face, and gets her bag back.", boris explains to theo as he backs out of the parking lot and begins driving home. theo takes in almost every sentence with a gasp, then proceeds to turn back around to me, "badass.", he says with an approving nod. i smile at him and show him my bruised knuckles, "and i've got the marks to prove it.", i say as he examines my hand. "fuck dude, does it hurt?", he asks with concern. "well it did, but then i may or may not have drank a few shots of whiskey to numb the pain.", i say with a laugh. "and im guessing that was his idea?", he says nodding his head to boris. boris puts his hand over his heart dramatically, taking his eyes off the road for a spilt second and looks over to theo, "you know me too well potter. am flattered.", he says turning his head back to the road after his words, but not before giving me a quick wink in the rearview window that gave me butterflies. theo sat back in his seat and looked ahead at the road before speaking, "are we going to your house?", he asked boris i assume. "nie, dad is coming back tonight, i take you to my house to get popchyk, then i take you and new girl home.", he tells theo. "ah fuck i thought you had at least another week without him.", theo says in a tone that sounded disappointed. "is okay, he comes home early this time but will leave again room probably.", boris says almost likes he's trying to reassure theo. i don't understand what the big is about his dad coming home, i mean seriously is his dad really that bad? i guess i can imagine a drunk who screams, hell my mother has been that type of drunk before, but it's definitely nothing boris can't handle. if i can handle a screaming drunken parent, im sure boris will be just fine. we pull into boris's driveway as theo crawls across his lap and hops out of the drivers side door. he runs in the house, leaving boris and me alone. "good save, eh?", he says turning around to look at me. "yes very good story about how i punched a girl to get a bag of books back.", i say lifting my eyebrows and smiling. he smiles a crooked smile and places a hand on my leg squeezing it, before removing it quickly when we hear boris's front door open and close again. theo runs back to the car and yells through the window, "i'm gonna walk back! popchyk probably needs to take a shit!", he tells us before leaving the driveway and walking towards the curve that leads to more houses in our neighborhood. boris looks at me, and leans into the back seat to kiss me, which i swerve, "nuhuh, not so fast.", i wave my finger at him, "you've already gotten plenty of kisses today, and correct me if i'm wrong, but i seem to recall this being deal in which we explore eachothers minds before we explore anymore of eachothers lips.", i say with a cocky smile. he smiles back at me, "can you blame me for trying?", he says raising his eyebrows. i laugh and hop out of the car, and walk to his now rolled down window to give him a peck on the cheek. "talk to you later pavlikovsky!", i say turning around and walking to my door, almost sure i butchered his last name. i smile as i walked into my house, with a warm and unfamiliar feeling in my heart.

end of part seven, part eight out soon:)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Surviving the Flood

Prompt Day 6: Baking & Cookie Decorating | Word Count: 1200 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Future Fic, Long-Term Relationship, Fluff, Christmas, Baking Cookies, Eddie POV

"Eddie, no, don't…" Steve trails off, "...touch those yet." 

Well, his warning came a little too late, and now his thumb has made a crack right into the icing he thought was dry, but now his thumb is sitting in a pool of green Christmas tree icing. 

"Well, shit, sorry," Eddie says, putting the cookie down and reaching for a paper towel to wipe his hand. "I thought these were supposed to dry hard as a rock?"

Eddie definitely got that impression from the tutorials Steve has been watching on royal icing. Even Eddie's algorithm on his phone thinks he's obsessed with cookie making videos, now that Steve's decided to do this.

"They do. They will. It just takes hours. The ones over there are ready for their second layer," Steve says, picking the damaged cookie up and holding it up to Eddie's mouth. 

Eddie bites down, and chews. It's fine. But a little cuter than it is tasty, that's for damn sure. 

This isn't how his mom made Christmas cookies, not at all. Those were frosted with thick, soft, sweet icing, and he was welcome to decorate them in any haphazard fashion he desired. 

These, here in their kitchen today, have a blueprint. A very specific and planned out order of operations to achieve the finished look that Steve has in mind. So, Eddie's following the plans, today. Steve's the boss. This is his rodeo.

Steve goes back to his stand mixer, adding water about three drops at a time, and beating it, and repeating the process, until his flood icing is the right consistency.

Eddie doesn't really understand. Is there not a recipe? Why do they have to baby it along?

A few more drops later, and Steve runs his silicone spatula through it, looking at it intently in the mixing bowl. Watching. FInally, his hand goes down, "There. Perfect."

If he says so.

Steve pours some of it into a pastry bag, and the oven beeps. Steve leans back and looks and nods to Eddie, indicating that they look done. So, Eddie takes them out and puts them on a cooling rack. Then, he walks out into the garage, lifts the lid of the chest freezer, and pulls out the next cookie sheet. Apparently freezing them for a few minutes after cutting out the shapes stops them from spreading as they bake. Eddie never would have guessed.

But Eddie takes the sheet, the last one, thank god, and heads back inside to put it in the oven. He sets the timer for another ten minutes. And as soon as he's done doing that, Steve is handing him a piping bag of icing, and Eddie fills, no floods, the already outlined cookies and then slides them to Steve. In an assembly line fashion.

He feels like Lucy and Ethel in the chocolate factory, just a little, while trying to keep up with Steve and not quite hitting the mark. Steve doesn't say anything, though, just lets Eddie do it at his own pace.

At least Eddie hasn't resorted to stuffing them in his shirt quite yet.

One more flooded, Eddie pushes the cookie at Steve.

Steve is gently tapping each one on the counter after Eddie floods them, bringing any little air bubbles to the surface, and then he uses a toothpick to pop any stubborn bubbles that didn't burst on their own. 

Now these cookies will have to dry for hours, if not overnight, before they can do the next layer of stiffer, not flood, icing on top, to give them that 3D effect. 

It's a lot of work. A lot.

The quick little videos all made it seem like it all happens in less than a minute. No, this is a two-day project. Minimum. 

There are bowls all over their kitchen with wet paper towels on top, so the royal icing inside doesn't start to harden and develop a crust before they can use it. 

Every drinking glass from their cabinet has a different colored piping bag of icing resting in it, leaving a crusty little mess in the bottom of every cup. 

It's all very time consuming, and messy, and Eddie doesn't really have this kind of patience. 

Luckily, his husband does. 

Steve clips his magnetic reading glasses over his eyes from around his neck, and Eddie smiles. They're a little dorky, but Eddie wouldn't have Steve any other way. Growing older, still together, is a gift Eddie would never take for granted. Not after everything they've survived. That they can stand around in their fifties, worried about nothing but the cookies on the counter in front of them, is really something.

They've survived way worse, so they can definitely survive making these cookies.

Eddie watches as Steve is concentrating hard. His hand shakes just a little as he tries to stay steady. This is harder than it seemed, for sure, but Steve is forging ahead, pushing past any mishaps and problems they've had. They aren't gonna be perfect cookies, not for a first try, but they still look damn good, Eddie thinks. Cute. Just like Steve.

Eddie would never say it out loud, but he does think they could have just bought cookies, fancy cookies, the fanciest, but Steve wanted to make these himself for their annual Christmas Party. 

So, Eddie was roped into helping. 

He's not sure he's actually been all that helpful, but he's trying.

He carefully carries trays of finished cookies to the dining room table, so they can fully dry. 

He does up the dishes, over and over, as Steve works, to keep ahead of the mess. 

And it's long past dark outside now, and they've been at this all day long. Steve stands up, and stretches. 

"My back is fucking broken," Steve says, hanging his head backwards.

Eddie walks over and runs his hand up and down Steve's back. 

"High or low?" Eddie asks. 

"Both. All of it. But mainly across my shoulders," Steve says, trying to roll them, and loosen himself up. 

Eddie moves his hand up, bracing his other against Steve's bicep, and rubs. Hard. Back and forth. 

Steve moans at the touch, "That's good." 

"Are you about done? I'll give you a full rub down when we go to bed," Eddie offers. 

Steve laughs, "Oh, I'm sure you would." 

Eddie smiles, he didn't mean it that way. But yeah, he'd do that, too. If Steve wanted him to. But Eddie knows better. Steve's gonna be asleep the minute his head hits the pillow tonight. 

And he's not wrong. Mess cleaned up, Steve showers, takes as many pain relievers as he can, and crawls in bed. 

Eddie lays beside him. 

"Your cookies look great, sweetheart," Eddie tells him, because they do. They were made with so much love. Everything Steve does is filled with it. 

Steve says thanks around a yawn, and minutes later, is asleep. Snoring softly in the darkened room. 

Two nights later, Eddie stands back and watches as all their friends ooh and ahh over the trays of Steve's cookies. Steve brushes them all off, acting like it was no big deal, but Eddie knows better, and he smiles, so in love with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

[kodamark]

The Monument - HASO on AO3

Chapter 7: Devouring.

“I like this one.” Julian grinned, squatting down in front of the largest tank.

“That’s moon.” Jae said, following Julian’s lead and kneeling beside him as they stared at the massive snake slinking around the enclosure. “She’s like, almost ten years old or something.”

“Can I hold her?”

Jae blinked in surprise, a jolt running through his skin at the question. Jade’s parents… probably wouldn’t like that. He remembered reading something about not handling them frequently… but he hadn’t taken any of them out since week one. Besides, Julian had proven himself to be good with animals. He said he liked lizards… if they washed hands beforehand it should be fine, right?

“You’re not scared?” He asked, perhaps hoping to discourage Julian’s curiosity about the giant black snake. “She might be nonvenomous, but she can still bite.”

“I’ve been bit by worse.” Julian said casually, ignoring Jae’s bewilderment at such a statement. His eyes glittered with excitement as he watched the snake through the glass, likely looking to find her head within her masses of giant coils.

“What else has bit you?” He asked, incredulous.

Julian rolled his eyes. “Cats, dogs, horses, other snakes. A whole bunch of stuff.”

“I, uh, I guess you can touch her. If you wash your hands first.”

“Of course.”

There was a small metal sink installed in the room already, which made it easy to quickly wash their hands before Jae carefully pushed the sliding glass door open. “Well… here you go.” He muttered, waving a hand for Julian to reach in.

“Hey, girl.” He whispered excitedly, brushing his fingers over the dark scales. He flinched backwards as she moved under his hand, an anxious giggle bubbling up from his chest as he leaned in again, cupping his hand over her body. “Oh, you are beautiful.”

“You like snakes.” Jae mumbled, almost in shock over Julian’s pure joy.

“I’ve seen this snake at the Smith’s reptile house before, but I’ve never seen her this close. She’s amazing.”

“They’ve never invited you over to see the animals? You guys are neighbors.”

Julian shrugged, leaning back as he closed the glass door himself, wiping his hand on his jeans. “We don’t really talk much. I was friends with Jade, and I know them, but it’s not like me and Mr. Smith share beers on the weekends.”

’We did.’ Jae thought absently.

They got to work after that, preparing and feeding each snake or spider it’s own meal one by one. The rats and chinchillas were easy enough, fed daily with simple meals from a bag. The spiders were fed live crickets which was more difficult sure, but today was especially taxing since the snakes were being fed too.

Snakes didn’t get fed every day. The… ’meals’ they ate were massive compared to their body size. Thanks to that they only needed to be fed once every two weeks.

“The snake food is in the fridge.” Jae instructed, pointing to a small silver refrigerator under the sink counter. “It’s…they’re mice. Big mice.”

“I know what snakes eat.” Julian said simply as he opened the fridge door. “Do I need gloves to touch them?”

“Uuh- I mean they’re clean. But I wore them last time.” He watched as Julian contemplated it momentarily, before grabbing a pair of blue nitrile gloves from the counter, and removing the white styrofoam box from the cooler. “Bring it here.” He instructed, taking a pair of clean metal tongs and reaching into the box, pulling out one of the mice by it’s middle and gently setting it in the snake’s enclosure.

Julian watched with great interest as the snake, one of the king snakes, investigated its meal. Its tongue slipping quickly in and out of its mouth. “Don’t they get bored, eating something that’s already dead?”

“Do you?” Jae asked, side-eyeing him as Julian chuckled, the two looking back at the snake in interest as it struck the mouse, beginning its slow methodical devouring.

[rancidpancakebatter]

Drop In-Chapter 7 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 3.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying, Anxiety, Depression,

Some negative body image in this chapter and pretty early on. I’m really tapping into the insecure teen years with this story. 

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

A/N: Homecoming is happening! Football and Mayhem and Peter

Bit of a filler, because it’s gonna get sad and stressful.

also it's midterms and I'm exhausted so I'm sorry but this is very unedited and kinda...dry? I dunno but it's the best I have rn

You looked over your bed, where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has its limitations.

You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case. 

Once that was settled, you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game, so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change.

You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours. 

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies, and hope, and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below. 

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with it. 

You pulled a deep, centring breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter, you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in, and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments. 

“Are you excited?” 

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection. 

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his own teenage woes of old. 

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back, and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete, and we just made jokes. At one point, we narrated what we thought the players were thinking as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited, and he was excited for you. 

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding; we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father. 

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise, and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter. 

Your father answered it at your request. 

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us, but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off, but they could both come, and then May could get some pictures. If not, I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad, knowing he was the only one who might care. 

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom, and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh. 

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside. 

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that, he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind. 

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class; he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you. 

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that orchestrated your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder, yes, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer. 

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from halftime, and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures, and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you, but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often. 

Peter was hesitant, but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright, and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting, and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving of your peers while juggling heavy instruments was mesmerising. Then the homecoming court emerged. 

A stage was wheeled onto the field, and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event, about the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three pairs from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair.

You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside her passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine. 

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised slightly and wiggled her fingers with enthusiasm. Peter waved back, and you felt your throat tighten ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused, and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again, and you realize she’s talking to you. 

“I like your top,” She mouths again. 

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress, but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

You go to reprimand him, but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you like that, how could you be mad? All boyish charm and crinkled eyes. You make a face at him, and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at his arm. 

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boy toy hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurance that she looked great. Pete is getting frustrated, and you raise your camera in preparation.

He turns to make a face at you. His eyes are captured mid-roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever immortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to upload it later. 

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and you’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee. 

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief.

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is a gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweetness- and when fresh, it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scouts can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you reach the counter to order, you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane, but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barely see over them. Pete takes another photo of you, and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out. 

On your way back to the game, you're splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue, and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips, and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autumn hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light. 

 You’ve made your way back into the “field.” The concessions lines were long, and your beloved tent was well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved, you almost lost Peter in the crowd until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person. 

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety, and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you.

He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take- if any- while munching on your sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out. 

You looked up at the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling silver metal. But in case you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief. 

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then at the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed. 

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He feigned anger, but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell upon the two of you. 

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms dramatically around you both, with his toes barely touching the ground, as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn, and he was delighted to take some. 

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some, but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your scrumptious snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to Silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here.”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at each other sceptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half-eaten, rice-crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together. 

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter. 

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.” 

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity.

“Nick, dude. I told you we could, next Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defiance drives his every movement. Although, you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should come back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. Watching LOTR high did sound like a fun evening, but it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter. 

Still tucked under his arm, it’s hard to hide from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night, but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go; the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing. 

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planning these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.” 

Only Nick sounded annoyed by his answer, and for that you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder, and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

You looked over your bed where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First, was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has limitations. You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case. 

Once that was settled you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change. You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours. 

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies and hope and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below. 

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with them. 

[maybe describe the dress or sum]

You pulled a deep, centring, breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments. 

“Are you excited?” 

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection. 

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his teenage woes of old. 

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete and we just made jokes. At one point we narrated the team’s thoughts as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited and he was excited for you. 

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father. 

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter. 

Your father answered it at your request. 

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off but they could both come and then May could get some pictures. If not I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad knowing he was the only one who might care. 

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh. 

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside. 

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true, that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind. 

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class, he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you. 

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that [souttracked] your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder it’s true, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer. 

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from Halftime and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often. 

Peter was hesitant but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving was meserizing. Then the homecoming court emerged. 

A stage was wheeled onto the field and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event. About the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair. You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine. 

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised sight and she shook it back and forth with enthusiasm. Peter waved back and you felt your throat tighten, ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again and you realize she’s talking to you. 

“I like your top,” She mouths again. 

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

You go to reprimand him but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you how could you be mad? All boyish charm and scrinckled eyes. You make a face at him and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at him arm. 

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boytoy, hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurances that she looked great. You raise your camera just in time to catch Peter making a face at you. 

His eyes are captured mid roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever imortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to uplaod it later. 

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and You’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee. 

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweet and when fresh it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scout’s can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you get up to the counter to order you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than two of your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barley see over them. Pete takes another photo of you and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out. 

On your way back to the game your splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autum hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light. 

 You’ve made your way back into the “field”. The concesions lines were long and your beloved tent was in well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved you almost lost Peter in the crowd, until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person. 

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you. He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take, if any, while munching on you sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out. 

You look up to the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling metal. But incase you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically, as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief. 

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle and then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed. 

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He friegned anger but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell apon the two of you. 

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms draumaticly around you both with his toes barely touching the ground as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn and he was delighted to take some. 

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your delcectible snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here,”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at eachother skeptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half eaten, rice crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together. 

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter. 

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.” 

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity. “Nick, dude. I told you we could Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defieance drives his every movement although you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should came back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. While that did sound like a fun evening, it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter. 

Still tucked under his arm it’s hard to hid from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go, the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing. 

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planing these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.” 

Only Nich sounded annoyed by his answer and for the you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @djdre92, @drunkangels, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @Possiblydeads-blog, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @qualitybeliverflower, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[wolfiemcwolferson]

tagged by @duquesademiel to share 7 lines of my WIP’s and oh boy, am I gonna make her regret it!

[redacted] fic for [redacted] - Piarles

It’s not George’s fault work was shit today and the pretty boy doesn’t text him about a second date. (Pierre isn’t picky, he would also take a text about his damned cat.) And it’s not George’s fault that Pierre put off his paperwork for two whole weeks and - Pierre’s phone buzzes against the countertop and then it’s a wrestling match for it. George might be long limbed and ridiculous, but Pierre was the youngest of five and he’s well scrappy. He’s also far more motivated than George is because he comes away victorious, half sitting on George in the floor and half laying underneath one of the rolling chairs, but he doesn’t care because Chatte Charles 🐱 has text him and it’s a good thing he’s out of breath already.

Fantasy Fest fic for CC server - Piarles

And it’s not just the worry. Charles misses Pierre - and maybe that’s not fair either because sometimes he thinks that what he’s missing is…something inside of himself that he can’t name or pinpoint. Something in him when he wasn’t working at a phone company or at an electronics shop or a medical office. Something about how when he was away at university and Pierre was flying across the channel to see him and kiss him and hold him - something about how he misses that… The chicken is finishing off in the oven and Charles flops onto the couch, picking up his book from the coffee table because the news is not his friend right now and his phone is in the kitchen and this is what he needs to be doing anyway, but then the doorknob jiggles and Charles sits straight up, looking behind him at it. Pierre would have left his keys here probably - and yes. Charles can see them in the little bowl by the door. And if he changed at the tower, he wouldn’t have flown home so he would have walked.

BN Drabbles - this one is Lance/my OFC that we all fell in love with

Ariel’s breaths are coming in short little bursts as Lance steps closer to her, holding the wipe up to her face, asking for permission with his long pause. He’s seen her without make-up dozens of times - the two of them curling up in his living room (on separate couches) while they debate things about work or watch old episodes of Star Trek that Ariel seemingly knows every word to or just spend time talking about this yoga retreat Lance went on in Costa Rica or this beer festival in Seattle. He hadn’t understood just how significant that was until they had been out with a bunch of people at work and Ariel had mentioned that she rarely lets people see her dressed down - not unless they’re very close. But, this? Allowing Lance to be the person stripping that layer away from her face? It’s intimate in a way that he’s never been with anyone before. Ariel flutters her eyelids closed and leans into the wipe and Lance very gently runs it over the place where her eyeliner has melted down her cheek.

High tops AU - This is Lancierre and who knows when it will see the light of dayyyyyyyy 

The air conditioning is making a whirring noise and he sees another car pull up to the front of the store and he really should be going, except he walks up to the counter and he laughs to himself, pointing behind the man at the wall of cigarettes. He hasn’t bought a pack of cigarettes in nearly ten years and honestly doesn’t even know what to ask for. “Pack of Marlboro’s?” Gas Station Man grunts and gestures like ok, dumbass. “Lights? Uh, the long ones?” Gas Station Man laughs, presses a couple of buttons on the register and scans the packet of cigarettes.

Okay, so that’s all I’m legally allowed to share. I know, you’re screaming WHAT ABOUT ELOPEMENT FIC, WHAT ABOUT WEREWOLFIERRE and to you I say, “um...yeah. I know. I swear it’s happening.” (shaky thumbs up)

[charliecarter13]

we had to roll a dice and got our main character, setting, and conflict based on what we rolled, then we had to write a short story about it. we got to choose what we wanted our theme to be.

MAIN CHARACTER: A Nervous Bride-To-Be

SETTING: A Hamburger Restaurant In The 1950s

CONFLICT: Ate Some Poisonous Fruit

THEME: Honesty Is Best

  Felicity was nervous. Today was her wedding day, and if course she had to wake up late. She had time to brush her teeth, but now she was hungry, as she hadn't had time to eat breakfast.

   Luckily though, she had picked her favorite hamburger restaurant as the place she and her fiancé, Curtis, were getting married.

   "Hey darling, how are ya?" Curtis walked up to her, already dressed up in his tuxedo, A red rise sticking out of his breast pocket. His brown curls had been slicked back to try to make him look more elegant, but it wasn't exactly working.

   "Nervous..." Felicity responded. She knew it was bad luck for him to see her in her wedding dress, though she didn't exactly mind. Then, her stomach rumbled. "Maybe a bit hungry, she added."

   Curtis nodded, one of his curls coming out. "Hey, how 'bout I get you something to chow down on? Wouldn't want my dear to starve on our wedding day," he offered, already starting to walk to the front counter. It seemed he wouldn't take a no.

   Felicity smiled at the thought of not being hungry. She nodded.

   Curtis gave her a thumbs up and went over behind the counter to find the manager.

   Now Felicity is sat alone, all dressed up, waiting, pondering over why she feels so... off. Just as she nears a realization, Curtis comes back with an odd looking fruit.

   "The manager said she didn't have a lot if extra food, because if the supper we're having after the wedding," Curtis said. He handed Felicity the fruit.

   "It's alright. At least it's something, huh?" she chuckled, before taking the strange, purple fruit and biting into it.

   The juice was sweet, and tasted almost like a strawberry. She could hardly stop herself from wolfing it down. After she finished, she graciously accepted Curtis's handkerchief.

   Even though she had wiped her face, it still felt sticky. She excused herself and went to the bathroom, where she cleaned her face off.

   After she cleaned her face, she started to feel a little ill. Felicity felt something coming up her throat and just barely made it to the toilet in time.

   She took a second to compose herself, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. Sighing, she took a look at her appearance.

   Felicity's skin was pale, her hair was a mess, and her cheeks were flushed. She mumbled something about being poisoned. Considering her father had been poisoned, she knew the signs well. She shouldn't have eaten that weird fruit.

   "Curtis!" Felicity called out. After a moment, she saw him enter the bathroom.

   "My dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked, a bit scared.

   "I'm afraid the fruit you gave me was poisoned," Felicity revealed, and Curtis gasped.

   "I'll go call off the wedding right away!" he exclaimed, dashing off to find a phone.

   Felicity sighed. Even if she was a bit nervous, perhaps even a bit apprehensive, she still wanted to get married. Well, at least she thought she did.

   After some ten, twenty minutes, Curtis came back and helped her up. "Don't fret, dear. We shall go question the manager! Dottie, I believe her name was?" Felicity nodded, remembering the manager had introduced herself as Dottie.

   Felicity and Curtis walked behind the counter and barged into the manager’s office.

   Dottie, the manager, jumped when the two burst in. She looked over at them and groaned, pushing up off the couch.

   “Ugh, what do you two need? Wasn’t the wedding cancelled or something?” Dottie paused for a second, a smile coming to her face. “Or did you two figure out I’m a better match for Curtis than her?” she mumbled.

   “What? I couldn’t hear you,” Curtis said, cupping a hand around his ear and leaning in.

   “Nothing,” Dottie replied quickly, covering up what she said.

   “Ah, well, we need to ask a few questions,” Curtis explained.

   She sighed, “Fine. Ask away.” Dottie plopped down on the couch, crossing her arms.

   Felicity sat in the floor, scanning the items in the room, while Curtis sat in the recliner in the manager’s office.

   “So…” Felicity started, not sure how to begin. “Um… where’d you get that fruit?”

   Dottie coughed, averting her eyes. “Uhm, what fruit?” she chuckled awkwardly, obviously trying to cover something up.

   Curtis shot back, “Oh, you know the fruit! The one that was poisonous!” He basically accused Dottiebif poisoning Felicity.

   Dottie let out an incredulous gasp, covering her mouth. “I would never poison a customer!”

   Felicity snorted, then pointed to a bag. “Really?” She asked. The bag she pointed to was clearly labeled as ‘poisonous fruit.’ Everyone’s eyes followed to where she was pointing. Dottie let’s put a squeak, and Curtis, a gasp.

   The two looked at Dottie with accusatory looks. Dottie weighed her options, then decided to just tell the truth.

   “Okay, okay, fine! I admit, I poisoned Felicity! But it’s because I wanted the best for Curtis,” she admits.

   “Whatever do you mean?” Curtis asks, scratching his head.

   “Don’t you see? She clearly doesn’t love you!” Dottie responds. Felicity listened, too dumbfounded to speak. “Look in her eyes; she’s obviously not committed!” Dottie explains.

   Now Felicity realized what she was trying to tell herself earlier; she’s not nervous, she just doesn’t want to marry him!

   "What? This isn't true, right?" Curtis looked at Felicity with a pleading look.

   "...I'm sorry, Curtis." she admits. "Uh, I'm sure... someone else will marry you!" Felicity says, trying to make him feel better.

   "I will!" Dottie exclaimed. Curtis thought it over for a second, before...

   "Hm, okay. I think I do actually like you more," he admits. Curtis takes a ring from his pocket, and gives it to Dottie.

   Felicity smiled, and she and Dottie go to switch clothes. Curtis calls family, and says the wedding is back on.

   In the end, Felicity found out she was much happier on her own, and Dottie and Curtis got married, being in love for the rest of time.

IM SORRY THE “whatever do you mean?” ALWAYS MAKES ME LAUGH— IDK WHYYYY 😭😭😭