#ribbon style menu

[codingflicks]

Ribbon Style Navigation Menu

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Magical Misguided

{Sung Jinwoo / Reader}

[1.]

{Magical Girl AU. Aight so, ya’ll know magical girl genre? Cool now add Solo Leveling and here’s where i’m going with this.}

-

Bandages wrapped around your hands and thighs, you make way over the open area cafe. Taking a seat as awaiter comes up for an order, you skim over menu quickly before ordering a warm drink. The waiter nods before going on their way to the restaurant. You glance around, tensing at the sudden pain on your shoulder.

Forgetting the last fight with one of the generals. Frowning, you cradled your chin on your palms, trying to enjoy the nice day. 

‘They keep appearing so close to my district… WHY CAN’T THEY GO SOMEWHERE ELSE! I’m sure Miss Chae or Mister Choi would appreciate the battle more!’ You sigh when recalling the few times you were near their own patrol areas and had to aid. 

‘...They’re so strong.’ 

“Your order, (Y/N).”

Looking up, your face becomes pale at the sight. “THE SHA-!” 

“Sshh..” The Shadow Monarch, smiles. His gloved hand pointing lightly to his lips. The actions almost coy, yet otherwise mocking. You quickly look around to see if anyone had noticed, but know seemed to care!

Gazing back at him, you take note that his once long hair now styled with a thin ribbon to match his uniform. His bright blue eyes are a dimmer shade than before. He seemed less imposing without his getup.

But you knew better.

You grip the cup tightly, not noticing the small chip of glass fall onto the table.

Face flushed as you eye the ceramic teacup, trying to hide your squeals of terror as you chug the drink. “Wah-! Ho-owT” You gasp, inner-mouth burnt as male’s eyes widen. He merely pokes the left side of your neck. The cooling sensation overtaking your senses as he smirks.

Winking at you as he let’s go. Merely left gaping at him as he retreats back to the kitchen. A few soft coos and swoons following after him, yet he doesn’t notice.

 Your lips pucker as you touch your throat. Body now normal temperature as you place down your money on the table.

-

Sucking in a hiss, you watch from above as the red colored sky slowly fades into a dark blue. You lean forward, tracing the constellations in your mind as a soft chuckle reels you back into the present. After the whole fiasco at the cafe, you immediately got slammed (literally) by a General as another portal opened at the park nearby.

The sound of a door opening alerts you, turning to the newcomer. You feel your heart beat like a drum, turning away. You, he if you knew you were caught. You fiddle with the frills and bows on your top. The newcomer walks closer, steps quiet as he stands next to you. The male smiles, dark rimmed circles underneath his eyes. You raise a hand without thought, carefully reaching up to his cheek.

Ghosting over the skin, your eyes cloud in worry. “A.. Are you alright, Su- Sir?”

Noticing your fretting, the male gives a small simper. “Yeah… Just a bit of late night studying. I thought maybe sky will take my mind off it..”

Jinwoo places his palm over yours, the texture oddly familiar as you retreat your hand back.

“Y-yeah…” You think for moment, thoughtful glancing at him. Jinwoos gaze was towards the moon as his quiet breaths were the only sound you can hear during the ease of the city below. 

“I.. I think I have something that can help.” Your tone becomes more confident as you hop onto the railing. Jinwoo grabs ahold of your arm, “W-wait a moment! What are you-?”

You reach out a hand to the sky, shaking your free arm away as you stand. Striking a corny pose that reminded you of cheesy hero shows. 

‘Regardless if I may not be as strong as those around me…’

You point towards Jinwoo.

‘If I can brighten up one persons day… That’d be enough!’

“Arise too shine! You got this!” 

You hold in a laugh at the familiar words.

Jinwoo, smiles. Laughter leaving him as he feels his shoulders become lighter. You on the other hand, hold back your embarrassment. Taking it in stride as he helps you down.

“Thanks. If I see you again, I’ll mention it.” He mumbles you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

-

(Something small for ya’ll hope ya like it! Comments, questions and reblogs are always appreciated.)

[pompadourpink]

Literal French expressions

À deux - at two

À la + n. - in the style of

À la carte - at the menu

À la mode - in fashion

Amateur - lover

Après-ski - after skying

À propos - about

Armoire - wardrobe

Art nouveau - new art

Au naturel - plain

Au pair - at the peer

Auteur - author

Avant-garde - before guard

Bête noire - black beast

Blasé - jaded

Bon appétit - good appetite

Bon voyage - good journey

Boutique - shop

Buffet - credenza

Bureau - office

Canapé - couch

Carte blanche - white card

C'est la vie - that's life

Chauffeur - warmer (n.)

Chef - leader

Cliché - picture

Clique - gang

Connaisseur - "knower"

Coup d'état - blow of state

Coup de grâce - blow of mercy

Coup de foudre - blow of lightning

Couture - sewing (n.)

Cul-de-sac - ass of the bag

Début - beginning

Débutante - beginner

Déjà-vu - already seen

Dénouement - untying

Dossier - file

Double entendre - double hear

... du jour - of the day

Eau de toilette - washing water

Eau de vie - life water

Encore - again

Ennui - boredom

En route - in road

Ensemble - together

Entourage - people surrounding you

Entrepreneur - starter (n.)

Essai - attempt

Esprit de l'escalier - spirit of the stairs

Étiquette - label

Exposé - exposed

Façade - frontage

Faux pas - fake step

Femme fatale - deadly woman

Film noir - black movie

Fin de siècle - end of century

Flâneur - "stroller"

Femme - woman

Folie à deux - madness at two

Foyer - fireplace, home

Gamine - female kid (casual)

Gauche - left

Gendarme - person of weapons

Je ne sais quoi - I don't know what

Laissez-faire - let (someone) do (imperative)

Laissez-passer - let (someone) pass

L'appel du vide - the call of the void

Lingerie - underwear

Maître d' - master o'

Mardi gras - fat Tuesday

Matinée - morning

Ménage à trois - household at three

Mon/ma chéri-e - my cherished

Montage - mounting

Motif - pattern

Mural - on the wall (adj.)

Né-e - born

Négligé - neglected

Nom de plume - feather name

Parole - word

Petite - small (adj.)

Pied-à-terre - foot on land

Poilu - hairy

Pot pourri - rotten pot

Pourboire - for drink

Première - first

Prêt-à-manger - ready to eat

Protégé - protected

Renaissance - rebirth

Rendez-vous - appointment

Répertoire - directory

Résumé - summary

Risqué - risked

Robe - dress

Rouge - red

RSVP - answer please

Sans-culottes - without pantaloons

Savant - "knower" (n.)

Savoir-faire - know how to do (v.)

Savoir-vivre - know how to live

Séance - session

Soirée - evening

Souvenir - memory

Suite - sequel, development

Surveillance - careful watching

Tête-à-tête - head to head

Touché - touched

Tour - circuit

Trompe-l'oeil - cheats the eye

Venue - came

Vignette - sticker, label

Vis-à-vis - face to face

Voyeur - "seer"

Ballet vocabulary:

Allongé - laid down

Balancé - swinged

Balançoire - swing (n.)

Battu - battered

Brisé - broken

Chassé - chased

Chaînés - chained

Ciseaux - scissors

Coupé - cut

Dégagé - cleared

Développé - developed

Échappé - escaped

En cloche - in bell

En croix - in cross

Entrechat - between braid

En pointe - in tip

Failli - almost did

Fouetté - whipped

Glissade - sliding

Plié - bent

Jeté - thrown

Manège - carousel

Pas de bourrée - drunk step

Pas de chat - cat step

Pas de cheval - horse step

Pas de deux - step of two

Pas de valse - waltz step

Penché - leaned

Piqué - pricked

Port de bras - carry of arms

Relevé - lifted back up

Renversé - titled, bent backwards

Retiré - removed

Rond de jambe - leg circle

Temps de flèche - arrow time Tendu - stretched

Temps lié - linked time

Tombé - fallen

Tour en l'air - turn in the air

Kitchen vocabulary:

Amuse-bouche - mouth entertainer

Bain-Marie - Mary bath

Café au lait - milky coffee

Casserole - pot

Cordon bleu - blue ribbon

Crème brûlée - burnt cream

Crème de la crème - cream of the cream

Crème fraîche - fresh cream

Croissant - crescent

Éclair - lightning

Entrée - entrance

Filet mignon - cute net

Flambé - blazed

Foie gras - fat liver

Fondant - melting

Fondue - melted

Gourmet - foodie

Hors d'oeuvre - out of the work

Légume - vegetable

Liqueur - liquid

Mille-feuille - thousand leaf

Mousse - foam

Pâté - pasted

Roux - redhead(ed)

Sauté - jumped

Sautoir - "jumper"

Soufflé - blown

Velouté - velvety

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

[globalrebrand]

Happy Valentines Day! with Crewel

Warnings: Reader is wearing a dress and heels, no pronouns used.

A/N: Fluff, fluff, fluff!

Divus didn't do platitudes. And he certainly didn't do cliches.

As a bachelor he was bold, daring and highly nuanced in his airs. Something like love wouldn't change that. He insisted it wouldn't. You two would remain in love but retain that flavor that made you individuals. You didn't have kowtow to tradition, and certainly not a contrived artificial event like valentines day.

Divus was inclined to ignore the day entirely. But then...the ballet in the capital of the Queendom of Roses was a reviving a performance you had mentioned to be your favorite. He simply had to surprise you with tickets and, then! Your favorite ballerina was coincidentally slated to open the season on Valentine's day, so naturally no other night would do.

And well, after the show you would likely both be hungry....and if you were already dressed up for the ballet why not find and equally sumptuous place to dine after? He happened to know an incredibly excellent restaurant, intimate and small, built in the conservatory of an old city manor that had since been converted into a private members club, of which of course your handsome new beau was a member. Only twelve seats in the entire restaurant and an absolutely earth shatteringly delicious prix fixe menu. Oh! And it just had the best Lambrusco, he'd been trying to source a bottle for you for months but the supplier kept a tight lock on the distribution. That settled that then. Obviously, no other restaurant would do.

Well dinner and a show, or rather a show and dinner was a bit traditional, but Divus knew you'd be delighted, regardless. You weren't as prideful and stringent about such matters even if you too had some quite opinionated stances on style and taste as well. And he's proved himself right when he made you privy to his plans and you'd replied with a giddy squeal over the phone. "I know just what to wear!" you'd said. And he was eager to see what you'd come up with. Then you'd followed with, "I didn't think you were the type to care about Valentine's Day?" and you were right. He wasn't, but while Divus wanted to assure you this was a one time thing that happened to be the result of many happy coincidences, he couldn't bring himself to correct you. "I thought you knew better than to judge a book by it's cover." He replied. You merely chuckled and reiterated you excitement.

With the plans made, the event lingered over you both, a distant date which only grew in anticipation with your shared enthusiasm as it grew nearer. Though he pried and probed casually about your outfit choice you kept your lips sealed. To the shock of no one, Divus also wasn't a fan of surprises but he found in this one instance it didn't bother him as much as it usually might. With you, he was learning a lot of about himself and what he did and didn't do.

Now that the long awaited evening in question was upon you, Divus waited for you on the steps of the theater. He was having trouble keeping his smile at bay and while the urge to light a cigarette came upon him he let it go, knowing you'd chide him for it. Well that and he didn't want anything to take away from the aroma of the flowers he'd procured for you. Red roses would entirely a bridge too far, he'd never recover from the shame of being so horribly ordinary, so he'd chosen a suitably stylish arrangement of blush, white and burgundy peonies, orchids, ranunculus, sweet peas and amaranthus, sweetly bundled with pink ribbon.

He was looking the wrong direction when you called his name. Glancing over his shoulder he almost dropped your bouquet at the sight.

A pale pink overcoat, draped open to expose your dress: a red silk slip evocative of vintage lingerie. It hit at your mid-thigh exposing pretty legs, drawing his eye down to your shoes, elegant pair of red kitten heels.

He was speechless. All he could do was draw you close with a arm around your waist. You invite him in your space and caress his jaw lightly with a gloved hand. "Well...? How do I look?" You attempt to pull away but Divus doesn't let you.

"You took my breath away" He admits, enchanted. The platitude spills from his lips before he can stop it.

"Are these for me?" You point to the flowers.

"Who else but you?" The grin on your features has a matching expression growing across his features. He hands you the bouquet and you cup a ranunculus and inhale. The cliche of flowers on valentines day isn't lost on him, but Divus is finding it very hard to care as he takes in your precious expression, wind bitten cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The sound of a bell chimes outside the theater. 15 minutes to show time.

You make idle chatter as Divus ushers you up the grand stone steps and through centuries old carved bronze doors.

"You know, I didn't think you'd care at all for valentines day." You tell him.

"And why's that?" He questions. A little test he's sure you'll pass. You know exactly why.

"Well I thought you would probably think its sappy and horrible cliche. Which it is! I agree, but well...I suppose I'm just pleased that you do. That is to say, you do care about valentines day." You punctuate your statement with a squeeze of his hand as if to say, 'this is nice.'

"I wouldn't if it wasn't for you." He confesses a few minutes later as he pulls your coat from your shoulders and throws his fur (an all black mink) overtop and hands it to the gentleman at the coat check. He likes the image of your things together. They just make sense.

"Well thank you. It couldn't have been easy fighting with your pride for my sake." You tease lightly.

Hardly, he scoffs. Then softer, he says "it was as easy as breathing."

You feel your cheeks warm.

"We should get to our seats." Divus adds, his tone its normal controlled baritone but when you peek at him, you can see the bright blush on his cheeks as he adjusts his tie, almost as if he too were taken aback by his candor just moments before.

In that moment you decide they were wrong. All of them about Divus. He was as caring, thoughtful and kind as the best of them.

And in that moment Divus decides he was very very wrong about platitudes, cliches and admittedly, wrong about Valentine's day. They all certainly have a time and a place when he's with you.

[katzkinder]

Two days until the final chapter! It’ll be 53 [edit: 58! Sorry!!] pages long, and the color page will form a duo with the last one! The official account has posted a preview and… I think Kuro might be smiling!

In addition, more news about the animate cafe collab has been posted, such as merch and the menu

First up, the menu! Take with a grain of salt because I am. Not qualified |D Luckily it’s simple stuff and quotes, mostly

In numbered order:

01 “Let me heal you to your heart’s content” Kuro sandwich (it looks like it’s filled with cream, which is a common sandwich filling in Japan. Ever seen those super #aesthetic fruit sandwiches in anime? Yeah, same deal!)

02 “Vampire animal dango”

03 “Simply thinking, it’s orange juice!” Shirota Mahiru’s orange drink

04 “Can’t deal…” Kuro’s blue cola

05 “Because I’m an angel” Licht’s fluffy angel melon drink

06 “SO COOOOOL” Lawless’s espresso affogato style drink (this one… This one suits lawless so well it kinda hurts. Pretentious… for anyone who doesn’t know, affogato is an Italian style dessert where espresso is poured over a cup filled with a scoop of plain or vanilla ice cream. The dessert itself isn’t pretentious, but it being attached to lawless in this context makes it so www)

07 “Ah… Not interesting” Tsubaki’s japanese style matcha drink

08 “I won’t accept anything other than yes!” sweet chocolate milk by Misono (this one. I want this one because it sounds like Misono’s making it for me, and the decorations are cute)

09 “I’m just a humble shop keeper” Alicein Mikuni’s royal milk tea (the ribbon is really cute… Kinda reminds me of Jeje)

10 “One bottle lasts for three days!” Kamiya Tsurugi recommended 72-hour Kale (oh my god Tsurugi)

Tsubaki being 7 and Misono being 8 is driving me nuts. Just switch them 😭

Ahem. Naturally, there’s also merch for sale, which can be ordered off the animate website. I’m super low on funds rn so I can’t pick up the set with my baby boy sakuya in it :’)

Very rare Touma merch available too! Good for him~

Since the merch doesn’t go on sale until February, I might still have a chance…

That’s all the news for this post! See you guys later~

[ichigo-plasma]

Helping Your Roommate Mikoto Kayano Bleach His Hair Tips

Synopsis: When your Roommate Mikoto Kayano mentioned that he wanted to re-bleach the ends of his hair, you offered to help him out since you had been wanting to practice styling and working with different hair other than yours…

On The Menu: fluff, Orekoto, Mikoto being cute

A/N: I already finished this writing one of these for Fuuta and Haruka which I will post soon! Since I can't think of any interesting smut or sinfics for Mikoto that are not the overplayed yandere with two personalities or overworked salaryman, he gets fluff... for now...

Roommate!Mikoto who meticulously arranges all the hair bleaching supplies on the bathroom counter, his organized nature as a designer shining through as he prepares.

Roommate!Mikoto who trusts you, handing over a brush once you join him in the bathroom to get to work on his ends.

Roommate!Mikoto who sits patiently on a stool, his shoulders relaxed, but you notice a slight tapping of his fingers—a telltale sign of his underlying nervousness and stress caused by work.

Roommate!Mikoto who nervously chuckles when you accidentally smudge bleach on his ear, he is clearly trying not to panic...

Roommate!Mikoto who feels a bit better from the comforting warmth of your gentle touch.

Roommate!Mikoto who tries to distract himself from the tingling sensation of the bleach by engaging in lighthearted banter, talking about what you’ve been up to and you start talking about work which slowly starts to heighten his anxiety from the stress his colleagues have been putting him through from overwork. 

Roommate!Mikoto who feels his anxiety peak as the process continues, the fear of a mishap in the dying process causing his breathing to quicken slightly and the lingering reminder of work which he needs to catch up on is not helping...

Roommate!Mikoto who suddenly tenses, his demeanor shifting as his alter personality, Orekoto, surfaces, a more assertive aura enveloping him.

Roommate!Orekoto who aggressively snatches the brush from your hand, his eyes locking onto yours with a serious expression, insisting, “Give me that damn brush! I can handle it from here.”

Roommate!Orekoto who guides you to sit on the bathroom counter, his touch lingering on your arm, a mix of authority and anger in his movements.

Roommate!Orekoto who continues the bleaching process with practiced ease, his focus intense, as he occasionally glances your way to ensure you’re watching him so you know how to not mess it up next time.

Roommate!Orekoto who finishes the task, turning to you with a softergaze, the earlier intensity giving way to a gentler demeanor as he thanks you for your help… “or whatever” he says with a grunt”.

Roommate!Mikoto who re-emerges, slightly disoriented but grateful, appreciating the new look and surprised how you managed to get his hair exactly how he likes (because he ended up taking over and did it himself but you don’t tell him).

Roommate!Mikoto who tilts his head toward the mirror, admiring the even color. “Looks just like before… Maybe even better?” He grins, clearly impressed. “Damn, Y/N. You’re kinda crazy good at this. I think I should start paying you!” 

Roommate!Mikoto who suddenly pauses when he sees you rummaging through something, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Uh… Y/N? What are you planning?” His gaze flickers to the handful of pastel-colored hair clips in your hand. “Wait. No. You wouldn’t.”

Roommate!Mikoto who tries to back away, but you’re faster, pinning him in place with a determined look. “H-Hey, come on now—don’t mess it up, we just fixed it!” His protests go ignored as you slide a tiny cat shaped clip into his bangs.

Roommate!Mikoto who groans dramatically as you keep adding more, clipping his hair back with little ribbons clips. “Y/N… this is actually so mean.” He’s pouting, but he doesn’t make a real effort to stop you.

Roommate!Mikoto who slouches in his chair with a defeated sigh once you’re done, lips twitching as he catches his reflection. “Oh yeah. Real cool. I’m sure this look is gonna be a hit.”

Roommate!Mikoto who sighs in relief when you finally take the clips out, but just as he’s about to fix his hair, you suddenly tie his bangs back, fully exposing his forehead.

Roommate!Mikoto who panics. “NO. You can’t just do that!” He covers his forehead with both hands like you’ve personally violated him, cheeks flushing. “This is actually bullying.”

Roommate!Mikoto who grumbles under his breath as you finally smooth his hair back into its usual sleek bowl cut. “I swear, you’re so lucky I like you.”

Roommate!Mikoto who absentmindedly twirls a clip between his fingers as you clean up. He doesn’t say anything, but later that night, when he’s alone, he clips one in his hair just to see how it looks again, a little reminder of your fun time together.

A/N: someone please draw Mikoto with his forehead showing and hair clips in his hair and tag me.

[prncssie]

caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

���quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you. 

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.”  parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.” 

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one,  it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off  oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately. 

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

[jedineedlove]

Pigsy's Noddles

I wanted to get into Pigsy's Noddles and try to get into the history and look at the details we don't get much on Piggsy himself so it's good to look at his home, like I kind of did with Sandy's boat but more about the chef himself. We never see his apartment so the shop is the next best place.

Sign:

From the sign, you can see the sign that all Piggsy till you look in the upper left-hand corner and see an addition of MK with Season 5 Piggys finally admits to being MK's father but this photo was from an episode long before that (since a hero is born). Though this addition was probably from MK from the font style. The artistic way looks like a signature of MK like he would put on one of his drawings. It could have been a prank idea from Mei and they just wait for him to see it. Maybe he already has and is just not saying anything. Along with the signature the rest of the sign: "Secret Family Recipe, Variety of Food, and Takeaway 20% off" Instead of paying more for take away he actually lowers the price. Probably due to his love and dedication to freshness, he knows it won't be as fresh by the time it reaches their tables so take money off their orders.

Piggsy's Life: The Beginnings:

The pictures we see in Sweet & Sour show Piggsy's early life from a baby helping his mom (L Photo Top left) (R Photo bottom) and growing up cooking the family recipe noodles with her (L Photo middle) to either just himself or both him and his mom opening the shop. With his mom at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. (L Photo Bottom Left) From Pigsys' appearance, it looks like it wasn't too long after graduation that he opened the shop. (The mustache)

He also seemed to have spent some time on a farm from the photo on the left at the bottom right with him on a horse. Maybe it's a family farm it's hard to tell when it was taken he lakes a mustache like the Piggsy we know now but it could have been before he grew it and he was much younger but he looks full-grown compared to the size of the horse. which means it was after he opened the shop and the only reason that Piggsy would leave the shop would be for family so it could be a family farm. That would also explain his attitude toward "fresh ingredients" and the right shape carrots. He shows his love for his family when dedicate the shop to being about family recipes and he adds things like his grand mother's unique windows.

The Shop Layout:

Mostly booth seating with a nice cozy atmosphere. The shop is filled with things, the walls are filled with pictures, advertisements for the noodles, along with awards and newspaper clippings probably filled with the shop's accomplishments. Each clipping probably has a new accomplishment that Piggsy has worked hard for, for both him and the shop.

Menu and Food;

Show:

Pigsy's Noodles has the longest noodles in the world.

Pigsy's serves mostly noodles but also has, noodle soup, baozi, and more.

The family recipe for zha jiang noodle soup included: bamboo shoots, peppercorn, and fresh noodles, all prepared in a szechwan pepper broth.

Pigsy's Noodles serves pork! (Not sure what to think about this?)

Toys:

80009 Pigsy's Food Truck menu:  noodles, sausages, and baozi 

80026 Pigsy's Noodle Tank menu: dumplings, noodle soup, a red bean bun, and lettuce wraps.

Other:

In "Calabash", it was implied that Pigsy's Noodles opens at 9AM or sometime before, as MK mentioned that he was late for work after seeing his alarm clock read "9:01"

[codingflicks]

Ribbon Style Navigation Menu

[isephierreo]

3H's UI Design

The title screen shows Sothis throne, in the game, Byleth sees Sothis throne between their dream of the War of the Heroes and their awakening by Jeralt. Which may symbolize that the scene of a throne is the first thing you will see before and after entering the game. The throne is also the place where the most important things happen, such as meeting Sothis, merging with her, and the events of Chapter 11.

After beating the game, Sothis is shown sleeping on a throne, this is similar to Final Fantasy XV, so spoilers for FFXV.

In FFXV, after beating the game, Noctis is shown sleeping with Luna/Oracle in a logo, mirroring the end of the game. It was the end of the game where Noctis sacrifices himself to save his world, and then sleeps in peace on his throne in the afterlife. This is similar to how we know in end of the game about Sothis sacrifices herself to save Fodlan and then went to rest on her throne in the holy tomb.

Player menus is a notebook Byleth carries with charms on it. Pages feature the country logo of chosen house, with the Church of Seiros logo on a page before choosing a house.

Besides a feather pen as a cursor, many ui are in the form of a set of papers; A plain papers, a papers with a Church of Seiros pattern and Sothis tiara, and a papers with a heart pattern in a corners cover.

The design of the options box is similar to a bookmark cards and the ribbon at the top left as a bookmark ribbon that is placed between pages.

With many ui somewhat similar to the sticky notes.

Roster's design is like a campus card, where characters stand on the ground outside a classroom when see roster.

Although the background varies depending on the floor it is on.

The cards and MVP also feature a unique frame for each house or story chapter you are in.

The lower and upper design of a banner that appears upon raising a professor level or passing a certification exam may look similar to a mosaic above a door, which may symbolize the opening of a door to new knowledge and experience gained.

The same theme is present in the banner when begin exploring or lesson plan, symbolizing the beginning of your journey of exploration and teaching others. However, there is no single for Battle, and this may symbolize that there is no benefit to be gained from battles and conflict, and this fits with the FE franchise's message that war is bad. Besides, each one has a color that distinguishes it.

The design of the Crest of Seiros and its various styles is present in most of the UI with the same, if not more, than the Crest of Flames, which is a constant reminder that Officers Academy is the same as the Church of Seiros.

There are many plant patterns that decorate the UI, which is a reference to the passing of the seasons, the meaning of the game's Japanese title. And you can see a branch of leaves on the right of the notebook, which indicates that the notebook has become more like your diary of your life in a monastery.

During a tea party, a screen is decorated with plant patterns with blue roses, giving the ambiance of a garden in which you are sitting. Along with a dialog box in the color of natural hot tea.

The date circle at the top left features four shapes for each season, rose for spring, morning glory for summer, grape vines for fall, and poinsettia for winter. However, during a period of war, the circles loses its colors and becomes grey.

In the background of the chapter title of within White Clouds, the same plants are present, with the background design as a white paper with the Church of Seiros logo. However, like the date circle, during a period of war the background becomes dark with sparks of war flames, plants change to holly and thistle, the Church of Seiros logo to the country logo of the chosen house.

The CF's background differs from the SS's in a red double-headed eagle with two additional black stripes.

And this brings me to the background title before the start of each battle. Unlike the background title in each new chapter, which looks like a new page being turned to record daily events, the background title of a battle is literally the cover of notebook, and this may symbolize something similar to the Battle theme above. Like the chapter title background, it features the Church of Seiros logo during White Clouds and changes to the country logo for the chosen house, with SS and CF sharing the same background.

Speaking of battle, before any start, Fodlan map will appear on a plank of wood. This is similar to what Claude did in cutscene The Academy, where he placed a map on a table and started discussing it.

Battle Prep looks like a clock + glass mosaic, and if you notice, it is surrounded by a magic circle that appears between roles of units. It looks somewhat similar to Mila's Turnwheel, and I know Divine Pulse sounds like shattering glass, but it can be interpreted as follows; A clock is set before the start of a battle, and the magic circle is used to set units' movement points, and when the time comes to use Divine Pulse, the clock glass is shattered, which appears as a portal to an almost parallel world to return to a specific point. Furthermore, the design where the Crest of Flames is located in the middle and surrounded by the rest of the crests is very similar to the Goddess mural. There is also a crescent inside which looks like a star chart, and this corresponds to the cutscene At Death's Door, where the use of Divine Pulse shows what looks like space.

Because we don't use a battle notebook, we use a key ring memo pad instead.

Despite all the praise I gave for the game's UI design, there were some things that disappointed me. Most notable is the Adrestian empire logo for Silver Snow.

I know that the developers called Silver Snow the empire route, but they had to design the UI to fit the Crest of Flames flag, which represents the route as a whole. They don't even reuse the MVP frame from prologue, even though it's very convenient for the route. Why do they design loungewear in line with the Crest of Flames flag but not with the UI?

again they using the Adrestian empire logo for the unique classes poster. Why didn't they design a unique poster for each route? Or make it neutral?

I wish they would change the plant patterns during the tea party in Byleth's room to match the ambiance like a garden.

After all, 3H's UI design is not as perfect or innovative and iconic as Persona 5. However, in this post I wanted to share what I found fun about designing it, and you can summarize it as follows: 3H's UI design represents Sothis, the goddess of the Fodlan world, and the core foundation of the Church of Seiros, which in turn built the Officers Academy where you begin your new life as a instructor to your students through the passing seasons of the year.

Of course, I did not include all the UI designs, perhaps because I forgot them or failed to know its meaning, such as magic circle when raising the level. So, feel free to add to this post if you have any ideas.

[katy-books]

I'm not having Christmas dinner this year.

I'm not into Christmas, but Christmas dinner is another matter. I love food. It genuinely brings me joy. I'm also vegetarian, and the only time I can get a fake meat joint is Christmas, so it's a pretty big deal. Sainsbury's are bringing back their fake gammon, so it was all planned out. Alternating slices of Sainsbury's fake turkey and the fake gammon, Richmond fake back bacon wrapped around M&S Plant Kitchen Posh Dogs, roast potatoes and fried carrot ribbons with Bisto gravy and homemade apple sauce from the tree in our garden. All my favourites. It was going to be perfect 😋.

I'm a little late to discover apparently that, back in October, M&S decimated their Plant Kitchen range. For the last few months, whenever I visited, the section was tiny and then it vanished. I asked and they said everything was now mixed together. Is utter confusion supposed to be good for business??? It took both myself and the shop assistant to find the single stack of vegan sausages among the entire isle of meat ones. They weren't the Posh Dogs, but this was a month ago and I thought I could just check another M&S. I went into two other stores and no Posh Dogs. If our shih tzu hadn't been ill we'd have gone to Scarborough (a nearly two hour drive away) looking for them by now. Today I decided to just order them online. They've gone. They no longer exist. Then I looked up their amazing fake pepperoni pizza. It no longer exists. Then I found the articles about what M&S had done. They had one of the most popular vegan ranges in the country, but they discontinued most of it and mixed what was left among everything else. I no longer have any reason to walk through their doors and I'm not having Christmas dinner. It was the only part of Christmas left that I enjoyed so if it's not right it's not worth fucking about with.

It's easy for meat eaters. They can eat what they want all the time. Vegans and Veggies get one Sunday roast style meal a year, and fake meat varies A LOT, so when we find something that's just right it's important. Since finding my favourite vegan/veggie versions of my formerly favourite meat products, I haven't missed meat at all. Not once. It's been four years, and today I miss meat. I miss just being able to walk into a shop and buy delicious food without checking for a V or a Ve on the packet. I miss not having to ask at cafes and bakeries where nothing is labeled. I miss eating in a pub and being able to choose from the entire menu. I miss not having to see the uncomfortable looks I get if I have to tell someone I can't eat food they're offering me. I miss spam and battered cod. I can't ever eat meat or fish again, but I'm sick of things being complicated. I shouldn't be considering a nearly two hour drive for sausages and pepperoni pizza. Guess I'll just have to stop caring about food. Tonight was going to be my favourite veggie burger with a Dairylea cheese slice, mustard and ketchup in a tiger bread bun. Now it's a plain cheese sandwich and crisps, because good food makes me feel sick when I'm annoyed or upset 😒.

Unless any shops suddenly start doing fake bratwurst, fuck Christmas. And I'll still be pissed off about the pizza. Enjoy your pepperoni meat eaters because I sure as hell can't 🙄.

[abbyanne-sari-sari]

Sari-Sari - Ribbon Rhythmic Gymnastics (bento) 6 original bento poses, copy/mod Original mesh ribbon props with 4 color options (red, black, blue, and white) via HUD, (non & PBR-ready).

Please use the feet styles per poses listed on the notecard to achieve the same result as the vendor image.

Each pose comes with PBR and non-PBR mesh ribbon prop versions. Please click on the menu which version you prefer.

Props are made specifically for this pose set, and are copy/trans only to attach to the avatar upon clicking the poses.

We hope you enjoy this set!

For Anthem's "Fitness & Leisure" round. 💪🎀💦 EVENT TIMELINE: January 3 - 29

[sohannabarberaesque]

Now imagine Cattanooga Klatsche adding a breakfast menu

As if being a coffeehouse among coffeehouses in Gatlinburg wasn't already interesting enow, thanks to thrift-shop kitsch furnishings and a light-hearted ambience influenced by the feline musical quartet of Couutry, Kitty Jo, Groove and Scoots, you could just picture their legendary back-alley coffee place, Cattanooga Klatsche, putting in a breakfast menu to give the Waffle House boys "sheer indigestion," as Scoots was fond of explaining the idea.

But at least you have brekkie simple, homelike (even with the place looking kitschy by design), definitely on the Southern side of things--even to where the coffee is roasted right in Cattanooga Klatsche (and also available to take along, whole bean or ground). Not to mention the menu having its own rather amusing little descriptive of what can be expected:

Try not to be surprised, diner, should one of the Cattanooga Cats "themselves" (of which this coffee place is their pet and pride here in the Smokies) come up to your table and strike up conversation on whim. They just prefer it that way, especially with a breakfast certain to be remembered alongside the tacky souvenir shops along the Parkway, or even hiking Mt. LeConte, among other distractions to be evident here in Gatlinburg and the Smoky Mountains. Who said breakfast had to be cheap, fast and easy?

Witness, for one, how they'd describe their take on the corned beef hash:

So much for the corned-beef hash served in mens' club buffets: Our take on corned beef hash puts even canned hash to shame, considering where we use nothing less than chopped up corned beef fried up in potatoes O'Brien--that's hash browns with diced green and red peppers for most of you. Who said the potatoes for corned beef hash have to be particular in some way?

(Not to mention reminding all that two poached eggs, toast and jam round out the whole.)

Even the legendary biscuits-and-gravy of their midnight gabfests gets noticed:

One of the more fascinating traditions the Cattanooga Cats "themselves" are fond of enjoying on occasion is sitting down to plates of biscuits and sausage gravy late of nights and discuss the look of upcoming concert tours or albums. Which is translated all the more lovingly for you, right down to the recipes Kitty Jo (the band's female lead) is fond of using, handed down more or less. No less than self-rising flour for the biscuits and a blend of mild and hot breakfast sausage in a rather smooth cream-style gravy. We're more than happy to give seconds if you care to; that's just how things are down here.

(They do make note of preferring self-rising flour for as much the biscuits as the pancakes and waffles--and some of the other baked goods served at Cattanooga Klatsche. And the grits ... nothing less than such ground in a lovingly-restored water powered mill, and when it comes to the topping choices, they let you pick them for your bowl, adding "If you can't quite decide what you want with your bowl of grits, we'll be happy to choose the add-ins for you!" Including such staple mix-ins as bacon and sausage bits, butter, shredded cheese, red eye gravy and diverse seasonings.)

And believe you me, the pancakes and waffles on Cattanooga Klatsche's breakfast menu (aside from the obvious use of self-rising flour, after the Southern fashion) have a remarkable lightness and digestibility, as if offering maple syrup, ribbon cane syrup and cane sorghum as accompaiments wasn't adding some choice as well. And did I mention also being able to order said pancakes with Malt-O-Meal or even Hovis flour from England (a whole wheat flour said to be extra nutritive thanks to the wheat germ contained) mixed in to the stock batter, for such liking extra flavour?

And the coffee: As with the other coffees sold at Cattanooga Klatsche, Fairtrade Certified sourcing, roasted fresh on the premi (and many can swear they can smell the roasting going on) and with free refresh of the mug as required. For such who prefer tea--again, Fairtrade Certified, and blended on the premi, including Original Cattanooga House Blend, English Breakfast, Formosan Oolong, China Hyson Green, Earl Grey, Spiced and Decaffeinated. (Iced tea can also be had for such interested, brewed from a closely-held blend of green and black teas designed for optimal refreshment).

And One Thing More from the breakfast menu:

We'd rather let the hotel and motel trade recommend us based on merit, as in whether they've actually HAD breakfast with us rather than paying them off to say nice things about us. Such isn't exactly good business sense, come to think of it; rather, it only cheapens the whole system of recommendations and could raise ethical questions. So if you liked Cattanooga Klatche's breakfasts, tell your friends--especially back in your hometown and considering a drive to the Great Smokies. And if not--let us know. We'd rather be the first to know of a problem, which can happen sometimes.

Such is how breakfast can get at Cattanooga Klatsche, which can otherwise get to be quite the coffeehouse in Gatlinburg bound to make even Starbucks and Dunkin' envious.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @groovybribri @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @jellystone-enjoyer @archive-archives @screamingtoosoftly @thylordshipofbutts @princessgalaxy505 @thebigdingle @themineralyoucrave @warnerbros-blog1 @theweekenddigest @a-gang-of-silly-bananas @zodiacfan32 @warnerbrosent-blog

[socialkuwait]

Your Guide to the Best Italian Food in Kuwait: Pasta, Pizza & More

Italian food is more than just a global favorite—it’s an experience that blends rich culture, comforting flavors, and timeless traditions. In Kuwait, this love for Italian cuisine has grown into a culinary movement, with more people craving authentic Italian cuisine in Kuwait than ever before.Whether you’re on the hunt for the best pasta places in Kuwait, wood-fired pizza, or sweet Italian desserts, this guide walks you through everything you need to know about Italian food in Kuwait, especially from the kitchen of Social Restaurant—where every bite tells a story.

Why Italian Food Is a Favourite in Kuwait

Over the past decade, Kuwait’s food scene has embraced diversity like never before. Among the many international cuisines, Italian stands out for its comfort, taste, and heartwarming simplicity. Italian food doesn’t rely on complicated techniques—it’s about letting quality ingredients shine.

From creamy risottos to homemade pasta and rich sauces, Italian food in Kuwait has become a go-to for lunch dates, family dinners, and romantic evenings. Its popularity is reflected in the rise of Italian food delivery in Kuwait and high ratings in Kuwait Italian food reviews.

What Makes Italian Cuisine Authentic?

Authenticity in Italian food is about more than just using pasta and cheese. At Social Restaurant, we follow traditional Italian recipes that Kuwait food lovers appreciate. Here’s what makes our food genuinely Italian:

Use of DOP-certified cheeses like Parmigiano-Reggiano and mozzarella di bufala.

Handcrafted homemade pasta Kuwait diners love for its fresh texture.

Classic cooking methods, like slow-simmered sauces and wood-fired pizza Kuwait style baking.

Our team includes some of the top Italian chefs in Kuwait, bringing their expertise and love for Italian food to every plate.

Must-Try Pasta Dishes in Kuwait

If you’re searching for the best pasta places Kuwait has to offer, look no further than Social. Our menu includes a variety of traditional and creative pasta options made with fresh, premium ingredients.

Popular Pasta Options at Social:

Tagliatelle Bolognese – A slow-cooked meat sauce served over ribbon-like pasta.

Spaghetti Aglio e Olio – A simple, garlicky pasta dish with olive oil and chili flakes.

Penne Arrabbiata – Bold and spicy with a tangy tomato base.

Fettuccine Alfredo – Rich and creamy with parmesan and butter.

These dishes reflect the essence of authentic Italian cuisine Kuwait diners are falling in love with—simple, satisfying, and full of flavor.

Pizza: From Italy’s Streets to Kuwait’s Tables

When it comes to Italian pizza in Kuwait, nothing beats the traditional approach. Our pizzas are crafted with hand-stretched dough, aged to perfection, and baked in a real wood-fired oven.

Signature Pizza Varieties at Social:

Margherita – With fresh basil, tomato, and mozzarella.

This approach makes us a top contender in the list of best Italian restaurants in Kuwait.

Where to Eat Italian in Kuwait

So, where to eat Italian in Kuwait if you’re after quality, comfort, and consistency? Social Restaurant is a local favorite that consistently ranks high in Kuwait Italian food reviews.

Whether you're enjoying a relaxed dinner with friends or planning a romantic Italian dinner Kuwait couples dream of, Social provides an authentic experience that caters to every mood and occasion.

Italian Dining for Every Budget

Fine dining doesn’t have to be expensive. At Social, we offer fine dining Italian Kuwait experiences with an affordable twist. We believe everyone should enjoy quality food made with care, so we’ve crafted a menu that blends gourmet quality with everyday accessibility.

Whether you're ordering a full-course meal or sharing a pizza, you’ll find affordable Italian food Kuwait families and students can enjoy too.

From Takeaway to Delivery: Italian Food On the Go

Not in the mood to dine out? Our partnership with top food delivery platforms Kuwait ensures quick and contactless food delivery Kuwait wide. Order your favorite pasta, pizza, or dessert with just a few taps and enjoy a fresh Italian meal in the comfort of your home.

We also offer exciting Kuwait food delivery deals during lunch and dinner hours—perfect for anyone craving value with quality.

Exploring the Full Italian Menu at Social

Our Italian restaurant menu Kuwait offers a curated selection of traditional dishes and modern favorites:

Starters: Bruschetta, arancini, and caprese salad.

Pasta: From classics like lasagna to new favorites like seafood linguine.

Pizza: Thin-crust, wood-fired, and loaded with flavor.

Mains: Chicken parmigiana, veal marsala, and more.

Desserts: Tiramisu, panna cotta, and Italian gelato.

The variety ensures that everyone—from kids to seasoned foodies—can find something they love.

Save Room for Dessert

Italian desserts are just as iconic as the main dishes. At Social, we treat desserts as a celebration of Italian culture. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, you’ll love:

Tiramisu – Layers of espresso-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone.

Panna Cotta – A silky custard topped with fruit or caramel.

These have quickly become must-tries for lovers of Italian desserts in Kuwait.

More Than a Meal: The Italian Bistro Experience

Social isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a Kuwait Italian bistro that blends cozy interiors, friendly service, and classic dishes. We’ve designed our space to make every visit feel like a mini-vacation to Italy, from the warm lighting to the aroma of fresh basil and garlic in the air.

Perfect for celebrations, first dates, or simply treating yourself after a long day.

For Every Time of Day

Italian food suits every time of day. At Social, we’ve crafted our menu to reflect that:

Lunch delivery Kuwait options include pastas, salads, and paninis.

Dinner delivery Kuwait features family-sized pizza combos and elegant mains.

Weekend brunch includes lighter Italian dishes and fresh pastries.

Whether you're grabbing a bite at noon or indulging late at night, we’ve got something satisfying ready to serve.

Built on Tradition, Powered by Passion

What sets Social apart is our passion for Italian culinary heritage. We don’t cut corners. Every dish is rooted in traditional Italian recipes Kuwait food lovers value, yet adapted slightly to suit the modern palate.

We support sustainable sourcing, craft many of our ingredients in-house, and keep updating our menu based on guest feedback and seasonal ingredients.

Final Thoughts: Why Social is the Home of Italian Food in Kuwait

Italian food in Kuwait has found a strong and flavorful home at Social Restaurant. Whether you dine in, take out, or get food delivered, you’ll enjoy the same commitment to authenticity, flavor, and care.

With a wide variety of dishes, top-tier service, and a focus on tradition, Social continues to be a standout among the best Italian restaurants in Kuwait.

Ready to Experience Italy in Every Bite?

📍 Visit Social Restaurant today or 📲 Order online for quick food delivery Kuwait wide.

Follow the aroma of real Italian food—only at Social, where flavour meets tradition.