#: red-juice tooth :

[mycoblogg]

HORROR WEEK- FOTD #150 - red-juice tooth! (hydnellum peckii)

the red-juice tooth (also strawberries & cream, bleeding hydnellum, bleeding tooth fungus, & devil's tooth) is a hydnoid fungus in the family bankeraceae :-) it is mycorrhizal & forms associations with conifers across north america.

the big question : will it kill me?? not at all !! it's edible. however, the blood-red guttation is extremely bitter. ^^"

h. peckii description :

"the fruit bodies typically have a funnel-shaped cap with a white edge, although the shape can be highly variable. young, moist fruit bodies can "bleed" bright red guttation droplets."

[images : source] [fungus description : source]

[orofeaiel]

Red Juice Tooth (Hydnellum peckii)

[pickleweed2]

A group of 5 or so Hydnellum peckii, Red Juice Tooth, growing out of the moss under Salal brush in Sitka Spruce woods.

15, 30, and 35 image stacks

Big Lagoon, California

[sugarbcnes]

✮ ┆dessert. ethan landry

— addicted to your taste, ethan desperately needs to fix his sweet tooth. drabble

warnings female reader, cunnilingus, semi-public, oral (female recieving), use of ‘cunt’ 426 words

navigation

YOU HAD DRAWN BLOOD. Your bottom lip swelled and pulsed under the stress of the white bone, surfacing blotches of red underneath your glassy Fenty lipgloss.

Your parents were beyond thrilled when you announced the news that you were bringing home a boy for the holidays, let alone the personification of a puppy dog.

Regardless of his excitement to meet your family, staying in your parent’s house came with its downsides. Going home for the holidays meant spending time with your family. Spending time with your family meant no privacy and no privacy meant less time Ethan could spend with his face stuffed in your cunt just as he was at that very moment.

He could not be deeper if he tried, nose nudging your swollen clit as his tongue lapped at your soaked walls.

Dress bunched above your belly button and your leg hiked over his shoulder, Ethan knelt on the bathroom floor as you gripped the marble basin of your Aunt’s guest bathroom.

You laced your fingers through his messy curls, not a single care in the world if the ring on your finger that he bought you for your birthday got tangled as your nails scratched at his scalp and gripped his hair in a bunch.

The accidental tug of his locks elicited the rumble of a moan from his throat, the sound’s vibrations tickling your centre.

“Fuck,” your hips jerk forward to grind against his mouth, his smooth tongue flicking your clit and dragging it in between his lips.

Staring at the clock on the wall, you winced. 9:22pm. You knew for a fact desert was brought out seven minutes ago.

“Ethan,” you whisper, voice husky, “we need to go- fuck!”.

Ethan never meets your gaze, too focused on the sweet taste of your juices on his tastebuds. His favourite dessert.

You became dizzy at the squelch of his long fingers sliding into your hole, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. With one final stroke of his tongue flattened on your cunt, you gush on his mouth. He looks up at you; full lips coated with a thick layer of the silky, sweet substance.

As he stands, your white dress drops to its normal position above your knees.

A florid blush paints his soft cheeks, his nose nudging yours as he kisses your lips gently.

“Do you not understand what the word ‘behave’ means?”

Your scolding has his face hiding in your neck, kissing over the gold ‘E’ pendant that hangs in the cove of your décolletage.

“ i’m sorry,” he mumbles, hands on your waist, “was sick of waiting for dessert.”

© lvrlina 2023 — do not copy, repost or translate my work onto any other platforms without my permission.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

⟢ james potter x reader ⟢ your boyfriend doesn't mind getting his hands a little messy for you ⊹ 794 ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication, james is taller than reader, knife (used to cut fruit)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Cherries, Jamie!” you cheer, your head popping up from its place in the refrigerator.

James stands behind you, holding the fridge door open as he endearingly watches you stick your head deeper than necessary into the fridge, fitting your face between the shelves, in search of a midnight snack. 

His amused expression falters as you pull out the basket of cherries you bought at the market yesterday. 

James closes his hand over the side of the basket, intent on taking it from you, “Ah, how about we do the raspberries instead, yeah?” 

Your grip tightens on your snack, giving it a futile tug that causes you to stumble back.

After a night out with your friends, you’ve returned to your shared flat, fairly drunk and quite famished, your tastebuds craving something sweet. 

James frowns as images of this drunken version of you clumsily cracking your tooth or choking on a cherry pit swirl around in his mind.

A pout overtakes your lips as you complain, “Don’t want ‘berries, want cherries.” Your downturned lips don’t last long when you suddenly snort at your accidental rhyme, “Berry, cherry,” you repeat, giggling. 

James tries to pry the fruit from you while your distracted, but your grip remains strong as the papery basket bends from your collective tugs in opposite directions.

“Baby, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he tries to reason.

“On fruit?” you ask incredulously. 

Maybe it was a little silly, but James’ protective nature knows no bounds. 

“I just want cherrieeees,” you whine and James has never been good at saying no to you.

“Okay," he gives in, "but give them here first.”

“You’re gonna put ‘em where I can’t reach ‘em!" you accuse.

“I'm just gonna wash them for you," James says in a soft, reassuring voice, "Can you let me do that please?”

You squint at him skeptically, but you release your hold. 

James holds the basket in one hand, the other finding its way around you to press against your lower back, guiding you away from the fridge to let it close behind you. 

He sets the cherries on the edge of the sink and you in front of them as he moves to rummage through the cupboards for a colander to rinse the cherries in.

James has to suddenly return to your side, steadying you by your waist when you fail to hoist yourself up onto the counter.

A stressed sigh leaves his lips as he dips his head down so that his eyes are level with yours. "You wanna sit?" he asks, giving your waist a squeeze.

"Mhm."

James lets his forehead tap against yours briefly, a sign of his affection, "Okay, hop up for me."

You jump again and with James' help you land on top of the counter this time. He kisses your temple before resuming his mission to recover the colander.

He's quick to dump the berries from the green fiber basket into the strainer and rinse them in the sink. Once the water is off, you're already reaching for a cherry and he lifts the dripping bowl out of your reach.

You look at him with an expression of utmost betrayal.

"I'm gonna give them to you, baby, just give me a minute. Trust me?"

"Trust you," you grumble a confirmation.

James places the wet colander atop a dishcloth. He keeps a close eye that you don't sneak any bites as he takes out a plastic cutting board and a paring knife.

Soon, James falls into steady a rhythm of plucking stems, depitting little stone fruits, and popping the halves into your mouth as he goes.

It's tedious— slicing the cherries around their pits, twisting the halves apart, and driving out the pits with his thumb. Not to mention, it's messy, and even while applying his most delicate touch, fruit juices are spraying everywhere. On top of that, the stones keep trying to roll onto the floor.

The ordeal has the whites of his nails pink and his fingertips stained red, but the way you giggle happily each time he feeds you another piece makes it all worth it.

Once your sweet tooth is been satisfied, he pecks your crimson stained lips, and rinses excess fruit juice from his hands.

He returns to you, placing his now dry hands atop your knees and he traces little shapes on your skin with the scarlet pads of his thumbs.

You beam up at him, and his chest swells with a profound, all-encompassing love.

"Happy now?" he asks, his eyes lovingly studying the crinkle of your eyes and curl of your lips.

In response, and as a thank you, you scoot closer and press another sweet kiss to his mouth.

He smiles against you and he tastes cherries.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[buecketsnbueckets]

face to face | P.B

summary: you and paige have been nonstop texting since that day she messaged you. a friendship is forming so what better thing for friendship than to invite her to stay with you for a weekend in LA?

pairing: actress!reader x paige bueckers

contains: tooth rotting fluff, a little bit of tension, THEYRE MEETING!!!

a/n: here’s part 2 of actress reader and paige. things are getting serious!! my inbox is open for more oneshot ideas <3 we’re gonna ignore how long this took me to write!

Interviews had died down now that you weren’t in any projects coming up. Yeah, you had a few more red carpets but there was nothing else for you to promote so you were pretty bored.

Your and Paige’s relationship was feverishly growing within the past two weeks. You were texting one another almost everyday and now that college was out for the summer, you brought up an idea to Rachel while you were relaxing as a little girls night with face masks and drinks.

“Do you think I should invite Paige to stay here for a few days?” You brought up as you took a sip of your homemade mixture of vodka and apple juice.

Rachel sat upright from your oh-so-soft comforter, her sheet mask nearly falling off of her face from the sudden rush.

“Like stay here at your apartment?” She questions, smoothing down the sheet back onto her face as she speaks.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want her to stay at some dingy hotel.”

Rachel hums in thought as she tries to think of a few reasons why it could be a bad idea but her mind blanked.

“You know what? Yeah. I say go for it. I want to meet this girl.” Rachel encourages as she motions to your phone that was charging on the bedside table.

As you scramble to text her, you pause your movements before turning to Rachel with a worried expression.

“Wait, what if she says no? What if she thinks I’m a weirdo because I’m inviting her to stay at my place after knowing her for almost 3 weeks?”

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh at your doubting thoughts.

“Don’t piss me off. Text that girl right now so you can plan it out.”

Before you knew it, you were driving home from the airport with Paige in your passenger's seat. You made small talk throughout the drive, warming up to each other’s personalities and presence.

“Here is my place. You can just set your stuff in my room.” You explain to Paige as you open the front door, allowing her to step in.

Her ponytail swung to the side as she looked around the space, whistling lowly at how large it was. You flush at her reaction and shake your head as you shut the door, locking it behind you.

“You got a nice place. Hollywood treats you nice,” the blonde teases your slight luxury apartment.

You motion to your bedroom with an eye roll. “Go and put your stuff down so we can get started on those pizza’s, Bueckets.”

She chuckled at your words as her tongue prods at her inner cheek and walks over to your bedroom, setting them by the closet door. You and Paige decided to make these flower margherita pizza for her first night. It was just three days you were getting her here in LA and you were saving sightseeing for tomorrow. Plus, you wanted to get to know her in person, not over the internet.

You don’t really know what you’re expecting from this weekend but you were more than excited. Once you have given Paige a mini tour of your apartment, you turn to her with a beaming grin, practically bouncing on the balls on your feet. It was evening now, a soft orange hue flowing through your tall windows as you played Spotify on the TV in your living room. Reluctantly, you allowed Paige to be in charge of that for the night.

She was the guest after all.

“So, I heard you like Shirley Temples so,” you motion for her to follow you to your kitchen, grabbing onto the cool handle of the refrigerator and tugging it open to peek into it. “I made you a pitcher of it.”

Paige’s jaw drops at the sight of the large glass of her favorite drink, running a hand over her mouth as she glances at you in shock.

“Nah, no way you did this,” she shakes her head in amusement as she reaches for it.

“I did, I did,” you nod with a proud grin, shrugging your shoulders. “I thought it would go well with our pizza’s.”

Paige thanks you with an absolutely giddy smile as she just drinks it straight out of the pitcher. You honestly didn't mind as you weren’t the biggest Shirley Temple fan. You giggle as you whip out your phone from your back pocket to take photos of her.

You had to pry it from her fingers as your hunger was taking over. To your surprise, the dynamic between the two of you was if you were childhood friends reconnecting after not seeing each other for ages. After you set down the pitcher, you pull out the dough from the freezer and the rest of the necessary ingredients needed; the sauce, cheese and basil leaves.

As you place the round pieces of mozzarella in the flower shape, you glance at Paige’s focused expression as she does the same. You purse your lips to hide how overwhelmingly ecstatic you were to have her here.

“So, how are you dealing with this,” you motion with a piece in your hand as you spoke, trying to find the right words, “attention you’re getting?”

Paige hums in thought as she looks to you as if it would help her explain it better.

“I mean, I don’t know. At first, it was so weird like people just know who I am and what I do. Most people are nice though. Respectful and considerate. I appreciate that,” she tells you slowly, her smile growing. “I mean, I definitely don’t think I would’ve met you without it so that’s a big plus.”

“Corny,” you tease as you shake your head. “But no, I get it. It can be overwhelming sometimes. I know how it feels. If you ever, you know, need someone to talk to about it, you have my number for a reason.”

Paige’s eyes round at your offer, nodding to herself as she takes your words in with consideration.

“Thank you,” she licks her lips before dusting off her hands as she finishes her side of the pizza. “I think we’re done, yeah?”

You nod in agreement, feeling a bit accomplished with the pizza. It looked almost exactly like the photo reference you had gotten from Pinterest.

“Wait, hold on,” you take a quick photo of the pizza and then motion for Paige to stand next to it.

She does so with glee, grinning and staring at you from behind your phone. You make it her profile picture with a shit-eating grin on your face and jerk your head to the preheated oven.

“Alright now we’re good. It says to leave it in for 10-15 so we’ll check on it then.” You instruct the blonde to place it in the middle.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige mutters to herself as she does as she’s told.

You stare at her bent down figure and shake your head as if it would be rid of the heat flooding your cheeks. She’s just being respectful and you were flustered like a schoolgirl with a crush.

You thought with your years of hiding these feelings you would succeed at some point.

Thankfully, Paige was too focused on not burning her arms to see your expression.

“So what do you have planned for me this weekend?” Paige questioned as she folded her arms and stood back up to face you.

“Well, I think we could visit all of the Walk of Fame, go to In and Out, maybe go to Santa Monica beach at sunset, very L.A things, you know?” You explain to the blonde with a giddy grin.

Paige nods along with your brief explanation of what you had mentally prepped with your new… friend? Yeah, she was a friend.

What else would she be?

“Damn, I was hoping to get a BBL or something,” she sighs in faux disappointment.

“Oh, next time, for sure,” you pat your shoulder to console her, chuckling at her words.

Paige whistles as she slightly leans closer to you. “Are you sugar-mommying me with your Hollywood money?”

You roll your eyes at her words but can’t help the smile itching at your lips as you point to her pitcher of Shirley temple and then to her pink lips.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Paige raises her hands up before taking the pitcher into her larger palms once again.

The two of you continue to talk all night as you feast on the rather delicious pizza. You wouldn’t dare utter the words yet but your crush was swelling on the blonde. Sure, yes, you had the two of you get along, which you did, but you were hoping that she would expose that she had a secret girlfriend or something.

Nope: free as a bird.

You pushed the creeping feelings back into the depths of your brain throughout the weekend as you didn’t want to center your feelings but her time here in L.A. With her, you weren’t really focused on whether or not you had to be insanely picture perfect every time you took a step outside or avoiding certain places due to paparazzi; you could enjoy every moment with her without second-guessing.

It was… peaceful. A breath of fresh air.

She even met Rachel when the girl had ‘coincidentally’ showed up at a coffee shop you two were at on Sunday. You knew she had your location so you weirdly weren’t shocked at all by this. The two thankfully got along. Rachel didn’t miss an opportunity to raise her brows at you, nodding in approval of the basketball player when she excused herself to the bathroom at some point.

“She’s hotter in person, dude. Good for you,” she whispers with a bubbly grin.

“I hate you,” you sigh but internally agree.

She was just irritatingly perfect in every way.

Fuck.

yourusername my weekend! 😝

tagged: @paigebueckers

view all comments

paigebueckers | I had fun I guess 🤣

↳ yourusername | never come back 💜

comment liked by paigebueckers

rachelzegler | i think i’m still blinded by the red lights 😵‍💫

↳ yourusername | shine some blue light to even it out 😇

randomuser | Not Paige hounding a whole pitcher of Shirley Temple😭😭

comment liked by author

↳ yourusername | JUST GREEDY🙄

↳ paigebueckers | You made it for me 💔

randomuser | this feels like a hard launch goodbye.

randomuser | NOBDOY MOVE?!&!-!&!1&2!

kamoreaarnold | Okay LA girl!!!😝😝

↳ yourusername | i fear she’s changed

↳ paigebuckers | Nah I’m still me 😎

↳ yourusername | alr cornball

comment liked by paigebueckers

randomuser | why is no one talking about how they literally had never interacted until almost a month ago and now they’re HANGING OUT??

randomuser | WE DID THIS GUYS!!!!

comment liked by rachelzegler

randomuser | RACHEL…..

williamskayla_ | Now i’m jealous! That pizza looks good 😔

↳ yourusername | i told paige to bring everyone next time 😩

TAG-LIST: @jnkbueckers @ch-3-rry @sayurireidotcom @numberonepartyanth3m @ddeonmixx @simp4women08

[xoxovanillq]

Tangerine

Pairing- Dick Grayson x gn!reader

Warnings- Wisdom tooth removal, anesthesia, pain, kissing, a little bit of innuendo

Dick was a good friend, of course he’d pick you up from your wisdom tooth surgery.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

Now he was facing the reality of it, you were loopy, uncomfortable, and bloody, a combination that wasn’t necessarily ideal. The receptionist handed him a bag of things as he walked out, your body slumped against his side. 

“You’re such a good boyfriend, picking her up and taking care of her.” The receptionist cooed.

“We aren’t dating, but thanks.” Dick murmured, trying to usher you out of the clinic faster.

The two of you finally get outside. Dick’s got an arm around your waist, propping you up against him.

“I- I feel weird.” You murmur, slurring your words a bit. Dick grimaced as he felt a bit of drool drip onto his shirt.

“Yeah, you’re gonna feel like that when you’re hopped up on pain meds, tangerine.” He replies, deciding to give up on making you walk and just picks you up. He carries you all the way to his car, your arm wrapped around his neck for support as he holds you bridal-style.

He sets you down gently in the passenger seat, and you giggle a bit, looking up at his face.

“What’s up?” Dick asks, laughing softly as you place a hand on his cheek.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?” You say, quite obviously still a bit dazed. Dick’s face goes red, and he tries to laugh it off.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He says, shutting the door gently before moving over to the drivers side. Now is not the time to confess your years long crush, Dick thought as he settled down, looking over at your dazed smile.

“I meant it, you’ve always been soooo pretty, always wanted to kiss you.” You drawl, words slurred and messy. Dick went red, trying to laugh it off again and putting the car into drive.

“We can talk when you’re in your right mind again.” He responds, voice shaking a bit.

“But I wanna talk now.” You whine, and Dick sighs, he really didn’t want to deal with this.

“I know, but you aren’t yourself right now, Tangerine.” He soothes, rubbing your shoulder with his hand. He laughs softly as you whine something indistinguishable.

The rest of the drive goes by smoothly, with you falling asleep in the passenger seat, head lolled to the side and resting on his shoulder. Once the two of you arrived at your apartment, Dick decided he’d rather carry you inside than disrupt your peaceful sleep, so he made his way to your side of the car and got ready to carry you.

He opened the car door as softly as he could, then gently unbuckled your seatbelt. He gently scooped you into his arms in a bridal carry, looking down at your peaceful, albeit swollen, face. 

God, I hope she wasn’t just dumb and loopy. Dick thinks as he carries you into your apartment, placing you gently in your bed. He’d liked you for the longest time, and he didn’t know if he could handle finding out your words were a lie.

“Dick?” You murmured drowsily, snapping him out of his haze.

“Whats up, tangerine?” He asks, suddenly standing up from the armchair he had been sitting in to stand over you. 

“Nothing, just making sure you were still here.” With that, you drifted back off into a hazy sleep, dreaming of him.

While you slept off the drugs, Dick cleaned up the kitchen and made a little cozy spot for you on the couch.

He stood at the stove, stirring a pot of cooking noodles for some mac and cheese. Dick was antsy for you to wake up, nervous to question you about the intents of your comment.

His head snapped down at the sound of sizzling, the pot had boiled over. He sighed, checking his watch to see that it was time to drain the pasta.

You wake up, groggily walking into the living room to see a pillow and blanket in the corner of your couch, a small table, meant to hold food while watching tv, in front of it. A bowl of mac and cheese, along with a cup of ice water, and a bottle of pineapple juice rested atop it.

“I heard somewhere it was supposed to help with the swelling.” Dick calls out, his deep voice making you jump a bit.

“Thanks, Dick, this is really sweet.” You say with a sore smile, your voice a bit hoarse.

“It’s nothing, really.” He says with a soft smile, placing a hand on your back and gently guiding you to sit.

There was a period of awkward silence as you began to eat and Dick tried to find a spot to sit. Eventually, he settled on sitting next to you, but not too close.

You watched him intently as he took a deep breath, turning towards you, eyes gazing into yours.

“So um, did you mean what you said?” Dick finally blurts out, looking over to see your face.

“Dick- I- what did I say?” You reply, voice thick with worry.

“You said something about kissing me and it’s fine if you didn’t mean it and it’s- it’s actually great if you did!” He spews, explaining quickly.

You begin to mumble a frantic apology, then realize what he said. “Did- do you really mean that?”

Dick sighs and shakes his head, looking down into his lap. “Listen- I’m just gonna be honest, I’ve liked you for a long time. Like, since we were 10.” He says quietly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You exclaim, a big smile on your face. “Dick, I’ve liked you for years, I’ve just been too scared to say anything.” All Dick can do is smile and laugh.

“What are you waiting for then?” He asks, laughing as you rocket forward into his arms, pressing your lips to his.

He couldn’t believe that he was sitting there, with you in his lap, a hand tangled in your hair, and your lips pressed to his.

“Ow.” He hears you gently whimper. Quickly pulling away, he begins to inspect your face for injuries. “M’just sore still, that’s all.” You reassure.

“Better heal up quick, that mouth of yours has got some things to prove.”

[fraugwinska]

You know what I'd like to read? Goofy ass Alastor. Him and reader just bonding through being partners in crime. The crime in question? Silly pranks on other hotel guests. They can be painfully cringe and only funny to them. Because you know. Boredom. Make them friends, make them sweethearts, make it somehow end in smut ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )- idc. You do you, Gwinska!

I just want some strawberry pimp shenanigans!

My inspiration for that exquisite prompt?

This: https://www.instagram.com/p/C5SIGvCg91j/?igsh=cmF5cjc5Znlpdnhu

Hello there, patient frauchen! Boy, you had me sweating here! But alas, I did it and I think it's safe to say - I got all your wishes covered ;> This one's for my adult sinners only! Sorry Minors, please DNI!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Joke's On You

Everyone at the Hazbin Hotel knew that Alastor loved silly, dumb pranks.

The radio demon would set Charlie in a panic, rushing in her office to tell her that there was water running down the freshly renovated staircase - only for her and a similar panicking Vaggie to find bottles of water in shoes placed on the steps, groaning at the delighted chuckle from the shadows at the top of them. Morning coffees and stomachs were ruined by Alastor one day, switching the contents of the salt and the sugar jars and in having half of the residents hurl into the sink at once. You were one of those unfortunate souls, the only one laughing maniacally at the whole ordeal as you spat out salty saliva.

Because what they didn't know was that you were just as bad. Maybe even worse.

A few weeks had gone by since you checked in, and you watched Alastor with impish glee as he planned out and executed his tricks on the crew, including you. In contrast to the exhausted, annoyed reactions from the other residents, you always laughed, chuckled or giggled at the outcome - leaving him always in between confused and delighted.

Until one day. Emboldened and settled in enough, you decided the day has come for you to join in on the fun. Prepared with a dry noodle in your mouth, you asked Vaggie after breakfast to help you crack your back, watching Alastor from the corner of your eye, who sat at the table still reading his newspaper. As he looked up after turning a page and Vaggie obliged, hooking her arms into yours and bending forward, you bit down. The sound of the cracking noodle and your fake scream made Vaggie and the rest of the residents jump in shock and Alastor nearly double over, howling with laughter. You couldn't hold it together, showing her the cracked noodle and cackled madly while Vaggie, comforted by a nervous but relieved looking Charlie, just shook her head exasperated and groaned. "Great, another one who thinks this shit is funny." You apologized, still chuckling, as your eyes found Alastor's, and his wide smile and mischievous glint in his eyes told you that this was the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

It wasn't long until the both of you became fast friends, partners in crime.

After the whole noodle debacle, the two of you spent more and more time together, coming up with stupid ideas on what to do to the poor crew. Your first idea was a rather simple one: Replace the Alcohol in Husks bar with various other liquids. You and Alastor had a grand time switching vodka with water, red wine with beet juice and whiskey with apple cider vinegar. Alastor had his fun observing the results, especially Husks reaction. It wasn't pretty, to say the least. The cat had a breakdown when he smelled the vinegar in his usual drink, shouting curses at the deer who joined in your hysterical giggling. You patted the coughing cat on his back and handed him a new bottle of cheap booze as compensation.

Niffty was next, her sweet tooth was just too exploitable. While you prepared the very special 'surprise' cake, a balloon, hidden under a mass of frosting, high and pretty and covered in sprinkles, Alastor coaxed her into cutting a piece. "Come on now, Niffty, a small bite wouldn't hurt! You have to try the cake, my dear. We worked so hard on it, I assure you that you will like it!". She was hesitant at first, but as he promised her another one later, she couldn't resist the temptation and cut herself a piece, not noticing the grin on Al's face. The high shriek at the pop of the balloon was almost as hilarious as her face, covered in cream and colorful specks of reds, yellows and blues. The both of you couldn't stop laughing for minutes, and after Niffty calmed down enough, she took the joke in good fun and happily munched on the cupcake you had given her while Alastor and you cleaned her up, exchanging bemused looks.

After finding an exact copy of the remote control of the hotels' TV set on one of your outings, Alastor had the most wonderful idea to mess with the newest guest, Sir Pentious, who had claimed the TV in the lobby every evening to watch his favorite soap opera together with his egg companions. You both hid, the spare remote ready, waiting patiently until the snake had his show on and made himself comfortable on the sofa. You began to change the channels, and every time the Egg Bois hopped over to the TV to manually return to their show, you let them, waiting until everyone was once again settled before you switched the channel again. The villainous overlord hissed in rising anger, the sound of him slamming the original remote on the floor and yelling about the 'incompetence of these damn VoxTech devices' almost as satisfying as his face when Alastor took the remote from your hand, winking, and changed it right back, snickering as he did.

You continued to play your little tricks on everyone, although you made sure you always made it up to the recipients of your shenanigans. You felt a weird sense of pride and satisfaction seeing that Alastor didn't seem to mind having a partner in crime for a change. You didn't know much about him before, but the others told you that Alastor wasn't exactly known for making friends and having close relationships, and it warmed your heart knowing that he opened up a little bit and enjoyed the time he spent with you.

You also enjoyed the time you spent with him, not only because of the mischief you two brought upon the crew, but also just because you enjoyed his presence and company. He was witty, clever and had a wonderful, contagious laugh. And his smile. When he smiled at you, you would feel warm and giddy and you felt like you were the luckiest person in hell to be able to witness the joyful look on his face, to see his ears wiggle the peculiar way they did when your pranks played out exactly as he planned them to.

***

You turned the page of your book, still giggling. Alastor smiled, his legs suavely crossed as he leaned back in the comfy chair across from you, his own book forgotten and abandoned on his lap.

"I still can't believe you made me prank the literal king of hell.", you said, a hand covering your mouth in a useless attempt to stifle your laugh.

Alastor grinned. "And I can't believe you managed to hold yourself together, darling - yet, you did, splendidly might I add. His highness didn't suspect a thing."

Indeed, you best prank yet was a great success. After endless convincing you gave in to Alastor's idea of switching Lucifer's favorite treat of the day, his beloved caramel apples, out with onions. He had stood watch as you worked in the kitchen all through the night, meticulously covering every square inch of the white, smelly bulbs with a thick layer of homemade, glossy caramel so to not leave even an inkling of the mischief underneath. You didn't want to risk being found out, after all. The result was a tray full of gorgeous, golden, sticky caramelized onions that Lucifer didn't hesitate a single second to take a big bite out of when you - admittedly very nervously – offered them to him, his content hum at the taste quickly changing to one of surprise and revulsion as he gagged and coughed out pieces of the deceptive treat.

"He was really sweet about the whole ordeal, too. I wonder if my 'Apology Apple Pie' was the reason he was so quick to forgive us." You closed the book and put it on the table next to you, shifting and pulling the fuzzy blanket higher over your legs. The library was your and Alastors favorite hangout, usually being empty and abandoned, and it was also the place where the two of you would spend hours and hours together, reading, talking, scheming.

"He forgave you, darling. He still hates me down to his bones.", Alastor corrected you with a sly smirk. "But no doubt about the exquisite quality of that pie, dearest! I had a slice myself, it was delicious! A fine work, as expected from my best gal."

You chuckled, cheeks heating up at the praise. "So, what now? I think we got them all good by now, haven't we?"

Alastor's eyes were still on you as he pondered for a moment. "There's still our amorous arachnid to be played a fool, he has been quite elusive to our trickery."

"Angel is a hard nut to crack", you smiled to yourself, "There's not much that can rattle him. We would have to think about something major, something that really shocks him and truly makes him question everything he thinks is true and real in his life."

"Now there's a challenge." Alastor put his chin on his knuckles as he leaned onto the armrest of his seat. He closed his eyes, the little tell tale static from his chest permeating the air around him, indicating he was thinking intently. You couldn't help but smile as you studied his sharp features. A strange warm flutter tickled your stomach. "That lanky sinner has quite the filthy mind. It would have to be quite the filthy endeavor..."

"Ha, wouldn't that be something he would not see coming from Mr. Celibate - his words not mine!", you snorted, remembering all the times ANgel made fun of Alastor's obvious disinterest in anything sexual or 'filthy'.

"Indeed." He opened one of his eyes, looking over to you while he hummed quietly. "I'm thinking, dearest. What would shock and confuse our dear fellow the most, I ask, than the thought of you and I ... dallying? No doubt his world would crumble."

You furrowed your brow. "Dallying?" You thought you didn't hear him right, utterly lost at his growing grin.

***

You were fidgeting with the loose thread of your sweater as you waited in the supply closet for Alastor to return. It was a decent sized space, stacked with spare sheets, cleaning supplies and a lot of various things that were used or needed throughout the hotel. It was the perfect location for your newest prank, away from any prying or judgmental eyes - as long as no one was wandering through the hallway, except of course, for the intended victim: Angel.

"Dearest, we got the first act running along smoothly, and now, it's time for act two!". With a hushed click the door fell shut, and your heart gave a wild thump of excitement. You shifted slightly as you heard him slip next to you in the dim darkness, turning up the act and forcing a smile that was hopefully bright enough to distract him from the redness of your cheeks and the quick beat of your heart.

The last days were filled with what Alastor had called 'prep work'. His plan: Getting Angel to think you and Alastor would do 'the deed', an attempt to shatter his world view and really get under his skin. So, the both of you played it up by the daily, and whenever you were in the vicinity of the spider demon, you had been underhandedly seductive, upped on flirty comments, subtle touches and some of the worst, most suggestive innuendos you had ever made and had to hold a cringing chuckle every time you saw Alastor's comically pained expression when his back was turned to a more and more confused looking Angel.

Today would be the final part of the plan. Hidden in the supply closet, you and Alastor would wait for Angel to pass the room on his way back from the hotel's gym, as he always did on fridays, unaccompanied and ready to hear your and the radio demons carefully conducted script - something so utterly lewd that it would probably even make his boss Valentino blush. The key, in Alastor's words, was to deliver your fake sexual activities just loud enough so that he would walk past and listen and - well, you guessed you were supposed to shock him to the core.

"My shadows told me he's about to exit the gym. So, are you ready, sweetheart?", Alastor spoke with a wicked, glowing grin as you eyed the door, listening for the soft shuffle and clunking footsteps. "Showtime. Now..." His voice was low, almost sultry in its timber and proximity. You could barely react, and even though you felt nervous, you closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself enough to remember what you had to say.

The footsteps were getting louder, and you took a deep breath before shooting Alastor a glance, sly smile in place as you nodded. Go time.

"Alastor...", you sighed, almost cringing at the sound of your voice, too breathy for your own liking, and not at all sexy. This better would work... "Not here, we can't..."

"You just have to be quiet, pet...", Alastor retorted, and your face instantly burned red. It didn't sound like... that when the both of you put it into writing, not at all. Your chest clenched and heat rushed through your body, but you had to focus, had to see this through...

You struggled to hold yourself together, remembering your next line as you heard the steps outside slowing down.

"You're doing great, darling, keep it up...", he whispered, his smile tight and eyes narrow. His voice rose, making Angel on the other side of the door freeze in his steps. "Then I'll better have to keep that pretty mouth occupied."

It took all your willpower to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down your spine, instead you returned his grin with your own weak one. Keep it up echoed in your head, and you decided you were in for a penny, in for a pound: You moaned loud and sinfully while you kept your gaze locked with his before letting out a high-pitched squeak of fake-surprise, biting your lip.

You could hear Angel shuffle and listened as his ear must've neared the thin door. Your heart beat in your throat, excited to have caught both of their interests - Angel's, as well as Alastor's alike. It was as if something in the other demon snapped and he seemed to be, dare you say it, into your little act. There was a glazed over look in the crimson of his eyes, staring at you in an unreadable expression.

"My, my, aren't we eager...", Alastor mumbled, almost more to himself as his claws found their way to your hips.

"I... I'm...", you trailed off. Shit, the script, he was going off the script. What the fuck was next again?

He tilted his head slightly, pulling you closer, so close his nose bumped into yours and his lips were near enough that they nearly grazed your heated cheeks. "Al.. what are you doing?", you whispered frantically, realizing with sudden excitement the hard, long object pressing into you was NOT an ill-placed broomstick. It was like a jolt, electricity running from where his body was flush against yours, flooding your lower body and rendering you into a flustered mess. He scraped one of his claws along your throat, breathing a little to heavy to it being just an act. His hips snapped in a sudden, desperate movement, making you and him both groan at the intensity of his erection rubbing against your heated core.

Wait. His erection?

You panicked - This wasn't how this was supposed to go, but yet your traitorous body felt like it was burning hot, the sound of Alastor's strained sighs music to your ears. You wondered if he could feel the slight wetness from your core against his pants, feeling almost faint but nonetheless unreasonably aroused at the thought. His chuckle vibrated low and dark in his throat, eyes flashing as you panted helplessly against him. Your own legs began to tremble with the tension and the intensity of his movements, which now had you caged between his solid body and the wall behind you.

"I'm going to ruin you, darling...", he uttered, the pet name thick like honey leaving his lips, and you choked a breath as you moaned and felt his smile press against your jaw, traveling to your mouth, "I'm going to pick you apart, my darling dearest, and you will beg for me not to stop, never to stop until I make you forget to say anything but my name."

He was out of it. You were out of it. You forgot about the script, about the whole idea of the prank. You couldn't even care about the mumbled words that the listening Angel must've said from the other side of the door, because you were completely captured, overwhelmed by the turn of events, overwhelmed by the tall, dark demon pressed up against you who was moving his hands hungrily over your body, devouring you whole with his piercing eyes and cock throbbing against your groin, eliciting desperate whimpers with the slow movements of his hips against yours.

In a matter of seconds, Alastor had reached down to free his cock from his clothed restraints. You let out a broken whimper as he shoved up your skirt, running the smooth surface of his claw against your clothed entrance, pushing the wetness that was dripping through the thin barrier away, not a single care in the world about the sticky dampness his fingers were covered in. His mouth left yours to let his tongue lick down your neck and shoulders, teeth catching your pulse and sucking, bruising your tender skin.

“Only I am going to get to feel you, make you keen, scream and moan under my fingers and lips and cock, you hear me?”

You couldn't reply as he pushed into you, hard and in one, relentless strike. Your heart was beating impossibly fast, so fast you thought it was about to break, and the sharp pleasure mixed with pain was mind numbing and made the stars behind your shut eyes explode.

"My perfect. little. frivolous. pet."

Every word was a thrust, deeper and deeper until you couldn't take it anymore and wailed out his name in a wanton cry, so sudden and urgent that even Alastor looked shocked and ecstatic in surprise. The tension rose and exploded, and you clenched and pulsed and shivered around his shaft, feeling every inch inside of you and trying so hard to remember how to breathe. He growled into your shoulder and leaned his forehead against your neck, pulling you onto his length in sharp, hard jerks that send sparks down your body. The warmth of his cock was unreal and incredible as he stretched you again and again, a pleased hum escaping his lips and it going straight to your head.

"A-Alastor... fuck, I'm so... so close..."

His grip tightened, a vicious thrust, hitting you so deep that you threw your head back, chanting his name in desperate mewls. Every fiber of your being was tingling, an indescribable pressure building up from deep inside you, erasing your mind.

He made true to his word.

You truly forgot anything else, the only thing on your mind, his name, spilled from your lips in sync with his accelerating thrusts.

***

"I'm telling yo', they're not fucking."

Angel pulled the cat harder, almost running back to the corridor with the cursed supply closet.

"Husk, I'm a fuckin' porn actor. I know how a good shag sounds like. They're makin' the beast with two backs, and holy shit are they goin' at it."

"The beast with two back's?" Husk rolled his eyes, and groaned in exasperation as Angel jumped excitedly and shuffled the other nearer towards the closet, listening intensely.

"Don't yo' get it? It's their schtick, their sick lil' past-time-pleasure. They were bein' too quiet the last few days. And yo' falling for their dumb joke, hook, line and sinker."

Angel hesitated, eyes shifting between his grumpy looking lover and the closed door, from which he could still hear desperate moans and dull thumps. He had been so sure, but now he was uncertain. No not uncertain. He was sure.

Sure that Husk was right. Alastor and you were screwing with him, majorly so. You were playing some stupid prank on him, like you did with all the others, and now he fell for it, too! The last one standing, the only one you hadn't gotten to.

"Those sleazy, scheming bastards!"

Another loud thump made Angel turn on his heels, suddenly delighted with mischief. The last thing he heard was your voice, crying out Alastor's name in an utterly outrageous moan. He reached out in smug victory, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it with steady hands

“You prankster-bitches can cut the fuckin' act, I didn't fall for...”

A screeching, ear-ripping howl burst from the opened door. Angel shrieked in fear as black tentacles sprouted out of the frame, grabbing him and a terrified Husk, trowing them out of the corridor in a wide, long and forceful swoop. The two demons crashed against the sofas of the foyer, making them fall and tumble over. Husk groaned, fighting his way out of the mass of pillows he was buried under, while Angel was panting on the backrest of one toppled three seater, one of his hands on his heaving, fluffy chest while the other three were buried in the upholstery.

“Huh. I stand corrected.” Husk said, shaking his head at the still furiously squirming tentacles retreating into the darkness of the corridor.

“F-fucking told y-'ya!”, Angel stuttered, frozen in place. “Do me a fava', yeah? Fix me a drink so strong it makes me forget what Al's dick looks like.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Bloom

beautiful words with "bloom" for your next poem/story

Alumbloom - alumroot i.e., any of a genus (Heuchera) of North American herbs of the saxifrage family having basal rounded or lobed toothed leaves

Bitterbloom - an American centaury (Sabbatia angularis)

Bloomless - lacking bloom; sometimes: incapable of flowering

Checkerbloom - a perennial purple-flowered mallow (Sidalcea malvaeflora) that occurs wild in the western U.S. and is also cultivated

Everbloomer - an everblooming plant (i.e., blooming more or less continuously throughout the growing season)

Honeybloom - spreading dogbane i.e., a milky-juiced North American perennial herb (Apocynum androsaemifolium) having opposite entire leaves and loose spreading cymes of pinkish flowers in early summer

Maybloom - hawthorn i.e., any of a genus (Crataegus) of spring-flowering spiny shrubs or small trees of the rose family with glossy and often lobed leaves, white or pink fragrant flowers, and small red fruits

Outbloom - to exceed in bloom

Rebloom - to bloom again

Starbloom - a pinkroot (Spigelia marilandica)

Turtlebloom - turtlehead i.e., any of a genus (Chelone) of perennial North American herbs of the snapdragon family with spikes of showy white or purple flowers

Winterbloom - witch hazel; azalea

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Roses ⚜ Blossom

[melanchol1cs]

CHERRY FLAVORED

childhood friend!leon x reader

wc: 1.6k summary: sweet and sour motivation, wish i could keep concentration. masterlist | taglist | wips

no warnings. just alot of angst, mentions of marriage, cheating/infidelity, kissing. based on ‘cherry flavored’ by the neighborhood.

a/n: daddy’s home ;) super happy to be back, missed you guys so much mwaa! so i was actually working on this piece before i decided to take a break and i’m super happy i finally finished. but be warned, this doesn’t make any sense and i strongly encourage you to ignore the grammatical errors and my horrible writing. p.s. i swear the next part of ltts is almost done, just need to fix a few things and proofread (yes, this is for u @lottiies)

he had always liked cherries.

ever since you we’re kids, he would go out of his way just for those silly fruits.

you used to tease him about how much he loved them, but deep down, you enjoyed his enthusiasm too. he claims to remember how cherries were your favorite too, which is why he'd share his stash with you, and you'd pretend to savor each bite, even though they always made your face scrunch up in an exaggerated grimace.

you never really liked cherries. you found them too sticky, too sweet, but you had always made an effort for his sake.

the sticky fingers and cherry pits were all worth it though, just to see that slight, knowing smile on your face when you humored him. those small, secret moments were like little treasures he'd collect in his heart, each one more precious than the last.

he remembered the times when they'd steal a few from the farmer's market, giggling as the juice stained your fingers and lips. now, as adults, the habit remained. sometimes, on late summer mornings like these, he'd swing by your place with a bag of fresh cherries, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"hey," he'd say softly, as you opened the door to greet him, the sunlight catching the wisps of hair escaping your bun.

"thought you might like these. still got a sweet tooth, right?" he'd hand over the bag, watching as your expression transform from a sleepy haze to something short of appreciation.

“leon,” you rub your eyes begrudgingly, stepping aside as to let him in. “it’s like.. six in the morning. you can’t keep doing this,”

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, stepping into the dimly lit foyer, the overpowering scent of the fruit carrying over to you. "sorry, couldn’t help myself," he said with a shrug, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "old habits die hard, you know." he set the bag of cherries down on the entry table, the red fruit seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the front window.

“no, seriously.” you deflect, hands on your hips.

“you’re getting married next month, leon.”

he winced at the reminder, his free hand raking through his hair. "i know," he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

his smile faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small, regretful frown. the cheerfulness draining from his features like water down a drain.

"can't wait." he forced a smile, but you were certain it looked more like grimace. "ada’s been planning everything for months... i’m just along for the ride at this point." he laughs awkwardly, trying to deflect the underlying tension in the air. but he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, the words sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, unable to hold your gaze any longer. he fidgets with the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“okay,” you try to ease the awkwardness. “do you.. wanna go sit on the porch? i can make us coffees,”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks up at you, some of the tension dissipating from his frame. "coffee sounds great, thanks,"

he follows you to the kitchen, the silence between you thickening like a dense fog that clung to the trees outside. he’s perched on one of the bar stools, his long legs stretching out before him as he watched you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. the morning light highlighted the subtle lines of fatigue around your eyes, the tiny creases on your forehead, your shoulders hunched slightly in a gesture of quiet contemplation.

you hand him a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth of it seeping into your palms as you slid it across the counter. he took a sip, the flavor both bitter and sweet on his tongue. a small, contented sigh escaped him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.

“c’mon,” you tilt your head towards the door, and he’s quick to follow behind.

the morning air is crisp against his skin as he stepped outside, the chill of it seeping into his bones. he followed you to the porch steps, its wooden planks worn smooth with years of use. the world seemed to come alive in the golden glow of dawn, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the smell of petrichor carried by the wind.

he sat down beside you, the cool wood biting into his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable. you were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft crunch of cherries as he munched on the fruit. his fingers stained a deep red from the juice, the color matching the rosy hue of your cheeks in the soft morning light.

"i— i know i shouldn't keep doing this, i'm not supposed to still have feelings for you." his words trailed off, lost in the gentle lapping of the breeze against the porch railing.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "but i do." he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "i always have. and i probably always will,”

“leon,”

"you're still my best friend, you know? my person." he let out a short laugh, the sound a little shaky. “and—“

“leon.” you know what’s about to come next, and you don’t know if you can handle it.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i…” he lets out a strangled laugh, the bitterness of it written plainly across his features. “i’m sorry, don’t know why i’m like this,” he bowed his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers tangling in his hair. “i’m awful.”

“yeah,” you scoff, offering a pitiful smile. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed mirthlessly at your words, the sound raw and broken. “i know." he shook his head, his hair swishing against his wrists.

"never thought i was good for you, ‘ts why i stayed away for so long." he laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. "i thought i could move on, forget about you.” he breathes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own inadequacies.

he turned to you, his eyes, normally a bright, warm blue, were dark and heavy-lidded, the rims a deep shade of red. "please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "just one kiss. for the sake of what we could've been."

"please?” he repeated, his hands dropping to his knees, fingers curling like he wanted to crawl towards you and envelop you in his arms. your shoulders form something short of a shrug, your mouth dry, unable to respond.

he leaned in, hands coming to cup your cheeks, eyes closed, his lips pressed against yours in a soft, chaste press of mouth to mouth. he lingered for a moment, every fiber of his being silently begging you to reciprocate, praying that you'd meet him half way, that you'd kiss him back.

and for a moment, you really do think of doing so, to kiss back and feel him as more than a friend one last time. but you didn't. your lips were cold and unresponsive under his, your body stiff and unyielding. he taste of cherries and bitter regret that eventually seeps into your very core.

the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips, lingering, yearning. he didn't move away, didn't pull back, just held himself there, suspended in the moment of his foolish hope. after what felt like an eternity, he broke the contact, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"okay," he whispered, his voice small and defeated. "okay, i get it." he pulled back, sitting up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the ghost of your lips lingering there. "i shouldn't have..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“know what, i think i should go,” he stood up, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“you should,” you swallow.

he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. his eyes downcast, feet shifting nervously on the porch steps. "yeah," he mumbles, voice barely audible. "yeah, probably for the best." he picks up his bag and turns to leave, but hesitates, his hand on the railing. he spares you one last glance, his eyes a deep, aching blue. you look down, not being able to bear the weight of his gaze.

he’s out of sight the next time you look back up.

he doesn’t call or text after that, his visits become infrequent, until he they stop completely.

the world didn't slow down for you, nor did it wait for your heart to catch up. everything seemed to keep spinning, the sun rising and setting, the seasons changing, though your feelings remained stagnant. you tell yourself its for the best, that moving on is inevitable. reality is cruel that way — it never delivers on the promises of our fantasies.

eventually, you’ll start to miss him a little less, the hollow ache in your chest slowly starting to dull. life will move on, and so will you.

though the thought of him would still occasionally cross your mind, it no longer feels like a stab to the chest, but a nostalgic memory from a bygone era. something that could’ve been.

maybe you did like cherries after all.

tags: @crowleyco

[medlarmeadows]

i'm in love with you too, dumbass

cc!Charlie Slimecicle x fem!reader

Synopsis: Four times you hid your unrequited love for Charlie, and one time you discover the love is requited.

Warning(s): feelings, some tooth-rotting fluff, angst, kissing.

Word count: 4k

A/N: This is finally done! Sorry it took so long, it became much longer than I expected it to be. Will probably take a break from writing after this, because creative juices have kind of run out recently (part of the reason this took so long. Hope you enjoy it!

masterlist

1.

The chaos of conventions never failed to amaze you. Granted, it was your first time at one, but within the short period that you spent at the convention, you just felt equal parts amused and overwhelmed by everything.

Including Charlie.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t stand his presence – he was one of your best friends, of course you wanted to spend as much time with him – but if you had to swallow down the butterflies in your stomach one more time, you swore you were going to vomit them out.

As it turns out, going on an extended vacation with your best-friend-that-you-are-in-love-with-who-doesn’t-know-you’re-in-love-with-him-and-most-likely-will-not-return-the-feeling was not the best thing for your emotional and mental well-being.

To a certain extent, you were able to hide your feelings behind a camera, what with being his plus one (platonic) and camera woman (he was paying you in food, so who were you to say no?) for the convention. It was pretty rewarding too, watching him interact with fans and other creators.

You were happy seeing him be happy.

However, you were still spending hours on end with each other, so there were bound to be instances that threw you off.

“Hey, I haven’t said this yet, but you look really nice today,” Charlie told you as you were resting on some benches in a quieter part of the convention.

You nearly sputtered water out of your mouth.

“Thanks?” you replied, praying to God that your face hadn’t turned bright red. Panicking, you try for a banter:

“I mean, I look the same as always? Don’t tell me you think I look ugly on a daily basis.”

“For the record, I think you look pretty on a daily basis. You just look prettier today.”

He said it with the sincerest look on his face, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at you softly. So many words threatened to pour out of you in that moment, some suave retort on your tongue, some embarrassing confession behind gritted teeth. But all that came out was:

“You look great too.”

Charlie lets out a chuckle.

“You’re just saying that because I complimented you.”

“Well, was I not supposed to say anything? I don’t know how else I should’ve responded – ”

“How about just take the compliment, dumbass,” he huffs out, but you can hear the affection in his tone.

Affection that was 100% platonic, you tell yourself.

You’re saved from trying to come up with another response as another one of Charlie’s creator friends approaches, launching them into a discussion about something like therapy and a funny video idea.

Just like that, you were back behind the scenes, behind a camera, your pride and friendship protected for yet another day.

-

2.

When you had stepped out the house that day for a picnic, you weren’t expecting it to be so fucking cold.

It was freaking September! Why was it so windy?

You tried your best to pay attention to the story Ranboo and Moonzy were sharing, but half your focus was on not shivering whenever the wind blew through the park.

The other half was trying it’s best not to let your eyes linger on how the wind messed up Charlie’s hair just right.

“Can you pass me the strawberries?” asked Charlie.

It takes you a second to register that he was talking to you, and you give him a stiff nod, not really trusting your teeth not to chatter if you replied verbally. Your fingers seemed to also be stiff as you gripped the box of strawberries and handed it to him.

When he takes the box from you, your fingers brush just the slightest, sending a shiver down your spine that you wish you could blame on the wind.

“Thanks – Jesus, why are your hands so cold?” he exclaims.

In a second, Charlie’s put down the box of strawberries on the picnic mat and cupped your hands in his.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.

“It’s really fuckin’ wimdy,” you blurt out.

It sends your friends into a fit of laughter, Ranboo and Moonzy’s story interrupted as they burst out in giggles over your comment. You’re chuckling along with them, but you’re also still really fucking cold.

“Here, take my sweater.”

PANIC.

“Wha – what, wait – ” The rat running the hamster wheel in your brain is sprinting as you try to salvage the situation. “Then you’ll be cold, idiot.”

If you wear Charlie’s sweater, you think you might combust.

But the stupid, handsome, kind, idiot only shrugs and begins to pull his sweater over his head, before holding it out to you. You stare at him dumbly for a second, still trying to come up with a way to reject the sweater.

“God, stop being stubborn and take it, I’ll be fine,” he sighs, brandishing his sweater at you like a weapon. “We both know I’m better at dealing with the cold than you are.”

He’s right, because every time you watch a movie with him, you’re usually hogging the blanket.

But that’s different from taking his sweater!

As the cogs in your brain keep turning, you hear another sigh from him before your vision goes dark. You yelp and start batting your hands as Charlie forces his sweater over your head.

“Charlie – you fucking – I can’t see – ”

“Just wear the stupid sweater, dumbass,” he chides as he gets your head through the collar. “Now, put your arms through the sleeves, or do I need to help you with that too like the baby you are?”

Your eyes widen and you look away from him in panic. As your gaze shifts away from Charlie, you unintentionally lock eyes with Moonzy, who gives you a knowing look.

(Why was she so perceptive.)

(Why did Charlie indirectly calling you baby make your neck uncomfortably warm.)

“Guys, this isn’t the Ranboo baby stream,” you mumble as you put your arms through the sleeves.

That sends your friends into another fit of laughter and signals Ranboo and Moonzy to continue the story. Now, with everyone’s attention back on the story, you privately settle into the warmth of Charlie’s sweater.

You try not to think about how long the sleeves are as you bury your cold hands in the fabric.

You try not to think about how much bigger the sweater is on you than on Charlie.

You try not to think about how you could smell his cologne on the sweater.

-

3.

You wouldn’t say that you were a very short person. You’d like to think that you were about average height. It wasn’t your fault that most of your friends were freakishly tall.

Including Charlie.

Whose house you were currently in.

And trying to get snacks from the top of his cabinets because of-fucking-course it had to be in the highest cabinet possible.

“I swear to God if I fall, I’m charging him for my medical bills,” you mutter under your breath as you drag a chair over to climb on to. But just as you were about to put both feet on the chair, Charlie walks into the kitchen.

“ – taking so long to get the snacks,” he says as he enters, pausing when he sees you about to hop onto the chair. He stares at you quizzically, head cocked to the side.

“Why do you look like you’re about to climb onto my cabinets?”

“Because you decided to discriminate against me and put the snacks in the highest shelf possible,” you huff, resuming your mission.

But as soon as you’re rising to your full height on the chair, you feel hands place themselves on your waist. You’re lifted off the chair easily and placed back onto the floor so swiftly you don’t manage a reaction in time.

You’re still staring at Charlie dumbfounded by the time he’s replaced you at the cabinet, chair nudged aside, and retrieved the snacks.

“You could’ve just asked me to come get them, dumbass.” Charlie turns around with an armful of chips.

You’re still trying to process what just happened. You point a finger at Charlie.

“Why’d you pick me up?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

“To stop you from falling off the chair?”

“But I would’ve been fine.”

“Or you could’ve fallen. Ever heard of being safer than sorry?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to clear the fog in your brain that has randomly spawned. Your cheeks were warming, you needed to get a grip.

You’re snapped out of your head when Charlie brushes past you, turning just slightly to send you a playful smirk.

“Let’s get back to watching the movie. Or you do also need to be carried over like a princess?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snark back, annoyed at him and also yourself.

You’re grateful that he had turned back around with a chuckle, because you were pretty sure the tips of your ears were turning red based on how warm they were getting.

You spend the rest of the movie as far away from Charlie on the couch as possible. When he asks why you’re so far away (and to stop hogging the blanket), you kick at him and try to play it off as wanting to stretch your legs out.

It’s definitely not because you think your brain would shut down if you were any closer to Charlie.

-

4.

Clubbing was always a fun thing to do with friends, because no matter how many people were crowded around you, or how stinky the place was, it was always fun just jumping around and dancing with your friends.

Of course, it helped when all four of you had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol.

“Let’s dance!” Moonzy squeals, pulling you away from the group and towards some open space before you can object.

The two of you bounce around each other, showing off half-assed drunken movements of really cool dance moves (see: orange justice) and screaming the lyrics of the songs blasting through the speakers at each other.

You’re so engrossed in trying to dip Moonzy without dropping her you don’t notice Charlie come up to you until he’s right next to you, causing you to shriek.

“Jesus – Charlie!” you yell at him, smacking his shoulder for scaring you.

He rolls his eyes, nudging you with his elbow.

“Not my fault you were so caught up trying not to drop Moonzy. I just came over to see what the fuss was all about.”

Your tipsy brain latches on the implication that he was watching you and Moonzy. Your cheeks start to warm at the possibility that he was watching you.

“We were so close before you came over,” Moonzy says with an exaggerated sigh. “You ruined our moment.”

Charlie fakes offense, dramatically placing a hand on his chest.

“I sincerely apologise, fair maiden,” he says in a stupid medieval accent. “However can I make it up to you?”

Moonzy lets out a snort, shoving him playfully before stepping away, saying, “Forget it, I’m going to get us more drinks.”

She shoots you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you. Your brain catches up a second too late for you to retaliate.

Damn Moonzy and her stupid perceptiveness.

Turning towards Charlie, you feel slightly awkward now that your dance partner had left you. But it seems that Charlie didn’t feel the same as he quickly grabs your hands.

“Let me show you how to actually dip someone, dumbass,” he says with a smirk.

Your expression turns panicked for a split second, but you’re not able to object before he’s pulling you towards him sharply. One arm wraps around your waist securely and suddenly he’s dipping you low towards the ground.

You’re acutely aware of how close the two of you are, how snugly his arm fits around your body, and how you could spot the specks of brown in his blue eyes.

As he brings you back upright, your proximity to him remains the same. You let yourself get lost in his eyes for a few seconds, before you realise just how close your faces are.

Nervous, you reflexively wet your lips. Charlie’s eyes dipping from your eyes to your lips catches you off guard, causing your breath to catch in your lungs.

There are words dancing on the tip of Charlie’s tongue. Words you know would ruin you, and your friendship. Because it’s not going to mean anything to him, and it’s going to mean the world to you.

You know what he’s about to ask.

You’re not sure if you have it in you to say no.

It’s as though someone dumped an ice bucket on you as you become uncomfortably sober. You yank yourself away from Charlie, breathing heavily.

“I need to go,” you say breathlessly, eyes darting around for where Ranboo and Moonzy might be.

Charlie’s brows are furrowed, like he notices something was wrong, but he didn’t understand why you were reacting the way you did.

“I’ll take you home,” he says automatically.

“No!” you shriek before you can stop yourself.

The air between you two becomes tense. It doesn’t help that the DJ had changed the song to something slower, no noisy techno beats to diffuse the situation.

“Damn, if I was such a bad dance partner you could’ve just said so,” he jokes, but you can hear the bitterness in his tone.

“It’s not that,” you say immediately. Because it wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault.

How could it be his fault that you fell for your best friend?

“Then?” he questions. “What’s your deal?”

It’s sharp, accusatory, almost like a wounded animal. One hand is clenched and the other is fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

You know your best friend well enough to know that he’s hurt.

You know you’re fucking up your friendship in real time.

“I can’t tell you,” you choke out, cursing yourself internally because you know how flimsy that excuse was.

Charlie raises an eyebrow at you. You know he can see through your bullshit.

A moment passes between the two of you as he looks like he’s mulling over his thoughts. He runs a hand through his already messy hair, something like distress passing over his face.

You could just leave.

You don’t know why you’re waiting for his response.

“Fine,” he says slowly, grinding the word out like he’s forcing himself not to say what he actually wanted to. “But can you text the group when you’re home? Please?”

There’s concern in his eyes, even underneath all the hurt. Your heart drops like a stone because even though you were being a total asshole to him, Charlie was still looking out for your well-being.

“I will,” you promise.

You’re quick to book it out of the club after that. Not even bothering to find Ranboo and Moonzy, knowing that Charlie would eventually find his way to them and let them know what had happened.

That you had left in a hurry after being the worst friend ever.

All because of your goddamned feelings.

-

1.

You avoid Charlie for two weeks.

In fact, you avoid Ranboo and Moonzy too because the guilt of being a bad friend weighed down so heavily on you that you couldn’t bear to see your other friends.

It was isolating and caused you to spiral down a deep dark hole you didn’t know how to pull yourself out of.

You tell yourself you deserve it.

Over the course of the two weeks, you tried to formulate a way to apologise to your friends, particularly Charlie for being rude and running out on him. You spent nights muffling your frustrated yells into your pillow because you don’t know how to tell him that you were sorry without exposing your feelings for him.

Part of you wondered if you should just bite the bullet and confess.

But another part of you tells you that was stupid, and you go back to drafting apology after apology to salvage the mess you had caused.

It’s during one of those moments when you were lying on your bed deep in thought that your doorbell rang. Confused, you creep to the door to check who it was. You hadn’t ordered any food or delivery, and you weren’t expecting anyone to show up –

You spot messy brown hair and blue framed spectacles through the peephole. He’s looking down, but you recognise Charlie regardless.

Your blood runs cold.

Should you let him in? Were you even ready to face him again after you practically threw your friendship in his face? What would you even say?

Knocking on the door interrupted your thoughts. You were taking too long.

“Y/N?” called Charlie. “Please let me in. I just want to talk.”

I just want to talk. Maybe he was coming to demand an explanation. Maybe he wanted to tell you he was uncomfortable and that he didn’t want to be friends anymore. Maybe –

“I can hear you breathing on the other side of the door, I know you’re there,” he says.

You let out a heavy sigh. Your thoughts threatened to overwhelm you once more, but your hand moves before you register it. Suddenly, you’re opening the door and coming face to face with Charlie.

In the two weeks you had avoided him, it didn’t look like much had changed. He still looked healthy, save for slightly darker circles under his eyes.

Did you cause that?

The two of you stare at each other on opposite sides of the doorway. His eyes scan your face, as if gauging your reaction to him being there, before tilting his head as though asking to be let in.

Sheepishly, you step aside and allow him into your home.

The sound of the door closing is far too noisy for your nerves, making you flinch slightly as the two of you move to your living room.

Where you continue to stand in awkward silence.

Fuck, how could you have let your friendship come to this?

Charlie is the one to break the silence, placing a paper bag you hadn’t noticed him carrying on the coffee table.

“I brought your favourite pastries.”

You blink.

“Why?”

He sends you a shrug, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Thought I might butter you up before asking why you’ve been avoiding my texts and calls.”

There it was.

You worry your lip, hands fiddling with the hem of your sweater nervously. You turn your words over in your head, trying to come up with some semblance of a reason that wasn’t complete bullshit.

When Charlie realises that you’re probably not going to respond anytime soon, he sighs and continues:

“I came to apologise, too.”

That snaps you out of your thoughts. Your head snaps to look at him as you meet your gaze directly for the first time since the club.

“Why?” you ask, cringing when you realised that’s exactly what you had said a minute prior.

Charlie runs a hand through his hair, eyes closing briefly like he’s steeling himself.

“At the club,” he begins slowly, “I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for that. I should’ve asked first, should’ve waited for you to respond to dancing together and being that close. I’m sorry – ”

“No, stop. Don’t apologise,” you interrupt him, eyes wide. His expression falls, and you think you see fear in his eyes.

So, you ramble on like a steam train running off track. Your words pour out of your mouth before you can filter them.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t make me uncomfortable – I mean, I was uncomfortable, but that was my own doing. None of it is your fault, I should be the one apologising for avoiding you and – and being a terrible friend.”

You pause to take a deep breath. Charlie’s mouth is hanging open slightly, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

You push on before you can stop yourself. Before your brain could tell you that this was a bad idea.

Because you know your next words could change everything.

“I’ve been a shit friend to you because I’m in love with you, Charlie.”

It feels like time stops for you, as you gauge his reaction. You hold your breath without realising and watch him carefully.

This was the moment he was going to tell you that he doesn’t feel the same. That he’s not comfortable being your friend anymore. That he doesn’t want to see you again. That he –

He laughs.

Not a full belly laugh, but a snort that leads to a chuckle. That crinkles the corners of his eyes and fills them with joy.

You feel a pang in your chest, and tears start to prick your eyes. Taking a step back from Charlie, you lower your gaze shamefully.

But then he’s striding up to you and lifting your head up to look at him with gentle fingers on your chin. Charlie’s other hand brushes down your arm to take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together.

“Don’t apologise,” he says, eyes shining. “I’m in love with you too, dumbass.”

It’s your turn to have your mouth hanging open as you process his words.

“You’re what?” you ask dumbly.

He chuckles again, hand moving from your chin to hold your cheek. You can’t help but tilt slightly into his warmth, revelling in his affection.

“I’m. In. Love. With. You.”

He punctuates each word carefully, sincerely, like he’s making sure that they pierce through your confusion and straight into your heart.

And they do, because the weight lifts from your chest, and the corners of your mouth start to raise into a smile.

Because your best friend was in love with you too.

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “For how long?”

He hums as he thinks, thumb caressing the side of your face.

“Several months, now? Before we went to that convention in LA,” he admits.

“Me too, holy shit,” you breathe, letting out a small chuckle. “Were we just dumb this whole time?”

“Mm, no, I think that’s just you,” he teases, giving your nose a pinch.

You feel your cheeks warm at the action, but you manage to give a sarcastic, “Sure thing.”

Charlie let’s out a breathy laugh at your response, before his eyes turn serious again and he cups your face in both his hands.

“I’m in love with you,” he reiterates. “Can I please kiss you?”

You tell him yes without hesitation, your hands coming up to hold the back of his neck. Because finally you could let your feelings come through as transparent as glass.

He pulls you close and slots his mouth over yours, capturing you in a sincere kiss.

Time stands still again as you embrace. The two of you pour out months of frustration and unrequited feelings (that was really requited the whole time) into the kiss.

When the two of you pull apart, there’s joy shining in both of your eyes. The moment is sweet, before it’s broken by laughter as the two of you consider the stupidity of your situation again.

Charlie spends the rest of the day at your place, the two of you passing stories back and forth when you were hiding your feelings. And when your expression darkens a little as you remember that you have to apologise to Ranboo and Moonzy for avoiding them too, he kisses a little bit of the darkness away.

Finally, you no longer had to hide your feelings deep in your chest.

Finally, you could wear them on your sleeve, as the one you love held your hand.

The end.

[orofeaiel]

Red Juice Tooth

[notiddygothgf]

17. Not a Date

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝Is this a date? ❞

★ c.w.: suggestive content. tooth rotting fluff. the hayakawa family being the hayakawa family. denji and power need their own warning.

★ a/n: HIIII EVERYONEEEEE!!! im back from my unofficial hiatus. So let me spill the tea -- as you all may know, I'm a Premedical student, and let me tell you..... finals did my ass INNNNN!! it was a struggle to stay alive but we #survived. I haven't been feeling like myself lately, but I'm taking a winter vacation to my lovely motherland, Puerto Rico, and I am SOOOO at peace rn. It's done wonders for my creative juices.

Thank you all for leaving such wonderful comments on all of the chapters while I was away. Yes, I've been reading them, and, yes, I've been cracking up over them for the past two-ish months. Y'all are fuckin hilarious. Anyway!! To make up for my absence, I've decided to double update and feed the girlies. I'm so sorry! I didn't forget about y'all... but....

Y'all know the drill... the more you comment, the more I update! comment away!! hugs and kisses from PR!!

★ w.c: .4.1k

shameless ; chapter index

As Aki was presently in no shape to cook, the two of you decided to go out for dinner. You tried hard not to think too hard about what it meant – of course, it was hard to ignore the way he tossed a twenty at Denji and Power and told them not to kill the delivery driver (and, subsequently, to not call him unless it was a dire emergency).

It wasn’t a date. He hadn’t asked you on a date, yet, so it wasn’t one.

So why did you feel so nervous?

Picking at the seam of your Public Safety slacks – the only decent outfit you had available, unless you counted your unlimited supply of oversized clothes from your not-quite-boyfriend – you shifted in your seat. Your eyes flitted over the restaurant, its patrons, the red wallpaper; anything but the handsome young officer sitting in front of you.

Aki was sitting directly across from you, long legs spread beneath the table, donning a blue button down shirt and some black slacks. It wasn’t the Public Safety uniform you had been so used to but, still, it was nice. His hair was down, the way you liked it, framing his pretty face beneath the dim lighting in a way that had your heart thrumming anxiously against your ribcage. 

Again, though, it wasn’t a date. He hadn’t said it was a date. 

You were just nervous because it was the first time you and him had gone out to eat together… alone.

Your plate was empty. Aki’s plate still had a few pieces of spaghetti on it. Long, pretty fingers plucked a fork off the table and twirled the noodles around until they were all balled up. He popped the spaghetti into his mouth, chewing with a quiet hum to signify his satisfaction.

Finally, he replied to the question you had asked a minute earlier. “November 11th.”

“You’re a scorpio?” You tilted your head, flashing him a funny little smile despite the horde of butterflies loose in your chest. 

“I guess,” He shrugged. He polished off the remainder of his spaghetti in one bite. “What about you?”

“Cancer,” You answered. “July 12th.”

He only nodded, smiling faintly as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. The motion was casual, but there was something disarming about the way his smile lingered—warm and unhurried, like the late afternoon sunlight stretching across the café table. It made you falter, your own words catching in your throat as you searched for some confirmation, some clue in his expression to tell you what this was.

When his response came only in the form of that soft smile, the silence began to press down on you. A beat passed, then another, before you let the intrusive thought escape. “We’re supposed to be compatible.”

“Are we?” His grin deepened, and though it carried his usual dry amusement, there was an edge of curiosity there too—like he was testing the weight of your words.

“That’s what the zodiac says, anyway.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you reached for your glass of water. The rim felt cool against your lips, a welcome distraction from the heat creeping up your neck. You told yourself it was ridiculous to put so much stock into something you’d read in a horoscope, and yet, your heart still beat a little faster when he tilted his head, considering you.

When the busboy came to collect the plates, Aki leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening as it settled on you. You caught it in your peripheral vision and turned toward him, only to find his expression unreadable but impossibly fond. That low hum of agreement that followed—“I have to agree”—seemed to reverberate in your chest, grounding you and upending you all at once. 

Your breath hitched, and you felt your composure slipping, the warmth rising from your chest to your face, blooming like a flush of petals that wouldn’t stop spreading. Were you imagining it? Reading too much into a simple response? He had always been measured with his words, careful to say only what he meant—but what did this mean?

The thoughts looped in your mind as you stared down at the now-cleared table, the edges of the placemat a blur. When you finally looked up, his eyes were still on you, patient, as though waiting for you to catch up to some conclusion he’d already reached.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Is this a date?”

For a split second, you panicked. Maybe you’d said too much. Maybe you’d made it weird. But then his eyebrows raised, just slightly, and his lips curved into something small but genuine. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well…” You tried to play it cool, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you’d intended. “It feels like one.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, leaning forward just enough for his elbow to rest against the edge of the table. “I would’ve dressed a little nicer if I knew I was taking you out out.” His tone was teasing, but the look in his eyes suggested something more—a hopefulness that mirrored your own.

Your heart swelled at the words, a warmth unfurling in your chest that no amount of teasing could deflate.

“Do you… want it to be a date?” He asked, then.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the directness of the question, and you wondered if he could see how your pulse quickened. 

“I dunno… I mean,” You sighed, “On paper, I’m still married.”

Aki quirked a brow, “I think we’re a little far past that, aren’t we?”

You laughed – a genuine one, one that made your chest feel light. “I mean, it just doesn’t feel right – us dating before the divorce is finalized.”

There it was again. That word – divorce. 

It was hard to believe all of this was really happening.

“Then, it doesn’t have to be a date,” He shrugged, as if divorce and making the relationship official weren’t a big deal. Then, as if he had sensed the way you deflated, he added, “We can go on our first date when everything is finalized – go out ‘n celebrate,” Then, he smiled, “I’d take you somewhere way nicer than this, anyway.”

You could have laughed at the absurdity of it all. In fact, you almost did. “Celebrating a divorce with your mistress. That’s not something you hear every day,” You grinned. 

For a moment, a part of you doubted if this—all of this—was the right thing to do. The thought lingered like a shadow, nudging at the edges of your mind even as you tried to ignore it. Was it too soon? Too messy? Too complicated? The weight of your still-intact marriage loomed large, a tether that made it hard to feel fully present. But even as those doubts surfaced, another part of you felt freer than you had in years—like unshackling yourself from a life that had stopped fitting long ago.

A part of you wondered if – after all was said and done – Aki would leave you hanging. Leave you all alone with nothing but the wreckage of your life. 

But you took one long look into his eyes, and you knew that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Half-lidded and glimmering with affection, his eyes gazed back at you with nothing but pure adoration. He was in love.

I don’t think I have anything to worry about, you thought. As long as I have him, that is.

Before either of you could speak again, the waiter approached, his polite smile breaking the stillness of the moment. “How was everything?” he asked, his voice chipper.

Aki leaned back slightly, his tone relaxed yet earnest. “It was wonderful, thank you.”

The waiter nodded, seeming pleased, and placed the check down on the table. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said before stepping away, leaving you both alone again.

You reached for your purse instinctively, fingers brushing the leather strap as you glanced at the small black folder between you and Aki. But before you could pull it closer, he slapped his card down onto the table.

“Don’t even think about it,” He grumbled, though there was a flirty lilt to his words. 

“Aki, you’ve already done so much for me, letting me crash and–” You sighed, attempting to gently pry the checkbook out from beneath his fingertips. “At least let me pay for this.”

“No,” He answered without saving a beat. 

You furrowed your brows, “Halvsies?”

He made a similar expression, tilting his head at you as if that was the stupidest question he had ever been asked, “Are we… friends, or something?”

“Not really,” You bit your lip, a cheeky little smile threatening to break loose. “We’re not really dating, either, though, are we?”

“Friends don’t say I love you,” Aki slid the checkbook back over to his side of the table. Leaning in, he added, “A friend wouldn’t make you cum the way I do, either.”

Your face was on fire – you were probably red as a fire truck. You hissed, “Aki.”

“It’s the truth,” He replied. It was evident that he couldn’t possibly have cared less about where the two of you were. 

“What, so you’re telling me you don’t go around giving all of your friends head?” You whispered back, barely fighting off a smile.

“You won’t win this game, so don’t start,” He deadpanned. Unfolding the checkbook, he glanced over the bill, quickly slipping his card into the slot at the top. “Or I can show you just how friendly I am when we get home.”

His words made you bristle in an almost feline manner. “Who says I don’t want that?”

The waiter came by the table a second time, swiping up the checkbook as he did so. Aki looked at you with a smirk that implored you to try and pay the bill now.

“You’re a fiend,” He muttered with a shake of his head. “I just got out of the hospital, anyway. Doctor told me to avoid any…” Here, his gaze dipped, running over the length of your shoulders, your trembling hands. “Strenuous activity.”

You leaned forward, perching your chin on your palm. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you teased. “Wouldn’t want you to pull your back.”

He quirked a brow. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you test my patience,” He replied. “Try and make me give you what you want.”

“And what do I want, Captain?” You licked your lips – shamelessly, too. You were truly unhinged.

Aki visibly folded at the nickname, eyes softening. His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but before he could, the waiter returned with the check, setting it down on the table in front of Aki with a quiet, “Have a lovely evening.” 

“If you wait thirty minutes,” He purred, “I can show you.”

(You had never left a restaurant quicker in your entire life).

Aki wound up doing no such thing. In fact, the two of you made a little pit stop at the convenience store to pick up some essential items for you – including skincare and a four animal-print face masks – before going home. Now, Aki sat sandwiched between you and the couch, with you sitting in his lap, laying a face mask onto his skin. His bangs were clipped back with the stupid little butterfly clips you had picked up, and he looked adorable – jammies and all.

He pouted, “This feels ridiculous.”

“Oh, shut up,” You retorted with a roll of your eyes, “They’re supposed to be relaxing, and you could stand to loosen up a little.”

A few feet away, Denji was trying to show Power how to open a face mask packet. It was a fruitless endeavor – one that ended with her biting into the plastic and ripping it off with her teeth. While he argued with her, his own tiger-print mask was sliding off of his face. His hair was clipped in the front the same way Aki’s was.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Denji muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement.  

Aki sighed. “This is chaos.”  

“And yet,” you teased, running a finger over his mask for the final smoothing touch, “You’re still here, participating.”  

Just as you turned to grab your own face mask, you felt Aki’s fingers wiggle against your sides. A squeal tore from your throat as he tickled you mercilessly, his stoic mask cracking into a rare grin.  

“Aki! Stop!” you yelped, squirming to escape.  

“Not until you admit this is ridiculous,” he teased, his voice light in a way that sent a flutter through your chest.  

“Never!” you cried, twisting in his lap and finally managing to push his hands away.  

The moment you turned back to scold him, Aki caught you off guard. His hands found your waist again, but this time, they steadied you just before he leaned in and kissed you. It was soft and unhurried, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and your heart stuttered in response.  

Aki's kiss caught you entirely off guard. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away—when you instead leaned into him—he pressed in just a little more. His hands, still resting at your waist, tightened slightly, grounding you. The faint scent of his cologne, crisp and woodsy, mingled with the faint cucumber aroma of the face mask, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.  

Your hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders, and the tension that always seemed to weigh him down melted under your touch. It wasn’t like Aki to be so open, so unguarded, but in this instant, there was nothing but the quiet exchange of warmth, a wordless confession in the way his lips lingered against yours.  

It wasn’t until Denji’s exaggerated gagging sound shattered the stillness that the spell broke. “Blech! Get a room!”  

Power tilted her head, squinting. “Why would they need a whole room? The couch is big enough.”  

You pulled away, face burning as Aki shot Denji a look that could wither a plant. “Mind your business.”  

“Hard to do when you’re face-smashin’ right in front of me!” he retorted, adjusting his sliding mask with exaggerated annoyance.  

You pulled back first, albeit reluctantly, though it wasn’t much of a retreat—your faces still hovered close, noses nearly brushing. Aki’s eyes flickered open, his usual calm slightly disrupted by the barest hint of embarrassment, though he didn’t let you go. His hands remained firm at your waist, keeping you close as if he wasn’t quite ready for the moment to end either.  

Your breath came out in a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over your thudding heart. “Well,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly, “that’s one way to loosen up.”  

Aki’s lips quirked into a small smile, his voice low and teasing. “I think I’m starting to like spa night. Let’s do this more often.”

Denji groaned dramatically, throwing himself back against the couch cushions. “Ugh, you two are the worst.”  

You sighed, your gaze still locked with Aki’s for a beat longer before you finally, begrudgingly, pulled away fully. You missed the way his fingers lingered at your waist, how his eyes followed you even as you turned to address Denji.  

“Alright, fine,” you said, shaking off the lingering butterflies. “We have about 20 minutes with these masks. What do you guys wanna do to blow time?”

Denji perked up at that, glaring at you like he’d just been handed ammunition. Aki, meanwhile, leaned back against the couch, his expression settling back into its usual calm—though the faintest flush on his cheeks betrayed him. You felt it too, a warm buzz that lingered on.

Aki’s arm rested comfortably around your shoulders, his thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles against your upper arm. Despite the teasing and laughter filling the room, you felt grounded by his steady presence.  

“Truth or dare?” Aki asked suddenly, his calm voice cutting through the noise.  

Denji blinked, his brow furrowing. “What’s that?”  

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s a game, Denji. You pick ‘truth’ or ‘dare.’ If you pick truth, you have to answer any question honestly. If you pick dare, you have to do whatever the other person tells you.”  

Denji’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’m gonna make you all regret teaching me this. Alright, cool. I dare Power to take a bath.”  

Power’s head snapped up, indignation written all over her face. “I never said dare! I was going to say truth!”  

Denji shrugged. “Truthfully, you smell like shit.”  

Power gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest. “You DARE insult me in my own home?”  

“You DARE stink up my air?” Denji fired back. “Seriously, it’s bad. Like, I’m surprised we’re all still breathing.”  

You turned to Aki, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to say something about this?”  

He gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable but his lips twitching with amusement. “For once, I’m with him.”  

“See? Even stick-in-the-ass agrees with me,” Denji cackled.  

“Fuck you,” Aki hissed. “Twat.”

Power huffed, folding her arms with exaggerated pride. “I’ll only bathe if I lose a dare.”  

The game surged forward in full chaotic force after Power’s dramatic declaration. She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms smugly, as if daring someone to challenge her resolve. Denji, of course, took that as a personal mission.  

“Alright, alright,” Denji said, cracking his knuckles. “Next round. Power, truth or dare?”  

“Truth,” Power said immediately, grinning. “I’m far too cunning for your ridiculous dares.”  

Denji’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Fine. What’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever done?”  

Power didn’t even hesitate. “I ate a bug I found under the sink last week.”  

“Oh my god,” you shrieked, recoiling in horror.  

Denji looked torn between admiration and nausea. “That’s so gross but… also kinda badass.”  

“Badass?!” you exclaimed, turning to Aki for support.  

“She’s disgusting,” Aki said flatly, though there was a flicker of exasperated amusement in his expression.  

Power preened at the response. “Thank you for noticing my magnificence. My turn again!”

“No way,” Denji interrupted. “You don’t get to go twice in a row. It’s their turn.” He pointed at you and Aki, his grin turning sharp. “Alright, lovebirds. Which one of you is gonna play?”  

Aki sighed, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “I’ll go. Truth.”  

Denji rubbed his hands together like an evil mastermind. “Are you guys in an actual relationship or are you just fuckin’?”  

The room went quiet, the tension crackling like static electricity.  

Aki didn’t flinch, his expression calm as he met Denji’s expectant stare. “That’s not really your business.”  

“Hey, hey, that’s not how the game works!” Denji protested, waving his arms. “You gotta answer!”  

Aki shrugged, completely unbothered. “I just did.”  

You nudged him with your elbow, though your cheeks were burning. “By not answering, you’re only giving him more ammunition.”  

Denji groaned loudly, throwing himself back against the couch. “You two are so boring. Power, do something dramatic!”  

Power snapped to attention. “Truth or dare?” she demanded, pointing at Denji.  

“Dare,” he replied instantly, his bravado returning.  

Power grinned like a cat about to pounce. “I dare you to run outside and yell ‘Power is the queen of the world’ at the top of your lungs!”  

Denji didn’t even hesitate. He leapt to his feet and bolted out the door. A moment later, his voice rang through the night, startling several nearby birds.  

“Power is the queen of the world!”  

When he stomped back inside, his chest heaving, you couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re insane.”  

“Yeah, but I’m fun,” Denji shot back, collapsing onto the couch with a proud grin.  

Denji's triumphant declaration echoed through the room as he plopped back onto the couch, shaking water droplets from his hair after his dramatic outdoor yell. Power cackled, her chest puffed up in exaggerated pride as though his dare somehow validated her self-proclaimed title.  

“Alright, alright,” Denji said, waving a hand as he caught his breath. “Who's next? Let’s keep this going before it gets boring again.”  

You raised your hand. “I’ll go. Power, truth or dare?”  

Power smirked, leaning forward. “Dare, obviously. Give me your best shot, mortal.”  

You grinned, eyes narrowing. “I dare you to drink this entire bottle of water without spilling it, using only your mouth—no hands.”  

Power squawked in outrage. “This is an insult to my dignity! I am no dog!”  

“Well, you don’t smell much better than one,” Denji quipped, earning himself a glare.  

With a dramatic flourish, Power leaned forward, grabbed the edge of her bottle with her teeth, and awkwardly tipped her head back. The water sloshed everywhere, soaking her shirt and the couch cushions. She spat the bottle out onto the coffee table with a proud grin. “Success!”  

“Yeah, sure,” Aki muttered, brushing a hand over his damp pants where some of the water had splashed.  

“Your turn, Aki,” Denji said, rubbing his hands together. “Truth or dare?”  

Aki sighed deeply, as if already regretting his decision. “Dare.”  

Denji’s grin turned predatory. “I dare you to let your hair down for the rest of the night.”  

Aki blinked, caught off guard. “That’s it?”  

“No, wait—” Denji’s face lit up with a devilish thought. “And you have to let Power style it!”  

Power howled with laughter. “Yes! I’ll do it!”  

You watched, half-amused and half-apologetic, as Aki begrudgingly sat still while Power tugged and twisted his hair with zero finesse, producing a lopsided braid that looked like it had barely survived a hurricane.  

“There,” Power declared, clapping her hands together. “Magnificent!”  

Aki reached up to feel the disaster on his head, his expression unamused. “I’m never trusting any of you again.”  

“Okay, okay, my turn!” Denji said eagerly. “Truth or dare, babe?” He pointed dramatically at you.  

At this point, who gave a shit about order, right?

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “Dare.”  

His grin widened. “Alright, I dare you to answer this question – am I cute?”  

Your jaw dropped. “That’s not a dare!”  

“Sure it is,” Denji said, shrugging with mock innocence. “You have to answer, or you lose. So, what’s it gonna be? Am I cute, or am I not cute?”  

Power leaned forward, clearly invested. “Answer truthfully, mortal. Denji’s fragile ego depends on this.”  

Aki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.  

You crossed your arms, glaring at Denji, who looked entirely too smug. “Fine. You’re... adorable.”

The room erupted into laughter.  

“I’m not adorable!” Denji shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “What do you think I am, a dog?”

“Exactly,” you replied, grinning.  

Aki, clearly enjoying himself now, leaned back with an amused hum. “Sounds accurate to me.”  

Power, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, added, “You do smell like a dog most of the time, so it’s fitting.”  

“Traitors, all of you!” Denji grumbled, flopping back against the couch dramatically. “I’m the cutest one here, and you all know it.”  

Aki shook his head, his voice calm but cutting. “Keep telling yourself that.”  

Denji shot him a look. “Fine, Aki, your turn again! Truth or dare?”  

“Truth,” Aki said without hesitation.  

Denji’s mischievous grin returned. “Alright, serious question. Do you think you’re cute?”  

You couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of you. “Oh, this is good.”  

Aki didn’t even flinch. “No.”  

Okay then.

The bluntness of his answer caught Denji off guard. “Wait, seriously?”  

Aki shrugged. “I don’t think about it.”  

“Lame,” Denji groaned. He turned to you. “Do you think he’s cute? Like, boyfriend cute?”  

The room went silent again, and you felt every pair of eyes on you. Your face heated under the scrutiny, but you refused to back down.  

“Yes,” you said firmly, meeting Aki’s gaze. “He is.”  

For a moment, Aki just stared at you, his eyes softening. Then he reached up, brushing his hand lightly against your hair. “Thanks,” he said quietly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. (Of course, it was hard to take him seriously when his hair was so atrociously braided).

“Don’t start,” Denji groaned, breaking the moment. 

“You asked,” you shot back, laughing.  

a/n: hiiiiiii, i hope you liked the fruits of my labor. (the real holdup was actually next chapter, which proved to be much more difficult to write)... anywho i'm not gonna say too much because I'll see y'all in the next chapter. Let me know your thoughts!! Ta ta!! xx QOTD: do you think denji sneaks into aki's room to try on his clothes when he's not home? bc i do.

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[notjustjavierpena]

Ring

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is written for an anon who wanted to see Chucho passing on Javier’s mother’s engagement ring to his son. It just happened. It’s not very long, but it’s certainly made me feel so many things.

Summary: You meet Chucho Peña for the first time.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: brief mention of Javi’s deceased mother, tooth-rotting fluff, absolute delulu-land writer me, Chucho is a great father

Word count: 1.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50101930

Ring

Javier looks at you as you lean back into the cheap garden chair on his father’s back porch, resting the tip of your beer bottle against your lips whilst finishing your sentence. Beside him, he can hear Chucho talking about the upcoming apple season and the need for a helping hand to make apple juice to sell at the stall by the road during September. You sound genuinely interested in a way that Javier never was himself.

He continues looking at you. There are flowers in your hair; three small, braided daisies resting behind your ear because you think it is cute. They are the result of getting here early. You had bent down to pluck them from the side of the road and said something about making an extra effort now that you are meeting his Pop for the first time, something about honoring the remains of Spring too. He had held back an embarrassing and vulnerable line about reliving Spring at its peak every time he spends time with you.

There are bows on your dress straps too, just like the day that he met you. They’re white to match the flowers, resting so prettily on top of your shoulders that he wants to kiss until you sigh softly with your lips resting in his hair.

“I’m your girl,” you say and the words snap Javier out of his trance, disappointing him when he realizes that they aren’t directed at him. You look around to prove your point, “This place is idyllic.”

“You’re certainly more enthusiastic than my son,” Chucho says with a glint in his eye, “Yet he never seemed to complain when his mother fattened him up with apple pies.”

Javier can feel his cheeks heat up in a mix of shyness and anxiety to hear his mother brought up, making him shift a little in his seat. He mumbles something snarky under his breath, but the visible embarrassment on his face earns him the privilege of you leaning in over his armrest to melt into him.

His father gives him a soft and knowing smile.

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife, Mr. Peña,” you give your condolences even if you know that it’s been decades.

“Thank you, mija,” Chucho replies.

“I do make a mean apple pie though, so maybe traditions won’t die out completely,” you add with a grin, and Javier’s arm comes around your shoulder. He holds you so tightly.

“You can use the kitchen someday,” he suggests, looking at his father who still sports that knowing look. They have a conversation without saying anything to each other, simply sharing a look of understanding.

“It would be my pleasure,” Chucho tells you.

*

When the night comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom before your drive home. You blame it on the beer, chuckling softly as you say something about alcohol making you piss four times in an hour, red in the face as you feel like you are verging on embarrassing yourself. Javier loves how simple everything is with you. No games, no facades, so yourselves around each other that it’s nauseating.

“She’s nice,” Chucho says when it’s finally only him and his son in the kitchen.

“Just nice?” Javier looks down at his feet. The two of them stand against the kitchen table, and Javier swears that he can feel the presence of his mother’s warm touch, hear her soft voice, and see her smile in the kitchen atmosphere. Nothing feels uncomfortable about the silence that stretches for what feels like a minute but is probably no more than ten seconds.

“Excuse me for not knowing what to say,” his father continues with kind teasing, “Lorraine was the last girl you brought over, and that went south quickly.”

“Pops.”

Chucho holds up his hands in surrender.

“I think this is it,” Javier then tells him with his stomach doing an unbelievable amount of somersaults, “I mean it this time. I can fe—“

“I know, mijo.”

“You know?” Javier finally looks up at his father.

“I see the way that you’re lookin’ at her,” Chucho elaborates and the teasing ceases, kindness only remaining, “I only had those kinda eyes for your mamá. She would have liked her too.”

Javier looks away. He clears his throat, “Yeah. I think you’re right. Even if she was picky.”

“She knew what was best for you, Jav, it’s a parents’ job,” Chucho starts to move. He takes off his hat to place it on the countertop, moving to the kitchen cabinet furthest to the right, “Which is why I’ve got something for you before you leave.”

He stretches a little to reach behind the stacks of plates, fumbling for a moment when he isn’t tall enough to see what he is doing. Javier watches curiously as his father retrieves a box of matches, pulling it open to reveal that it doesn’t contain any.

Instead, a golden band with a simple diamond resides in the box. Javier recognizes it immediately as his mother’s engagement ring and his eyes widen whilst his breath catches, heart hammering in his chest, “Dad, I—“

“Take it,” Chucho pushes.

Javier holds out his hand. The golden band feels heavy in his palm as it is placed there, weighing down due to the responsibility that follows with it. However, with every passing second, the weight becomes lighter as he feels at ease with the idea of making you his forever.

Colombia teaches one to see through all the bullshit. He briefly thinks back to his meeting with Lorraine at the wedding reception, and he knows now that what he felt back then was longing. What he feels with you is needing. He needs you.

“Are you sure?” He still asks.

“She’s perfect, son,” his father reassures, even throws the matchbox out to stress his point, “And I want some grandchildren soon.”

“Whoa,” Javier laughs and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. He pockets the ring carefully, “One thing at a time.”

“I’m gettin’ old, want to watch them play in the apple orchard once,” he shrugs, “What’s your excuse?”

“I want to do it the right way, make mamá happy,” he replies. He hears the bathroom door unlocking.

“Who would’ve thought? There’s finally something keeping the Hero of Laredo here,” Chucho smirks and pats his son’s back, “Perhaps she may even make an honest man out of you.”

Javier doesn’t get to say something snarky back since you enter the kitchen. You look tired but you look so comfortable, cute, and happy.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“We don’t need to help with anything?” You gesture to the kitchen. Javier cannot believe that you don’t know that he has an engagement ring in his pocket.

“Not at all,” Chucho reassures, “Cleaning up after a dinner party winds me down, readies me for bed. I promise.”

“Well, it was so nice to meet you,” you go to hug him.

“A pleasure,” Chucho corrects you when he hugs you back.

In the car, a slow song plays on the radio as Javier drives you home to his apartment. He didn’t dare tell his father that he is already looking at house prices and adverts, building a life with you in his mind every time he looks at you without you noticing.

“Think he liked me?” You ask whilst half-asleep.

“Not at all, definitely thought you were awful,” Javier jokes and it earns him a slap to his arm. He grins at you boyishly.

“Shut up, I mean it,” you sit up straighter, “I was shitting my pants, Peña.”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” he eventually says.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[henneseyhoe]

🍰HENNY’s HEADCANON BAKERY!🍰

DRINKS- Thirsty? Grab a drink!

Coffee • Smut

Fruit juice • Angst

Tea • Fluff

MAINS- Perfect for a sweet tooth!

Strawberry Cheesecake • Hair pulling

Red velvet cake • Romantic style

Lemon meringue pie • Jealousy

Vanilla muffin • Soft sex

Double chocolate chip cookie • Threesome

Sour raspberry croissant • Biting

Apple pie slice • BD/SM

Blueberry muffin • Dom!reader

Banana nut muffin • Dom!Character

Peach cobbler • Spanking

Pineapple turnover • Spit

Jelly filled donut • Creampie

Cinnamon roll • Public sex

Chocolate pudding • Food play

Cake pop • Degradation

Hawaiian Bread • Praise

Smores • Virginity

Dip n’ dots • Corruption

Sorbet • Bondage

Carrot cake • Toys

Mini Bar • A sweet that isn’t here (Your pick!)

TREATS- Our sweetest menu!

Cherry lollipop • Enemies to lovers

Watermelon lollipop • Friends to lovers

Vanilla wafer • Forced marriage

Chocolate wafer • Forbidden love

Strawberry sweetheart • Neighbors to lovers

Apple and caramel • Obsessed!character

Chocolate kisses • Secret admirer

Salted caramel • Stuck together

Peanut brittle • Bestfriends brother/sister

Tea cake • Amnesia

Coffee cake • Fake relationship

Macarons • Fling

Strawberry blondie • Ex/Situationship

Brownie • Sunny vs grumpy

Macadamia nut cookie • Marriage pact

Vanilla beignet • Blind to love

Oreo crumb cake • Secret baby

Cream puff • Unexpected pregnancy

Churro poppers • Mafia x civilian

Cookie brownie • A sweet that isn’t here (your trope!)

Ask example(s):

“Can I have Coffee and Tea with Smores, a Blueberry muffin, a Strawberry sweetheart and a Vanilla muffin served by (Insert person name here)?”

“Would (Insert person name) like Sorbet and and Cinnamon rolls?”

💌 Disclaimer! This concept is not my idea! I just made the menu. Creds to creators of the dividers! Any further questions can be asked in dms or the same inbox. <3

[justpoliteconversations]

Small Problems [Chain + Reader]

The Chain have a small problem on their hands. Not that you mind.

Working on making small posts for the trash heap. Just to fill the spaces.

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You stared down at the nine piles of familiar looking clothes with no small amount of confusion, because you were pretty damned sure those were the boys'. And those piles were very obviously missing the men that should be wearing them. Thus, your confusion. And suspicion.

"You guys better not be running around the woods naked. I expect this behavior from Wild and Hyrule. Wind even." You said, narrowing your eyes and glancing around the clearing intently. Masking your sudden alertness with taunting words. "But you, Warriors? And here I thought you were a gentleman. And Time? For shame."

You shook your head slowly, using the motion to widen your line of vision, searching for any sign of foul play. For signs of a struggle, discarded weapons, unusual imprints in the grass or dirt around the camp. Anything to explain this oddity.

Then you found it sitting inconspicuously near the fire pit next to a still simmering pot of broth. An open jar that should have been sealed, containing the special 'Honey' you'd warned the boys not to touch. For this very reason.

Its actual name was Minish Honey, and it was made exclusively by the northern Minish folk of your country. By itself, perfectly harmless. But add salt, and...

The most shit eating grin stole across your face, eyes gleaming with delight as realization kicked in. "Oh~! Did someone get a sweet tooth?" You sing-songed, skin tingling in anticipation as you got to your knees and started to crawl towards the first pile of clothes. Twilight's.

"Come out, come out, Twi~. I know you couldn't have gotten far~."

You found the pile of Twilight's furs and rumpled cloths empty. But no matter. There were plenty of places to check for sneaky little stowaways.

You peeked impishly into the next pile. "Rulie~." Empty as well, but you weren't deterred. Your smile only grew as you prowled further into the campsite.

"Oh dear!" You giggled, still crawling slowly across the camp like a stalking predator, glancing into piles of clothes and inside of nearby boots as you went.

You heard the slightest shuffling of movement near the packs, and your heart filled with butterflies. You slowly crawled over to the boy's bags, eyes intent on the space between Legend's and Warrior's.

"How will I be able to help you all if I can't find you~!" You sing-songed again, before lowering your face to peek between the bags with one, giant, sparkling eye. "Why, hello there~"

"Please." Wars pleaded in a tiny voice, cute little face cherry red and clutching an embroidered handkerchief around his equally tiny form. Behind him, Twilight was hiding himself in Hyrule's left sock, and you knew this because it had a rip at the toe he was using as a neck hole. "Don't make this any harder than it already is."

Wild peeked out from behind Twilight wearing Hyrule's other sock (which had a large hole in the sole that hung off his shoulders), and waved excitedly at you. Wind's head poking out the hole as well to wave just as excitedly, nearly tipping them both over in the process.

Then the top of Four's head and ears peeked out from below Wind's chin and you lost it, slumping over entirely into the dirt with peals of laughter. And when you caught sight of Legend, scowling, flustered and covered waist down by a thick ring hung snugly around his hips, your soul may or may not have left your body for a time.

It took some time for you to get yourself under control. Enough for Hyrule to finally show up, butt ass naked and munching on a blackberry the size of his head. Covered in berry juice and small brown burrs from head to toe.

It took longer still for Time, adorned in an especially impressive leaf and a leather strap belt, to negotiate their return to normal. And even longer for Four, Wild and Wind (still trapped in the god-damned one holed sock) to coax Sky (naked as the day he was born) out of the boot he'd taken refuge in so he could be turned back to normal.

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, Hyrule elected to stay as he was for the night. Somehow managing to put away a full bowl of sweet (you side-eyed the chain with a mischievious grin) broth and half a slice of bread. How, you don't know, but it was fascinating to watch nonetheless.

All in all, it was a good night and it ended with only a few red faces and plenty of laughs. Even if you had to scrub the dirt from your pant legs the next morning.

Now you just had to keep Hyrule out of your stash.

The gluttonous little bastard.

---

Short and sweet. Now back to the shadows to rest.