#Pudding (same as prev)

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader I| Chapter: 05 ୨୧

Prev || 05 Un? Fortunate || Next

⎯ "Just because you're a part of the student council doesn't mean you're allowed to get all cozy with Asano."  [Name] was sort of familiar with the student, a member of the fan club dedicated to the chairman's son, Asano Gakushu. 'It's way too early for this.' 

They'd never talked, but that didn't mean she hadn't had this same conversation with other people. It was as if his fan club had a precedent of hating [Name] before admitting members.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, but I can assure you there's nothing going on between-" The girl kept walking, harshly brushing her shoulder on [Name] in the process. She could barely get a word in.

It really wasn't like that. There was no reason for anyone to believe so, sure, she wasn't exactly out in the open about it but she was in a relationship. She isn't the type to mess with other guys behind Karma's back. She guessed it was the result of being the only girl on the council. They overanalyzed her every little step.

"If you want to be in the same class so badly just start failing until they throw you down with me."  Those were Karma's words from a few days ago, and [Name] was starting to consider them.

She couldn't decide if it was worth it or not. She was on top of her academics and as annoying as they were, spending so much time around the council meant the members grew on her.

'I need  something to drink...'

Out where the vending machines were she saw a familiar face, his blue hair tied up in pigtails. It had been so long since [Name] talked to Nagisa. As she was about to say hi, she noticed the green-haired girl who had been with him at the café. Her name was Kayano if she remembered correctly.

She didn't want to be rude and interrupt, that was the excuse she was going with. In full honesty, she was curious as to what Nagisa was doing with a girl, listening in for a bit wouldn't hurt.

"Explosives, guns, knives. I'm starting to doubt it's even possible to kill him." They were hovered over a notebook as if they were trying to solve a thousand-piece puzzle.

Some kind of game? That's what [Name] was wondering.

"but your notes are great, it's cool you're so observant Nagisa... what were we here for again?"

"Karma's strawberry milk."

"Yeah... He's a bit addicted don't you think?"

"Not as bad as your pudding thing... uh, hold on."

With instincts like Nagisas, he picked up on an uncounted-for presence. He shot Kayano a look, instructing her to quiet down with his eyes.

"[Name?]"

"Hey Nagisa! Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you were busy."

"It's okay, How have you been?" He smiled warmly, internally he was praying you didn't hear anything strange.

"I'm good! I've missed you a lot, we haven't talked in forever!"

"We should hang out one of these days! Oh, I should introduce you, Kayano this is [Name], [Name] Kayano." He gestures between the both girls.

"Nice to meet you." Kayano shakes her hand.

"Why are there two types of strawberry milk here? Kayano, do you remember which one he gets?" asks Nagisa.

"No, just take a guess."

[Name] types on the vending machine's number pad. "He likes both but prefers this one, They taste the same to me though." She shrugs and almost hands the milk box to Nagisa, but she pulls back out of his reach at the last second.

"Can I go with you? I'll drop you off at your class!"

Nagisa smiles "That would be fun but you have your own class to get to."

"It's fine! I usually worried about skipping but only for a little won't hurt."

Nagisa is hesitant when he says "You'll face harsher consequences since you're in council." He didn't want her to feel rejected but if they walked together there was a pretty good chance she'd catch sight of Korosensei.

"The opposite actually, I get away with way more by being in council. It works out! Let's go I wanna see Karma."

Kayano yanks the milk from [Names] grasp. It's very abrupt and leaves an uncomfortable feeling in everyone. [Name] feels embarrassed, she's internally hoping they can't see it on her face. The feel becomes uncomfortable for a second, Kayano looks down not meeting [Names] eyes.

In an attempt to fix things [Name] apologizes, "Sorry, I get the hint, see you Nagisa." She smiles trying not to let things get more uncomfortable for anyone. They probably want to be alone.

"It's not like that! We'd like you to come but we'd get in a lot of trouble if anyone saw you with us, over the weekend we should meet up."

"Alright, we can do that." They wave goodbye to each other.

⊹₊ ⋆ Time skip ୨୧ ⊹₊ ⋆

"If you want to be in the same class so badly just start failing until they throw you down with me."

[Name] and Karma were lying on his bedroom's wooden floor, staring up at the ceiling as they talked about whatever topic bubbled up on their minds.

"Hey Karma, do you really think I should drop down to E class?"

He looks at her curiously "What's got you thinking of that?"

"I was thinking of what you said the other day, maybe that is the only way we can be together."

"You don't have to sacrifice your grades for a few more hours with me, clinger."

"I wasn't gonna, it would take too long to get me to fail everything! Remind me why they decided to put you in that class again?"

"I broke a guy's arm." He says with not a second thought.

[Name] sighs "I can't do that..."

"I could do it for you, and you can take allll the credit. I got ways to make 'em play along!" If it were anyone else talking about this with so much excitement [Name] would question their mental state, but it's Karma.

"That's not what I meant... but thanks for having my back!"

Karma is not sure about this, He knows [Names] fears and she's got lots of them. Spiders, thunder, heights, and much more, He questions if her heart could handle seeing a three-meter-tall octopus who might be the reason the world ends. Ultimately Karma decides to indulge in it, it would be nice having her around, on top of that she'd get along with his friends and definitely like the teachers more.

He thinks back to all the other stuff he pulled, none of which worked out but trying again wouldn't hurt, at least not him.

"You can try pulling pranks but it wasn't that effective for me."

"Help me think of something?"

"I wouldn't let you do it without me."

For now there was nothing to worry about. No one to distract them from one another, just the two of them.

note: sorry for still taking so long on request :,( I’m trying to balance the post of request and On Purpose, Ive also been reallll busy. Does anyone actuallyyyyy read this fic?? the updates are kinda just setting everything up rn, more Karma soon!

[bleumanouchesims]

1893-Spring

It seemed that Devla listened to them and blessed them again. Several trips to the so called Flemish Cap had seen Toulouse return with 500 dollars in his pockets, more money than he had ever seen let alone held in his entire life.

"Rosie, ma foi, look look!"

His wife turned and looked at all the notes in his hand. For a moment she was afraid, for she had been told to have this much money at once was a curse. But then again, that was back in France. America had proven to be more kinder to them than France had ever been, though she still got dirty looks and was constantly watched whenever she went to the market.

In the corner of the cabin, Abeille was singing to herself. She had grown so much and was now 2 years old. She could speak French as well as English, though French came more naturally to her. She had grown so big her parents where in constant amazement. Their discussion made no sense to the baby, she just wanted to feel included.

"Ma foi, I'm sorry but I cannot take this to the bank."

"Why not? Surely we could have enough to start an account. In America, it is good to save our monies. What if something where to happen to you while on the ship? How would Abeille and I..?

"Do not speak of such things Rosalie. There are still beng in America and they listen." They both crossed themselves and said a small prayer before continuing. Toulouse does not wish to tell his wife that he has gone to the bank to try and open an account but was turned away. He was told that "Gypsies don't earn money in any honest way." then they took the 50 dollars he had and wouldn't give it back. Claimed it was stolen. He wanted to strangle the banker through the bars. Every cent he had in America was earned with his own sweat and toil. How dare the parno gadjo with a face like pudding tell him that he had swindled and stolen from his employer.

Toulouse's hand clenches for an instant in the memory, before softening again.

"Rosie, I tried. But gadje are the same everywhere. Especially the ones that hold the money. Do not worry, I shall put this in a milk jug, and soon we shall have several buckets full of money. I was thinking we could use that money to build a second story to the cabin. It just seemed so big when we first arrived and now with Petit Abeille.."

The toddler perked up at the sound of her name. She toddled to her father and indicated she wanted to be held. He, of course, obliged giving her a little nuzzle against her nose before continuing.

"... with our baby now growing so big. We will need more room for her and hopefully, her siblings. Should Devla bless us with more."

Rosalie laughed. "A second story? A rom would laugh at his wife and daughter walking over his head, polluting him."

"That may be so, ma foi. But we cannot expand outwords. Only up. Surely we would have to do certain marime things now that we are in America. It's not as bad as having a ghost or inviting beng into our home." He says confidently.

Rosalie nods. He is right. They had to sacrifice some traditions since arriving in America. Maybe if the house were bigger, it would confuse the bengs and ghosts. Then they were more likely to leave their home, for surely gypsies don't live in a two story house.

***

Come summer, they finally had squirreled enough away to purchase some lumber and supplies. By fall, they had finished...

It was amazing, almost magical. The small two room hunting cabin now had 4 rooms! Four rooms just in time as well, for they found that they were going to be blessed again.

Rosalie was pregnant a second time.

Prev / Next

Yay! New Pelletier chapter! The cabin build was original to @antiquatedplumbobs' Brindleton save. However, I felt the need to slightly modify it for the Pelletier's growing prosperity and family. If they weren't trying to assimilate and there was enough space, the Pelletiers would have built out instead of up.

As explained before (I think), everything below the waist is considered culturally polluted, or marime, but especially the genitals and women's genitalia at that (because of periods). Everything above the waist, except for the hands but especially the head and mouth, is wuzho or culturally pure. The problem of a second story is one's bottom parts with be overtop someone's head, thus polluting them. However this has mostly been abandoned in modern times, but if they can help it, romani people usually live in either one floor houses or on the top floors of apartments.

As for the money issue, this happened a lot with romani people because they were thought to steal money, so a lot of banks would not work with them. Even now, most of us do not rely on banks but hide our money in drawers and tins or wear it on our person (the coin belts and necklaces that are associated with our dress are a part of this).

A scrapped idea I had for this chapter was Toulouse being sent to the Chicago world's fair! However once I saw that Rosalie was pregnant again through MCCC I decided against it. Then I learned that afterwards some of the innovations toured around on regular circus and county fair circuits I had an idea for a future entry.

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟥.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

prev.

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee, @scaranaris-lil-niko !! ignore me saying yes and refusing him lmao i was being silly

“No.” You took his hand readily and let him pull you to your feet. “It doesn’t.”

If the air around you had been a little less foggy, you would’ve been certain in the way his gaze softened, eyes turning to a liquid gold that shimmered in the rippling movement, like light reflecting on the water. “I see.” Even his voice was beautiful, slightly raspy and with a growl in his words, like a symphony made just for you. “Then it should make this easier.”  His sculpted arms dug into your sides as he leaned into you, each finger grasping your skin tightly, a hold that would most certainly leave dappled bruises on your skin. He opened his mouth, and his words flowed thick like honey. “I’ll explain when it’s over.” 

Something pierced your neck, two fangs sinking into your flesh, and then threading veins of warmth spread like wildfire across your skin. His fingers grazed against your nape, brushing any stray strands away. Not a drop escaped past his bared fangs, despite the red that began to stain his lips. Swirling, your mind had gone white, and you couldn't even formulate a single coherent thought, only letting a soft gasp escape. You would melt at the slightest touch, you were sure of it. 

He pulled away, lips streaked with crimson, and let out a quiet sigh as he brushed his hair back with his fingers. “Shit, no wonder why Venti went feral. Archons,” His voice dipped to a lower note, a whisper. “Why do you taste so…?”

Venti, who had been standing to the side, glanced up with an unpleasant expression. “Ah, what a hypocrite. Reprimanding me with such vigor only to go and do the same thing yourself, how unfair is that?”

“I did it for a reason, bloodthirsty bastard. You just go and bite anything that breathes.” Xiao scoffed, exasperated. He glanced at where you were, visibly panting heavily as your quickened breaths turned white in the air. “My apologies.”

“What… W-What the fuck?” You pressed a hand to your neck and felt blood dripping past your fingers, and you drew them back with a flinch. They were tainted in a red that trailed down your wrist. You had to force the words out amidst your heavy breaths. “You… You said…!” 

“As I said, my apologies. This was the only way to protect you. A mortal cannot go unguarded in these realms.” He looked regretful, he really did, but his eyes were not one of a human’s, and his rich voice was one that had persisted for centuries. The diamond pupils you had adored so much in the seconds before now seemed unnatural, like a predator's, and that made you his prey. “In time, you’ll understand.” He placed his gloved hand in yours, yet you felt no warmth radiate past the cloth. “Please, let’s head back to the manor before they find us.”

Another mystery to unravel. “They?”

Xiao shook his head, his black hair illuminated by the moonlight. His hushed words came out quickly. “You’ve traveled into the wrong territory. I’ve risked enough retrieving you, and if we stay too long they might-”

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” There was a laugh, a chilling one. Xiao instantaneously glanced up, expression cold as a curse slipped past his lips. He swerved to the right to avoid a blade thrown past his head, where it embedded into the tree trunk meters behind, the wood shrieking as it bent into two.

“Stay out of matters that don’t concern you!” Xiao shouted, but you could read the signs of uneasiness in his stance. How many lay in wait in the shadows? If you ran now, would you be able to… There was a final snap as loud as thunder, and then the great tree fell to the ground, completely uprooted. Venti giggled childishly like he was excited at the predicament.

Your hands shook. No way in hell. At least in Inazuma, you could do something against the perpetrator, but here. They were on a level of their own, and they had surpassed the limits that the gods had set for them.

“A rat who has snuck its way onto our land is squeaking. Ah, my ears hurt.” The same voice from before, but this time it was paired with a figure walking out from behind you, causing you to spin on your feet. A glimpse of indigo hair, fluttering garments, dark violet eyes that made him seem more dead than alive. Sharp horns that sprouted from his head and twisted towards the sky, and a whip-like tail that whipped with every word. He brought a hand up to his mouth, his slender fingers curling cruelly as he barked out a laugh. “Ha! It’s as if you wish to die.” His voice was sharp, not cold, but distant, as if he wasn’t fully there. The sneer in his tone made it all too clear that he was getting a kick out of this, even if the spreading smirk on his face didn’t make it obvious enough.

“Now, now,” a new voice had entered the fray, and it was lilting, almost hypnotic. “Wanderer, you can’t be thinking of killing them now, are you?” Red hair. Red hair? Dark horns that curled above his ears, and a sender tail that bent like a question mark. Green eyes that sparkled even though the night had been coated in black paint a thousand strokes over. The boyish grin plastered on his face made his cheeriness prominent. “Show a little courtesy, won’t you? Even if his majesty isn't here, it still seems we have a guest.” His gaze flicked towards you, and lingered a moment too long. “You aren’t planning to keep them to yourself, are you? It’s been a long, long while since we’ve ever had any sort of entertainment around here~”

“Venti.”

One word was all he spoke, but in a split second Venti appeared by your side, taking you into his arms as he held you bridal-style, his touch much less invasive than before. The way he held you so effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing, and how his every step was so gentle against the earth, like the wind itself was carrying him forward, felt like it was second nature to him. You blinked up at Venti with round, surprised eyes, mouth slightly ajar as your heartbeat raced against your mind.

“Ah, poor thing, they’re shaking like a leaf!” Venti sighed, pouting playfully. ”And come to think of it, I’ve forgotten to ask for your name… for now, please say the word, ‘transfer’ so we can teleport to the manor! I only have enough magical power for the two of us, y’know~”

“Venti, don’t you dare…!” The angry one had stepped forward, teeth clenched and tail lashing behind him, its point razor sharp. Something about his growly voice made your own die in your throat. His brows furrowed as his eyes darkened his expression into a threatening glare. “Don’t even think about it, or I’ll make sure this will be the last time you see him.” His eyes directed towards Xiao, who was watching the two of them with a scowl. 

“Go.” His gilded eyes glinted, and something burning settled into your soul.

Wanderer let out an abrupt laugh, seemingly startling even himself as his frame shook to his twisted amusement. “Two against one, do you really think you’ll win? I heard you’ve been staving off of human blood for a while now too, don’t tell me you actually are holding onto your foolish principles!”

Your vision blurred. Your mouth felt dry, like you hadn’t spoken in centuries, and every intake of air was painful. You could feel Venti’s expectant gaze staring down at you, yet your heart wavered. ‘Transfer’… if I say that, I’ll go back. But Xiao, and these others… what…what will happen to him? Fuck, will he…die…?

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

[nguyetmunff]

Hiii do you have any hc for levis rosequartz? Please and thank you :3-MFK

oh boy not another character we don’t have much on 🥲 jk I actually didn’t think much of him at first but this twitter artist really made me fall in love with the Rosequartz twins despite them not having much screen time (also a fan of Lovie/Charles because good god that person is phenomenal at drawing). Everyone should totally stop reading this and go look up tetota_tettou on twitter (they don’t do mashle art anymore unfortunately but their past fancomics are worth a million read 🥹🥹)

Levis will be the next bureau chief to replace his dad after graduating as a formal “handover to the next generation” since citizens lost trust in the prev administration after innozero

he’d poach wirth from another department from time to time to help him out with the paperwork

whichever school Lovie choose to go to after he gets better will be under ungodly scrutiny but if they pass the inspection there’ll be an unfathomable amt of grant money pouring in, especially for the gardening club

he’d be the go-to meeting spot for the former walkis group

his favorite food is beef steak, which relies on the quality of beef so he might be a beef connoisseur to match with the bonbon rich boy image

his hobby is making connections so I can imagine him picking a nice spot in an expensive cafe on the third floor of the student promenade and people watch who to scam next while enjoying some stupidly expensive steak

many attempts were made to subtly undermin Domina’s authority in walkis (better grades, friends, connections,…) but to Domina such things are useless so he ignored it. Levis was mad for days because the things he always used to lord over others have no effects on Domina

sometimes he would shove both charles and lance together on the same mission and watch the chaos he helped caused

since he once laughed at kenny’s bad puns I headcanon he love to be surprised by the unexpected. One time Orter would say “my younger brother and I are getting along well these days” and Levis would die laughing before someone pointed out that no, Orter wasn’t making a self-deprecating joke

Hecatrice will have a pudding ban backed by the gravity cane effective the moment Levis become bureau chief. One of the inmate might be plotting rebellion soon

[nowoyas]

Boiling Point 4: Finale - Miguel O'Hara x Reader (NSFW)

First - Prev - M.list - Ao3

A/N: by the power of banana pudding rum we got there. thanks for waiting and please enjoy!

Summary: We reach the part where you get what you want.

Notes: smut. this is the part with actual sex for real. uh biting mentions, blood drawn, etc.

Word Count: 2800

None of this has exactly been how you expected this night to go.

At any turn, you were expecting something else. Not eating sandwiches atop the Empire State building and sipping fountain drinks while you floated, quite frankly thinking you were out of your damn mind and dreaming some truly deranged shit, as Miguel acted exactly like normal in response to having discovered that your sex drive is basically controlled by whether or not he breathes in the same room as you on a given day.

By the time you've nearly finished your drink and near pulling off the lid to crunch the ice, mostly to have something to do with your mouth other than fuck up, Miguel lets out a heavy sigh.

Honestly, you're still stuck on the part where he knows. Clearly he's somewhere miles past you, speaking frankly, as though this is a normal conversation to be having. Just a Spiderman and the Spider belonging to this version of New York, far above the ground. You stare at the stars while he stares at the streets below.

"Are you understanding anything I've said to you? I'm starting to think you're not."

The ice cube cracks in your teeth. You spit it back into your cup to respond. "It's more like I think I'm being punked right now."

"Punked?" he repeats back. You wonder if that's because that's not a thing in Nueva York, or if it's because the idea is so stupid that he can't believe you've put it into the world in the first place. (It is, in fact, a little bit of both.)

You double down, because that is your best quality. "Yeah. Like, tricked? Pranked? You're sitting here having taken me out for chicken sandwiches in response to—hell, I don't think I can make myself say it out loud, but anyways you are Miguel O'Hara and it takes all the work in the world to not think of you by your full name every time because you're just that fucking amazing."

He lets you go on, watches you as you watch the stars. You pause to crunch another ice cube before continuing. "Like, I'm not sorry for thinking you're the hottest thing to walk any Earth. I am sorry you found out, because I can see how that would be uncomfortable to discover, but like. You are hot. I could go into excruciating detail, if you'd like, but I think that's a bit too much, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to be, like, normal?"

"You're not any less normal than anyone else we’ve brought into the multiverse," he says. "I am now completely convinced that you haven't been listening to anything I've said, though."

“I haven’t… not been listening?”

“Okay. Then, what have I been telling you?”

You thoughtfully crunch another ice cube.

“…shit.”

He sighs. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. I was hoping you would figure out you were being an idiot before you sent yourself spiraling directly into sub drop, but that clearly didn’t happen. As fun as it’s been watching you drive yourself insane, this isn’t how I wanted to see you fall apart.”

“…okay.” He’s watching your every movement, and you, in turn, are trying to control each one, down to whatever microexpressions you can. Part of you wants to cry from the embarrassment of it all. But dammit, you are not sitting at the top of this building to cry for once. “So… how did you want to see me fall apart?”

“I can show you.”

Please hold. Buffering.

“Okay!” It comes out a squeak, but this is not a man who has the time to let you cringe, apparently, because you’re suddenly being bodily lifted from your perch, your trash nearly forgotten except your quick thinking to web it to you. Responsible superheroes don’t leave their trash on skyscrapers.

“Limits?” he says as he carries you, so easily for a man only using one hand.

“What?”

“What are your limits? Dirty talk, biting…”

Oh. Your face flares hot. I think you’re finally starting to get it. Good for you. “Um. I don’t… like… assplay?”

He nods, not even looking down at you. That’s fair. He’s a little occupied with the web-swinging right now. Actually, it’s kind of fun to be carried like this, rather than being the one doing all the work. You should find some way to con him into carrying you around like this again sometime.

“I can work with that. Anything else?”

“Um… normally I like degradation, but maybe not right now?”

“Makes sense. Safeword?”

You’ve suddenly forgotten every semblance of a safeword you’ve ever known. Good going. 10/10.

“Pumpkin,” you blurt.

“Pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin.”

“You didn’t just make that up on the spot, did you?”

“Not that you can prove.”

He lets out a soft huff, more felt than heard, and lands on the roof of your building. “Not sure I want your neighbor listening in.”

Ah. Yeah. That… huh.

(You are so fucking eloquent.)

You flash a grin. “Yeah, uh, I think he’s been doing that for a while. I might move, actually. When I can afford it. Do you think this is… better?”

He sighs. “No. But I need a moment.”

“Oh, okay, I can—“

His lips crash down on yours, and fuck it, this clearly isn’t real, so of course you’re going to moan against his lips and kiss him right back. He’s so much bigger than you—all muscles and hard lines and, when he pulls back and you open your eyes, deep red eyes and sharp teeth.

He must like something he sees in the way his eyes roam over you, because he groans and drops his head a bit. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to not think about taking you like this?”

“Like what?” You do your best to sound innocent. It does something, a fact you’re proud to state you know from the way his clawed fingertips suddenly flex into your flesh.

…he is going to completely destroy you.

You, for one, are fully prepared for that outcome.

…probably.

Making out on the rooftop becomes making out in your bedroom becomes Miguel getting you out of your Spider suit in record time. (Maybe you’ll ask him for pointers after this, all things considered.) At least you’re not the only one getting surprised today—when he gets your top half bare and finds your tits bouncing free, not a bra in sight, there’s a growl passing his lips that leaves you shuddering.

“No bra?” His hand hovers over your breasts, as though waiting for permission.

You press your chest forward, right into his waiting hands. “Built into the suit.”

“That’s… dangerous.” His eyes are dark as they fixate on you, on the way your soft curves squish in his hands. “Have you ever worn a bra under the suit?”

You laugh, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No, sir, I haven’t. You find me a stretchy spandex that doesn’t show every line underneath and then we’ll talk about bras and underwear.”

Without another word, he grabs at the rest of the suit bunched around your waist and yanks down. You yelp as you move with the suit, as you go from “superhero” to “ass-naked” in one fell swoop. That’s just unfair.

Dark eyes search your face, just a moment, just long enough for him to take in wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever he’s looking for, clearly it satisfies him, because his next step is to jerk your hips up and hook your legs over his shoulders.

“So why don’t you tell me a bit about why you thought a contract like that was a good idea?”

You refuse to meet his eyes. Large hands dig into the flesh of your thighs—not painful, not enough to bruise, but enough that you feel the tiniest pricks of his claws threatening to press in.

“Come on, cariño. I wasn’t asking.”

You throw your arms over your face, hide your eyes so you don’t have to look at him when you admit it. “…I kept overheating the motors in my vibrators.”

He startles you with a real, genuine laugh. “Really.”

“Yes!” You jerk to try to face him, which leaves you in a weird half-crunch position. “You’re… a lot, okay? And I’m not, like, constantly constantly thinking about sex, with you or anyone else, but you do shit that gets me started and then I can’t stop and—“

“There you go,” he purrs. “That’s a good girl.”

Your rambling cuts off into a low moan as he buries his face between your thighs at last. His tongue enters your core, his fingers toy with your clit, and he works you up just to the point that you actually contemplate murder when he pulls away.

“Miguel, I can’t keep doing this,” you whine, tears already springing to your eyes in response to yet another denial.

He shushes you, gentle. You do not want gentle.

If we’re being completely honest, if this man does not break you tonight, your body is going to completely atomize itself on the spot.

“Please,” you whine.

He quirks a brow you-ways. Tilts his head. “What are you asking me for?”

“Anything. Need to cum. Please.”

A soft laugh. “You need it?”

“Need it.”

His fingers brush against your core, and you whine out.

“Okay.”

You nearly cry—first at the feeling of his fingers entering you, the promise that this is finally over, you’re finally done breaking toys and breaking yourself just to do something right, now someone else gets to break you—then at how expertly he manages to bring you back to the brim with two thick fingers pumping into your heat.

“There you go. You’re doing so well. So, so well, cariño.”

You smile through your moans, meet his blazing eyes as he works your walls and your clit. You cum hard and fast, writhing around him until he has to put a firm hand down on your stomach to keep you still, and this time, you do cry—from release, from overstimulation, from the fact that you got here and you did it and you did so well.

He doesn’t stop when you stop to catch your breath. The swift removal of his fingers is replaced once again by his mouth, and you cry as he laps up the fluttering remains of your first orgasm in so, so long. A jerk of your hips from the contact has just the barest brush of his fangs teasing against your pussy, just enough to remind you that they’re there and you’re finally, finally getting what you need.

“miguel,” you breathe out in lowercase.

He groans against you, grips your thighs again, and this time he does leave thin red lines behind as he loses himself in your pussy.

The second time you cum, you haven’t quite stopped with the tears from the first. It’s almost everything you’ve dreamed of. You’ve dreamed of some weird shit, though, so basically it’s everything worth dreaming of.

And again he barely stops. He pulls away, yes, when your walls stop spasming around his tongue and your whining drops to low keens, and he repositions himself to fondle your flesh, to smooth a large hand over the plush of your tits and thumb lazily at a single nipple, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his lips. But he isn’t done, and he makes quite clear he isn’t done quite quickly.

Lips trail from yours to your neck, and when you reach down in hopes of finding the truth of his cock, he grabs your wrist and nips at your throat.

You do not bother trying to repress the shudder as his teeth graze you.

He sighs, nearly laughs. “You’re seriously turned on by these?” he asks, pulling away to look you in the eye.

“M-mhm. All of you.” Oh dear. You didn’t think you could get stupider, but somewhere between edges, you must have found a shovel and started digging. Poor you. “But I really like teeth. Used to be so into vampires. Werewolves. Anything with big teeth that could wreck me.” Okay, that’s enough. You can stop talking now.

Oh, thank fuck, he took his turn in the conversation. That was getting bad. “Guess you’re lucky, then.”

“So lucky.” You nod.

Another graze of his teeth, and then again he pulls away. Bastard. Like you haven’t been edged enough these past few weeks, through no fault or decision of your own. “You know I can’t bite you, right? Paralytic venom?”

“Like I can move after what you just did to me anyway?”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll think about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

“I can tell.” He leaves you there on the bed, a bit limp from the double orgasm action, and removes his own suit, slow and careful. “Lucky for you, I wasn’t done yet. That was just the prep work.”

“Prep?”

Ah. He’s big. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Maybe you should have trained for this. He climbs right back on top of you, cock weighty where it rests on your stomach, and kisses you slowly. Almost loving, if you hadn’t known any better.

When he presses into you, it’s a stretch, big and sore and dragging out yet another whine from you. He shushes you gently, like this is something you’re supposed to be able to just push through, but he does and you do and when he bottoms out you’re honestly surprised he fits.

“There you go. There’s a good girl. Still doing good?”

No one here is completely sure whether you’re whimpering because his cock is finally inside of you or because of the pet name, but we’ll just say it was overstimulation and call it a day. You manage a nod, which has him arching his brow and holding very carefully still.

“I need a verbal answer, [name].”

“Still… still doing good. You’re good.”

“Okay.”

One slow, careful thrust turns into two turns into three turns into another, and you have to cling to him and claw just to find some sort of purchase before very long at all. By the time you’ve lost count, it’s more because you’ve lost your mind than anything. The overstim-sore gives way to a delicious stretch, and you’re sure you’re babbling something, though you’re pretty sure it’s just his name. That’s all that’s in your head, anyway.

What you know is this: his grip and his pace become bruising, at your enthusiastic pleading, and he fucks you until you don’t remember whether you came once or twice or stopped until he was done. You know that he pulls out, that he cums across your stomach in thick ropes. You know that he cleans you with a warm, damp cloth, tends carefully to the cuts on your thighs where his claws dug just a touch too deep. When you can sit up, you blearily take the kit from him and dab at the bits on his back where you managed to draw blood. Marks of your own left on his skin.

“You did good. Better than I was expecting, honestly.”

“You’re rude,” you shoot back with a sleepy-sounding laugh. “And big. And good.”

You’re not sure the etiquette here. In the light of no longer being mid-fuck, you cringe at the dance that socialization inevitably becomes. He’ll go back to his universe, and leave you here, and probably send Lyla to let you know of new assignments, but what do you do now except begrudgingly accept the chocolate he shoves in your mouth and make sure the cuts on his back are disinfected?

“Sorry about your thighs. That’ll sting for a while,” he says as you’re busily trying to memorize the muscles on his back.

“I’ll be fine. Quick healing and all that. Um…”

“I’ll do some work to figure out the venom thing, if you were serious about wanting me to bite you.”

“Of course I’m serious!” You squeak. “Your damned fangs were at least two of my casualties that started this whole thing!”

“Casualties?”

You fluster, turn away. “Yeah. Casualties.” A brief pause where it sinks in. “Wait. So you want to… do this again…?”

“Was that not clear? You’re a bright spot in the multiverse. If you’d just stop throwing yourself into stupid shit…”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m already perfect.”

“You are. I’m still not biting you without being absolutely sure I won’t kill you in the process.”

“Aw, that’s half the fun!”

He gives you a sharp look, and you cringe.

“Right. Yeah, I get it. Feel free to surprise me when you figure it out, though.”

He pulls you into his arms, and in his warmth you feel yourself finally relax a little bit.

“I think I’ll take you up on that one.”

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe @ambientcryptidsounds @roxannarichie @vegas-writing-den @cooch1ecruncher @bluepeanutharmony @instanttragedyfire @thesilenthill @topreice @rhae-blackqueen

If you'd like to be tagged, shoot me a message or an ask, or ask here in the replies, tags, or reblogs and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (all works, all works specific to a character, all smut works, etc.). If your name appears on this list but is not underlined and you didn't get a notification, please check to make sure that your blog is NOT set to not appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got that set that way for a particular reason, consider subscribing to the fic on ao3 for an equivalent update notification, as I always crosspost simultaneously! After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the list.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

[pardi-real]

Honeymoon Knight / Chapter 11 - If I Were to Keep a Pet

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~ After a while ~

Hanamaru: "Phew… The discussion about marriage turned out to be livelier than I expected."

> “Thank you for sharing” > "Listening to it was enjoyable"

Teddy: "Hehe… I'm glad you enjoyed it, my lord!"

Yuhan: "Well then... It's about time for the lord to be getting hungry, isn't it?"

> "That's true"

*Stomach growls*

Muu: “E-excuse me... I'm getting hungry…"

Yuhan: "Oh dear… Looks like Muu's hungry too."

Hanamaru: "It's almost lunch time. Should we grab a meal?"

> "Let's do that"

Teddy: "Leave it to me, I've researched the nearby places in advance! There's apparently a stylish café nearby. Shall we go there?"

Hanamaru: "As expected, Teddy, you're reliable~."

Yuhan: "Thank you, Mr. Teddy."

Teddy: "Alright then, my lord. This way!"

> "Thank you"

And so, we headed to a nearby café. We sat around the same table at the café.

~ After a while ~

Teddy: "The coffee and pudding here are so tasty..."

Hanamaru: “The green tea is great too. And this ice cream here."

Yuhan: "My lord, are you really okay with this? Us sitting together like this..."

> "I'm happy about it" > “Don’t mind it today”

Yuhan: "Is that so? However..."

Hanamaru: "Don't worry too much, Yuhan. If the lord says it's okay, then it's fine. More importantly, we should eat soon… The iced matcha latte will get warm, you see?"

> "That's right, Yuhan"

Yuhan: "Understood. Since it's such an opportunity... I should enjoy it. I'll make sure we have a good time."

> "Please do"

~ A few minutes later ~

Muu: "Wow... This shop has matcha drinks!"

Yuhan: "Yes, they're very delicious. As summer approaches, and the weather gets warmer... Drinking cold matcha outdoors has a certain charm.”

Muu: “Hehe… Indeed, cold drinks in hot weather are truly delicious!"

> "That's true"

Hanamaru: "For real, it just hits differently. Muu, be careful not to chill your stomach by drinking too much, okay?"

Muu: "Ahh! There was a cute white cat over there!"

Hanamaru: "Ah… he ain't listening at all."

> "I'll let him know later"

Hanamaru: "Thanks. You're really kind, my lord."

Muu: "Ah... The white cat seems to have gone somewhere…"

Teddy: "Maybe it ran away because someone with a dog is approaching?"

Following Teddy's gaze, we see a newlywed-like couple walking their dog.

Yuhan: "Hmm, come to think of it… in the central lands as well, there's a culture of keeping dogs as pets."

Teddy: "In Espoir too, sometimes you can see families with dogs. Hehe… Dogs are wonderful, aren't they?"

> "Teddy, do you like dogs?"

Teddy: "Yes, I do!"

Muu: "Oh~! So you and Mr. Haures have similar tastes!"

Teddy: "Huh, really!? Having similar preferences with Mr. Haures which I admired... I feel somewhat happy."

Hanamaru: "Teddy really looks up to Haures, huh?"

Teddy: "Yes, Mr. Haures is my goal. Oops- sorry, the conversation got off track."

Hanamaru: "Just maybe, Teddy. If you get married, would you want to have a dog?"

Teddy: "Uhm, if I have to say... Right, I might want to have a dog. Adopt a puppy and raise it together with my partner… I want to take them to a meadow and play with them.”

Muu: “Fufu, that sounds really fun! Speaking of which… how about you, Mr. Yuhan and Mr. Hanamaru? If you get married… What pet would you have?”

> “The pet they'd have, huh…”

Yuhan: “Hmm… well… if I were to keep a pet… perhaps, a bird.”

Hanamaru: “Ooh… is that so?”

Yuhan: “When I was little, I took care of an injured bird and kept it for a while.”

> “So that happened”

Yuhan: “Yes. That was a good memory.  It had its challenges, like getting pecked at and the bird being reluctant to eat... But those hardships, it might bring joy when shared with a partner.”

Hanamaru: “Hm, hm... So you belong to the ‘if I were to keep a pet, it would be a bird' faction, Yuhan.”

> “How about you, Hanamaru?”

Hanamaru: “Hm, me? If I have to say… It would be a cat. Because cats... seem like they'd be good for lazing around together, right?"

Teddy: "I-I see..."

> "That's very Hanamaru-like reasoning"

Yuhan: "Really, it's unbelievable... Are you planning to laze around even after getting married?"

Hanamaru: "It's not a big deal, this is all just a fantasy anyway. Besides, if I were to get married for real... my partner would probably... like that about me, right?"

Teddy: "Th-that's quite the confidence, isn't it?"

Hanamaru: "Heh... Anyway, it's nice to have these kinds of conversations once in a while. Well, that being said... Right now, my lord is more important... more than a theoretical marriage-partner-to-be. Honestly… I have no interest in anyone but you, my lord.”

> "Uh, um..."

Hanamaru: “Caught off guard, ain't cha, my lord~? Your face is all red~."

Teddy: "Wait, Mr. Hanamaru. Please don't trouble the lord. And making advances is not allowed."

> "Teddy...?"

Teddy: "I also value the lord a lot. Of course, these feelings won't lose to anyone"

Yuhan: "Oh my, that's not something to ignore. I also care deeply for the lord."

> "Even Yuhan..."

Hanamaru: "Oops... Both of you, well said, huh... But don't worry, you two. I'll make sure to make the lord happy. As proof... Here, my lord, hold out your hand for a moment."

> "Huh...? Uh, okay"

As I extended my hand… Hanamaru started whistling.

Hanamaru: "Phwee… phwee…."

???: "Chirp, chirp!"

> "Huh?"

In response to the whistle, a blue bird flew out of the tree and landed on my hand.

Muu: "Wow, a cute blue bird!"

Hanamaru: "Hehe... Impressive, isn't it? It's a whistle that calls the bird of happiness. With this, there's no doubt that good fortune will come to you, my lord."

> "That's amazing, Hanamaru”

Chirp, chirp! The little bird chirped softly and then flew away.

Muu: "Ah, it's gone. I believe blue birds are symbols of good luck, right?"

Teddy: "Yes, that's right!"

Yuhan: "Mr. Hanamaru...! Please call the blue bird again."

Hanamaru: "Huh? Call it again?"

Yuhan: "The whistle can call a blue bird, right? Please, call it again. If possible... let it land on my hand this time..."

Teddy: "Mr. Yuhan… Your eyes seem brighter than usual?"

> "What's going on, Yuhan?"

Yuhan: "Um, well... My apologies. I was a little too excited."

Teddy: "Do you like blue birds?"

Yuhan: "Yes. When I was a child, I wanted to have a blue bird at least once. However, blue birds are rare and hard to come by... So I gave up."

Hanamaru: "I-I see… Well… To reveal the trick, this whistle doesn't really call a blue bird... Any small bird will respond, you know?"

Yuhan: "Oh? Is that so..."

Hanamaru: "I happened to see a blue bird in the tree earlier, so I whistled, and the blue bird kindly responded."

Yuhan: "I see... That's too bad."

Hanamaru: "Well, don't be so down, Yuhan.  Oh, right...! Next time, shall I teach you how to whistle? Birds seem to like it, you know?"

Yuhan: "Sigh... If you can stop that triumphant look, I'll consider it."

Hanamaru: "Haa... you're being dishonest~ Yuhan."

Muu: "Mr. Hanamaru! Teach me how to whistle too!"

Teddy: "I want to learn too!"

Hanamaru: "Oh, oh, sure."

> "Can I join too?"

Hanamaru: "Geez... Master Hanamaru sure is popular today."

Prev | All | Next

[koris-crumbs]

I’m Here For The Entertainment

Prev-Chapter Two-Next

A My Hero Academia group chat fic

Warnings: None besides cursing, just like part one.

Pairings: Just more Izuku pining for Bakugo, it is very strong in this chapter (;

A/N: Hey again yall! Sorry it took me a hot minute to post the next part. If you’d like speedier updates, you can check this fic out on AO3. I have the same username on there ^^ anyways, I hope you enjoy the show again. Sit back and relax as chaos ensues.

~~~~~~~~~~

#1AllMightStan is online

#1AllMightStan: this entire day was a train wreck ):

LegsLegs is online

MochiCheeks is online

MochiCheeks: aw don’t feel bad bc of what that weird kid from class 1-b said deku

#1AllMightStan: Oh I don’t care about Monoma

MochiCheeks: then what’s wrong?

LegsLegs: I believe Midoriya is referring to Bakugos outburst during class today. He called out Midoriya and Todoroki specifically, so it’s understandable that Midoriya would be a bit upset.

MochiCheeks: ohhhh

MochiCheeks: don’t worry too hard about that either deku

MochiCheeks: we’re gonna do great on our exams (: i believe in us

#1AllMightStan: thanks Uraraka (:

#1AllMightStan: I just can’t help but feel bad

#1AllMightStan: like Ik Kacchan seemed angry, but he seemed a little nervous about the exams as well

#1AllMightStan: he might act all big and bold, but I’ve known him long enough to see the signs that he’s been stressed

MochiCheeks: 👀

#1AllMightStan: every time

MochiCheeks: sorry couldn’t help myself (;

#1AllMightStan: smh

#1AllMightStan: AS I WAS SAYING

#1AllMightStan: I can handle Kacchan yelling at me, that’s not what I’m upset about, I just am kinda worried about him is all

LegsLegs: As you have the right to be. It’s not good for future pros to get too overworked. And as of lately Bakugo has been helping Kirishima study for the practically exam as well

#1AllMightStan: oh yeah

#1AllMightStan: that was nice of Kacchan

TheNewBestie is online

TheNewBestie: jealousy thy name is Midoriya

#1AllMightStan: I am not!

TheNewBestie: the proof is in the pudding

LegsLegs: I never should’ve let you and Ochako hang out alone

MochiCheeks: you can’t stop platonic soulmates Iida

TheNewBestie: for real tho Midoriya, I know it’s hard, but you shouldn’t worry about Bakugo

TheNewBestie: both of you are strong and will pass the exam

TheNewBestie: you are still his rival, even if you do have a crush on him

#1AllMightStan: does it have to be mentioned every five minutes

Kermit is online

Kermit: every sixty seconds in Africa a minute passes

#1AllMightStan: this is my thirteenth reason

Kermit: we talkin about Midoriyas crush on Bakugo???

#1AllMightStan: NO WE WERE JUST MOVING ON FROM THAT ACTUALLY

TheNewBestie: right sorry

#1AllMightStan: no no it’s okay Todoroki

#1AllMightStan: Ik you’re right

#1AllMightStan: besides, I should use this chance to show everybody else what I’ve learned

#1AllMightStan: even tho it feels like it hasn’t been that long, we’ve been through a lot together as a class already

#1AllMightStan: it’ll be nice to see how we’ve grown (:

LegsLegs: I couldn’t have said it better myself, Midoriya.

Kermit: Iida, Ochako is teaching Todoroki tik tok Trends again

LegsLegs: URARAKA

MochiCheeks: 🥴

MochiCheeks: me and todoroki wilding in the hallways rn

TheNewBestie: the way I can hear Iida sprinting around the school looking for us

MochiCheeks: well we gotta run before we get hatecrimed

MochiCheeks: talk to you later deku! bye tsu!

#1AllMightStan: bye guys! Don’t let Iida catch you!

TheNewBestie: he probably will

MochiCheeks: yeah

MochiCheeks: you know damn well we still gonna try tho

MochiCheeks is offline. TheNewBestie is offline.

Kermit: rip

#1AllMightStan: wait Todoroki am I in your will

#1AllMightStan: Todoroki

#1AllMightStan: Shoto please

#1AllMightStan: godammit

[anzulvr]

ʚɞ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 2 ୨୧

Prev || 02 Butterfly Effect|| next

Karma hadn't made it to class yet, he wasn't know for being punctual much less early. Rio, Fuwa and Hinano were hovered around Ritsu's main screen with anticipation.

"Ritsu what did you find out? The suspense is killing us!" Hinano asked.

Ritsu nodded, she'd even programmed a detective outfit for herself, taking her job as the investigator very seriously, "Rio was right, He lied about getting a call and met up with someone."

With a dramatic gasp, Fuwa exclaimed, "Sounds like a shady deal scenario? That reminds me of a manga I read where—"

"Not at all! I couldn't see her face or anything but he called her [Name]! They sounded friendly with each other... it's a relief that nothing dangerous happened." Before Fuwa went off on another one of her Shonen rants, Ritsu interrupted her.

"I told you guys! He totally has a secret girlfriend!" Hinano cheered.

Maehara rushed over as if the words '[Name]' and "girlfriend" in the same conversation had summoned him. "No way! Karma's going out with [Name]?!"

"You know her?" Rio questioned.

"Do I know her?! She's rejected me a bunch of times- I was worried I was the problem but if she's dating Karma it all makes sense!"

"You are the problem! She rejected you 'cause you're a womanizer." Isogai shouted from across the room.

"Maehara you're so loud- now everyone knows Karma has a secret girlfriend!" Fuwa chastised, Ironically everyone who was too preoccupied with their own talks to hear the conversation up till this point heard it from Fuwa.

"KARMA HAS A SECRET GIRLFRIEND?!" Fuwa winced at the overwhelming reaction from everyone.

Ritsu elaborated, "I don't want to give misleading information, I'm making assumptions based on one interaction, I was going to go through their chat logs but that felt invasive... I did calculate their compatibility and it's very likely."

"Well what did you hear?" Kayano asked

"Not much, they're going out to eat at the cafè Isogai works at after school."

"We should go then! To see what they're up to and what not." Kayano's eyes light up, like a child whose tasted ice-cream for the first time.

"You just want to go 'cause they sell pudding." Sugaya sweat drops.

"That's only half the reason!"

Isogai suggests, "You all don't need to worry about it, I have a shift today anyways, so I can keep an eye on them."

"No way! I wanna see it first hand!" Hinano counters insistently.

Everyone is startled when Korosensei appears in the middle of the group, thanks to his heightened sense of hearing he is always there when gossip is involved.

"Young love is such a beautiful thing... I could die of happiness right now." He dabs his tears of joy with a handkerchief.

Nagisa, clearly taken aback by his sudden appearance, asks, "How long have you been here?!"

"for one, I think we should help him on his date. We should get her flowers on his behalf and attach a letter with his forged signature. We can send it to her doorstep and—" Korosensei rambles on and on with his own pushy ideas.

Rio stresses, "We are not doing anything, you can't get involved. We don't need her fainting at the sight of you." 

"Yeah that would be hard to explain..." Isogai thought out loud, their dismissal makes Korosensei turn blue with shock, there's no way they're going to meddle without the wingman himself.

"I'm great at disguises! No one will suspect a thing! I promise I won't interfere! I'll listen!" In a moment of desperateness, He leeches on to any excuse that comes to mind.

"Stop getting your tears everywhere! We should plan this later, if Karma catches wind of it, we're so dead." Hinano couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

"Why would you be dead?" Karma walked through the door, timing couldn't have been better.

"NOTHING!" Hinano's shoulders tensed up as she instinctively answered

Karma paid little to no mind to her reaction, he sat down in his seat. His classmates on the other hand were exchanging weird looks. Hinano seemed especially apologetic. Everyone's strange reactions sparked some interest in him but he didn't care enough to delve deeper into the matter. 

[mochiiyaya]

Conflicts

⊱ . .⃗ ༉‧₊˚✧ . ˚ ⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ ۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪✩‧₊✿ ⊰

As Kuroo entered Kenna’s house he yelled out to him but there was no response. He look around to see everything in place as if nothing has been touched in a while. He walked to the kitchen to place down the take out food he brought to eat with him. He finally went to Kenma’s room to find him mopping in the same clothes he last saw him with. He went to open the curtain to let some light enter the room. Kenma groaned at the bright sun entering the dark room which hasn’t had any light.

“Well you really look like you’re going through a bad breakup.” Kuroo trying to lighting his mood, which failed miserable. Kenma turned to the other side to ignore the bed hair guy.

“Okay i’m sorry that wasn’t funny”. Kuroo awkwardly laugh. “Kenma have you eaten anything? I brought food so let’s go eat.”

“Im not hungry.” He finally replied. “Well from the look of it, you haven’t showered much or less eat.”

“I’m too tired right now Kuroo, i don’t feel like doing anything so go away.” He said quietly. “Kenma get up and shower please or else i’m going to carry you there.” Kenma slowly sat up looking at Kuroo in disgust. “Don’t you even dare carry me, I’ll go shower then” Kuroo pouted “Fine then and when you’re done showering come to the kitchen so we can eat together.” Kenma hummed in response.

Once Kenma finished his shower he headed to the kitchen. He sat down across from Kuroo looking unmotivated to do anything. Kenma’s eyes were puffy and had dark circles under them. The bed haired guy was worried about his health but he started serving Kenma a plate so he could at least have something in his stomach.

He placed a plate in front of him. Kenma looked at the food unwilling to eat but there was a loud growl coming from Kuroo’s stomach. Kenma’s eyes widened and let out a small laugh. As he started eating a small smile was formed.

“Soo how are you feeling?” Kuroo asked awkwardly. “Well as you can telling i’m living my best life, i’m very happy. Definitely not been laying on my bed for the past days” He replied sarcastically.

“Kenma you idiot just tell her you like her.” Kuroo said calmly, getting up from his seat walking to the sink. “I couldn’t even do that when someone wasn’t in the picture but now there’s this tall, muscular, nice hair, probably an athlete guy in the picture, i definitely can’t tell her now. I’ll probably have zero chances.” Kenma said as he mopped. Kuroo let out a big sigh as he left to a room. After a few minutes knocks were heard from the front door. Kuroo quickly open it.

HInata rushed in. “Kenma!” He yelled out and went over to him. “I heard everything from Kuroo in my opinion, I don't think Y/n is a type of person to lead someone on. When we all went out together that one time she looked liked she was having a great time with you.” He paused and sighed. “I’m going to say this once and one time only. If you dont even try to fight against that mysterious guy then i don’t think you don’t deserve Y/n so you should let her go for someone better.” Hinata said with a stern look. All eyes were all on him. Both guys eyes widened by what the orange haired said.

“Hinata i dont think that’s very encouraging right now.” Kuroo said worriedly. “This is what he needs to hear right now even if it’s the painful truth.” Hinata added. “He’s right though. Maybe i probably never did deserve her.” “Ke-.” “I dont feel like i do deserve to be around or with her. If can’t fight for her now that someone is in the picture then what’s the point, maybe i should give up.”

Kenma got up and went back to his room to isolate himself again. Kuroo looked back at Hinata and shook his head at him. The orange head guy sighed not knowing if he pushed him in the wrong direction. 

⊱ . .⃗ ༉‧₊˚✧ . ˚ ⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ ۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪✩‧₊✿ ⊰

Sweeter Than Apple Pie | 19

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↳ ❝ Yn owner of a rising bakery cafe. One day a pudding head boy enter with his close friend looking for an apple pie. What will their future bring them when they keep meeting?❞

❥ a/n: HI EVERYONE IM STARTING THIS BACK IM VERY SORRY FOR THE DELAY. theres probably like 4ish chapters left and they will be out around the same time together. i’m sorry again that this chapter is short but please enjoy!

✧ tag list : @tepjameme @rosecarft-lollipop @mochahyuck @hnpriscilla @pasta-warlord @mikantsumiikii @usamizuki @notamazinglizzy @nekoma-hoe @satomiis @simp4tsukkii @achly @lilidrawz @juns-random-world @gabbaeae @cleopatera @mental-instability-xviii-ii @yammmers @alyssasteaparty @fleurnymphet @newfriendjen @glyxiebear @handsoffmyfriends @lollawindsay @bbecc-a @officiallykuute @moonlightaangel @just-snog-already @goodnight-haley @sol-demure @johnnysactualgf @animewithmemes @michelepiekenma @icaruskenma @urmyshinsuke @mirikusashes @daninaninani @babyshoyo @lostmarimoismyhubby @jvhoons @kozumesupremacy @2sj2 @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @shhhspect @destruhction @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @rachelexe @madusas-girlfriend @sukiuqu @a-applepi @elianetsantana @mint-mai @yn-tingz @elixabeth-exe

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 10: I Was A Dick (Written Portion Included)

word count: 1.1k 

“Are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna buy something?”

Osamu whipped his head toward the voice, meeting Kuguri’s cocked brow and knowing smile. He stared, unmoving, eyes comically wide, and he was sure he looked liked a deer caught in headlights. Kuguri's smile widened slightly as Osamu sputtered hopeless excuses.

"I was just - ah - passing by...was just on m' way to the market," he mumbled as he looked down, eyes landing on the real reason he was loitering next to Paradis' Bakery's pop up stand.

The bite-size spheres were packaged two to a pack - the obnoxious, frilly label sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the other bakery goods (whose labels were minimalistic and much more professional, he noted). His eyes flitted over the various berry fillings you had absurdly coated with custard and sweet sushi rice. Quite frankly, it sounded gross - 'deconstructed rice pudding' was not something he ever found himself craving before you made it a thing, and he certainly wasn't craving it now. Osamu scrunched his nose at them and let out an involuntary huff as he brought his arms up to cross over his chest.

"The market is the other way," Kuguri pointed out. Osamu cleared his throat and muttered a dejected 'right'  before he tore his eyes away from the stupid, dumb, little balls of spite and turned to walk in the direction of the market he most definitely doesn't need to go to.

"You know," Kuguri called to him, "if it makes you feel any better - they aren't selling." Osamu stopped, his feet firmly planted to the sidewalk as people ushered past him, hardly sparing a glance toward his frozen frame.

"They aren't selling?"

"Not really. We've had a couple people buy, but to be honest, she ends up taking whatever doesn't sell at the end of the day to the animal shelter down the road," he explained as he dealt with a customer, tossing the gentleman a polite smile and an expertly wrapped loaf of pound cake. Osamu felt his heart squeeze. The small, petty part of him felt smug satisfaction at your own show of pettiness failing - but the bigger part of him, the part that begrudgingly cared, left him with a furrowed brow and the corners of his mouth tugged downward. 

He hadn't known Kuguri for very long, but anyone could tell that the smug look on his face meant he could tell Osamu, for whatever reason, didn't like the idea of you not doing well, financially or otherwise.

"I haven' apologized." Osamu muttered, more to himself than to Kuguri. Kuguri hummed in response.

"I know."

"I should, shouldn' I?"

"I think that would be wise."

Osamu would be lying if he said he hadn't felt some semblance of guilt ever since the curry incident. He often found himself staring at your contact, deft fingers drafting various versions of excuses and insecurities, each draft ending with an 'I'm sorry', before he ultimately deleted it with a sigh. Truth was, he dug his heels into the dirt, and you dug right back, and now it just felt too weird to apologize. He knows the ball's in his court, and he knew that apologizing was the right play, but how he should go about apologizing, he didn't know.

Kuguri noticed this too, he guessed, because he pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Osamu - a note with an address and a phone number scrawled along the top. Osamu threw a questioning glance toward the Kuguri as he turned back to the line of customers.

"It's a place nearby that sells a wine she loves. Tendou told me to tell you to buy her a bottle if you want her to forgive you with no fuss. He also said to give you his number in case you had questions." Osamu didn't dwell on the fact that it seemed almost as if Kuguri (and Tendou, a man he's never met) were expecting him to come for advice. He didn't like feeling so predictable, it made him feel a little too open. With the note clutched in his hand, he shot a wave to Kuguri with a brief nod of thanks, and turned on his heel to head to the aforementioned liquor store.

If he was going to apologize, he was going to do it right.

The last thing you were expecting when you opened the door was a gift basket, neatly wrapped with a bow and a fresh bouquet of violets beside it. You looked it over suspiciously, but when you caught sight of your favorite wine, you assumed it was a congratulatory basket from Tendou and the rest of Paradis Tokyo. You hummed as you grabbed both the basket and the flowers, the small note inside the vibrant blooms catching your eye as you brought your foot up to kick the door closed behind you. You placed both gifts onto the table as you gingerly reached for the card that had been neatly tucked into the beautiful purple bouquet.

'I truly cherish the Small Bliss that is your Sincerity. - S.K'

Your mind drifted back to the peach blossoms that had made their home here just a couple weeks prior, and you beamed at the violets that you've now realized is another gift for Kuguri, from Kita. A grin broke out across your face and you cooed as you situated them in the same place the peach blossoms once stood, card placed delicately in front of the beautiful purple display. You let out a small, content sigh as you turned your attention toward the awaiting gift basket.

The first thing you noticed was the wine, placed in the center, surrounded by your favorite candy. Other, miscellaneous snacks that you love were strewn about, and at the bottom you found an apron - brand new and free of curry stains - in your favorite color. You ran your fingers across the small ruffled pockets and sighed at how soft it felt beneath your skin. Your fingers grazed underneath the pocket of the apron and brushed against what felt like a card. Confused, nimble fingers gripped at the card and softly tugged it from its hiding place, flipping it over so you could get a better look at the front. The cardstock was plain and inconspicuous, and for a moment you thought it was just a placeholder rather than a message, but your nail caught in between and it flipped open to reveal messy scrawl, short and to the point.

'I'm bad at apologies, but I hope this might help it go smoother.'

Your smile fell as recognition struck you. Osamu bought you a gift basket to apologize? How the hell did he get everything you liked, right down to your favorite color? You dropped the card as if it had burned you, wide eyes trained on the ink as it fell back onto the table.

Osamu Miya wants to apologize?

You've got to be kidding me.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun Facts - 

Believe it or not, Osamu *is* a good boy

Kita needs to stop being a shy boi and give Kuguri his flowers in person already ffs

Kuguri, Tendou, and Kita are manning the Osamu x y/n ship and they are willing to make it everyone’s problem 

A/n - finally got chapter 10 out!! I’m SO sorry for the wait. I literally wrote this chapter three different ways before finally settling on this one, so I hope you guys enjoy! Are we finally veering out of enemy territory? lets hope, for my sanity lmao

Taglist - (If you are bold, I can’t tag you! Sorry!)

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats @kaleidoscopekai @confusedturtle @vintagexparker @hoeevern @syaziahvg @hallothankmas @lilith412426 @aurorahoneybuns @oikawakuns @reina-de-tay @prettyinblack231 @snowyseungs​ @darlingkuroo

[jincherie]

florescence | iv

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 5.1k+ ❀ — rating: sfw ❀ — warnings: a pinch of angst... oops ❀ — notes: fiddling and editing, i felt that i needed to expand this bit more so i added some context and cut the end scene off to make the feature of the next chapter

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 16.11.2019 // masterlist || prev. | next.

"You're not going to be returning to a happy audience, y/n."

Startled from your position where you are crouched tying your shoe, you look up and take in the sight of Changkyun's feline form leaning against the wall beside you, white-tipped tail flicking idly behind him. Somewhat amused yet chagrined since you know exactly what he's talking about, you let out a sigh and finish tying your shoes before rising to a stand, dusting your hands against your jeans.

"I know," you respond, somewhat dryly. The cat hybrid is a little too smug for your liking, having been privy to the problem that's been making itself known in your life this week. "I can't help it though. If they want to keep eating pancakes and meat dishes then they gotta put up with me leaving the house for work. I need food tokens because that's capitalism, babey."

The hybrid snorts, rolling the ring over his lip with his tongue before deciding to deign you with a response. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone else refer to cash money as food tokens, but you know what it has a nice ring to it, so I'll let you have that one."

"Thanks for the charity," you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. The kids that had been under your care for the evening are fast asleep in their beds, so you don't have to worry about them catching you leaving and throwing a tantrum. Their mother, a lovely woman who works as a secretary to the CEO of one of your local well-established businesses, has already returned home to thank you and pay you. Staff meetings that run late into the night are particularly gruelling for her, and you made her promise she was going to get some good rest before she retired. Changkyun, the household hybrid who has too strong of a personality to ever be anything but the only hybrid in the house, has followed you out to the front door, and is making the most of his remaining time to bother you to the best of his ability.

"Have they told you why, yet?" Changkyun seems unwilling to let the previous topic go, persistent in his efforts to pull the latest information from you. Begrudgingly, you play along and give the nosy cat what he wants. He's awfully invested in your current affairs for some reason, probably because he'd been nagging you to get hybrids of your own for so long and now you'd finally ended up with some, to his glee.

"No," you huff. Your eyes slide away from his form, falling upon one of the lovely paintings displayed on the walls as you pout. "They haven't said a word, but they're still acting the same."

You don't like the look that enters the hybrid's sly eyes. "I can help, you know." He takes a step closer, leaning forward with a shit-eating grin. "I know what's bothering them. Just let me--"

"Rude cat, if you know then why don't you tell me!" you protest, poking his chest in a manner more playful than anything. "And stop trying to rub on me, I know what you're doing. They were really grumpy with me after you did it the first time so don't think I don't see you trying to stir the pot, cheeky cat."

Changkyun grins, eyes closing in his mirth as he steps back with his hands up in surrender and lets out a laugh. "Ok, fine! Take all the fun out of it! Live without ever knowing the truth, see if I care..."

You roll your eyes, knowing he's still playing with you. "Right, well, I'm going to go before you somehow manage to indirectly upset my hybrids even more. I'm watching you, Changkyunnie."

At the appearance of the nickname you've given him, the hybrid can't help but let out a purr as he laughs and bids you farewell. "Bye! See you next week! I wonder if you will have sorted out your little problem by then."

It's very tempting to flip him the bird, very tempting, but somehow you manage to restrain yourself and you think it really is a testament to your willpower. You bid him farewell and make a quick escape, mind a little hung on his words as you make your way from the house and down the path to where you parked your car.

Will you have resolved this "little problem", as he so blasély put it, by this time next week? You aren't sure, but to be honest you are a little doubtful. Why? Well...

You’re unsure if anyone ever took the time to try and explain the concept of working and jobs to your two hybrids.

You say this because you kind of assumed that they’d know what you mean when, barely three weeks after you brought them home, you told them you were going off to work and wouldn't be back until later—except it quickly became clear that was not the case and they did not, in fact, know what you meant. You’ve been growing closer and closer each day that passed and despite what their guidebooks said, they aren't continuing to act as withdrawn as they had been and aren't refusing to let you close. You’re overjoyed, of course, at the development, but you had no idea it would mean they would get so clingy.

Somewhat disgruntled at the turn of your thoughts as you climb into your car, you recall how it had all gone down that first day you'd returned to work. “What?” Seokjin’s voice climbed in pitch as he looked to you in alarm, attention torn from the pancake batter he’d been stirring. You showed him how to make it without help the other day and ever since he’s been trying to perfect it on his own. He blinked like he couldn’t believe what you just said, and you swore you could hear a hint of fear riding in his tone. “You’re what? You’re leaving? Why are you leaving?”

“I have to go to work,” you explained clearly, a little amused and endeared at the fact he’d evidently thought you’d be at home with them all the time. “I need to make money to pay the bills so we can keep living here and making pancakes, you know.”

When you brought the hybrids home, you’d immediately taken some time off work—you know how critical the first few weeks are in establishing comfort and an environment and dynamic where they feel safe. You suppose you never paused and thought about whether they realised you’d have a job that you would have to return to at some point. Perhaps this was your fault.

“Wh—do you have to? Do you have to go?” He was still holding the wooden spoon he was stirring with, looking at you with wide eyes. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to,” you affirmed, sending him an apologetic look. You almost forgot Taehyung was in the kitchen with you until you felt a tugging on your shirt and looked to the stool where he was perched and—oh, no, he was giving you the puppy eyes, the most potent pair of them you’d ever seen in your life.

“Hey, don’t give me those eyes, mister puppy.” You reached and booped his nose; his cheeks flushed and his ears lowered. “I won’t be gone long, you’ll survive.”

To your complete and utter surprise, Taehyung pulled away and angled his body in the opposite direction, effectively turning his back to you and rolling his eyes. You were left gaping at the uncharacteristic show of attitude. He… just rolled his eyes? At you? What…

Seokjin decided to pursue a different avenue in the hopes of persuading you to shirk your responsibility and stay. He droped the spoon into the bowl and rounded the counter in a few large steps, moving quick and taking your hands into his hold. He whimpered sadly, already making a very strong argument. “y/n, please don’t go.”

You were weak-willed when it comes to these two hybrids, as you quickly found out, but it is because of how much you care for them that you were able to resist. It wasn’t without another half hour of whining and clinging that you were able to leave the house, though. You work as a nanny for a select few affluent families, so its not like you’re working fulltime office hours, and most importantly you’re always going to come back. You have no idea why they’re so opposed to the idea of you leaving at all when they’ve shown they understand your reasoning…

The previous days you’ve come home after work, you’ve received a fair spread of responses. At first, they clung to you. When you came home after that first day of work (mind you, you were gone barely five hours that time) from the second you walked through the door, your two hybrids all but tackled you and stayed firmly attached to your side for the entire night after that. If they could, you were sure they’d shackle you to them.

The night after that, the reception was a little different. They were upset that you’d left again, and proceeded to let you know—for about the half hour that they could last without cuddling on the couch, that is. All you had to do was pull pudding out of the oven and your treason was forgotten, hybrids by your side and pressed against you once more. This, understandably, lulled you into a false sense of security of sorts. Perhaps they’d get over it soon?

Nope. The days after that, they switched it up in favour of something they seemed to think would be more effective. You’re no stranger to the cold shoulder, and usually quite sensitive to it, but to be honest… their attempt humoured you more than anything. The visible conflict in their expressions every time they attempted to brush you off is probably what was funniest. Every time they ignored you, or didn’t respond, it went against their nature and their usual urges. They’re soft, cuddly boys, you’ve found. And they might be grumpy, but even as they’re trying to make a statement, they can’t help but long for the way things usually are. Their cold shoulder usually lasts about an hour, and then they break. Nowhere near long enough to really have an effect.

But by today, when you arrive home from the job with Changkyun, you think it’s beginning to wear on you a little bit. When you ease the front door open, banging your toe on the frame and letting out a curse in the process, no one comes to greet you. The house isn’t empty (you can hear them scuffling about in their room) and the lights are on, but still, it feels… a little lonely. You huff, slightly grumpy that they’re still throwing a tantrum over this. As much as you try not to let it show, it is frustrating. You have to work! It’s not something you can simply stop doing because you want to, or your hybrids want you to.

You halt in the hallway to the kitchen, making yourself pause and take a breath. You’re frustrated and a little grumpy, yes, but you don’t want them to pick it up. They’re sensitive to these things, you’ve found. You watched a video on Facebook about kittens that made you cry the other day and barely a second after the first tear touched your cheek had Seokjin almost broke down your door, worried to high hell and back because he smelt it and thought something was wrong. You’ve been very careful since then, not wanting them to feel upset or uncomfortable as a result of your own emotions.  

Once you’re sure you’ve collected yourself enough, you continue into the kitchen, placing your bag on the table as you walk past. Humming and knowing that the quickest way to get them out of their mood is food, you open the fridge to stare inside, hoping an idea for dinner will come to you like a vision from above. Your fridge may be many things, but it’s not prophetic, and currently it’s not stocked with much food either. Huffing, you close the door with a little more force than necessary and turn away, wincing at the following bang. Hopefully the eggs are ok.

You’re not much in the mood to make a big meal tonight, so you make the executive decision to pull the tortellini you’ve been craving from the freezer and set it on the bench. Begrudgingly, after a moment of consideration, you pull out a few vegetables to add to the sauce mix. You suppose you better put some effort in, since you’ve already chosen the lazy meal.

True to character, as soon as the tortellini begins to cook in the pot and the smell begins to permeate the air, you hear the sound of light footsteps creeping down the stairs, attempting to go unnoticed. You wonder if they underestimate the extent of your human hearing, or if they’re just really bad at being sneaky.

They don’t go into the kitchen straight away, but they go to the living room, as close as they can get to the source of the smell without giving in and talking to you. You roll your eyes, partly amused and partly miffed. You suppose this is how it’s gonna be.

Considering how easy of a dish it is, it doesn’t take you long to cook and serve it. Instead of calling them to the kitchen to grab it, you slip out of the room and make you way to where they’ve started watching Netflix, next to each other on the couch.

Whether they don’t hear you coming or are still hell bent on ignoring you, you’re able to sneak right up behind them, the back of their heads peeking just over the back of the couch. Your hands slip forward, fingers weaving through the silky locks atop their head and ruffling them. Both hybrids jerk, Seokjin letting out a surprised yelp as he turns partly in his seat to shoot you an alarmed look.

The tension in their forms melts away in the next second as the tips of your fingers and your nails lightly drag across their scalps, brushing just barely the bottom of their ears. You think you hear a sharp intake of breath, surprisingly from Taehyung’s direction, but can’t verify it before your hands leave the top of their heads and your smiling at them as they turn to face you.

“Dinner is ready, bubs,” you say, somewhat humoured by the visible conflict on their faces—they manage to settle on remaining disgruntled, though, much to your disappointment.

They rise from the couch, pouting, and follow you to the dining table. They seat themselves without another word, and as soon as they see you reaching for your fork and taking your first bite, they follow suit. You think they plan to stay silent throughout the entirety of dinner, but you manage to wear them down enough that Seokjin lets slip a few sentences of how their day went and what they got up to. Aside from that, dinner passes quickly and somewhat tensely. It’s an odd tension, though, as though it’s not yet fully formed and kind of incomplete. Like there’s a lack of conviction and commitment to it.

As soon as they’re done eating, like the sweet boys they are they take their dishes to the kitchen, rinse them off and load them into the dishwasher along with the other containers and utensils used for dinner. You rinse your own bowl as well once done and pop it in with theirs; without even a glance in your direction, Taehyung adjusts it so the fan won’t hit it and then slides the full drawers in, placing a dishwashing tablet in and turning it on. Efficient; he certainly wastes no time about it.

Already even before this point, you knew that they were going to try and bolt the second they could—and it seems your predictions come true, as the second they hear the dishwasher turn on and begin its cycle, the two of them are inching towards the edge of the kitchen, barely an ounce of sneakiness to their name. Fighting a sigh, you dry your hands before taking a few steps and using them to definitively grasp their own. As you lace your fingers together, the two hybrids freeze, Taehyung shooting you a wide-eyed look and Seokjin faltering in his stride.

"Will you two stay, if you're not too tired?" You ask, a shred of vulnerability more than planned making itself known in your voice. "They added some movies I really like to Netflix, and I really wanted to show you. I thought we could watch them together...?"

You can tell the second you look at Taehyung's face, his features softened and eyes shining, that he's given up giving you the cold shoulder for the night. Seokjin's slumped shoulders, tension having fled at your words, also tell you that he's on the same page as his brother. You brush your thumb over his hand and feel his grip tighten as he turns to you, smiling slightly.

"Of course we're not tired yet, what did you want to watch?"

You spend the rest of the night curled with them on the couch, tension long gone and only warm affection drawing the three of you together, and can't help but think maybe this was the last of their protests. They're sweet, these boys, and you know part of the reason they're upset is that you're leaving when they want you to be here, spending time with them.

But alas, it is not to be, and your optimism is quickly shot down.

Their reaction to your continued absence during the work days persists. Each morning you wake and get ready for work, your two hybrids are there almost every step of the way pleading with you to stay, offering any bribe they can think of onto the table to aid their bid—cuddles on the couch, snacks, movies, naps. Admittedly, each day it gets a little harder to steel your resolve and actually go to work, but you try not to let them see that they’re gradually wearing you down. They’re too endearing for their own good—it probably isn’t healthy for them to have you as wrapped around their fingers as they currently do.

At this point, you get the sense that it’s not just one, but a number of reasons at play that make them so averse to you leaving for work. It occurs to you that they’re probably still a bit insecure, given their background and the fact they haven’t actually been here that long. But at the same time, it feels like it’s also more than that.

You work as a nanny and babysit children, but since you work for families who are usually perched on the upper echelon, it’s not uncommon for you to be spending a lot of time in proximity to other hybrids as well. Ever since they were first created, hybrids have been a symbol of wealth and affluence. Despite much more of the middle and working class having them as companions these days, in a sense that earlier attitude still stands. A few of the families you work for have hybrids, two of them having more than one. Thankfully, none of them mistreat their hybrids, in actuality you were surprised upon first working for them to find that they’re treated almost as well as the children are. It makes you happy to see such a shift from the common attitude, and the hybrids themselves are all so lovely that even when the kids have crummy days and want nothing more than to throw tantrums, you have no complaints.

Despite just over a week and a half of avoidance about why they’re so grumpy, it seems today is the day you’re finally going to gain an insight into the cause of their behaviour and push your hybrids over a line you didn’t even know was there until they cross it.

It’s a Friday where you’ve just arrived home after working with one of those families with multiple hybrids, that you seem to push your own over a line of sorts. You’re a little tired as you come through the door, eagerly slipping your boots off and hanging your bag and jacket up. Neither of the hybrids come running to greet you, as they might have done before you ‘betrayed’ them and started leaving the house for work. You’re less amused than you might have been in days prior, and more pouty—ever since they started cuddling you you’ve grown addicted, and you miss the warmth and affection when you’re away.

Well, you suppose today you’ll either have to go find them or let them gradually come to you.

Humming to yourself, you bring the take-away boxes of stir fry the family had been so kind to share with you into the living room, plopping them on the coffee table with some cutlery. They tinkle and clank together obnoxiously, as most metal items do, and you open a box and sit back, waiting for the sound and the smell of meat to rouse the hybrids from wherever they’re hiding.

You don’t have to wait long—Taehyung is the first to appear, his eyes lighting up on instinct the second he sees you, before he catches himself and smooths his expression, averting his eyes to the food on the table and taking one of the boxes and some cutlery. Even when he’s pouting, he can’t stand being too far away from you; he perches on the cushion next to you, but as far away as the armrest will allow him so that he can still let you know he’s not happy you left this morning. He’s so cute, sitting there and pouting as he shoves stirfry in his mouth, you can’t even find it in yourself to be annoyed at his childlike behaviour. The two of you eat in silence until Seokjin comes, the male’s soft footfalls announcing his presence before the sound of his inquisitive sniffing does.

You look up as he enters the room, curious to see if the fox hybrid will continue giving you a weak attempt at the cold shoulder as he has been for the first hour or so after you get home every night. He does, but when you give him a pleasant greeting with a bright smile you can see his resolve waver. He grabs his food and cutlery and sets up on the couch adjacent to this one, pointedly avoiding your eyes lest his resolve completely shatter. There is a small amount of tension in the air but you decide to let them finish their meals before you address it. Enough is enough but you’re all also hungry.

The second both of them are done and sitting back in content, you stack the boxes and push them further into the middle of the table so they don’t tip. Your movement brings you closer to Seokjin, and he sniffs subtly before his nose wrinkles and his brows draw down harshly. He doesn’t say anything, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip instead, but you catch it nonetheless.

Curious at the reaction and knowing (hoping) you don’t smell bad, you turn to Taehyung and lean closer experimentally to see if he will give a similar response. He does, still not looking at you—surprise filters through you when you see his features twist into a scowl. Wow, this past week you’re really seeing a new side to the shy baby, huh?

“Alright, what is it?” you ask, throwing the question into the tense air before either of them can bolt and fester with whatever mood they’re in. “Why are the two of you so upset and why do you pull that face when I get close? Do I stink?”

To his credit, Seokjin appears a little sheepish at being called out, cheeks flushing with brief embarrassment—Taehyung on the other hand remains steadfast and petulant, crossing his arms. His ears are lowered and still, he refuses to look at you.

“…No,” Seokjin answers you, eyes flicking away. He’s pouting, tone bordering on a grumble. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You blink, surprised at the sass and distance he’s suddenly putting between you. It didn’t take you long after they arrived to realise that Seokjin preferred open communication and honesty, but had a little trouble working up the nerve to say things sometimes and hence stayed quiet instead. But this time he’s fibbing to you, brushing it under the rug and attempting to dismiss it when you can see something is up. You can’t help but wonder what brought that about.

“Oh?” you say, turning your gaze to Taehyung—the action makes you catch him while glimpsing at you and he rips his gaze away, cheeks flushing as he scowls more. “It’s ‘nothing’ that has the two of you so grumpy?”

Seokjin’s brows drew together, lips tugging down into a frown. Your words seem to set him off a bit, as he’s suddenly on the defensive. “No.  Maybe. What do you care? You’re never here anymore and you—you probably don’t even care about us anymore. You’re too busy caring about—about other h-people. Whatever.”

Your brows shoot up as he stands suddenly, Taehyung following suit—you can tell that Seokjin wants to stomp off and keep being dramatic by ignoring you, but he can’t seem to make himself skip saying goodnight to you. So he says it, but makes sure to imbue it with as much sass and attitude as possible. “Goodnight.”

Completely taken aback, you watch as they file out of the living room and no doubt go to make their way upstairs to their room. You’re not angry, but you’re definitely a bit confused and feel a little guilty, among other feelings that quickly begin to make themselves known. The two of them know that you look after children for your job, and when you told them it didn’t seem to make them bitter or envious—it seems more than a little out of character for them to be upset that you leave them to babysit kids now.

You’re actually a little hurt, if only because you’re also confused and have no idea why they’re acting this way. You have no idea, and they won’t tell you—you could probe further, press harder, but will that make them tell you, or will it push them further away? You don’t want to risk upsetting them more, and if that’s a possibility you don’t think you could make yourself follow through with it.

Sitting there on the couch, completely alone and very aware of the absence of their warmth, your chest aches a little. You’re new to this, you don’t know all the things a new hybrid owner probably should, and it shows. Your first instinct is to focus on them—what is their problem?—but now that you sit here and ruminate a little, you realise that this is more than a little bit your fault. If you were a more knowledgeable owner, then surely you’d have at least an inkling as to what is wrong. But you don’t, you’re so painfully in the dark it’s shameful enough to make a fresh wave of guilt course through you.

You need to find out more, research a little, but you’re not sure where to start. You have no clue what is bothering them in the first place, and even less idea as to how to solve it. Deep in your thoughts, you rise and begin tidying up after dinner in a bit of a haze. You almost drop the cutlery on the way to the kitchen, but manage to catch it just at the last second. After cleaning what you needed to, you made your way to your bedroom and curled into the bed, a frown tugging your lips of its own accord. It takes you a while to settle down and fall asleep as your mind races and leaves you in its wake. You really hope this whole thing doesn't go on for too long, because it's only been a single night that they've ignored you like this and it sucks.

The next day after you work-- a different house to yesterday, one with two male hybrids of the labrador variety-- the reaction is much the same, if not worse. They don't even come out when you call them for dinner, having arrived home early enough to actually make it today. At some point, they come out and take their plates of food, but you miss it, which you're quite upset at yourself for. The first and only time you see them that evening, is by chance as you emerge from your room after a shower and catch a glimpse of them scuttling back to their own. Their dishes are on the kitchen bench when you go to fetch some water, and it makes your heart twinge a little. They're really not going to talk to you at all? You don't think you're doing anything that bad! You have no choice but to leave for work, you need income so you can support yourself and now them. It's not something you can just drop and never deal with, and you have a feeling they know that and yet... something is upsetting them. You just want them to tell you, so that you can try and fix it however you can.

That night, you contemplate knocking on their door and seeking them out, and even get all the way to the closed door of their room before you halt, hand in the air. Ultimately, you can't make yourself do it. Perhaps, if they want to be alone, then leaving them alone is best. Heart hanging heavy in your chest, you turn on your heel and silently make your way to your room, but not before you utter a soft "Goodnight, boys." knowing that no matter how quietly you say it, they'd still hear it.

Your mood is looking like it's about to quickly spiral, so in an effort to prevent it you find yourself in the middle of a self-consolation session. Tomorrow you don't have any work, a day off you've been looking forward to, so surely that will cheer them up and make them emerge from their shells? You miss them, and as you curl into your bed once more without the lingering warmth of their usual cuddles that you seem to have grown accustomed to, you feel lonelier than ever.

You really hope that tomorrow, things will turn around a little.

a/n: i hope u enjoy it n please let me know what u think! the next part is already partially done so it shouldn’t be too long before the next part is out! hurray for the academic year ending here !!

masterlist || prev. | next.

[mizumelona]

set me up | atsumu x reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend Sharon who encouraged me to start this blog and helps me with my writing. @Sharon I kept my promise hehe.

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~

You tossed Atsumu’s sweater into the washer with your other juice covered clothes and made your way to your bedroom. You picked up your phone to text your mom.

Lovely Daughter:

I think I need to take a break from these dates

You still wanted to find a boyfriend and flex on your cousin, but this blind dating thing wasn’t exactly working out. You cringed remembering that your favorite cream shorts might be ruined for good. Taking a step back seemed like a good choice for now. Maybe you’d spontaneously run into someone worth your time. Blonde hair and a cheeky smirk flashed in your mind.

Huh. What was that? You shook your head. That was definitely not happening.

As you finished sending the message you got another notification.

Boss:

Reminder that our team is working from home this week while they replace the carpets in the office. Can you send me the updated prototype of your project by Friday morning?

Ugh. Working from home was bad news for you. Despite being an overachiever, your home was a safe oasis that was completely separated from your work life. When it came to trying to work while your favorite blanket and TV were 2 feet away, you had no self-control. You tried to look on the bright side. Who knows? Maybe this is the week you learned a little self-control.

~

Onigiri Miya. Thursday 6:27 PM

It wasn’t.

You had plenty of inspiration on Monday but took a break to watch one episode of your favorite sports anime and ended up binging the next two seasons. Tuesday you’d pulled up the files you needed to work on but you saw a manga spoiler while browsing Instagram and decided to binge the manga too. Yesterday you were shook about the most recent cliffhanger and got carried away reading fan fiction. It wasn’t until 5 PM that you realized that the prototype was due in a day but by then you were already fucked.

Cut to you grinding like crazy for the past 24 hours. You’d pulled an all-nighter last night except for 20 minutes at 5 in the morning when you crashed and knocked out on your keyboard. When you woke up there was an imprint of the spacebar on your chin. Finally you had most of the prototype completed, so you were crawling out of your cave for some food.

Sweats, glasses, hair messily pulled away from your face. You haggardly stumbled toward the restaurant. You’d exhausted your instant noodle supplies and had been so focused on finishing the damn prototype that you didn’t stop to eat today. You were pretty sure you were going to pass out if you didn’t get some food in your body ASAP.

You pushed the door to the restaurant open.

“Welcom- woah [Y/N]…you doing okay?”, Osamu paused mid rice ball roll and looked you up and down.

“Holy shit ya look like a zombie!”, Atsumu exclaimed from his usual seat at the bar.

You ignored Atsumu’s comment. You had no energy left for making snarky comebacks. “Osamu. Three Minced tuna onigiri and an iced Calpico please and thank you.”

“Sure…”, Osamu gave you a concerned look before turning to get started on your order.

You dumped your things onto an open table and sunk into the seat. You flipped open the laptop that you’d brought with you and started tapping on the keys. There was a big fat error alert on the screen. Great. You tried to edit the file. Another error. Ugh you were so close it was frustrating. You typed a few more edits in. Success! Loading…

Finally. You leaned back into the chair, staring at the ceiling. You heard some familiar footsteps approaching you. Here he comes.

On cue, Atsumu slid into the seat across from you. “Yo what happened?”

“I’m an idiot. That’s what happened.” You closed your eyes and massaged your temples. Your head was aching from staring at the screen for so long.

He snorted. “I know a lotta idiots but you aren’t one of them” He peeked over at your screen. “What’s with the laptop? This isn’t a coffeeshop sweetheart”

“Work.” You bluntly replied. You scrunched up your face. Sure his voice was smooth as ever, but right now anything but complete silence was making your head pound.

“You’re in a good mood aintcha?” He smirked. You glowered in his direction, your dark circles making you look extra ominous.

“Stop irritating my customers ‘Tsumu” Osamu smoothly shut Atsumu down. He placed a tray of food on the table. “I got three minced tuna onigiri and an iced Calpico”

“Bring me a drink too ‘Samu”

“Get it yourself ’Tsumu”

An upbeat ringtone started playing from Osamu’s pocket. He pulled his phone out and took the call. “Hey babe…I’m just at the restaurant…no, it’s not that busy…wait…what!” Osamu raised his eyebrows.”…Okay yeah I’ll be right there.” He turned to Atsumu. “‘Tsumu close the restaurant. I need to go help Sharon”

“Huh? Ya can’t just-“, Atsumu tried to protest, but Osamu took his Onigiri Miya hat off and shoved it on Atsumu’s head. Osamu scrawled a note about closing early and taped it to the door on his way out. Atsumu stood there looking irritated as he watched his brother run off through the window.

He turned to you. “Well ya heard him. You’re gonna hafta take your rice balls and work home sweetheart”

Wait. You checked your screen. 15%. Rip. Starting the process while you ate dinner probably wasn’t the best idea, but you needed this to finish loading and couldn’t risk it getting messed up on the trip back up to your apartment. You turned to Atsumu, “I’m sorry about earlier. Please let me stay a little longer. I really need this thing to finish loading”

“No way”

“It’ll only take a second” You pleaded with him. He turned to walk away. “Please. Atsumu”

He paused. Wait, was that the first time you’d called him by his real name? He turned back to you with that devious smile he got whenever he had one of his “brilliant” ideas.

“How ‘bout this? You help me clean, I’ll letcha stay here even though I really should be closing up”

“Deal”

~

Onigiri Miya. 45 Minutes Later.

“I’m pretty sure when we made our deal you said it would take ‘just a second’”. The bashful smile from earlier had long been wiped off his face replaced with the current impatient scowl. You’d finished eating your onigiri shortly after Osamu left, and you two had been sitting at the same table sipping Calpico and watching the loading bar for the last 45 minutes.

“It’s really almost done now.” You were running out of excuses to stall for time.

“Hurry it up. I got things to do sweetheart”, he said and took a noisy sip of his drink.

Okay [y/n] we need to think of a way to stall. You went through your options. Hm. Actually, complimenting people usually works pretty well, especially when that person has as big of an ego as this blondie. Okay you decided on your plan of attack.

“Hey” You smiled innocently at Atsumu. “Thanks again for waiting with me. You’re a lot nicer than I thought”

“How many times do I hafta tell ya that that creepy smile isn’t fooling me?” Atsumu set his drink back on the table. “And was that supposta be a compliment? When did I ever do anythin’ to piss you off?” He leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Says the guy who crashed not one but two of my dates”

“I didn’t do nothin’”

“You were the reason the strawberry juice was on the table to begin with”

“I’m also the reason why you’re still here even though I could’ve kicked you out an hour ago.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Touche” You leaned forward. “How about we call a truce then.” You held out your hand.

He looked at your hand skeptically. “Truce? That implies we were fightin’ in the first place”

“You gonna take it or not?”, You smiled slyly and waved your hand. “Let me tell you now. I’m not someone you want as an enemy”

“Jeez that’s pretty scary sweetheart.” He leaned forward with his trademark cheeky grin…and was he blushing a bit? “Fine. Truce.” He reached out to shake your hand.

“I know the perfect way to celebrate” He said, rising from his seat. He walked behind the counter and rustled around in the fridge. You heard him mutter, “Where did ‘Samu put it”, as he continued digging around. “Aha. Here it is!”, he declared, finding whatever he was looking for. Atsumu walked back and plopped down in his seat, setting two cups of pudding on the table.

“Haha. Nice.” You picked up one of the pudding cups but noticed a little note stuck to it. “Huh. What’s this?” You pulled off the note to read it. Osamu’s pudding: DO NOT EAT. “Wait a second we can’t-“

Atsumu took the container out of your hands, broke the seal on the cover, and handed it back.

“Atsumu!”, you exclaimed.

“You’re welcome.” He opened his pudding cup and shoveled a spoonful in his mouth. “Mmm”

Well it’s not like you could put it back now that it was opened. You scooped a spoonful into your mouth. Your face lit up. Osamu’s pudding preferences were on point.

“I have a question”, Atsumu asked. “Why were ya tryin’ so hard on those dates anyways? Those guys were obviously trash, and ya don’t really seem like the type that’s desperate for romance.”

What he said wasn’t wrong, and you two were kind of having a moment here. You figured it’d be fine to tell him about it.

“Ugh the thing is” You gulped down another spoon of pudding. “I’m trying to prove something to my family”

“Huh?”

“They don’t think I’m capable of romance, and my shitty cousin loves to rub it in my face. I’m trying to find a guy so I can flex on them”

He smirked. “Hah, that’s real petty”

You pointed your spoon at him. “I don’t wanna hear that from you.”

“Fair point”

Your computer chimed. You both turned to look at the screen. 100% Loaded.

“Yes!” You pumped your fists.

“Finally” Atsumu sighed, scraping the last of his pudding out of the cup. “So, ya gonna help me clean?”

“A deals a deal. Where should I start?”, you said combing your hair out of your face.

“I’ll take the tables. You’re on dish duty”

Atsumu went into the supply closet and came back with a rag. You caught yourself staring as he pushed his sleeves up. Okay the man had beautiful forearms, so what? You quickly looked away.

“You okay [y/n]?”, Atsumu interrupted your thoughts, cocking his head. Shit. You hoped he hadn’t noticed your little slip-up.

“Uh yeah! I got the dishes!”

~

You’d emailed the final prototype and you two were almost done tidying up. The only thing left to do was mopping the floor.

“[Y/N], How about we have a lil challenge”

You raised an eyebrow.

Atsumu brought two mops out of the supply closet, tossing one to you. “I’ll race ya. Last one to mop to the other side loses”

This was stupid there was no way you were about to have a dumb mopping ra-

“Unless you’re too scared”

You gripped your weapon. “Hah, You’re on”

You both stood at one end of the restaurant. Mops in hand.

“Ready” Atsumu clenched his mop. “Go!”

You realized that challenging a pro-athlete to a fair race was stupid. That’s why you didn’t intend to play fair. As soon as Atsumu motioned to take his first step you swiped your dripping mop in front of his foot. He lost his balance.

“Fuck!”

“Haha Loser!”, you turned to laugh at him. Thwack!

Atsumu collided with you knocking you backward. You hit the ground with a thud, securely pinned under him. Shit. He hauled himself onto his hands and knees, looking down at you.

“You cheated!”, he shouted.

“That doesn’t give you the right to tackle me!”, you shot back.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to tackle you!”

“So what!”, you grabbed his collar pulling him back so your foreheads were touching. You both paused. Shit. Did you just do something weird?

You were suddenly very aware of the nice smell wafting off his hair. You gulped. There was a pink blush creeping over Atsumu’s nose. He looked dumbstruck at first but soon a cheeky grin spread across his face.

“Wow [y/n], you’re pretty bold huh.”

“Shut up!”

The chimes jingled and the door opened. You both jumped and turned to the sound.

“Oolala”, the girl who came with Osamu was snickering.

“…is that my pudding?”

~

After that, you’d both apologized to Osamu, properly mopped the floor. You were getting ready to go home now. Luckily neither of you had been seriously injured in your little incident, but any time your eyes met Atsumu would shoot you an infuriating smirk.

As you were about to leave, Atsumu called out to you. “Hey [y/n] I’m gonna need my sweater back soon”

“Oh right! I forgot it at my apartment but I washed it so I’ll bring it by tomorrow”

“Sounds good. Good night [y/n].” As he turned to walk away, he looked back over his shoulder and smiled at you. It was a sincere smile like the one he gave you as he handed you his sweater the other day. You couldn’t help but smile back. This guy.

Your phone buzzed as you started walking back toward your apartment. You pulled it out.

Jerk Cousin:

Family brunch two Sundays from now. Don’t forget you’re in charge of fruit. My mom told me to remind you. She also said to tell you that you can bring a plus one, not that you’d need it lol

~

Onigiri Miya. Friday 11:15 AM

You’d slept like a baby that night, and woke up more refreshed than ever. It was like your 24 hours of hell never happened. You pulled open the door to the restaurant.

“Hey Osamu is Atsumu here? I have the sweater I kept forgetting in my apartment” You rustled through your bag pulling the sweater out. Looking up, you suddenly noticed that the restaurant was more packed than usual, and most of the occupants were looking at you.

“Oya?”

“Oya oya?”

[unmanageable-day]

15. Between a friend and another friend

When you are friends for so long, and it has never come across your mind to date one of them. Until one particular guy friend of yours came to offer you a relationship, a new chapter of life like no other before. 

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a/n : i hope this is not messed up :’)

Finally, came the day when the last boxes of your stuff had officially moved in to the future house. Nobody was thrilled more than your parents. The big day was really coming and your stomach felt funny. Nervous? Yes, definitely. Ecstatic? Excited? Nah, you were not even sure about that.

After arranging your stuff with typical bickering with the soon-to-be husband, you and Doyoung ended the long day with a big portion of ramyun. He was satisfied looking at the new feeling of his home. The shared closet filled with clothes in similar range of color, shoe drawer that was dominated by your collection of flat shoes, mules and heels, kitchen and dining supplies—including a newly bought tea set, last but not least was the make-up and dressing table full of skin care products.

“The boys want to throw a welcoming party for you,” told him before starting digging in. “For being the new member of this apartment complex, they said.”

“You don't mean a housewarming party in this house, right?”

He chuckled. He definitely read your mind and your horrified expression that you didn't want to do the cleaning after a mess from an occasion with a pack of people. “No. Yuta is booking a restaurant nearby. How about this Sunday? Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, feeling relieved. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Great. I'll let them know.”

“Anyway, Doyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Did Taeyong call you?”

Doyoung was stunned. He had to control his facial expression and his emotion. Thank goodness that he and you had finished eating. Clearing his throat, he started to tidy up the dining table and headed to the sink. “Why?” he asked, his back facing you as he started to wash the ramyun pot.

“Well, I met him, and we talked a bit. I guess he's ready to.. you know, to sort some things up between us. I haven't heard from him again. Did he contact you?”

It takes several days for you to tell me? he said in his head. “Ah, yeah, he did yesterday. We're meeting tomorrow.”

“That's great.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope it will go well for you. Both of you.”

“Wish me luck, I guess?”

“Of course,” you assured him, your voice sounded delighted.

No. Really, wish me luck so I will be the lucky one to get to be with you.

Even the fact that you had decided to move in still couldn't gave him that confidence. He still felt the insecurity consuming him whenever the thought of Taeyong came to his mind.

ㅡ ❆

The dinner with the guys this weekend would remark as the first event after Taeyong finally stopped avoiding you and Doyoung. Hopefully it could be a fresh start for the three of you. You assumed these bestfriends had made up. Although it was inevitable to be the same like the old times, you still wished that things would return to normal.

“Everything will be alright, right?” you asked Doyoung for assurance before heading out. It was funny how you felt nervous to meet your own squad, but as Doyoung's 'housemate'.

“Of course. I've got your back.” He pat your shoulder.

On your way to the restaurant which you decided to go on foot, you were blabbering non-stop about this and that and all random things to overcome the nervousness. Probably it was irritating Doyoung's ears as he didn't respond much. “Okay. Here goes nothing,” you spoke to yourself, breathing in deeply before pushing open the restaurant door.

When you arrived, there were Yuta, Johnny and his girlfriend, Jaehyun, Mark, Donghyuk, Jaemin, Jeno, Sooyoung, and Seulgi already sitting, chattering, and devouring the appetizer. Yuta was the first to welcome you with his loud personality when he saw you by the door. Just then, Taeyong appeared from toilet and he made eye contact with you and Doyoung. You were about to say hi to him, yet he chose to go directly back to his chair. You spotted the empty seat beside Taeyong, so you naturally went there. Doyoung followed and sat down next to you, feeling restless.

“Now that Jooyeon is here, should we cheer for Mr. and soon-to-be Mrs. Kim Doyoung?” Yuta excitedly lead the group for a toast. The mood was instantly liven up, thanks to him. After the first toast, all of you continued to eat.

When you were scanning all the food on the table, Jaehyun offered you a basket of seafood platter, which taken by Taeyong instead. He took the remaining fried fish fillet and put them on your plate, leaving the shrimp and calamari on the basket. You looked at him, not saying anything but he got you. “You're allergic to prawn and you don't like squid.”

You drew a sincere smile. The fact that he still remembered your eating habit somehow made you feel touched. “Thank you,” you almost squealed.

Doyoung silently watched and observed what just happened. Suddenly a bitter taste crept up his mouth although he was munching some baked sweet potato. His appetite was slowly decreasing as he couldn't help but to witness the affection Taeyong showered you.

Taeyong would always picked a food that he thinks you would like. He would make sure that the food he put on your plate didn't contain some ingredients that you disliked. He would check if the food taste spicy or not before he gave some to you. He even switched the chocolate pudding he got for you when everybody knew that it was his favorite dessert.

For Doyoung, this dinner felt like a soft torture he had to endure. He felt powerless. It didn't feel like he was your fiancee. It was like just he was being there as your regular friend. Yes, you were the star of tonight. Being a good friend and partner as you thought you were, you would still talk to him and shared some food, even feeding him with your hand. But Doyoung knew you paid more attention to Taeyong. You were all ears listening attentively to whatever Taeyong was talking about. This bestfriend of yours didn't even steal the spotlight for tonight. Yet he got your fullest attention. And it was shown in his sparkly eyes, how he was comfortably enjoying your company.

“You didn't eat much. Are you sick?” you asked when you arrived home.

“I'm fine.”

“Want me to cook something for you?” You checked the fridge only to find eggs and some side dishes from Doyoung's mom. “Toast with eggs?” you offered.

“That would be nice.”

While waiting for his food, his mind recalled his meeting with Taeyong.

'I assume you already know that Hyemi and I are over,' Taeyong started. 'I've told Jooyeon about that too.' 'I want to say I'm sorry, but I guess that's not the case for you. Am I right?' Doyoung responded calmly. 'You're right.' 'Look, I'm sorry for the way I was. You know how much I value you as a friend. You're very precious for me. And so is she. I'm not gonna lie it still hurts watching her with you. But I guess, I just have to deal with it and overcome it, right?' 'I'd appreciate it. Really.' But, really, how do you deal with it, Taeyong? 'Sometimes I wish you or Johnny were a girl. I'd definitely choose you or him over anything.' The bunny guy tried to laugh without sounded fake. Or awkward. At least Taeyong had tried to make a joke about this already.

Doyoung mindlessly sighed. Although Taeyong didn't say anything weird, what if he tries to win you again this time?

“Did everything go well with Taeyong?” you asked, distracting him and snapping him out of his own thinking.

Getting a yes or no question from you had never been easier. “Yeah, of course,” he quickly answered. Without even thinking.

“I'm glad to hear that.” Soon you joined him on the couch with his toast.

He silently finished the toast, whereas you occupied yourself watching TV beside him. It was oddly quiet. Although you did wonder what might happen with Doyoung, and particularly how his conversation went with Taeyong, you didn't ask him. You didn't tell him what happened when you met Taeyong the other night either. Not telling each other might be a wise choice. Yet not even a single thought crossed your mind that he felt bothered by the fact you and Taeyong had made up.

“Let's go to sleep.” Doyoung got up and put the plate on the sink. He sent you off to the bedroom first.

You had settled under the blanket on the bed while Doyoung was brushing his teeth. Your eyes were shut, trying to sleep but Doyoung's arms sneaking to your waist made you startled and flinched that you abruptly opened your eyes again.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” he softly muttered. His fingers traced your hairline and tucked some hair strands behind your ear.

“No,” you mumbled, repositioning your head as you could feel his attempt to shift closer to you.

You wanted to close your eyes again. Yet the way Doyoung intensely stared at you made you uneasy, you had to look away or look at the striped pattern of his pajamas. A part of you was afraid of what he might do if you close your eyes, particularly in this position where you were locked around his arms.

“Do you regret anything until now?”

You squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Why would I?”

Because there is another man who loves you unconditionally and selflessly. He can make you happy, if you want to be with him. Because he is Lee Taeyong.

Doyoung didn't answer you back. Instead he was brushing your hair gently. Until his hand stopped at the back of your neck. "Just because," he said, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. Then he continued to peck your blushing cheek. He inhaled before he moved closer until his lips were only few centimeters away from yours. “Can I?” he whispered.

You gulped. Your heart was beating like crazy.

This guy was not kidding when he said there is no turning back.

You were contemplating whether to say yes or no. In your mind, both answers would result in awkward outcomes. What happened to 'living with a friend' and 'a roommate sharing a house with'? What kind of roommate who is a friend that do this such an intimate thing?

Oh, wait. Right. Kim Doyoung was not just a friend anymore.

Your eyes were quivering, slightly glancing back and forth at his eyes, his nose, then his lips. Meanwhile he was patiently waiting for your permission, staying still at where he was. You had no idea how your facial expression looked like in his eyes. Was it confused expression? Or maybe terrified? Or even disgusted? That he finally said, “It's okay if I can't.” with a little smile made you even more puzzled. Yet the courage in you suddenly popped up.

"It's not that you can't..." you shyly and hesitantly mumbled, your fist slightly cover your mouth.

The smile on Doyoung's face was getting bigger. “Then it means I can?”

“You said you wanted.. to.. try again..” You couldn't believe you said that. Never had you wanted to be buried alive, or suffocated yourself against the pillow due to embarrassment like this.

Moving away from your neck, his hand reached yours and squeezed it a bit to make it more relaxed. He gestured to guide your hand to hold on to his slim waist, or his back if you wanted. “We're taking it slow, okay?” he whispered as his palm found the back of your neck again. As he leaned in closer, you closed your eyes in panic, just like the first time. You would just let him take the lead because you were already dying from being embarrassed although this is not the first time.

In seconds, his lips finally met yours. Properly, this time. It was a gentle kiss, not particularly a short one since he took a good time to feel the softness of your lips. As if he wanted to preserve the taste of your lips, and at the same time, he wanted you to remember the shape of his lips too. Along with the feelings and the quiet atmosphere when you were just focusing on each other. It was far from a passionate or a hungry kiss as he didn't want to scare you. At least he was hoping it was good enough to make you get used to this.

You almost forgot how to breathe, having no idea how long the kiss lasted. It felt like forever honestly, although it didn't mean you found the kiss awful, or unpleasant. It was just weird to kiss, to be kissed romantically by your very own friend. Maybe you should try to get rid of this kind of thoughts, especially Doyoung will be your husband in a matter of weeks.

He finally released your lips for a breathe of air. Yet he didn't shift away as he still had his nose and forehead against yours. “How was it? Not very bad for the second time, right?”

Unable to look at him in the eyes, you curled your body and buried your face, snuggling against his chest. “Stop asking how it was right away after we did it,” you whined, giving playful slaps while he chuckled at your reaction.

[thetailorofenbizaka]

Chapter 1–The Tale of the Scissors, Act 6: Past Life; Scene 4

The Tailor of Enbizaka, pages 138-143

Those peaceful days continued for a little while.

No new murders occurred, but neither was Mei and Miku’s killer captured…Time simply flowed onwards.

Kayo and Kokutan-douji continued on a temporary life of mother and child. Kokutan was embarrassed to be living with her as a freeloader, and so would frequently help out Kayo with her work.

“Thank you. You’re very good with your hands, Ren.”

In practice, despite the fact that he had told her that he’d never sewn before in his life, Douji showed considerable skill at it.

“I’m surprised myself. I didn’t think I’d be so good at sewing things.”

“You’re particularly able when it comes to handling foreign clothes. I’m quite ignorant on those, so I’m very grateful for that. …Now the tailor shop will be secure even when I’m gone.”

“Don’t say things like that. I’ve still got a lot to learn, and besides which everyone still comes to the tailor shop looking for you to fulfill their requests.”

Looking at it from the side, they appeared to be a true mother and child, sitting together in harmony.

I was of the impression that Kayo had begun to smile much more often than before.

“Oi, is Kokutan—I mean, uh, Ren here?”

Still engendering his usual atmosphere of thoughtless optimism, Inukichi had come by to visit.

“Yo, Inukichi.”

“You look hard at work. Feels like you’re really the son of a tailor now, eh?”

He had already come to visit the tailor shop like this many times before, and so Kayo was acquainted with him.

“My my, Inukichi. Welcome.”

“Good day, Kayo-san. …Here you are.”

Inukichi handed something to Kayo.

“What’s this?”

“Apparently it’s the specialty of this foreign country—I think called Lucifenia. It’s called br…bri-something?”

“Goodness, thank you. …Well then, I’ll go prepare some tea,” Kayo said, retiring to the back of the house with the “bri-something”.

Douji continued sewing and asked Inukichi, “How have things been going for you, Inukichi?”

“Ah…Can’t seem to get anywhere,” Inukichi replied with a frown. “Bufuko-chan is way more serious than I thought. She won’t even turn her head for me.”

“Er, that’s not really what I was asking about…”

“You mean my job? Well, for that I’m always going out to the sea for something or other. To look for that mermaid.”

“A mermaid…Never thought I’d hear that name again here.”

“I don’t know if it’s the same mermaid that you met in Momogengou….But maybe if we catch it and are able to talk to it, we’ll be able to get some new info on your mother. So with that in mind I’ve decided to work real hard at fishing. …And they pay pretty well too, these Freezis Foundation Firm people!”

Inukichi pumped his fist excitedly.

“Thanks, Inukichi.”

“Well, looking at you it seems like you might not need me to. You could just keep living with Kayo-san as her kid, couldn’t you?”

“…Maybe so.”

Douji stopped working and aimlessly looked up to the ceiling.

“…I feel like I’m mistaken in something.”

“Mistaken in what? Doesn’t Kayo-san fit the mermaid’s description of your mother right down to the letter?”

“That’s just it. –Is this ‘thing that I have to do’…really to find my mother in the first place?”

“Hey hey, it’s a little late for that now. That’d mean that coming to Onigashima was a big waste of time.”

“Coming here to Onigashima…I don’t think that in itself was a mistake. When we first arrived here, I felt very strongly that there was something here. But whether or not that was Kayo-san…I just can’t be sure of that.”

“Hmmm…”

Inukichi folded his arms, appearing to consider something for a moment.

Then, next he said:

“I could introduce you to her, I guess.”

“Her?”

“There’s this missionary named Elluka at the Freezis Foundation Firm. Apparently she’s this awesome person who’s saved the hearts and minds of many people in Evillious and Maistia. And I also hear she can do some sorta strange arts or something.”

“…That sounds a bit shady. A missionary? I’ve got no interest in foreign religion, you know.”

“Don’t say that. The proof’s in the pudding, man. Maybe you’ll find out something just by hearing what she has to say. I guess she’s sick or something because she’s always resting, but lately her health’s been picking up and she’ll go on walks outside occasionally—Right now you’ll probably be able to meet her by the trading house.”

“Can I not meet her inside the trading house?”

“I can get in fine, but you’re an outsider, so…I dunno.”

“…Well, I guess nothing’ll start by sitting here thinking about it. Alright. I’ll go meet with this Elluka.”

“Oh, really? Well then, let’s get—”

“Before that, though, let’s have some food.”

The very next moment, Kayo appeared from the back carrying a plate with tea and the sliced “bri-something”.

“Come now, eat up.”

At Kayo’s encouragement, Douji and Inukichi both put the “bri-something” into their mouths.

“Mm, this is good.”

“Delicious.”

As she smiled and watched the two of them eat, Kayo once more stood up.

“Alright then, I’ll be heading to Oyuka-san’s place for a bit of business. So please watch the shop while I’m gone.”

“Alright…Oh, but,” Douji told Kayo a little awkwardly, “We were also planning to head out soon.”

“Is that so? Well, I don’t mind that. Just make sure you properly fasten the doors before you leave.”

So saying, Kayo put on her footwear and headed outside.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[igrublocal]

The Takeout’s fantasy food draft: Best pumpkin spice items

Takeout DraftTakeout DraftFood. Fantasy sports. Debating over Slack. Welcome to The Takeout Draft.

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Every week, we will select a topic of conversation from the food and drink world. Takeout writers will then field a team via the snake draft format. After five rounds, The Takeout commenteriat will vote on who they believe was victorious in that week’s draft. At the end of 2020, the staffer with the most weekly victories will select a charity of his/her choice that The Takeout will make a donation toward. (The 2019 victor, Kate Bernot, selected the U.S. Bartenders’ Guild National Charity Foundation.)

The previous  drew many passionate voters who were more than ready to reminisce about summers past. After a tight race throughout the first day of votes, Aimee Levitt pulled ahead and scored a well-earned victory with expert picks like garlic fries and lemon slushie (as well as an unexpected swerve toward lobster rolls in the final round). Congrats, Aimee!

This week’s draft is nothing if not seasonal, and it’s equally likely to delight and disgust you: Best pumpkin spice items. Is this a joke? Maybe. Are we about to take our Draft duties very, very seriously? Absolutely.

G/O Media may get a commission

Now let’s cozy up to fall’s coziest flavor.

Marnie: Okay, let’s kick it off with the acknowledgment that Aimee winning the Best Ballpark Food draft is appropriate, since she’s the biggest (only?) baseball fan of the three of us.

Allison: Everybody loves hot dogs.

Marnie: And garlic fries. This Draft will be tough to win people over with. But Allison’s got first crack at it.

Allison: Wait... I have the first pick? I can’t remember the last time this happened! I’m so overwhelmed!

Marnie: Use it wisely

Allison: Alright, so obviously my first pick has to be the iconic pumpkin spice latte. It’s the crossover item that made us a pumpkin-crazy nation.

Marnie: OF COURSE

Allison: Once upon a time, back in the Dark Ages, coffee and pie were two entirely separate things. No one had dreamed they could be together in one cup.

It changed the way we see everything. There would be no Cronut without pumpkin spice lattes. No sushi burritos. Why have one when you can have both?

Marnie: Do you think its popularity is deserved?

Allison: I am a devoted black coffee drinker, and I still get a PSL whenever the first crisp day of fall arrives, and one on Thanksgiving morning.

Allison: I don’t know how anyone could drink them regularly, but they’re a nice treat. And, nowadays, a good reason to get out of the house.

Going out to get a PSL is not an errand. It’s an event.

You need a special outfit that includes a soft sweater, and maybe a scarf. You need to inform everyone you know on social media before, during, and after.

Marnie: That would have been my first pick too. So now I’m in a lurch. But I’ll say Pumpkin Spice Tea. Because we always talk about how it’s really just spices like clove and nutmeg and cinnamon, and those are nice in a warm drink beyond coffee.

This photo of a cheese-stuffed pumpkin in Always Add Lemon is enough to make you kick yourself for…

Allison: You know, I don’t know if I’ve ever tried this. How does it differ from chai?

Marnie: It’s probably just like any number of other warm spiced teas, just with pumpkiny marketing. But Trader Joe’s “Pumpkin Spice Rooibos” tin is adorable, dammit!

Aimee: Of course it is.

Marnie: I fall for it every time. And it’s not as sweet as a PSL.

Aimee: Well, few things are. But maybe if you dumped in a few tablespoons of sugar?

Allison: Or actual pumpkin...

Aimee: That would spoil it! It’s about the SPICE!

Allison: What about blending pumpkin with maple syrup, and putting a spoonful of that in your tea?

Aimee: Huh. That could either be really good or amazingly terrible.

Marnie: TBD.... First pick, Aimee?

Aimee: Pumpkin bread!

Marnie: Oh damn, of course

Allison: There has never been a day where a pumpkin bread has been in front of me and I didn’t eat the whole thing.

Aimee: I especially love the recipe in Joy of Cooking. It’s sweet and spicy and perfect.

Marnie: The “spicy” makes all the difference. I think it should make your nose wrinkle a little.

Aimee: But I also love the pumpkin challah in . I made a couple last week and they make the best French toast.

Allison: I used to make a pumpkin brioche and use it to make bread pudding. It was pretty damn amazing.

Marnie: You were born for this draft

Aimee: I was actually torn between waffles and pancakes, but I love waffles more, so that’s what I’m going with.

Allison: I have not had these either, and am wondering how these particular waffles have been pumpkin spiced.

Is there pumpkin in the batter? Poured on top?

Aimee: In the batter, and mixed with the ginger, cinnamon, and cloves.

Marnie: Does it need cream cheese drizzle on top to really sing?

Aimee: Oooooh, yes, that’s genius!

Allison: I’m thinking of the recipe I did last year for butternut squash pavlova, but making the topping with pumpkin and putting it on a stack of Belgian waffles.

Marnie: Aimee’s double whammy of delicious pumpkin spice carbs has me reeling. How can my second pick compete?

Aimee: I believe in you!

Marnie: I will say pumpkin spice Cheerios. Getting to drink pumpkin spice cereal milk is a lovely way to start the day.

And it’s a nice contrast with all the hot pumpkin spice stuff we usually eat and drink

Allison: Oh GODDAMNIT that was my pick!

Marnie: HA!

Allison: I was apprehensive about buying that, but I had to because of the pumpkin spice bet I have with my husband. When we tried them, the Cheerios made the milk taste like pumpkin pie custard.

Allison: We bought like 20 boxes so we could enjoy them all winter. It was a fine decision.

Marnie: Allison, what’ll you choose now that I’ve swooped into the cereal space?

Allison: I’m going to take pumpkin spice ice cream, much for the reason you picked the Cheerios—it’s a nice cold option, in contrast to the PSL and so many other pumpkin spice’d foods.

Aimee: With caramel sauce and lots of whipped cream! Maybe pecans?

Marnie: Ooo, any particular brand?

Allison: Remember those Talenti layer things I love? They’ve got a pumpkin pie one now with pie crust and stuff.

Marnie: DAMN I want to try that

Allison: What’s also nice: we’re all so ready for fall the second Labor Day is over, but it’s still hot. And even though it’s hot, I’m STILL wearing a cute jacket outside, out of principle.

Marnie: True. We need pumpkiny items for the last legs of summer

Aimee: With the hot sun of summer but the cool breeze of fall...

Allison: I anticipate eating a LOT of ice cream over the next five weeks or so.

Next up: pumpkin pie toaster strudel. You can debate the need for pumpkin spice-anything all you want, but when you see pumpkin toaster strudel, it’s like “this makes perfect sense”

There’s nothing to quibble about. It’s a thing, and it should be a thing.

Aimee: This is true. It’s like a pie.

Allison: If anything, the pumpkin spice latte walked so that pumpkin spice toaster strudel could run.

Aimee: That’s beautiful. Brought a tear to my eye. (Pumpkin spiced tear, of course.)

Marnie: Only major downside of toaster strudel is that you absolutely have to warm it, whereas a Pop-Tart is flexible and can be eaten room temp. But a warm toaster strudel really is amazing

Allison: What I don’t like about pumpkin Pop Tarts is that they should be better. It’s like, if Pop Tarts respected us, it could be amazing. But they don’t. They phone it in.

Aimee: I feel that way about most Pop Tarts.

Marnie: Okay, my third pick might be....controversial. But hear me out: pumpkin pie

Aimee: Ha ha!

Marnie: The original pumpkin spice item

Aimee: It’s true! It’s so obvious, no one even thinks of it anymore. Someone should call it pumpkin spice pie.

Allison: Pumpkin pie is one of my favorite “bed pies.” Have I told you about that concept?

Marnie: Sounds self-explanatory

Allison: I wrote about it a few years ago. It’s essentially a family bonding experience where we all stay in bed and eat an entire pie together from the pan while watching old cartoons, like Garfield’s Halloween and Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Pumpkin is ideal for this.

Allison: The filling isn’t going to plop out all over the sheets. And the crust isn’t ultra crumbly

Aimee: Ah, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have bits of fruit falling all over the sheets.

Allison: If made well, you can pick up a slice of pumpkin pie and eat it with your hands. Just like pizza (non-folded, of course). I very much encourage both of you to try this.

Aimee: And you can squirt the whipped cream directly into your mouth. No mess!

Allison: You understand me, Levitt!

Marnie: AIMEE

Aimee: Rolled in lots of cinnamon sugar.

Marnie: STOP TAKING THE GOOD THINGS WHILE I FAIL TO THINK OF THEM

THAT’S....CHEATING, SOMEHOW

Allison: I have not had a good doughnut in a while, and now it’s all I can think about.

Marnie: So just to be clear, we’re not talking about a filled doughnut

More like a cider doughnut, but pumpkinified?

Aimee: Well, I suppose you could... but yes, I was thinking of the cakey doughnuts. I love cider doughnuts so much.

Marnie: Yes please

Aimee: Oh, yes. With a variation for the stove!

Allison: Here’s your variation for the stove: fry it in hot oil just like any other doughnut. There ya go.

Aimee: My next pick is pumpkin spice oatmeal. With lots of brown sugar.

Marnie: Interesting—does it come in that flavor or do you add the spices to make it that way?

Aimee: Quaker does make that flavor, but I’ll bet you could just add the pumpkin spice if you want to do homemade.

My philosophy is that anything that tastes good with cinnamon would also taste good with pumpkin spice.

Marnie: Yes, I can’t imagine anyone being all in on cinnamon but out on nutmeg. Cloves? Mayyyyybe divisive. But it all seems to speak to the same palate

Aimee: Warming spices!

Allison: And it’s coldest in the morning! This is science.

Marnie: How does the pumpkin factor in if you make it yourself? Pumpkin puree right in there with the oats?

Aimee: The beauty of pumpkin spice is that there doesn’t have to be pumpkin. Only spice: the blend of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, and cloves.

Allison: Yup! You can just stir it right in, with a bit of spice, and maybe some maple syrup to sweeten.

Marnie: I’m going to try to court the CPG crowd with a busy, on-the-go pumpkin spice item: the Spiced Pumpkin Pie CLIF Bar

Allison: Never eaten this! I had a Clif bar once in the early 2000s, and that was the end of that.

Marnie: Yeah, you either love them or hate them. I love that they actually feel substantial, like you just had breakfast. Regular granola bars never make me feel that way. And the Pumpkin Pie CLIF Bar comes with a drizzle of icing that, in my opinion, could stand to be paired with a lot more pumpkin spice items.

Pairs great with coffee! People are going to hate me for this but it’s my truth!

Aimee: That’s fine. You have every right to it.

Marnie: Aimee, do you have a firm stance on CLIF bars?

Aimee: I do not because I’ve never had one.

Marnie: I somehow think you’d despise them.

Aimee: I think so, too, which is why I’ve never had one.

Marnie: Last two picks, Allison!

Allison: Alright — my fourth pick is pumpkin butter. What makes this so great is it has the power to make anything into pumpkin spice.

Marnie: Here’s my question with pumpkin butter: what does it work best on? I can never figure out what to apply it to

Allison: You can stir a spoonful into your oatmeal, or put it on ice cream, or into your coffee or tea. Literally anything.

Warm milk! Pancakes! Toast!

Serve it with pork chops, smear it on cookies or graham crackers.

Marnie: Has an application ever failed spectacularly??

Aimee: This is like the shrimp scene in Forrest Gump.

Allison: ^^^and shrimp is a bad place to use apple butter.

But if you don’t know how to restrain yourself when feeding yourself pumpkin butter you should just stop cooking. Let other people do it for you. You can’t be trusted.

Allison: Very! I shared my super-easy apple butter recipe here last fall. You can do that with cubed pumpkin, or canned. As always, just keep an eye on things, because it’s all visual cues on that one. The line between apples and pumpkins in fall desserts is very thin.

I don’t believe that apple butter needs to be a fussy, complicated thing to make. You shouldn’t…

Marnie: That’s a good utility pick and I feel like the voters will reward you for it.

Unless you mess it all up on the last pick.....

Allison: Don’t think I am, because I’m reaching into my personal back catalog again and going with . You know me and pudding.

Marnie: Picking your OWN RECIPE on the final round is A POWER MOVE

Allison: Damn straight it is.

Marnie: I begrudgingly respect this decision

Please tell us what makes it a worthy pick, for those of us who haven’t tasted its majesty yet

Allison: Pumpkin pudding is much creamier and luxurious than pie! And easier to make, in a way. You don’t need to fuss with the oven, and don’t need to worry about making a pie crust. I make a pie crust better than anyone, and honestly do enjoy the process, but it adds a good amount of time to the process.

Sometimes you’re okay with waiting a few hours for pie. And sometimes you’re like “I want pumpkin something within the hour,” and this is what can get you there.

Marnie: A shortcut to immediate pumpkin spice intake is key

Allison: Exactly. There’s a ton of variables I consider when coming up with recipes.

One of them being “how long do I have to wait before I eat this dessert”

Aimee: That’s always an important one.

Marnie: Sometimes you don’t need to consider cook time at all. Because sometimes the thing you want is not edible in the least. Folks, my last pick is a pumpkin spice candle. To make EVERY room in the house smell delicious, not just the kitchen!

Aimee: Ha ha!

Marnie: It is a far-reaching, long-lasting pumpkin spice item. Perhaps the most cost-effective, too.

Aimee: AND if you don’t like pumpkin, it’s still mostly a pleasurable experience.

Marnie: A signal of the changing seasons! Coziness incarnate. People of all palates can agree on smells, can’t they?

Allison: I believe I have at least ten of these in my house right now.

Even if it’s not fall outside, it can be fall inside, whenever you damn well please. You guys need to try lighting up one of those bad boys in April and see how that changes you.

Aimee: As long as they’re not those cinnamon brooms. I don’t know why, but they annoy the crap out of me.

Allison: What are these cinnamon brooms? Another midwest thing?

Aimee: They sell them at Trader Joe’s. They’re in the front where you first walk in, with the pumpkins and the plants, so you can’t avoid them.

Marnie: They look sort of sinister

Aimee: Exactly. They’d be good for witches, but they smell like cinnamon which is somehow not exactly witchy.

Anyway, last pick goes to Aimee! What’s it gonna be?

Aimee: My last pick is... pumpkin spice cotton candy. Mostly because I would really like to find out if you can taste the spices.

Marnie: Does.....does it exist outside of your mind?

This is the first time I’ve really thought about cotton candy having a flavor. Isn’t it usually just sugar, in technicolor?

Allison: I do not like cotton candy, and yet I want to try this.

Aimee: Once I tried a rosé cotton candy and it tasted like rosé if you did the taste equivalent of squinting.

These people are geniuses!

Marnie: I’m excited to let this Takeout Draft loose upon the world.

Aimee: Because no one is tired of pumpkin spice yet!

Who won this week’s Takeout Draft? Vote in the comments.

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

A One Shot Series - Peter Parker/OC

Word Count: 3,446

Warnings: Heights?

MASTERLIST | PREV | Four

Smart lasted about a week. 

Peter hadn’t done it one purpose. He was just trying to keep his spidering random. Sometimes that meant going down one street. Sometimes that meant going down another. And yes, sometimes that meant swinging past Delmar’s. And when he did, sometimes he would happen to glance as Yasmin’s window. Sometimes she was there. Most times she wasn’t. However, there was one thing that was becoming something of a constant. 

He’d tried to ignore it the first time. He’d paused to take a breath on the opposite building, definitely not checking the windows to see if Yasmin was home or working. And he was about to speed off again when he spared a second glance at her room. Outside the window, in the empty flower bed, was another paper snack bag with a spider drawn on it. 

There was no way he was taking it, he told himself. He picked it up just long enough to ensure that there was nothing perishable—just more chips and granola bars—and then put it back in its place. Being Spider-Man was about helping people, doing his part to make the city a safer place for those who couldn’t protect themselves. It was not about getting free snacks and taking things from people who needed them. 

At the same time, the bag became something of a moral dilemma for him. It plagued him at night whenever he had trouble falling asleep. Was it worse to take the bag when Yasmin had no need to pay him? Or to ignore it knowing there was a good chance she was checking her window every day for the moment it disappeared? 

But her expectations didn’t matter, Peter decided. He couldn’t get close to people as Spider-Man. That was setting himself up for disaster, he knew it. Yet every time he reminded himself of that conclusion, another voice in his head would remind him that leaving the bag on her windowsill was practically putting up a poster that said, “Spider-Man might stop by one of these days.” He should probably take the bag if only to get the spider off of her window. 

With the never-ending battle raging in his head, the only thing Peter could do was ignore the problem entirely. That worked for a while, until the world decided to make his decision for him. 

 He lost his first backpack. 

Peter had no idea what had happened. The corner rooftop he’d been using had seemed like such a secure place! He’d never run into anyone up there, never seen another living soul. He wasn’t even sure how building occupants were supposed to access the roof. All he knew was that he’d stashed his backpack away after marching band, and when he’d come back at the end of the night, it had vanished. 

Aunt May had not been pleased. 

“What on Earth were you doing with it?” she demanded. 

“I’m sorry! You know, I was just—I was running to get to band practice, and the strap caught on—on a door, and the seams just—chrt! The—The whole thing just like fell apart.” 

“Well, why don’t you just give it to me? I can see if I can sew it back together.” 

“I kinda…threw it out…” 

“Peter!” 

“I panicked! My stuff was everywhere. I was running late. Look, I don’t need to replace anything in my backpack. I just need a new one. Any one.” 

Another lie. He hadn’t lost anything too valuable though. His textbooks had been in his locker, so the only thing he really had to worry about was redoing the work that he’d lost and borrowing some of Ned’s notes. If he skipped out on his spideroute for a few days, he should be able to make it up. He’d need new pens and a protractor—thank God he hadn’t lost the graphing calculator—but he’d also lost all the lunch money he’d had for the week. No way was he asking May for more. 

So very early before school, he swung by the bodega and snatched the bag from her window. He left a web on the grate as an afterthought, just so she could be sure it hadn’t been an overachieving pigeon. And the next time he’d gone by, there was already a brand new bag in its place. 

After one dumb decision, the rest followed like dominoes. I mean, really, he didn’t have enough lunch money for the week, so it wouldn’t be too bad if he took another bag to school. He just had to take it out of the spider bag first. And he stopped another robbery at a jewelry store, which was a pretty big deal, so he kind of deserved a bag of chips. And tomorrow they were serving spaghetti on the lunch line, and everyone knew that eating the school tomato sauce was always a gamble, so it was safer if he just stuck with his snack bag. 

But the guilt was starting to eat at him again. So as soon as it was dark enough, Peter made his way over to the bodega and scaled down from the roof. The light was on behind Yasmin’s curtains. If he listened closely, he could hear her humming as she sat on her bed. He cleared his throat and knocked on the glass. 

The humming stopped immediately. He was actually impressed by how quickly she managed to part the curtains and get the window open. Then he was staring upside down at her blinding smile. 

“Hi,” she stage-whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, midnight snack?” He lifted up the bag she’d left out for him, and revealed the second paper bag he’d brought along. “Wanna split it?” 

“O-Okay. But um…I mean, what happened to staying undercover?” 

“Well, I was kind of thinking we could eat up here?” 

“Up…?” She blinked at him for a few seconds before her eyes shot to the ceiling. “On—On the roof?” 

“Uh, yeah. This way we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing, and you don’t make yourself a target.” 

“Why would I be a target?” 

“Cause you’re hanging out with me. If the bad guys know that I’m talking to you they could use you to get to me or something.” 

“Bad guys?” she echoed, almost smirking. “Spider-Man, unless there’s something you’re not telling anyone, the most you’ve done is stopped a couple street robberies. You’re not fighting the mafia.” 

“Yet,” he countered, jabbing a finger at her. “I just want to be safe. O-Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. We don’t have to.” 

“No, it’s fine, I just uh…I don’t actually know how to get onto the roof.” 

Behind his goggles, Peter grinned. 

“Give me two seconds. Grab a sweatshirt, okay?” 

He scaled back up the wall, depositing the two lunch bags on the other side of the ledge. Inspecting the cement, he shot a stream of web onto the ground and yanked on it to test the weight. It shouldn’t be too hard. He only had to make it a couple of feet anyway. 

“Spider-Man?” 

Yasmin was peeking up at him out of her window. Peter dropped the makeshift rope down to her, where it brushed against the sill. He got far too much enjoyment from the panicked look on her face. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

“Don’t worry,” he laughed. “This is just a precaution. You trust me?” 

“Well…yeah. But I’m starting to think I shouldn’t.” 

Peter knew it wasn’t polite to laugh. He kept a grip on the edge of the building and threw the rest of his body down to her, offering his other hand. Nervous as she looked, she slipped out of her window and reached up to grab it. 

 It was both easier and harder than he’d expected. Yasmin was just as tall as he was, which meant a considerable amount of weight. He’d never deadlifted anything as heavy as a whole person before, but with his new spider-strength, it wasn’t as much work as he’d thought. On the other hand, the weight of two entire people was more stress on his stickiness than he’d been prepared for. He slipped down about an inch before he recovered. Yasmin gasped, her feet frantically looking for her window box again, but Peter held her tight. 

“Woah, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I got you.” 

He hauled her up, switching her from his arm to his back. She gripped at his shoulders for her life, face buried in the folds of his hoodie. Peter blushed, but scaled the rest of the wall without a problem. 

“Okay, you’re good. See? Easy peasy.” 

Yasmin was slow to retract her arms, though both their feet were on the ground again. She wobbled, and Peter grabbed her arm again. Just to be safe, he eased her down into a sitting position. 

“Sorry. Uh—not easy peasy? I didn’t mean um…are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I just…” 

“Is it the height? I am so sorry. If—If you try and think about it, we’re not that much higher than your room! And I promise I’m not gonna let you fall. We can sit in the middle of the roof if you want, and that way…” 

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Her voice was still shaky, but her lips pulled into an uneasy smile. “Believe it or not, it’s the dangling over the street by a stranger’s neck. Not the height.” 

“Uh…right…” 

“I guess we should still move to the middle of the roof though. Just so no one sees us.” 

She took one more look out at the street before moving, and Peter let her lead the way. He plopped down next to her, back to the rumbling generator, and held up the two paper bags. He’d drawn a lopsided smiley face on hers to match. 

“Swap ya? I didn’t know what you liked, so I just guessed. I hope you’re not allergic to peanut butter.” 

Peter watched, holding his breath as Yasmin unpacked her lunch bag—PB&J, pretzels, fruit cup, pudding cup, and two little juice boxes. She hid her face in hands, and resurfaced with a grin. 

“I feel like I’m in the second grade!” 

“Is that bad?” 

“Definitely not,” she assured him. “You want half of this? I feel bad you don’t have a sandwich.” 

He accepted half of the PB&J, though it took him a few more seconds to process. Yasmin was already taking her first few bites, and Peter frowned at his sandwich through his mask. “I…really did not think this through…” 

“Wha—? Oh.” Yasmin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shifting nervously. “Um…I could turn around if you want? We could sit back to back. That way I can’t see you.” 

Peter was hesitant. Coming here had been a bad idea in the first place, and now he was going to risk letting her find out who he was? Who he really was? He wasn’t insane. 

But Yasmin couldn’t see his nerves through the mask. She was already turning around, her legs folded neatly under her with no sign of looking back. Peter scooted back against her, pulling up the mask just enough to free his mouth. 

“No peeking, okay?” he said urgently. “Seriously. No matter how curious you are.” 

“I promise.” 

And for whatever reason, Peter believed her. Maybe he was insane after all. 

They ate in comfortable silence, the distant traffic and radios of passing cars creating a gentle hum in the night. Yasmin still jolted at sudden noises, but not as much as she had been a week or two prior. None of it fazed Peter. He could barely taste the peanut butter he was eating. He was too hyper-aware of Yasmin’s lower back pressed against his own. She was shivering, and he felt bad for dragging her out into the winter air so late at night, but neither of them made any motion to move. 

“Hey,” said Yasmin, breaking the silence with a rustle of her bag, “why is there a used scratch off in here?” 

“Oh yeah, that’s one of the ones you gave me. I won like twenty bucks, so I figured I’d give it back.” 

“Why? That’s why I gave it to you.” 

“Well, I can’t cash it in as Spider-Man, and if I showed up with that without the mask then you’d know who I was.” 

“Okay. Why don’t you just cash it in someplace else?” 

Peter took a few gulps from his water to buy himself time. He was going to circle back around to the ‘I-don’t-want-your-money’ defense, but Yasmin spoke first. 

“Unless, um…can you even cash this?” 

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Sorry, just…don’t take this the wrong way, you just seem kind of…small…” 

“Hey! I—I am not small!” 

“You know what I mean,” she said with a small laugh. “Your size, your voice, the way you talk. You come off as younger as the average superhero. I can’t exactly imagine Iron Man going around passing out sandwiches to random teenagers, you know?” 

“No, I don’t know that,” he said defensively. Yasmin shoved him slightly with her back, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, maybe not Tony Stark, but uh…what about Captain America? He would definitely be the kind of hero to hand out homemade sandwiches.” 

“No, Captain America would not pass out PB&Js. He would work in a soup kitchen, or come to your assembly to serve you a hot lunch.” 

“Well, it’s the one thing that can always give you an edge.” 

Peter snickered at his reference, and Yasmin did too. But when she spoke, her voice was willed with vindication. 

“I knew it.” 

“You—uh—huh?” 

“You’re young,” she clarified. “They didn’t start showing those videos in school until 2013, after the Battle of New York. So at most you’re, what? Twenty-two?” 

“What? No, I’m uh—shit, that’s…” 

 Peter open and closed his mouth a couple of times, quickly doing to the math in his head. He’d been an idiot. He’d just walked right into that one, not fifteen minutes after he’d told himself staying was going to be a bad idea. His stomach clenched. 

“You’re really smart,” he sighed, hopelessly. 

“Not really. I guess I’ve just um…put a lot of thought into it.” 

He ignored the ill-timed pang of excitement that sent through his chest. 

“Listen, Yasmin, you—you can’t tell anybody that, okay?” 

“What, that you’re young?” 

“Any of this. Anything you know about me makes it easier to narrow down who I am, and—I just really don’t want anyone to know that.” 

“Okay. I—I’m sorry.” 

Her voice was quiet. Despite the seriousness of the whole thing, he kind of felt guilty. He wanted to spend time with her—impossibly—but it was hard to do that without giving himself away. And yeah, he didn’t want to tell anyone that he was Spider-Man just yet. He didn’t have the luxury that came with honesty like Tony Stark did. If he told people, they’d treat him different. He might have to move, or get sent to scientists so they could do weird tests on him and stuff. 

But another part of him was keeping silent for a different reason. What would a girl like Yasmin say when she found out the guy who saved her hadn’t been some cool Tony Stark in disguise? He was just a nerd who build computers and couldn’t speak to her without a mask. Not exactly heroic. 

“Just…nothing else about me, okay?” he said, his voice softening. 

“Sure,” she agreed. “But um…what about this you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, what about Spider-Man? Can I ask about him?” 

Peter frowned, picking at his bag of chips. “What do you wanna know?” 

“I don’t know. Where did he come from? Have you always been able to like…climb walls and stuff?” 

“No, um…actually this is all pretty recent. A couple months now.” 

“And you just woke up like that?” 

“I got bit a spider. Hence…everything.” 

“Oh my God, seriously?” she gasped. “You got a bug bite and just…woke up with superpowers? What if I get bit by a mosquito and become like a supervillain?” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Peter laughed. “It wasn’t just a random spider. It was like a super-spider. They were doing some kind of radioactive testing and…this is what happened.” 

“So what can you do? I know you can stick to walls. It looks like you’ve got some kind of super strength or super agility or something. Unless you’ve always done gymnastics.” 

“Ha, uh, definitely not. Most of it is just like…heightened senses? It’s like everything’s more intuitive now. I can tell if something’s wrong or if someone’s in some kind of danger, but it also means my reflex time is like a fraction of what it used to be. I can jump, I can catch, I can dodge. Like my body just knows what to do without me telling it to. So now I can do sick backflips and stuff.” 

“And that stuff you shoot, does that like come out of you or…?” 

“Ew, no. Gross.” 

“Well what do you expect? Spiders make the silk for their webs, right? That’s not a weird question.” 

“No, I get it, but—no. I make this on my own. Like chemically. I mean I designed it.” 

It was silent for a few seconds. Behind him, Yasmin was very still. 

“You…chemically designed your own super-webs?” 

“Yeah. And the web shooters. I wear them on my wrists with like a cartridge for the web? And when I press the triggers there’s a contained reaction inside the chamber—that’s what propels the web. It took me a couple weeks, but I’m really starting to get a lot more comfortable with them now. And depending how I press the trigger and I can get different kinds of streams! So like if I do it one way I can make this rope-kind of effect, and if I do it a different way I get the wide-spread kind of net, like when I tried to fix your door. I really want to work more on the web-life, so I can control how long they take to dissolve. Eventually I wanna build a control onto the shooters, but for now I’m just sort of guestimating, so…” 

Peter flushed, silently banging the heels of his hands against his head. 

“Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s fine! I mean, I barely understand half of what you’re saying but…you did all of this by yourself?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?” 

“Cause that’s…crazy impressive.” She giggled, the sound filling Peter with a comfortable warmth. “You’re must be some kind of baby genius. I mean, I figured you’d been set up with fancy gadgets by some investor like Tony Stark or something. One of your superhero friends.” 

“I don’t have superhero friends,” he said quickly. “I’m—I’m not even really a superhero.” 

“Well you save people, and you have superpowers. Aren’t those the only two requirements?” 

“I guess, but…you know, it’s like you said. I’m fighting robbers, saving cats. It’s not like I’m taking on the mafia, or terrorists. I can do these things, but I don’t feel like I’m a hero.” 

They sank into silence again. Peter gnawed on his bottom lip, even as she comfortingly leaned against him. He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to be like Iron Man and Captain America and the rest of the Avengers. And maybe he could someday. He just needed the opportunity to prove himself. He almost hated himself for hoping for it. For heroes, there needed to be danger, tragedy. He’d never want to openly hope for something like that to happen. But he knew that there were terrible things going on in the world, and sometimes he couldn’t help but feel frustrated that with everything he could do, the only thing he was stopping was petty theft. He wanted to do more. 

“Nope,” said Yasmin suddenly, shaking her head. “No way.” 

“No?” Peter asked. “No what?” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that this time around. I’m not doing it.” 

“Doing what?” 

“The whole doe-eyed fangirl thing. You want me to say ‘well you saved my life, so you’re a hero to me,’ and I’m not gonna do it.” 

Peter laughed, really laughed. He had to cover his face for fear of being too loud, and rocked back into Yasmin as his body shook. She reached back and swatted him on the arm, still giggling herself. 

“Hey,” he managed through his chuckles. “You said it, not me.” 

“Alright. Shut it, Spider-Man.”

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TAG LIST: @lostinwonderland314 (You singlehandedly revived this, good work haha)