#grad napkins

[apogejcustomgifts]

apogej.etsy.com

[dreamwritesimagines]

Theory of Gravity

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Making small talk can be difficult with a crush.

Word Count: 1234

Genre: Fluff Oneshot

Content: Drinking, reader being awkward because she has a crush, flirting

Contrary to popular belief, snitching on the whereabouts of a very dangerous mobster in the bar you worked in and possibly getting killed or maimed in the process was not a good plan for a Friday night but to be completely honest, you had done worse things over a silly little crush.

Like back in college freshman year when you pretended to be into music biopics just so that the hot guy in your elective would think you two were meant to be.

So if anything, this was a pattern.

“Logan?” you said as you put his drink in front of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“What was Galileo like?”

He blinked a couple of times, the familiar scowl that seemed to be etched on his handsome face getting deeper and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he said. “I will lose all the belief I’ve never had in the first place in this country’s education system if you’re serious.”

You gave him a bright smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I figured it was better than asking how the public took it when Newton came up with the theory of gravity.”  

The look on his face couldn’t be described with anything but complete horror and you let out a laugh, then went to serve another customer before quickly making your way to him.

“I’m just messing with you,” you said, leaning against the bar as you stole a look at the mobster sitting by the table with his men, then to Wade who was very, very busy with Vanessa by the corner.

“You look nervous,” Logan pointed out, making your head whip up before you cleared your throat.

“Nah, not at all,” you said. “I’m just thinking that if I die tonight, I’ll die doing what I love.”

“Which is?”

Gazing at older men who couldn’t look less interested in me.

“Being surrounded by drunk people who want to give me money,” you said. “Not a bad way to go.”

He scoffed into his drink before taking a sip while you nibbled on your lip, shifting your weight.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said, his voice gruff. “We’re just waiting for his partner to show up, then we will deal with them both.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. Sure, I know.”

“Do you?”

You nodded again, absentmindedly reaching out to play with the cocktail straw on the counter, painfully aware of his gaze on you that made your face burn.

“How’s grad school?”

…He remembered.

He remembered you saying that the last time he and Wade were here.

One simple observer would’ve thought he was on his knees proclaiming his undying love for you with the way your heartbeat went insane and his eyebrows rose as if he could hear it, but you quickly casted the thought away from your mind; that was surely impossible.

“Oh it’s going well!” you said, your voice going high-pitched for a moment. “Came for the hot professors, stayed for the education—I’m joking,” you added in a haste, waving a hand in the air. “I’m a very…very deep and intellectual individual.”

“Uh huh.”

“And none of my professors are hot,” you muttered and wiped at the damp spot on the counter with a napkin. “They should put that on the brochure if you ask me, it’s important information.”

“So you’ll be a doctor?”

“If by some miracle my dissertation goes through the jury,” you pointed out. “How about you? How’s your roommate situation with Wade going?”

He only grumbled something under his breath and you bit back a smile, then topped his drink.

“Thanks sweetheart.”

If there was one thing you hated the idea of more than dying was proving Freud right but it looked like you were going two for two tonight.

“So uh,” you said, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on your arms because of his deep voice. “Hey, at least you have the place to yourself sometimes, no? When Wade is with Vanessa? Should give you some time to…bring someone home.”

And I volunteer as tribute.

He raised his brows, his unwavering gaze pinning you to your spot and you cleared your throat.

“Or—or someones,” you stammered. “Sky is the limit if you’re into that sort of thing. Now that it came up by the way, are…are you?”

“Am I bringing people home?” he asked as if he wanted to make sure that was what you were asking and you shrugged your shoulders, your face on fire.

“I’m just asking because, you know,” you began the sentence without having a clue on how you would finish it as usual. “I’m great at giving relationship advice, so if you were in a relationship I could be your own personal relationship coach.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion and you reached out to get the bowl full of peanut shells from his right just so that you could keep yourself busy, then turned the bowl over the garbage can.

“I’m not,” he said and you swallowed thickly.

“Who has the time for that these days, am I right?”

“Do you have—”

“Yes I have the time!” you cut him off, nodding your head in enthusiasm, your heart beating in your ears but he had already finished his sentence;

“…ice?”

You hoped to God tonight was the night you’d die because if that mobster in the corner didn’t shoot you, you were going to have to ask Wade to do it just to save you from this embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said after a beat as he stared at you. “Yeah—yeah I have ice, sorry.”

You rushed to get some ice and put it into his whiskey, biting inside your cheek and he cleared his throat.

“You don’t want to go out with me sweetheart.”

Well good news was that you had already made a fool of yourself so one could think the bar for your self-respect couldn’t get any lower, but boy oh boy you had already brought your metaphorical shovel.  

“I disagree,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I would very much love to if you were interested.”

“You think I’m not interested?”

“I feel like I’d have a better chance at proving you’re not interested with dates and references than my own thesis,” you pointed out. “And that’s saying something—”

“I am interested,” he cut you off, making your eyes widen and you gawked at him, frozen in your spot. “Trust me, that’s not the problem here.”

“Am I getting the I’m too dangerous for you speech?” you heard yourself ask through disbelief. “Because screw that speech. Honestly, the only thing I’m focused on in here is if you—fuck!”

He pulled his brows together. “If I—?”

“No no!” you said as you pointed at the back door where two men were dragging Wade through. “Wade!”

Logan cussed under his breath as he shot up from his stool.

“Don’t go anywhere, we’ll talk about this later,” he told you and made his way to the back door while you heaved a sigh, leaning back to the counter as he stepped outside and you caught the sight of him grabbing a man by the neck before the door slammed shut. You pressed a hand over your chest, then tilted your head back with a groan.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “That was smooth.”

[retroaria]

kiyora jin: boyfriend headcanons

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | reblogs are appreciated! | enjoy !! - aria :3

a.n - I actually am in love with kiyora jin (potential self ship ngl), enjoy this dump of kiyora brain rot. no explicit warnings.

pre-boyfriend!kiyora who sees this all as one big challenge. how long can he tease and flirt with you before one of you eventually caves. he loves the exhilaration of the chase, loves the way it keeps him on his toes and makes his heart flutter. he relishes in the butterflies that swarm around his stomach when he’s with you, and can’t help but be amused by his own nervous flirtatious ramblings.

pre-boyfriend!kiyora who takes in your personality and interests like a god damn sponge. he analyzes you, but he sees it as a bit of a game, like how excited can he get you while sparking up a conversation about your interests. he also does a quick fact check on you to ensure you can find some sort of interest in the stuff he likes as well. would take you some speakeasy underground dance studio so you can cheer him on lol.

pre-boyfriend!kiyora who doesn’t say his feelings outright but definitely isn’t afraid to show you how he feels in other ways. specifically physical touch, quality time, and more-than casual flirting. he’d wrap his arm around you, grad your hand to drag you places, let you take up his free time outside of practice, give you sweet compliments at every chance he gets.

pre-boyfriend!kiyora who eventually finds himself hanging over the edge of insanity every time he thinks about how he can’t call you his. the confession would be swift and almost nonchalant. he’s proud of his feelings for you and doesn’t feel the need to act shy about it once he’s ready. when you say yes he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face which he quickly tries to scrunch up so he isn’t cheesing at you like a dork.

boyfriend!kiyora who has an endless list of hidden gems and secluded spots that he takes you to regularly, places where you can both be alone and enjoy each others presence. he loves any date that involves food, likes going to food festivals and trying all the different food stands. definitely tries to feed you stuff and doesn’t see the problem if you tell him it might look a little weird to other people lol. “Whatever just try it, open up~” he’d scoff at you playfully.

boyfriend!kiyora who loves taking candid pictures of you! he has two separate albums in his phone, one for you looking stupid and one for you looking gorgeous. sometimes his cover is blown by the camera shutter sound from his phone and he has to quickly shove it back in his pocket, looking around like he very obviously was doing something sneaky.

boyfriend!kiyora who dedicates everything to you. if he scores a goal during a game, he looks over to you in the crowed, putting his hand up and pointing at you with a smile as he runs back into position. he makes playlists for you, (attempts to) make you food and desserts.

boyfriend!kiyora who makes silly little stick figure drawings of you two on restaurant napkins when you go out to eat. sometimes he leaves you little notes that he wrote on the back of random pieces of paper he came across, he’s a crafty boy lol.

boyfriend!kiyora who gets jealous rather easily but doesn’t outwardly act possessive about it. he tends to keep those feelings to himself, but if some other guy is really all over you he’d just thrust himself into the situation as aggressively as possible until they get the hint that you’re taken. overall, he trusts you so at the end of the day he knows he has no need to worry!

boyfriend!kiyora who secretly loves being the little spoon. having your arms around him makes him feel so special it warms his heart in a way he can’t describe. he lays his head down on your chest or in your lap whenever you guys are on the couch or in bed together. he loves holding you too but he'll take any chance he can get to be engulfed in your embrace.

divider credz: @cafekitsune

[leclercsredhelmet]

The Alchemy ♛ Charles Leclerc

A/N: Hi! I'm back after being away for a bit but I come bearing a gift! I was so unbelievably happy after Charles's Monaco win and inspired to write about so here it is!

“Honestly who are we to fight the alchemy?” 

Monaco is known for being the playground of billionaires among many things. This is the ideal destination if you want to see multi-million dollar supercars and yachts. If you are a fan of the pinnacle of motorsport then you know that the Monaco Grand Prix has been rewarded as the crowning jewel of Formula One and for great reason.

To you, Monaco was much more than a playground for the rich or the crowning jewel of your favorite sport. Monaco was home, the principality held half of your heart. You had not intended to stay here while on a trip fresh out of grad school but by fate’s hand, you now called this place home. As a formula one fan, you always dreamed of seeing the principality and walking its streets. When the opportunity arose you decided to take a little detour to visit the principality. 

Little did you know that the detour would turn into more than one visit during the summer. You were wandering the streets when you ran into your now boyfriend Charles Leclerc. Just now after a few months of dating it still sounded crazy but it was true, your favorite driver had turned into your best friend and love of your life. 

Flashback

Your camera was in hand as you marveled at Casino Square, after taking some pictures you decided to find someone who could point you in the direction of the Princess Grace Japanese Garden. Turning around you found the closest person to you, whose back happened to be facing you, and asked for directions using what little French you knew. It just happened that Charles was that person and once he turned around realization dawned on you. He looked at you and he swore he had just seen the most beautiful girl on Earth. 

He stuttered a little as he gave you directions and you were a little confused so you were just nodding along. “It seems that my French isn’t as good as I expected,” you said with a chuckle. Charles laughed, “It’s okay my English isn’t the best either which makes us even,” he said. “Considering that  I have nothing better to do and could use some peace and quiet, please let me take you,” he said kindly. 

His offer earned him a kind smile from you and a nod, smiling you decided to follow his lead. Surely he had taken you there as he offered and ended up walking through the garden with you while you chatted. “Had I known it was you I wouldn’t have disturbed you,” you said a little embarrassed. Charles looked at you and lifted an eyebrow, “It’s no trouble really, for what it’s worth I’ve had a great time, how long are you here for?” he asked. “Just today, I took a little detour from the group trip which means that I’ve got to head back soon to pack,” you said.  Charles felt his stomach drop, there was no way he was passing up a chance with a girl as beautiful as you. “Let me invite you to lunch before you leave,” he said. He looked at you and dreaded your answer but a grin spread across your face, “Consider your invitation accepted,” you said with a wink. 

He’d bought some pizza from his favorite place and invited you into his apartment where you kept chatting well into the late evening and he walked you to the train station. Unbeknownst to him you had left your number written on a napkin pinned to his bathroom mirror. 

When he found it he couldn’t help but grin and he called you, before leaving Europe you took the train and met up with him for a few hours. Weeks later you were talking and had started your early stages of dating which had to be long-distance. You decided to fly out and surprise him for the Monza Grand Prix. Once the season ended you decided to spend it with him while you waited for news of your job application to arrive. 

Charles was next to you when you found out and had been approved and you mentioned looking for a small apartment in Italy that was within distance from Monte Carlo but he asked you to move in with him instead. 

End of Flashback

“Mon amour, we have to head out!” Charles called out from somewhere in the apartment and you smiled. “Just a second! I’m almost done,” you called out as you slipped on your sandals and grabbed your bag. Meeting him by the front door he kissed you sweetly and you slung Leo’s carrier on your shoulder grabbing his leash on the other. “Who’s an excited boy!” You said as you bent down to pat Leo who was happily barking. “He represents us both,” Charles said with a smile and you grinned. “You got this chérie,” you said reassuringly, he smiled before replying, “I hope so mon amour, we can’t lose this,” he said. “And you won’t,” you added. 

You had to part ways once you left the apartment because Charles needed to get into the motorhome once he arrived. Before parting he pressed his soft lips against yours and kissed you sweetly. As he usually did he kissed your forehead making you giggle and kissed Leo’s head. 

Walking into the hospitality you were instantly greeted by Pascale, “You look gorgeous as ever darling!” Pascale gushed. “You look great as always!” You replied. Pascale kissed your cheeks diverted her attention to Leo and took him from you so you could greet Lorenzo and Charlotte. You stayed there and went down to the garages to wish Charles luck and get the headsets you were always provided with. “I love you, you got this chérie, now go bring that trophy home,” you said after you kissed him and helped him with his gloves, he squeezed your hand three times before leaving to head on track.

Arthur was going to be watching the race from the garage so the rest of you went back up to the hospitality and sat down at the table. You let out a steady breath when you saw that he had finished the formation lap and said a silent prayer as you waited for the lights to go out. Pascale automatically reached for your hand and your eyes were trained on the screen. After the accident on the first lap, the start had to be delayed while the barrier was repaired and the cars were taken out of the track.

Once the race started again you found it difficult to calm your anxieties so you talked in hushed tones with Pascale, Lorenzo, and Charlotte. The entire team he was leading and you could not wipe the grin from your face, on the last five laps you were finding it hard to contain your excitement and the cameras had panned in to show you and you smiled. On the last lap, you were fidgeting with a bracelet while looking at the screen you could feel the cameras on you but you were so focused on the screen. 

The moment he crossed the line and the checkered flag was waved you all erupted in cheers and hugged each other while wiping the tears that were starting to fall. Your thoughts drifted towards Charles and you knew how happy and proud he must be feeling. This win meant everything to him for various reasons and you knew his thoughts had undoubtedly gone towards his father. 

You all gathered under the podium next to the Ferrari mechanics who were holding flags. All of the people standing there were so proud and you had texted his friends who had gathered in the balcony to watch him win and were sharing how proud they were of him. You looked around and smiled knowing that his family, friends, and all those gathered here were so unbelievably proud of him. You clapped once Carlos and Oscar made their way to their podiums, when Charles walked out you cheered as loud as you could and saw Prince Albert crying as well.

Seeing Charles at the top step of the podium, with the flag draped around his shoulders brought you to tears, you knew how much sentimental value this win had for him and his family. Winning this had been Charles and Hervé’s wish and after the previous events in which Charles was close to winning this race and not getting it, you knew that this victory felt a million times better for him and it meant everything.

Your eyes met and you smiled and waved, Charles’s eyes crinkled as he looked down 

at you standing next to his mother and brothers. 

When the anthem started playing you were all singing and you lifted a hand to wipe your tears as you used the other to film. Pascale put her arm around your shoulders and you leaned into her a little, a proud smile spread across her face as he watched her son on the podium he so dearly loved. 

The Italian anthem was up next and you sang along with the mechanics who were waving the flags around. The city that had seen him grow was now watching him win and the pride could be felt on every single corner, chills ran up your spine as you thought about it. Clapping once the podium was over you moved to join the rest of the team who was waiting for him. 

“Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me” 

Charles came running towards everyone with the trophy in hand.  “You brought it home!” you exclaimed. “I brought it home!” he shouted and you laughed. Handing the trophy to Lorenzo, Charles placed both hands on your cheeks and kissed you. 

His lips tasted like champagne but they were soft as always, pulling him closer you kissed him again and pulled away to look at his sparkly eyes before pressing your foreheads together. “I’m beyond proud of you, we all are,” you whispered and he nodded and kissed your forehead. 

Lorenzo, Pascale, and Arthur hugged him and you took a picture of the family with a fond smile on your face. Charlotte congratulated him with a hug. The team celebrated the win by hugging him and patting him on the head. The mechanics were singing and you smiled at the joyous scene. 

After the round of pictures and more champagne sprays, you accompanied Charles and the team to the harbor. Everyone cheered when he pushed Fred in and dived after him, you laughed at his perfect diving form and knew he’d ask you later if he had done it right. 

His eyes sparkled every time he smiled and the smile never faltered all through the night. This type of happiness was one of your favorites and you adored to see him like this. It was the time of happiness that you would love to see every single weekend, it was worth every single aspect that came in to make sure a moment like this would happen here of all places. Nothing tasted better than a home win with a deeper meaning.

Charles had endured so many ups and downs to get to this moment and after countless hours of work, and every single amount of passion poured into it the moment was finally here and it was his to celebrate. You couldn’t have been prouder of him and never faltered in telling him the truth. 

The trophy might’ve been in the room but the real trophy had come running over to you and had been next to you all night smiling from ear to ear.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[crsssie]

calling it love, but this isn't falling

word count: 1.6k

warnings: non explicit smut (one paragraph)

summary: huh. not kid anymore

If you had to describe Keegan, it'd be something along the lines of "an old man's soul stuck in a young man's body" or something adjacent.

You had watched him in high school — three years above you, captain of the basketball team, president of the social services club, set to join the military after graduation, and you had hung out in his friend group by pure chance. A senior had adopted you as a freshman, and you had been in the group, watching Keegan since.

Pretty blues. He has striking blue eyes — cold when out playing on the court, yet somehow warm when he was talking to his friends. He always struck you as that kind of person. He'd suit the battlefield. You know? But the truth was, you read stories about the battlefield and its repercussions, and you were certain that by the time that Keegan was in the military, he'd be gone and dead and maybe blown up in the Middle East all for the sake of some oil. The people who die in war are expendable at the hands of the government, so when the entire group had waved goodbye to him at his enlistment, you had tucked him a small four-leaf clover into his palm, telling him to tuck it into his hat so that at the very least, he would not be shot through the skull.

"You sure care about me, kid."

"I'm your friend. It's a given. Good luck, Keegan."

"I'll be back. Promise."

You're graduating your bachelor's degree when Keegan comes back from the war. Alive, yes. Shell-shocked, yes. It's hard to describe PTSD because it's not just the clattering and loud noises. It's also the silence that comes with it, and when you spot Keegan with all of your high school friends at your graduation, your heart stops in your chest because that's not Keegan. That's the shell of him. It's hard to even begin to describe just who he is now.

"Congrats on the degree, kid." He hums, handing back the same four-leaf clover, and you start crying.

You tell everyone it's just because you're happy to be done and to be able to see Keegan, but it's far from the truth.

Keegan ends up at the same university that you go to grad school for.

You spot him at orientation, and you stick around him, watching as you point him through everything that he needs to know, and you blink and blink and blink and blink at him until you're blinking out tears and you feel like a child all over again. You wonder if you should just tell Keegan that maybe being around him is bad for your health and eyes, but you decide against it.

You wipe at your tears and tell him you're just being sentimental. Now you're telling him the ropes to handling certain situations when he was the one doing that back in high school.

"Nothing to get sentimental over." Keegan hums, offering you a pack of napkins from his pocket as you sniffle.

"Fuck you."

"Apartment's open."

You punch him in the arm for it.

Keegan is good at staying quiet. He's always been. Despite the unofficial acknowledgment that he was the leader in the high school friend group, he had always been quiet. Talked with his eyes. You stare into his eyes when he raises a brow at the rest of the group, and you learn to read him just based off of an expression. An older brother to anyone and everyone. Yet, despite it all, you never quite learned too much about him. A family crowded in much secrecy. The stability in his personality was rare in a broken house, so you always assumed that he had just been part of a white picket fence home.

He's always been the type to take care of you.

You find it strange that you're teaching him what drinks to touch and not, and you hand him a can of beer, grabbing a shot for yourself, and shotgunning a soda as a chaser. You wipe your mouth of the sugar as Keegan stares, bursting into laughter when your raise a brow at him and offer the rest of the drink to him.

"That's unsanitary, kid."

"Can't die from a little metal poisoning." You lick your lips, tossing the rest of it as you hum. "Most people pregame at home, but since we met up, I don't expect you to have done anything."

"Always full of surprises, eh?"

"Have to be. What's a little fun?" You hum. "We can bus home or call a cab later. See you in a bit!"

You rush into the crowd to disappear.

It's a little unfair, though. You don't ever think Keegan's thought too much about you while you had always looked up to him, so it feels a little strange for you to be on top of him, sunk down on him, legs flush against his hips as your fingers wrap around his neck, your brows furrowed as you breathe in and out. He's pretty like this, blues hazy as you stare down at him, room suddenly too small, breath suddenly too short. It's unfair that you get to see him like this, you think. You can name at least five other people who used to be in your friend group who had a crush on him. Unfair, unfair, unfair. Your lips press to his collar, lipgloss smearing on the white of his skin, and you wonder if he's going to forget all of this in the morning.

You don't know if you want him to.

You wake to Keegan in bed with an arm around your waist, face nestled into your chest.

Keegan wakes to an empty bed and pills on his nightstand.

You pretend it didn't happen. As long as Keegan doesn't bring it up, you don't either. Yet, you stick around for breakfast, handing him his usual order and morning coffee, a cup of tea specifically gifted to him at orientation in a mug that you had given him for secret Santa years ago in your hand, hum on your lips as Keegan has breakfast.

"What are we?"

"I don't know." You shrug. "Y'wanna give it a label?"

"Not really."

"There we go."

You leave after breakfast, turning down Keegan's offer to drive you back.

You're set to graduate earlier than Keegan — understandably so, and so when you're graduating again, Keegan's got flowers in his arms for you and a smile on his face as you beam at him. You don't invite the high school friend group since you've lost contact, and Keegan's all you have left from that period of life. He offers you a dinner on him, turned down when you steal the flowers and press your lips to his, pulled down by the collar as he sinks into the kiss, humming as you let go with a dramatic throw of your head, cheeky and grinning when he looks down at you.

Keegan's learned that you don't do labels out of a fear and not because you genuinely don't do labels.

Maybe you don't quite understand the point either.

You wonder what you're to do now that you're done, applying to jobs and doctorates, crashing on Keegan's couch and abandoning your apartment, moved into the original storage room that he had.

You care yet you don't.

He knows yet he doesn't.

You pay him your half of rent, and you manage to pull some strings to stay in the same university, starting at the beginning of the new year rather than the schoolyear, and when you show Keegan your offer, he's got you giggling and laughing as he pins you down on the couch.

You don't know if you crave the domesticity of your relationship or something else.

The bed in the storage room is eventually sold to some student as you start sleeping on Keegan's, his bare skin on yours more times than your heart beats in a day. Something about being vulnerable with his skin out, trusting you to never hurt or harm him in any way. You think there's something strange about making it so far with him. A piece of your past that just stuck around and never left.

Even when he graduates and you've got flowers for him, you tell him you'll just take over his lease if he decides to move out.

Instead, he lifts you into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours, asking if you really ever thought about spending the rest of your life with him.

Maybe it's just some semblance of romance to you. You don't know.

You tell him you wouldn't mind.

It's a little untraditional to do a quick courthouse wedding with a random witness pulled off the street and with rings the two of you had found at the closest thrift shop, but it's also just how it's always been.

Post-marriage ice cream. Insane move on his end, and you think it's crazy, but you think you grow used to it. You don't even ask how Keegan knew you wanted ice cream.

"You marryin' me because you wanna take care of me?"

"Always have been, honey."

Huh. Not kid anymore.

"Not kid?"

"Not with that ring on your finger."

"Maybe this was your masterplan all along."

"Maybe." He pauses to laugh. "Or maybe I just love you."

"Maybe." You pause to stare out the window. "Not changing my last name, though. What the hell is Russ?"

"The etymology has something to do with redheads or fox-likes."

"Huh." You pause to think. "That might've sold me."

"Yeah?"

"After the degree, though."

"Of course."

[arachnoia]

gone ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o'hara x fem! reader

a/n: i think that atp, im just a miguel o’hara writer (not that im complaining but gimmie requests pls !! theyre open on my acc !!) this is also a drabble ive been wanting to write because i’ve always wanted to write angst (well tbh idk what this is?) but wasn’t sure how to? lowkey i want this to be a story that isn’t just a one shot but lmk if you guys want more of this? im just trying stuff out!

pt2 - ‘holy shock’ pt 3- ‘finally’

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Breathe in, breathe out...”

The beautiful city stunned you as you stood on top of a random building, breathing in its modern, refreshing look.

It kind of took your breath away, contradictory to what you just told yourself a few seconds ago.

You barely finished another mission as your universe’s one and only Spider-Silk. Was it tiring? Hell yes, no doubt. But you never took a moment to actually admire Earth-928’s Nueva York, where Spider Society headquarters was located. Nueva York was also the place where you were if it wasn’t fighting crime and going to grad school in your own universe’s New York.

You usually swing to the top of a business building, a little bit far from Spider Society headquarters. It was quiet and peaceful. It was your thinking place where you could release any emotions you wanted to spill when you couldn’t anywhere else since you can’t really spill your emotions if you were to be taken seriously.

Plus, the one person who you expressed your deepest emotions, is gone.

As you simply stared into space while remembering the feeling you felt this morning.

You noticed some tears gathering at the outside corners of your eyes. Your eyelids began to droop, and you began to sob quietly as your chest hurt from, what some call “heartbreak”.

To be completely honest though, it was just melancholy and depression from what happened hours prior.

You couldn’t say that the emotion you felt for him or what you feel is loving him because it wasn’t love.

It felt like something stronger. But you knew it wasn’t reciprocated back.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So why don’t you just kick your professor’s ass?” Miguel joked. His laugh made you feel warm inside. It was a cute laugh in your opinion.

The two of you were sitting down, at the building you like to think at, munching on sweet, baked, fig empanadas from a lady's restaurant in your universe. Doña Rosa? She was a nice lady and safe to say, Miguel would definitely come back for the empanadas.

“Please, O’Hara. I’d get simply kicked out and would have to never show my face ever again…But the bastard deserves it for ripping apart my paper on exploring different dimensions with colliders!”

He chuckled. “Right, because you have experience. Do you not? Y/l/n?”

“EXACTLY. BUT NOT EVEN GRAMMARLY HELPED ME NOT GO THROUGH HIS REIGN OF TERROR!” You felt pissed, but Miguel found it absolutely hilarious to see you worked up as you angrily took a bite out of your empanada. It was cute.

“Swear to god, that bitch is scarier than most of the stupid anomalies we fight,” You pouted and glanced at him. He looked like he was trying to not start laughing even harder than he was before. “Y/l/n. Just calm down it doesn’t matter. Plus didn’t you mention it was like 10% of your grade? You’ll be fine it’s not that bad.”

You smirked at him. “Oh, so you’re trying to say it’s still bad?”

“No…but look at me.” You turned to his direction as he placed his empanada on a napkin next to the rest of the lot and he rested his hands on your shoulders.

“Breathe in. Breathe out.” You chuckled at his direction.

“Miguel, you sound like a yoga instructor."

“No no, I’m being serious here! No dejas que esa mierda te moleste, okay?”

You raised your eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Alright, like you’re the calmest person on this Earth,” He laughed. “I’m not but you’re not like me. I don’t want that to affect you, especially because it doesn’t matter.”

“Now. Breathe in…”

You softly smiled at him, to which he returned, “And breathe out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“It's pleasant, isn't it?” Peter replied as he began to go in your direction, breaking up your train of thought. He and Mayday gave you a sad look as they walked over to hug your shaky form.

“How-?”

“Y/n, I saw you swinging here after barely teleporting here. What’s wrong?”

You didn’t know what to say. You felt a metaphoric weight on your shoulders as you struggled to tell Peter.

“Was it perhaps…Miguel?” You felt like laughing. Here you were, crying while Peter was acting full-on dad and Mayday was playing with her Spider-Man beanie. It would be a very unusual sight to someone who was just viewing you three at a distance.

“I’m just going to take that as a yes,” Peter said as he sat down on the roof and patted to the space next to him. “Take a seat, Y/l/n.”

You followed his directions and sat down.

It was quiet and a bit windy. It gave you a sad memory and you felt like you were drowning in it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You felt a rush of anxiety and couldn’t breathe.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T DO IT, O’HARA," you screeched, scratching Miguel's arm in excruciating pain.

“YES YOU CAN, Y/L/N!! CALM DOWN!”

The two of you were in a mission to stop an anomaly. You were one of the first to start attacking…and one of the first to be badly injured. Your right thigh was impaled with several medium sized pieces of glass from being thrown to a glass building and you ran out of webs to shoot. You froze and wanted to cry, feeling vulnerable.

Miguel went over to try to help you as the other Spiders went to attack said anomaly. You knew each other as friends since you were one of the first Spiders ever to be recruited to the Spider Society so you knew each other pretty well. When he saw you injured, he quickly saved some civilians and rushed to your direction.

“Yes, you can Y/l/n. Look at me. Breathe in.” Your eyes widened as you saw him grab the largest piece of glass. He had 2 pieces of cloth with him. “No, stop looking at them and look at me. Breathe in, goddamn it.”

You stared at him and he gave you a piece to bite down. You tried to calm down as he took the piece out and screamed into the cloth. “I’m going to wrap it up, okay?” He said, earning a nod from you. “Good girl. Now breathe in…”

“…Breathe out.” You said.

“That’s my girl,” He said as he smiled at you and carried you with the rest of the civilians.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Breathe in, breathe out,” You whispered. Saying that phrase now just made your tongue feel bitter. Like eating a sour candy except it doesn’t turn out sweet at the end, but just making you frown.

Peter smiled and turned to you, “Now tell me what happened, kid. People don’t just run away before saying hi to their favorite person, therefore being me? !”

You scoffed, “Peter, no offense but why does it matter to you? You should be focusing on other things other than my well-being.”

Peter raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes. “Listen, kid. You and the other Spiders like Gwen or Miles, matter to me.”

He covered Mayday’s ears. “Shit, even Miguel. If I see you mopey and sad and what not, of course, I’m going to be worried!”

“Really?” You were shocked. No one really has given you that fatherly attention like Peter has.

The only one who would really listen to you, was Miguel. But you can’t really rely on him now, can you?

“Yup. Now tell me what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Your breath hitched and you froze.

You then took a deep breath, sighed, and smiled bitterly.

“Miguel, he told me he wants me gone from his life,” you said as you felt a sudden pang in your chest.

Just feeling those words leave your lips made the melancholy come back even stronger.

And it hurt like fucking hell.

[cmdrfupa]

Bone Appetit

I couldn't leave this little ditty alone, so enjoy a little babble of a drabble over our favorite sleepy defense attorney.

MDNI suggestive content ahead

"And here I thought you didn't love me." Your husband took a deep breath as you walked into his office. A pleasant surprise in the form of you, Hiromi's loving spouse, closing the door before sashaying around his desk. You kissed the top of his dark head as the shuffling of papers across his desk started. "Romance could never be dead when Mrs. Higuruma lives and breathes."

You unveiled the glass food carrier, revealing the still-warm sauteed garlic and parmesan mushrooms on a bed of rice and a side of grilled chicken. "Traffic coming off the ramp was nuts. Had to take a few of the backroads to get into the city's center." The room was filled with the delightful anticipation of the meal, a moment of shared joy between you and Hiromi.

  A faux-pitiful look came across Hiromi's face, rubbing the slight pudge of a belly he adorned. "I had one of those BBQ tacos not long ago. I don't know if I can eat another thing."

"Thank you, my darling wife. Your culinary skills never cease to amaze me, princess. Perhaps we could venture into the city this weekend to find new furniture for the den because you are literally the ?" The exaggerated mocking tone you used to tease Hiromi brought an amused smile to his face as he watched you prepare his meal.

The first late night of the week as another case muddled with his mind. Choosing to extend the grace he permanently extended to you during grad school, you packed dinner to bring it to him.

You placed the napkin in his lap, and Hiromi's hand gently caught your chin. "Thank you, honey. I truly appreciate this dinner." His words carried a genuine sense of gratitude as he placed a delicate kiss on the corner of your mouth.

You're very welcome, my love. Now, eat your food, old man."

  Hiromi devoured every bit of food as you shared the details of your day with him - from the ongoing drama in Pilates class to the neighborhood association's new discussions on how long Christmas lights should be allowed to stay up to his impressive towel-folding skills before heading to work.

  "Hm? Oh," he said as he wiped his mouth, "I just did it while my shirt was drying this morning. It's not a big deal, really."

  Clearing his desk of your containers, you snapped the lids on before placing them back into your tote. "Romi, you folded them perfectly. Every hem aligned, every edge folded over to hide the tag. I've trained you well."

  "Trained? So, I get a treat for flawlessly following your directions?" You sat gracefully in front of Hiromi at his desk, crossing your legs at the ankle while he lazily traced his spidery fingers up and down your calves with a playful smirk. "I think your favorite man deserves a nice treat, no?"

  "Mmm, not my favorite." You leaned forward, running your fingers through his soft hair. "My good boy is the one who gets a special treat for his more than-perfect work. Are you a good boy, Hiromi?'

  While he wasn't a medical professional, he was more than confident what he was experiencing was a cardiac event. A surge of energy shot through him, going straight to his lap. What the fuck was happening? "Am I?" the hint of curiosity drizzled in his tone.

  "You are." Hiromi stood between your legs, squeezing the fleshiest parts of your thigh as you watched his usual pale skin take on a ruddy complexion. "You're my good boy. My very good boy."

[flightlessangelwings]

My Favorite Bartender

bartender!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), no powers au, bartender Peter, lounge band performer reader (I left it vague so you can imagine singer or plays an instrument), mutual pining, flirting, fluff, romance, drinking, praise, bar isn't described so you can imagine any type, background reader x Flash but I just used him in name only cause I needed an ex, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting my Year of AUs with an idea I've had in my head for over a year! It took me a while to come up with more than just vibes for this but I'm happy with how this turned out! Inspired by the gif below. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up of date on when I post new things!

~

A smooth melody floated through the air as Peter shook the mixer in his hands. The clinking of the ice added to the music as if they were meant to be played together, and Peter smiled at the patron as he put on a little show. The woman who sat at the bar gave him a flirtatious grin in return as she watched him pour her drink into a glass. 

“One Manhattan for the lady,” he said smoothly. 

“Thank you, handsome,” she winked and gave Peter an extra tip… and her number on a napkin before she walked away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before she rejoined her friends. 

Peter smirked before he tactfully slid the napkin out of sight, never to touch it again.

He never expected his life would turn out this way. Peter Parker had always worked hard and excelled in school. He found his way with the help of a scholarship to a top college to study more of the science that he loved so much. And from there, he got into a grad school where he perfected his craft and applied for research grants. However, life came crashing down around him when he didn’t get it and all over work opportunities fell one by one like dominoes. It was a hard time for Peter, and it took him some time to climb out of his hole again.

Following his Aunt May’s advice, Peter learned a new craft to earn some money while he figured his life out. And that was how he ended up bartending… for the last few years. The money was decent, and after some disasters with spilling drinks and shattering glasses, Peter became quite skilled at it. He and May exchanged stories about their work often too, and her words always provided comfort for him.

“You’re not a failure just because you didn’t end up where you thought you would, Peter,” May told him on several occasions, “I love you and I’m proud of you.”

“I love you too, May,” Peter would reply meekly. 

But what really kept Peter tethered to the bar was you. You had started about a year after Peter did, and he was captivated with you from the moment he first saw you. Swallowing his nerves, he mustered up the courage to say hello and introduce himself. When you gave him your name and said you were there to audition for the house band, Peter’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Here,” he slid a glass of sparkling water your way, “On the house,” he winked as he hoped he hid how flustered he actually felt.

“Thanks,” you raised your glass in a cheer and drank before you went and nailed your audition. 

Peter loved to watch you perform several nights a week. And he felt lucky that he got a prime seat for the show. At times, he almost forgot about the customers who were waiting for drinks when you were on stage. And as you swayed to the music that filled the room, Peter would sometimes drop his glass as he [aid more attention to you than what was in his hands. 

Over the months, the two of you even started to become friends, talking occasionally whenever you came to the bar for some water or whenever you both saw each other in the break room.

However close you seemed to Peter, though, you were just out of reach. He remembered the day a man came to watch you, seated right up front the entire time you were on stage with the band. Peter’s instincts told him who he was, but his heart still dropped when you introduced him as your boyfriend. 

“Peter, this is Flash,” you introduced him as you hung on his arm.

It took everything within him to not let the heartbreak show on his face, and Peter extended his hand with a taut smile, “Pleasure,” his words held no genuine emotion.

“That’s a strong grip, Pete,” Flash responded, shaking his hand, “Good thing you’re here to watch over my baby at work,” he continued, telling Peter about how much you’ve spoken about him.

As Flash rambled on, Peter’s eyes drifted to meet yours where he noticed your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He wondered why that was, but he also decided to interrupt your boyfriend with, “How about a drink for the happy couple? On the house,” he raised his mixer and a glass with his trademark smile on his face.

You breathed in relief, “I’d love one.”

Watching as Peter spun a glass in his hand and poured from a liquor bottle from the other, you were captivated. You loved to watch him mix drinks as he put on almost as much of a show as you did when you performed. Peter lifted the liquor bottle up, allowing the liquid to frame his shoulders like a rainbow before he lowered it back down. A perfect pour. Peter then covered the mixing bottle and shook it diligently, smirking at you while he did so. The look on his face made your heart flutter- something Flash hadn’t been able to accomplish in a very long time.

The truth was you were enamored with Peter. From the moment you met on your audition day, you felt a spark unlike anything you had ever felt before. His kind way, his handsome smile, the way his hands nimbly worked the glasses along the bar, it all made your skin tingle and your face warm. You couldn’t say anything, though. You were still with Flash, more out of comfort and convenience than true love at this point. So, you just enjoyed the time you spent with Peter at work, burying your feelings deep down every day. 

As Peter poured the two glasses and slid them towards the two of you, you couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Next to you, Flash was oblivious as his eyes never left the drinks.

“My compliments to the chef,” he raised his glass towards Peter, who gave him a weak smile in return, “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks, Peter,” you agreed as you took a sip, “It’s delicious.” It was just the drink you needed at the moment, and you wondered how Peter knew. 

“Later,” Flash guided you away from the bar to mingle.

Looking over your shoulder one last time, you and Peter locked eyes and your heart fluttered in your chest. Peter kept the fake smile on his face until you were out of sight, and he felt his entire self slump down in disappointment. His heart ached in his chest as Flash put his hands all over you, treating you more like a possession than a person. But, he knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, and he didn’t want to complicate anything by telling you how he really felt. So, Peter took a deep breath and donned the mask once more as he was flagged down by a fresh wave of patrons at the bar.

*

Even though Peter couldn’t call you his, he could still enjoy the time he spent with you. And he found that the bar always felt brighter whenever you were there. Whenever your eyes met his, he couldn’t help but smile, and there were times where the flutter in his chest almost felt like a heart attack. Peter would take any time with you he could get, and he truly valued the growing friendship between the two of you. 

Every night before you took the stage with the rest of the band, you always stopped by the bar and got a sparkling water from Peter. “My favorite bartender,” you would always say as you tripped your glass towards the identical one he held.

“It’s bad luck to drink alone,” Peter would quip with a mischievous smirk as he poured himself his own glass. He cheered it with your own and together the two of you would drink in unison. From the first night he did that, it became a tradition for the two of you, and something you both secretly looked forward to.

One night, the bar was unusually slow, and there weren’t many customers inside. The band took a break from performing, not wanting to waste the energy, and you went right to the bar. “How about something a little stronger than sparkling water, tonight?” you couldn’t help the subtly flirtatious tone in your voice.

“You sure about that?” Peter replied with his own coy tease in his tone.

“I’m positive,” you shimmied your shoulders.

“Alright, you asked for it,” Peter smirked back as he mixed something new for you. It was a beautiful color, and another perfect pour. Peter was just glad he didn’t drop a glass every time he glanced in your direction as you watched him intensely.

“To a slow night,” you raised your glass to him.

“To a slow night,” Peter agreed as he clinked the glass he poured himself with yours and you both drank.

As the hours passed, you and Peter continued to talk and drink at the bar until the last customer left. The manager decided to close early since it was so quiet, and the two of you stumbled towards the back to gather your things. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you lost your footing for a moment, but Peter was right there to catch you.

“You alright?” he asked in a soft voice.

Looking into his eyes, you felt time stop for a moment. Everything else faded away, and all you could think about was Peter. His arms wrapped around you, his soft eyes looked deep into yours, and his lips looked so… kissable. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in closer. Your eyes started to flutter shut as your lips ghosted over his. Feeling his breath against your skin was like a jolt of electricity to your entire system.

Peter breathed your name as he made no attempt to stop you, as much as he knew he should. It was the moment he had wanted for so long, and it was right in front of him. The alcohol buzzed in his system, clouding his judgment slightly, though he knew neither of you had enough to be fully drunk. You knew what you were doing, your inhibitions were just down at the moment.

Just before your lips were about to touch, though, something snapped in you and you gasped as you jumped back. “I…” you cleared your throat, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered as you closed in on yourself.

“It’s ok,” Peter rested his hands on your shoulders, “Hey, look at me,” he waited for you to meet his gaze before he continued, “You’re ok. We’re ok.” Conflicting emotions ran through his head- Peter wanted to kiss you more than anything, but he also didn’t want you to regret kissing him. So, he pushed his own wants aside and looked after you instead, like he always did.

Somehow, you knew what Peter meant with just those words, “We’re ok,” you echoed.

Peter proved it the next night when you both came back to work. He poured you a sparkling water and one for himself, cheering you as if nothing happened the night before. You wanted to apologize again, but something in you said that he knew. And everything fell back into your usual routine again.

*

But everything changed the night Peter found you in the back, alone and crying as the bar was closing down.

Immediately, he went on alert and was ready to help you no matter what. He gasped softly as he rushed over to you and sat next to you, “Hey, hey,” he cooed softly, “What’s going on? Are you alright?” Peter hated seeing you like this.

You looked up from where you held your face in your hands, and the sad look in your eyes made Peter’s chest tighten. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be crying at work…”

“Hey,” Peter pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I won’t judge,” he tried to make you smile.

It worked, and you gave him the brief hint of a laugh before your face dropped again, “It’s over with Flash,” you confessed, “He…” you choked back a sob, “I caught him with someone else yesterday.”

Anger flashed across Peter’s face as he tightened his grip on you and murmured your name, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. You deserve better than this… Than him…

A few more tears fell from your eyes, but you stubbornly tried to hold more back, “I shouldn’t even be that upset,” you almost sounded bitter, “Considering I almost kissed you the other day,” your voice was so hushed you weren’t sure if Peter even heard you. 

“Hey you did nothing wrong,” Peter cupped your face, “Nothing happened, and it was my fault anyway…” 

You looked into his eyes and the world stopped around you. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. All you cared about was him, and the warmth of his hands. Truthfully, you hadn’t felt the same about Flash in a long time, but you stayed with him more out of comfort than anything. At the same time, though, being cheated on definitely hurt you to your core.

“Pete…” you breathed as the whirlwind of emotions made your head spin. Before you could stop yourself, you felt your body leaning more toward him as your eyes glanced down at his lips.

Peter whispered your name as he brushed your cheek with his thumb. Everything in him told him to push you away, that you were too vulnerable right now. But, he wanted this more than anything. He wanted you. He wanted to kiss your problems away and make you feel safe. He wanted to make sure you were never hurt again, since he would never do anything to hurt you. And as Peter felt your breath against his skin, he found that he was about to give into his selfishness for once in his life.

But, before your lips connected, the door slammed open and Flash, your now ex, bellowed your name. “What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed at you as he stomped over, “We didn’t even officially break up and here you are about to fuck your coworker?!”

“You cheated,” Peter interjected before you could reply, “I’d say that’s pretty broken up to me,” he stood strong as he placed his body between yours and your ex. 

Flash puffed up his chest and balled his hands into fists as he approached Peter, “You think you’re tough now, nerd?” he scoffed, “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Peter replied, holding strong, “But I’m not gonna let you do anything to…” he trailed off as he felt your presence behind him. Peter could feel you start to say something, perhaps try to talk him out of putting himself in harm’s way for you, but Peter didn’t care about his own safety. He only cared about yours. 

“How cute,” Flash sneered as he shoved Peter back, making you both stumble.

Not wanting things to escalate further, you called for security, who rushed in and quickly escorted Flash out. Peter stayed in front of you, blocking the view of your ex, who was cursing and hollering as he was dragged out. You knew you heard some insults thrown at you in between the obscenities, and you couldn’t help but wince.

“Hey,” Peter turned to you once the room was clear, “You alright?” he asked as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I uhh,” you stuttered, unsure of what to even say. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed your tense muscles, “I think so,” you finally replied in a soft voice as your eyes dropped to the ground.

“Listen,” he tried to keep his own tone even for your sake, “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? He can’t find you there and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Your gaze snapped back up to meet Peter’s and the breath in your chest felt like it was pushed out of you. “Are… Are you sure?” you struggled to find your voice again, “I won’t want to put you out or anything…”

“You aren’t,” Peter cut you off before you could finish the thought, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

*

“Home sweet home,” Peter gestured to the small apartment with an awkward grin on his face, “It’s not much but… It’s home,” he shuffled in, closing the door behind you both and locking it tightly, “What’s mine is yours. Help yourself to anything.”

You stood in the doorway taking in the space. Peter lived in a little studio apartment. It was older, but you could tell he put a lot of care into the space. The tiny kitchen had snacks all over the counter. On the other end, there was a small desk against the window next to a little tv and refurbished couch. The bed was in the far corner next to the door to the tiny bathroom.

“Aunt May must have dropped off some things,” Peter rushed to the kitchen counters and shuffled the snacks into drawers clumsily as he chuckled, “I actually try to keep the place neat, if you could believe that.”

For the first time that night, a smile lit up your face, “It’s fine, Peter,” you stepped further into the studio and sat down on the small couch, “It’s a nice place.”

“Hey,” he crossed the room and sat down next to you, taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”

Your eyes landed on where his warm hand held yours, and once more you felt the breath knocked out of you. It felt as if a jolt of electricity ran up from where your hands were connected to your heart, making it skip a beat. Meeting his gaze again, you spoke in a more confident tone, “Thank you.”

Peter smiled back at you, “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” his tone was soft as he squeezed your hand in his.

“Peter…” you breathed as you felt yourself leaning toward him as if gravity was pulling you closer, “Call me that again? Please.”

He exhaled sharply, the smile still lighting up his face as he leaned in too, “Sweetheart…” Peter cupped your face tenderly like he did before back at the club. As he felt your breath against his face once again, Peter murmured, “Can I kiss you… sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whispered before your lips were pressed against his. 

The kiss was soft and sweet, yet it sent a jolt through both of you. Months of buildup led to this moment as you both melted into the other. Heat quickly rose in the room as you started to cling to Peter, running your hands all over his body. Peter groaned into you as he did the same and soon the kiss turned more deep, more passionate, more desperate.

You broke away from Peter, breathing heavily as you looked into his eyes. You saw the same look on his face that you knew you had on yours- the same neediness was apparent on his face. As your eyes wandered across his body, glancing down between his legs for the briefest moment, Peter murmured your name.

Meeting his gaze again, you knew the question on the tip of his tongue, “Yes,” you breathed as you jumped on him.

This time, you parted your lips for Peter immediately, and you moaned into him as you tasted him on your tongue. Passions rose as the two of you clumsily pushed yourself off the couch and made your way over to his bed, never breaking apart for long.

Something crashed as you bumped into it, but you didn’t care. And neither did Peter, who completely ignored it. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment other than you. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his wandering hands started to tug at your clothes while he shuffled your bodies over to his bed.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you felt his desperation, and you mirrored his actions by clawing at his shirt. The two of you only broke away from the kiss to remove clothing, not wanting to miss a second of the other. A trail of clothes led the way to Peter’s bed, and once your legs hit the corner, he grabbed you and flopped you both down.

Laughter erupted as you landed side by side on his small bed. Peter paused for a moment to cup your face, cradling it tenderly in his hand for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed before he kissed you again, maneuvering you so that he straddled you.

“Peter…”

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked, freezing in place.

“Never,” you smiled as you grabbed him and yanked him down, crashing your lips into his once more.

Peter’s laughter was muffled in your lips, but he also couldn’t help but buck his hips against yours. His cock, already hardening, rocked along your body, causing you both to gasp into the other.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes… Please, Peter,” you begged in between kisses as you rocked yourself against his body to match his rhythm.

“I can’t say no to you, sweetheart,” he smirked as he dripped his hand between your legs, “Fuck,” he breathed as he cradled your body, carefully pushing a finger into you slowly.

The moan you let out went right to Peter’s core, and he groaned as he pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding a second, “Sweetheart,” he sighed, “You’re so beautiful like this,” he stammered as he sped up his thrusts with his fingers, “I’ve thought about this for so long,” he couldn’t help but confess.

Your eyes blinked open, “Me too,” you felt the heat build under your skin and your nerves burst into flames at your own confession.

“Well let’s make it worth it then,” Peter’s signature smirk lit up his face again as he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself at your entrance.

“I know you will,” you replied breathlessly, “Don’t make me wait another second, Peter. I need you too bad.”

All he could do was moan in reply as he pushed himself into you. Gasps and moans filled the room as Peter filled you, connecting your bodies together for the first time. The bed creaked as he started a slow and steady rhythm, rocking in and out of you to the tune of your cries of pleasure.

Brown locks of hair fell in front of Peter’s face as he fought to keep himself hovering over you, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. But every time he thrust fully into you, Peter lost himself in how good you felt. He breathed your name as his hips stammered, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“You’re amazing, Peter,” you breathed, “Fuck…”

Emotions ran high between the two of you as skin slapped against skin. Peter picked up his pace and lost control of himself. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as he felt himself engulfed by you over and over again. Fuck, you looked perfect underneath him like this, and Peter hoped that he could see this sight over and over again.

“Peter… Right there!” you cried out when he changed his angle slightly, “Fuck Peter you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Let me see it, sweetheart,” he cooed as he intentionally hit that spot inside you over and over again, feeling your inner muscles squeeze his cock every time he did so. 

It only took a few more thrusts for you to fall apart underneath Peter, crying out his name and clinging to him tightly as you did so. Your eyes snapped shut as your mouth hung open, letting the screams and moans spill without inhibition. Your body trembled as the emotions caught up to you, and as you rode out your climax, tears started to fall from the corners of your eyes.

Peter groaned your name as he watched the display in front of him, and the emotions became too much for him too. He came without warning, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he moaned your name and spilled himself deep inside you. Peter thrusted a few more times until he had nothing else to give, and when he couldn’t hold himself up any longer, he flopped down on top of you with an exhausted huff. 

Once more, giggles erupted between you and Peter as you felt the warmth and weight of his body overtop of yours. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft tone as he cradled your face.

“Never better,” you replied.

Peter smiled at you as he slowly closed the gap between your faces, placing a soft yet heartfelt kiss on your lips as he pulled out of you. He swallowed the moan you let out, and he kept your body close to his as he made yourselves comfortable on his bed. Peter cradles you safe and secure in his arms, savoring the feeling of your warmth. It felt like a dream, but if it was, Peter didn’t want to wake up from it. And he certainly never wanted to let you go ever again.

“Just rest tonight,” Peter murmured to you, kissing the side of your head, “We’ll get your stuff from Flash’s tomorrow. I won’t leave your side, I promise.”

You just hummed contently, comfortable in his arms.

“You need anything? A snack? A drink?” he asked.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and with a smirk you replied, “How about I make you a drink this time?” your tone dropped.

Peter’s own grin beamed back at you, “I would love to see that.” 

[likeawildthing]

when i fnished grad school (which was actually 2022? new job was this year though!) my friends made me swear on a napkin to learn to relax and im happy to report the experiment has been a success and i have become a lesiure QUEEN.

what am i doing w/ my free time?

making miniatures! currently working on a dollhouse for my old coworker's daughters. will share pics! maybe i will finish a single project this year.

hanging out w/ my kids and their GFs because they're awesome. at the same time, trying to avoid becoming BFFs with said lovely GFs because i cannot take having another tragic breakup dollhouse rotting in my basement

i color in a coloring book every night which is not making my own art but it is relaxing w/out the pressure of making like work!

making friends in the most random places (mammogram screening, hospital emergency room, while white water rafting)

slowly watching my gardens die because my kids forgot to water them when i was out of town for two weeks and i've been sick for most of the summer (feeling MUCH BETTER now. who knew gallbladders could be such a nightmare!)

have been going to monthly craft meet ups with the old ladies at my library. they go multiple times a week and the tea is always piping (literally AND metaphorically)

at my prev WFH job the cat trained me to sit on the couch w/ him BUT at my new WFH job I need 2 screens so i've slowly been traning him to sit in a cat tree next to me. it's a WIP for sure. he s a king forever and i hate to ruin his life but mommy must have a job to pay the bills)

exercse? hahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa no. i did buy a stair stepper when i was on morphine in the hosptal tho because i thought it would be KEY TO MY RECOVERY? ma'am. no.

rewatching derry girls once a month becase yes?

have become a NYT games feind. morning: wordle, connections, i am 50/50 on strands but am giving it a try. 9pm sharp: sudoku, the mini, crossword. spelling bee enrages me.

learning my own WFH fashion

getting myself grocery store flowers every week, taking flowers to other poeple every other week

i am so angry about this but...doing laundry on a weekly basis is actually good for my mental health? so now i do laundry on a weekly basis instead of holding for weeks and doing 22 loads in a weekend once a month. (no fear, i am not and never will be the type of functional person who does a load of laundry a day, or, god forbid, pair socks. sock basket or bust for life). i did by a cordless shark vacuum and it's lifechanging.

reading again! have read two books this week which is more than the last several months so that feels nice <3

apparently trauma dumping on tumblr again

venmoing my kids so they'll run snack-based errands

[the-golden-comet]

✨WIP Acrostic Tag 🧞‍♂️✨

Thank you very nic for the tags @thecomfywriter here , @theaistired here and here , @wyked-ao3 here , and @drchenquill here . Y’all are the best 💛✨

Rules: From your story/WIP, find sentences that start with each letter of the given word(s)

My words: VENGEANCE , SECRET, PEACE, REMINISCENCE , CONTROL

Your word: HOPE

Man, this one’s working me hard on YWIMC. I’ll gently tag here and put my sentences below the cut 👇✨

@smellyrottentrees , @paeliae-occasionally , @ceph-the-ghost-writer , @willtheweaver , @ominous-feychild , @mysticstarlightduck , @orions-quill , @nczaversnick , @justabigoldnerd , @pippinoftheshire , @astramachina , @indecentpause , @the-letterbox-archives , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @fantasy-things-and-such , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , @illarian-rambling , +open tag ✨

V

“Very good.”

E

Enrolled in Washington State University, him and his small cohort of grad students accompanied their major professor, Dr. Harding, on his field study.

N

Noah typed some notes on his laptop, yawning as a flight attendant brought him more coffee.

G

Good thing Professor Harding only requires one field study for my thesis

E

Even if Noah reported the misconduct, the professors wouldn’t do shit.

A

Adjusting his cyan glasses over the bridge of his nose, Noah did a quick check of the site they were visiting.

N

“Noah, chill.”

C

Chalk it up to his inactivity, or perhaps he just didn’t circulate well.

E

Everyone began gathering their necessary supplies.

S

Sufficed to say, Noah was not looking forward to the drive.

E

“EWWWW.”

C

Curiously, Noah took a step forward and examined the heirloom

R

Redirecting the light, he’d only hoped it wasn’t another fossil of an unfortunate explorer.

E

Even mere seconds ago, he was laughing at the prospect.

T

The object in question was a golden lamp, shining vibrantly from the flashlight’s beam.

P

“Pass this back to her, please.”

E

“Euuuuuhh……”

A

After soaking the napkins, he discarded the wet, papery residue in his empty coffee cup and placed that in the holder of his arm rest.

C

Cauldwell was no paleontologist

E

Everyone else had made it out.

R

“Remember: We’re not in America.”

E

“Everyone okay?!”

M

“Mashall-ah! Finally….!”

I

“It’s really hot back here.”

N

Noah nearly jumped in his bus seat, startling awake.

I

‘I’d be surprised if the mosque built these temples out of easily malleable materials.’

S

Something about this artifact was….strangely alluring.

C

Cauldwell tripped over an object, which clattered at his feet.

E

“Entertain me, then.”

N

Noah rolled his eyes as he quickly applied a layer of sun protection over his bare, pale arms.

C

Cauldwell rubbed his ribs, checking his feet for his glasses.

E

Ever-knowing, and ever-present.

C

Coughing and sputtering, he held his stomach and groaned out in pain as he checked for serious injury.

O

“Okay, students….”

N

Not that he cared, anyway; he actually preferred to do his work alone

T

The scenery was breathtaking.

R

Reaching into his backpack, he retrieved his sweater and threw it on, frantically searching for his flashlight.

O

“Okay….”

L

‘Let’s quell my mind.’

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Pin Me (5/?)

"Siobhan?"

It's his first question and she chuckles, shaking her head as she simultaneously shakes out her cloth napkin before spreading it over her lap, "Uh, yeah. Max's idea."

Travis waits patiently for her to explain. She plays with her utensils before offering more, "It's like I told you, I was a gymnastics brat in school and when I graduated I was applying for grad school when a friend of mine suggested wrestling. I started off with no ring name, no gimmick, it was pretty boring..."

She wriggles in her seat, "Then Max came along. His father and grandfather really run things, but he's an up and comer, so he was searching for bookable talent. He saw I had the chops, if not the theatrics and offered to help."

Her lips swish from side to side, "Probably would have said 'no' if it weren't for the fact that he dared me."

Travis laughs, "He dared you?"

"Never could turn down a dare." Laura confesses as she sits up, "He dared me to go out one time with a ring name, with a gimmick, and he promised me the audience would respond and I'd love it. That I'd be hooked."

Another shake of her blonde head, "Max came up with Siobhan to play into my background - last name like Kearney, Ireland - you get the idea."

He gives her a little nod to show he does.

"Screamin' Siobhan - a banshee in the ring. I had a battle screech, Celtic intro theme - all of it, and I was positive I'd hate it."

She looks off into the middle distance, obviously reflective, "But...I didn't. The way the crowd roared and cheered and even booed at me...it was addictive. Still is."

Travis can only nod again, but he does get it. All those eyes on you, all that attention - it's the last thing he would want, but her?

Laura's the type who deserves it, who earns it, and he says as much, "Saw you get that same attention in New York. Although now I guess you're a wolf?"

Laura grins, "Yeah, I was Screamin' Siobhan for awhile, but when they brought in Emma and Kaitlyn, the Brinlys decided I should turn face. For awhile there I was Slayer Siobhan, because that's the name of the new intro song they gave me and they thought I looked a bit like Buffy - they tried their hand at a vampire angle, but-?"

"Take it that didn't stick?"

"Eh, the vampire craze had come and gone. They needed a fresher storyline - I mean, this is a soap opera as much as it is a sport, so-?"

Her slim shoulders rise and fall, "Eventually the wolf idea came up. Got me all black gear, the fur shawl. And, once we tried it, people really responded to it. I've been playing the part ever since."

"Well, it's very...thrilling." Travis doesn't like the description he settles on, but he can't think of any classy way to say it's 'arousing'. Especially considering he's probably the only weirdo who finds it so.

Laura beams, "Why, thank you, sir "

"'Sir?'"

"You called me 'ma'am'."

"Mm, fair." He hums in agreement and does his best to avoid the fact that his whole body stirred at her calling him that.

The waitress comes and takes their order - pasta for her, chicken for him - but it's not until they're halfway through their meal and a few wine glasses in, that Travis asks the question that's been burning at the back of his mind, "So, why me?"

Laura makes a questioning sound around her mouthful of chardonnay and he clears his throat, tactfully avoiding her gaze, "I'm, ah, older than you. I'm not...you know..."

Travis gestures to her and she swallows, voice dry, "What? A she-wolf?"

That gets a good chuckle from him, "No, no. I mean, I'm not-? Y'know...impressive..."

Laura's eyebrows knit together, "What makes you think you're not impressive?"

He shoots her a flat look, but she sets her glass down noisily, arms crossing, "No. Seriously. Why do you think that?"

He blows out a breath, "C'mon, Laura, I'm in my fifties. I'm a cop. I'm not married and I never have been. I've got no kids, no real prospects. I still live in the boring backwoods town I grew up in. I'm not very exciting."

"It's exciting to me." Laura argues and her blue eyes are so earnest his heart hurts, "It's stability and it's maturity. I admire those traits. You know who you are and what you like and you haven't compromised yourself for anyone."

His own eyebrows rise, "That's what you think of me?"

Another shrugs and she reaches for her glass again, "That's what I get from you, yeah."

"...better an older man than a boy."

Laura has the decency to look abashed, "Yeah. I know. Kind of shitty of me to use you as a weapon like that."

"Eh, better than taking a chair to the kid, right?"

Her delighted giggle makes his heart pang in a whole other way, "Take it the break up was ugly."

"And then some." Laura inhales, brushing a hand over her mouth to wipe away some excess wine and oh, would he like to be the one to do that, but with his mouth, "Max liked it at first. My being part of the circuit. But when my popularity started to grow, he wanted me to take a step back from the ring. Turn to mentoring or some other aspect of the business."

"Why?" He asks it with true wonder, because Travis really doesn't get it. If Max brought Laura on, if he was the one to promote her in his family's business to begin with, why wouldn't he be happy she succeeded? Wouldn't that make him look good?

"Because he was worried I'd get hurt. Or, better to say, he began to take this stance where his girlfriend shouldn't be up on the top rope doing backflips and going through tables."

"And what should she be doing? Having babies? Giving up on her dreams?" Travis asks with no short amount of acid.

As a cop, he's seen this story play out before. A thousand times. Girl falls in love with boy, boy 'falls' in love with girl, boy changes girl - twists and turns her into what he wants.

It's half the reason Travis has avoided romantic entanglements. He's seen too many end poorly - disgustingly. It's enough to turn anyone off of 'love'.

And it's not as if he's witnessed any shiny examples personally - his parents tolerate one another and his brother Chris's wife, Amelia, divorced him - making it so they have to have shared custody of their two kids.

So, yeah - to say Travis is a fan of love and relationships is an understatement.

Yet here he is, on a date with one of the most enchanting women in existence, one who is looking at him as if he's a revelation as she asks softly, "Are you staying in a hotel?"

The question throws him some, but then he catches the heat in her eyes and the set of her teeth and oh yes, she is a she-wolf, isn't she? One ready to devour him and he hears himself gulp, "I-? Yes?"

"Is it far?"

"Nuh-?" He tries to get out a good 'no', but his throat is too dry, tongue too thick, so he succumbs to merely nodding.

Laura finishes her wine, then puts down her glass and looks him straight in the eyes, "Take me there."

She doesn't have to ask twice.

[moccahobi]

Hello, Goodbye

Summary: “Hello.” That was the start of the most profound relationship Jungkook has ever had. Now graduating, he finds himself reminiscing on his love: Yoongi.

Pairings: Jungkook (BTS) x Yoongi (BTS)

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Shadow loss, grief

Genre: angst

Word count: 1k

A/N: This is part of @kpopwritingbingo. The prompt is Onewe’s Eraser! It’s a beautiful song. Also big thanks to @sugarwithtea​ for betaing this for me!

"Hello. What are you doing here?" Jungkook's head shot up, his eyes struggling to see through his tears. The world around him was vignetting white as he cried in the hideout he found. He thought that no one else went to this place and that he’d finally get some alone time to soothe his breaking heart.

 “I needed some alone time.”

 The dude didn't get the message Jungkook was trying to telepathically communicate and sat down, "This is a good spot for that."

 Jungkook hummed. In the two months he's been at college, it's been his only reprieve. Communal bathrooms, shared bedrooms, & large windows left Jungkook no privacy. His descent into isolation and depression had been on display for everyone to see.

 "I needed alone time too."

 "Ah. Want to be alone together?" Jungkook asked after a beat of silence, not having energy to tell this man to leave.

 "Sure."

The two sat in silence for an hour, the world passing them by all the while. If they cried, no comments were made. The other man introduced himself as Min Yoongi the second meet up, and by the fifth, Jungkook knew Yoongi was a 2nd year psychology student with a shitty roomate & now only one friend. Jungkook had lost all he thought were friends.They’d found each other when both had barely anything and together, they’d build everything. 

By the time he graduates, Jungkook will understand that the people he tried to befriend hadn't meant to hurt him. They hadn’t meant to leave him begging for their help. Like Jungkook, they were just trying to make friends & hadn't quite clicked. They were fresh adults, trying to make sense of the world, and Jungkook just hadn’t fit into the salve of comfort they needed in that confusing time.

 Besides, losing them gained him Yoongi. Losing them gave Jungkook the one person he loves more than anything. By Jungkook's 2nd year the two started dating. The first date was a shy one where they ate lamb skewers in a park, sharing gentle touches & soft gazes. Yoong even gave Jungkook his last lamb skewer, claiming that he was full. Later he admitted that that was a lie.

 Jungkook, the sentimental man he is, saved a clean napkin from that date. It's now framed in a collage, hanging beside his desk, soon to be packed away.  The collage also has an instruction paper from a shoe rack they got and made for their on-campus apartment. Yoongi, mister skilled, made it all on his own with Jungkook supplying moral support through kisses. Six dates into their relationship and they had to plan for housing and although Jungkook was scared of having a roommate, Yoongi had amounted enough academic credits to get them high in the apartment draw. Without Yoongi, Jungkook would’ve been one of the last in the general housing draw, stuck getting a random roomate.

Yoongi didn’t go back to his hometown that summer and Jungkook lived close enough that the two had more dates together. Picnics in the city that rested between college and home. Yoongi would “happen” to have some of Jungkook’s favorite food with him during those picnics or “happen” to have been given tickets to an event that was happening. Jungkook treasured every moment from that summer. Slowly, Jungkook found his thoughts of home shifting. No longer was it where he grew up or his neighborhood. It became a person.

 That was Jungkook's 3rd year. Yoongi was swamped & spent most of his free time applying to grad schools, attending interviews, and crying when they turned him down. Jungkook saw how academia tore Yoongi apart, critiqued everything he did and believed in, and yet academia seemed to be Yoongi’s home. He desperately wanted to get into a PhD program. It was a busy time for Jungkook as well. Pressure to declare his major mounted and he found himself stuck in classes that assigned too much reading and expected too much from him. 

Despite their stress and busy lifestyles they still found moments together. Attempting new recipes, working together, and snuggling in the moments between snoozed alarms became their norm. Their romance flourished in the small cracks, like a dandelion on a sidewalk. Jungkook even managed to create a small cookbook filled with their recipes, their thoughts, and even photos of them cooking together. He had a copy and gifted one to Yoongi

 It was his graduation gift.

 The two walked to their special spot, where they'd first met, and cried together. Once again the world passed them by as they sat there. Yoongi had his program. Yoongi was leaving. Sitting here now, at Jungkook's graduation, feels all wrong. Youngi isn't here. He's across the country working his ass off in a clinical program. When is the last time that they’d talked? Yoongi is still the last contact he called but that’s because Jungkook only ever called him. 

Yoongi isn’t here physically. 

Yet Jungkook feels him all around.

Jungkook takes a deep breath of the air around him, flower petals and pollen drifting in the wind. Yoongi isn’t here physically. 

And Jungkook needs to find a new home now.

 If only Jungkook knew back then then how this would all end. All the caring moments, tainated by the present. Would Jungkook be able to handle it all? Would he be able to handle their first words if he knew what their last would be?

"Goodbye."

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Honey Don't Feed Me (Or Else I Will Come Back)

Jim's a monster hunter, and Claire has been cursed with lycanthropy. Jim's a chef, and Claire's hungry.

So, one day I was thinking about @avirxy‘s Tear Me In Two (The Moonlight Will Anyway) series when Hozier's "It Will Come Back" came on when I was driving to school. This fic idea came to me and gripped me so tightly that I knew that I had to write this, even though it's taken a while because grad school.

You don't need to read Tear Me In Two to understand this fic, but I recommend that you do anyways because it is a wonderful series full of Claire Angst.

Rated T for memory loss and suicidal dialogue.

AO3 (archive locked)

FFN

When he was younger, Jim had hated when his mom was working a night shift. He was scared that his mom would go to work one day and never come home. Now, the night after a full moon? He was thankful that she wasn’t there to question why he was taking a thermos full of soup with him on a walk through the woods, especially when there had been so many so-called feral dog attacks recently.

It was the night after the full moon, and Claire still hadn’t come home. She had disappeared three days before the full moon. Jim had thought she would have come back today, shown up to school exhausted and covered in scratches. She had done that last month and had temporarily put a stop to all the dirty looks that her parents had been giving to Jim and Toby.

Jim could tell where she had been by the claw marks on the trees and the paw prints in the dried mud. And he had seen her in this area. Or at least, he had seen a feral dog with a blue hairclip still stubbornly clinging to her streaked fur. He placed the thermos on a flat rock and opened it. He grabbed a napkin out of his backpack and placed the spoon on it.

“I know you’re here, Claire.”

“Go away.”

“And waste the soup?”

She stepped out from the trees and shadows that had been hiding her. Only a single hair clip clung to her hair, desperately trying to tame her mane of curls into something manageable.

“You can have it.” Hopefully it was Claire’s stomach that growled and not the wolf.

“I made it for you. Besides…” Jim trailed off before he could ask the question. She probably wouldn’t know when she had last eaten. The last full moon, she hadn’t remembered what had happened when she had disappeared. She had looked so lost as she had said it. Claire was amazing in so many ways, among them her brilliant mind. She was one of, if not the smartest, students in their year. She was taking enough classes that she could graduate high school this year (though she’d need an extra year so she could go to college), and she still had straight A’s.

(Or at least she had straight A’s before the dog bite.)

Claire had once confided in Jim that she thought her mind and grades were the main reason why her mom loved her, because having a smart daughter was a status symbol. And now she was losing parts of her mind to the wolf.

“Besides,” Jim said again, “it’s already open, which means it’s already cooling.”

“I don’t want you here,” Claire said, and if it wasn’t an obvious lie Jim would’ve felt like he had been slapped. As it was, the pain of her lie hurt less than the pain of how disorientated and hurt Claire was. When she was on top of her game, she was a much better actress. She was normally capable of making her lies sound seamlessly true.

“I don’t want you around me,” she continued. This was less of a lie.

“I know you. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“Yes, I will.” A huff of sardonic laughter escaped her lips. “I don’t want to, but I’ll hurt you. I’ll hurt all of you. It’s better like this. It would be better if I were gone forever; I’m just too much of a coward.”

It took Jim a moment to realize what she was talking about. When he did, he had to place a hand against the tree bark to ground himself. He was no use to her if he panicked over her words. “I’m not going to kill you, Claire.”

“You should, before I hurt someone and make them like me.”

“You need to eat. You’re not thinking straight. Please.”

Maybe it was the hunger, or maybe it was him, but Claire finally sat next to the soup and picked up the spoon. Slowly, Jim walked to her and placed a hand on her knee.

“You’re making this even harder,” she said, looking at him with watery brown eyes. It was the first time she had met his eyes since the “dog” bite. How long had flecks of gold been floating in her irises? Since her first transformation? Since the bite? She hadn’t had them before.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“No, I won’t. All of Blinky’s books on lycanthropy say it’s incurable.”

“I don’t care. Come back with me. We’ll get through this together, my love. I promise.”

Her eyes widened before she began to sob into his shoulder. Jim realized that this was the first time he had told her that he loved her.

A/N: I swear that when I started writing this Claire wasn't suicidal. But then, when I went to reread (and edit) this fic it made me tear up, so I think it fits the narrative.

[wooahaes]

i hope i'm not too late for the ask game! how about ceo! hoshi with minimum wage service worker reader? i've always found this trope funny - ☁️

omg no ur good! i answered a few last night before i slept for a bit and now im finally back after getting dinner <3 (as u can probs tell from the gap between the last ask and the one before it)

sdfkhdsf i both love and hate this trope bc i both would and wouldnt date a rich bitch. like eat the rich but also.... i would enjoy a money.

despite the nice place you work in, all you get paid for ur server job is minimum wage. the only thing stopping you from quitting is the fact that rich people tip rly fucking well half the time, plus if you laugh at their stupid jokes they'll like you more. insert: kwon soonyoung, the CEO of some company you stopped caring about minutes after you overheard business talk. for some reason, he always comes to this restaurant and he apparently always requests you (your coworker, vernon, says that he said you 'take really good care of him' aka you literally just do your job??? you don't understand it). but the guy does give really good tips (and sorta nudges for his partners to do the same there)...

so u and soonyoung are friendly enough with one another. he asks what you do outside of this (hobbies or school or w/e), you tell him you're a grad student, and hes impressed bc wow u must work hard considering ur always also working here during the day (to which you admit you switched to the online program for personal reasons).

more convos. sometimes he asks how you're doing and its genuinely sweet. sometimes he comes in alone for a lunch by himself and he still requests you. and then one day he asks if you actually aren't interested in him. ur confused, and he mentions he left you his number like... three times on a napkin. he even drew a lil tiger next to it and wrote 'call me! :)' too. ur confused and he says he thinks you're sweet and wanted to ask you out for drinks one day. u admit that u weren't the one to clear the table the last few times, and kinda outright say 'you should have just given me ur number' but he admits he got shy w tht. idk what else to put here rn but maybe u take him up on the offer for drinks and ur worlds kinda open up a bit more as u talk to him more genuinely. he talks abt the struggles of family pressure, u talk abt grad school n family stuff, and u just kinda find a home with one another through tht even though u have two very different living situations.

[milfoiler]

So I just realized I've hit peak unhinged grad student desk

Feature include:

A pile of textbooks and notes that also has the visit summary from my last endocrinologist appointment mixed in

A hunting knife

Two water bottles (both are empty)

Unruly pile of (unused) napkins

A rubber ducky that looks like a dragon

Acrylic craft sealant

Mod podge

4 coasters taped into a stack (it's for an art project don't ask)

My 6 year old surface pro laptop that overheats when I use it to attend online classes

Cough drops even though I haven't needed them for months

A vial of insulin

Insulin pump supplies

And oh yeah my filthy af bong (his name is Biggie)