#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.”

[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)

[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.” 

[ugh-yoongi]

I haven't seen anybody write out Hobi being a librarian and I think that'd be soo cute! Sweet Hobi all smitten on a regular reader, and of course, they're a regular for a reason, but both are too nervous and self-conscious to act on any of their desires.

oh, this is so soft, i love this so much. thank you for sending it in! i hope you enjoy. <3

we're celebrating jess's birthday! hobi hours are: OPEN.

low key, no pressure

pairing: hoseok x reader (no pronouns used) genre: mutual pining, librarian au; fluff warnings: swearing, hobi being a cute disaster, this is kind of idiots to lovers but since the lovers development is implied i didn't tag it that way but just know it's there ok, taehyung is a shithead, mostly unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1.6k

Hoseok is a little misguided, is the thing.

What counts is that he has good intentions, even if they don’t hold up under closer examination. But he’s sort of a disaster of a human, so he takes Taehyung’s ribbing on the chin and forges ahead with his plan.

All because he doesn’t know how to talk to you.

He knows your favorite book because you check it out at least once a month. He knows your favorite flower because there’s a bouquet of them tattooed so artfully on your arm they look painted on. He knows your name and your address and your phone number because it’s in the system, and he has enough sense not to do anything with them.

“You could just—and I’m just spitballing here—say hello.”

Hoseok frowns. “I say hello every time…?”

Taehyung is a year younger, so it feels weird to disappoint him. Settles in his stomach all funny, like he’s doing something wrong but can’t figure out what it is. “That’s not—” Taehyung sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you always like this? Like, this is your baseline?”

“I’m not following.”

“Clearly,” Taehyung mutters. He looks good today, Hoseok thinks. Looks like he’d woken up and put actual effort into his appearance. Looks like the summer has favorites. Doesn’t at all look like he’s on the verge of a mental break, which is more than Hoseok can say about himself. “Hyung, I’m going to ask this point-blank—”

“Maybe don’t? I’m fragile.”

“—Do you know how to flirt?”

Hoseok scoffs, all instinct. Of course he knows how to flirt. He’d flirted his way through undergrad and then grad school with great success. He flirts with the grumpy IT guy the city sends over, just because it’s funny to watch his cheeks turn a shade of red he’d previously thought was impossible. Hell, he flirts with stupidity every single day, so who is Kim Taehyung to ask him such a thing?

“Don’t ask silly questions, Taehyungie.”

“So you’re saying you do?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Taehyung shrugs, and Hoseok sighs in relief, glad that particular interrogation is over. “Flirt with me, then.”

And then he’s choking on his tea, expensive cashmere sweater now soiled with half a cup of honey vanilla chamomile. “You asshole,” he wheezes, barely able to get the words out before his throat constricts again, warning him of another impending coughing fit. “My sister bought me this sweater.”

“Noona has great taste,” comes Taehyung’s easy reply, paying no mind to Hoseok at all, “which is to be expected, of course. Now, please flirt with me once you’ve recovered.”

“Why?” Hoseok snaps, because the way he’s blotting at his sweater with a soggy napkin is humiliating. He doesn’t even have a change of clothes anymore; had taken his gym bag out of his car a few weeks ago when he’d gotten the flu.

Taehyung sighs again—put-upon, like he’s dealing with an obtuse child. “Because I’m trying to facilitate true love, and I can’t send you into battle unprepared.”

Hoseok just glares. He’s going to have to spend his lunch break running back to his apartment to change.

Right, the plan.

It’s all dependent on you sticking to your routine, which goes like this: every Sunday afternoon, without fail, you swing by the library and make pleasant small talk with Taehyung as you return your books. Taehyung, without fail, asks what you thought of them and recommends new ones accordingly. You always smile and say thank you, and your voice always sounds like church bells.

(“That’s because you want to mar—” “I will fire you if you finish that thought.”)

Hoseok is always conveniently absent during these exchanges, pretending to do paperwork in his office. This is why Taehyung calls him a coward, and that’s probably true, it’s just… Hoseok has talked to you enough times to develop a big fat crush, and that’s not acceptable. He doesn’t even know you; doesn’t want to romanticize you and put you on a pedestal.

Hence the plan.

If he can’t talk to you with words, he’ll do it with books.

It’s genius, regardless of what Taehyung thinks.

But Taehyung is integral to the plan, so Hoseok has to get him on board. “Look, I already put it together, I just need you to… suggest it.”

“You mean be manipulative.”

“It’s not manipulative,” Hoseok argues, sending a glare Taehyung’s way. “It’s no different from you suggesting books any other time.”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t just say hi, I really dig your taste in literature, would you like to grab a coffee sometime? It’s not that hard, hyung, you really don’t need to do all of…” He points at the stack of books Hoseok has assembled. “...This.”

There’s about three seconds before Hoseok explodes, and Taehyung must realize it because he’s throwing his hands up and going fine, fine and helping sort the books.

As annoying as Taehyung can be, he really is a great salesman.

Powerful, too, because Hoseok wouldn’t have lasted a second in your presence. Probably would’ve melted under the warmth of your smile; would’ve withered as soon as you strolled in with your tattoo visible; would’ve fallen to his knees the second you said hello.

Taehyung has done none of those things, which Hoseok knows because he’s standing on a chair, watching from the window in his office. He knows Taehyung can see his face peeking through the blinds, keeps rolling his eyes whenever the two of them make eye contact, but he schools his expression and keeps Hoseok’s secret safe.

“I actually have some special recommendations for you today,” he hears Taehyung say. Watches as he hands over the bundle of paperbacks. “Our lovely head librarian thought you might be interested in these. He picked them out just for you.”

You look taken aback. It sends Hoseok into a panic, wondering if he’d gone too far. Maybe he should’ve listened to Taehyung, after all, but surely a stack of books is less forward and weird than a coffee date? You can just not read the books and return them if they aren’t your thing, but turning someone down face-to-face is much harder.

No, no—Hoseok did the right thing. He has to have faith in the plan.

“Wow,” you reply, a beautiful smile lighting up your face. “These look great. Please tell him I said thank you.”

Taehyung’s smile is not beautiful. It’s greasy and smarmy. “Oh, I most certainly will.”

Taehyungie (11:32am): Can’t make it into work today, hyung Taehyungie (11:32am): I’m super sick Taehyungie (11:32am): Sorry 😉

Hoseok can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Kim Taehyung is a traitor. A treasonist. A miscreant. Another word for a disloyal person who is not only willing to abandon his hyung in his time of need, but is gleeful about it.

What could Hoseok possibly have done in a past life to deserve this?

Doesn’t matter, he decides. This is totally fine. Hoseok’s going to prove Taehyung wrong. He’s going to have a proper conversation with you. He’s going to ask what you thought about the books he’d chosen. He’s going to recommend new ones. He’s going to flirt. He might even ask if you want to grab coffee sometime, and he’s going to relay all of this to Taehyung right before he tells him to go to hell.

Just one small hiccup: he has to survive you first.

You’re surprised to see him, and the way your eyes widen makes Hoseok’s heart skip a beat. God, he’s worse off than he thought. Gets worse when you reach the circulation desk and he can smell your perfume: something soft and earthy that reminds him of a spring breeze. Has his knees shaking, on the verge of buckling beneath him, and it’s only through pure spite that he stays upright.

“Good afternoon,” he says with a small wave.

You smile. “Hi, Hoseok. Haven’t seen you up here in a while.”

“Ah, well, you know. Paperwork.”

You nod, but the jerky motions of your head tell Hoseok you probably don’t do much paperwork at your job. “Yeah, of course. Is Taehyung out today?”

“Yep, took a sick day.” He shouldn’t, but he thinks Taehyung deserves it: “Sent me a text this morning and said it was coming out both ends. Seems bad.” You’re grimacing. Oh god, you’re grimacing. “Anyway! Here for your weekly return?”

Like a switch has been flipped, you scramble into action, reaching into your tote bag to retrieve the books. “I—yeah, sorry, let me just…”

“Sure, take your time. Did you like them?”

“Yes,” you answer, gaze slowly rising to meet his own. There are words clearly biting at the back of your teeth and, like Hoseok has done a million times before, you swallow them. Slowly, you hand over all the books but one. “I especially liked this one.”

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. Hoseok had agonized over that one for days, wondering if it was too much, if it’d send the wrong message. Some of the other books were more obvious, but this one was… well. It’s not what was said that’s important, it’s what wasn’t, and Hoseok had concocted that stupid plan because he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

But you’re handing it over with a hesitation that has Hoseok smiling despite himself. “Would you like to hang onto it a little longer?”

“Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” And then, because he’s brave and he doesn’t want to end up like one of Ishiguro’s characters, he takes advantage of a fleeting moment of bravery. “Maybe we could—aish. Would you like to discuss it over coffee sometime? The book, I mean. With me.”

You nod, and your smile is shy. “I would love to.”

[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

[atthebell]

practical advice about college you say?

[the weird spaces between some paragraphs are because i hit the character limit on content blocks which i didnt really know existed until now, fascinating!]

Don't buy too much shit. There will be a lot of things that people tell you are useful— buy things that seem like necessities, then figure out what you need from there. My grandma tried to buy me all kinds of crap and some of it was utterly useless, whereas other random stuff was super helpful (like towels, you should own at LEAST two towels, more if you reallyyyyy don’t want to do laundry).

Decor and things to make your dorm room (if applicable, also relevant for apartments etc.) feel more lived in are excluded from the above; if you want to have a million pieces of art on your walls, absolutely go for it. In fact, other people will think you're cool and want to hang out with you, I'm not even joking. Maybe invest in a bean bag, those are also a good seating thing for small rooms. I had a regular bean bag and then a giant one and it was a great way to have fun seating in my room (I hosted a lot of hangouts/let people just chill in my room a lot, so your personal mileage may vary).

Go find free food. There is more free food than you could even imagine on college campuses, go find it and don't be afraid to bundle some up in a napkin or some Tupperware and take it home. This is genuinely grad student 101 (grad students often don't have meal plans like undergrads) but is very relevant to all elements of college. I was notorious amongst friends and acquaintances for going to all kinds of events and bringing food home, and it was awesome. I could swipe some bagels from a student org social and the next morning I wouldn't have to worry about waking up early enough to grab breakfast from the dining hall or, heaven forbid, cooking.

Along similar lines, keep a decent amount of snacks/food in your room. Do you love trader Joe's chocolate covered almonds? Goldfish? Wasabi peas? Keep a stash in your room at all times. Future you will thank past you, especially when you're feeling down or studying or both. If you have a mini fridge or anything like that, keep a few cold things in there, like Gatorade or energy drinks for late nights or even cream cheese for the previously mentioned free bagels.

Join some student orgs! I assure you that while I have always been an over involved maniac of a human being, I am not anything even close to a social butterfly. You don't have to be, but having a few connections, especially with people in similar circumstances to you (first in your family to go to college, low income, women in stem, queer, latine, whatever your background and/or situation may be). You might not meet people you click perfectly with, but you'll at least be able to connect with people who get your experiences on some level. I truly do not know what I would've done without my college’s first gen/low income program or the Jewish community I found going to various events.

Professors are way more chill than you think. I say this as someone who asked for extensions every single semester/quarter of university i was in and again went to several incredibly prestigious colleges. Many professors are way less hardass than you may think, and some are the kind of people who will invite you over for shabbes dinner and become incredibly important mentor figures for you. The latter are harder to find, but there are plenty of extremely cool professors and TFs and lecturers who are always down to talk about course content or any number of topics. Everyone always says this but go to office hours! It really helps and it's just a great way to connect better with people passionate about the same things you are.

Grades are stupid and bad. This is not specific to college; the focus on grades in all levels of education is ridiculous and counterproductive to learning. This is important for you to know and remember, even when grades DO matter; for transcripts, for grad school, for getting jobs and scholarships and other opportunities. Trust me, I understand that grades matter, but I want you to know that they shouldn't, and you aren't stupid or worthless if you struggle with academics, or if you feel like your grades don't reflect your effort. Grades are a way to standardize (retch) measurement of learning, but they don't show the full or accurate picture. You are so much more than your grades or where or what you're studying.

Take fun classes! I know a lot of STEM majors make it incredibly difficult to dip out of course tracks, but if you can, try to take some fun and diverse classes. Take a gender studies class, take a theater class, learn photography, take a wacky science class, take a language course (this one I want to specifically highlight!!!! learn a new language while you're in a setting that's way easier (for many people) to learn one in!), find a beloved professor from another field and dip your toes in. I took all kinds of wild classes (religious studies is not a major where they fill up your schedule with required classes, at least not at my university) and had a blast, and it's good to have some familiarity with different fields and possibly how they connect with your own. Also it's just fun! You can meet new people and learn a lot from studying something you haven't before.

Be very nice to your custodial staff but know that they are probably deeply underpaid and understaffed. And get to know your housing staff too so you know more about who to call in certain situations. Also get a tool set so you can fix minor stuff yourself.

Don't be afraid to party, but also don't feel pressured. I spent most of my college years in a group of friends who played board games every week instead of drinking, and I personally did not drink until I was 21 for various personal reasons. If people make fun of you, don't hang out with those people. If they pressure you, stay the fuck away. If people are judgy about your drinking/partying/hookup choices? They can go fuck themselves. Find people who respect your decisions, either way, no matter what they are, and anyone else can fuck off.

I didn't really date or hook up in college but I did get hit on by a lot of beautiful bisexual women. If a very hot girl that you want to hang out with in a sexual or romantic context asks you to teach her to play pool, just say yes. Do not shoot yourself in the foot. If someone sets you up on a date with a friend of theirs and you guys vibe better as friends, never let this person go. I'm joking but that's how I met my best friend who I adore perhaps more than anyone else in this world so you never know what the universe will hand you.

Get more sleep. Whatever amount of sleep you're getting, try to sleep more. Sometimes homework or frat parties or boyfriends matter a lot less than just getting a few more hours of sleep, and you will retain information better and feel less like shit. Please get more sleep and maybe drink less caffeine.

Befriend some grad students! I'm completely unbiased (<3) but grad students have a lot of insight about college and life as a young adult, and they're often very cool. They might invite you over to smoke weed and talk about Kant— I cannot stress enough that you never have to do something you don't want, but say yes to this if it's at all appealing. Definitely not another personal anecdote.

Connect with your first gen/low income and/or financial aid office(s). They will have incredibly helpful info, including about getting jobs or scholarships or even just the experience of being low income at college. Also, if you're attending a California Community College, apply for the CCPG (previously known as the BOGW)! It waives all enrollment and tuition fees if you meet eligibility and qualification requirements. I would add more resources but I am a Californian so that's what I have at the moment.

Kind of related, if you're leaving university right now with student loans and you're low income, apply for the SAVE plan to make smaller (or no) payments and less (or no) interest. It's been saving my ass for a while now and it could be helpful for you.

Drink more water. If you need it cold, get a brita pitcher thing and put it in your minifridge if you have one. If not, ice from the dining hall + a decently insulated water bottle. You should be drinking on average 8oz every two hours, or every one hour when it's really hot.

Have a craft or a hobby or a video game or a show or a book or a movie or something that you can do like. At least once a week as Chill Time. Personally I would have some Chill Time at least once a day, but if you are busy to the max, Chill Time once a week is mandatory. Doesn’t have to be the same time every time, but if it is, clear your schedule. That is the only thing happening then. No one gets to interrupt Chill Time. Not to be confused with hanging out with friends, which is still a good activity you should do many times a week. This is Chill Alone Time, where you just sit with yourself and do something you like to do alone. Get a coloring book, learn how to cross stitch, read a book on native birds, whatever suits your fancy.

If you are anything like the hot mess express that I was, you will go to class in pajamas/sweats. This is fine. There are probably some people out there who care about this, but you should ignore them. Similarly, if you, for instance, wake up at 1pm for your 1:30pm class, feel only the amount of shame necessary to make you able to be on time to class (if the prof cares) and nothing more. I stayed up til 4:30am every single night my freshman year of college it is a miracle I was ever awake during the day and the fact that I managed to do my coursework and still have a social life continues to be a mystery to me today. Anyway, your fashion choices in college but especially your first year should never be judged to any significant standard. If you’re wearing clothes at all, that’s commendable.

If you’re on a biking campus, wear a helmet. This is not optional, wear a fucking helmet. Also for the love of fuck have a bike light and use it at night you do not want to be smushed by a car at 3am biking back from wherever you’ve been.

If you do not know how to do laundry, ask someone. Please do not just go into the laundry room with full confidence and dump 16 loads worth of detergent into a washing machine and fuck it up for everyone. Also not a single dorm dryer will ever work correctly. Know this, and invest in a drying rack or be content to fry the shit out of your clothes at 90 minutes of high heat.

Communicate with your roommate(s). You do not have to be friends, you don’t even have to like each other, but you should be on the same page about stuff. Especially re: sexiling, taking the trash out, volume levels, friends over, etc. etc. You don’t want to get to the end of the year and then realize your roommate fucking hates you because you never asked if she was cool with whatever thing you’ve been doing that’s been annoying her.

This is just general young adult life advice but: You will fuck up. Like, probably more than you think. But you will be okay, and you should know that everyone does that. You’re learning how to do stuff on your own, you’re possibly leaving a bad situation or even a great situation into something you don’t know enough about to possibly be prepared. It’s hard! It’s going to be hard for a bit! But you are not the only person who’s done this, and there are a lot of people out there you can talk to and find support from. The worst thing you could possibly do is isolate yourself, so please don’t do that. Find some good people, eat some good food, and for the love of fuck get more sleep.

[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.’

[kennasutopia]

Im biting the bullet and writing my first oneshot, don't crucify me. It was just an idea in my head I wanted to get on paper it's not grammatically correct.

[Posts and hides face behind hands]

Elektra dated Anthony Joshua among others in america where she was the dayghter of a pro aghlete and an athlete herself and her biggest thing with her exs was while she wasn't the biggest into pda at least make it seem like you wanted to be around her. Now AJ was in the london elektra was england based now f I r grad school at oxford. Nevertheless aj was in the club in a section across from footballers who were getting all the female attention. Elektra was there as well with her footballer friend and family connections. Elektra and josko had major chemistry and had a few drinks and really didn't care. Elektra returned from being somewhere and when she gotnback there were no seats, josko pulled her onto his lap. They remained decent for a bit until someone asked elektra something from over the railing and she turned with her head away from josko to answer the person. Josko took that moment to stroke elektras stomach with his thumb and his hand traced down and elektras thighs naturally clinched and the nips got hard, she was putty in josko hands. When his hand traveled to elektras thighs elektra made contact grabbing his hand which elektra balled up in a fist as if telling him to stop and control himself. If people didn't know elekrra was a freak the new with what happened next. A bottle girl game over to refill bottles and drinks and she was at elektras knees saying elektras drink was a cocktail, elektra had a two drink maximum just because diabetes and alcohol are frenimes. The bottle girl handed rlektra her drink and the condensation dripped onto elektra who asked for a napkin and the bottle girl used one in her hand. The bottle girl kept eye contact with elektra who was breathing a bit hard and elektra looked back already seeing josko looking at her, everyone was watching the chemistry between elektra and josko even Anthony from across the room.

In the car leaving the club, Kyle is carpool for some of the guys, josko left eith elektra in her car. The group get to a red-light and Kyle happens to look over seeing josko and elekrra in the backseat of her making out. Kyle jokingly shouts for elektra to take it easy on josko they have training the following day. Elektra leans back on josko knees and looks around before spotting kyle and the lights happened to her eyes perfectly bexause it looked like they were glowing blue. In that moment, josko was kissing the valley between elektras chest before grabbing a handful of her breast's. When josko took a nipple in his mouth is when elektra threw her head back, arching her back, and moaning. Someone from the from seat elektras security saw Kyle's car as well and rolled the windows up for privacy.

John: he's not attending practice tomorrow.

[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.

[azzura]

i'm so sorry your ask got lost!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA but here you are!! (sorry for any errors, i did my best to proofread)

requests are open! read more here and send an ask!

pairing: bubbline length: 1.3k words

-----

caffeine and butterflies

Sometimes, in the midst of chaos, Bonnie can find comfort in the storm. An infamous type A with a nasty habit for neglecting her personal life, (often in exchange for achievement), Bonnie’s only social interaction these days comes from her job at the university coffee shop. 

Rush hour could not come sooner. While it was nice to do idle busy work— restocking napkins, refilling the various creamers and syrups— Bonnie would much rather prefer making drinks and manning the register: Being so busy, she wouldn’t have time to think. 

Hi, how can I help you?

Room for cream?

Would you like that pastry warmed up?

While Bonnie is already an accomplished individual— a known fact, given the amount of awards and recognition she’s received since her high school years, grad school has served her no greater solace in her imposter syndrome. Nagging feelings of feeling mediocre, or questioning the validity of her intelligence, stir in the foremost point of her mind. A brilliant mind no less; Bonnie is nothing short of a genius. Though she has enough confidence to recognize she is some form of one, everyone is their own worst critic. 

It’s a late Tuesday morning when the chaos begins to die down. Bonnie finally has time to catch her breath, and with it, she’s quick to begin tidying up the cafe. Her sense of accomplishment is short. Though Bonnie did everything with pride, the contentment she received from having another successful rush (with no one else but herself, mind you), does not last long. Soon enough, she begins to think again. What is she going to do about her thesis? What sort of innovative topic could she bring to the table? Being a woman in STEM is difficult enough, but Bonnie wanted more than that. She wanted to be a pioneer in her field. 

Wanted? Or wants? The thought is unclear; waxing and waning like the moon.

Bonnie is pulled out of her thoughts when she hears the doors swing open. A regular that Bonnie often remembers. Long, coarse braids are tucked behind the woman’s ears, sporting numerous silver earrings. Her ears are stretched and her nose is pierced with a tiny stud. Tattoo ink coils around her skin, earning the rather obvious gaze from Bonnie. Bonnie feels her heart thump in her chest, butterflies fluttering. Her grip tightens on the wooden stick of her broom. 

Bonnie recognizes her. The regular doesn’t come in often, only once or twice every week or so, but Bonnie recognizes her face every time. Bonnie has seen plenty of people, faculty and students alike, cycle through this cafe like revolving doors. But this girl? Bonnie can never get her cheeky smile out of her head. The silkyness of her voice is sweet like honey. Bonnie’s gay little heart wants to say more than just drink preference and work, but like a coward, the words are caught in her throat.

“Good morning,” Bonnie calls out, making the executive decision to focus on her job rather than the cute girl in front of her. She sets the broom aside and hurries behind the counter to wash her hands, keeping her back turned to allow her some time to catch her bearings. 

Bonnie can feel the warmth spread on her face; Her fair skin made it terribly obvious when she was nervous— a flush of pink on her cheeks. But Bonnie hoped the girl wouldn’t think too much of it. 

“‘Mornin,” She replies, taking her sweet time with approaching the counter. Her eyes wander on the menu, despite it not being the most diverse. Even so, the woman hums, swaying side to side on her feet as she considers her little options. 

Bonnie hovers behind the register, anxiously twiddling her thumbs. “What can I get you?” She forces a smile– It’s small, genuine of course, even if it quivers at the ends. The girl hums some more, clicking her tongue, “Do you have any more of the ‘lil Halloween cookies?” “Oh!” Bonnie lights up, a little too suddenly as she overlooks the empty spaces inside the display glass. Too busy between orders, Bonnie did not have time to restock the front. But did they have any more? Bonnie would bake hundreds of batches if it meant spending a little more time to get to know this beautiful stranger. She crouches down, checking the cabinet beneath the counter. Unfortunately for the girl, there doesn’t seem to be a smiling pumpkin, ghost, or vampire in sight. “No– I’m sorry, can I get you anything else?” Coy, the girl cocks her head, exposing her neck. “Maybe your name. You guys don’t have name tags.” “Um…” Bonnie’s heart might as well explode right then and there. Instead, she chews the inside of her lip and replies with her name, “It’s Bonnie… Did you… wanna order something to drink? We have a couple bagels left…” She looks over her shoulder to motion at a small stack of poppyseed and cinnamon raisin bagels. “Bonnie,” The girl echoes back. Pointed canines peek out of her smile, “It’s funny– You’re cool like a cucumber when it’s busy. Is it too presumptuous to ask why you’re nervous?” Sirens go off inside Bonnie’s ears. Nasty little devil! Sure, the girl was right, but that didn’t mean Bonnie wanted her to point it out! “I-I!” Bonnie stammers, fumbling over her words. Normally, she’s much more poised. Precise in everything she did and focused. It feels so unlike her to unravel so easily– especially for something as juvenile as a little crush. “Relax– I don’t bite,” The smirk on her face suggests otherwise, but Bonnie keeps her thoughts to herself on the matter, “My name’s Marceline. Marcy works too, if you prefer. Just a chai latte, please.” Surprisingly, steam does not appear above Bonnie’s head. She taps away at her screen, inputting Marceline’s order for her charge. Tongue-tied, Bonnie can’t think of much else to say. If she wasn’t blushing before, she definitely is now. Bonnie mutters Marceline’s total and sheepishly takes her card to swipe it. “I was wondering if you had plans this weekend– or maybe after your shift if you’re not busy. The rest of my day is pretty much open. I wanna get to know you.” Marceline takes her card, selecting a little more than generous tip for the cute barista in front of her. “Plans?” Earth to Bonnie. Bonnie’s eyes widen. Suddenly, Bonnie’s memory of her (well designed, handwritten) planner ceases to exist. She shakes her head, shrugging off whatever important event or plan she might have had, “No, I don’t have any plans. Did you have something in mind?” “I guess it would be a little silly to invite you to a coffee shop, wouldn’t it?” Marceline laughs, shrugging her shoulders. “How about lunch? Have you eaten yet.” Bonnie shakes her head. “How do you feel about sandwiches? There’s this place nearby that makes the best sandwiches. I’m friends with the owner’s kid too. Unless…” There’s a hint of mischief in Marceline’s eyes, “You’d prefer something with a little more… ‘pizazz for a first date.”

(continuation here [my reblog])

[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.