#i’m eating apple and cheese slices to feel better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

epigstolary · 2 years ago

Text

The Makings of a Glutton

They say that you are what you eat. And since there’s obviously a lot of you… it’s pretty clear what you eat. But I’m the lucky one who knows just what went into all the meals that made you this way.

Those smotheringly chubby cheeks and those triple chins were barbecue. The piles of pulled pork drowned in sugary sauce, the globs of steakhouse macaroni and cheese, the mountains of creamy potato salad, the tubs of greasy baked beans — you choked them all down voraciously, going back for seconds, thirds, fourths, more. You gorged yourself on pig, and it returned the favor by making you resemble the meals you loved so much. Now your fat pushes your cheeks and jowls out, pinches your nose and eyes, and gives you a porcine look to all the world.

Your love of dessert and sugary confections made those arms. You’ve never hesitated to eat an entire cheesecake slice by slice, eschewing plate and fork in favor of holding each thick wedge in your pudgy grasp and going in like a normal person would eat an apple. You’ll shovel in chocolate mousse cake, fat arms jiggling as you chase every last drop of saccharine, syrupy chocolate around your plate. Your love of all things sweet has left you with arms as velvety as ice cream and as jiggly as custard — your luscious bingo wings cascading down your side rolls, your forearms growing thick enough to wobble with every movement and grasp for your next bite.

Years of chugging sugary soda gave you those massive sacks of flab on your chest. You down thousands of calories of the stuff every day like you’re drinking water, making it your beverage of choice at every meal. Between using it for a caffeine boost from the exhausting effort of just existing under your tremendous bulk, or cooling down from your most recent trip to the kitchen, it’s rare not to see a bottle in your hand. And once you got a machine to make your own soda — letting you overload it with syrup to the point that it could still be called soda only out of courtesy — you’d basically set up an uninterrupted flow of pure sugar. Your tits bulged in proportion, swelling and sagging as you guzzled those empty calories to keep them growing, coming to resemble the industrial bags of drink mix you were finishing at an alarming rate and leaving your lungs underneath feeling like they, too, were drowning in syrup.

Your legs, I bet, we could blame entirely on pizza. Calling them thunder thighs would be a gross understatement. They look every bit like the calories from the thousands — tens of thousands — of slices of pizza you’ve gobbled up have gone straight there. You’ve enjoyed dumping gobs and gobs of pizza — those cheesy, greasy, doughy piles of saturated fat on a plate — into your body; and they’ve transformed into piles of jiggling grease, hanging off your legs in pendulous, shapeless blobs having to be hauled around, step by labored step, on those infrequent occasions when you can be bothered to stand.

Your couch-sized ass is a monument to all the years spent sitting on it and choking down junk food. You just can’t stop stuffing your face with empty calories, as if you don’t have so much junk in your trunk already that you can barely fit through doorways. You like the kitchen well-stocked with chips, pretzels, crackers, cheese puffs, cookies, candy bars — everything that’s been strategically designed to taste good, leave you completely unsatisfied, and make you crave more. All those calories flowing into you between meals has left you with two enormous, wobbling globes of fat on your rear, which either rise and fall behind you with every pitiful waddling step, or else spread out underneath you like huge lumps of dough when you sit. They’re the last thing to leave any seat you take, and their combined couple hundred pounds usually make sure you don’t leave wherever you’ve plopped down for as long as possible. All the better to sit back, gobble up more junk food, and feed them even bigger.

But the biggest, most obvious part of you, has to be that unbelievable belly of yours, though; and nothing could be responsible for that but good, old fashioned fast food. The thousands of bags of fatty burgers you’ve put away, loaded with grease and cheese and bacon; the countless french fries, those carb-laden grease sponges that are the closest thing to a vegetable you get; and the fried chicken nuggets covered in some sugary sauce or other — those have basically been the base of your personal food pyramid since either of us can remember. Add to that the occasional family-size fried chicken meal smothered in sausage gravy, or the pile of takeout burritos loaded with sour cream and cheese, and it’s no surprise where that belly came from. It’s no surprise either that it takes up your entire lap and waterfalls over your knees, burying your body under the weight of its shapeless, blobby mass. A constant reminder, hanging out of your shirt in plain sight, of just how much fattening drive-thru garbage you’ve stuffed down your throat and let turn to fat. An un-hideable, unapologetic, inexcusable sign of your willingness to put your cravings for food ahead of anything else.

And the rest of you — by which I mean, all the hundreds of pounds I’m going to grow on your already pathetically blubbery body — that’s all going to be what’s in this barrel. Mostly cooking lard and corn syrup, but if you’re good I’ll add some flavoring now and again. I’m sure you can imagine some of the ways that could manifest on your body — and that panicked look on your face tells me you don’t have any trouble envisioning where this is going. After we start draining these into your fat gut on the regular, well…

Like I said, you are what you eat. Very soon, you’re going to be eating much more — and I bet there’ll be much, MUCH more of you to feed.

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #weight gain story #gainer stories

865 notes · View notes

queen-haq · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: A Woman Reborn - Part 7

Fic: A Woman Reborn (Part 7)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS.

MasterList (includes links to AWS and previous chapters here)

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

Thank you to the uber-talented @thatbritishactor for this lovely moodboard.

Now…

Your hand skimmed down Matt’s back, his defined muscles flexing under your touch. There were old scars on his skin, extensive wounds drawing your curiosity. Before you could ask about them, he turned around to face you, distracting you with one of his adorable smiles. You smiled back, blushing. It had been so long since you felt this satisfied, happy even, that you just wanted to scream with joy. Before Billy, sex had never really been that enjoyable for you. The only way you’d been able to orgasm was with vibrators or through masturbation and he’d changed that. A part of you had always assumed it was because of your feelings for him that had made the sex so great but maybe that wasn’t the case. You didn’t love Matt, but you did like him, and he also made you come. Maybe it’s because you felt comfortable with him, or that there was no pressure, maybe it was his disarming smile that instantly charmed you. Whatever it was, the last couple of hours had been an absolute blast.

“Hungry?” he asked.

You nodded ‘yes’ before remembering he couldn’t see you. “Shit.”

“You nodded, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry. I forget sometimes.”

He laughed it off, sitting up in bed. “Should we order in?”

You pursed your lips, thinking. “You got snacks around here?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t, do you? You’re one of those annoying people who don’t keep any junk food around the house.”

“I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

“Chop chop, Murdock. I’m waiting.” Head tilted, you admired his very cute butt as he slipped into his boxers and headed out of the room.

Minutes later the two of you were giggling in bed, eating from the random assortment of cheese, chips, cupcakes and fruit he’d put together on a tray. You made a face at the gross taste a grape left in your mouth. “Ugh, no, absolutely not. Salt and Vinegar chips and grapes are not a good combo.”

“You need more adventurous tastebuds,” he teased, popping a chip in his mouth followed by some apple slices.

“There’s no way you eat junk food.”

“Of course I do.”

“Bullshit.” Laughing, you reached out to touch his flat stomach, running your fingers down his abs. “You can’t get these with a diet of chips and cupcakes.”

“Well no, not those.” Smirking, he took your hand and guided it up to his upper ab muscles. “These are from the chips and cupcakes.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah.” He moved your hand to his lower abs. “And these are from the grilled chicken and broccoli.”

“They’re not as nice.” Laughing at the exaggerated pout on his face, you moved the tray aside and pushed him back down on the bed. You straddled him, still chuckling, trapping his arms above his head. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings?”

“Absolutely. I’m crushed right now.”

“Aw, poor Matt. How do I make it up to you?”

“I’m sure you can think of something.”

You crawled down his body and dropped tender kisses on his stomach muscles. “This making you feel better?”

“Maybe…”

Smiling, you traveled lower. “How about now?”

The moan that escaped his mouth as your tongue traced along his body was response enough.

Until he suddenly flipped you over and took charge, and then you were the one begging for more.

***

Next morning you were in one of the conference rooms, listening to Curtis as he briefed you, Frank, Sonia on the assignments for next week. You spent the night at Matt’s and had rushed over to your own apartment in the morning to shower and get ready for the day ahead. Of course you were tired, but you didn’t mind. Last night had been completely worth it.

At that moment the door opened and Billy sauntered in. The smile on your face stiffened. Despite everything that happened in the past two years, your heart still fluttered when your gaze fell upon him. You reminded yourself it was because he was a good-looking guy and it was normal to find him attractive. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t.

Both Frank and Curtis stood up to greet him, huge grins on their faces.

“Bro, I heard you were coming back.”

“Knew you couldn’t stay away too long, Bill.”

“Can’t have you two jackasses trying to steal this place, can I?”

As the three chatted in front of you, the longing for your life from before hit you like a tidal wave. Since you and Billy didn’t have families, it was your respective friends that filled that void in your lives. The barbecues, birthday parties, Christmases and Thanksgivings that you spent with Billy and these guys, the jokes and laughter you shared, it was all etched into your memory.

Then you remembered. You were no longer a part of their group.

While Frank and Curtis would never purposely ice you out, you also recognized that they probably wouldn’t invite you over for things when Billy would be there. It would be too awkward, too tense. And it wasn’t fair to expect them to pick you when they were originally friends. It was one more thing you had to prepare yourself to lose.

“They seem very happy he’s back,” Sonia commented.

You cast her a quick glance before speaking up. “Guys, guys!” You spoke loudly, trying to get their attention. They all turned to look at you. Your gaze drifted between Frank and Curtis, purposely skipping over Billy. “You guys can shoot the shit or do whatever it is you want after. For now, can we just continue? I have things I need to do.”

You felt Billy’s gaze on you, sensed his cocky smile as he took the seat across from you on the other side of the table. His eyes regarded you closely, as if waiting for you to fall apart in front of him or start an argument. You refused to do either. “Curtis, what were you saying about the Halston project?”

Shortly after, Frank was giving updates on the new recruits when you felt your phone buzz. At first you ignored it, assuming it was your mother calling you again. However, when you glanced down, you found a text message from Matt.

“How about apples and dill pickle chips tomorrow night?”

You smiled as you texted him back. “Only if I can wash that disgusting combo down with some bourbon.”

“It’s a date.”

You looked up, biting down on your lip, only to find Billy’s darkened gaze concentrated on you. The smirk had disappeared, now replaced with an expression of sheer jealousy. Your heart started pounding in your chest. The need on his face was so achingly familiar, reminding you of all those times when he was freaked out about losing you. If this was your Billy, he’d fuck you right then to remind you that you were still his and assure himself of the same. That was how it worked, always, anytime he felt threatened.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Frank asked.

You broke eye contact with Billy immediately, chastising yourself for your own stupidity. The asshole in front of you wasn’t your husband; he only looked like him. There was nothing of your Billy left in him and you couldn’t afford to forget that. “Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted for a moment.”

“Maybe pay attention to Frankie instead of texting your boyfriend,” Billy lashed out of spite.

“Maybe mind your own goddamn business,” you fired back. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s not lose our heads,” Curtis preached.

“I think we’re done here, aren’t we?” Frank asked, looking at you. “Why don’t you and I grab a coffee or something?”

Curtis practically dragged Billy out of his chair. “Billy, come with me. I wanna show you some of the changes we made.”

You realized Frank and Curtis were trying to separate the two of you to keep the peace, and you immediately regretted your childish outburst. Billy was an asshole but you already knew that. His sole aim was to taunt you until you lost your temper and you stupidly let him.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you and Frank exited the conference room and headed to the kitchen. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that.”

“It’s fine. It’s what he does. He’s great at messin’ with people’s heads but you just gotta not fall for it, you know?” Frank made you a cup of coffee and handed it to you. “Him wanting to work here again, that’s a good thing. Means he’s getting his drive back. Maybe even his memories-”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Don’t say that. He’s here because he’s worried I’m trying to take Anvil from him. That’s all.”

Frank peered at her closely, sipping his own coffee. “You tryin’ to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither. I’m just trying to move on with my life.”

“He’s been through a lot, Y/N. We all gotta be patient-”

“Are you kidding me, Frank?” You snapped, your voice rising. “I’ve been patient, for two years! And in that time all he’s done is humiliated me and looked down on me and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of him.”

“But things are changing. He seems more and more like his old self every day.”

“Maybe to you, but I only get hate and contempt from him. That hasn’t changed.” Frank didn’t speak, silently drinking his coffee. Maybe he came to realise you were right, but it still bothered you that he’d broached the topic with you in the first place. “You’re here telling me I need to be more patient with Billy but did you or Curtis ever talk to him about not being such an asshole? Being more patient and understanding when I piss him off? Or is it just me that gets the lecture, Frank?”

“Y/N, come on. You know it’s not like that.”

“He’s here one day and you’re already criticizing me.” You shook your head, disappointed. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” You turned around and walked away, angry at yourself. Why did you think Frank would look at the situation from your perspective? He was Billy’s friend, after all. Whatever friendship you’d cultivated with Curtis and Frank had been because of Billy and when push came to shove, they’d choose him every time.

Your phone buzzed. Hoping it was Matt, you checked the screen. The number was from the nursing home your mother lived in. You hit ignore. Ever since your father passed a year ago, your mother had tried to re-establish contact several times but you refused all her attempts. Your life was already difficult as it was, you didn’t need additional stressors to impact your mental health.

“Y/N!”

You turned around to find Sonia rushing from the other end of the long hallway. “What is it?”

“The receptionist transferred a call over to my line. It was from Copperfield Nursing home.” Sonia glanced at you with concern, her voice hesitant. “They’d been trying to contact you since this morning?”

So you were wrong, it wasn’t your mother but the administration office trying to reach you. There must have been an issue with invoicing or something. “I’ll call them back.”

“It was about your mom… they said she passed away last night.”

You stared at Sonia.

“Did… did you hear me?” she prodded gently.

Dead. Your mother. Mom.

You didn’t know how to feel. Actually, you felt nothing. Empty, really. That made sense. She’d never protected you, she actively tried to keep you from leaving home so she wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of your father’s abuse alone. Growing up you resented her for holding you hostage emotionally, for manipulating you with guilt when you wanted to escape. Yet she was the one who took care of you when you were sick, who hugged you and held you and bandaged the bruises your father left on your body. The same mom who worked overtime for months to buy you a doll you so desperately wished for when you were eight.

“Are you okay?”

“Would you please cancel all my meetings this week?” You didn’t wait for an answer, instead heading to your office. You shut the door and locked it behind you.

For a long time you just sat on the couch, eyes leveled straight ahead.

There were things that needed to be done.

Call the nursing home back.

Funeral.

Deal with mom’s stuff.

Mom.

Guilt and sorrow flooded over you and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You fell to your knees, heaving and gasping. You just wanted all this pain to end. Why wouldn’t it end? Why wouldn’t it leave you?

And then the tears hit, and you couldn’t stop sobbing.

***

Then…

Your mother had left another message on your voicemail, alternately weeping with despair and screaming with anger. Your father’s funeral service was held today and while you’d made all the arrangements and paid for everything, you purposely skipped it. There was no part of you that wanted to go to the service and pretend that his death was some great loss to this world. It wasn’t.

When you were younger you used to pray for his death. If he died, your life would be better. You and mom would be safe, you’d never have to worry about physical violence, his fits of rage or the verbal assault. Then when you were older, you started saving money so you could take your mom and run away – except, during one of those rare moments when your father actually showed her some kindness, she’d told him about it and he’d beaten the hell out of you for your insolence. That was the first time you realized you couldn’t trust your mom.

“That thing is annoying. Either turn it off or pick it up.”

Billy’s voice brought you out of your reverie. He’d been out running, something new he’d taken up recently. When he first started jogging, you’d offered to join him. You needed to get in better shape and a part of you hoped it would be something the two of you could do together. Except he’d turned you down, saying Dumont had recommended he do this alone.

You watched as he cut across the spacious living room and headed for the kitchen. As he retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and started guzzling from it, your phone rang again.

“Pretty popular today,” he remarked.

You met his gaze. “My father died a few days ago. The funeral was today. My mom’s pissed I didn’t go.” It had taken you such a long time to open up to Billy and it had been one of the most difficult things you’d ever done. A part of you desperately hoped he remembered something, anything, of that moment when you’d finally trusted him with your heart.

“You weren’t close to him?”

Pain shot through you like a bullet. He didn’t remember anything. There was no recognition, just a polite expression of pity. “No.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

More often than not he was irritated with you, but right now he was offering you compassion. That was something, wasn’t it? “I have to go to Chicago to make arrangements for my mother. She doesn’t want to live alone, so I’ll need to find her a retirement home or something. Would you…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart pounding. “Would you come with me?”

The silence dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. “I’m busy. I’ve got things I need to take care of. Sorry.”

You watched after him as he strode away, shutting you out of his room and his world.

***

Now…

Billy knew something was wrong. He couldn’t explain why he felt so anxious, just that something didn’t feel right. It started the moment he entered the conference room this morning and saw you sitting at the table. Even as Frank and Curtis gathered around him in excitement, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were hot, insanely hot, your skin glowing, your hair beautiful. But it wasn’t just how you looked, there was something different about you that drove him mad. Then you took charge of the meeting and all he could do was sit back and admire you in all your boss bitch glory. Until he saw you glancing down at your phone and noticed that smile.

You weren’t talking to just anybody. It was someone you cared about, someone you liked, because only then would your smile have radiated with such sunshine and joy. Instinctively he knew it was the blind fucker texting you.

It was like a punch to his gut, the pain so sharp and piercing it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time you’d looked at him like that. Of course he’d reacted in anger, and picked a fight even though he knew he shouldn’t. But there was no room for logic or rational thought when you were slipping away and he couldn’t get you out of his head.

Later in the afternoon Sonia had informed Frank and Curtis that you’d be taking the rest of the week off because of your mother’s death and they’d passed the message onto him, with blatant warnings from both to leave you alone. He’d attempted to see you but your office was locked and Sonia refused to let him in. Then he made conversation with one of the cleaning ladies and charmed her into giving him a spare key.

It was after five, people were leaving work. Sonia was a goddamn bulldog when it came to guarding you and he’d waited for her to leave before coming to your office. It was almost six when he unlocked the door and walked in, only to find you on the floor.

Instantly his heart started hammering in his chest, he rushed to where you were and dropped to the floor to check on you. It took a few seconds for him to realize you were sound asleep, not unconscious, and even then he checked repeatedly to make sure you were okay. Gently picking you up so as not to wake you, he moved you to the couch. You were wearing a dress today that reached down to mid-thighs, and he sensed that your bare legs were cold. Unfortunately, there was no cozy throw or blanket he could cover you with. Instead, he removed his jacket and placed it over your lower half.

For a long time he lay beside you, your soft breaths humming his skin while he watched you sleep. There were so many things he didn’t remember but something about this moment of simply watching you while you rested beside him felt achingly familiar. This was an intimate gesture he’d done many, many times before. With a hesitant touch he stroked your cheeks, your skin dried with tears.

You’d locked yourself alone in your office for hours, in anguish, the thought of which unleashed such anger in him that it made him want to destroy the fucking world. You needed to be okay. You had to be. There was no other option.

The subtle scent of your perfume was intoxicating, beckoning him closer. Leaning his forehead against yours, he breathed you in. Only a few weeks ago he found you irritating and cloying, not even remotely beautiful, and now you were ingrained into every part of him, everything about you so fucking dazzling he couldn’t look away no matter how hard he tried.

As he studied you closely, the panic that crept in whenever he got too close reared its ugly head. Last night it had unsettled him so much he rushed to Krista and fucked her just to recalibrate and remind himself of who he was now. His survival instincts urged him to do the same again, to save himself from getting lost in you completely, but then he recalled finding you on the floor, the devastation from seeing you in distress – and he realized the idea of you suffering was worse. He’d deal with his own fucked up mind later. For now, he just wanted to be with you.

You stirred next to him, a change of rhythm in your breathing, and he caressed your arm, trying to lull you back to rest. “Shh… sleep,” he murmured.

Half-lidded eyes brimming with slumber opened to meet his gaze. The lazy, drawn-out smile you gave him made his cock twitch, especially when you reached out to touch his lips. “Billy,” you murmured. Caught up in a dream, you snuggled up to him. “Billy…” you repeated, your head tucked under his chin.

Billy sensed it right away when you withdrew emotionally. One minute you were all over him, the next you’d jumped up from the couch and scurried away. “What the hell are you doing?”

He sat up. “You fell asleep on the floor.”

“So what? It’s my office. You shouldn’t be in here.” You glanced down at the coffee table. He followed your movements and noted the to-do list you’d made. As he shifted forward to retrieve the note, you snatched the paper from his hand and marched back to your desk. “Get out, Billy.”

He picked up one of the cushions on the couch, started twirling it. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Fuck off! I don’t need your pity.”

You pretended to rearrange the stuff on your desk but he clearly saw through your ploy. You were worried he’d been snooping. “I didn’t take anything from your desk.”

“Good. Now leave.”

He stood up, sliding his hands into his pocket. Slowly, deliberately, he started closing the distance between you two. “I heard you crying before. I tried to come in but Sonia wouldn’t let me.”

You stiffened. As much as you tried to compose yourself, he noted the flash of hurt flitting across your face, how much you were struggling to not fall apart. “Why are you here, Billy? To make yourself feel better? You shit on me and then go home and tell your fucking bitch about it?” You shook your head. “If that’s the basis of your toxic relationship, you two are even more pathetic than I thought.”

He ignored the rage in your tone, instead focusing on the grief saturating your gaze. “I’m worried.”

You laughed, the sound bitter and acrimonious. “Why? Because you want to be the only one to break me?” Tilting your head to the side, you sent him a hostile smile. “You don’t have that power over me anymore. So go find someone else to kick when they’re down.”

You turned away from him and walked to the window, your face hidden from view.

“It’s just flashes,” he confessed softly. “Sometimes it doesn’t make any fucking sense, and then later it hits me again. Except it’ll make sense then, there’s context, and feelings that time.”

There was no response, you simply stood still.

“I remembered seeing your mom in person. I followed her to a grocery store. She looked so much like you but older, shorter. That really pissed me off.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke next. “Get out. Please.”

Billy approached you silently, taking his time. “She hurt you. They both did. I was going to kill them, but I knew I’d lose you if I did.” Standing directly behind you, he felt you trembling, as if physically fighting off the tears that threatened to overwhelm you. You were trying so hard to be strong, to pretend her death didn’t matter. Your heart and mind were shouting for reprieve, your grief so potent he experienced it with every fiber of his being. Desperate to console you, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind. You struggled against him at first, trying to push him away, but he was strong, resolute and determined to anchor you and soon you stopped fighting, giving into him.

“It doesn’t matter what she did, how much she fucked up. She’s still your mom and it fucking hurts like hell.”

The dam broke.

You were no longer in control, sobbing violently. He cradled you in his arms and held you, murmuring soothing words. And when the tears left your body and you were physically spent, he picked you up and took you to the couch, nestling you in his embrace while you slept beside him again.

To be continued...

A/N - Thank you for reading as always. Your support in the form of feedback, reblogs and messages are always appreciated :)

I had started a Shadow and Bone fic a long time ago but it never really found an audience. With the show coming back, I’m feeling the itch to get back into that universe. If you want to give it a shot, you can find it in my MasterList.

Tag List:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27 @haushinka27 @caylaxwrites @extraneousred @agentmstark @crazywitchkitty @its-an-idea-not-a-blog @partypoison00 @fictional-hooman @hoglady @helnicks @luckyfreakfishpeach @chiquitita18 @rachlovesactors @icecream50055 @doloreschanal @lupinsfavslytherin @swthxrry @wanderlusting-about-life @dreamer7black @leahnicole1219 @superawesomegeek @weallhaveadestiny @toxicenough @tiiffanym @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @cap-just-said-language @edithsvoice @natashasilverfox @ohsorandomlyme @lupoliatova @alltheloztboys @bl0ckedurl @nothingbettertosay81 @antideppresants @clarissahunter @profoundme444 @shazianazir05 @zos-things @my-day6 @thelightinmyshadows @lincerad @ramadiiiisme @blanchedelioncourt @wondergal2001 @aunicornmademedoit @sarcasm-n-insomnia @outlawadvocate @loki-yoursaviourishere@littlebobree @daybleedsintonightfa11 @fire-treasure-iii @binooo98 @ilsalicechepiangeva @lilypad-55449 @arimistery @evanscavillstan @theblogofb @iamgettingalife @eginv-blog @profoundme444 @derangedcupcake @ just-a-harmless-patato @simp-for-ben-barners

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo x you

385 notes · View notes

subwaysurf45 · 3 years ago

Text

Love You to the Moon and Back

summary: Bucky notices you’re feeling down after a bad injury, he does his best to help.

words: 3817

warning: depressive episode, doctors, mainly fluff!

pairing: Bucky x Reader

Masterlist!

Bucky could tell you were getting bad again.

And it hurt him to see you like this but it always happened after a big mission, your job was traumatizing and it took a toll on all of you. Bucky knew he had his days but he also knew when you finally let yourself slip it was really bad.

You were a very headstrong person, you didn’t like letting people see your weaknesses or just you being hurt in general. So it sucked when you had broken your shin and witnessed a school of kids get blown up by a bomb, maybe sucked is an understatement but it was what you always said.

You had pretended to be a teacher because there was supposed to be a hit on most teachers at a private school, so when the school blew up before everyone was out of the building- including you -it left the memories very crystal clear. There was no way of saving everyone so you saved yourself, and the feeling of selfishness had never been more apparent than right now. You were lying in bed with a cast on your left leg, your left leg was on top of the duvet while the other leg was under.

A tank top and shorts was all you wore even though you were cold. A pillow was placed between your legs down by your shins to keep the injured one elevated, Bucky had stuck it there the last time he came in to check on you.

Speaking of Bucky, he walked into your shared room in the compound.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed as he gently opened and closed the door without making any sound, you had become hyper-aware to sound and light so a loud noise or a flash of a camera could send you into a state of hysterics. Bucky sat himself at the edge of the bed at around your midsection, you were lying in the middle and facing him. You barely said hello, all you could muster was a groan that had the same rhythm as the word hello. “How’s my girl doing?” Bucky rubbed your thigh very carefully.

It was so obviously a rhetorical question, you were absolutely shit and he knew it. You both just stared at each other and Bucky seemed to get the message, he nodded and looked down. The room was so dark from the lights being off and the curtains being pulled you barely registered that Bucky had a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers. Bucky saw you turn your nose up and he knew you would, you had been like this for what felt like weeks.

“You have your two appointments today, you wanna use the crutches or the wheelchair?” Bucky asked as he gently caressed your thigh, a little hum came after a few sections to clarify this wasn’t rhetorical.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled into your pillow.

“Okay…” Bucky held onto the last syllable, he glanced over to the wheelchair and crutches. “How about you have a little snack and then when you got food- and I’ll get water -you can make your choice. You also know you can switch and I’ll be glad to grab it for you, alright?” he did a few quick pats on your thigh before setting the plate down on the bedside table, he grunted as he stood up and stuck his arms slowly beneath you. All Bucky did was sit you upright to eat, you had gotten better at eating and now didn’t need motivation to eat but just a little push at the beginning to keep going after the first bite. Bucky also found if he ate a few pieces from the plate you’d be more inclined to eat the rest.

“Thanks,” your voice was low and barely audible.

“No need, pretty lady,” Bucky got right beside you and grabbed the plate, he placed it between you and let you choose the first piece. “So, you’re at the doctor at two and then Doc at three-ten, do you wanna nap between for a little or for a while after?” he just took a cracker and plopped it into his mouth.

“No, no nap between, I wanna sit outside Doc’s office like before to make sure I’m not late.” You mumbled and stacked a piece of cheese on an apple slice. Doc was your therapist that was assigned to you a little while before your injury, Bucky wasn’t the only one who got nightmares and manic episodes; you probably got them more. Bucky knew he couldn’t go into your therapy meeting, he could physically go in but it went against his morals, this was your time to be alone and completely vulnerable to a human that you only see one or twice a week, he didn’t want you to sugar coat anything just because he wa sitting there.

Bucky nodded and hummed before pulling the notebook out of the bedside table’s drawer, your combat backpack which you used for everything between missions and a picnic in the park was curled over itself in the corner of your room. Bucky picked it up and headed back to bed to let it rest there as he packed. He did this when you weren’t injured, Bucky had sadly realized your memory was a little shot from the amount of bootleg brainwashing and head injuries. You’d constantly forget about appointments or missions, or even the date.

“Baby, I told you, your birthday is today, that’s why I got flowers.” Bucky said and pointed to the counter with the bright flowers on it.

“No…” you rubbed the front of your head. “My birthday isn’t today, I forget the day- but it’s not today, I swear.”

He slid in your journal that you used to write down lists and memories, you had used a guitar pick as your bookmark even though you can’t play anymore. Sometimes when you’d show up to a therapy session you’d forget what you wanted to say, it hurt him when he’d walk you there and you’d be saying the list of things under your breath with your eyes closed. Nightmare, mom, picking my nails, ankle, nightmare, sand, flowers.

“We gotta go soon, anyways, wanna get ready for the day?” Bucky softly asked, there was no nice way of telling your loved one they needed to shower.

“Sure,” you looked down at the plate and grabbed the last of it before getting up, the apple and cheese was just curled in the palm of your hand, as you walked over you shoved it all into your mouth because you knew you had to shower and you didn’t like soggy cheese.

“I’ll keep packing your bag, and I’ll fill a water bottle for you.” Bucky had been your human crutch as you walked to the bathroom, you had an itch down in your cast that was bugging you.

Tony had wanted to add tech to the shower to help you stand because putting pressure on your left leg hurt after three minutes and seven seconds- not that you were timing to see how long you could go without collapsing. You had said no to tech and just asked for a bar, Bucky even thought it would be cool but it was all up to you.

Bucky helped you slip out of your clothes before leaving you be, he knew he would have to check on you periodically because you were too stubborn to ask for help if you had fallen or couldn’t get in the shower. You gripped onto the metal bar and helped yourself slip in, you turned the water on right away.

You liked warm, long showers. You just let the water hit your skin as you stood in front of the shower head, the water pressure was high so you let the bullets hit your face when your eyes were closed. Your hair got wet as you stood there, you reached for the bottle of shampoo and expected it to be where it always was. The was getting into your eyes and when you squinted to see where the bottle was everything was double, as you reached for the bottle you had actually reached for the fake double and knocked the bottle off the ledge. A loud thump rang through the bathroom and it sounded like a bomb.

There was one second of silence before you heard scrambling from outside the bathroom door, all at once you could see the door swing open by its shadow through the curtain. The curtain was pulled back so hard a couple of ringlets holding it up were ripped off.

“Baby?” Bucky yelled before he registered you were standing upright. “What?” he breathed heavily, he was completely expecting you to be passed out on the floor with a cracked skull.

“Shampoo bottle,” you said meekly.

“Oh, thank god…” Bucky sighed to himself as he reached down to pick it up. “Are you hurt at all, did you fall?” He placed the bottle back on the ledge which made him reach across your naked body, on his way back his hand touched your shoulder then went to cup your cheek and move your head to look at him.

“I’m all good, babe.” You smiled, an exhausting smile.

“Alright, back-is-packed, finish up and I'll help you over to physio, alright?” Bucky closed the curtain to give privacy but waited for a verbal answer.

“Perfect, thank you.” You grabbed the bottle again, your heart ached for him to be in the shower with you, it was something you did all the time before you were injured.

“Don’t thank me, pretty lady.” Bucky reached for the door and opened it, before he could walk out, your voice quietly called his name, he could barely hear it over the water in the shower. “Yes?” he replied with the same softness.

“Stay here with me, please.” the ‘please’ came after a beat, and extra plea.

“Always,” Bucky sat on the toilet seat and gave the company you needed as you tried to stick your finger down your cast to itch that one spot on your leg.

*****

Soon enough you were sat in the physio room, Bucky was off to the side with paper work in his lap and a binder in your backpack he packed for you. You liked the moral support when you were here because you never really had the best experience with doctors, Bucky would act like he wasn’t even there. That was a good thing, he did need to be the hovering boyfriend all the time because that can get tiring for both parties. He’d look up and listen to the doctor near the end, Bucky would write down the exercises and when to do them so he could gently remind you later.

“Alright, you’re gonna get a new cast next week,” the doctor smiled at you, when you didn’t pick up on the excitement the doctor’s smile faded. “That means three quarters done!” Bucky had looked up and smiled, even clapped a couple times.

“Then I have to learn how to walk again,” that was an exaggeration but it didn’t feel like one.

The doctor gave a knowing look, “why do I feel like you’re already walking without the crutches?” You didn’t say anything because it was true.

Your leg was examined and x-rayed, Bucky held onto your necklace as you went in. Your mind faded in and out as the doctor spewed ‘doctor stuff’ at you, you just didn’t have the care to listen; but Bucky did. He’s the type of guy to take notes and research later.

Bucky would look over and see you looking at the floor, not even paying attention. He knew he couldn't get mad at you, you both dealt with injury very similarly. But something about seeing you shut down entirely made his heart ache, he wanted to reach out and lift the corners of your lips up into a smile because they seemed like they were being weighed down, he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and real smile. He hadn’t been going on mission to keep you company, but now he knew his most important mission.

He walked you over to your therapy session that was still in the building, your Doc would come to the Avenger tower. He’d walk you right to the door of some random debrief room and kiss you goodbye. Bucky would hold your shoulders and gently rub your arms to hype you up before going in, he gave his little speech and said the same thing after.

“You know I love you, and I know it’s hard.” he’d then kiss your cheeks and forehead. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, don’t even sweat it, pretty lady.” He then wouldn’t leave until the door closed and he heard muffled voices.

The tower was right in the heart of the city, everything he needed was right there and a walking distance away. He slipped on a long sleeve and his gloves, he knew you took the backpack but you also had reusable bags, he took a few and headed out into the summer heat, it wasn’t humid today which was great but it wasn’t cold either. The tote bag was slung over his shoulder, all that was in it right now as a list.

flowers

chocolate

card

stuffed animal

To call Bucky a romantic would seem weird to someone who only knew of him from the news or a museum, you knew him as a total hopeless romantic. Even in the 40’s, Bucky was the type of person to keep their walls up until he really got to know and trust you. It would normally be one little thing that would allow him to truly be himself around someone, he let his guard down that day you were walking to the restaurant he made a reservation at, Bucky placed himself so that arm or hand you’d hold would be his right but when you caught on you walk around him and looped both arms around his left, metal arm. After that, he was goner.

He’d leave little sticky notes everywhere, a blue square paper in the coffee mug that read: ‘make sure you only drink one cup!’ or another on your shampoo bottle: ‘you look great naked ;)’. Bucky knew the little things mattered to you and vice versa, he knew that grand gestures didn’t mean anything without a little kiss that came before.

The flower shop smelt great, Bucky didn’t know much about plants but he knew which ones you’d like. He was thinking of putting one on each bedside so whenever you’re lying in bed- which was a lot -you could look at some pretty flowers. They were a nice shade of purple and the stems were not too long, Bucky bought them and put them gently in his tote bag before heading over two stores to the grocery store you always shop at.

He was envyus of your clean eating, you’d eat what you want but you’d shop at fermer’s markets and organic stores. Bucky didn’t know it made a difference. He went to the frozen section and found chocolate covered strawberries. Bucky picked up a little pack of eight and headed to the front. There were also flowers there but they didn’t look nearly as nice. All he wanted was a very simple cute card with a blank inside, they were easy to find. It was cream coloured with a little sketch of a fuzzy, brown teddy bear holding a yellow balloon. All it said in dainty cursive at the top was: “look at you go!” Bucky knew this was perfect. Near the cards were little toys and stuffed animals. He found a bear that looked eerily similar to the one on the card but without the balloon.

As he walked into the Avenger’s tower the bag was full and he had enough time to spare to set things up. Bucky headed to the rooms and made the bed, he changed the sheets as well because he knew you liked them when they were crisp. The teddy sat right in the middle with the card next to it. Bucky had written a little note that covered the entire right side of the card. He got a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with ice, he also found that white wine you liked and stuck it on there with the strawberries just to keep them cool but not melted.

Bucky glanced at his watch and felt almost giddy as he realized it was time to head over to the conference room, he had to work on not giving it away when he’d first see you with his wide smile. The walk to the room was quick because of how fast Bucky was walking, he turned the corners sharp and almost jogged down the hall down the meeting rooms. He only stood there for about three seconds before the door slowly opened, Doc had opened the door and helped you out. Bucky’s smile turned into complete worry when you walked out holding a tissue to your nose, your eyes were red and puffy. Bucky also noticed that your fingernails were red and bleeding, that was one habit you were currently trying to break.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked in quiet disbelief, his eyebrows almost touching.

Doc gave a curt nod, “we talked about a lot of things,” her answers were always so vague.

You sniffled and waited for Doc to leave down the hall, Bucky was still looking at you. His hands held your shoulders and gently massaged the answer out of you.

“It was a good cry, I needed that.” you sighed from exhaustion.

A little piece of Bucky’s heart broke, if you needed to have a good cry then you could have told him, he would’ve listened. Bucky started to go back and see where it went wrong, if he was too overbearing and if this whole afternoon he had planned was created at a very wrong time. He wanted to ask what he did wrong but what came out was different. “Well that’s good to hear, I know Doc is good at that- helping you out.” His words were true but something about the delivery made it seem uneasy.

“I just-” you looked to the ceiling and hoped to find the words you needed written there. “I like flushing it all out to her because I won’t see her for a week and I don’t need to keep up with what I’m feeling. I always cry to you but Doc is just really good at explaining how I feel, you’re there to validate it and make me feel soothed.” You held his left hand as you both walked down the hallway. “I feel lighter, like, I feel better.”

“That’s always good, sweetheart,” Bucky made sure you were putting weight on him because you didn’t bring your crutches but you really should have. “I have a little treat for you,” He turned to face you when you both stood at his door, Bucky kept his hand on the door handle. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks but I hope you know I love you all the same, and all I see is my strong, beautiful girlfriend.” Bucky saw your confused face, as he opened the door to reveal a dim lit room with flowers, wine and a teddy your eye welled up with tears again.

You gasped and put your hands on your chest, “for me?” your voice shook as you walked in, you peered into the ice bucket to see your favourite wine and some food as well as a card beside the ice bucket, under the teddy. Tears flowed down your face as the feeling of being overwhelmed washed over you, you could barely string a sentence together. A hand waved the gifts all away, “too much,” was all you could muster.

“No, baby,” Bucky smiled, he walked over and pulled you into a hug. “Nothing will ever be too much for you.”

He let you cry in his chest for a very long time, you both ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as he stroked all the way up your back. His hand would bunch up your hair as he went up to your neck. His lips were right at your ear, all he whispered were sweet nothings and a calming ‘shh’ once and a while. When you had a little composure Bucky reached for the card, as you read it your lips trembled even more. A hand stayed glued to your heart as your body warmed at loving words, you could barely read it with blurry vision from the tears but it still seemed crystal clear. Your finger traced over the signature: ‘love you to the moon and back, Bucky’. And you crumbled again, your forehead hit his chest as you cried away all the pent up emotion you thought you flushed out at your therapy session.

With all the crying you were so tired, Bucky had thrown on a movie you two could watch while enjoying your strawberries and wine. You only had two and half a cup before you were snoring on Bucky’s shoulder, he tried to nudge you a couple times but nothing worked at all. He watched the movie on his own and saved the last two strawberries for you in the morning. You didn’t even wake up at him getting up and leaving the room. When he came back he got you out of your day clothes and into something comfy.

*****

You woke up to the sun hitting your back, when your eyes opened they focused on the flowers and a smile graced your face. It was the first time in a long time since you smiled with your eyes, a little giggle even slipped out.

At that sound Bucky walked out of the bathroom, “well there she is,” he smiled wide.

“What does that mean?” you wiped the drool from the side of your mouth, “I had a nap, a really good one, too.” You seemed to be bragging.

“A nap? Baby, it’s eight.” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Ya, I fell asleep at about five so I had a three hour nap, no biggie.” You rolled on your back and stretched out, your gaze moved back to Bucky when you heard a giggle, “what?” you laughed back.

“Eight in the morning, the next day. Your three hour nap was actually a well deserved fifteen hour hibernation.” Bucky joined you on the bed.

“That’s why I feel so good,” you sighed, you looked over to Bucky and swatted his chest at his little smirk. “Don’t think like that.”

“I bet I can make you feel just as good-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

417 notes · View notes

klutzykozume · 3 years ago

Text

allergies

featuring: tsukishima kei (feat. other members of karasuno and most of the gym 3 squad)

warnings: mentions of food, lowercase intended

length: ~600 words

tsukki is has a really mild allergy that he didn’t know was an allergy until he makes a comment in front of the team

playlist

a loud BANG fills the gym.

“OH YEAH!” tanaka yells, running up to tsukishima, “nice block tsukishima!”

tanaka wraps his arm around the back of tsukki’s head, pulling him down to give his teammate a nuggie.

tsukishima pushes tanaka away with a scowl as he fixes his hair, “i know.”

“alright!” keishin clasps his hands together, “let’s take a break!”

the karasuno members slowly clear the court and make their way to the sideline.

“tsukishima!” hinata bounds over to the taller player, “where’s yamaguchi at?”

“he had a doctors appointment today,” tsukki responds blandly as he sits down against to wall.

kiyoko and yachi approach hinata and tsukki, each with their hand outstretched.

“you both should eat something,” kiyoko says handing a small tray of food to tsukishima. the tray consists of cheese cubes, almonds, and apple slices.

“yeah! to replenish your energy!” yachi hands hinata his tray with a smile.

“thank you,” both hinata and tsukishima respond to the managers.

the team ends up sitting in a circle around hinata and tsukishima.

as the team sat and chatted with one another, noya, who was so sitting in the other side of tsukishima, looked over at tsukki’s tray, “do you not like apples or something? you’ve barely touched them.”

tsukishima glances at the libero, “i like then yeah, i just don’t like the tingly feeling that comes with them.”

the group grows silent.

“what did you just say tsukishima?” daichi looks away from suga to turn to the middle blocker.

“that apples make my mouth tingle,” tsukki looks over at the captain in slight confusion.

“are you allergic to apples by any chance?” asahi asks.

“i don’t have any allergies.”

“who knew the high and mighty tsukishima would fall to a few apples,” sugawara quips.

tsukishima starts to stand up, “i think coach ukai is calling us back over.”

and the team goes back to practice.

kei goes home and talks to his mother about the situation.

“it’s like the thing i had with blueberries,” akiteru comes around the corner holding a few grocery bags.

kei glares at his brother, “i wasn’t talking to you.”

“yeah, but i know the more about it than mom does. i went got to experience it. it’ll go away at some point. it’s just a mild allergy,” akiteru starts to out the groceries away.

kei looks to his mother, who gives his a warm smile and a nod.

‘they’re never going to let me like this down,’ kei thinks to him self.

bonus:

“tsukki, here i brought you something,” kuroo hands tsukishima an apple.

tsukki pushes the apple back into kuroo’s hands, “no thanks i’m good.”

“stingyshima can’t eat apples. he’s allergic,” hinata grumbles from beside kuroo, still angry at something that happened before their lunch break.

“WHAT?! THE BIG, BAD TSUUKI-DUDE IS ALLERGIC TO APPLES?!” bokuto yells in shock, gaining the attention of a few people.

tsukishima glares at bokuto and hinata, “ thank you for telling all of japan.”

“keep it down bokuto,” akaashi says to his ace from nearby.

“it’s just a mind one. it’ll only make his mouth tingle, but he just avoids them altogether,” yamaguchi chimes in from behind his best friend.

“you too tadashi?” tsukishima looks back at yamaguchi.

“it’s better for them to know,” yamaguchi replies with a shrug, silently asking kuroo for the apple with an outstretched hand. kuroo hands the apple to tadashi who takes a bite of the apple, “especially if you’re going to spend so much time with them.”

a/n: yes, this is based on the fact that i have a mild blueberry allergy. on anther note, this disappeared three times as i was writing and saving.

#haikyuu #tsukishima kei #hinata shoyo #kiyoko shimizu #yachi hitoka #nishinoya yuu #daichi sawamura #asahi azumane #sugawara koshi #tanaka ryuunosuke #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima akiteru #.karasuno #.nekoma #.fukorodani

29 notes · View notes

wordsinwinters · 3 years ago

Text

Then Again, Chapter 28: Secrets of a Teacher’s Pet

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. Masterlist (with AO3 links) Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you @girl-tips-from-satan @lilbeatlebear

Then Again, Chapter 28: Secrets of a Teacher's Pet

(Word count: 4,134) Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, High school lunches are abominable, and should be illegal. I swear, what passes for pizza, macaroni, and even grilled cheese might as well be scraps of cardboard stuffed with some sticky yellow substance of unknown origins, as opposed to anything healthy or vaguely edible. The vegetables available aren’t much better: they give off the look and odor of something that’s been canned for a few hundred years before being briefly stuck in a microwave and dropped into a metal pan. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. They’re just super bland and tasteless. But don’t get me started on the very real danger of the milk that’s required with cost-reduced or free meals. After getting one that’s curdled like cottage cheese or a slimy, soupy sort of solid, you learn not to trust them. A lot of kids take them because they have to and immediately dump them into a garbage can on the way to their table. The bagged apple slices aren’t too terrible though, given that the flavor hasn’t been boiled or steamed out of them and there’s no reason to doubt what they’re made of. Luckily for me, Peter’s gifted stash of snacks in my locker from yesterday held over to today and I’ve been eating enough during breaks that I’m only hungry enough for the apples, able to avoid all the other barely tolerable options for once. I’m as grateful for that fact as I was happily surprised to find he managed to remember and pick out my favorites. (Michelle probably helped him.)

Walking to the cafeteria ten minutes late is an uncharacteristically peaceful experience. The usual, deafening current of hundreds of teenagers rushing to their next class has been replaced by a trickling stream of occasional wanderers strolling along with hall passes lightly held in hand. It’s a calming change of pace. Still, as I draw closer to the cafeteria, the sounds of classes beginning behind closed doors grow softer, slowly overlapped by the swelling chaos of first lunch. It’s funny how approaching this part of the school during lunch feels like walking into a roaring tsunami of cacophony, but once you’re inside it talking with your friends, the enormity of it muffles into a tame tide, as if an invisible barrier has stitched itself together around the table. (At least if you’ve had enough sleep, that is. After another long night of texting with Peter, I’m not sure I’ll be able to block out much of anything.) By the time I turn the corner of the last hallway and head to the lunch line, most people already have their food and are sitting at their normal tables — my friends included — so it takes no time at all to maneuver through the pizza side. I grab a bag of apple slices from the tin pan beside the soft pretzel warmer and quickly get to the register. The lunch lady punches in the code for the apples as I swipe my ID card and type in my passcode, four little beeps quietly popping up through the bursting bubble of cafeteria noise. Like every day, I thank her and she offers me a tired nod in response. Then I make my typical path toward my friends sitting in the middle-ish back area. A few tables away from Michelle, Peter, and Ned, more toward the front, Abe and Sally are sitting with their other friends, including Flash. That must mean Monday was an anomaly like I suspected— just a chance to collect the last morsels of gossip about the trip before everyone slid back into our normal school routines. (Surprisingly, neither of them asked about or alluded to the pool incident, thank god, though Flash must’ve told Abe about the accidental blackmail thing because Abe whisper-asked me about it once no one was paying attention. As soon as I said it wasn’t a big deal and I’d rather Mr. Harrington never hear a word about any of it, he nodded and let it go with a subtle “OK” hand motion.) Suddenly, Peter whips his head around and catches my eye. He jumps out of his seat and rushes to meet me halfway. “Hey!” he says, smiling and slightly breathless a moment later, hair lightly ruffled from the mini-jog. “How come you’re late? Ned said you stayed after class, but he didn’t know why.” Then, looking at the lone bag of apple wedges in my hand, “And where’s the rest of your food?” As we make eye contact again, I try to ignore the swooping sensation in my stomach: I have been trying, really trying, to get used to his energy the last few days — to his wider smiles and the abrupt return of his sincerity — but his spontaneous excitement in moments like this still causes butterflies, as much as I resent the fact. Even so, his energy is infectious and, undeniably, pleasant. I find my lips itching to mirror his bare smile, and do my best to hold it back. “I stayed back to talk to Profé,” I explain as we walk together, “about the skit that’s due on Friday. I wanted to see if my group could just perform it for her tomorrow while everyone’s out recording theirs.” I glance at him and the crinkle around his eyes makes it clear he knows me too well. “You mean get out of having to watch your own video on Friday.” “Maybe.” I keep my gaze on our table as we approach it, shrugging and hoping my guilty-as-charged grin isn’t too obvious. The deal I made with Profé is normal for the two of us. It’s usually the group members who make it more of a struggle, refusing to cooperate because they’d rather procrastinate than memorize their lines a day early. (If they’re even willing to memorize their lines. 75% of the class just reads from a paper someone else has to hold up behind whatever phone or iPad they use to record it— even though Profé

takes off 5% of their total project grade if she catches it. And she always does.) Luckily, my group for this one was just as happy as me to get out of the awkward recording process and the even more agonizing experience of watching it on the whiteboard the following day, forced to sit still and confront our stale acting and terrible, underdeveloped accents. “What’d she say?” “She said it’s fine,” I say, climbing into my seat across from Ned and Michelle as Peter sits beside me. “As long as I help her grade the quizzes from her first year class once we finish.” Ned and Michelle let their conversation about Chemistry fizzle out to join ours. “Such a teacher’s pet,” Ned says with a wave of his hand. “Always manipulating the system for your own gain.” I give him a sarcastically sour look. “If you made fewer jokes like that, I could still be grading ours.” Last month, Ned just had to make a comment about me changing his test answers. As much as Profé likes me and would be happy to hire me as a personal assistant, she couldn’t keep handing me my friends’ and classmates’ assignments after he said that in front of everyone, which is fair. Plus, even though I enjoy helping her, it’s nice to have more time to socialize, especially since Ned, Betty, and I sit next to each other. It also helped me feel less guilty, seeing as I had actually done it. “But it wasn’t a joke, right?” Michelle clarifies, reading my mind. “You did change Ned’s answers for him.” Ned sighs, glancing down at his plate to spear a broccoli floret with his fork. “And I should’ve been more grateful, I know.” He looks back up, clearly amused. “But it’s just so funny to freak you out.” “Funny to you, maybe.” Objectively, it was pretty funny. I was walking up to Profé’s desk to hand in the stack of freshly graded tests when he very loudly asked me to change his answers on the next quiz too — which a few people laughed at, assuming it couldn’t be true if he had blurted it out — and it took me so off-guard that I turned and smacked right into someone else’s desk, hard enough it felt like I cracked my hip bone on it, triggering an ill-timed “Jesus!” Immediately, someone called out, “It’s pronounced Hay-soos in this class!” Even I could recognize the humor in it, once the pain had passed a minute later. Profé was still shaking her head in pity as I hobbled over and handed her the papers. Her tone of voice conveyed a sort of disappointment and inconvenience when she said that, well, maybe it’d be better if I didn’t grade this class’s work anymore. “Wait, for real?” Peter asks, brow twisted into a quizzical disbelief. “You’ve never done that for me.” Michelle’s mouth quirks into a (prideful?) smirk. “She’s done it for me.” He looks between the two of us, surprised. “You’re not in my Spanish class, though,” I tell Peter as I open my bag of apples, hoping the meager defense will assuage him. “Neither is Michelle!” “That was for our World History class.” “And AP Psych that one time,” I admit reflexively, remembering. I reach over to her plate and swap a few fries for a slice of apple. “Wow, okay then. I see how it is.” Peter leans back as if against an imaginary wall, squinting at me, eyes glinting with teasing sarcasm. Like I said before, as much as I’m trying to get used to our new dynamics, it’s hard to pretend this playful attitude isn’t incredibly attractive; we’ve always teased each other, but something about the nature of it has shifted. It’s more fun than before. I lick my lips to get rid of the salt from the fries and ignore him. Meanwhile, Michelle takes the apple piece I gave her and holds it like a cigarette. “Not to defend the cheating, lying, and overall academic fraud she’s committed,” she says, “but she was responsible for messing up my World History test right before we took it.” She bites the apple and chews for a moment. “We were quizzing each other on our way in and she said Genghis Khan went— what was it? As far west in Europe as Germany and as far east as Lebanon in the Middle East.” “Instead of Poland and the Levant,” I

repeat, the words having haunted me for weeks afterward, the answer seared into my memory since. “But Poland has been taken over by Germany at different points and it was fragmented when he got there. Plus, Lebanon is in the Levant, so I wasn’t totally wrong.” Michelle makes an “Exactly” gesture with her left hand. “And that’s why she corrected her mistake on my paper.” She notices me about to sneak more fries off her plate and swats my hand away. “And since I didn’t change my own answer,” I say, returning to my own food, “it wasn’t really cheating.” “Ha.” Her laugh is flat, but bright. “Only because you used a pen to take the test and were too scared he’d notice a scratched out answer that wasn’t there before.” Before I can (in bad faith) refute that, Peter interrupts. “Wait, what about the Psych one?” I pause and smile, remembering one of the reasons I love our Psychology teacher. “It was just an extra credit question: ‘Who is my celebrity crush?’ Michelle wrote Antonio Banderas instead of Dwayne Johnson. It was only half a point. Antonio Banderas is her mom’s crush, which she talked about in class a bunch of times, not hers. Easy to mix up.” “And Ned’s Spanish quiz?” Ned coughs on a bite of spaghetti he just took, quickly taking a drink of water to recover. If he’s nervous about me explaining that one, I’m surprised. He and Peter usually tell each other everything, and the truth isn’t really embarrassing anyway. “You wanna cover that one?” I ask him, just in case. “Nah. Go ahead,” he shrugs, unbothered. That’s more normal. A noodle must’ve just gone down the wrong way. “It was a few weeks ago,” I explain, “when we first started making our plans to study for the decathlon, I think? Ned was super stressed with it all and had a bad case of test anxiety. He told me he knew the right answers, he just freaked out in the moment.” Peter’s eyebrows raise and he looks pointedly at Ned, whose lips are twitching. “Ned doesn’t get test anxiety,” he says, staring at him. “I think I remember that, actually. He just didn’t study. He stayed up all night and then freaked out in the morning saying he was gonna fail.” Before I can react, Ned erupts into the same giggles I heard from across the classroom when I smacked into that desk. Michelle’s eyebrows lift, though she seems unsurprised; if anything, her expression is practically a mental handshake of congratulations to Ned for successfully cheating the system. (The system being me.) “Okay, okay!” He puts his hands up to defend himself. “I lied, I know, and that’s bad, it’s a bad thing to do. But my GPA, my chances for college admissions, shouldn’t suffer because I’m bad at conjugating verbs in a third language.” He turns his head toward Peter. “And I did want to study more, but someone convinced me to play video games that night instead.” The attention of the debate swiftly turns away from the ethics of test answer “editing” to which of them is more likely to put video games above school work. As the boys argue, Michelle and I continue eating in relaxed silence. Even though the two of us have been texting and talking less the last couple days now that my conversations with Peter have become more time-consuming, we’ve settled back into our usual, stable friendship without any lingering oddness from the weekend. Thank goodness. My eyes flit to her at the thought, then quickly back to the boys. As they do, a gentle wave of comfort and humming warmth envelopes me. It’s a new sensation, one that’s easy to sink into and strange to explain. (And randomly recurring since Sunday morning.) Although it’s similar to the solace I feel when I appreciate that Michelle (and Ned) won’t be abandoning me anytime soon, like I briefly assumed over the weekend, I’d be lying if I didn’t own up to the fact it’s undeniably reserved for Peter. It’s been happening here and there during the most unexpected moments ever since we apologized to each other that morning. (This back-and-forth debate between him and Ned, which now involves them citing specific dates and exact hours of video game

playing, for example, isn’t exactly heart-warming or intriguing enough that it should warrant this feeling, yet here I am.) At first, I thought the sensation was just the sheer relief of reconciliation after a shitty, hellish night. But now I’m not so sure. It’s complicated, of course, to say the least. After spending so long desperately trying and failing to shove down this crush, my anxiety surrounding Peter and how this all might end, it doesn’t make sense to feel so… normal. The months I spent begging my own brain to avoid thinking about him, only to fail miserably and obsess over how, inevitably, the best outcome could only be private pain while the best bad option, if I was found out, would be a simple unraveling of fragile humiliation that Peter would clumsily (and apologetically) inflict— those months were like being a small pet in a washing machine: drowning, jerked around, disoriented, and in general torment. This crush has been one colossal Sisyphean self-inflicted torture session after the next. And yet, somehow, I’m suddenly alright. The danger has passed and I’m breathing just fine. Sure, I’m still nervous around him more often than not, and flustered, cautious, and even anxious at times, but it’s not nearly as overwhelming as before. It’s like most of the frightened, flighty energy this crush has plagued me with since the beginning has transformed into something less excruciating. Something that might border on exciting if I let it. It’s safe, above all else. Infinitely closer to safety than anything I’ve felt before, and certainly a thousand times more stable than that frozen, starless abyss I felt like I was staring into this weekend. To put it simply: my nerves have floated down to a reasonable level. Even if I still feel like I’m walking a tightrope some of the time, the rope is only a foot above soft-grassed ground rather than tied between skyscrapers. And since I’m less busy being worried, I evidently have more time to, as May would say, stay grounded and enjoy the moment. It feels like warm sunshine. That’s it. Safety and warmth. Anyway, suffice it to say that things are good between us. So much so that we’ve barely had a break in conversation since our fight. Between passing notes in the classes we have together, talking during lunch, and the obscene amount of texting we’ve done the last few days, it really does feel like being in a “friendship bootcamp,” like Ned and Michelle keep calling it. Especially because a big portion of our conversations has been Peter asking bizarre, random questions, like my opinion on Harry Houdini or if I know anyone who could get us fake IDs. (Each day I try to answer them as fully as possible with zero context. I gave up asking “Why?” and ��What for?” early on; he would just text back things like, “wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” or “you’ll find out later” or “I’m writing a memoir about you, duh.”) If it were anyone else, the sheer frequency of such vague texts might’ve aggravated me; instead, I found myself stifling laughter in bed until three in the morning Monday night, then 1 a.m. last ni— this morning. Peter and I have always enjoyed antagonizing Ned and Michelle on our own, so much so that, comparatively, we’ve always tended to be more civil (if not distant) to each other than either of them. Without the filter of them between us, our texting quickly became a tug-of-war of jokes, insults, and other teasing. In fact— “Hello? You there?” Peter’s waving his hand in front of my face. “You didn’t answer my other question.” I shake myself out of the mental hole I’ve been falling through the last few minutes and apologize for zoning out, only now realizing that Michelle and Ned have moved on to a discussion on the Spanish colonization of the Philippines and consequent linguistic history between Tagalog, Filipino, and Spanish. “Peter,” I say after a short yawn. “I think you’ve set a record for how many questions a person can ask in a day. Which one are you referring to?” I start to pull my phone out of my pocket to check my texts from him,

wondering what might’ve gotten lost in the waterfall of messages we’ve sent to each other lately. But he puts his index finger on the table, or rather, on the empty plastic bag that used to contain the apple Michelle and I finished a minute ago. “Where’s the rest of your food?” he specifies. “You and Michelle aren’t on any hunger strikes I don’t know about, right?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve been eating all morning, actually,” I say, returning his sarcasm. “A bunch of my favorite snacks somehow showed up in my locker. Weird, right?” “Super weird,” he says, nodding. “How’d someone get into your locker?” I pause. “That’s a good question. How did you get into it?” He grins. “Same way you got into mine on Friday.” He tips his head towards Michelle. “One of our friends pays way more attention to detail than anyone on the planet, and knows all of our codes.” Without breaking her eye contact with Ned, Michelle sticks her hand directly in front of Peter’s face. “Don’t bring me into whatever you guys are doing.” After a flash of middle finger, she puts her hand back down on the table and goes back to telling Ned off. “Really though,” I say, meeting his eyes again. “Thank you for all of it. It was nice to have a break from school food. Even if the sugar is going to make me crash sooner or later.” Preferably in sixth hour. It’s easy to get away with taking a nap in film class, as long as you can keep your head propped up on your hand. His ears twitch as he smiles. “I told you, I really want to make up for… well, everything.” “And I told you—” “That I don’t need to give you presents for that to happen.” “Exactly.” “So, you didn’t like the pens today?” Pens? “What are you talking about?” “I put some new pens in your backpack. You know, since you used up a bunch of yours taking notes during our decathlon study sessions.” That's true. In retrospect, I was more upset about them running out of ink than I ended up being about missing the actual competition. “Oh, I never saw them. I haven’t looked in my bag since first hour.” I wonder if…. “But, to be honest, I’m kind of particular about my writing instruments, so—” “They better be the Pilot G2 multi-color pack?” Wow. That is surprising. It must show on my face. His smile widens and he pulls his shoulders back. “Yes, actually.” I sit up a bit straighter. “You get that from Michelle too?” “Nope.” He shakes his head. “You left one at my apartment. Dark green. It’s also in your bag.” My heart rate jumps and I hate the fact that it’s over nice pens. Or maybe it’s the thought he put into it. It’s a perfect gift. Useful and, in a way, personal. The only other person who would think of it would be Michelle. She’s the only one who pays that much attention to me. “Alright then.” I try to keep my voice level, to not give away what I’m thinking or how happy I am that I can go back to color-coding my notes like usual. “That’s impressive, I’ll admit.” My chest aches, and I’m not totally sure why. “But,” I say carefully, “as much as I do appreciate it, there’s really no need for anything else.” “Oh really?” He leans forward, putting an elbow to the table, head resting against his hand. “Because I feel like you wouldn’t say that if you knew what I had planned for Friday.” I know it’s bait, that it’s meant to distract me from refusing his future gifts. But I can’t help it. “Tell me,” I demand. He pulls backward and, grinning, shakes his head so rapidly it messes up his hair. “It’s a surprise. I can’t.” It only takes me mentioning that, given how many wild questions he’s sent my way the last few days, I deserve one hint, minimum, for Ned and Michelle to notice and jump into our conversation. Ned offers to tell me about the Friday “event”— the one-word little slip up alone offending Peter more than the whole video game argument. “No, no, no, no!” Peter practically shouts. “Guys, I will kill you! Ned, I’ll tell Jason about how you’re planning to fight him, and MJ— I’ll, I swear, if you say anything, I-I’ll, I will—” “Yeah, you’ve got nothing on me, dude.” she says,

unimpressed, looking him up and down. “But, I’ll play nice this one time.” She looks at me, left eyebrow slightly raised with a clear message: There’s reason for concern. You’ll want to get it out of him as soon as possible. “So, Ned, when’s this fight happening?” We all turn to look at him, Michelle and I particularly curious about that piece of information. “Obviously it’s not,” he says, exasperated. “I’m just trying to figure out how to help a friend he’s been messing with.” “A miss Betty Brant, right?” As Michelle starts a rapid-fire interrogation into Ned and Betty’s beef with Jason, I turn my body and attention towards Peter once more. “You have to give me hints,” I say. “I’d like three, along with unlimited guesses.” He takes a deep breath, eyes searching mine carefully. “Alright, I’ll give hints,” he concedes. “But only two.” That’s better than I expected. “Two,” I agree. “But then you have to tell me tomorrow morning no matter what.” He extends a hand to shake, a smile perking back up. “That seems fair, since you’ll never guess.” I’m more than familiar with uncertainty when it comes to you, I think as that safe, sunny feeling settles over me again. I’ll manage just fine.

Next chapter

Author's note: Apologies for the very long filler chapter. Honestly, this is one of my least favorite chapters I've written and I'd hoped to fix it up a lot more before posting (I was planning a total rewrite tbh), but I figured it'd be better to stay on track with the weekly updating than push it back. Thanks for sticking with it!

Tag List: If you’d like to be tagged, send me a(n) ask/message or reply to this post.

*Notice: If you reply, I may not respond back; if you need/want confirmation, send me an ask/message instead :) Tag list: @qu3en-of-letters @brightcolorsoffendme @enoumen-t @wowieok @dottirose @moonofmy-life @ashleyhearto @a-typical-antisocial-fangirl @carrotsunshine @fangirldreamsandstuff @fandoms-stuff @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @jellzu @aussie-mantle @dude-whatawave @me-a-hopeless-romantic @susurrantsoul @kawaii-girl-101 @lxstneverfound @ukulele-tea-and-ocean @tepidtrash @emilymarie0422 @styles-bucks @tr1chst3r @shortstack-ofpancakes @lesdragly @peterparkerr @reanne @kateelyse96 @le-yona @madasameg @lowkeyfriggason @aelinashryv @arya-and-sansa @ajkenwo @idk123906 @scarz-xo @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @wist-elia @sftpjmn @comicglamour96 @thingfromlove @hannahrose130 @desteweirdo

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland fic

34 notes · View notes

recoverywithgh0ul · 8 months ago

Text

Soooo, what i eat in a day, day 3 now! I know it’s not so many days, but honestly keeping a routine with this, has been really helping me honestly, so even if no one reading this, at the end of the day it’s beneficial to my mental health. So that’s all that matters honestly. >.<

Last night was thankfully much better than the night before, hunger wise, and today I’m going to actively be okay with eating outside “allowed times” I’m just going to be eating when I’m hungry, and not going to make myself adhere to rules that 1. Don’t work for me and 2. Make me feel stressed and guilty about literally just nurturing my body. This is of course my approach, if food schedules work you should definitely use them in a safe and healthy way :>

Breakfast~

Today i had a yogurt bowl with a mini doughnut, and some apple slices.

(Today i was craving doughnuts, so i decided to have a mini one with breakfast to satisfy that craving. Breakfast was overall really nice, and i really enjoyed it, especially in a mental aspect. I was able to have what i was craving, without feeling the guilt of binging a bag of tiny doughnuts or something. The most. Beneficial thing I’m learning in my recovery, is everything is okay in moderation, and if it’s apart of a healthy diet. I know that sounds basic, but in practice, it’s so true.)

Lunch~

So, for lunch, a repeat of yesterday *0* , honey turkey wrap, bbq kettle chips, and mini sweet peppers with a side of ranch and spicy garlic sauce, also the drink will be at the bottom where it usually is,,

(was so good tbh, maybe even better than yesterday, and I’m really proud off myself for enjoying a meal, feeling satisfied, and not feeling like shit. So whooop)

Snack~

So for a snack since i was just kind of peckish and going to have dinner soon, i still had some leftover saltines and PB from the other day, so i had the last two of those, and i also had the last of the little bit of yogurt i had in the container from this morning

( no pic because, eh, but i got a mediocre picture for dinner though lol)

Dinner~

So for the main, i have leftover spaghetti and some frozen Aldi meatballs, and a side of BBQ spicy honey Brussels sprouts and broccoli

(Today has been not the most productive day for me, and I’ve been kinda of craving comfort most of it to be honest, so being proud of myself for the little things is definitely going to be the theme for today. I can’t really say anything is really going on lol, I’m honestly kinda having a good mental day? And honestly that’s amazing. If you’re reading this, i hope you’re having a decent day, and if you’re not, please remember to be kind to yourself. Especially on days when it’s the hardest to <3 )

Snack~

So for a night snack i had, some mini bell peppers, some chips with a side of cream cheese, and two star burst things

(No pic of the starbursts but they were indeed eaten, i was craving something sweet, so i nabbed em. The ending of tonight was interesting, haven’t been feeling the most valid in terms of the fact that im unwell enough i guess. Bottom line is, i was and am struggling, and I deserve to have a good day. And if anyone is reading this, you do too <3 )

Drinks~

Iced coffee

Water throughout the day

Low carb energy drink(not for ed purposes, just because I like the taste >.<)

Another day, conquered. Sometimes, some days can feel the equivalent to slaying a dragon. I’d imagine anyway, idk. But i got through it, and that’s all that matters. I hope anyone reading this that’s struggling, remembers they are worthy of food, and are deserving of recovery. You can love yourself, you’re allowed to, i promise~ until tomorrow. <3

0 notes

tastesoftamriel · 4 years ago

Text

I was asked about what dishes you should never offer to Daedric Princes by a follower who's probably a little too curious for their own good. Here's an interesting question I certainly have not thought of, because I generally try not to invoke the wrath of Daedric Princes! However, if you really want to potentially bring the punishment of Oblivion down upon yourself, please feel free to try the following...

Mehrunes Dagon

Instead of fiery destruction, I propose something...cute. A classic chilled custard tart topped with warm berry compote and some Hammerfell-style rose-and-vanilla pashmak is bound to melt hearts, just not in the way one of his Dremora would.

Peryite

I love making healthy foods just as much as indulgent dishes, and as the popular adage goes, an apple a day keeps Peryite away! A classic rucola and feta salad with a balsamic and Cyrodiilic olive oil can be made even better with an extra handful of spinach, a sprinkle of fresh pomegranate, halved walnuts, avocado and cucumber slices, and a few diced apple pieces! Simply delectable, and sure to keep scurvy and pestilence at bay.

Molag Bal

What should you not offer the Daedric Prince of domination and creator of vampires? Probably a soft, delicate vegetarian dish. A Breton vegetable quiche with an all-butter crust, goose eggs, sun-dried tomatoes, delicate baby spinach, fresh chanterelle mushrooms, squash, lots of garlic, and a spot of chevre. Mouth-wateringly good, this little beauty makes for an excellent meal at any time of day, and is bound to make Molag Bal sneer.

Namira

I'm going to be a little cheeky here and turn something gross and creepy into something delicious that even the fussiest nobles I've served love: garlic butter snails. Namira's followers are known to chow down on live, raw snails, shells and all, but I prefer mine with a garlicky gratin and a sprinkle of cave-aged West Weald parmesan. Oh, and don't forget to eat them with a fancy silver snail fork like a proper diva!

Boethiah

Plots? Destruction? Snakes? Not with this dish! What you see is what you get with a traditional Nord bread-and-butter pudding! It's a great way to use up your leftover bread scraps and stale butter, and is one of Tamriel's most satisfying desserts in my humble opinion. Served with hot custard and dried snowberries, this pudding is the perfect, least deceptive dish I can imagine.

Hircine

You were spot on with a salad, but let me raise the bar a little. Not just any salad will do, but you'll want all your ingredients to be gently cultivated by hand and farmed, as opposed to wild foraged. Iceberg lettuce and pink pear salad with some crumbled goat cheese and honey hits the spot, but how about topped with some marbled fatty beef? The historic Gweden Farm near Anvil has won countless awards for its pampered cows who are given a daily massage and the best fresh grass and Cyrodiilic grain. Domesticated, happy, and wonderful...unless you're a hunter, that is.

Hermaeus Mora

You'd have to be downright stupid to try a traditional Argonian worm bowl unless you're Saxhleel, and even then, most of them don't want to touch this nasty, wriggling dish. Fresh, live mealworms and kotu gava eggs are drowned in a fermented blood worm sauce, with shredded catapult cabbage and flame-grilled, toxic haj mota flesh. I once commented that it looked a little like Hermaeus Mora himself, before taking a tentative nibble and spending the rest of the day throwing up in the swamp. Please don't try this. It's the dumbest dish in Tamriel, and a pox on whichever Argonian invented it.

Sheogorath

No cheese or strawberry torte here! In fact, the least madness-inducing food I can think of is a nice, mild pistachio ice cream profiterole, dipped in sweet milk chocolate and topped with fresh nuts is the perfect Breton summer treat, yet far too boring for the Prince of Madness to bother with. Which leads us to...

Sanguine

I really dislike coming up with bland, mundane dishes for the occasional fussy eater I come across during my travels. Sanguine, Prince of hedonistic pleasures, probably lurks over my shoulder at the average feast I throw, so I admit I was a bit stumped here...until I remembered my Granny Matilda's chicken noodle soup. As basic as soups come, this simple broth is made by boiling leftover chicken carcasses for a night and a day, and served with plain egg noodles. The perfect food for when you're feeling under the weather, or have the palate of a small Nord child.

Malacath

Altmer cuisine seems like a good way to get Malacath really mad, because it's basically the antithesis of what he stands for. Delicate Quicksilver Lingwe cerviche with a yuzu drizzle and Crystal Hannia caviar, with a light avocado mousse flavoured with apple blossom? A sensory delight, and bound to make any Malacath-respecting Orc gag.

Jyggalag

Fried, hand-pulled buckwheat noodles with a spicy Pellitine-style curry sauce is a good way to make this Prince quite cross with you. Not only is it messy to eat, but your furniture will likely suffer bright orange and yellow stains from the turmeric and tomatoes, and your bowels will also be as tangled as the noodles after consuming a fiery Khajiiti curry.

Vaermina

So mundane and boring, you're definitely not bound to have any dreams or nightmares about a bowl of saltrice porridge with comberry preserves and scrib jerky. The staple food of the common Dunmer, it's tasty enough to eat on a daily basis, but hardly the stuff dreams are made of.

Mephala

This spidery Prince enjoys interfering with us mortals, so it's time to fight back with a dish that'll probably make most other Daedric Princes frown too. Imperial food is famous for its balanced flavours, textures, and fresh ingredients, and a Gold Coat seafood stew is a vibrant dish bursting with the best fresh fish, mussels, lobster, and crabmeat the region has to offer. Mild but but with a tangy punch from the sun-dried tomato based soup and a dash of crisp white wine, this is a dish that both young and old enjoy across Cyrodiil.

Meridia

Charred jerk wild boar stuffed with timber mammoth cheese and a delicious bloody jus-and-honey sauce is sure to make any Bosmer's mouth water! It's definitely dead, it's definitely cooked, and it's definitely bound to disappoint Meridia. Just a warning- try this for a laugh and you'll never be able to get rid of her beacon.

Azura

By Azura, please don't offer this to the Lady of Dawn and Dusk unless you want to irreparably have your race changed! Love and devotion is what this Prince craves, so why not damage yourself with a fiery Dunmeri Vvardenfell fondue, made from scuttle, crab meat, and extremely spicy fire petal blossoms? Enjoyed by the most pain-seeking of Dunmer, my version comes with fried hackle-lo leaf and saltrice-and-wickwheat bread for dipping. It'll have your guts in a twist for days, which is the price to pay for this deliciously hot "cheese" dish. Oh, and did I mention that it's best washed down with a nice cup of Vivec's Gingergreen Chai?

Nocturnal

There's absolutely nothing dark about a Redguard sun-jelly, made with fresh fruits from coastal Hammerfell. Coconut, palm fruit, watermelon, and bananas are the stars of the show in this dessert, set in a chilled agar jelly that keeps the heat at bay. The fanciest Redguards love mixing edible gold flakes into the jelly itself, giving it a delightful luster that is sure to put a smile on your face and chase the shadows away.

Clavicus Vile

You're not going to want to strike any bargain to give up a delicious baked chub loon gratin with echatere cheese, over hasselback potatoes and crispy radish chips. This Orcish delicacy is surprisingly so good it's even tickled the fancy of the fussiest eaters in Tamriel! The chub loon meat is juicy and melts in the mouth, and the echatere cheese melted into the cracks of a hasselback potato are wonderful with radish chips for dipping. Admit it, you're drooling aren't you?

#Asks #Daedric Princes #Daedric Lords #TES #the elder scrolls #World building #worldbuilding #long post #text post

230 notes · View notes

multiplefandomsblog · 4 years ago

Text

[Danganronpa V3] Kokichi x Tall Curvy!Reader Pt. 2 (one shot)

Pt.1 here!

warnings!: fem!reader, reader is insecure, non-consensual kissing and touching, kokichi sits on your lap, kinda suggestive, reader hits her head, cussing.

note; sorry if this kinda sucked, didn’t rlly know how to continue it. Anyways enjoy!

Ding Dong Bing Bong!

The morning bell rang, time to wake up.

You stomp past Kokichi, face still flushed from the dumb things he said earlier. Going into the bathroom, you splashed water on your face. His voice, listing all the things he like about you replayed in your head over and over again. The more you thought about it, the more it got to you.

‘Does... does he really like me?’ you thought.

You shake your head in denial. It was probably just another lie, typical Kokichi.

Looking up at the mirror, your eyebrows creased at what you saw. ‘No... there’s no way someone like him could actually like someone like me...’

Feeling a bit hungry, you left to get to the diner. You contemplate just eating in the washroom to avoid Kokichi, but when you peak into the dining hall, he seemed to be no where in sight. You chose to sit alone, quietly pushing through groups of people and settling down in the table at the far corner of the entrance. You drop all your things on the polished table and pull out a book from your stack of work.

You lay it open, grab your lunch container and fork and start reading peacefully. You eat slowly, too concentrated on the book to focus on spooning your mac & cheese into your mouth. You feel a fork trying to push through your closed lips. You open your mouth to eat the food, eyes still glued to your book. The fork keeps coming up with a mountain of mac n cheese on it. You start to lean forward to take another bite, until you realize...

You haven’t been moving your arms this whole time. Perplexed at the sudden realization, you look up to see Kokichi smiling deviously at you with the fork in his hands. Your eyes widen and you pull away from him. You straighten your posture and try to act cool, though you can feel yourself heating up.

You open your mouth to say something, but he speaks before you can. “S/o, you look so cute when you eat!” He goes to feed you another mound of pasta but you turn your head away. “I can feed myself, thank you very much.” you say as you snatch the fork from his hand and finish the remaining pasta in your lunch container that Kirumi had given you.

You ignore him and focus on your book, but out of the corner of your eye you see him walk around the table to you. “What are you-” you feel a jerk on your chair, pulling you away from the table. You let go of your book and Kokichi plop down on your lap. You try to push him off, but he has his arms wrapped around your neck.

“S/o, I’m not that heavy, am I?” he makes a pouty face at you. You look to your side and see a few stares. “W-whatever, just get off me.” you try to push his face away but leaps at you and smacks your lips together. The man was practically humping you! Your eyes widen as he pushes his face harder against yours. You can feel yourself falling in love, but that’s not the only thing that’s falling!

The chair tips backwards and you both fall hard on the tile floor of the dining hall. You arch your back and rub it in pain. You groan out and roll to your side and start trying to get up getting up.

Under your breath, you groan, “Kokichi, you son of a bitch.”

He stands back up, dazed with a grin splayed on his face. He giggles as if he planned this all along, “Don’t worry s/o, I’ll walk to the doctors office with you!” He turns around to the staring crowd and yells, “What? I can take care of my lady!” He then wraps his arm around yours and nudges you to move. You roll your eyes and start walking with him to the doctors office, having to slouch your back so he can reach you.

You both sit silently on the bench, holding a bag of ice on the back of your heads. “You feelin’ better now?” he breaks the silence. You don’t say or look at him, but you hear rustling. He pulls out a zip-lock bag with bunny sliced apples in them from his scarf. How’d he keep them from falling in there? They’re probably all warm now, ew. He puts down his bag of ice and opens the bag.

He takes a bite of an apple then sticks it in front of your face. “Want a bite?” You stare at the bitten apple slice. You lean down and bite the apple, and his face brightens up with a grin. He inches closer to you, as you both eat his warm scarf apple slices in the doctors office.

208 notes · View notes

garbagevanfleet · 4 years ago

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART EIGHT

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: snuggling, tiny amount of bodily injury Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: I’ve been on a tiny bit on a hiatus, but here you go! Thanks for all of your support! I love you

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack @myownparadise96

MASTERPOST

Kate was missing from class on Friday, to your deep dismay. You had been hoping to tell her about how shitty Trevor had been, but instead, you received a text that she had overslept her alarm and decided to just stay home.

That left you and Josh alone at lunch, just like you had been at the beginning of the year. He was excitedly explaining that there were a few kids in his production that you would “absolutely love”, and you had to agree.

“They’re catching on so fast. Rachel gave them some not-so-easy routines to the choreography, and they’ve almost got it down. I feel like that’s tough for kids so young, you know?”

You couldn’t help but grin as he spoke with such candor.

“I was doubtful that they would be able to get it, but she insisted that they could,” he finished, grabbing his bottle of water and lifting it to his mouth.

You had your lips open to reply until you caught sight of his hand; the knuckles were bruised just lightly enough that you couldn’t tell if it was just the lighting or not. As soon as he caught you eyeing it, he went to set the bottle back down.

“What happened?” You laid your hand down on the table, palm up as a gesture for him to take it. Reluctantly, he did, and you took a moment to inspect.

“It’s nothing, I’m just clumsy,” he said, pairing his assurance with a sweet smile.

You frowned at him in disbelief. “No, you’re not; I saw you make that shot across the room with your sucker stick the other night. You’re very well coordinated.”

He stared into your eyes for a moment as he gauged your reaction, and then hummed amusedly. “It’s really not that bad, it just looks gross. Just a musical mishap.” You shot him a look, to which he quickly replied, “Don’t worry about me, ‘kay?”

Not sure what else to say, you pushed forward the ziplock baggie of apple slices you had been munching on. He reached in and plucked one out for himself.

“Do you want to have a movie night with me tonight? You could invite Kate if you want.”

The offer made you genuinely smile, though you hadn’t quelled the long list of questions you still had.

“That sounds lovely. I think we have string cheese, so we could make homemade mozzarella sticks or something.”

He was looking at you in an oddly serious fashion, and you weren’t sure what he was going to say until he opened his mouth. “Hell yeah.”

+++

You hadn’t considered that you’d have to see Trevor again so soon, or rather - you did, but you had been pushing it to the farthest corner of your brain, not at all ready to think about it. So that’s why when you were sitting in class and he walked in, your stomach lurched.

You tried to keep looking straight ahead, but it only lasted so long before you couldn’t help yourself. He was sitting as far away from you as he could get, but it still wasn’t terribly far.

He had his eyes firmly on his desk, head tipped down. His posture was crumpled in on itself, and you could only imagine how embarrassed he was - or at least you hoped he was. At the very least, you knew he should be.

Until the end of class, you kept yourself busy - even tried to actually pay attention, but when you were dismissed, you let out a relieved breath.

You stood and collected your things, then promptly headed for the door.

On the way out, he looked up and met your gaze, and the sight of his face made the air catch in your lungs.

The skin around his left eye was stained a purplish-grey, his brows tipped down into a scowl.

You hadn’t hit him that hard, had you? A whole cocktail of emotions flooded your brain, and you bit your bottom lip, ripping your eyes away from him as you exited the room.

Your pace was a bit faster than usual, which is why you beat Josh to the B doors by a couple of minutes.

Could slapping someone give them a black eye? You thought yes, but there would have to be some real force behind it. You were pretty sure that you’d have to wind up to get him that good.

“What’s wrong?”

You hadn’t even heard Josh approaching you, so it made you startle just enough for him to notice. He put his hand on your back in a comforting gesture.

“Ah, sorry. I was just thinking,” you replied, giving him a weak smile.

“About what?” he chanced softly.

“Nothing - not a big deal.” You started off walking, him right by your side, matching your pace.

“How are things going with the play? You haven’t even told me what it’s about yet.”

His face lit up. “You haven’t asked. We’re doing Alice In Wonderland. Some of the songs are original.”

“What, like you wrote them?” you asked, looking over at him with a shocked expression.

He nodded, laughing under his breath. “Rachel is working on the wardrobe; costume design and all of that. I have the sculpture class working on the props and set, but they can only come like once a week.”

“Do you need any help?”

He looked over at you, surprised. “Do you want to? Can you paint?”

You shrugged. “Kinda. I mean, I can make it work. I’m not perfect, but it’s manpower, at least,” you admitted.

“No, no - any help would be amazing but don’t overexert yourself. You need to still work on your stuff.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I’m happy to help.”

+++

You had texted Kate at lunch asking if she wanted to come for a movie night, as Josh had suggested, and she had eagerly agreed. You were still surprised, however, when she showed up with a handbag full to the brim.

You watched her pull out a bag of kettle corn, a few little glass bottles of nail polish, some packets of face masks, a stack of DVDs, and a bottle of white wine - all while chatting you up about her morning.

“This looks like just a girl thing, so I’ll leave you guys to it,” Josh said, not a shred of animosity in his tone, but you frowned up at him from the couch as he stood.

You went to open your mouth to protest, but Kate beat you to it. “Oh, no, you should stay. I brought three masks.” She fanned them out like a deck of cards in her hand.

He raised his eyebrows at her, looking rather impressed. “Oh.”

“You do want nice skin, right?” she prompted.

“He has very nice skin,” you replied in his defense, making her shoot you a look.

“Everyone has room for improvement,” she quipped back, as Josh just shrugged at you.

“I’m down,” he agreed, taking his seat again on the couch. “Are we watching a chick flick?”

“Well, I brought some choices. Otherwise, I’m open to suggestions if you guys have any good ones.”

“Maybe we should let Josh pick,” you suggested. “Since he’s going to be the one really watching it while we do nails.”

She smiled at you and then him. “You heard her - gentleman’s choice.”

“So, if I pick Human Centipede,” he started through a shit-eating grin.

You lovingly rolled your eyes at him. “If you own Human Centipede, I’m going to be moving out.”

He tipped his head back and laughed unabashedly.

In the end, he picked a rom-com, which you knew he would, and took a seat next to you on the couch. About a quarter of the way through, you realized that Kate didn’t have a lot of intention of actually watching a movie, per se. It seemed that she was more interested in using it for background noise.

The night was therapeutic. Everything felt easy. You found yourself laughing genuinely, leaned in to watch as Kate dabbed a wet washcloth over Josh’s nose, causing him to scrunch it up in distaste. She immediately scolded him, explaining that it had to be wet for the mask to work right, and he needed to sit still.

Once it was on, you couldn’t help but snap a picture of him as he play-pouted at you, his bottom lip jutted out.

It wasn’t until your nails were finished that you started to feel a chill. “Does it feel cold in here to you?” you asked.

Both of them looked at you questioningly.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Kate agreed.

Wordlessly, Josh stood and grabbed a thick blanket from the basket by his side of the couch and then spread it out of your laps. You had thanked him, and that had fixed the problem for then, but by the time Kate was packing her stuff up and ready to leave, you had a chill you just couldn’t shake.

As soon as she was gone, you turned to him and frowned. “You really aren’t cold? Like at all?”

“It’s a little cold, yeah,” he agreed, but you sensed it was mostly to make you feel better. “Do you want a sweatshirt?”

You nodded, giving him a grateful look.

“I hope I’m not getting sick,” you mumbled.

He frowned at you, rubbing at your shoulder. “Hang on, I’ll check the thermostat.”

His feet made a patting sound as he crossed the hardwood; a sound that had become a comfort to you.

“Hmm, it is colder than usual in here. I’ll turn the heat up,” he replied, and then a moment later, he finished. “The heat isn’t kicking on for some reason.”

You shot him a concerned look, suddenly terrified you were going to freeze.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, where are you going?” you asked as you watched him make his way to the front door.

“Just into the hall, sit tight.” With that, he disappeared.

You pulled his sweatshirt on and sat back onto the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest and the blanket up to your neck.

When he got back in, he gave you a sympathetic look. “Apartment 4 said that theirs is working just fine, so I think I’m going to call the landlord.”

“It’s 9:30 at night,” you reminded him, brows tipped up in concern.

“Yeah, but heat is kind of an emergency here in the winter.” The phone was already up to his ear as he spoke. You could hear the line ring and then someone pick up on the other end. He explained the situation to her with ease at first, but he seemed to quickly lose his patience with her.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” he snapped, filling a tea kettle with water. “It’s going to get freezing in here tonight.”

Then a pause, and you could hear her responding pointedly.

He let out a huff. “We don’t have the money for that. What are we supposed to do?”

You could hear him relent, just by the tone of his voice. He thanked her and then promptly hung up. You waited for him to come over, two cups of tea in hand, before you threw any questions at him.

“Well?” you asked, knowing full well that nothing had been accomplished.

He exhaled a long breath. “She said she’ll get someone on it later tomorrow, and if we wanted it fixed tonight, we’d have to pay for it upfront and she’d pay us back minus the emergency fee.”

You frowned but still reached your hand out of the blanket to set comfortingly on his knee. “It’s okay. Thank you for trying.”

“We’ll pile the blankets on you tonight,” he promised.

But even with - what you were sure was - twenty pounds of blankets, you were cold in your bed. You laid, staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour, trying to will yourself warm. You even tried moving around a bunch under the blankets, hoping to produce enough heat from friction, but it was no use.

You had known what you were going to have to do just moments after settling under the covers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it until you started to shiver involuntarily.

You let out an annoyed huff and pushed the covers off. It wasn’t until you were out in the open air that you realized how much warmer it actually was under the covers.

You crossed the hall, poking your head into Josh’s doorway.

“Josh,” you whispered into the dim room, and he stirred instantly.

“Yeah,” he responded, a rasp in his throat.

It took you a second to work up the courage to ask, “Can I sleep in here tonight? I cannot get warm for the life of me.”

“Yeah, of course.” His reply came after a moment of him shifting over for you.

You rushed back to your bedroom, snatching the blankets off of the bed. They were too thick to really bunch them up in your arms to carry, so you ended up half-dragging them over. When you returned, he held the comforter open for you.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” You climbed in, quickly pulling all of the blankets over you as he helped you situate them comfortably.

He shushed you assuringly.

“Why is your bed so warm?” you complained, shuffling down until the blankets were up to your chin.

The smile on his lips could be heard through the hum he let out. “I’m used to the cold. I’m sorry to tell you that this isn’t even close to the coldest it’ll get here. You probably haven’t had to make your own body heat much back home.”

“This is literally like body heat donation for the needy,” you teased, turning in bed until you were facing him. “Can I lay where you were laying?”

“What, no,” he said through an incredulous laugh.

“I bet it’s so warm though,” you whined. “Feel how cold my feet are.”

You shifted until you could press your toes against his bare ankle, making him jolt.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “If you want the heat you’re just going to have to come over by me.”

You took a second to gauge that response, trying to find any evidence of teasing in his tone. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“How do you wanna do this?” His tone sounded like it was inching toward disbelief.

Through a frown, you asked, “What do you mean?”

The sound of him quietly clearing the sleep from his throat filled the otherwise quiet room. “Just. I don’t know, do you wanna put a blanket between us?”

You giggled breathily at him. “No, I’m too cold to be worried about modesty, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay, I’m just going to lay here and you just situate yourself however feels comfortable for you.”

Without any hesitation, you scooted toward him until your chest was flush to his side, your chin rested against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you inquired, snuggling deeper under the sheets.

The warmth was heavenly.

“Your skin is fucking freezing,” he mumbled, clearly close to sleep again already.

“Good, so you see that the situation is dire,” you quipped, wriggling your fingers until he let you slip them between his chest and his bicep. His muscles jumped, and you could tell just how cold your skin was just from the way he felt hot to the touch.

He breathed a laugh, and in a teasing tone, agreed, “Life-threatening, I’d go so far as to say. Wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

You agreed, pressing your nose against the sleeve of his shirt, and drifted off.

+++

When you woke, it was to the sound of his alarm. You felt him reach a hand out of the covers and flick his phone off, putting a stop to the shrill ringing instantly.

It took you a second to realize you were borderline hot. You couldn’t figure out why it was so dark until you realized that one of the sheets was almost completely over your head, blocking out the sun that shone through the slats in his blinds. You wiggled until your head was out from under the blanket, but quickly pulled it back up to your chin when you felt how the cold room made your skin prickle.

Once you got your wits about you, you wiped the sleep from your eyes, popping them open in shock when you realized the position you were in. You weren’t sure if it was him, or you, but somehow he had shifted in the night so that your chests were pressed flush together.

In his sleepy state, he placed his hand on the back of your head, pressing your face back into his neck where it was positioned - unbeknownst to you.

With your nose touching his skin, you could feel his pulse on the tip of it, slow and steady - like he wasn’t really awake. The smell of his cologne was familiar to you now.

“Josh,” you whispered, tipping your head up until you realized the limited mobility you actually had.

He hummed, and you knew the second he was conscious because his muscles tensed all at once before loosening enough to release you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as you untangled your legs from his. “I must have really been out.”

“It’s okay, I was too.” You looked up at him with a smile. “We survived the night.”

He hummed through tilted up lips. “That’s good; I would have been really upset if you died in my bed.”

After a moment, you groaned a complaint. “I do not want to get out of bed. I know it’s going to be fucking freezing. If we move out of here, can we go somewhere warm?”

He tilted his head over to meet your eyes with a subtle smirk.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he replied. You were contemplating pressing further, but he spoke again. “I’m staying home today from school so I can be here when the repairmen come.”

You frowned. “Do you want me to stay instead? Or with you to keep you company?”

“No, I’ll be good. You need to go to school and stay warm.”

You grimaced at him, secretly wishing he had asked you to stay so you didn’t have to get out of bed.

“Okay, you’re sure?”

He laughed at you. “Yes, you should get moving. Feel free to wear any of my warmer clothing.”

You shot him a grateful look before closing your eyes and throwing the blankets off of yourself.

#brightest blue fic #josh x reader #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #writing

223 notes · View notes