#no noodle arms allowed in my house

[hazieash]

He can have a little dark magic, as a treat

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 9: In the Name of Love

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Welcome back to the show! This was a little rushed, ngl. Half of it was written when I was dozing off at 5 am and the other half is from when I was dozing off after my pool day. Please live react or leave comments if you can! As always, I hope you love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Detailed emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, disordered eating, food control, referenced date r*pe, gaslighting, flashbacks, dissociation, panic attacks, referenced murder

Word Count: 3.7k

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Paige didn’t make her talk. She didn’t make her move. She didn’t even make her eat.

Azzi had just stopped crying when Soleil padded into the living room. “I’m hungwy.” She rubbed her eyes, still sleepy. She walked to the couch and nestled herself between the two women. “I want noodles with Azzi.”

Azzi smiled softly, “Wants pho.”

Paige pulled out her phone, tapping her screen, and putting an order in quickly. “It’ll be here in 20 minutes Lei.”

“Azzi still sad?” Soleil’s big blue eyes, full of pity and sadness. When no one gave an answer, she looked to her mother expectantly. “Azzi is sad. We watching Fwozen. S’her favowite.”

Paige followed Soleil’s instructions without question. When “Love is an Open Door” played, Paige was happy to ride down to the lobby to pick up the food. When she returned, Elsa was lecturing Anna about marriage.

The three of them ate their food huddled together. When Soleil finished, she made Azzi lie back before climbing onto her stomach and laying her head on her chest. Azzi’s arms wrapped around her, hands running up and down her back slowly.

Soleil’s breath deepened, warm and soft against Azzi’s chest. She stared at the tv, not really seeing the movie playing.

The room was still. Peaceful. Safe.

“I met Grant when I was 18.” She started quietly. “My best friends, Caroline, Colleen, and I all went to this frat party. I only had a few drinks, but I blacked out.” Azzi is almost reliving it, not even hearing Paige’s sharp gasp. “I woke up at his apartment naked. He came back with waffles, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I stayed. I was so mad at myself. He was my first, and I couldn’t believe it was something I couldn’t even remember.”

Paige’s hand covered Azzi’s, breaking her out of her flashback. “That wasn’t your fault, Azzi. He drugged you, and even if he didn’t, drunk people can’t consent. This is all on him.”

Azzi nodded, not really listening to the blonde. “He was so good at first. He treated me like I hung the moon. But it was little things. He chipped away at me until I was exactly what he wanted.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t even notice the manipulation until it was too late. I wasn’t allowed to eat carbs because it made my face puffy. I had to try on my outfits before I could leave the house, and if he felt like it was too tight, I had to weigh in. If I was too heavy, it was going to be a week of kid’s meals or even meal replacement shakes if it was bad enough.” She shook her head. “He wanted me to be healthy, he just didn’t know how to help me in a healthy way.”

Paige got on the floor and kneeled in front of Azzi. “He wanted to control you Azzi, that’s all. You were already healthy.”

“No, he just wanted me to be healthy. I’m not good at making choices, so he helped me. Sometimes I have trouble remembering things right. I’m probably just twisting his words and making him look bad. He said I used to do that all the time.” Paige brushed a few loose strands out of Azzi’s face, almost wanting her to snap out of it and come back to her.

Azzi’s eyes were glassy, locked on some fixed point beyond Paige. Her voice didn’t match her face — it was too calm, too quiet, like she was reading from a script she’d memorized to survive. Paige froze. She’d seen this kind of dissociation before – she’d seen it in herself. She hated that Azzi was experiencing it too.

Then she started again. “I miss Carol and Colleen. I couldn’t talk to them because they were trouble. They wanted me to wear bad outfits and drink, but Grant didn’t like going out anymore.” Tears slowly fell down her face. “I miss my mom and dad. I miss my brothers. I haven’t seen them in five years.”

She went silent again. Paige was left helpless, just watching the brunette cycle through her thoughts. She was looking at Paige, but her eyes didn’t register the blonde. She wasn’t here – not really.

“I never should’ve left him.” Azzi whispered. “He took such good care of me. He loved me so much, and now I’m all alone.”

Paige got closer, cupping Azzi’s cheeks in her hands. She brought her forehead to Azzi’s, letting it rest there and saying affirmations until she was back. Azzi, you’re safe. You’re okay. You are not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone again. You are good. You are perfect. It’s me, Paige. And Soleil. You have us. You have a family. We want you. We will always want you.

She didn’t know how long she knelt, repeating the same words. But she could tell when Azzi was out of her trance. A gasp, and then more tears. Falling faster, uncontrolled. She tried to keep her cries small and silent with Soleil laying on her.

When Paige tried to move her again, Azzi’s grip tightened once more. “I’m so sorry Paige. I should’ve kept her safe.”

“No, don’t do that, Azzi. You kept her safe. Even when I got there, you were still keeping her safe.” Paige paused, trying to think of what to say next. “You were good, Azzi. You did such a good job protecting Lei.” Azzi let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Thank you, Azzi.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige didn’t move, content to stay on the floor and stroke Azzi’s hair gently. Eventually, Azzi joined Soleil in dreamland.

The blonde bolted to her bedroom. She needed to get out of this suit, and she needed to hit something. She needed to be quick though; she didn’t want Azzi to wake up by herself. After pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie, she decided she should probably get something for Azzi to wear too.

She thought back to the pictures Azzi had sent her earlier. She looked so pretty in her yellow dress. She looked happy with Soleil. Paige had been looking forward to getting home and seeing Azzi and Soleil in their matching outfits watching a movie, or working on an artistic masterpiece, or just talking.

But he ruined that.

She didn’t know how to fix it yet, but she knew one thing: he would never control Azzi again. She’d make sure of it.

Paige was hot with anger again.

She yanked open a drawer and pulled out her favorite lilac sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. She grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks and the matching sweatshirt, wanting Azzi to be as comfortable as she wanted.

Paige’s phone flashed with a notification.

Ash 🤠: Found him. Grant Hayes.

Attachment: 1 file

P. Buckets 🏀: Thanks Ash.

When Paige clicked the PDF, she realized she made the right choice in firing Q and promoting Ashlyn. She’d pulled emails, phone records, text messages, social media history, bill information. Everything.

Ash 🤠: Morgan filled me in. Don’t crash out over this. It’s…bad.

P. Buckets 🏀: How did you find him?

Ash 🤠: He’s messy and too cocky. He’s been posting about Azzi since she left him.

Before she let herself start reading the file, Paige pulled the blanket off her bed and walked back out to the living room. She covered Azzi and Soleil and sat next to their heads.

She propped her feet up on the coffee table and got to reading.

After an hour of reading, Paige’s emotions had gone from anger to wrath to fury to rage. Her body was wound tightly with anger. Paige thought the things Azzi had said earlier were bad. But it was nothing compared to the six years of abuse she’d suffered.

He had messages with his father asking ways to make her stay. His dad told him to wake her up to talk the nights before she had class and to start a big fight right before a big exam. She found messages telling his friends what he’d done to trap her. Found messages about the drugs he used the night he met her. Paige found messages where he’d been stalking her, waiting to get a chance with her. He tricked her into getting on his phone plan, then turned her service off. He would change the WIFI password so she couldn’t use any of her apps. There was a lock on the refrigerator and pantry that he only opened when she was cooking for him. She wasn’t even allowed to eat the meals she’d prepared unless he said she could. She had to send him pictures of everything she ate; the portions looked like something a second grader would need. She found hundreds of messages sent to Caroline and Colleen, even a few sent to Azzi’s family.

Then Paige saw his messages to Azzi. Saw every name he ever called her. Said she was dumb and worthless for wanting to be a teacher. He told her she was lucky he was with her because no one else could love someone like her. She forgot to cook one night because she was studying, and he told her she’d be the shittiest wife. She got a bad grade on a child development exam after a night of fighting, and he told her she’d be a terrible mother. It would be child abuse to have a baby with her. He blamed her for all their issues. Blamed it on hormones, her indecisiveness, even her kindness. He would clean it up though. He would buy flowers and chocolate, telling her she couldn’t eat it because she’d gain too much weight. Then he’d say he only did it because he loved her and cared about her.

Paige locked her phone and stared at the blank tv screen. She was angry before. She was angry just by hearing the things Azzi had said.

But now, now she wanted to kill him. She would make what she did to Manny look like child’s play. She needed to hit something; she didn’t want to be this angry in front of Azzi.

She unlocked her phone again, going to the group chat.

God’s Favorites + Kamorea 🍫🍒

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Anybody home?

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: almost, but me and N have a date at 7. what’s up?

Baby GOAT 🐐🤣💃🏾: Me. Omw up now.

Jane from the Pyramids 🪡👸🏻🇪🇬: Meeeeeee! Me and Ice are working on Azzi’s spot.

Ice Princess ❄️👑🧚🏽‍♀️: we’re coming up now

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: WAIT FOR ME!!!!!

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Actively trying to avoid catching another body.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Come in quietly. They’re sleeping.

She went to another group chat.

Beauties and the Bucket 👸🏻👸🏽🪣

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Just need y’all to stay with A and Lei til I get back.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Maybe just turn on Bluey if they wake up. Don’t make her talk

Jana and Ice liked both messages, and Paige went to the last group chat.

Unholy Trinity 😇😈

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Need to smash some shit before I get locked up

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: stg no bull

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: parking now. can use staging room??

Paige heard the elevator ding, and she stood up quietly, not wanting to risk waking the two. She looked at them and got stuck.

Since she got back home, she hadn’t really taken the chance to look at them. Soleil and Azzi. Together. They looked like everything Paige wanted; something she thought she could never have. She wanted to crawl in next to them and never move again.

That’s how the girls found her. Bent over looking at the nappers with a look of awe on her face.

Nika let out a quiet cough, making Paige straighten up quickly. “You don’t look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Her face darkened again, and she stalked towards the quartet. “Nika, KK, let’s go.”

 ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The women rode the elevator down to the thirtieth floor. The apartment she chose was perfectly staged. The perfect canvas to ruin.

Paige’s body was wound tight, like a spring ready to explode. She held the door open for Nika and KK. Paige walked past them. She paced the length of the living room, fisting and releasing her hands, rubbing her face and hair with rough movements. Trying to release some of the anger without being too destructive.

Her breath got louder and quicker. She picked up one of the magazines off the coffee table. There was a dull thud when it hit the wall. She knocked a glass off the coffee table, a little tension releasing when it shattered.

Then she exploded.

Couch cushions were ripped. The fruit bowl on the counter was launched at another wall. A dining room chair was used to destroy the glass coffee table before she smashed the chair until it was broken. One of the chair legs was smashed into the oven door and induction cooktop. She used a different one to swing at the refrigerator until it was dented. Lamps were thrown and broken. The common areas destroyed.

Paige paused to look around the room. She felt a little better, but when she looked back at the kitchen, she remembered.

He told her she needed to lose weight. She was fucking perfect. She cooked for that bitch, and he didn’t even let her eat. And she thought he loved her, that she was lucky to be with him.

Her temper flared again.

She yanked the broken oven handle off the door and headed for the bathroom. The glass shower doors were her next victim. The sound of the glass showering down was cathartic. The toilet took a little longer to break, but Paige was persistent. She went to the sink, gripping the sides tightly. Her breath was ragged. She couldn’t calm down; she was so angry. She wanted to punch the mirror, but she knew it would cut her hand up, and she didn’t want to scare Azzi with her violence.

She tugged off her hoodie and wrapped her hand and struck. Her destruction started again. Mirrors, walls, doors. All of them fell victim to her fists and kicks.

Paige ended up back in the living room. Azzi didn’t deserve any of that. I have to fix it.

She fell to her knees next to the glass from the coffee table.

Nika moved first. She squatted beside Paige, making sure to miss the debris. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Somehow, Paige had missed one of the armchairs and two dining room seats.

The blonde glared at her little sister, “Did you know what he did to her?”

KK’s eyes widened, “She didn’t tell us anything outside of him being too controlling. Not letting her make decisions, stuff like that. What happened?” She asked warily.

Paige didn’t know what she could have told them without it crossing boundaries. “Her ex was outside the building today. Sent her into a spiral.”

The other two women tensed. “Did he do something to her?” Nika questioned.

“Not today, but I had Ash look into him. He was awful to her.” She sighed. “No one fought for her. She was all alone. Even when she got to Chicago, she was by herself.”

KK was hesitant, but she wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Yeah, but she has us now. She’s going to be okay.”

“Paige, she’s seemed okay, and I think a big part of that is you and Soleil.” Nika added. “What do you want to do? I know you wanna help her, and we can help you.”

Paige ran her hands over her face. “I want to murder him.” She breathes out harshly. “I don’t know. I know she doesn’t feel safe. She feels like she fucked up. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Maybe you can just feel her out, see what she needs and do that.” KK suggested.

Paige nodded, “Yeah. Maybe that’ll be good enough. I want her to be happy.”

Nika put a hand on Paige’s leg. “You’re showing up, P. That’s more than anyone’s done for her in a while.”

“I don’t want her to feel like she’s broken.” Paige whispered, jaw clenched.

“Well make sure she isn’t.”

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Azzi wakes up to a knee in her stomach and a hand in her face. Soleil.

For a second, she doesn’t remember what happened earlier. She remembered the amazing day she’d been having with Soleil, then Grant’s face popped into her head, and she stiffened.

Soleil’s head popped up from Azzi’s neck, smile already stretched across her cute little face. “Mownin’ Azzi!”

“Good morning, Princess.” Azzi smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

Jana’s face entered Azzi’s field of view. “Hey girl! Paige left some clothes out for you to wear so you don’t have to stay in that dress.” She rubbed Soleil’s head, “Come on Lei, let’s go change.”

Azzi wandered back to Paige’s bedroom. Her bedroom wasn’t dark and sleek like Azzi had expected it to be. It was neutral and calm; Ice had done a good job in here.

On the top of her dresser was a lavender sweatsuit. The fabric was soft, like it’d been worn a million times. She pulled the dress over her head, pulling the clothes on quickly.

She was enveloped in the smell of Paige Bueckers. The smell was crisp and a little citrusy with a hint of sandalwood, vanilla, and spice. It was intoxicating.

Azzi smiled at the fuzzy socks Paige had left her. The whole outfit felt like a hug.

She strolled out to the living room, pulling the blanket from before around her. It smelled like pear and white pepper; sweet and warm all at once.

She was waiting for Soleil to come back out when the elevator dings.

Azzi’s whole body froze. He was here.

She didn’t move until a blonde head peeked around the corner. Then, she was able to breathe again.

“Oh. You’re up!” Paige started, surprised. “Did you have a good nap?”

Azzi’s head tilted a bit. Was Paige mad that she slept over here? She remembered Paige saying something to her before she went to sleep. Maybe Paige really was mad about Azzi risking Soleil’s safety.

She looked at the floor, tracing the patterns in the wood with her eyes. She nodded, too afraid to see the look of disappointment or irritation on Paige’s face.

“Good. I’m happy you were able to rest.”

Azzi’s head shot up. Brows furrowed, “You wanted me to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Paige started, walking towards the couch. “You had a rough afternoon.”

The soft look in Paige’s eyes was disarming. Azzi nodded again, still a little confused. “I was gonna chill for the rest of the day. Was thinking we could talk about the school tour, then just hang out over here. Everybody else came over an hour ago, so we’d just be vibing with the family.”

Azzi was thankful for the clear direction and path the rest of the day would take. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make more decisions.

Soleil walked into the living room halfway through the conversation about Four Oaks. Her blue eyes moved between both women before she decided to sprawl out across them both: head in Azzi’s lap and legs on Paige’s.

She told her mom how much she liked the school, but how she still wanted Azzi to be her teacher.

“Would you like it if you went to school for the morning, then finished school with Azzi in the afternoon?” Paige suggested, looking to Azzi with her brows raised.

Soleil’s head popped up at the idea. “That’s pewfect! I get new fwiends, and I get to keep Azzi!”

“Is that okay with you, Azzi?” Paige questions. “It’ll give you more time to figure out what you want to do for work.”

Azzi nodded quickly. “Yes! That sounds perfect. No more money though.”

Soleil, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, decided now would be the perfect time for a dance party. She rounded up the other ladies and made them all stand in the living room.

Paige pulled up Just Dance 2 on YouTube and smiled while Soleil and KK stole the show.

The rest of the day is light. Full of laughter and love. It was the most relaxed Azzi had been in a while.

Everyone sat in the dining nook to have pizza. Soleil claimed Azzi’s lap as her throne since they are “gluten fwee besties” and Azzi wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Azzi was back on the couch wrapped in the same blanket once everyone has left and Soleil has been put to sleep.

Paige sat next to her quietly, eyes glued to the muted television.

“He makes me feel broken.” Azzi whispers. “I thought I was over it, but I’m just as weak and broken as I was the day I left him.”

Paige moves a little closer, “Why do you feel like you’re broken or weak?”

“I feel like I should be over it by now. I’ve been away from him for two years, and all he had to do was look at me and I fell apart.”

“But you got away from him, Azzi. That makes you strong. A lot of people never get out.” Paige ducked her head to make sure Azzi was listening.

Azzi pulled her knees to her chest, laying her head on them to look at Paige. “I know a lot of the stuff he said isn’t true, but I don’t know the difference anymore.”

“Well stay, don’t run. I can show you. Soleil can show you. We will all show you what love looks like. Let me help you, please.” Paige’s heart cracked a little at the tears in Azzi’s eyes.

“I’m scared. I don’t know how.” Azzi whimpered.

Paige’s heart broke a little more. And she started to plan. She would do whatever she needed to make Azzi feel like the most loved woman she knew.

Paige draped on arm around Azzi’s shoulders and let the other come up to hold her face. “I’ll teach you, Az. I’ll show you. You just have to let me.” She wiped a tear as Azzi gave a single nod. “You don’t ever have to be alone again, Azzi. You’re not alone. I got you.”

[malevoreenthusiast]

Blue Collar Belly

Hey all! Sorry for being MIA for a bit, but I'm back and certainly haven't forgotten about any of you. I wrote this short story for a close friend, but I ended up wanting to post it here, too. As always, requests and asks are welcome! Enjoy~

With the job of “safety-man,” Jacob didn’t have a lot to do, but that didn’t mean his task wasn’t important. Him and the crew had been working on this construction site amidst the breezy spring months, and the time was finally upon them where they could listen to the first notes of the cicadas buzzing in the outstretched hand of summer. As all of the guys shifted positions each day, Jacob was stuck with potentially the most boring of them all—holding the ladder steady while someone else did the foundations and construction part of the job.

The position wasn’t all bad, though, as Jacob was able to daydream in Wonderland whilst he coworkers did all of the hard, albeit interesting, work.It was about midday and his senior by about twelve years—John—was at the top of the ladder, working on some lighting issue in the house they were contracted in. As a fresh guy out of high school, the relaxed and carefree Jacob hadn’t been paying much attention to the task at hand, rather looking out a nearby window and thinking about an upcoming vacation he had with his family. 

His mind had in fact drifted so far from the ladder that he didn’t notice his grip slowly lessen on the ladder. What’s worse, John started losing his balance without the stability Jacob provided. So, one thing led to another, and a tiny slip caused John to come crashing down—right on top of Jacob

The loud noise snapped Jacob back to attention; he looked up and opened his mouth to shout at John, when both guys went toppling onto the hardwood floor. Somewhat dazed, Jacob tried getting up, but the bulky weight of John prevented that. Then, another feeling clouded the forefront of his brain—something was in his mouth. As a blue-collar boy, Jacob had been raised to eat what was given to him, no matter the flavor. So, an involuntary reaction caused him to swallow hard. When the thing in his mouth wan’t all the way down his throat, Jacob swallowed again, feeling John shift slightly above him.

“Woah, woah! The fuck are you doin’, kid?” John tried to get up, but he seemed to be stopped by something.

Jacob wanted to speak, but the meaty flavor in his mouth was getting in the way, so his body started gulping faster, trying to devour whatever he had managed to fit in his maw so he could answer his superior. One final gulp sent the entirety of John’s hairy arm down his throat, and Jacob finally realized what he had been doing. Someway, somehow, Jacob had engulfed the entirety of John’s forearm and hefty bicep and shoulder into his mouth. What’s worse, he couldn’t stop himself. Be it his body’s involuntary reaction or the habits he had grown up with, Jacob’s lips stretched apart inhumanly far, allowing John’s head to fall into his gullet, caressed by his spongy and desperate tongue. Instinctually, Jacob put both hands on his coworker-turned-meal and began to push him deeper down his throat. For some reason, John tasted delicious, and he didn’t want to stop. His body’s urges took control, and he slurped down the senior’s shoulders and chest with alarming haste and frightening ease. Jacob felt his stomach slowly expand to encompass John’s arm into his stomach chamber, followed by his head and shoulders. He didn’t know how he was doing this, but he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. His body gulped and slurped and swallowed and sucked without any of Jacob’s own input. John’s legs were slurped down like noodles, without any apparent difficulty on Jacob’s part. His belly, which had ripped his shirt open when he was at John’s waist, wobbled and made disgusting, grotesque gurgling noises as John settled inside his gut.

“Oh my—UUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP—fuck. I’m—BBBBBWWWWAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP—so sorry bro—sir! I don’t even,” Jacob marveled at what had just happened. He didn’t even think about doing…this. His body just swallowed his coworker for him, and what’s worse, it felt really good. Jacob rubbed a calloused hand over his spherical belly and felt it jostle with the living person trapped inside.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

A neon green construction vest and orange hard hat ejected out of Jacob’s mouth like a canon. Where John was, he wouldn’t really be needing these any more. Gingerly, Jacob stood up (which was still quite difficult, as he had to carry around the extra weight of his coworker) and gingerly made his way over to the company truck, opting to take his lunch break, even though he had just had quite a big lunch. He wanted to apologize to John, but hey, now that John’s spot was open, Jacob might get a pretty nice promotion. Plus, Jacob was the youngest on the crew, so it was about time that someone threw him a bone—he just didn’t expect it to be a whole skeleton. 

Inside the gurgling belly, John could faintly hear the unzipping of Jacob’s lunch box. How the hell could this kid think to eat at a time like this? He could already feel the digestive juices pouring into the stomach chamber, and his skin started tingling. Worse yet, his breathable oxygen was already faint with the worker’s immense and crass belches he let out. For Jacob to be enjoying his lunch like nothing ever happened felt like the ultimate insult. With what little strength John could muster, he began pounding at the fleshy walls of Jacob’s belly, trying fervently to escape.

“Easy now, big guy. UUUURRRPPPPP,” Jacob belched out the side of his mouth, leaking even more oxygen for John. “Look man, I was taught never to turn down a free meal, and it sucks, but that’s just the way life goes. Just let my belly take care of you, and I’ll handle the rest,” Jacob smirked before biting into a peanut butter jelly sandwich his mom had made him that morning. Something told him that this John wasn’t going to be the only guy squirming around in his belly that day.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

P.S. if you made it this far--Freddie's Feat pt. 3 is going to be my next story, so keep your eyes peeled for that coming soon! ;)

[sweetfushi]

HIS LOVE HABITS PT 1.

fluff, slight angst | giyu tomioka, obanai iguro, sanemi shinaguzawa x reader, mentions of guilt, crying, mentions of death | word count. 1.1k ◦ notes. watching the new season is making me feel nostalgic about the start of the anime :(

GIYU TOMIOKA.

Giyu shows his passion for you by spending most of what would be his alone time with you. He doesn’t always talk much during the times he’s around you, but he isn’t opposed to you talking. Giyu doesn’t mind where he is, as long as he’s with you and knows you’re safe - despite his underlying feeling of perhaps being incapable of protecting you completely. Thus, he sometimes feels guilty for wanting to spend time with you, but he compensates for that by allowing you to guide him - choosing where to hang out, leading most conversations.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his alone time. You out of all people know best how much he indulges in silent reflection and meditation, but you’ve also noticed that he’d consult you for those things. He’d start using some of his silent reflection time to ask you questions riddled with guilt. He finds that you’re much like Tanjiro in your overwhelming ability to comfort people.

“You know,” you start as you’re walking alongside him, making your way to the noodle house, “I’m really thinking we need to change our plans. The owners know our orders at this point,” you grin, stretching your arms out.

“Supporting a small business doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he retorts, plopping his hand on your head and ruffling your hair slightly. “Besides, that makes ordering our food quicker, does it not?”

You roll your eyes but are forced to agree.

Following that brief conversation, the two of you spend the next half an hour eating to your hearts’ desires. Giyu will pause every few minutes to remove the food items from your plate that you don’t like and add them to his with a small smile, both at your sweet voice thanking him and the sight of more food on his plate.

You’ll always require a sweet treat after your meal, whether that be a drink or more food, so you either head into town to survey the sweet stands or drop by Mitsuri to see if she has any stored - she typically does and you’re forever grateful for that.

All the while, Giyu will let you ask him question upon question, start conversation after conversation, all without complaints just to lengthen the time he gets to spend with his beloved.

OBANAI IGURO.

Obanai expresses his love through promises. They’re never empty ones and he makes sure you know that, sometimes even goes as far as gently pulling your ear to discipline your ignorance towards such. Sometimes the promises are of small value, such as promising to not eat your food or not start training without you. Other times, they mean the entire world, where he’ll promise that he’ll return from a dangerous mission or that he’ll not get injured because he couldn’t ever be so weak as to let a demon injure him fatally.

Every time he promises you something, the eye contact with him is almost intimidating. Obanai feels as though averting his gaze from you connotes distrust and uncertainty, so he always ensures to gaze into your apprehensive eyes when he speaks his truth. In moments of vulnerability, when you’re crying late at night because you’re certain tonight awaits his death, he’ll emerge from the Master’s room determined to fulfil his assignment and not evoke worry.

When he sees you in such a state, sniffling and averting your gaze, he’s convinced that you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoia and fear.

“Are you really so sceptical of my return? Don’t be so foolish,” he says, narrowing his eyes at your despondent state. “I promise I’ll return to you.”

You hear Kaburamaru hiss before feeling him graze your cheek with his face. You whimper and allow him to do so, only until you motion for Obanai to sit beside you. He does so without question and cranes his neck to look into your eyes, to which you turn away from.

“Have I ever broken a promise made to you?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He huffs. “So what is your concern?”

You shrug but, in reality, know what is bothering you. Instead of telling him, however, you lift your head to look at him and pout in an attempt to satiate your tears. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t come back, Iguro. I swear.”

You can’t see his mouth, but you know he’s smiling as he nods and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

Sanemi shows his love for you through acts of service. Initially, you hadn’t noticed it, but you start questioning him when your katana appears sharper and cleaner, your uniform neatly pressed, and your food managed to suit your tastes.

“Have you only just noticed? I’m almost insulted,” he scoffs, gently smacking the back of your head only for you to groan and swat his hand away. “The swordsmiths are practically sick of me,” he grumbles, watching you admire the shine on your katana.

You grin and elbow his side, making him wince and shove you. “You’re so in love with me.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from,” he teases, flashing you his canines as the two of you lean closer to each other, faces inches apart as your childish squabbling continues. Sanemi snickers as you attempt to maintain your scowl but inevitably fail at the close proximity, turning into loud laughter when you slump over and rest your head on his chest.

As a Hashira, the Kakushi already know you, but recently have appeared in near fear of your presence (despite being aware of your empathetic personality). At one point, you explicitly ask why the change in treatment, to which they respond: “Shinazugawa-san isn’t forgiving if your uniform is anything but perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“As in washed, pressed and perfumed.”

You pause, shock evident in your expression. “Uh,” you almost break into laughter, “you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll… have a talk with him, make sure he’s not bullying you.”

The Kakushi give you a pointed look, to which you nod and purse your lips. You mumble, “well, he’s getting slapped.”

Sanemi always ensures that the menu provided to the cooks that cater to you suits your tastes. However, you’re highly concerned with the fact that Sanemi thinks anything is obtainable through an arbitrary expression of power, but you have the advantage of being able to discipline him for thinking such without consequence.

“The Kakushi help us, not serve us!”

“That’s a very liberal way of looking at it– ow!”Sanemi groans at the punches you land to his chest, making him double over and eventually lay down on the grass with no attempt of fighting back. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nicer.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[amorchai]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒.

written for my old blog but never posted!

pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x reader

words: 926

warnings/tags: established relationship, r is implied to have a period – however, not ultimately gender specific.

it had been early evening, the sun setting across the horizon of new york, a faded orange hue emitting in the small apartment window of your kitchen as you stand by the stove. you’re scrolling through your phone, trying to relocate the recipe with your ingredients waiting by the countertop.

however, from the moment you pour water into the large pot atop the heating hob, you jump at the sound of a tapping window. turning your head, you’re met with the masked face of spider-man, a dorky wave sent your way.

leaving your things to the side, you wipe your hands across your apron before walking towards the tiny window to push open, allowing peter to stumble into the room. “hey, baby,” his adorable voice starting as he tugs the backpack from his shoulders to place on the wobbly kitchen table which tilts upon impact, “still need to fix that,” peter notes to himself while pulling his mask off.

his spikey hair flops in front of his eyes as he discards the mask to the side, facing you with open arms who smiles at him warmly with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. peter places a kiss on your head as you melt into his chest.

“thought i’d find you in here at this time.”

“you know me too well,” you reply, mumbled against peter’s chest. he smirks, hands trailing up and down your arms softly while looking over your head to the array of ingredients, “what’s for dinner tonight?”.

pulling away from him, you walk towards the kitchen counter and back to the food ready to cook, allowing peter to follow you like a lost-puppy, arms swivelling so he can cuddle you from behind.

“noodles with veg, going to make some curry sauce,” peter hums approvingly, against your head. “that time of the month?” asks peter, knowing they’re two of your comfort foods merged together.

“yeah.”

“well, perfect timing, because in that case…” peter trails off, arms dropping from your side and allowing you to start cutting some spring onion, curiously listening for him to continue.

usually on days like this, he would stop by your apartment before going on patrol, leaving a bag of fresh clothes to change into when he would return to your side for night-time cuddles. however, tonight he has a thicker bag containing more things.

“what’s that, pete?” you ask curiously when the shuffling from behind stops, you turn your head to catch a glimpse of his face. he holds up three books under his chin with his eyes squished into an innocent, happy smile to show off.

“got you these,” his voice a murmur as his gloved hands moves the books into a tower while returning to your side to show you. cheesy romantic stories, laced with fake dating tropes or colleagues to lovers because it became a tradition to both read the same cliché books and talk about the scenarios afterwards.

you knew while he got you these, it was partly because he loves those categories himself and knew it would be up for grabs once you’re done. plus, you had little space left around the house for your endless books, mainly bought with or by peter himself, feeding the addiction.

but ever since dating you, finding your love in books appeasing and was able to take the time he lost when becoming spider-man to start reading again. your favourite date with your spider-boy being reading days in the café or under a tree during a warm summer’s day.

“thank you but you know more than anyone that i don’t need more books, pete,” you giggle and glance up at his proud and giddy expression as he dismisses your comment to show you the cover to the second book. “this cover reminded me of you, i really liked the purple background and illustrated flowers, plus this is also fake dating!”

you watch the way peter gushes, unable to look at the covers as you mainly focus on his reaction to his gestures so sweet but he considers casual. “are they all fake dating?” you ask with a grin, peter checking the third book before meeting her eyes, flitting between each one with his dorky smile matching yours.

“yup,” a pop in the ‘p’ while he responds.

“do you sometimes wish that you fake dated me first before we fell in love?” you ask in a teasing tone, watching as peter leans closer, nudging your nose as he shakes his head lovingly. “you didn’t give me time to, by the time you spilled the coffee on me i was already head over heels,” you scrunch your eyes at his response before he continued, “which is the cliché romantic meeting i’m more than happy to claim, we’re our own romance book, baby.”

with a kiss upon your lips, peter begrudgingly moves away with a displeasing groan while placing the books beside his bag, “gotta go on patrol, i’ll be back later, ‘k?”. you nod with a smile, turning back to the counter but watching peter as he moves to the open window, mask in hand.

“i’ll leave you some food in the fridge.” you comment as he slides the mask back over his face, leaning out the window but willing to respond normally, “thank you, baby. i better come back to you asleep with one of your new books.”

“you bet. be safe, spidey.” you reply, watching as he gives you a thumbs up before shooting a web at the building across, shouting while he jumps, “love you, baby!”

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[splitfictionthings]

Zoe and Mio Living Together Headcanons

- First, just for context for the rest of these headcanons, I will say they definitely did not get together immediately after the machine

- Girliepops speedran 6 months of emotional bonding they need some time to BREATHE

- That being said both of them are immediate fixtures in each others lives after that because neither of them really have anyone else

- Mio has her dad but he's in hospital and Zoe's family are in England so they naturally just gravitate to each other

- I headcanon Zoe moved to America not long before the whole Rader shebang to hope for better opportunities. I imagine that at the time of the Rader debacle she is living in a small apartment with 3 roommates who she doesn't know very well, and spends most of her time in her room alone. Mio, obviously having lived there for a while, has her own shitty 1 bed apartment, but it's hers and hers alone

- Anyway both of these girls are lonely and Zoe really wants to get out of the whole room share situation and Mio's like well I've not got a lot of space but you've been in my brain so we've definitely been closer

- So Mio manages to cram her desk into the living room and change the small office into a make shift bedroom and the girls are living together before the month is out

- Zoe sleeps on an air mattress for about two months and Mio feels bad about it and insists they swap beds every other day to avoid fucking up her back

- Zoe screams at the state of Mio's cupboards (girl is living on instant noodles and frozen pizza) and immediately goes to buy a bunch of stuff. They may be broke but Zoe can still make things like pasta and stir fries now they have two incomes. Mio will be eating a vegetable so help her god

- Neither of them can stick to a colour scheme. They keep finding cute decor and just buying it without thinking about the rest of the flat. When they get a house many years down the line the rooms have a loose theme but it's still mostly just chaos

- Mio has a nice squishy couch but prefers to lay on the floor. Similarly Zoe perches on the back of the couch like a heathen. The only time they sit normally on the couch is when their (limited unfortunately) friends come over

- Some of Rader's other victims asked to come over once to talk about what happened and both girls got so stressed that Mio locked herself in the bathroom for an hour panicking and Zoe stress-cleaned every room. Pretty on par for any visitors.

- Both had nightmares quite frequently after the Rader situation (duh). While they weren't quite bold enough to go crawling into each others beds they would still seek help. Every time Zoe insisted on having a 'sleepover' so they could be near each other.

- Speaking of sleepovers, Zoe once tried to have a proper 'girls night' with Mio. Unfortunately the face mask dropped on her lips and she licked it and proceeded to throw up. Kinda ruined the vibe.

- They still have 'girls night's though. Only Zoe's allowed to have a face mask though.

- Mio tries to get Zoe to watch horror films, then feels bad about Zoe hiding behind pillows for 30 mins and tries to change it. Zoe argues that she wants to see it through to the end. Both are too stubborn and then neither feel good at the end of it.

- They write on the same desk, whether it's their shared stories or separate stories. God forbid someone accidentally elbow the other because it'll end up in a pushing and shoving match with someone eventually getting wrestled under the other and bullied into submission.

- Zoe likes to tease Mio about being short by putting things up high. Mio is only a couple of centimetres shorter than Zoe but has shorter arms and consequently finds this extremely irritating. Zoe got her a step stool and Mio hid all her left socks for revenge.

- They have a wall calendar because neither of them can remember what they're meant to be doing. They then have alarms to remind them to put the stuff they need to do on the calendar because they forgot to do that as well.

- So. Many. Notebooks. Zoe refuses to do anything on a laptop and Mio's laptop is twenty years old and hanging on by spite alone. Entire bookshelves dedicated to notebooks.

[redcoralpot]

Eleganti - Poly!Stuilly x FTM!Reader

If you saw this before it was reposted, no you didn't.

Warnings: Implied internalized homophobia.

Summary: The heat has managed to affect all of you, and the only solution? A date at Stu's house with a dash of nail polish. You're sure they were both thrilled.

-

The summer heat truly had gotten to the three of you, with not even a cool breeze to give you relief. Rich boy Stu Macher’s parents were away for the weekend, again, which left his house the ideal place to take shelter in. If you had to be honest, you did not mind the temperature– kind of. The bottles of nail polish in your bag clinked together as you walked up the stairs; you knew Billy would be able to sit still long enough for it to dry. Stu, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure of. Not without heat and plenty of air flow.

Speaking of the devil, Billy glanced up from his book as you creaked the door open, leisurely spread on Stu’s bed. He raised an eyebrow at your appearance, before going back to reading, shifting a little to the side so you had more room to sit down. A smug grin slowly spread over your lips as you set your backpack down on the bed and unzipped it, making a show of the little, colorful bottles you displayed inside. You scooched beside it, and after setting down a towel in front of you, cracked open the first container.

Seeming to catch the smell, Billy spoke up, “Nail polish?”

“Yeah, want some?” He watched as you meticulously picked the colors you wanted, his mouth pursing.

“Not right now.”

You shrugged, applying a lavender base to your fingernails, “Suit yourself!”

Your hand flinched as the door was shoved open, smearing the liquid down your skin, only to be greeted by the eccentric figure of Stu. Upon seeing the predicament he caused, he bounced his shoulders and held up his hands beside his head, with an exaggerated frown. 

“Uh… whoops!”

He sauntered over, pressing his face into your shoulder. In response, you slapped the towel onto his face after wiping the spilled polish on the material. Stu grumbled something; it was ineligible. 

It eventually slid off on its own, with a little help from the teen shaking his head, “Suffocate me, why don’t you?”

Chuckling, you said, “You were the one who made me mess up, tough guy.”

“I totally meant for that to happen.” He slipped his arm over you, hanging like a sloth.

“If you meant it, then you have to be my test subject!”

Stu made a noise, contemplating. You wouldn’t force him to wear it, of course, but it was funny threatening something so harmless anyway. After just a few seconds, you felt the weight on your back release; Stu had moved in favor of shoving your bag into Billy to make space for himself. Then, the noodle of a guy flopped across from you, sitting criss-crossed with the most shit eating grin you have ever seen. Billy scowled at the rough treatment, but the expression was covered by the other’s knee.

He leaned forward, “Gimme orange.”

“Good choice!”

To prevent smearing, you blew on your covered nails as best you could, before bright orange coated the tiny brush in your hand. Stu seemed giddy as you took his hand, peering down, applying the cool liquid with precision. It was such a contrast to what his hand felt like; rough and as warm as a furnace. In the corner of your eye, you could see Billy’s eyes watching over Stu’s jeans, his book long forgotten. Finally, you finished, and allowed the fidgety boy to hold up his palms. His eyes were wide as he admired your handiwork, flexing his fingers with pride.

Stu tapped the top of Billy’s head with his elbow, “Hey, dude, want some of this?”

“Hm.”

“C’mon—”

“Black.”

You snickered, “I knew you’d crack.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned on Stu, holding out a hand. He shivered when you made a slight mistake, and gave you an unimpressed look as you fixed it with the edge of your towel. You could only complete one hand before he stopped you.

“Look who’s gonna be Cruella this Halloween!” Stu sneered, poking the other’s nose.

“Hey, hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You shut the bottle, carefully sealing them all back in your bag, “Fuddy duddy William could be making a new trend.”

“Never call me that again. Is this enough for you two?”

Stu cocked his head, “Lemme think… nope.”

You stretched your body out, setting your belongings on the ground. Opening Stu’s own closet, you ran your fingers over the variety of shirts and robes the guy had. In the very back, there was a band shirt, obviously too small for Stu; he grew out of it by the time he was sixteen. You held it out, studying it, before shrugging and taking it off the hanger. Your shirt flew over your head and smacked Stu in the face, but the air soothed the sweat that was gathering under your double sport bras, at least for a moment. Then, the newer shirt covered everything back up, and the dark material banned anyone from clocking the extra layers underneath.

“Why don’t we go out for ice cream?” you suggested.

Stu pumped his fist, even though your shirt was still clinging to his body. Billy shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips when Stu ran out the door, presumably to get his car keys. You, on the other hand, hesitated when you saw a shadow underneath the shirt, where your chest lay. The only other boy left in the room must have caught on, because you felt a passing hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear.

“You look fine, it’s normal.”

He met your gaze. However, someone was getting impatient, as a muffled shout rang through the closed window, “Coming? I’m totally getting pistachio this time, and you gotta be here to see me try it!”

-

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝KISS ME BETTER, PLEASE?❞

— fluff, satoru x reader, shoko and geto cameo, typical sick satoru and reader is an enabler but he’s cute so it’s fine <3

Chicken noodle soup, apple juice, ginger tea, and a hefty amount of snacks. Besides a plethora of cuddles and kisses, you’d gotten pretty much everything that Satoru requested.

You speedwalk, borderline sprint, back to your shared apartment. Shoko and Geto agreed to take care of a very sick Satoru while you went grocery shopping for more supplies, but knowing him (and those two) he was likely annoying the hell out of them and they were probably about to strangle him dead.

Balancing bags on either arm, and one between your teeth, you flail your keychain around until the house key makes itself known, shoving it in the lock and stumbling into the living space. Before you can even announce yourself, you hear Satoru, raspy voice and all, feebly calling for help from the bedroom. It sends a protective panic through your spine, and you drop the plastic bags in the doorway before hurriedly shuffling down the hall.

“Satoru?,” you call out to him. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Your boyfriend lets out a muffled-sounding groan as loud as his sore throat will allow. Fearing the worst, you rush towards the cracked open door of the bedroom, tossing it open and staggering inside to be met with–

“Hey, no!,” you stomp over, smacking Geto’s hand away from Satoru’s squished cheeks. “Stop that right now, Suguru!”

The man chuckles at you, Shoko huffing in mild annoyance nearby as she fiddles with a cigarette. “It was the only way to shut him up, he was bein’ all whiny and mopey while you were gone.”

Shoko reaches over to poke Satoru in the cheek, causing him to shrivel away into your awaiting arms. She giggles, but she and Geto avoid the angry gaze directed at them, fearful of your wrath.

“Don’t be mean to my Satoru while he’s sick.,” you scold and point an accusatory finger at the two. “Out, both of you.”

Geto gets up from his spot on the edge of the bed, hands tossed up in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

Satoru sticks a triumphant tongue out at them and Geto starts to throw up a middle finger before meeting the daggers of your eyes. He escorts himself out, Shoko close behind him, and Satoru snuggles deeper into your arms, red and sniffling face stuffed into your chest.

“They were so mean to me, baby, so mean!,” he pouts, even more dramatic than usual. “Hurt my feelings. Kiss me better, please?”

He blinks those woeful, puppy-dog eyes at you, and you can’t help pressing a lingering kiss to his abnormally warm forehead. Satoru grins, happy to have finally gotten the smooch he’s been craving these last few days, and the hug around your waist tightens.

“Got some snacks for you in the other room, love, lemme go grab you some.,” you coo into his bright white hair.

Satoru shakes his head, voice barely able to be made out as he smothers his face into the heat of your body again. “No, please. Stay here.” He says it less like a plea and more like a matter-of-fact statement, because he already knows you’ll stay.

You sigh against the crown of his head and caress the wild mess of white hairs between your fingers. Satoru heaves a deep, content breath, eyes fluttering close against your shirt, and his raspy inhales grow even as minutes pass. His hold on you gradually loosens, and you feel his body go limp as he presumably falls asleep in your clutches.

“Satoru…?,” you whisper.

“Don’t you go anywhere.,” he mumbles, exhausted, and you giggle. “I mean it, you.”

“Okay.,” you sigh in defeat and settle in next to him atop the covers. He clings onto you immediately like a teddy bear, limbs tangling with yours and Satoru curls up the best he can into your side. He shoves his head back into your palm, a silent plea for you to massage his scalp some more, and you entertain him without question.

“ ‘Kay, baby, goin’ to sleep.,” Satoru mutters into your neck and, amongst the the fatigue, you can hear light traces of playfulness in his voice.

“Good.,” his smile grows wider when you place another kiss on his temple. You’re sure to be sick in the next week. “Sleep well, babes.” And Satoru squeezes you a little tighter before caving in to slumber.

[aetherdoesthings]

did you see the arlecchino animation and teaser??? a;fasjl;f

they make me so sad :(( also, the teaser was hot af tho, had me so downbad. arlecchino's lore is just so 😭

~EL anon

would you like new toys?

i simped so hard during the animation and teaser i decided to write a mini series fic about arlecchino. i have a lot of thoughts about it and now i'm regretting not taking up your offer lmao

forethoughts: my love language is writing someone an entire fic about them (not really, but i will write you an entire letter).

notes: fem!reader in mind, but gn!. NOT AN x READER!! READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!

In every cluster of children, there was always one that had trouble making friends. 

That title was unfortunately bestowed upon you.

Always excluded in activities and games, left to play in the corner with the leftover, worn out toys while everyone chose the newest and best toys in the box. It had always been that way; you didn’t see it changing any time.

Father was always more lenient and caring with you. She made sure you were the first in line to get breakfast, lunch and dinner. While everyone had a curfew, you were allowed to wander the halls freely and exit your room. That of course didn’t make it any easier for you to make friends. 

Like a robot given the same set of codes and no changes, days blurred into weeks, and weeks blurred into months while you lived your solitary life. 

~

You sat crossed leg, facing the corner of the playroom, hands empty. You ran out of luck; all the toys were already gone by the time you got to the box. Letting out a sigh, boredom finally consumed you, prompting you to stand up, brush the dust off your shorts as you exited the playroom. No one batted an eye or even glanced at your direction; to them you were invisible. To everyone you were invisible.

Wandering the halls of the House of Hearth at night gave you a pretty good scope on the architecture of the building. If someone asked you where the infirmary was or the bathroom, you could accurately pinpoint the location for them. You looked at the colorful glass panes on the sides of the halls, raising a hand to block the sunlight from hitting your face. They called you a dreamer, delusional for your ideas and thoughts. Said your hopes were far too high. Father always disagreed. Father always disagreed with whatever the others called you.

A sudden shriek was ripped out of your throat as your body went sideways, shoulder hitting an even stone ground. You winced, forcing yourself to sit as you examined your body. You could barely make out what was your leg and arm with the lighting. Standing up, you decided to explore the uncharted territory in your little mind map. The walls were lined with sharp blades that glimmered under the narrow light source opposite to the swords. You looked behind you, to your sides, in front of you, as you allowed curiosity to take hold of your mind. With two hands, you lifted one of the blades from its holding place, letting it fall onto the ground. You dragged the blade along the stone to the center of the room, ignoring the shriek of protest the sword was making. Letting out a deep breath, you gripped your hands around the hilt of the sword, lifting it as high as you could. When you’d finally lift it over your head, a triumphant cheer exited your mouth, eyes admiring the shine and sharpness of the blade like a bee eyeing a flower. 

“Children like you should not be wielding such dangerous objects.” Your muscles went limp, bones turning into uncooked noodles as your head spun to the direction of the voice. Father. Fear wasn’t just done with taking hold of your body. Fear was transmitted into the blade itself. Before you knew it, a sharp pain emitted through your forehead, a rush of warmness surging towards the area. The sword fell on your side, next to your collapsed body.

“Y/N!” Father was instantly by your side. Through that cold and emotionless facade, you could see a flash of worry and fear in her eyes. Fear. Father felt fear. Your head was placed in Father’s arms, knees hooked onto her other arm as you were rushed out of the dark room.

You sat on Father’s table in silence, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt as you stared at your dirt covered, bruised hands. Father reciprocated the silence, as she stood in front of you, using a cotton ball to dab up the blood. You winced at the serum that was infused with the cotton against your fresh wound, knuckles turning white. Father didn’t let out any remark at your wince, rather you could feel her actions becoming more gentle and tender. 

“This might hurt.” Father muttered, picking up something from her tray of material, the object having a thin string tail behind. You could barely stifle a shriek as the needle penetrates your skin, the lithe object dancing from one side to another, piercing hole after hole in your skin. You gripped onto your sleeve for life until your hand was ghost white, as Father stitched up your wound before you could blink. Father let out a sigh, snipping any remaining string as she set the needle on the tray. Her eyes shifted downwards, her lips pursed as you felt her gaze burning into your skull.

“...I’m sorry.” You murmured quietly, the words regurgitating out of your mouth, unable to squeeze anything out under her gaze.

“I thought I told you that recklessness always leads to failure. What were you doing out of the playroom?”

“...” You could feel the corners of your eyes starting to burn up, your mouth quivering. Father noticed. Of course she did. 

“Look at me.” Father sighed. 

Reluctantly, you lifted your head, meeting Father’s eyes. Instead of scorn and disappointment, you were met with understanding and warmth, her pursed lips turning into a thin smile. Thin. Just like the ice you were on. Father could smile all she wanted, but you knew you were as good as dead.

Father’s hand went for your head, sharp fingers combing through your hair. “What type of toy do you like, Y/N? I am planning to get more for the toybox; it appears we have a shortage of toys. Of course, I would like to get the best and newest toys for all. I was wondering what you would like to see and play with.”

Your heart moved an inch higher from your stomach, still threatening to fall and combust into millions of pieces. “U-Uhm… I d-don’t know…”

“Speak up, my child.”

“I-I don’t know… what toys I like, Father…” 

Father let out a chuckle. “Of course. How could you choose your favorite in an empty box?”

You looked down at her words. Of course Father knew.

“Y/N.”

You looked back up at her, meeting her playful eyes, a look you knew she only gave you and you only. 

“How about I introduce you to some… new toys not any of the other children have seen? Would you like some new toys?”

“Toys… the others haven’t seen?” You tilt your head at that statement.

“Yes. Toys the others have not seen. Are you interested? I will personally teach you how to… play with these toys.”

You nodded your head, a small hesitant smile on your face. Father never offered the other children new toys. Father never offered how to play with toys. Father never played with the others.

The corners of Father’s thin lips tugged upwards slightly, as her finger hovered over your wound. She helped you off the desk, hand holding yours as she led you out of her office. “It is almost time for lunch. But I would rather you get some rest after what happened. Rest assured I will bring food to your room.”

“Y-Yes, Father.” You mumbled.

Father led you to your room upstairs, setting you on the plush mattress as the blanket was draped over your body. She ran her fingers through your hair again, petting your head before strolling out of the room. “Rest well, my child.”

~

Arlecchino closed the door, letting out a sigh. She made her way back downstairs to join the other children. “Rest assured, my child, no one will ever dare to lay a finger on you anymore. No harm shall ever come your way.”

[silenttrxxs]

choi san x reader

something a little cute!

you had been feeling under the weather lately, the constant late nights trying to get the work done before the deadline. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration as you type the last letter. "baby..." you hear sung through the house as you hear the footsteps coming behind you. You felt his hands cover your shoulders, the warmth spreading across your arms and down your back. You felt the stress leaving your bones as his hands made light work of massaging your shoulders, leaning down to place some soft kisses to your neck. The warmth of his pure and undying love spreading through your veins. You felt the soft laugh leaving his body as you craned your neck to allow him more access to your neck, your hands reaching up to touch him. "lets get you away from this computer darling, I have a lovely day planned for us." he whispered into your ear helping you to stand up from the chair.

You smiled softly at him before turning and lifting your hands to caress his face. You looked at him, taking in his every feature. "so where are we going then my love" you asked softly, before turning around and rooting through your wardrobe pulling out something that would make you look less like you had been sitting in your bubble for the past 4 days.

You grabbed your favourite jeans and a cute top and stood back, getting changed, you looked around and laughed to yourself.

San smiled as he watched you getting ready, he grabbed his keys and slid his shoes on at the door.

"you ready baby?" he asked as he intertwined your hands together and lead you to the street below.

you giggled as he lead you towards his car parked up. "right first things first, lets treat you some food, you have been living on the worst thing ever. who even likes chicken noodles in a packet thats grossssss" he laughed. "hey dont diss the work monster, at least i managed to eat sir" you giggled.

"well you sit back and enjoy the ride it wont be long till we get there" He said connecting his phone and playing your favourite songs before starting up the car and making your way there.

You arrived outside, parking up and smiling as san walked around to open the door for you, offering his hand to you and helping you out of the car.

You smiled and gasped when you looked up realising he had reserved a table at the restaurant he took you too for your first date.

"sannie" you said choking a little at your words as tears welled up in your eyes. "hey hey hey dont cry baby, i just thought youd like to have a trip down memory lane" he said wiping the tears that fell from your eyes. "now come on lets get some good food and ill try not to make you cry more" he said leading you both into the restaurant.

You smiled as you took your seat and looked at san. Your mind was flooding with nothing but love for the man in front of you, you couldnt be more thankful that you happened to have stumbled upon him throughout your hectic and somewhat silly life. You prayed that the world would give you a break and allow you to experience this love for the rest of your life.

[colettebronte]

She Rings Like a Bell Through the Night: Chapter 8

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Pairing: Vampire!Anthony Bridgerton x Witch!fem Reader

Summary: The Witch arrives in China and makes some new acquaintances

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ for the overall fic. Specific to this chapter: nothing really, it’s another tame chapter. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: Apologies for the long wait for this chapter. The next one is written and has been betaed so it will not be too long until the next update, I promise! Thank you as always to @fayes-fics for being the best and most patient beta reader

Canton, China 1750-1775

The journey from England to the continent of Asia is not a pleasant one. Aside from the interminably long time at sea, rough waters combined with only single-minded merchants for company leaves you more than ready to disembark the first chance you get when the ship docks at the port city of Canton, China.

The weeks of solitude at sea leave you with plenty of time to study the various languages you may encounter. You take in all you can but just to be certain, you cast a spell over yourself that enables you to understand any language different from your own. The spell also allows you to be understood in turn.

Once on land, you learn that as a foreigner, there are only a few places you are allowed to travel to in the city. Thankfully for you, one of those places happens to be a tea house that rents rooms to travelers.

When you first enter the Zhao Family Tea Room and Boarding House, you are overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and scents that abound. Smoke fills the air of the main room and is full of men sitting on plush cushions around wooden tables low to the ground. The room goes silent for a moment as they all look up at you but then just as quickly they go back to their business.

A young man leads you to a table in the corner, under a window that has a stained glass bird, its large wings catching the sunlight and bathing the table in brilliant colors. You pick up snippets of conversation around you as local merchants haggle with each other over the prices of herbs, spices, fabric, dyes and gems. Clearly you have landed yourself in the unofficial hub of the city.

Though you had not placed an order, the young man returns with a large bowl filled with a fragrant broth full of noodles and vegetables. He places it down before you along with a spoon. Before you can thank him, the man nods and then walks away, disappearing behind a red silk curtain, accented with gold symbols.

You dip your spoon into the broth and take a sip, closing your eyes as your senses are overtaken by the most wonderful taste. You can’t begin to place the herbs and spices used, but you’re happy to have plenty of time to figure them out.

Later, when you’ve finished your meal, you offer to pay but the young man refuses you, glancing back at the red silk curtain. You follow his gaze, only to see an elegant, older woman watching you with sharp eyes. Looking away from her, you inquire about renting a room for a few nights. The young man looks nervous for a moment and then once again glances back at the woman who nods her consent.

That night finds you in a large room with an ornately carved wooden bed and a mattress that rivals the one you slept in at the stone cottage with Anthony. When you sink into it, your sleep is the most peaceful one you’ve had since leaving England. You dream of being held in a pair of warm arms, a familiar smokey scent pervading the air.

Over the next few weeks you spend your mornings in the town market, buying local produce and herbs, gleaning what information you can from the vendors. Fascinated by their healing properties, you bring them back to the tea house and make notes at what has become your table under the stained glass bird window, all the while feeling the keen, watchful eyes of the woman, Madame Zhao, upon you.

After a month in residence, she at last approaches you. You’re cataloguing some ginger root when she sits down on the cushion across the table from you, her blue and red robe floating down elegantly around her. You look up from your work, curious.

“I have been watching you,” she says airily. She looks down at the ginger and your notations and then back up at your face, continuing, “You are no merchant or trader looking for a quick fortune.”

You nod but say nothing, not certain where this is going. Madame Zhao does not make you wait long to find out.

She gestures to the ginger root, her long, gold earrings swaying as she does so. “You are interested in our medicinal herbs, are you not?” 

“Yes Madam,” you say. “At first I thought they were just for cooking but I’ve learned about how most of them have healing properties. I’d like to learn how to use them to treat ailments.”

Madame Zhao nods, giving you an appreciative look. “Healing, alas, is not one of my talents. But I have a friend who is like you and lives in a nearby village. She has become an expert over many years of study and I am certain she will be happy to teach you what she knows.” She stands and with a decisive nod says, “I will write and invite her to stay.”

Before you can ask any questions or even thank her, Madame Zhao turns and swiftly walks away. After a moment, you replay her words and with a pit forming in your stomach, wonder what exactly she meant by having a friend who is exactly like you.

Three weeks later, you find out when one evening a pale, beautiful, young-looking Englishwoman with strawberry blonde hair carrying several large bags enters the tea house.

You’re sitting at your table, the light of the full moon filtering through the stained glass. As Madame Zhao greets her warmly, a feeling of familiar magic fills your senses. You raise your hand to roll the bead Violet gave you between your thumb and middle finger. As you do, it centers you. The more you study the newcomer the more you see it; the resemblance she bears to Violet and Anthony. Her eyes are blue, like her mother, but the way she carries herself is all her brother. A complicated look crosses her face as she, in turn, looks at you. You realize that she, like Violet once did, senses your blood bond with her brother.

After a brief conversation, Madame Zhao leads the woman over to your table. You stand to greet them.

“Y/n, this is my dear friend Daphne. I have known her since I was very young.” Madame Zhao says carefully, as if trying to gauge your reaction.

You offer them both a gentle smile. “It is an honor to meet you,” you say quietly, extending your hand.

Daphne takes it and upon contact you feel it confirmed; the familiar fizzing of Bridgerton family magic. You both stare at each other for a long moment before Daphne glances down at your wrist where Anthony had drank from you.

“I see,” she says softly. And then looking back into your eyes says louder, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I look forward to teaching you all I can.”

Still holding her hand you say, “Thank you. I am excited to learn.”

Madame Zhao claps her hands together, breaking the spell between you and Daphne.

“Most excellent,” the proprietress says. “Let us have some dinner and tea to celebrate!”

And so over the next few months, Daphne does just as she promised. Under her tutelage you gain a greater understanding of Chinese herbs and their medicinal properties. You readjust your sleep schedule to be in tune with her just as it was when you traveled with Violet. Your mornings are spent in the markets, procuring items from a list prepared for you the night before. You spend the afternoon sleeping and then join your new friend for lessons over dinner and fine tea under the watchful eyes of Madame Zhao and your beloved stained glass bird.

What you don’t do however, is bring up Anthony or Violet. You’re not certain how to even start, deciding instead to wait for her to brooch the subject of her family. It’s nearly a full year to the night you met when she finally does, spurred on by you wearing a familiar light blue dress.

Daphne is staring at you with wide, azure eyes as you take your seat before a steaming bowl of soup. You self-consciously adjust the cuffs of your dress as your companion looks from your pendant, to your dress and finally to your wrist as you raise it to take a heaping spoonful of soup.

Her eyes are shining as she speaks, a tremor in her sweet voice. “That dress belonged to my sister Eloise.”

You put down your spoon to take one of her hands. “I know,” you say quietly. “Violet told me. We traveled together for many years.”

 Daphne squeezes your hand, her voice a whisper as she asks, “How is she?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you recall your adopted mother. “She is well, if not a little sad. I know she misses you all so much.” You touch the bead she gave you, before continuing, “She is an amazing woman. I never knew what it was like to have a mother until I met her.”

A tear rolls down her cheek at your words. She gives your hand another squeeze and says, “And now you have a sister as well.”

You’re both openly weeping when Madame Zhao comes over to your table with a fresh pot of tea. She stares between you for a long moment, clearly unimpressed with your display of emotion. She sets down the teapot and shakes her head, muttering as she walks away. You both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Before you know it, it’s been nearly two and a half decades when Daphne declares that she has taught you all she possibly can. Your Book of Shadows has nearly doubled in size with page after page of the wisdom she’s shared with you.

Daphne gives you the name of one of her former students, Lady Mary Sharma who resides in Bombay, India and has an extensive knowledge of Southeast Asian medicinal herbs. She insists there is no need to write to her, Lady Sharma will be expecting you.

Though you are sad to leave Daphne and even the imperious, but kind Madame Zhao, you are excited to embark on your next adventure, if not a little apprehensive of another long journey at sea.

On your last night in Canton, Madame Zhao prepares a veritable feast for your farewell supper, all manner of dishes and fine drinks. Even though only you and Madame Zhao partake in the food, the meal is warm, and the company pleasant. She gives you a small replica of the stained glass bird, encased in resin to preserve it from the rigors of travel. You smile at her in gratitude, knowing a hug would be unwelcome. Daphne hands you a tiny silk pouch, which when you tip the contents out into your hand reveals a bead made from a dark blue stone, marbled with gray. It’s Lapis Lazuli, a stone for healing. Needing no encouragement you take off your pendant and string the bead on your necklace chain so that it rests on the opposite side from the bead Violet gave you. 

You give Daphne a warm embrace of thanks and before you go to bed for the night, a promise to send word to Madame Zhao once you have arrived at Lady Sharma’s residence. Your final sleep is nearly dreamless except for the feel of warm arms wrapped around you and lips pressed to your temple.

Next Chapter

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @hottytoddyhistory @laniec03 @sky0401 @kwbaby24 @spideymanluver @queenofmean14 @jtheteenagewitch

[svnnyd4ys]

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy: A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can i request a conrad fisher fic with ‘santa doesn’t know you like i do’ by sabrina carpenter? thank u smsm i love ur writing

I've been loving Sabrina Carpenter at the moment, thank you for the idea anon <3 It fits right with an idea I had in my list!

Warnings: mention of losing a parent (Susannah)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Dressed in a red sweater and sparkly skirt, you were about to head to your aunt’s house for Christmas dinner. But just as you were reaching for your coat, you saw Jeremiah’s name on your phone screen. A frown formed between your eyebrows as you answered. 

‘’Hello?’’

‘’Are you with Conrad?’’ 

He sounded worried through the phone. You could feel the prayer for a positive answer in his voice, which made your frown deepen. 

‘’No. Why?’’ 

‘’He didn’t come home. He said he would. He promised Dad— He’s not answering my texts or picking up my calls.’’  

‘’Maybe he got held back at college because of the snow?’’

Jeremiah denied that supposition. ‘’I don’t think so. I called his roommate at Brown and he said he left last night.’’

‘’Maybe he went to Laurel’s? He’s talked about going to Pennsylvania this winter break.’’ 

‘’I already called her. We don’t know where he is. He hasn’t talked to anyone in the last few weeks. You’re the only one he talks to. That’s why I thought he might have been with you.’’ 

A heavy pause hung in the air as you recalled your and Conrad’s last conversations, trying to find a clue of where he was. He talked about finals and living off coffee and cup-o-noodles and how excited he was to eat a home-cooked meal, even if it was mashed potatoes or chicken that wasn’t in a nugget form. The sweater he got Jeremiah for Christmas. His roommate. His mom and the bike he got her last Christmas. It’s still in the garage, at the exact place she left it. 

‘’I think I might know where he is,’’ you said. 

It was a wild guess, but it was Conrad’s comfort place. 

‘’Where?’’ Jeremiah's urgency echoed through the phone.

You shook your head although he couldn’t see. ‘’I’m sorry Jeremiah, but I think it’s best if I go by myself. I’ll call you when I get there.’’ 

⁂

Armed with your double espresso, you braved through the snowy roads and drove to Cousins. It was a wild guess, but you were confident enough that he was there. It was the place he went to every time he wanted to be with his mom again. That house was Susannah all over. She had handpicked everything that was inside, painted all the paintings on the walls, and placed every little trinket just the way she wanted. 

Your family was disappointed that you had to cancel dinner at the last minute, but if Conrad was at the beach house, you couldn’t leave him alone. No one should spend Christmas alone. Especially not after losing a parent. 

Propped and clipped to your car’s air vents, your phone screen showed several texts from Jeremiah, all trying to get more information about Conrad. You ignored them all and focussed on the road and taking the right directions. 

After three hours, you finally arrived to Cousins. The small town was dark. Most small shops were closed — it was almost 11pm —, barely any houses were decorated for Christmas as most residents only came for the summer. 

You pulled in the familiar driveway and parked your car. A light layer of snow coated the grounds, allowing the grass to peek through. The air was crisp, and you could see your breath as you walked up to the porch. 

Using the spare key that was hidden under the doormat, you unlocked the door and let yourself in. It was dark and cold as the power was not turned on outside the summer months. The air was a bit stale too from being inhabited. 

As you ventured further into the entryway, you could see light coming from the living room — the fireplace. Using that light to guide you, you called Conrad’s name. He had to be there. If he wasn’t, someone else was in the Fishers’ beach house.

The tension in your shoulders dropped when you saw him asleep on the couch, a thick plaid over his curled up body. He looked so small like this. You got closer and gently said his name, not wanting to startle him. Conrad was a light sleeper. He stirred, slowly waking, a mixture of surprise and sadness in his eyes when he saw you.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Conrad asked, noticing your skirt and sheer tights. He knew it was Christmas eve. You should be with your family, not in Cousins.

‘’Jeremiah called me, he was worried,’’ you explained briefly.

‘’How did you know I was here? I didn’t tell anyone...’’

No one knew Conrad like you did. You were there through the good and the bad — and there was a lot of this bad this past year. You were the one who had brushed his tears at his mother’s funerals. You knew all of his favorite songs and picked up every time he called regardless of the time. You always knew just how to make him laugh. 

You sat on the edge of the couch, giving your best friend a soft look. ‘’No one knows you like I do.’’ 

The smallest smile curled on his lips. ‘’I’m glad you’re here,’’ he admitted, a veil of tears in his eyes. ‘’I thought I wanted to be alone, but it makes me miss her more.’’

Your heart broke and you pulled him in your arms.

—

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[starmieknight]

Stars Align

Dipper Vs. Manliness

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2, The Inconveniencing (previous)

Special thank you to @disregardedblasphemy for beta reading! You're awesome <3

At one point, Stan had a bit of a crush on Lazy Susan. She’d been real cute and pretty sweet back when he first met her and she hadn’t been too upset about what happened to her eye. As the years passed, she was just one of the few single people left in his age range. That he actually liked, anyway.

Who knew so many people got married when you got old!

Now with his baby face in the way, Stan just didn’t feel right flirting with her like he normally did.

Using his ‘charming young man’ powers on her though―!

“You do split plates, right?” Stan asked, ducking his head shyly and peering up at Susan through his lashes. “We’re just poor, hungry kids on a budgeted allowance…”

Susan laughed and pinched his cheek.

“You’re just like your daddy, aren’t you? We always make an exception for Big Stan ― I can do it for Little Stan, too!”

Stan chuckled awkwardly, ignoring the ‘daddy’ comment, and offered the waitress a blinding smile.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a shutter sound and some muffled giggles.

“Tambry!” Mabel whispered, practically climbing over the back of the booth to speak to the girl on the other side. “Send me that for my scrapbook!”

Stan did his best to ignore that. And the fact that Tambry was still taking pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Instead, he just pushed on with his order, ignoring Mabel’s protests that she wanted pancakes.

He could have made those himself if she'd wanted them so much!

Dipper, however, was more sympathetic to his sister’s plight.

“Don’t worry, guys!” he said confidently. “Pancakes are on me. I’m gonna win them by beating that manliness tester!”

“Manliness tester?” Stan asked blankly, remembering the machine that had been in the diner forever.

“Beating?” Mabel asked incredulously before bursting into laughter.

And Stan might have laughed with her if he hadn’t seen how scrappy the boy really was,  getting into fist fights with psychotic nine year olds and breaking into buildings. Still, the boy was built like a noodle and not in the typically stocky manner most Pines boys were. He didn’t even have their trademark nose, his mother’s genetics probably the cause for that. The color of it was right on point, though.

“Hold on there, sweetheart.” Stan put a hand on Mabel’s head to quiet her down, but wasn’t quite able to stop the snort that came with the mental image of Dipper beating the tester. “Your brother’s not as geeky as he seems, sometimes. I wanna see him try! Besides, it’ll be a good chance for me to see where he is before I start yous two on boxing lessons!”

“You’re going to teach us how to box?” Dipper asked skeptically.

Stan’s grin widened and he flexed his arms, thick cords of muscle visible even under his baby fat.

“You’re lookin’ at the best boxer from Glass Shard Beach! Goldmill Gym’s got all my old trophies lining the walls!”

At least, it had forty years ago. Old Man Nicky was surely dead now and probably had been pissed enough to throw out Stan’s medals when he’d disappeared into the night. Besides, the man had been friends with Pa ― Stan wouldn’t be surprised if the medals were melted down to make gold chains.

You’re a bum, Stanny. But you can take a hit and give ‘em back twice as hard.

Mabel latched onto Stan’s bicep, giggling wildly as he curled his arms a few times, threatening to drop her back into the booth.

“Hmmm,” Dipper hummed, eyeing Stan’s arms thoughtfully. “...okay. I mean, how different could it be from kickboxing?”

Stan grinned at him. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! Now ― go win us some pancakes!”

Dipper beamed at him.

It didn’t last long, however, the boy failing miserably and running out in the face of Manly Dan showing him up. Stan didn’t think the man meant anything by it. He probably just wanted more pancakes or was trying to feed what he thought was a bunch of hungry kids. He was just like that sometimes. Blunt and lacking tact.

Stan was the same.

He looked between his plate and the empty doorframe, conflicted.

Was he supposed to chase after the kid or give him space so he could lick his wounds?

Moses, he missed Old Nicky ― the man would already have a diet planned to help put muscle on the kid or have him chasing chickens and bench pressing hogs. He had a weird way of training his boxers, but he’d made Stan quick on his feet and able to find a weak spot on guys with more fat rolls than average.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel rested her hand gently on Stan’s arm. Her smile was familiar, but it didn’t really meet her eyes. She almost looked guilty.

“Of course, he will.” Stan smiled back at her half-heartedly. “He’s a Pines. We always end up alright.”

Mabel didn’t look convinced, but she let it go for a moment. She began eating her pancakes, but some of her enthusiasm was lost.

“... do you think I shouldn’t have laughed at him?”

Stan winced, hearing the hurt in her voice. “Probably didn’t help…”

Mabel deflated, losing some of her usual vibrancy. “He’s really serious about becoming a man. Growing chest hair and wishing his voice would stop cracking…”

“People make it into a big deal.” Stan shrugged, remembering how he’d waited for those body changes a lifetime ago. There’d been the awkward days with acne and voice cracks, not to mention realizing he could have a crush on nearly anyone who showed him a smidgeon of positive attention. He could only sympathize with how Dipper was feeling, especially with Stan around in his current state. The kid was probably wondering when he was going to start shooting up and filling out like his uncle. Shermie and Alec were both built big as well. Dipper probably was feeling left out. “He’s gotta figure out his new place and his body’s going through some… changes. Speaking of, please tell me your mom has had The Talk with you…”

Mabel snorted, a gleam returning to her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan.” she snickered. “Mom told me everything to expect last year.”

Stan sagged in relief. “Just let me know if you need… any feminine products. Or chocolate. Or just tell Wendy and I’ll give her the money.”

Moses, was it hot in here or were his ears on fire. He never expected to have this conversation. Why did it have to be so awkward?! He’d had a mother, for crying out loud ― and a girlfriend who’d been very vocal about what cramps and mood swings did to her.

Mabel just laughed at him again, bouncing back to her normal self with an ease he envied.

“Do you think he’ll be alright once he’s done with puberty?” she asked thoughtfully, trying her straw wrapper into a neat bow. “I mean, you seem alright going through it a second time.”

Stan snorted at that. “Nah, I was pretty much set as soon as I hit sixteen the first time. The only thing that stuck around for a while was the acne. That didn’t really go away until my thirties.”

“I thought that went away after you turned twenty!” Mabel exclaimed, her face twisting with horror.

“Nope!” Stan propped his chin up on his hand, leaning close to give her a good look at the bumps on his chin. “Maybe it won’t be so bad once you get over the hump of the hormone changes, but pimples’ll pop up at random forever! But your face thingies helped mine the other day.”

“We should get you some pimple patches for the little ones!” Mabel suggested, poking a red spot on Stan’s cheek. He hissed at the little jolt of pain it caused and she pulled her hand away, expression apologetic. “Ohh! We should do another spa day!”

“Spa day?” a somewhat familiar voice asked from behind them. Tambry popped up over the back of their seat, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Count me in.”

“Me, too!” Wendy announced, sliding into the booth across from them. “We should get Stan some better clothes, too. He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for weeks.”

“I wash them!” he protested indignantly.

“You’re gonna wear them out like that.” the redhead pointed out easily. “Also, you smell like an old man. Switch your cologne.”

“I don’t wear cologne to work. That’s just aftershave.” He rubbed his chin with a grimace, resenting the fact that his facial hair had been so patchy as a teenager. It looked weird if he didn’t shave every morning. Back when he was old, his five-o’clock shadow had been fine enough for tours ― now he just looked stupid.

“We should get him a jacket that fits!” Mabel suggested, bouncing in her seat with her thoughts a million miles away. Probably lost in some mental mall. “And a comb!”

“I wouldn’t mind getting some gel,” Stan admitted, running a hand over his unruly curls. “S’how I used to wear it.”

Wendy tilted her head, considering his face. “I can see it. Like those guys in Grease.”

Stan snapped his fingers and pointed at her with a grin. “Exactly!”

“Let’s go to the mall!” Mabel shrieked, overcome with excitement. She shook Stan’s arm, moving her body more than his bicep and looking like she was being electrocuted as a result. Or like a fish flopping on the floor of his boat. “Mall Day! Mall Day!”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Stan groaned.

“Nope!” Mabel and Wendy wore identical expressions, like lionesses about to pounce on some poor, old zebra. Tambry offered a thumbs up from the other side of the booth wall. ____________________________________________________________

“This was a terrible idea.”

Now, Stan was no stranger to shopping with a teenage girl. He’d dated Carla McCorkle for a while before she was stolen away by that mind-controlling musician. He was quite familiar with wandering from store-to-store while a girl ooh-ed and ahh-ed over things without making a single purchase.

He hated customers who did that and he hated being part of a group that did that.

“Grunkle Stan, this is an essential part of shopping!” Mabel punctuated her statement with a pointed slurp of her iced coffee. De-caf, of course. She was already energetic enough.

He responded with a pointed sip of his own, secretly conceding that iced coffee was good. Especially all dolled up with fancy syrups and whipped cream.

Way too expensive, though.

“C’mon, man.” Wendy rolled her eyes fondly and threw the jacket she and Tambry had been fawning over at his face. “Chill out and leave everything to us. All you gotta do is put on what we tell you and say if you like it or not.”

“I was promised hair gel.” Stan muttered petulantly. He felt the soft lining of the jacket, an old-styled bomber like the one Ford had worn as a kid, and noted that it was soft. “Can’t I just pick some jeans and go?”

“Grunkle Stan, you need to learn about style!” Mabel exclaimed, stars in her eyes. “Now that you’re not a gross old man, this is the perfect opportunity to work on my ‘Convince Dipper To Wear More Than One Outfit’ powerpoint!”

Stan stared at her blankly. “What’s that got to do with dressin’ me up?”

“Because!” Mabel exclaimed exasperatedly. “You guys look a lot alike now! Once he sees how good you look, he’ll be inspired to do the same!”

“She has a point.” Wendy shrugged. “You’ve had more women hitting on you these past few weeks than you’ve had my entire life.”

“You’re totally hot.” Tambry confirmed flatly, briefly moving her phone away from her face to show them some kind of website. There were a lot of pictures of him and it made his skin crawl. So did the comments, most filled with the little picture things from Mabel’s ‘motivational sticker pack’.

“Ugh!” Stan shuddered at the girl’s comment and threw his hands up defensively. “I― I don’t even know what to do with all that. It’s… It’s weird.”

His eyes darted around in search of an escape route and he bolted out the door with the jacket in tow. He liked it, but he’d never admit it. Or pay for it.

Stan yanked the tags off, casually dropping them in a nearby trashcan before shrugging the jacket on. Ooooh, it had nice big pockets. Perfect for shoplifting!

“Well, if it isn’t Stanley Pines.”

Stan stiffened at the voice behind him, mind racing as he tried to place it. 

Don’t panic, you’ve been introducing yourself as Stanley the Second for weeks! This is just the con beginning to pay off…

He turned, a conman’s smile curling his lip, before a shocked scream left him.

“My eyes! My poor eyes!”

It was improbable. It was impossible! It had been forty years!

But against all the odds, there was a familiar face from Glass Shard Beach in Gravity Falls.

Old Man Nicky stared at him, his expression as sour and unimpressed as ever, another generation’s worth of wrinkles making him look like a particularly grumpy bulldog. He was still wearing the same old red sweater over a gray tracksuit, thin wisps of white hair peeking out from beneath a black beanie.

It really was his old boxing coach. Really old boxing coach.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Stan asked before he could stop himself. A cane shot out and clocked him in the shin, making him yelp and topple over. Ugh, just like the old days.

“Shouldn’t you? Your ma told me you crashed your car into a ditch and burnt up. Guess you just got mixed up in some freaky magic shit out here. Probably somethin’ ta do with that brother of yours.”

Stan winced at the relatively spot-on observation, rubbing his leg as he looked up at Nicky. The man had shrunk over the years, but he never lost the ability to make Stan feel like some scrawny little kid.

“What’re you doin’ in Gravity Falls of all places?” he asked, not bothering with how the man knew about magic. You couldn’t live here without tripping over a gnome every other Tuesday.

“Got myself a grandson who married a selkie. Their kids like the cold and I’m mostly retired. Thought I’d spend the rest of my twilight years with them.” Nicky shrugged before piercing Stan with a stern look. “Thought about lookin’ ya up, but you were too busy runnin’ around and pretendin’ t’ be Stanford. You’re a bum, Stannie. Your impersonations suck.”

Stan straightened up with a frown, properly offended now.

“I’ll have you know,” he sniffed, tucking his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at the old man. His gruff voice smoothed into something more sophisticated and refined, the Jersey accent melting away like butter beneath a summer sun. “That I still do a fantastic impersonation of my brother… Hypothesis! Quantum physics! Exponential!”

Nicky chuckled at him, wrinkled face sagging as it softened fondly.

“That’s our Stanford.” he sighed, turning away. “Now, c’mon back to the gym and fill me in on what happened. Y’not doin’ this without good reason. Yous two hated being mixed up.”

Stan hesitated, looking over his shoulder for the girls. They were a few stores back and a few bags heavier, their eyes scanning the mall in search of him.

“I’ll have to raincheck ya on that, old man.” he hurried to say, voice returning to normal and pitched low. Secretive. “I got a couple of add-ons who aren’t exactly in on it. They can’t know.”

Nicky frowned at him, tilting his head so he could squint at the girls as they approached. Mabel had spotted them, her face lighting up as she rushed forward with a grin.

“Well,” Nicky chuckled as she caught up to them. “This one looks just like you. Braces ‘n all. She box any?”

“Grunkle Stan’s gonna teach me and my brother!” Mabel proclaimed proudly before blinking in confusion at the old man. She shrugged and offered Nicky her hand. “Hi, I’m Mabel! Are you one of my uncle’s old man friends?”

“More like his uncle.” Nicky clasped her hand gently. “You can call me Papa Nick.”

“Okay!” Mabel agreed before Stan could protest.

“Oh, c’mon old man!” he huffed. “You never let me call you Uncle Nick!”

The old man smacked him with the cane again. “That’s cause you’re a bum, Stannie. ‘Sides ― Filbrick woulda had kittens if he caught you boys goin’ soft on me.”

“Wait, you knew Grunkle Stan as a kid?!” Mabel gushed, her hands squishing her cheeks. “Oh Em Gee ― you’re like, super old! Do you have pictures of baby Stan?!”

“Course I do!” Nicky snorted. “And all’a his old trophies. Tell ya what ― yous guys come for dinner and I’ll dig ‘em out.”

“Nicky!” Stan hissed, panic seizing his chest.

The old man bopped him with the cane once more, gently this time.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid.” Nicky gave him a pointed look. “I’ll keep all your embarrassing secrets in storage. For now.”

Stan held his gaze a moment longer, praying that the old man would keep his word, before nodding stiffly.

“Fine. Where’re ya stayin’ these days?”

Nicky smirked, smug with victory, and shoved a business card into Stan’s hand.

“Six o’clock. Come to the back door and don’t be late or you’re washin’ towels.”

“I don’t work for you anymore, old man!” Stan shouted after him as he and Mabel rejoined the rest of the girls. “I ain’t washin’ nothin’!”

Nicky just laughed at him and continued on his way. ___________________________________________________________

“What happened to you, kid?” Stan asked in bewilderment as Dipper trudged into the house, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.

The boy sighed and flopped down on the floor by Stan’s armchair.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” the boy mumbled into the carpet.

“Good.” Stan said awkwardly, trying to think of a subject change to get out of another ‘feelings’ talk.

“It’s just these half-man, half-bull humanoids were hanging out with me…” Dipper blurted out suddenly, shooting up with an annoyed expression.

“Here we go.” Stan rolled his eyes. He frowned as the boy’s words reached his brain. “Wait, you talkin’ about those dumb Manotaurs? Those guys are jerks!”

“I know, right?!” Dipper threw his hands up, relieved to have another person on his side. “They wanted me to do this really tough, horrible thing ― but it just wasn’t right. So, I said no.”

The boy deflated, looking as lost as Stan felt after spending too long reading his brother’s journals.

Stan reached down, easily knocking Dipper’s hat off, and ruffled the boy’s tangled curls.

“You were your own man and you stood up for yourself.” he said firmly. Dipper looked up at him in surprise. Stan grinned at him. “You did what was right even though no one agreed with you. Sounds pretty manly to me, but whadda I know?”

Dipper smiled at him, regaining some of the life that he’d lost during his all-day workout. His brows raised as he took in Stan’s new jeans and T-shirt, the outfit capped off by his new bomber jacket.

“Hey, you look good. I like your jacket. And you finally got hair gel?”

“Thanks.” Stan thumbed the collar of his jacket, remembering the one Ford had worn when they were kids. Which, now that he was thinking about it…

“How’s about you go get ready?” Stan nudged the boy with his foot, toes digging into Dipper’s ribs and making him giggle. “We’re headin’ to a friend of mine’s for dinner and you stink.”

Dipper’s face fell. “Do we really have time for me to shower? I― I mean, is it really necessary?”

“Yep.” Stan said firmly, nudging the boy again. “Go ― use soap this time.”

The boy groaned dramatically, but headed upstairs anyway.

He could hear Mabel in the attic, singing along to some pop song at the top of her lungs. Once he heard the shower cut on, Stan bolted for the vending machine.

It was risky as hell, but he’d done worse lately.

All of Ford’s old things that might have given away his identity were stored in the basement. Six-fingered gloves, old home movies and pictures ― they all lived in boxes in the observation room. Along with a trunk of keepsakes that Ma had sent after Pa died and the pawnshop closed. She’d moved in with Shermie those last few years before her death and wanted ‘Stanford’ to have all of the twins’ old things. Probably in hopes he’d use them with a son of his own one day.

And in the trunk, there was a little old jacket with patched elbows that had seen the boys through many an adventure.

Ford’s bomber jacket.

Stan lifted it out of the trunk reverently, like one would a precious artifact. It was soft beneath his fingers, the fabric worn and the fur lining a bit matted. The elbow patches were fraying and it smelled of mothballs and old books.

He buried his face in the lining with a sniffle, wondering why he and Ford had ever drifted apart in the first place.

Stan knew he was a screw-up, but he still had no idea what he’d done to make Ford want to move across the country to get away from him.

“When did you stop liking me, Poindexter?” he sighed, tucking the jacket beneath his arm. He checked the security cameras before heading back upstairs. He’d had plenty of time to get the jacket and hide it in his room before Dipper and Mabel were ready for dinner.

No worries.

____________________________________________________________

“Uh, did you just see that, dude?” Soos whispered to Wendy, his eyes wide with shock.

“Secret door to a secret basement in the Mystery Shack?” Wendy confirmed, her normally cool facade beginning to crack. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Good to know.”

[urmumsfan]

haileigh made me do this.

a 100 questions thing , not gonna do a npt but anyone can join

1. what is your middle name ?

— don’t have one

2. how old are you ?

— 14

3. when is your birthday ?

— august 31st

4. what’s your zodiac sign ?

— virgo but idc for zodiac signs

5. what is your favourite colour ?

— purple

6. what’s your lucky number ?

— 69

7. do you have any pets ?

— never had any

8. where are you from ?

— ukraine , born and raised

9. how tall are you ?

— 5’’3 *people screaming in the background*

10. what shoe size are you ?

— eu 36 , according to google us 5.5

11. how many pairs of shoes do you own ?

— about 6 , would spend all my money on shoes if i could

12. what was your last dream about ?

— do i look like i know literally what

13. what talents do you have

— being cool

14. are psychic in any way ?

— no & i don’t rlly believe in that shit

15. favourite song ?

— me and your mama by childish gambino

16. favourite movie ?

— spider-man : across the spiderverse (can u tell ??)

17. who would be your ideal partner ?

— wouldn’t u like to know , weather boy ( @canisusmajor )

18. do you want children ?

— no , but we’ll see

19. do you want a church wedding ?

— will decide that with my partner lmao

20. are you religious ?

— yes

21. have you ever been to a hospital ?

— rarely but yes , nothing too serious

22. have you ever got in trouble with the law ?

— no

23. have you ever met any celebrities ?

— no fuck you

24. baths or showers ?

— showers fs

25. what colour socks are you wearing ?

— white always

26. have you ever been famous ?

— no not particularly

27. would you like to be a big celebrity ?

— famous no , rich yes

28. what type of music do you like

— mostly rap , hip-hop , r&b , but in general anything as long as it’s good

29. have you ever been skinny dipping ?

— no ts lowkey weird

30. how many pillows do you sleep with ?

— with 1 rn but i lowkey wanna have a full bed of pillows. i’m too particular about how i like them tho

31. what position do you usually sleep in ?

— arm under the pillow , blanket up to my face , and all curled up underneath

32. how big is your house ?

— idk average

33. what do you typically have for breakfast ?

— don’t like breakfast

34. have you ever fired a gun ?

— i’m not allowed anywhere near guns or y’all are fucked

35. have you ever tried archery ?

— no but i really fucking want to

36. favourite clean word ?

— not sure what that means but sprinkle

37. favourite swear word ?

— єбать but generally all the ukrainian ones

38. what’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep ?

— idk i don’t count , probably like 4-5 days

39. do you have any scars ?

— yes on my knee

40. have you ever had a secret admirer ?

— does anyone asides from movies

41. are you a good liar ?

— yes i’d like to think so

42. are you a good judge of character ?

— i am good at judging people idk what u want

43. can you do any other accents besides your own ?

— idk i can do british and american i think

44. do you have a strong accent ?

— not in my day to day speech , only if i relax the muscles in my face

45. what is your favourite accent ?

— any vile accent , like scottich or cockney . very neat

46. what is your personality type ?

— my mbti is stfu (istj)

47. what is your most expensive piece of clothing ?

— if shoes count probably like 250€ ? not a fan of expensive clothes tho

48. can you curl your tongue ?

— unfortunately no

49. are you an innie or an outtie ?

— ok i think i understood the question wrong the first time. an innie

50. left or right handed ?

— right

51. are you scared of spiders ?

— not really

52. favourite food ?

— chips (french fries) i guess

53. favourite foreign food ?

— noodles ??

54. are you a clean or a messy person ?

— a messy organized perfectionist . don’t ask

55. most used phrase ?

— any your mum joke

56. most used word ?

— fucking

57. how long does it take for you to get ready ?

— min 20 minutes , max an hour

58. do you have much of an ego ?

— too much , some would say

59. do you suck or bite lollipops

— bite always

60. do you talk to yourself ?

— all the time but not out loud

61. do you sing to yourself ?

— sometimes i guess

62. are you a good singer ?

— no but also no idea

63. biggest fear ?

— unpredictability

64. are you a gossip ?

— yes.

65. best dramatic movie you’ve ever seen ?

— idk i don’t really watch that

66. do you like short or long hair ?

— on me medium , on other people idc

67. can you name of 50 states of america ?

— america doesn’t exist

68. favourite school subject ?

— english cause it’s easy , computer science and algebra are ok

69. extrovert or introvert ?

— pervert

70. have you ever been scuba diving ?

— no

71. what makes you nervous ?

— life

72. are you scared of the dark

— no but i can’t see so what am i supposed to do

73. do you correct people when they make mistakes ?

— yes

74. are you ticklish ?

— yes but don’t tell anyone that’s not very nonchalant of me

75. have you ever started a rumour ?

— no i don’t think

76. have you ever been in a position of authority ?

— yes

77. have you ever drank underage ?

— yes

78. have you ever done drugs ?

— no

79. who was your first ever crush ?

— zendaya

80. how many piercings do you have

— three on each ear

81. can you roll your R’s ?

— what does that even mean ………. ok i looked it up i think that’s what we do in my language ??

82. how fast can you type ?

— type fast and incorrect

83. how fast can you run ?

— how do i ever measure that shit what

84. what colour is your hair ?

— dark brown

85. what colour are your eyes ?

— dark brown

86. what are you allergic to ?

— no food allergues but i get hay fever all the time

87. do you keep a journal ?

— fuck no

88. what do your parents do ?

— dad’s like a head of economic department across different companies ?? mum is a stay at home mum

89. do you like your age ?

— what

90. what makes you angry ?

— everything pmo

91. do you like your own name ?

— yes

92. have you already thought of baby names , if so what are they ?

— no i haven’t

93. do you want a boy or a girl for a child ?

— said before i don’t really want children , but hypothetically idc

94. what are your strengths ?

— everything

95. what are your weaknesses ?

— scared of any change

96. how did you get your name ?

— parents just liked the name , they don’t know how either

97. were your ancestors royalty ?

— no pretty sure not

98. do you have any scars ?

— yes on my knee

99. colour of your bedspread ?

— navy blue

100. colour of your room ?

— white

[zeroseuniverse]

Under The Mistletoe

WC: 573 Warnings: none Pairing: Woozi X Fem Reader

Navigation

Dating Lee Jihoon was probably the oddest experience she had ever encountered, it was almost seasonal, at every holiday he’d be extra clingy, this could be because it was really his only time off. Or it could be because he knew holidays were a tough time for his lover, all she knew was it was physically impossible to tell where he started and she ended when he got in his moods. The fluffy haired man loved the holidays secretly, the joy thrumming in the air always put him in a good mood, and his mood was always infectious.

So as his lover moved around the kitchen, he was a step behind almost as if they were dancing together without touching, left foot, right foot, reach and bend. Every move, he followed like a moth to a flame. She found his actions endearing, especially when he kept trying to reach into the batter of her cake she was making. 

“Ji, you can’t keep eating all of the batter, what am I supposed to feed your members if you eat it all?” She wondered, Jihoon pouted remembering that his members were coming over for a dinner to celebrate their year together.

“Dirt.”

“Jihoon!” She scolded, earning a snicker from the man, nudging his head off of her shoulder, making him look at her incredulously.

“Yah!”

“Yah yourself, stop eating everything or you’ll sit on the couch.” 

And he was sent to the couch…especially after Mingyu arrived and tried helping in the kitchen only to get glared at by Jihoon for 5 minutes straight until he got whacked with a spoon. 

“Why isn’t Woozi helping cook?” DK wondered as he walked into the oddly silent room with Seungkwan, feeling Jihoon pouting at his back. 

“Because he was giving Mingyu and I dirty looks.” She hummed, moving to stir the noodles in the pot before her.

“And why is that?” Seungkwan wondered, taking a seat next to Woozi.

“Because he’s in one of his clingy moods and he can’t risk his reputation by hugging me in front of you guys.” She giggled, knowing it wasn’t the full truth, it had nothing to do with his reputation and everything to do with his own feelings towards PDA. 

“Awh Hyung, go ahead and love on her.” Seungkwan giggled, nudging the elder only to earn a half-hearted glare from his hyung. 

As more people flowed into the house, the attention shifted from the couple, allowing Woozi the perfect opportunity to sneak off after his lover into the kitchen. 

“Yes, My Love?” She chuckled not even looking up from her task to see who followed her into the kitchen, Jiho0n smiled victoriously as he approached her, grabbing her waist and spinning her to face him, catching sight of her surprised face, which grew into utter shock when he place a delicate kiss on her lips and nuzzled his nose against hers to follow.

“What was that for?” she hummed, reaching her arms up over his shoulders to play with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“When we meet under the mistletoe, You’re supposed to kiss.” He grinned, pointing above them, and when her eyes followed she found a horribly made paper mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

“Ya know I think Mingyu and I stood under it earlier….”She teased, making him glare at her, earning a loud giggle, both blissfully unaware of the 12 pairs of eyes watching them.