#pizza place pondering

[pizzabox-box]

Pizzatober Day 18, RABBIT DESSERT

[becca4leafclover]

Specifically pizza places I went to when I lived in Italy- those 3 years hold such a special place in my memories, of the best and the worst times of my life. It was the times I was depressed and lonely, it was where I had a genuine community that the rest of American society strips from you. There were legitimate violent threats that were a part of daily life and yet I played Pokemon Trainers on the playground at recess.

I just thought, "hey, what if I base this resturaunt off of our favorite pizza place there?" But our isn't just me or my family- it was us, and four other American families, all with the parents and kids ranging from high school to preschool, who'd go to this place every Friday and usually end up with spontaneous sleepovers being planned over games of Uno (the kids) and Cards Against Humanity (the adults) on a humid summer evening in Naples, Italy

I... really didn't expect, when I checked the menu website, to still be able to read the Italian ingredients as easily as I did. I don't remember much of my Italian, it being faded out for German when I lived there after, or the 5 years I've lived back in America from then.

There was a pizza that one of us ordered so often it got added to the menu: Pizza Pat. That was the first thing that hit me when I read the menu- it was still there. Mozzarella di buffola, pomodorini e salami piccante: buffalo mozzarella (local from the water buffalo raised on the volcanic soil in the area, the LITERAL BEST MOZZARELLA YOU COULD EVER HAVE), cherry tomatoes halved and salami shredded on top. Under the appetizers, there was zeppolini and speedy pollo! Speedy pollo was a local thing for fried chicken sticks- think chicken nuggets but in the form of cheese sticks.

And zeppolini? Zeppolini is my actual favorite food- that I haven't had in over a decade. Fried sour dough made with sparkling water and dried seaweed, rolled in sea salt. Simple, but no other place I've been to serves it like that. Apparently zeppolini normally is a sweet breakfast pastry?? So my mom and I have done various experiments over the years to recreate it, but still haven't perfected it.

When I went on Google Images looking for photos of the roadside resturaunt, instead I found the other local pizza place- they were the ones actually known for the speedy pollo! And I remember going there with my dad the time that we had to evacuate because the mafia planted a cell phone bomb at the car wash outside our neighborhood (a story for another time) and we went there to get everyone pizza as we were stuck outside all day.

And just... I didn't think to ever just- GOOGLE these things before now? And seeing these places feels like reminding myself that it was real. My entire childhood, an American kid growing up overseas with a million different experiences, who spent 10 of 16 years in Europe before moving back to America, that hasn't met someone who's gone outside the country in so so many years now... I didn't realize how lonely it feels to talk about my childhood and have absolutely no one understand what you're saying around you. I have to dumb down the words (it's a parco, not just a "neighborhood!" Two totally different vibes!) or explain a concept (the amount of times people are flabbergasted by why the shopkeepers left and came back during riposo is kind of insane.) And on the flip side, I still feel like I'm the American in the conversation when talking to my friends from other countries, that I haven't experienced ENOUGH of these other cultures to really have a say in it.

Damn, they were right when they said being a military kid made you different. I got the double imposter syndrome, alienation, distrust of the government, and a serious case of hiraeth. And I still wouldn't trade it for a different life, to be honest. I just wish it didn't always hurt so much to know I'm always going to be different.

feeling weirdly emotional about pizza places!

[thebunnylord]

Why am I getting a Pizza Hut commercial right before a “My 600 pound life” episode on YouTube?

[hurtspideyparker]

The team learns about Peter's stress baking fairly quickly after he moves into the tower.

"Why does this place smell like cookies?" Tony asks suspiciously, "Pepper put an end to homemade care packages after that Cap incident."

Steve protests from the dining table. "Hey, that fan seemed totally normal. Y'know in my generation you do not mess with baked goods, that's sacred."

Natasha pats his back comfortingly as she joins the conversation.

"They came from the kid. They're actually pretty good, here."

Nat hands a still-warm cookie to Tony, who bites it curiously.

"Damn, it melts in my mouth like buttery ambrosia and still has a perfect crunch around the edges. Is that a nutty aftertaste?"

"Yes!" Peter yells from the other room, a clatter sounding before his head pokes around the wall, oven mitts still attached to his hands.

"I brown the butter, it really deepens the flavour!"

"Good on you kid. What's the occasion?"

Peter stutters, "uhhhh, no occasion. I just like cookies!"

He disappears around the corner again, and Tony sends a confused glance towards his teammates.

Steve shrugs his shoulders, mouth still full of cookie, and Natasha sends him an arched brow. Tony isn't sure what that means, but feels intimidated enough to exit the room anyway.

* * *

The baking lasts the rest of the week, until Peter comes home yelling, "I aced my calculus midterm!!!" running out of the elevator with a stapled set of papers in his hand.

"So no more baking?" Nat asks neutrally.

"Nope! Woohoo!"

Just like that the kid is gone, jumping down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tony looks at Nat quizzically.

"It was midterm week. He baked 3 dozen cookies, 2 types of muffins, and a cheesecake."

"So he stress bakes?"

"He stress bakes."

* * *

It becomes a "thing" in the tower.

Sam eats toast from freshly baked bread one morning while watching Bruce quiz Peter on his upcoming AP history test. Each slice is cut, toasted, and buttered to perfection by Peter while he explains sectionalism in the 20th century.

* * *

Bucky grates carrots while Peter mixes a bowl of dry ingredients furiously, the boy mumbling to himself non-stop.

"Has he gone insane?" Clint asks from the doorway.

"Spanish oral exam," Bucky replies.

"Ay caramba."

"Tal vez pueda sobornar a mi maestra con glaseado de queso crema..." Peter starts mumbling. (Maybe I can bribe my teacher with cream cheese frosting...)

Bucky and Clint share a concerned look.

Clint approaches the boy, "put down the spatula Pete, let's talk about this."

Peter looks up in alarm.

"In English! Just English!"

* * *

"What's up kid? It's spring break, what could you possibly be stressing about."

Today Tony walks into a full kitchen; Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper are occupying the space while Peter pours something creamy into a metal bowl.

"He's asking MJ out tonight, so he's making cookies and cream ice cream in case it goes wrong." Natasha crosses her arms when she replies to him, eyes focused on Peter's mixing.

"Does ice cream even count as stress baking? The very meaning of 'bake' is to put under heat. But I suppose it does feel wrong to call it cooking."

Peter looks up, his brown eyes large and sad like a baby cow, "I still baked the cookies from scratch."

"Yeah he's a real Nara Smith!" Wanda adds enthusiastically.

"Oookay... I'll pretend I know what that means. And since when do we have an ice cream maker?" Tony points to the fancy hardware out on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, I got that for him. We lacked a lot of the tools for basic baking recipes," Pepper informs him.

Tony ponders how ice cream machines count as a basic baking tool, and decides not to argue with three powerful women and their favourite lovesick teenager.

Peter picks up his bowl and moves it into the freezer, clearing away a couple frozen pizzas and a bag of peas.

"Should I even bother with the cones?" Peter asks with a pout.

"Pete she's gonna say yes! Also if you're wallowing in misery with a tub of ice cream we still want our cones so we can emotionally support you with a crunchy treat," Wanda says with a supportive smile.

The others nod along.

"You're right!" Peter agrees before turning around and grabbing an honest-to-god waffle cone maker, with the cone shaping kit to boot.

"Why..." Tony begins to protest, "y'know what, I don't care. Let me know how it goes kid."

The man is ignored as he moves through the kitchen to grab a banana, the women coaching Peter on his manners, flirting, and first date ideas as he exits the room.

* * *

Thor hums around the delicious treat.

"Mmm. You know young Peter, you could have a shop for your creations. Is there a Stark Industries for baked goods?" Thor asks the young lad, crumbs falling from his mouth as he chews the cookie bar.

"I didn't invent the blondie Thor. I was just trying to explain what it is, a cookie brownie! I did decorate them all by myself though," he says with a satisfied grin.

"Ah yes," Thor lifts up another blondie by the pretzel stick Peter put in the squares, attached with a bit of melted chocolate so they're shaped like Mjolnir, "now you are all worthy of the hammer. Ha! This is funny, I'm sure the others will find your talents equally amusing."

Peter picks up his own mini-Mjolnjr and waves it around, "it is I, son of Odin. Don't worry puny Midgardians, I will protect you with my mighty hammer and beautiful hair!"

Thor laughs thunderously at the impression, clapping.

Bruce walks into the room, enticed by the laughter.

"Ah! My friend, Peter has made edible Mjolnirs so you, too, may be worthy. It's delicious and hilarious. Imagine Banner wielding my hammer, ha! Ridiculous," Thor is all too amused by the situation.

Bruce gives Peter an offended look as Thor continues laughing with himself, the younger just shrugging. Bruce takes one of the treats anyways, pointedly not holding it by the pretzel stick.

"Y'know Pete, have you ever considered opening a bakery? You are quite talented. I think the Avengers alone would keep you in business," Bruce asks politely.

"Well I only like to bake when I'm stressed. That wouldn't be a very stable business model," Peter points out.

"True. Although running a business can be quite stressful, so maybe you'd have a continuous supply?"

"Hm. Efficient and unhealthy," Peter nods like it's the perfect plan.

"Wow you really are Stark's intern."

Thor bursts out into another bout of raucous laughter.

"Imagine Stark wielding my dessert hammer," Thor barely gets the words out, "Stark being worthy-AH HAHA."

Bruce and Peter share a look of wide-eyed alarm before joining in on the laughter.

They all share the moment before Bruce straightens up a bit to ask, "what are you even worried about anyways Peter?"

Peter wipes a tear from his eye, "I forgot to call Aunt May this morning like I always do and she only let me move here if I promised I wouldn't neglect her. So now I'm too scared to check my phone."

"I see," Bruce sympathizes.

"Yeah, baking is good for procrastinating. I pretend I'm being productive while also creating comfort food for after my breakdowns."

* * *

Tony steps into the dining room one afternoon to find Peter slicing apples while Steve sits across from him cutting intricate patterns into pie crust. There is an array of leaves and flowers set out on the flour-sprinkled table.

"So is the ornamentation necessary, or is Cap also developing a delicious self-soothing habit," Tony inquires.

"I was just talking to Peter about pie recipes from the 40s and he asked if I could help make his prettier," Steve smiles up at his companions, "it's actually a lot of fun, I can't say I've ever used food to make art before."

"He's a natural talent Mr. Stark!"

Tony agrees with the quirk of an eyebrow and cheeky sideways nod. He observes for a moment before asking something that's been bothering him recently.

"Pete, I gotta ask. Why baking? You inherited your Aunt's terrible cooking skills, and it's not like you're built for other domestic duties. Your room is a mess. What gives? How are you so... refined?"

Peter pauses his chopping to look up incredulously.

"It's science Mr. Stark. Baking is just chemistry! I'm great at chemistry," he says with a grin.

Tony thinks about it.

"Huh. I guess you're right. So, what has you stressed this time? Girl troubles? You get too good a grade in P.E. and Flash is suspicious? Decathlon competition?" Tony lists off some of his previous turmoils.

He hopes it's the decathalon again, those butter tarts were divine.

"Um. Can I finish my apple filling before I tell you? I'll lose motivation if you start yelling at me..." Peter says with a hopeful smile, strain lying underneath it.

Tony's eyes narrow.

"Okay so I maybe blew up your test tubes when trying to develop fire webs and Dum-E may have covered your entire lab in fire supression foam."

Tony's jaw clenches, "I'm gonna let you stew in fear for a bit longer because apple is my favourite - if this was pumpkin you'd already be squashed - but best believe I'm not done with you yet." Tony slowly takes a deep breath before pointing a finger at Peter. "Never change kid, never change."

Tony leaves, distinctly in the opposite direction of his lab, and Peter goes back to slicing apples, now with a genuine smile on his face.

[dalliesque]

Mr. Nice Guy, Fresh Guy

𐙚 sypnosis let me introduce myself, nice guy, fresh guy of the night (alright) everybody tells you better watch out girl.

꒰ png flirty!HAN TAESAN x fem!reader , fluff , neighbours to lovers , coworkers to lovers , mutual pinning , flirty taesan , lower case intended . cw petnames. wc 890 words, proofread ꒱

yu notes : oh no i think i have the taesan brainrot �� shout out to @sanaxo-o for proofreading this, without her this would actually flop 😵‍💫 thank you sm hon <33

𐙚 Wednesday

“let me (re)introduce myself, nice guy, fresh guy of the neighbourhood.” taesan raises his eyebrows in a flirty manner, his hands sliding through his hair in a slick motion before leaning once more on the fence separating his and your front-yard. you hold in a chuckle, nodding. as you glance his way, soon looking away, your focus still solely on the plants in your yard, badly needing your care after being left for so long by the previous owner.

“so..” taesan continues, clicking his tongue watching you curiously. “you free this weekend? you know since i helped you and all” hearing this, your head snaps towards his direction not believing the words escaping his mouth. taesan simply shoots you a wink, and you can't help but to chuckle. your head returning to it's original position, fixed on the plants.

thinking about it, his words were true. he did help you with stuff (moving things around to your new house, since he's strong and all;) and what's the hurt in repaying the favour and let him take you out? wait.. is this a date? “i can make time for you.” you reply to his words, which did take a bit longer than it's supposed to be. a shit eating grin slowly appears in taesan's face. so shitty you can feel it from the back of your head actually, “i can feel your stupid grin from here” you roll your eyes playfully, looking back at him spraying a bit of water his way.

taesan laughs as he dodges the water you're spraying mercilessly towards him. “is this your way to repay my deeds?”—”no but it would be if our hang out isn't a date” “oh.” taesan stops dodging the water fully just standing there while staring right at your eyes. a little smirk on his face. oh how bad you want to wipe it away from his stupidly handsome face. taesan lets out a chuckle, about to jump over the fence. “i'll spray you with the jet if you get any closer!!”—”fine!!”

𐙚 Thursday

“can you rate how excited are you for the date from 9 to 10?” taesan appears behind you, whispering close to you. his warm breath tickles your ear, sending shivers down to your spine making you almost jolt out in surprise. “a hello would be nice??!”—”hello” you roll your eyes, sighing as you shake your head in disbelief. what the hell is he doing in the ladies locker room? “what are you doing here? it's the ladies lock—” you pause, oh there's no such thing as a ladies locker here. a smirk grows on taesan face, leaning in on the lockers.

“this is not the changing room babe” you scrunch your nose looking away, feeling heat from your neck slowly going up your cheeks from the embarrassment. oh how you wish to just dissappear under a big rock. “don't call me that.” you utter, going back to your locker to continue arranging your stuff. “oh sorry, i was just warming up. who knows i'll use it often in the future” your whole face is crimson red by now, forcing you to exit the shared locker room “hey wait you haven't rate the date yet!” “it's still in two days!!” “well should we do it now?”

𐙚 Friday

“one more day.” taesan teasingly whispers, his voice entering your ear gently and swiftly exiting the place as if nothing had happened. as if he didn't relentlessly tease you today, and as if his words wouldn't bother you the whole day and of course not forgetting the playful wink he'd send you before going out through the door. this is really bad for your heart. it's the second day of your shift here on the pizza store, but you're already pondering whether to quit or not. he really knows your weak spots. you thank the universe for making him work in the delivery rather than cashier or anything else involving being close to you 24/7. cause you would definitely would not survive.

𐙚 D-DAY(TE)

taesan rests his head on the palm of his hand looking at you intently as you twirl the pasta around your fork nervously. “look at my eyes” you give him a quick glance before holding in your laugh, looking back at your plate. “stop looking at me that way!”—“with these sexy eyes of mine?” you roll your eyes playfully still not looking his way. “oh come on just give in my shawty”—“shut up!!” taesan let out a small ‘ouch’ when you nudge his legs with your own under the table. he soon laughs holding his hand up in surrender. “atleast you're looking at my eyes now.”

you smile, okay, maybe his eyes are... what's the word? sexy? no, not that, but whatever the way to describe his shining, shimmering eyes, you wouldn't be able to say it out loud. it would obviously bruise your ego. “swooned by the nice guy's charm?” taesan raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile overcoming his lips. yeah, that's it his eyes are charming, and yes, you probably did get swooned by the ‘nice guy's charm.’

2024 ©️ dalliesque

striked cannot be tagged !!

@ :: @gyuvinreblog , @hyunhanie , @keii-starz , @starryriize , @eun-luv , @bambisnc , @intakstars , @enhacolor

@yochubi

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 2. - Thigh riding / teasing.

bbf! Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Thigh riding + teasing + age gap. (+18)

Word count. 2k

Summary. You hate your brother's best friend. Yeah, the one you are hooking up with.

Kinktober masterlist.

Jake Lockley was an idiot.

The biggest idiot you'd ever met.

He was an idiot when he yelled and clapped in your house as if it were his own because his favorite soccer team had scored a goal, he was an idiot when he put his foot in front of you as you walked pass by him as if he were going to make you trip, and he was idiot when he opened your fridge like he was part of the family.

He was an idiot when he slipped out of your brother's sight to bury his stupid fingers inside of you until you trembled, he was an idiot when he walked behind you groping against your ass on purpose, he was an idiot when he pushed you against the wall to devour your lips like a hungry man and he was definitely an idiot when he wished you goodnight with his beautiful smile before leaving.

But he was a bigger and dumber idiot when he pretended that all of this wasn't happening, and that for him, you were just his best friend's silly little sister.

You had heard him the night before, claiming that he had a date with someone 'hot' (his own words), one of those stunning blondes you see on TV according to your brother, so after understanding the message clearly, you decided that you wanted nothing to do with Jake Lockley anymore.

Although you had said that the last four times.

You were all furrowed brows and pouts without even realizing it. The third time he smiled at you, and all you could muster was a roll of your eyes, he started to worry.

He never liked making you mad. Or at least, not this seriously, because he definitely enjoyed pushing your buttons until you pushed him and your voice got all squeaky when you said, 'Enough, Jake!'

But ignoring him? That was a level he never wanted to reach.

When your brother left the apartment with the excuse of getting pizza for the three of you, he knew it was time to try.

He was sitting on the couch, his legs slightly apart, his back against the backrest, with one of his arms raised over it. It was a good view, but you were stronger than this. You glanced at him for about three seconds as you walked to the kitchen, in a way that seemed so quick that it almost appeared accidental.

"¿Princesa?" He questioned out loud, and you nearly dropped your glass.

Stupid, stupid Jake Lockley.

You didn't respond.

"Hermosa." he cooed again. The only response he got was the sound of ice clinking against the glass.

You took a sip, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

"You know if you don't come, I'm going to come get you, right?" Oh yes, you forgot how irritating he could be when he set his mind to it.

You planted your feet in place.

"I'm going to count to three." Oh no. "Uno."

You looked towards the door. You weren't a little kid; these things didn't work on you.

"Dos."

Besides, Jake wasn't your boss to order you around like this.

"Uno y medio."

You set your glass down and, as if your legs were on autopilot, you spun on your heel and walked out of the kitchen, earning an immediate smile from him.

Not a mocking one, not an annoying one, he actually seemed relieved to have a bit of your attention.

"Ah, there you are."

You stood still without saying anything, unsure of what to do.

"Come here." He patted his lap as an invitation.

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering for a few seconds if it was worth it to lose your dignity like this. You also glanced towards the door, trying to calculate how much time you had before your brother arrived.

In the end, as always, you obeyed. You went over to him and sat sideways on one of his legs.

"No-oh," he shook his head, looking at you from his position, not touching you yet. "Face me." You had to get up again to turn around, his leg nestled between yours as you took your seat again, facing him.

Even if you didn't want to notice it, it was impossible not to feel that delicious pressure against your cunt. And as if by magic Jake brought both hands to your hips, pressing them with his fingers as if you were going to escape his grip.

"What's wrong, huh?" He leaned in just a little to meet your gaze. You hated that there wasn't a hint of teasing in his expression; he genuinely seemed concerned as you crossed your arms and furrowed your brow.

Why were guys so dense? And stupid.

When you didn't respond, a small smile crept onto his face. He made you jump slightly on his thigh as he moved his leg, and a little gasp escaped you. His hands slowly traveled from your hips to your waist.

"You’ve been all grumpy and stuff since I got here, what’s wrong?"

"You should ask your supermodel date."

Ah, bingo. His smile widened.

"She's not a model."

"I don't care what she is."

"Actually, she is..." "I don't want to talk about her." "She's imaginary."

You looked back at him with a furrowed brow after a few seconds. Did he expect you to believe that?

"Ah?"

"She doesn't exist."

"I know what imaginary means."

"Are you sure? I can spell it out for you if you want."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're jealous." His fingers resumed tracing your sides, deciding that your hips would indeed be their resting place. "And you're acting like a brat."

Your expression softened just a bit, but you still wouldn't look at him.

"Look at me while I'm talking to you." His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in just slightly to seek your gaze.

Nothing made you want to scream until you collapsed a lung more than how stupidly handsome Jake Lockley was. His lips seemed like an eternal invitation to kiss him until you got tired, his chocolate eyes that seemed to dilate when they settled on you, and that one stubborn curl he always fought with, the one that fell onto his forehead for you to move out of the way.

You had joked before, asking him if he wasn't secretly Clark Kent.

Your body responded automatically, leaning in to seek his lips, but he pulled back with a smile.

"Do you think you deserve it after the way you treated me?" His voice was sultry, smooth.

"You're the one talking about other girls." You whispered back with a cute pout on your lips. "Please."

"Please that?"

“Please let me kiss you.”

“Nope.”

Your pout grew bigger as his fingers gave you a squeeze. You didn't understand where he was going until he started guiding your movements, a slow back-and-forth sway that brought a gasp from your throat.

He wasn't going to tell you out loud that he wasn't going to agree to a make out session that threatened to leave him with a boner when your brother arrived.

“I don't like it when you ignore me, princesa.” This time it was him who granted you a pout, his leg lifting a little higher as if he wanted to bury it between yours.

The pressure was stronger and you felt how your juices were beginning to moisten the fabric of his jeans. Your hands were placed over his on your hips and you rested your feet on the floor to have better control over your movements.

Back and forth, slowly.

"Sorry." You whispered breathlessly, your eyes boring into his as he enjoyed the blush on your cheeks.

Jake knew how to play, but you were always a good opponent.

You closed your eyes while biting your bottom lip as you pretended to ride his leg. He could only imagine how delicious it would be to just take you there on the couch.

With your hands on his, you slowly guided them up your body, rising them to your breasts.

You made him squeeze your tits and a louder moan came out of your throat.

“Fuck.” You whispered as the pace of your hips increased. The friction of the fabric of your panties against Jake's pants created a delicious heat in your already sensitive little pussy.

You knew without looking that your skin would already be red.

“That's how you like it, princesa?” He whispered, his gaze fixed on you as if you were a work of art.

Your lips were parted for mostly, except for when you bit the bottom one from time to time to allow yourself to hiss, your cheeks flushed and your eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed now for a completely different reason than a few minutes ago.

“Look at you, so wet and desperate for me.” His thumbs delicately traced your nipples over the fabric of your dress, they were now noticeable because of how hard he had made them. “You miss me fucking you with my fingers, don't you, mi amor? That’s why you’ve been acting like such a bitch to me.”

Stupid Jake Lockley with his stupid voice with his stupid accent and his stupid way of making you go crazy.

You nodded submissively, your body leaning forward until you could rest your forehead against his. Being able to look at your begging eyes closer was something he would thank you for later.

“W-Why…” You stammered, taking a deep breath. “Did you invent a girlfriend?”

He chuckled. You couldn't leave the subject alone, could you?

“Because everyone is asking questions about it.” He kissed your lips briefly, almost making you beg for more. “For my parents, I am now single forever.”

This time you laughed. The rhythm of your pace didn't stop and you were both so close to one another that Jake felt the touch of your tongue when you licked your lips.

“That can be solv… A-Ah, Jake. Mhm, s-shit.”

Your little hole started to clench around nothing, you were so close you could feel your entire body tense, Jake's hands working on your boobs in the way he knew you liked.

He was so obsessed with pleasing you that you hadn't even gone to the next level, he had promised himself to do it until he perfectly memorized the things that drove your body crazy.

“Are you close, princesa?” He was staring at you, he was craving watching you cum. “Are you going to give it to me?”

You nodded awkwardly, the couch squeaking with the clumsy and desperate way you moved. Your skin was beginning to tingle, a growing heat pooling on the bottom of your abdomen, you were about to make a mess on Jake's leg.

Until of course, a pair of keys clanged against the door.

He pushed you, you stood up as quickly as you could, pulling the hem of your dress to accommodate it, still dizzy from the pleasure and how abruptly it stopped. Your vision was blurry and your chest rose and fell rapidly trying to stabilize your breathing.

"Pizza." Was the only thing your brother said as he dropped his keys to the side, lifting the two boxes in his hand.

Jake covered the wet spot on his pants by placing a pillow on his lap.

“Is she bothering you, Lockley?” He joked, giving you a push that almost sent you to the ground. Not exactly because of the force, but because you were still with your legs nailed to the ground, pressing your thighs together to seek some relief.

“Not at all, she's the one who has to deal with me.” He muttered with that same darn smile on his face.

When your brother walked into the kitchen and the two of you were alone, even if it was just for a few seconds, he looked at you and you looked back at him.

“I'll go to your room in a few hours.” He whispered, nibbling on his bottom lip with what you could identify as eagerness.

You nodded, turning on your own two feet to head to the kitchen as well, biting your bottom lip too, trying to hide your smile.

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet

Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' the Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her. 

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears. 

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch. 

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue. 

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?” 

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place  …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone. 

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch. 

“Of course. Call me?” 

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone. 

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars. 

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name. 

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?” 

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now.  You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn. 

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon? 

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of almost three years, years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues. 

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.” 

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you. 

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.” 

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you. 

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters. 

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her. 

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look. 

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake. 

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you were hiding away from everyone in her bedroom when she found you. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth. 

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time. 

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce. 

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?” 

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought. 

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself. 

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth. 

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied. 

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second. 

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?” 

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking. 

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too. 

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her. 

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still at those,” you told her in a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness. 

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again. 

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie. 

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud. 

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?” 

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming. 

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl. 

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.” 

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.” 

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon. 

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this. 

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter. 

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone. 

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm. 

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso. 

“Okay, come on.” 

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down. 

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning. 

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.” 

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped. 

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.  

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?” 

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two. 

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you. 

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!”  Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table. 

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said. 

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?” 

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family  move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.” 

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her. 

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say. 

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.” 

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky. 

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself. 

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?” 

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded. 

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone. 

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet. 

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something! 

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face. 

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words.  It suddenly became awkwardly quiet. 

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening. 

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested. 

“I don’t have to look to know. I've known you for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.” 

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

 It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out. 

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion. 

 The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal. 

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?” 

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect. 

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.” 

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now. 

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions. 

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her. 

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out. 

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin. 

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun. 

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!” 

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice. 

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?” 

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change. 

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

[seattlesellie]

could you make bff!ellie catching you masturbating and says something like ”i can help you if youd like” bc you couldnt climax when you do it yourself

caught ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

an: pretty self explanatory. nsfw, mdni please. part one of two!

yet another droplet of salty—sweet sweat fell on your top lip. you couldn’t get there, couldn’t you? no matter how hard you tried, no matter how hard you rutted against the fabric, the position your pillow was in— folded, to the side, with the tip; you just couldn’t do it. you couldn’t cum.

a pitiful whine fell from your lips. should an unfamiliar passerby chance upon the scene, they might have assumed that you were tormented, in agony.

the bittersweet twist in your stomach was truly just a tease. almost there, almost, in a fleeting moment— vanished into thin air.

would it be wrong to say that you looked absolutely pathetic? it probably wouldn’t be, it would be nothing but the truth. with your panties hung loose around your ankles, your toes curling inside of your soft white socks, your body feverishly oscillating back and forth, then sideways, tracing circles— and then just straight up humping, it was sad.

“oh— please, please!” you mewled, better yet, cried out.

perchance, you could get there if you pulled your erect nipples, if you pinched them just right, that tormenting tension would finally dissipate. you hastily took your pajama tank top off and threw it on the floor. you pulled on the swollen buds, twisted them slightly, only to elicit a shrill cry that escaped your lips.

“mmph— god!”

you were supposed to meet ellie at 4:30pm. or was it 4:15? 4:20? you wouldn’t know. the clock was ticking, and there you were, grinding yourself helplessly against your soft pillow. tick—tock.

it’s 4:13.

4:14:

ellie knocked on your apartment door. once, then twice, and finally she pressed the buzzer. she was starving, her mouth salivating, and the scent coming from the pizza box wasn’t helping in the slightest.

she buzzed it again, and to her dismay, no answer.

“ugh, cmon” she huffed, knocking forcefully again.

what were you doing? in the bathroom? showering? you must be busy somehow, with your earphones in, maybe?

you said 4:15pm. she wasn’t very forgetful, especially when it came to you.

biting down on her bottom lip, ellie remembered there’s a spare key conveniently tucked beneath the brown “welcome!” carpet. she knows this because you told her, when she walked you home, tipsy and giggling after a night out.

“right” she mumbled, balancing the large pizza box on her left hand. she bent down, and she was right. she remembered correctly— a spare key. as ellie swung open the door, she was greeted by an empty living room.

“hello?”

she paced around. maybe you were hiding underneath the kitchen table? pulling a prank on her? you goof.

“pizzas here…” she melodically chimed.

“and i'm… here too”

she pondered the possibility of someone having broken into your apartment and kidnapping you. could that be?

ugh, ellie. quit being so dramatic.

ellie placed the pizza box right on the kitchen counter, and began walking towards your room. maybe you were napping, that sounds like a much nicer thought. when the image of you cuddled up inside a fuzzy blanket popped into her mind, she chuckled. cute.

oh how terribly wrong she was.

you pressed against your pillow, causing the bed to emit two distinct squeaks.

ellie's head swiftly turned to the side, her steps growing closer and closer to your room. so you didn’t get kidnapped... you’re in there. jumping on the bed, perhaps?

as a high-pitched whimper escaped your lips, reaching her ears as if tethered by an invisible string, her heart sank. she was dangerously close to the wooden door now.

her breath caught in her throat. you were fucking somebody.

it was muffled, but the bed creaking and the whiney sob? her head was spinning in circles, palms itching and sweaty. not only did you completely forget about your plans, you were in there— letting someone fuck you. she didn’t even know you were seeing somebody. she didn’t even know you were doing that shit and that sweet, blissful moan? she dug crescent marks onto her palms as she clenched them tightly.

it was wrong. it was painfully wrong and creepy and perverted, but ellie had to see. she had to know who you were letting inside your bed, but she wasn’t about to interrupt. all she did, was twist the doorknob carefully, the door opening far enough for her to see, but still not enough for you to notice.

oh.

oh.

with your bare back on display, and your ass squished against the pillow— ellie felt like she was going to faint. your sweet, frustrated moans filled the room and ellie blinked so many times she was having a sensory overload.

this has to be a dream, she thought. one of her crazy ones, the only ones she doesn’t tell you about. her throat felt dry, and she had to swallow hard. ellie took a shaky breath in, and she nearly groaned. you were desperate, she swore she could see a sweet droplet of sweat flowing down your back.

ellie’s first instinct was shutting the door and leaving.

for the first time in her life, ellie didn’t listen to her instincts. she stood there, mouth agape, toes curling inside of her chucks.

“pleasepleaseplease, unggh—“ that little moan was so high pitched and sweet and ellie felt dizzy, faint, awestruck. she dug her trimmed fingernails right into her jeans covered thigh and pinched. this is a dream, ellie— wake up.

“oh god!”

wake up, ellie.

you got down on your elbows, and you dragged your aching clit all over the pillow. the bed squeaked again. she could see everything, the swollen button, your tight hole and your ass—

wake up, ellie.

“fuck” she huffed, and you still couldn’t hear a thing, too busy and too in trance, poorly trying to get yourself off.

when you humped the pillow again— ellie’s own clit pumped. like a faint heartbeat, she felt a dull ache growing and growing.

she stood there; dizzy, disgusting, turned on, like a peeping tom.

she should leave. she has to leave. why can’t she leave? her feet are glued to the floor and she can’t walk, paralyzed.

she could walk out of here and pretend it never happened. she could go home, rub one out, rub it again till it hurts and then see you the next day. this could be normal, she could be normal about this, can’t she?

“fuck!” you gave up. you weren’t getting there, this wasn’t happening today. you weren’t going to cum and you had to deal with it. slowly, you steadied your breath and grabbed your phone. it was 16:24, where is she? you decided to text her.

“when are u coming over? i’m starving”

ellie’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she nearly choked. there she was, frozen, staring.

thankfully, you didn’t hear it. in fact, you couldn’t hear anything— your ears were still pumping.

ellie swiftly took her phone out of her pocket and noticed her hands were shaking, it nearly slipped out of her grip. she shouldn’t answer. she should pretend that she had forgotten, she was napping, at the gym, working on something, god knows what. she shouldn’t answer.

but she did.

“give me 20 minutes, was at the gym”

you chuckled, and when you went to scratch your chin with your shoulder, ellie thought you were turning around and she nearly collapsed.

“lol u renewed your membership?”

oh shit. she cancelled it last month. her jeans felt too tight and her face was on fire and now she had to lie, again.

“yeah”

even as she typed— she couldn’t look away. your ass was on full display and it was something she had to burn into her memory. she would never see you like this ever again.

“i don’t believe you”

oh fuck.

“send proof ellie… need to know ur not just lying and hanging out with toxic stacy again”

is it possible that she completely forgot who you were talking about? was she that delirious?

“omg wrong name lol 🩷 i meant samantha”

oh, her.

is samantha’s pussy this pretty?

oh, she’s sick.

you giggled and adjusted yourself on the pillow again. when you laid completely down, ellie’s eyes rolled back.

“i’m at the gym… not lying, weirdo”

you sighed, and ellie heard it. the fact that she could hear every single one of your reactions to her texts made her cringe but it also made her feel something she’s never felt before.

“send a gym selfie then”

you weren’t intentionally flirting. it was purely innocent on your part, just that. you needed to know she wasn’t lying. why did her stomach flip?

she knew she had to have one. she knew she had to have at least one picture of her at the gym. she must have sent something back then, maybe to cat. cat loved her blurry gym pictures, the ones she sent her with the bottom of her tank-top in between her teeth and her toned abs on full display. she found it— after two whole minutes of aimless searching and scrolling. just what she thought, her abs, slightly sweaty and glistening, her thin happy trail, and her boxers peaking out from her sweats. she sent it so fast and she didn’t even think—

you stared at your screen. fully stared. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, why did she… that picture was… suggestive. your best friend is a weirdo and she’s also making your tummy feel like it’s being swarmed by angry bees.

“i believe u now :) see you in 20!”

ellie felt like punching herself in the face, but before she did, before she closed the door and got the hell out of there— you did something that was so unfathomable, she nearly went cross eyed. with ellie’s picture flashing on your phone, you began grinding again. the moan that fell from your lips was guttural, ravenous.

this wouldn’t even be the first time, wouldn’t it? getting off to the thought of your best friend?

this time, when the pillow met your clit again, you were wet and slimy and you seamlessly glided onto the plush fabric. you knew, deep down, that you could get there this time. if you were looking at her, at her sculpted abs with her shirt in her mouth you could actually cum. you didn't even bother thinking about it, about how wrong it is. she would never know, so what's the big deal?

this time— ellie has to wake herself up somehow. this was the sign, the only one that helped her make sure she knew that she was absolutely dreaming.

if this was, in fact, a dream— ellie would coo at you. she would walk over, ever so slowly, lift you up, help you get off of the pillow, and hold your hand. "poor thing, need my help?" when you'd nod, shed guide your body up and down and teach you just the right moves. shed take you by the waist and help you slide, suck on your nipples and look at you. occasionally— she would stop on her nibbling to mutter "all you needed to do was ask me, pretty girl"

but this isn't a dream. ellie knows this isn't a dream because she checked the time on her phone and a minute had passed and she knows it doesn't work like that in the dream realm.

would it be wrong if she slipped her hands right into her pants?

"please, ellie"

you moaned her name like you were ashamed. like you knew she was right there and she could hear you. what would you do if she was?

when ellie heard the whine of her name slip out of your mouth, her phone dropped down to the floor and hit it with a thud. for ellie, it sounded louder than a brick.

you turned around fast, you thought a vase had fallen. when you caught her gaze, because ellie couldn't. fucking. move— you weren't embarrassed. you were too mortified to be embarrassed, you screeched and you didn't speak. neither did ellie.

your lips were trembling and her hands were sweating profusely. you've never seen her look like this, she's never seen you look like this. she opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but she didn't. she stood, frozen.

you don't know when you managed to grab the blanket and wrap it around your body but you did.

she opened up her mouth again, but only a soft "ah" noise escaped from it.

"when d—did you..."

"just now" she lied.

"and you stood there f—for..." you stuttered. now, the embarrassment finally hit.

"i saw" ellie managed to speak, somehow.

she saw?

"w—what?

"i saw"

what did she see? your heart was beating fast. you’ve never felt this vulnerable, this exposed. what did she see?

you couldn’t speak. you wouldn’t dare. embarrassed, not able to make any eye contact with the green eyed girl, you stared at the floor.

“i think…” she stepped closer to you, and she kept her gaze on the floor as well.

“i can…”

another step. closer now, dangerously so.

your entire body trembled.

she looked up at you, finally.

“help”

[2hightocare]

LOVE WAGER! 02

Synopsis: The concept of love resurfaces as you both agree to center your psychology project on the premise that love is a choice. You propose an intriguing idea to Jungkook: he must exert every effort to make you fall in love with him within a month, to back up his belief.

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. angst/romantic comedy.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, neglectful parents, mentions of depression, banter, cussing, ex girlfriends, flashbacks, jungkook low key being super mean and discarding people’s feelings, jungkook hard-key depressed, implications of sex.

a/n: hai… this is so long overdue— exams month is coming and I had the biggest writers block fr but here’s my beloved babies. Song of the chapter— “love is embarrassing” by Olivia Rodrigo.

prev chapter! series masterlist!

Love.

Love is an intricate subject in its own right. Scientists elucidate it through the interplay of three cerebral chemicals: noradrenaline, dopamine, and phenylethylamine.

That's how Jungkook perceived love. He didn't subscribe to the notion of butterflies in the stomach or the fluttering heartbeat as justifications for love. To him, love was a scientific phenomenon, a complex emotion akin to sadness or jealousy-if he could evade such feelings, he would spare no effort.

But why did his stomach churn as if his organs were performing tiny somersaults whenever he gazed at you a tad too long? You were engrossed in the menu, pondering whether to get a burger or a slice of pizza.

Seated beautifully in your loose red Formula One shirt, Jungkook couldn't fathom how you managed to make that oversized shirt look so good.

Jungkook's eyes dropped to the ribbon in your hair, wondering why someone who was a full-on adult looked pretty, adorable even-with a red ribbon tied into a beautiful bow contrasting your skin and eyes. Your long eyelashes entranced him. He felt his stomach do something, a turn? Maybe his stomach was upset-he thought to himself.

Jungkook couldn't believe he found himself willingly sharing a table with you at the same dinner two years ago, he almost killed you at. He had moved to Emberhill U two years ago, ever since he moved out from his mom's house. Jungkook's life had gone to hell, which is exactly what his mind would tell him ever since his mom got a boyfriend. To make matters worse, he now had step-siblings.

He hated every bit of it. He wasn't jealous whatsoever.

It was the fact that his mom seemed to forget he even existed in the first place. Jungkook was hurt. He tried not to dwell or cry about it since he was a big boy-that's what he told himself now, pushing twenty-two, but still, part of his already broken heart shattered more.

How could your mom forget about her child? How could she not care about her only flesh and blood? He never told her that ever. Talking about his feelings with his mom was like talking to a brick wall that nothing could pass through. Plus, Jungkook wasn't good at communicating or talking about his feelings anyway. He found it embarrassing to lay yourself out there for someone to be able to discard you at any given moment.

Jungkook's dad wasn't any different as wellbeing too busy with work to even call him to ask his son if he was okay or how school is going. But the calls or text messages never came. Jungkook was used to it. It was his everyday. It was more shocking when he did call, but he wouldn't know what that would feel like since he never called ever since the divorce. Jungkook knew the divorce wasn't his fault whatsoever. His therapist—that his high school counselor made him go to—basically talked his ear off about how anything that happened wasn't his fault, but still, it felt like it was.

Ever since everything went down, his parents seemed to forget they had a child, who still needed them.

One advantage of his situation was the freedom to do as he pleased without his parents' interference. However, the downside was their lack of concern for his activities or just him in general. Jungkook was certain: if his parents didn't love him, who else in the world would? So, he didn't believe in love. When the two people meant to demonstrate unconditional love failed to do so, he doubted anyone else would. He would like to say that it didn't affect him and it's been years since everything, but deep down it still did.

Jungkook experiences a pang of guilt every time he looks at you. Perhaps it's the way he behaved when he first met you, the influence of the romantic comedy in your hands causing him to lash out at you.

Something about your ribbons makes him feel that you’re too innocent and naive for this world—part of him wants to shield you from its harsh realities, while another part wants to disillusion you about the cruelty of the world and the disparity between love in fairy tales and reality.

"Are you done daydreaming?" You say, interrupting his thoughts. Jungkook shakes his head, attempting to banish his thoughts before raising an eyebrow at your curious doe eyes. "I wasn't daydreaming," he states proudly, prompting a scoff from you, a grin tugging at Jungkook's lips.

"It was either daydreaming or checking me out since you were staring at me for a hot minute, but I decided otherwise since you have a girlfriend," you quip nonchalantly before calling the waiter to take your order.

"First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, and second of all, what if I was checking you out?" Jungkook challenges. He didn’t know why he enjoyed getting on your nerves—any other person he would probably flip off and never give them the time of day, but instead, here he was with you doing the complete opposite.

"What happened to the girl from the dinner?" You question, your eyes finally meeting his brown ones. A glint of something passes over his eyes before disappearing as quickly as you saw it—so you thought maybe you had imagined it.

"Who?" Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side as he leans forward, his elbows propped on the table. "the one you mentioned to me two years ago? The one you discussed intimately," you mimic his voice. Jungkook's smile widens, amused by your jest.

"If you want to know so badly, we broke up—well, she broke up with me," Jungkook clicks his tongue, observing your expressions closely. He notices the creases of your forehead whenever you are thinking or the way you bite your lower lip to contain a smile that’s threatening to come out, each time Jungkook says something dumb.

"Oh, let me guess, she wanted love letters and sweet words whispered into her ear," you mock him, knowing he said that he didn’t need to do any of that to keep a girl. "You’re annoying, Ribbons," Jungkook shakes his head with a low soft chuckle.

You watch him pick up the menu and start scanning the items as you observe him. You notice how his jaw clenches momentarily before relaxing, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek, making you wonder if you angered him—and if you did, maybe you should do it more often since he looked hot—

Record scratch.

Your mind was playing games with you the more you watched the raven-haired boy. The more you realized he was the epitome of the boy you imagined whenever you were reading a book, the dimples on his cheeks, the scar right above his cheekbone, and the mole underneath his bottom lip had you wanting to ask him for his whole life story.

He also looks like those cute love song playlists that had all your favorite songs in them, but you knew from the way he acts around you, it was definitely a hard no and maybe you were delusional after all. So you try hard to shove those ideas into the back of your brain as far as you could.

"I knew that you couldn’t keep a girlfriend," you shrug, prompting a gasp from him as he jokingly places a hand on his heart, as if you had just dealt him a mortal blow.

"Wow, YN doesn’t think I’m boyfriend material?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, shaking his head.

"You’re literally everything that's not boyfriend material," you throw your head back with a laugh, observing his widened eyes with amusement evident on his face. "Ouch," Jungkook scoffs dramatically.

"What makes you say I’m not boyfriend material?" he says, scanning the room for a waiter but finding none, before redirecting his attention to you.

"You don’t believe in love, that's one way to start," you point out, eliciting a hum of agreement from him. "What's that got to do with being a good boyfriend? I assure you that a good boyfriend isn’t necessarily head over heels in love," Jungkook says, as if imparting a valuable lesson, while your facial expression betrays you.

"The fuck? You literally hate everything related to love. Being a good boyfriend means doing cliche shit you hate doing so much, how could you possibly be boyfriend material?" you assert proudly, prompting an eye-roll from him.

"All that stuff is just superficial shit that everyone collectively agreed on. It’s just embarrassing how people put themselves go through all that just to make someone lik—“

"Love," you interject, earning yourself a glare from across the table.

"Like I was saying, I stand by the fact all those stupid romantic gestures are pointless. Society basically romanticized love and set up unrealistic expectations— everything just leads to heartbreak and disappointment," Jungkook continues, you watch how the hard expression on his face wavers to something more… sad, like he was talking from experience.

"Have you ever experienced love?" you inquire, not sure why since you guys weren’t even friends in the first place—the only reason you found yourself sitting with him willingly was because of psychology class.

"What?" Jungkook is caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Have you ever been in love?" you reiterate, observing his expression harden once more. "No, never, and I don’t plan to," Jungkook shrugs, going back to his usual cocky self in a blink of an eye, prompting yet another eye-roll from you, marking thirty-eighth.

You didn’t get the chance to reply since a waiter came to your table, apologizing for taking so long to get to us before taking our orders.

You and Jungkook decided on sharing a pizza, and you obviously ordered a coke, which got Jungkook joking about how he isn’t trying to make you choke again, which had the waiter shifting uncomfortably beside you both while Jungkook had an eating-shit grin on his face.

“That’s not what he meant!” You chuckled nervously, your face reddening, matching your shirt from how embarrassed you are.

“No, it’s okay, you don't have to explain,” the waiter said before excusing himself.

The moment the waiter was out of your line of vision, you turned your head to the boy who’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck was that?” You glared, your eyebrows scrunching. “What, you both just have a dirty mind,” Jungkook shrugged, the grin on his face making you shift in your chair.

Jungkook's aura was unlike anything you’d ever stumbled upon, and you hated it. It made you want to know more about him than you should, the way he carried himself and talked had you questioning why? He wasn’t so different from other boys you had met, besides the fact that he spoke his mind as if no one was around, not caring if he hurt your feelings or offended you. It was refreshing in some way, but it still made you want to pull your hair out.

“Alright… let’s change topics, Mr. Anti-Romantic,” you say, watching his smile widen.

“What?” You stared at him, trying to think what could possibly make him smile that much. You were sure your face would hurt if you possibly smiled that much.

“Nothing, I just find it extremely hot when you call me that, it turns me on,” Jungkook said, leaning forward.

Okay, that’s not exactly what you were imagining him saying. Your eyes widened momentarily, feeling your heartbeat rise. The smile not leaving his face had you feeling hot, as if the room temperature suddenly increased.

“Uh… so, project,” you blinked rapidly.

“Yeah, project,” Jungkook agreed, smile still on his face as he saw your cheeks flush with a reddish color.

“So, any ideas about what our project can be about?” You said, grabbing the hair tie around your wrist and using it to make a ponytail, taking the ribbons out before tying your hair.

Two small strands fell from your face, tempting Jungkook's fingers to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He wanted to slap himself back to reality since he never in his life thought those thoughts, not even with Haneul, whom he dated for five months, setting a record. He still remembered the reason she gave him for breaking up. It was laughable.

“Jungkook, you don’t even look at me with love, and I know you said when we first met that it was only attraction, but I thought you would change over time the more we hung out,” Haneul whimpered, tears gathering around her eyes as Jungkook just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Because yes, he did tell her it was all attraction, and it’s still only attraction to this day for him.

“You don’t hold my hand or give me kisses, you don’t even give me flowers,” Haneul cried, her voice cracking with each word she said.

“I told you, I don’t do that stuff,” Jungkook said. He felt bad for her since he knew she deserved better, but he didn’t feel bad about not doing those things for her since he told her he wouldn’t and never would do them. And she agreed, so why was she crying about it now when she agreed to it five months ago?

“I know you did, but I thought you just… fuck, you haven’t even introduced me to your family,” a crack is heard from Jungkook's heart, but not for the girl in front of him crying her heart out, but for himself, because yeah, he had no family he could take a girl home to, since he had no home at all. He had a house, but it was as empty as he was.

“Haneul, I told you—“

“Yeah, that you will never do that! I get it, okay? I get it, but fuck, how can you not care? Do you not feel anything when it comes to me?” The girl wept more, which had Jungkook sighing.

“I like you, Haneul,” Jungkook replied. “I love you, Jungkook, can’t you tell…” she whispered, a choked sob leaving her lips as she looked up at the man who’s just standing in front of her like nothing.

“I’m sorry,” that's all Jungkook said… because what else could he say? It was either that or that he didn’t love her, but to not take it personally since he didn’t love anything?

So instead, he said the only thing he could muster without his voice cracking.

“Love,” Jungkook finally says, his statement catching you off guard, widening your eyes in surprise.

“Love? I thought you hated love,” you raise an eyebrow, perplexed by his sudden declaration.

“I do, but love is psychological. We can discuss how we, as humans, have the ability to choose whether we fall in love or not,” Jungkook articulates.

“That’s not how love works, Jungkook,” you retort, to which he responds with a disapproving nod. “It does, though,” Jungkook rebuts.

“It doesn’t. Love is not something we can choose and pick, it just happens,” you try to explain.

“You believe love just happens, but I disagree, respectfully,” Jungkook adds, causing you to tilt your head curiously, intrigued by his perspective. “I’ve held on for too long without being in love since I said I wouldn’t fall in love,” he concludes.

“That’s because you haven’t met anyone you actually want to try with… maybe you just haven’t met your soulmate,” you suggest, annoyance evident on Jungkook’s face the moment you mention the concept of soulmates.

“Soulmates don’t exist, ribbons,” Jungkook snickers.

“I beg to differ,” you cross your arms, adamant in your belief. “I don’t know what fantasy lovey-dovey world you live in, but soulmates are just made up,” Jungkook shrugs casually.

“Maybe you are right about the fact that you get to choose who you fall in love with since I know for a fact I would never fall in love with you,” you spitefully state.

Jungkook nods, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth that catches him off guard. Perhaps it was the fact that someone had just openly admitted they wouldn’t want to love him—reminding him of the kid he once was, desperately begging his parents to love him. But wasn’t this what he was trying to prove in the first place, that love was a choice? Then why did it hurt to hear you say those words out loud?

“Atta girl, finally got it huh,” Jungkook smirks, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest. “Alright then, if we did do that for our project, let’s say we argued that love is a choice and it doesn’t happen. How do we prove that?” you question.

Silence fills the table as you both brainstorm ideas, trying to back up this argument.

“I got it,” you say, as if a light bulb just appeared on top of your head. Jungkook nods, encouraging you to continue.

“What if we spend a month with you doing absolutely everything to make me fall in love with you? And I mean do all that cliché, romantic shit I love that you hate so much. Since I know for a fact that I choose not to fall in love with you, we can discuss how, even if a person does everything right, you still get to choose who you love,” you explain carefully, ensuring he understands your proposal.

“It’s a good idea for the project; we could use ourselves to illustrate how we pick and choose who we love, like you said,” you try to convince him, giving him the benefit of the doubt after he convinced you of his beliefs. You knew you would never fall for him, even if he did everything you ever read in books and saw in movies.

“We can call it the Love Wager,” you finish, scanning his face as he contemplates the idea.

Jungkook’s mind races, unsure if he likes the idea or absolutely hates it. On one hand, it could earn him a good grade, given the strong rationale behind it, using yourselves as an experiment to support your argument. But on the other hand, the thought of spending a month doing everything he had vocally despised for the past five years gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Alright then, the Love Wager operation starts,” Jungkook agrees instead, while you clap happily. “Oh my god yay, this might give me an A plus,” you celebrate, giggling as Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story; I just hate psychology,” you say, to which he nods in response.

“Well, we have a month together, so start explaining why you hate it so much,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, and before you could reply, the waiter hurriedly returns to your table, apologizing for the wait, mentioning the kitchen’s struggle with the influx of orders. But you keep your eyes on the boy in front of you, who looks at the waiter, reassuring him it’s okay.

The smell of fresh, hot pizza fills your nostrils as you finally snap out of your trance, looking down at the pizza the waiter is sliding onto the table, cautioning you both that it is extremely hot. The waiter continues to place all the food you ordered on the table before leaving with a bow.

“I’m starving, oh my god,” Jungkook moans as he picks up a slice of pizza and takes a bite, ignoring the steam.

“How is that not burning your tongue, oh my…” you begin to say, but you’re interrupted as you take a bite of your own slice, immediately regretting it as you burn your tongue. “Ah, ah, ha,” you drop the pizza onto your plate, sticking your tongue out and fanning your mouth with your hand. A small laugh escapes from Jungkook as you shoot him a snarky glare.

“He literally just told you it was hot, ribbons,” Jungkook says, grabbing a napkin from the container and reaching over to wipe some sauce off your lips and face. The fanning from your hand halts as you stare at his focused face, feeling yourself heat up again, but this time it’s not your mouth—it’s your cheeks.

“Why did you just do that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, as he sits back down properly. “I’m starting my boyfriend material journey, you know, since the project?” Jungkook says casually, taking another bite of pizza, watching you in surprise as you shockingly observe him not being fazed by the burning food in his mouth, chewing happily.

“Oh… we’re starting right now?” you gesture to the table between you both, indicating ‘right now’. “Yeah, we only have one month, let’s make it worth it,” he says, diving back into his food.

God, this month was definitely going to be a roller coaster.

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[sneakyparsnipslicer]

Held In Bondage

Steve turned the key in his front door, opened it, shut it behind him and locked it. He heaved a deep sigh of relief, finally, another work day done.

Amidst the amount of change going on in Steve's life recently, it was always good to get back to his new flat. He'd been there about a month now and whilst it wasn't quite looking like a home yet, at least it was his own space to get away from the world. Today had been a stressful day at work, but then retail often is. He'd been close to a panic attack but had managed to hold it together. He took off his coat, placing it on his coat stand and walked into his living room, flopping down on the sofa and looking at the ceiling and began to contemplate what to do with the evening.

Since moving out of his parents' home, he'd found he had a lot more freedom with his spare time, able to order takeaway without his mother scolding him on wasting his money, able to purchase things online without his father questioning him on what he'd got. It was heavenly. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through the apps, wondering where to order dinner from. Pizza Hut? Domino's? Failing that McDonald's was always cheaper. Whilst pondering food, he had a thought. Maybe he could order something other than food for the night, like a cute guy looking for a good night. He looked around and wondered about it. Why not? It was his home, it wasn't like he was bringing someone into his parents' house. Steve began to get excited at the idea and began searching dating apps. Hundreds of cute guys in his area! But eventually he decided to stop scrolling. What was he thinking? He'd never had sex before, it wasn't exactly something he'd ever been able to get any experience in. It was embarassing to think about it, but he was 30 and had never made it with a man let alone a woman. People told him he was sweet, but he'd never had the confidence to ask anyone out on a date. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a stupid idea. Not looking at the screen he locked his phone and decided to search his cupboards for some Pot Noodles.

After he'd prepared and eaten them, he heard a buzzing noise from in the hallway. He jumped at first, but realised it was the intercom. Probably one of the work friends coming to hang out with him. He hurried and picked up the receiver.

'Hello?' Steve asked.

'Hey, is this Steve?' asked a voice.

'Uh, yeah. Who's this?' he asked.

'Oh, you clicked on my Profile. Found your address and here I am!' the voice chuckled. Steve began to sweat, had he accidentally invited someone on one of the apps earlier without realising it?

'You gonna let me in?' asked the voice.

'Oh yeah, yeah sure. Come on up!' said Steve, pressing the button to unlock the door downstairs for the person. Steve hung up the receiver and began cursing himself.

'Why the fuck did you let them in?! You didn't even get a name! Shit!' he hissed through clenched teeth. He hurried through to his bathroom mirror, trying to smooth his hair over quickly, no time to change his clothes. His t-shirt and jeans would just have to do. He sprayed some deodrant over his body quick as he heard a knock at his door.

'Coming! Just a sec!' Steve shouted, looking at himself, taking a deep breath and nodding. He walked briskly through his hallway to his front door and swung it open.

Before him stood a person dressed from head to toe in a PVC bondage suit. Light shining off everything with gloves, boots, a mask. Not an inch of skin to be seen.

'Hey there man, nice to meet you!' said the guest, offering a hand to shake. Steve looked to it and shook it. The guest pulled him close to him and took a deep inhale.

'Mmm, Lynx Africa. Seems like someone sprayed in a hurry!' the guy chuckled, pulling back and slapping Steve heartily on the shoulder. Steve was lost for words.

'Well say something!' the guest insisted.

'You came over here dressed like that?' asked Steve, looking them up and down in surprise.

'Well sure it turns some heads, but it's kinda my deal' said the guest folding their arms, shrugging. Steve laughed nervously.

'So… do you have a name?' asked Steve.

'That all depends on you big man, what's your favourite name?' asked the guest.

'My favourite name?' asked Steve.

'Sure, like if you were getting railed what name would you want to be screaming?' asked the guest.

'Ben, I guess' said Steve.

'Ben, huh?' the guest asked.

'Yeah, I like the name Ben. Known plenty of Bens, they tend to be sweet guys' smiled Steve.

'Fair play then mate, call me Ben!' said the guest giving him two thumbs up.

'Alright, would you like to come in Ben?' asked Steve, beckoning to the front room.

'Thought you'd never ask Steve!' replied Ben, swaggering off down the hallway. Steve followed his guest. Ben looked around the front room.

'You been here long?' asked Ben.

'Only about a month' said Steve, chuckling.

'Figures. But at least you have a couch!' said Ben, walking over to the couch and sitting down, making himself at home.

'Umm, would you like a drink or something?' asked Steve, pointing to the fridge. Ben shook his head.

'Nah, I don't need to drink. Thanks for the offer. Come on and sit with me' said Ben, patting the seat next to him.

Steve gulped and made his way over to Ben. Sitting neatly beside him. Ben leaned in and put an arm over his shoulder.

'So, tell me about yourself Steve' said Ben, stroking Steve's shoulder.

'Aren't we meant to remain anonymous to eachother or something?' asked Steve.

'Well sure some people like to keep their private life secret. I like to get to know my clients so I can do my best. Go on and have a feel' said Ben, guiding Steve's hand to his chest. Steve could feel some very firm pecs under the bondage gear.

'Oh wow… do you work out?' asked Steve, turning to face him.

'Well I work some things alright!' chuckled Ben, moving his hand to stroke Steve's growing bulge. Steve began to laugh too.

'So are you a top or a bottom?' asked Ben, moving his hand to stroke Steve's thigh.

'Sorry?' asked Steve.

'When fucking. Do you like to fuck or be fucked?' asked Ben.

'Umm, actually I've never had sex before' said Steve looking away in embarassment.

'Untouched territory huh? That's ok' said Ben gently, placing his hand on Steve's jaw, moving his face to look back at him.

'It is?' asked Steve, trembling.

'Sure, every man has his first time at some point!' said Ben reassuringly. He held Steve's hand gently. Steve looked to the ceiling and exhaled, he wanted to cry from how embarassed he felt.

'Hey, hey come on mate. It's ok really!' said Ben stroking Steve's shoulders.

'Sorry, it's just you were probably expecting some nympho and you got The 30 Year Old Virgin' replied Steve. Ben giggled, but stopped shortly after.

'Steve, buddy. I know you must be feeling embarassed right now, but please try not to. I'm here to help you through it' said Ben, caressing Steve's cheek. Steve looked to Ben's mask, wondering what kind of beautiful man was behind it.

'Thanks Ben, I really appreciate you understanding' smiled Steve, at which Ben sharply nodded his head.

'Steve, do you trust me enough to make you a changed man?' asked Ben. Steve thought for a moment. Ben seemed willing enough to let him experiment, and he seemed friendly enough.

'Ok, I trust you Ben' smiled Steve.

'That's what I'm talking about Baby!' cried Ben, pulling Steve off the couch and into a tight embrace. Steve was enjoying the feeling of his chin against Ben's bondage-clad bosom.

'Well aren't you gonna cop a feel?' asked Ben, not letting Steve go.

'Cop what?' asked Steve.

'The bakery! I recommend the buns, they're nice!' insisted Ben. Steve understood what he meant and placed his hands on Ben's waist, sliding them down, he squeezed Ben's butt cheeks, firm and a lot to hold.

'Oh shit!' said Steve, surprised.

'Yes! An ass man after my own heart! Oh we're in for a good night!' laughed Ben, grabbing Steve's face and attempting to kiss him through the mask but wound up bumping him on the nose due to his mask's nozzle. The two looked at eachother for a moment, then burst out laughing. Steve was taken aback but he was loving Ben's energy. He took a moment to properly look at Ben, at how the suit was hugging his skin tightly, showing off his muscular build, his abs, his sharp jawline. He had everything Steve liked in a man.

'Are you ready to give this a go?' asked Ben. Steve nodded with a newfound confidence. He wanted to give Ben everything.

'Good, then I guess we should head to the bedroom. Giddy up!' laughed Ben, turning Steve around and smacking him on the ass. Steve began to laugh too and led the way.

On arriving in Steve's bedroom, Ben pushed Steve onto the bed and laid down on him, pinning him down. He took a good inhale of Steve's neck. Steve tried not to moan, this was so hot.

'Don't hold it in, moan if you've gotta' said Ben, grinding his crotch into Steve's. Steve held onto Ben's broad shoulders and began to gasp.

'Oh fuck yeah!' Steve moaned, biting his lower lip. He moved his hands to Ben's waist as he continued to gyrate him into the bed. Even fully clothed this felt amazing. Eventually Ben stopped and nodded.

'Alright, I'm ready' said Ben. Steve looked at him confused.

'I know you want to be inside me, I'm ready' said Ben. Steve wriggled out from under him and Ben proceeded to lay stomach down on the bed. Steve climbed back on and positioned himself over Ben's butt, excited to see who was under the plastic.

'I'll bet you're hot as fuck!' smiled Steve as he began to pull at the zip that started at Ben's neck and ended at his tailbone. Carefully zipping it down, the suit seemed to hiss. As the zipper slid further down, steam began to cloud out of the back, assailing Steve's senses. It felt warm and he could smell sweat and leather. He coughed and fanned the steam out of his face. Looking to the suit's opening expecting to see a man's back, there was nothing. The suit was hollow.

'What the hell?!' asked Steve aloud. The suit was completely empty, had he been tricked?

'Ben?!' asked Steve, looking around. He couldn't see anyone else in the room, just him and the suit.

'Maybe you should try it on!' Steve found himself thinking. He looked down at the suit and felt inside, it was warm and slippery, the texture did make him tingle a bit. He proceeded to remove his t-shirt, jeans, socks and boxers and pulled the bondage suit off the bed, climbing into it. Fitting the gloves, boots and mask on. Shortly after Steve felt a fresh wave of passion wash over him and he fell onto his bed. He gasped in surprise and then groaned. The suit was alive, he could feel it. It was squeezing and stretching him, kneading and pressing. At the same time he could feel something entering his ass, was the suit fucking him? Steve let out a scream of pleasure as the invisible force began to ride him.

'What - the - fuck - is - ha - ppe - ning?!' Steve yelled as he felt his body being compressed and moulded to fit the suit, edging closer to shooting his load.

'Just enjoy it Steve, it'll be ok!' said the suit in Ben's voice, continuing to thrust into him. Steve moaned and struggled to catch his breath.

'What does Ben look like to you Steve?' asked the suit. Steve closed his eyes and began to imagine a muscular man with dark hair and tattoos was fucking him, the kind of man he wanted to be fucked by. Steve smiled.

'Don't lose sight of him!' said the suit, continuing to fuck the cum out of Steve. He couldn't hold it back any longer and began ejaculating, crying out in pure pleasure. String after string as he imagined Ben's gorgeous face. Eventually the suit stopped and began to melt away, leaving Steve lying naked and sweaty on his bed. He turned over and groaned, aching.

'Fuck me, that was nice!' he said, wiping sweat off his forehead, chuckling. He looked at his hand, then his arm which he noticed was inked with patterns.

'Hold on…' he whispered, feeling his chest. Big pecs, abs, he looked down at his body. He gasped and hurried over to the mirror, being greeted by the man he'd just imagined, by… Ben!

'Is this… did I just become Ben?!' he asked. He felt his ass, big and firm. Yep, that was the same ass he'd felt not half an hour ago. And there was no denying his voice either.

'Oh shit! I'm Ben!' cried Ben, laughing.

'Or was Ben even real? Was I Ben all along? Did Ben and I become one person?' Ben asked. He looked to his bed, the suit had completely vanished leaving no trace of it ever having been there. The more he thought about it, the more he could only remember being Ben as far back as forever, filling his 20s with gym workouts and banging guys on the sly, moving out of his parents' place recently and working retail, spending some evenings as a PVC-clad sex maniac. Almost felt like two lives melded into one.

'Well whatever, gotta get some sleep. Work in the morning!' Ben chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. He turned his attention to a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor. The boxers read the name 'Steve'. Ben wondered who that could be. Couldn't say he knew many Steves. Must've been a client or something, probably a sweet guy. He must've left his stuff here.

'Ah well, if he needs his stuff he knows where I am!' Ben said, giving the t-shirt a sniff.

'Hmm, Lynx Africa. That's adorable!' he chuckled, smiling. Somehow it felt familiar.

[delulujuls]

crumbs | op81, ln4

hi! i hope you don't mind that i am serving another landoscar you can probably already tell how many comfort i am finding in the papayas

anyway please enjoy and feel free to send requests if you have any!

summary: y/n gained a little bit of weight and didn't get well with that

warnings: problems with eating, body dysmorphia

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

"I would eat pizza"

Y/N wrinkled her nose, hearing Lando's suggestion to her left.

"Pizza? You can afford more than that" she replied, eyes glued to the screen while browsing restaurant offers on her phone.

"Pizza is always a good option" he added, shrugging and looking at Oscar for support.

Piastri let out a sight and streched his legs.

"Pizza is a safe choice, I must admit"

"Seriously? You too?"

The girl looked up from her phone and glanced at the aussie sitting to her right.

The three friends were sitting outside the medics' room, waiting for their routine check-ups before the race. It was lunchtime and they were intensively pondering what to eat.

"I would love some Mexican, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea" Oscar said after a few minutes of thinking.

"It's a shitty idea if you ask me" Lando laughed at his own excellent joke and continued until he entered the room for tests, leaving his friends alone.

"I would go for sushi, but I know this big baby won't let me eat fish in his presence" Y/N said, referring to Lando's picky choices.

"How about a burger?"

Oscar asked, glancing at her phone and pointing to a restaurant. She handed her phone to him and they both started looking at the menu.

"It looks decent enough"

After Lando came out it was time for Oscar and then it was Y/N turn. She had her blood pressure, sugar, and blood test taken. Finally, it was time for her weight check. Without thinking too much she took off her shoes and stepped on the scale, straightening up and looking ahead.

"Are you before your period?"

The girl blinked a few times, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected question, but she shook her head.

"Two weeks ago before the race you were four kilos lighter"

She looked down at her body and was surprised by the number on the scale. At the nurse's request she repeated the measurement, but it remained the same.

"Is there a chance that it's a weight scale error?" Y/N asked as she put on her shoes.

The nurse shook her head and wrote down the results.

"Lando and Oscar's weights are the same as during the last measurements, so i guess it's not about the scale"

The girl felt embarrassed. Did that mean she had actually gained weight?

"Do you stick to your diet and training?"

"Yes, I'm trying as best as I can" she quickly nodded, but the woman still looked dissatisfied.

"I'll inform your coach and dietitian, but you need to have more self-discipline."

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze, feeling bad about herself. When she left the examination room, she noticed Lando and Oscar were still discussing where to eat that day.

"We thought burgers would be a good idea, but we changed the place, let us know if it suits you."

Oscar said, handing her the phone. She took it, but her appetite had completely left her, along with her good mood.

"I don't feel great after the blood test, so I'll pass on lunch today."

"We can eat later when you feel better" Lando suggested, glancing at her. Oscar agreed, nodding.

"No, you can go on your own."

"Then pick something for yourself, we'll get it for you to go."

Y/N handed back the phone and shook her head.

"No, there's no need. I need to rest for a while and I'll eat something later."

Her friends insisted for a while, but she remained adamant. When they lost the verbal battle with her, they both left the hotel together and she returned to her room. She immediately went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. She carefully observed herself from every angle, raising and lowering her shirt, sucking in and relaxing her stomach. She didn't think anything had changed in her appearance, but the longer she looked at her reflection, the less she was liking what she was seeing. She slipped her finger under her waistband, trying to remember if her pants had been looser at some point. She leaned closer to the mirror, examining her face. Were her cheeks perhaps less round?

The girl shook her head, left the bathroom and sat on the bed. So yes, it is a fact. She had gained weight, which didn't bode well, especially for her performance. Not wanting to succumb to negative emotions, she got up and changed quickly, wanting to start her training for the day earlier. She headed to the hotel gym, spending two hours doing cardio exercises which killed any appetite she had left and certainly any craving for food.

"I thought I was the only one who came here with such a big head start" her trainer joked, putting his bag with her training equipment on the floor. Seeing her sweaty and flushed from exertion, he furrowed his brow.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long, just warming up. We can start, im ready"

She replied, pretending not to have any trouble catching her breath. She wiped her face with a towel and took a sip of water. In reality, she had had enough.

After another two hours of intense exercise, Y/N had had even more than enough. If that was possible at all.

And that was how her days started to passing away, quickly turning into weeks. She spent more time on training than necessary, completely avoiding recovery time. She also avoided going out with Lando and Oscar, knowing it was better to avoid them than to come up with excuses for not ordering anything to eat and only drinking water with ice. But there were moments like this, when avoiding them was impossible.

After the pre-race conference, there was a big dinner from which Y/N couldn't escape. Everyone was milling around big swedish tables with their plates in hand, but she sat on the side, clutching a bottle of water. Suddenly, a plate of freshly prepared lasagna appeared in front of her. A few pieces of broccoli and a small portion of greek salad, her favorite, lay next to it. Lando and Oscar sat down in front of her, their plates also filled with delicious food. There was no way out of this, but she couldn't let herself be defeated.

"I took you some yummies, don't be grateful too much" Lando said and sat down, starting to eat. She forced a smile and held her fork, pushing the food around her plate. She took a knife in her other hand, starting to cut a piece into smaller portions while maintaining an active conversation with her friends. Her utensil movements were dynamic, she speared the food, waved it near her mouth. However, no piece eventually made it onto her tongue and not a single calorie disrupted her balance. Another great success.

Both Oscar and Lando easily sensed the change in her behavior. They had noticed it a while ago when she began to avoid them like the plague and when she was with them, she wasn't the person they used to know.

"We see what you're doing and you better stop that or at least tell us what's going on" Lando said firmly, setting aside his utensils. She looked at them, pretending to be surprised.

"You know what I'm talking about"

"I have no idea" she replied immedietaly.

"You haven't eaten anything even though your plate is full of your favs" Oscar pointed out.

"I just don't have an appetite, I ate earlier"

"You haven't eaten earlier, Y/N"

Oscar shook his head, looking at her with concern.

"You have no idea what I was doing earlier.

The girl said, shaking her head in irritation. What did it matter to them whether she ate or not? They had probably noticed she gained weight so they knew her results would be poor, which meant she would be worse than them. She wouldn't be worse than anyone.

"It's just that we don't know because you cut yourself off from us without a word"

"I didn't cut myself off from anyone"

"You stopped spending time with us, you don't talk to anyone and it's almost impossible to reach you so how you will call it other than cutting yourself off?"

Y/N snorted, shaking her head.

"This is absurd"

"We're just worried, that's all"

Lando said, not angry but genuinely concerned. And even if he was angry, it was only with himself for not knowing what was happening with his friend.

"No one has to worry about me"

She cut him off and stood up. She had no intention of listening to this nonsense but when she got up abruptly, her head spun and she staggered uncontrollably. Oscar caught her just in time and he exchanged a meaningful glance with Lando. They held the girl tightly and the three of them left the dinner.

Once they were outside, the cold night air somewhat cooled Y/N's unwarranted anger. Lando and Oscar were her friends, not enemies and none of them had ever made her feel like they had ill intentions.

"I feel weak" she finally admitted, squinting her eyes. After a moment, she felt something warm tickling her lips. Lando cursed when he saw a trickle of blood from her nose. He began frantically searching his pockets, but Oscar was faster and pressed a tissue to her nose.

"It's okay, just breathe"

Piastri said calmly, sitting her down on a bench. He laid her down, gently placing her head on his lap, telling Lando to lift her legs. He did what he was told, but he felt like he could faint at any moment himself.

The three of them sat in silence and Oscar and Lando from time to time were exchanging worried glances. They didn't want to press on Y/N too much. They knew her nature and that she had to open up to them on her own.

"I lied" the girl said quietly after few minutes of silence, so quietly that Oscar and Lando thought it was just the whistle of the wind.

"I didn't eat anything today. Yesterday, too and the day before either"

"You haven't eaten anything for three days?" Lando asked, looking at her with concern. She weakly nodded.

"Why?"

"I gained weight"

"Who told you that you gained weight?"

Lando asked, frowning his brows. He was ready to throw hands with anyone who let his friend down.

"It came out during the check. I gained weight, which shouldn't have happened"

"And that's why you stopped eating? Completely?"

"I shouldn't eat"

She admitted, still pressing the tissue against her nose. She felt her eyes filling with tears. She hated being weak, but that was exactly what she was in that moment. Just weak.

"You should eat, you need to eat," Oscar said, wiping away the tears that escaped her eyelids "Everyone needs to eat"

"Not me"

"Everyone deserves to enjoy delicious food, especially you"

"It would be better for me if there was no food in the world"

"You're being silly" Piastri said, gently caressing her cheek. She opened her eyelids and immediately met a pair of big brown eyes, looking at her calmly.

"We'll take you to your room, you'll rest. One of us will bring you something good to eat and you can have it in peace without any weird glances. Okay?"

She nodded weakly, not being able to continue this fight. Shortly after that all three of them were in her bedroom. They sat on the bed, each of them having a paper plate with something to eat. Oscar and Lando were already quite full, but they wanted to show their support to their friend, so each of them took a large piece of cake.

Y/N looked hesitantly at her meal, her nervous gaze shifting between her friends.

"This is safe food, good ingredients. Your stomach will thank you for it" Lando assured her, smiling encouragingly.

She nodded and slowly started eating. Lando and Oscar joined her, and they ate in silence. No unnecessary comments, no lectures. Just the comfort offered by friends. And nothing tasted better than that.

[shhhsupertopsecret]

Really? - Peter Parker

an: Short little fic. I write with comics Peter in mind, but you are free to imagine him however you want ;)

wc: 688

Peter Parker is screwed. So screwed. Peter was no stranger to mistakes. His life was a comical accumulation of a series of unfortunate events. One of his finest to date has got to be kissing his best friend before absconding out of the house and eating shit on his way out. He barely managed an ‘Oh my god, I am so sorry’ before he completely abandoned his friend and probably terminated an almost two decade  long friendship. He hadn’t seen you since…more like he had been avoiding you since.

Peter was pacing around his room, writing and rewriting the lengthy apology text he would send you. Well, he would send it to you eventually. His pondering was interrupted by the ‘ding’ of his phone notification. He threw his phone on to his bed like it burned him. This was embarrassing. He was studying biophysics. He was an Avenger (sometimes)! This was a continuation in the saga of Peter Parker nuking his personal life. 

Peter commenced his walk of shame across his studio apartment and picked up his poor phone. It took him three deep breaths before he could physically get himself to open his messages. He looked at your contact photo, a candid of you that he took when you were out at your usual pizza place. Your eyes were screwed shut in laughter, your nose crinkling. You were bathed in red light from the neon open sign next to you. It was his absolute favorite picture. Fuck. He opened your message. Four words.

‘We have to talk.’

“We have to talk”, you flopped down onto Peter’s bed, making the rusty spring creak underneath you. 

“So, you’ve mentioned.” Peter shot for sarcastic, but he was more focused on not throwing up and crying. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Peter. Will you at least look at me?” You tilted your head and angled towards him. 

“I am looking at you.” Peter was actually pointedly looking at the ceiling. Every time he tried to pull his gaze from where it was firmly locked on the ceiling, his stomach would do a quintuple flip. 

”Peter, you haven’t looked at me all day.” He hears the bed creak again, indicating you have risen from your spot on his bed. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist. You pulled him from his spot near the door. You give him a small push onto his bed. He sighed, fully obscuring his face with his hands. You gently grab his wrist and pull one of the hands away. He drops the other in defeat. 

“There he is.” You smile brightly at him, a smile he felt undeserving of based on his recent conduct. 

“I am not going to let you pretend that…that it didn’t happen. Will you please talk to me?” He was never any good at saying no to you. So he verbally vomited.

”I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. And I understand if you never want to talk to me again. I am so so so-” You cut him off by clamping a hand over his mouth. Your eyes were so fond that eye contact burned.

“It’s my turn, ok.” He nodded and you retracted your hand. 

“It’s okay. I want you to kiss me again.” The fact that you were completely calm made him even more nervous.

“What!?” He couldn’t have possibly heard that correctly. You laughed at his utter confusion.

“For fuck’s sake, Peter.” Your hands came up to cradle the sides of his face. With admittedly very little patience, you slammed your lips into his. He momentarily froze. Then, you felt arms wrap around your waist and pull you close. He finally relaxed, sighing through his nose before you separated. He was a little dumbfounded. Feeling your lips against his put him in a stupor. 

“I like you too, you dork. You didn’t let me say that.” You grazed your thumb along his bottom lip. He stared at you owlishly. 

“Really? You’re sure?” Laughter spilled from your lips. 

“Yes, Peter. I am sure.” He paused in thought. 

“Could I kiss you again?” You giggled once more and pressed your lips to his.  

[steve-faglan]

Breaking and Entering

Reader x Steve Raglan/ William Afton

TW: NON CON, NON CON, NON CON!!!

Summary: You and your best friend, Mike decide to break into the old Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Restaurant to get high and explore the relics of your youth. It's all well and good until you realize you're not the only ones in the building.

PART TWO: HERE❤️

William Afton was widely known to be involved in the disappearance of several children during the years that Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was open. Because of this, he's renamed himself Steve Raglan and taken on the role of career counselor to ensure a security guard for his life's work.

Not only smart but extremely well coordinated, William navigates the halls and secret passageways of Freddy's today just as swiftly as he did in the 80's.

You'd been to Freddy's back in its glory days. You've seen the animatronics in their prime and even witnessed the tall yellow rabbit mascot that used to walk around, though he creeped you out, so you always steered clear.

Lately, college has been taking a toll on your mental state, so you decide to indulge in some good old-fashioned nostalgia in the form of "innocently" breaking and entering at Freddy's. Mostly you're just looking for a place to smoke a joint and think about anything other than your major you wish you'd switched a year ago.

"Come on, you said you'd go with me. No one's ever there, it's been closed since the fucking 80s, man," you plead with your friend Mike to join you.

"The temp agency just tried to get me to work there!"

"So then there's no security, right?!" You drive a hard bargain or maybe Mike's extremely obvious feelings for you influence all his decisions.

"Alright. I'll be over in 10. I'm putting Abby to bed." He caves and you giggle in victory before hanging up. While waiting for Mike, you roll a few joints, grab your CD player, and slide a lighter into your front pocket. The minutes drag by until you hear Mike's piece of shit car pull into your driveway. You bolt out the door and climb into the vacant passenger seat.

Mike can't help but stare at you for a minute. You're easily the most beautiful person in this town as far as he's concerned, but he can't bring himself to make a move considering his ever-complicated home life.

"Thanks for doing this, dude. School is kicking my ass." You smile at your friend, and he quickly turns away, hoping the night is concealing the blush on his cheeks.

The drive to Freddy's is short and exciting. It's been years since you've seen this place. Mike pulls into the furthest, darkest corner of the parking lot and the two of you devise a plan of entry. At the very back of the building, there are two large loading dock doors. With both you and Mike using all your strength, you get it open just enough to crawl through.

"Jesus Christ, what did I let you talk me into?" Mike coughs away the dust.

"Come on, this way!" You drag him by the arm, the blood in his face rising just from your touch. Anyone with two eyes could see how Mike felt about you, except you.

You and Mike sit on the floor, right in front of the main stage. The four, old robotic humanoid animals still occupy their spots, holding their respective instruments or props. Time has been unkind to them.

You spark up one of the joints and pass it back and forth to Mike. You each share a headphone as you stare into the tall, decrepit ceiling of the restaurant.

"You think the bathrooms here still work?" Mike asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

"Surely they do if they wanted you to work here, right?" You ponder the question further. "Maybe check the ones in the office area." You point to a door that you recall from childhood that leads to the "boring" part of Freddy's. You ended up there by accident and swore you heard screaming, so you never went back.

Mike disappears in pursuit of a restroom, leaving you by yourself on the large, open party floor. You light another joint and stare quizzically at the robots. You become lost in thought thinking about how lonely it must be here, after all this time.

"You've been waiting for an audience, haven't you?" You tilt your head. Mike's taking longer than you anticipated, so you grab the other headphone and place it in your vacant ear. The volume is loud enough for you to imagine the animatronic band playing it. For a moment, everything around you melts away. You close your eyes, reliving a carefree time in your youth.

"Y/N!!!" Mike barrels down the hall. He's sprinting around every corner, tripping and stumbling the whole way in fear and adrenaline. "GET OUT!! GET OUTSIDE!!" He screams, but you can't hear him. You can't hear a thing. Just as he's about to make physical contact with you, he's yanked backward. The large, yellow rabbit that used to freak you out drags Mike behind the kitchen doors before bludgeoning him over the head, knocking him unconscious.

"I thought you couldn't do nights, Micheal?" The rabbit man binds Mike's wrists together and drags him through the same doors as before. He securely fastens his restraints to a support beam and stands. Already a tall man, he towers in the suit. William Afton.

William slowly turns his head, looking right at you. You sit with your back to him, on the far side of the room, closest to the stage. He takes two steps before you glance behind you, wondering where your friend is. Your breath hitches in your chest when you're met with a giant bowtied rabbit. You glance behind him to see Mike's motionless body on the floor. Time's moving too fast to tell if he's alive or not, and you scream again before taking off toward the door.

The rabbit man gestures to the stage and begins to slowly stalk toward you.

"Stay the fuck away from me! What did you do to Mike?"

"I'll do a lot worse if you don't stop fucking screaming!" William's voice is robotic and warped through the automated helmet of the suit. He's inhuman to you. Your mind can't wrap your head around the fact that anyone is in the suit, let alone William Afton himself. You try to silence your wails, but you can't do anything to stop the terrified sobs. All you can do is think about Mike.

"I-Is he dead?" You whimper, in a state of shock.

"Not yet," is all the rabbit says before he advances on you, grabbing you with unnatural strength. Your arms are pinned by your sides and he lifts you off the ground with ease. Kicking and fighting does nothing but bruise you up, but you try regardless. You manage to free one arm, and in your hysteria, you knock the mascot's helmet off his head. The helmet falls with a heavy thud, but it's as if it's muted in the background as you stare at William. He stares back, unfazed by his revealed identity. It almost looks like he's smiling.

"W-W-W-"

"William," he growls before placing his steel-covered hands around your throat while you were too distracted to notice he'd sat you back down. You claw at the lifeless metal and cloth, but slowly, your vision becomes blurry, and then... Nothing.

Mike wakes before you. He recovers quickly as he realizes where he is. He searches for you frantically, but you're nowhere to be found.

"Y/N!" Mike screams, but there's no reply. He's alone in silence for a few minutes before the unmasked rabbit man appears carrying your wilted body. Mike begins to panic. "What did you do to her?!"

"Calm down, Micheal. She's just tired. She's gonna need her energy." William grins, sending a wave of nausea through Mike's stomach. "You should feel lucky, you get to watch." He steps out of the robotic suit revealing clothes similar to the ones he wore when he first met Mike, not long ago.

"Watch what?" Mike raises a brow. William doesn't reply, he just starts cutting the clothes off of your body. "What are you doing?! Don't fucking touch her!"

William laughs at him, licking the entire length of his middle finger and sliding it inside you while he stares at Mike. He continues to play with you, rendering Mike into a livid mess. William shakes his head, amused, continuing with whatever dark plan he's already hatched for the evening.

You have no idea how much time has passed, but eventually, you wake up. You groan as you try to sit up, only to find that you're bound to a tabletop in an X formation with your legs hanging off the side where your knees bend. There's a raggedy drape of cloth over your body and the dry, musty smell is enough to make you sick. You scan the room in a quiet panic, unable to move and truly study your surroundings. Quickly you spot Mike. His left eye is swollen and will surely be blacked by the time you get out of here... If you get out of here.

"Mike!" You try to yell, but it comes out as a strained wheeze after the damage William did to your throat. Mike locks eyes with you and that's when you notice how scared he looks, but not for himself. You furrow your brow and look in the other direction. There stands William. He's out of the suit now, standing over you with a devilish grin.

"Breaking and entering isn't a good look for either of you," William chuckles. "But especially you, sweetheart." William places a soft hand on your cheek. You recoil in fear.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Mike thrashes in his restraints. It's clear to you that Mike knows what's about to happen before you do.

"Please, we're sorry. We won't say anything to anyone, just let us-"

"Don't be cliche. You knew what you were doing and you did it anyway. This is someone's stuff, you know? Someone's livelihood."

"I'm sorry," you sob.

"You're gonna be," William hits the joint he commandeered from you, and after a long drag, he flicks it to the side and begins to unfasten his belt.

"No! No, no!" You plead, arching and bucking your hips in hopes of loosening the cables that secure you to the tabletop. Mike causes his wrists to bleed, but he still can't get free. William strokes his erection as he watches your helpless body writhe under the sheet. You accept your fate, horrified and humiliated, you look away, facing the stage. You quickly notice it's empty and your heart begins to race.

"They won't be joining us. This is for my- our eyes only." William releases a deep, taunting laugh and starts pumping his middle finger in and out of you again.

"M-Mike..." You try to ask for help, unsure of what he could do for you at this point, but desperate to be free. He won't even look at you now. He's slouched over, looking at the floor, trying to drown out the sensual wet sounds coming from William's fingers scissoring inside you.

"He doesn't want to save you, sweetheart. He wants to see you get fucked against your will." With his last word, he heaves the entire table closer to him, giving Mike a front-row seat to the show. Panic consumes you. Before you have the chance to beg for mercy again, William tears the unkempt sheet from your body, leaving you entirely exposed.

"No! Wait, please!" Your fight or flight response kicks in, but you're helpless to do either. The cables strain against the table, but you're unable to move an inch. You look back at Mike. He meets your gaze and the two of you share a knowing look before you feel William slide the head of his cock up and down your clit, soaking it in the arousal your body had no choice but to pool between your legs after the ways he touched you.

"You make it hard to believe you don't want it when you're dripping like this, sweetheart," William taunts. You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed and afraid, unable to watch the blood rise in Mike's face as he watches you get defiled. Just as you're sure William is about to slam into you with no mercy, he pulls away. You open your eyes and glance at him in confusion, hoping he's realizing he can just let you both go and that would be the end of it. But that's not the case.

William bends to knees, placing your soaked entrance right at the perfect height for him to consume you.

"Let's see how difficult I can make this for you." William buries his tongue in your wet folds, flicking the muscle delicately over your violated clit. You try as hard as you can to fight back any kind of reaction, but you fail. A soft, breathy moan slips from your lips like a note from a music box. William laughs against your sensitive skin.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry." Mike hangs his head in defeat, listening to the sounds of you succumbing to William's sensual touch.

"What are you sorry for? She loves it," William smirks before curling a finger inside you, eliciting another explicit moan from you. He regains his standing position and replaces the head of his erection at your pulsating entrance, waiting. "I've needed this. You have no idea how stressful it is to keep a place like this under wraps."

All you can think about is how stress got you here. All you wanted was a smoke session with your best friend in a cool venue, and now, here you are. You're jarred from your thoughts when William's massive erection drives into you. It's abrupt and painful, but your body gushes with arousal to make up for the stinging, pleasurable friction.

"No!" You scream. Mike fights against his restraints one more time, thrashing and sliding his body in any direction he can, but he's stuck. William throws his head back in ecstasy as he plows into you. He's fucking you like he's eating his last meal. Breathless grunts of focused pleasure fall from his chest. His rough, calculated hands find your breasts, toying delicately with your nipples.

You close your eyes and try so hard to escape the reality of the situation, but William lands a hard, heavy smack across your face, shaking you back into the moment. With a stern hand, he grabs your face and forces you to look at Mike. He's red-faced, enraged, and tired. You can't decide if you want him to look at you or not.

Mike mouths an "I'm sorry" to you, but all you can do is stare at him while William picks up his pace. Your vision is unsteady as he jostles you around.

"You've gone quiet. I think I need to fix that." He draws his hips back and in a split second, your eyes widen in fear before he slams into you at full force. A loud, moaning wail emits from you and the humiliation finally tears your gaze away from your best friend. "There she is," William smirks, steadying his thrusts yet again.

"Please... Stop..." You moan between gasps. Your orgasm is building at break-neck speed. The last thing you want is to climax around William's invasive erection, but it seems as if you have no other choice. The hitching breaths in your chest become loud, sultry moans. Your mind is too frazzled to focus on withholding any signs of enjoying him. Tears stream down your face, but you admit to yourself that you don't want him to stop.

Mike looks away for a moment, but can't help but stare at you. Your eyes flutter shut and your back arches so intensely. He watches the 'O' shape your mouth takes and imagines those same lips wrapped around him. He has to shift uncomfortably, hoping to conceal his already obvious bulge. After you've ridden out your high on William's cock, he slowly slips out of you. Taunting you.

William knowingly reaches under the table and unfastens whatever link was holding each of your extremities. Your hands instinctively find your most delicate, used areas.

"Don't touch yourself unless I say so," he snaps, taking your wrist in one of his strong, demanding hands. His riddance of contact allows your mind to clear from the climax and you're suddenly afraid again. A notorious serial killer is making you his toy.

"Let her go, you've had your..." Mike searches for the words, but he's unsure how to describe the vulgar scene before him. "Just let her go, man." He looks exhausted.

"Don't talk yourself out of a good thing, Micheal," William chuckles before shoving you to the ground in front of Mike. You land with a thud, releasing an involuntary whine of pain when you hit the hard surface. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"No! I-" Mike attempts to protest, but William cuts him off.

"Oh, please. You're not fucking her. Probably never will. Now you get to get off on the idea that it's being taken from her."

"You're a fucking monster!" Mike thrashes against his binds, protectively snapping at William like a guard dog.

"You want me to let her go?" William squats beside the two of you. You lie fucked-out and terrified, curling up next to Mike for some sort of dignity. William grabs your hair and sharply yanks you toward him. You release a high-pitched squeal and allow him to guide your head to Mike's pants zipper.

"What are you doing?" Mike shuffles uncomfortably.

"Don't make me wait," Afton snaps at you and you quickly reach a shaking hand for Mike's pants button.

"What are you doing?! Stop, let her go!" He tries to shake your hands away, noticing the waves of tears falling down your face as you already piece together what William might make you do.

"Mike, I-" you're cut off by William shoving your face into Mike's newly exposed crotch. He diligently bobs your head for you, fist still wrapped in your hair. The second you make contact with Mike's cock, he releases a deep, sensual sigh. Small moans fall out of him left and right, nothing he can do to stop them.

"Tell her to stop, Mike." William waits, but Mike is silent. You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears well up. "Tell her to stop, and I'll let you both leave right now." Silence.

"Mike?" You beg, relieving yourself from the forced fellatio. Mike doesn't look at you, he can't. William smirks and shoves your face back to work. He makes good use of your throat as you take Mike as deep as his shaft can possibly go, ignoring any protest from you.

Mike begins to pant heavily. Little whimpers escape his mouth as his orgasm builds.

"F-Fuck," he huffs before finishing down your throat. When William finally pulls you away, you're a choking, sobbing mess. Betrayal doesn't properly describe what you're feeling right now.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, I- I don't-" Mike fumbled over his words, red-faced and breathless.

"Shut up, now. You had your turn." William lifts you from the ground with ease and throws you against the same table as before. This time, you're bent over it, presenting your ass to him like a trophy to be won. To be taken.

"Please let me go home. I want to go home..." You sob with your face pressed to the large party table. Mike's eyebrows upturn as he watches you cry. Guilt consumes him, and the helplessness of your cries only amplifies that. He's not sure why he didn't tell you to stop, he knew it was the right thing to do. But he was so enveloped in the feeling of your lips bobbing up and down his erection, how could he ever ask for it to end?

"Shhh, you're doing fine, sweetheart." Afton coos in your ear as he leans over you. He's so tall, it's nothing to him. He plays with your pussy for a moment, slipping a long, nimble finger inside you. His eyes roll back in his head as he tests how tight you are in this position. "Perfect."

William slips inside you, fucking you as if he didn't just screw you senseless not long ago. His large, calloused hand comes down hard on your right ass cheek, and a loud slap echoes through the empty restaurant. You release a cry of pain every time he lands a blow, and he does it a lot. You're fucked out, beaten, bruised, abused- everything.

"Plea-" you beg, but another HARD smack to the ass shuts you up.

"Shut up! I'm so... Fucking..." William slams into you one final time before you feel his cock twitching inside you, filling you up. "Close..."

"No!" You try to kick and fight and do anything in your power to stop him from cumming inside you, but it's entirely too late. You sob loudly as Mike watches in horror. William removes himself from you and his handiwork spills from your swollen entrance. Your weak knees wobble under your weight.

Afton looks at Mike and grins deviously before flipping you over and clasping his powerful hands around your neck. The sound of Mike pleading for your life becomes a dull mumble in the background as you slowly lose consciousness. Once you're out, William readjusts his rolled-up sleeves and lands a hard, knock-out punch on the side of Mike's skull.

He dumps you both in the back alley, unsure if you're both alive or dead. He doesn't care, he just doesn't need you here anymore.

Mike wakes up first, placing a gentle hand on his face and wincing at the pain.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He scrambles over to you and takes you in his lap. You're still naked and you're covered in bruises and scrapes, a testament to how hard you fought and how strong William is. "Please wake up. Please wake up, dude. This isn't funny."

You don't move.

"Please wake up! Wake up, Y/N! Wake up!" He repeats over and over, shaking you and lightly tapping your face with his open hand. Finally, you suck in a big breath. The sound of you inhaling causes Mike to jump, but he quickly pulls you into his embrace, relieved to see you alive.

"Mike..." You groan. He quickly sheds his jacket and wraps it around your crumpled form, hoping to give you some sort of cover. The two of you get into Mike's car and head back to your house. The ride back is mostly silent until he finally speaks.

"Y/N, I- back there, I..." He doesn't know what to say.

"I don't think he would've let us go anyway." You stare out the window in a state of shock, secretly reliving the way William made you feel.

"No- that's not the point. I mean-" Mike struggled with his words yet again.

"Do you think he let us live for a reason?" You finally glance at Mike. It's the first time you've looked at him since he filled your throat with an entire friendship's worth of pent-up feelings.

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter. We're never going back there, I promise." He's attempting to comfort you, but something depraved and demented inside you is already thinking about what he'd do if he got his hands on you again.

[ihave-atummyache]

Recent thought if you need inspiration:

Minho fluff where you’re both nail painting and he can use both hands meanwhile you’re struggling af so he helps😭

ahem… this has been in my ask forever and im just now answering it…

anyways(:

also i’ll go back and edit this later so if theres typos just pretend there isnt.

SOFT FLUFFY CUTE ADORABLE LEE KNOW AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

“Babe!” Your voice echoes through the apartment but you get no response. You stand and walk into your bedroom, where you last saw your boyfriend.

“Baby?” Your voice comes out more as a question this time as you enter further into your room. You notice that your bathroom light is on and the door is open.

“In here,” Minho’s voice comes from the bathroom and you enter the room to see him going through a huge container of beauty supplies that you have.

“Watcha doing?” You ponder, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of your boyfriend’s shoulder and letting your arms wrap around his waist.

“I was changing the toilet paper and I noticed this down here and became interested,” he chuckles and glances up into the mirror. You’re already looking at him over his shoulder in the mirror and a soft smile makes its way to his face when he notices you were already looking at him.

“Wanna have a spa night?” You suggest and he laughs before nodding and putting the lid back on the container. You let your arms fall from around him and lead the way to the living room.

“You know I originally came to find you to ask if you wanted to order pizza tonight,” you chuckle and sit down on the floor next to your coffee table. Minho sets the container down and you look up to see if he is interested in your proposal.

He rubs the top of your head before letting his fingers gently rake through your hair. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What princess wants, princess gets,” his tone is half teasing and you playfully roll your eyes at him. Nonetheless, he pulls out his phone and unlocks it before handing it to you and sitting down next to you on the floor.

As you’re placing the order from you two’s favorite nearby spot, he has started to go through the container again, pulling out the contents.

You had the fluffy headbands, face masks, nail polish, all kinds of body creams and lotions, the works. He chuckled at your collection. He finds your hoarding tendencies cute in the right circumstances.

“Okay. It’ll be here in 20 minutes,” you speak up before locking his phone and placing it face down on the table, “Where should we start?” You finish your sentence, eyes trailing over all the products.

“You’re the slumber party connoisseur, you tell me,” he smiles at you and you cant help mirroring the same expression. You turn to the table and grab two fluffy headbands that he had pulled out. One was Hello Kitty and the other one had frog eyes on it.

You immediately take the frog one for yourself and force the other one onto your boyfriend. Before he can complain too much, you put the head band over his head and around his neck. You spin it around so the bow is to the side, just like Hello Kitty’s, before sliding it under his bands and pushing his hair back.

You lean forward and press a quick kiss to his lips which he very willingly returns.

“You’re so pretty,” you comment, pulling away and smoothing his eyebrows down. He just hums in response, acting unbothered, but you notice the redness creeping up his ears.

You grab your own headband and put it on yourself before turning back to the face masks. You decide to do mud masks instead of sheet masks because they’re a bit easier to eat with and your food will probably be here before you rinse off your masks.

You grab the jar and the spatula and Minho just sits there in silence, watching you. He finds himself genuinely amazed by you, not only your looks, but your aura and personality as a whole. He is the first to admit that he is absolutely infatuated by every aspect of you.

When you turn back towards him, he’s looking at you with the softest eyes and most content and fond face that you have ever seen on him, making you raise an eyebrow.

“What?” You question, unscrewing the lid of the mud mask.

“Nothin’. Just love you is all,” his voice is soft and now it’s your turn to blush. You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head as you scoop a glob of the mask onto the spatula.

“Oh hush, you big softie,” you murmur before adjusting to sit on your knees. Minho opens his legs, letting you slide between them so you can get closer to his face.

His hands instinctively find their way to the tops of your thighs, rubbing and squeezing at the skin absentmindedly as you begin to spread the mask across his face. You finish in silence as he sits there with his eyes closed, completely relaxed in your presence.

“Done!” You finish excitedly and his eyes shoot open, a bit surprised at your breaking the silence. You hold the mask and the spatula out to him and he grabs it, letting out a chuckle.

“Come here,” he closes his legs and pats his thighs. You swing a leg over on either side of his legs before settling down on the muscles. You close your eyes and Minho begins to put the mud mask all over your face, much messier than you had done his.

“Nails are next!” you exclaim and grab the container on nail polish. Before you can start digging through it, the doorbell rings and Minho stands quickly.

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!” you chant and he cant help but laugh at your excitement. God, you really are the cutest.

When he returns, you had already picked out the polish color you wanted, choosing a pretty blue shade. You slide the container to Minho and he raises and eyebrow at you.

“I have to paint mine too?” he questions but still starts to dig through the nail polish.

“Duh! I have some colors that aren’t crazy in there,” you defend, leaning forward and pulling a piece of pizza from the box. It’s still burning hot but you couldn’t care less. It took Minho approximately two slices of pizza (great measurement of time) to decide on a color, and he picked black.

“Boringggg,” you tease before twisting the top off the polish and painting your non dominant hand. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you again as you paint.

Once it’s time for you to switch hands, you’re almost done with your thumb when Minho twists the lid back and tosses the nail polish back into the container. Your head snaps over to see that he had already finished both hands and they looked… great. What the hell?!

“How the hell are you done already!” you object and Minho chuckles before blowing on his wet nails.

“It’s much easier when you can use both hands,” he shrugs and you narrow your eyes at him. Screw you, you ambidextrous bastard.

“Then do mine,” you pout and he can never resist when you give him those eyes. You’re just too cute. He takes the bottle from you before holding his other hand out. You place your unfinished hand into his palm and he gently wraps his fingers around your hand.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle before flipping your hand over and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He pulls his knees up and you turn to face him before he places your hand on his knee, giving him the perfect angle to paint your nails.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, because you’re a spoiled little brat,” he comments before beginning to paint your nails and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“And whose fault is that?” you challenge, making Minho glance up at you before continuing to finish painting your nails.

[mouwrites]

Wrote this as a sort-of-sequel to my "How You Met" headcanons! :]

Word count: 1k

Creepypasta/MH - What Should I Draw? ("Ticci" Toby)

You still thought about him sometimes. That boy; the one you sat next to way back in high school. When your mind returned to those little compartments in your memories, the ones filled with noisy hallways and cardboard pizza and hours spent dozing while teachers droned on, there you’d find glimpses of Tobias Rogers.

You remembered the day he first spoke to you, that stupid drawing you made at his request. He had smiled when you showed it to him. It was the most genuine smile you’d seen on any of your peers. Ever. It had struck you.

You weren’t sure how you felt about him. On the one hand, he was authentic; he was unapologetically him. Sarcastic, crass, at times even mean, but real. That quality had always enchanted you. You looked forward to your interactions. But on the other hand, those interactions were scarce. You weren’t close. Your memories of him were minimal in comparison to those of your other friends, or even your teachers. Yet those few memories you did have were enrapturing.

You didn’t think of him all that often, really. Sometimes you’d go months without him crossing your mind. But when you did think of him, it would immobilize you as you slipped into deep thought, gazing blankly as you pondered the curious boy from your past.

When you ventured on these musings, you always landed at the same place: what became of him. You couldn’t decide if you were surprised or not. Why shouldn’t he become a murderer? He was bullied, his home life wasn’t all that great (from rumors you heard; Toby never spoke of his family to you), and he always did seem a little… unstable. But then, there was that smile. That peculiar light that shone when you spoke to him. The way he’d giggle at your jokes and silly drawings. 

But that didn’t change what happened. He became what he became, regardless of what you thought. Regardless of your memories, which were small and scattered like dandelions on a lawn.

But you knew you’d never see him again—so did it really even matter?

It was an impulse. Most things he did these days were impulsive, so that really shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was an impulse that got him rummaging through old boxes in the first place. When he found that wrinkled piece of notebook paper… he decided he needed to go. It couldn’t wait.

And now he found himself perched on your windowsill, easing your window open silently and creeping inside. He locked the door first. Then he made his way to your bedside, letting his hatchet slide towards the ground as he loosened his grip. He let it drop to the floor.

You woke up with a start. After blinking sleepily at the ceiling a few times, your eyes flicked over to the dark figure beside your bed.

You inhaled sharply, flying into a sitting position and backing up against the wall. You opened your mouth to scream, but the man lunged at you. You ducked, rolling off your mattress onto the floor. You saw a hatchet—dirty with something brownish that certainly wasn’t rust—on the ground a few inches from your face. You wanted to scream, but your throat had tightened with fear. 

You scrambled to your feet, stumbling towards your door. You slipped and landed harshly against the wall, your shoulder slamming into the hard surface before you slumped down to the floor.

“Y/n!”

You froze. Blinked a few times at the floor. Then you looked up at the intruder, who was standing awkwardly with one knee still on your bed. He was looking at you through yellow goggles. The rest of his face was covered with a mask. There was nothing to recognize; and yet that muffled voice had seemed… familiar.

He jammed his hand into his pocket, as if suddenly remembering something. You tensed, flinching when he threw something small and white at you.

You yelped when it hit you, but you didn’t need to; you hardly even felt it. When you opened your eyes again you saw a crumpled piece of paper in your lap.

You straightened it out, breathing heavily, sending fearful glances at the stranger five feet away.

Your breathing stopped when you saw what was on the page.

“Toby,” you whispered, looking up once more, this time with whimsy. There was still fear tensing your limbs, but now there was an entire ocean of feelings churning inside you, each fighting for dominance: curiosity, enchantment, excitement, anxiety, and a hundred other things that didn’t have names.

The man removed his goggles and mask with excitement, his shaggy locks getting pulled back for a moment with the motion. You saw his face—but you couldn’t believe what you saw.

You found yourself standing up slowly, making your way over to him. Was it a stupid idea? Probably. But he was smiling that smile, the one that had haunted you for years. It was like a fishing lure twinkling in the sunlight, and you were a foolish bass in the pond.

He didn’t move. He let you bring your hands up to his face. Your fingers hovered over the scars on his cheeks, and you felt nauseous the closer you got.

You suddenly retracted your hands, taking a step back. “What are you doing here?” Your eyes drifted to the hatchet on the floor.

“I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

There was silence. Your heart began to hammer in your ears, and you kept looking at the hatchet. 

Toby eventually noticed this pattern, and with an exasperated sigh he kicked the weapon across the floor. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“Then why did you come?”

He shrugged again, a little shyly this time. “I dunno. Maybe… you could draw something for me again?”

You let out a breath. Was it a sigh of relief? Was it a huff of breathless enchantment? Was it a pant of excitement?

You nodded slowly, sinking to the floor to pick up the piece of paper. You turned it to the blank side, finding a pen on your nightstand. 

Toby plopped down next to you. He was sitting to your right, just as he had sat back in high school.

You couldn’t help the mischievous smile—the same one you’d given him all those years ago—which came to your lips as you asked:

“What should I draw?”

Thanks so much for reading! Take care my lovelies <33

(divider by saradika)

[ilovechuuy4]

My Baby Here on Earth, Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth. So, when it Comes to be My Turn Could You Shine it Down Here for Her? ✧.*

Girl Dad!Boothill

Warnings; none!!

A\N; the number of times i see that boothill was canonically a girl dad w/ an adoptive daughter breaks my heart. Cause he didn't even get to watch her grow up it makes me cry so hard every damn time. (Boothill watched his daughter’s life be taken in front of his own eyes when his planet was nuked. She had just started to walk he didn't even have the time to make a gravestone cause of the IPC demolishing the entire planet 🙁) BUT ANYWAYS ENJOY THIS UNTIL I POST REQUESTS. (D/N is daughters name)

Headcanonsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

• He adores his daughter; he's doing anything and everything she wants even if it means he's dressed in a princess outfit.

• Boothill always, I mean always reads his daughter a bedtime story before she falls asleep and sometimes, he falls asleep with her.

• Despite Boothill being a 'robot' or having mechanical body parts, his daughter still loves to take marker and stickers to the metal and draw doodles / put stickers on him.

• Daddy daughter dates / dances are Boothill's entire thing. He's not going to miss the chance to go to his kid's school for a fun dance. He also takes his daughter on multiple fun 'dates' and outings

• 'Competitive' game nights with each other. Playing player against player games with his daughter and purposely loosing so she can be happy.

• Boothill isn't a strict father, but he does have his rules such; as no sugar before dinner (obviously), schoolwork before screen time, no cursing until a specific age etc.

• When his daughter was getting her ears pierced, she got scared so he got his pierced with her, so she wasn't as scared and now they wear matching earrings.

Scenarioೃ⁀➷

There Boothill sat, in the couch that rest dead center of the living room. His little girl sitting on one of his legs, his right arm draped over her as she drew on his metal arm with paint pens. Small doodles with fun colors, the paint pens were scattered on a little tray that always lays in the man's lap along with multiple sticker sheets. There was a soft smile on his face as he watched her color in her doodles. Her tongue stuck out from between her teeth as she focused on staying inside the lines.

He chuckles softly, adjusting his position for something more comfortable for the two of them. "You're not hungry yet, munchkin?" He asked, his southern accent overlapping his words as he glances down at his rainbow-colored arm and then at her. "Not really papa. But goldfish do sound good." She murmurs, not taking her eyes off her drawing.

He smiles, his hand rubbing her back gently. "Alright then, let's go get you some goldfish, baby doll." He said, gently removing the tray of stickers and markers before standing up, her in his arms. He struts over to the kitchen, placing D/N onto the counter as he gets out a bowl to pour the goldfish in. He opens the cabinet where there was the Holy Trinity of all sorts of Goldfish.

There was the rainbow colored ones that were supposed to be all the same taste, but his daughter insisted they tasted different. Pizza goldfish, cupcake goldfish, double chedder goldfish, s'mores goldfish and more. It was like the entire cabinet was full of them but it really wasn't, he just knew that his little girl liked them so much. "Which type do you want?" He asked her, he watched as she pondered her answer.

"The rainbow goldfish!" She said with a bright smile, watching as her dad grabs a the bag of goldfish and poured her some. "Eat up, munchkin." He said, placing the bowl beside her on the counter. She smiled as she starts eating them, she glances at her papa with a bright smile, her mouth slightly full of goldfish. "I love you, papa!" She said all giggly. "I love you too, sweetheart." Boothill says with a soft smile, gently kissing her forehead.