#this will be three weeks in a row of cooking a new recipe on my weekend! and actually remembering to prep ahead of time andlsbdshs

[holographicbutch]

This week I will be preparing some ribs for u all. So watch out

[sweetbrier2908]

satan's random headcanons

• gives you kisses on knuckles and forehead because he's a charming prince who normally only exists in fantasy. but your fantasy turns out to be real life and now he's your prince charming.

• the most decent one in the family. the first time you realize he's actually a demon is when he talked about how he was going to tortune a lower demon.

• cat café date at least once a week. if there's a new cat? he goes there everyday for a week. friend with all the cat café owners in devildom, he also has share of some cat café since lucifer doesn't allow him to have his own cat.

• always says that he's gonna snitch to lucifer if his brothers do something wrong so he can trick them to tell him their secrets then blackmails them later. succeeds every time for 5000 years straight.

• actually the best cook in the house. from desserts to main courses. there is nothing that he can't cook, as long as he has his cook book with him. he learns recipes from every restaurant he goes, takes note of them, remembers what dish his brothers like and cook them later when he's on cooking duty (also remembers what dish lucifer dislikes and cook them later). if someone in the family says the dish he cooks today good, prepare to eat it for the rest of the year everytime satan's on cooking duty. yes, he LOVES to take care for his brothers though he never admits it.

• never organize his room unless lucifer angrily and strictly asks him to (which happened a very very long time ago since he casted a spell on his door to stop lucifer from entering his room). always says "it's messy in my own way", that's true, he knows where exactly to find this things. you need to borrow some books about devildom's history? shelf 1, row 2, number two from the right side. need some spicy romance book? on the floor, the whole stack at the left side of his armchair.

• knows some very good if not the best pick-up lines. first of all, he's closest with asmo. second, he reads romance books more than anyone in the three realms. always give you the most poetic love letters you've ever received.

• acquainted with all the high-status people in devildom. some random nobel? oh, he met they once in a art exhibition 1500 years ago, just grabbed a cup of coffee with them last month. some of the most famous corps in devildom or maybe human world? he's one of the shareholders. a businessman. literally a businessman. remember the chat where he said he introduced mammon to some perfume company so he could get 80% of the profit? yes, that's the businesman of the family.

• always befriends with people who benefit him and his family. mammon needs money? he can give his older brothers some modeling gigs. levi wants some limited merch? he knows someone in the company? beel wants to go to some restaurants? he can ask the chef to come to their house. no one knows how he expand his social network this much.

• loves to give you gifts. everything. from the most expensive scarf you can find in the whole world to a cat-shaped stone that he finds on the way home from RAD. gives you everything reminds him of you.

• always loves to try new thing with you. today you two goes to the drive-in cimema, the next day he will bring you to the ocean to go fishing. but if you want to go to the bookstore and then the cat café, he's happy to go with you, it's his most ideal date too! and if you don't want to go outside? he has some very interesting book you can try to read. he.will.never.bored.you.

• so insecure, always thinks of himself as the most avarage guy compared to his brothers, and compared to every guy you know. lucifer is always at the top, diavolo's right hand man and stuff; mammon is one of the most famous model in the three realms and known for his infamous reputation; levi is so passionate about his hobby; asmo is super popular and pretty and always the trend-setter; beel is the athlete, always loved by everyone; belphie is effortlessly smart, he's just straight-up the genius of the family and also a spoiled brat. and he, the middle child of the family, an avarage guy who will never be unique enough.

[missyourflight]

omg hear me out: maxiel big eden au (scotty as dean?)

ANON YOU ARE SINGING THE SONG OF MY HEART

Follow me if you will to MONTANA

Daniel’s like a photographer in the big city and he comes back to his tiny hometown for family health crisis reasons. And it’s scary but not world-ending, but his mum’s so stressed and he hasn’t seen his sister’s kids in so long that he agrees to stay for a few weeks and be all together.

And he’s back in his high school room, under soft old flannel sheets, feeling tight in his skin again in a way he hasn’t in years.

His old truck is still in the garage but it makes all kinds of horrible noises when he starts it up. His mum tells him to take it to the general store, Max will fix it up for him, so he drives really gingerly into town and rattles to a stop outside the general store. For Big Eden enjoyers the old guys who hang around outside the store all day are Max’s gamer friends probably. He remembers Max a bit from school; Daniel was a few years ahead of him but round here everyone knows everyone near enough. The Max in his memory was kind of scrawny but this Max is sturdy, Daniel can see the muscles cording his forearms when he pushes up his sleeves.

Max takes a look at the truck, and when it makes a bad noise again he says, I think he didn’t like you leaving him so long, which makes Daniel laugh it’s such a weird thing to say. He watches Max work on the truck and sort of wanders round the store getting reacquainted with everything, the canned food and the beer in the fridge and the blankets on the wall, the racks of postcards. He could take better pictures than these. 

Meanwhile due to the family health crisis everyone is rallying round so Max’s mum sends him over with a casserole or something. And Daniel’s mum makes him stay and eat with them and then Max goes back to his mum’s like, We have to keep making them food. And he keeps bringing food and staying for dinner, warm around the table with the family.

One night Daniel walks him out to his truck, laughing like, I haven’t eaten so much casserole in years. And Max is thinking, I bet he likes fancy New York food. So Max (secretly!) takes over making food for Daniel’s family and does some research and finds some things he thinks sound nice, and after he brings beef carpaccio three nights in a row Daniel is like, Maybe we should try and make something else? Together? Because he’s kind of going out of his mind with nothing to do, and also if Max keeps doing this unsupervised he’s going to turn into a werewolf or something with all the raw meat.

So that’s what they do, cooking together in Max’s little kitchen out the back of the general store, trying to decide on recipes they find online, making ratatouille and sticky ribs and gnocchi. Daniel suggests coq au vin like three hundred times in a horrible exaggerated accent until Max is laughing so hard he’s got a stitch. And they eat together every night and Daniel takes the rest back home to his family, humming to himself over the sound of the truck, so much smoother now since Max fixed it up.

Meanwhile Scotty is Daniel’s childhood best friend who is Also coincidentally back because he moderately injured himself snowboarding or something and his mum wants to fuss over him. Obviously they used to hook up in high school and now Scotty is engaged to a woman etc. And Daniel’s so happy to see him but there’s this ache underneath he can’t even look at.

On Sundays everyone goes to church. Sometimes Daniel twists around in his seat to see Max sitting in a row with his mum and his sister, one of her boys on his knee, their matching haircuts, and afterwards everyone stands outside while the kids run around, Max and Scotty eyeing each other warily. Every month or so there’s a dance in the town square, a band, and Daniel swings his niece around saying Bella, bellissima, tells Max he’s thinking about learning to play guitar.

And Daniel just stays, way longer than he’d planned. He cooks with Max, hangs around the general store making a nuisance of himself, drinks beers on the dock with Scotty. He does some photography workshops at the elementary school, has the kids lie on their backs to take pictures of the sky, blows up all their wonky beautiful shots of leaves and stones for them to pin on the walls. He works a bit, too, taking pictures of the landscape way better than the postcards at the general store, selling prints online, photographing at the rodeo. He could make a living here, he could make a life.

He thinks about it sometimes, how in some ways it’s easier to breathe in the city, how it’s getting easier and easier to breathe here, at home, under the wide sky. He takes so many pictures, of the leaves changing, of the lake at the back of his parents’ house, of the kids, of Scotty whooping in the stands at the rodeo; of Max, smiling shyly from under the brim of his hat; of Max, his hands working under the hood of a truck; of Max, his head tipped back laughing.

One night Max very bravely asks him, When do you think you’ll head back to the city, and Daniel grins at him like, I dunno, we didn’t make coq au vin yet. And Max lets himself start to hope, just a bit.

But then! There’s some sort of big city photography emergency so Daniel is sort of reluctantly like, I guess I have to go back. And his family arrange a send-off, just friends and food at the house the night before he flies.

The night before the party Daniel stands out back for a while looking at the lake until his mum says, Come and sit with me for a while. So he comes and sits on the swing with her and she says, It’s been so nice having you back, which, he already feels shitty for leaving again.

And then she says, Is Max coming by tomorrow? And Daniel’s like, I dunno, I mean I told him. Max had gone really quiet, when Daniel said he was leaving, looking down at his hands for a long moment until Daniel said, You better cook me something nice, and then he’d said, I will, of course.

His mum says, He’s such a sweet boy, and Daniel can only say, Yeah, because there’s this weird lump in his throat all of a sudden.

And then (because this is the Big Eden utopia where homophobia doesn’t exist etc) his mum is like, Did we teach you shame? Just rocking with him on the porch swing under a quilt while Daniel cries a bit.

The next day everyone’s at the house to say goodbye and Max hasn’t shown yet, Daniel keeps sticking his head out of the back door to check for him.

Scotty collars him in the kitchen when no one’s around, tugs him into the pantry. And he kisses Daniel, there in the tiny room with the musty old spice rack and the jars of preserves. And Daniel thinks, his mum didn’t teach him shame, but Scotty kind of did. In high school, under the bleachers, in the back of Daniel’s truck. Never where anyone might see.

Are you not getting married, he says, pulling back, and Scotty says, Yeah, but, his eyes raking over Daniel’s face. For old time’s sake. And Daniel’s leaving everything, and Max didn’t come, and he’d wanted Scotty for so long.

Someone opens the pantry door, quickly shuts it again at the sight of the two of them. Scotty freezes.

Daniel pushes out of the pantry and sees this big pot steaming on a trivet on the table, the door swinging behind Max as he bolts. He calls after him but it’s useless, Max is gone, and when he lifts the lid of the pot he’s hit with the rich rising smell of coq au vin. And it’s like there’s a rope around his heart he hadn’t known was there. Daniel has to go after him.

And there are about seven people blocking in his truck, his truck that Max fixed up, so he just starts running, pounding down the road as the sky darkens. And he’s a mess by the time he gets to the general store, he’s sweating everywhere, and all Max’s gamer friends are outside so mad at him but he pushes past them and finds Max, sitting at the table in the little kitchen with his head in his hands.

Max? His voice is all shot from running over here and Max looks up at him wide-eyed, that rope around Daniel’s heart pulling him until he’s on his knees on the kitchen floor, laying his head against Max’s leg. Max, he says again, the worn denim of Max’s jeans soft against his cheek as Max puts a wondering hand in his hair.

He says, I think I’m gonna stick around for a while, his heart well and truly lassoed, and Max says, Good, wiping Daniel’s eyes with the sleeve of his flannel.

At the next party in the square they dance together, and Daniel feels as big as the sky, the way Max is looking at him, kissing him in front of the stars and everyone they know.

And then they’re gay and in love forever in Montana under the open skies etc

[restorativemeal]

Menu Ten

Menu Ten from Rowan Bishop and Sue Carruthers' "The Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook"

Mexican Frijoles: pinto beans, oil, onion, garlic, dried chilli, coriander, tumeric, capsicum, tin tomatoes with juice, oregano, dried basil, tomato puree, salt and pepper. 

Tortillas: semolina, wholemeal flour, salt, warm water, oil. 

Tapas: cheddar cheese, cos lettuce, carrot, kewpie mayonnaise, sour cream, tomato, avocado, olives, Bishop and Carruthers’ guacamole. 

Chilli Fondue: oil, onion, dried chilli, capsicum, tinned whole tomatoes with juice, salt and pepper, prepared mustard, beer, cheddar cheese, sour cream.

Menu Ten and Week Ten. It felt easy to source significance this week, given it was the final week of my very own early twenties and the 10th week of this journey. Equally, this monumentalism brought about so much pressure in my private life that I once again thought very little about the food and the menu itself. I assume Bishop and Carruthers intended for Menu Ten to be lighthearted and easy and it was, my week just wasn’t. I had wanted during this week to live again like I had in the best times of my early twenties. I have a suspicion now that this was never going to be possible. Bishop and Carruthers had another Mexican evening lined up for Wednesday, corn tortillas and spicy pinto beans. I thought maybe this repetition would translate in some way. 

Imagery of preperation.

On Monday morning I was downtrodden still, by the questions that remained surrounding my health. At lunchtime I got my answers. Inside the Bulk Store, a boy with a buzzcut sat minding the till, maybe he noticed when I ran outside to pick up the phone. The results were overwhelmingly positive, with a prescription waiting for me at the pharmacy far away from where I was. I walked back into the Bulk Store ecstatic. I had received a Chinese love charm from my coworker that day. I wondered if it had worked already when the boy with the buzzcut told me there were no dry pinto beans anywhere because of a worldwide drought, but I could buy them canned. Buying them canned worked in my favour, it took a three day preparation period down to cooking everything the night of the dinner party.

Frijole and big produce.

Setting the table fell off the wagon on Wednesday evening, tension in the flat meant the dishwasher hadn’t been put on the night before, it ran while I cooked and I worried there wouldn’t be plates to eat off. The Mexican Frijoles had a well written recipe, a side note suggested serving with serviettes but I didn’t, even though I have provided serviettes consistently since Week Three. My Tortillas were put together with ease as well, for the second week in a row I was substituting cornmeal for semolina, because Google said it was okay. The blender got its most use ever this week, I blended onion and tomato to go in the guacamole, as Bishop and Carruthers had instructed, it gave the guac an ugly consistency. The avocados I’ve been buying from my favourite fruit and veggie store are never good, but I buy them anyway, which I tend to do with a lot of things. The onion and capsicum for Chilli Fondue was supposed to be blended as well, though I attempted to do this while my guests were talking, the blender whirred but nothing blended. 

Bishop and Carruthers' own guacamole and corn tortillas.

Dinner was served to five usual guests and two new guests. Both of them leaving the country in the coming weeks, a reminder of why I had taken this on. A reminder also of why I could never recreate my early twenties. I missed the photos on my phone. I thought I lost just four things in my 23rd year, but on Sunday my toenail fell off. How can a blog post do justice to the end of an era? 

Menu Ten and the last week of my early twenties...

[lamialamia]

If you get this, answer with three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs! anon or not, doesn't matter, lets get to know the person behind the blog <3

Thank you anon 🥰

One of my favorite hobbies is to read restaurant menus. Front to back.

I have a small caffeine problem. Right now it's one cup per day, seven days a week.

I love to cook! And I love to try out new recipe. Also I love to make stuff fresh instead of meal-prep. Sorry but I'm not the kind of gal who can eat the same thing twice in a row.

[bumblerhizal-art]

Helooooo~~~~ I come with questions for Vir, Iseran and Helga! For all three of them from the Codex prompts:

7. something written by a diplomat who has stayed at Skyhold

And for Helga specifically:

15. something written to your OC by a younger member of their family

Have an amazing day!!!

Hello hello hello! I've scrounged together a platter of codex entries for your sampling! I hope you find them up to taste

As a content warning, the 7s (particularly Vir and Iseran's) include some minor fantasy racism

Cut for length

7. Vir & Iseran

An intercepted letter found on Leliana's desk and bearing the seal of Savrenne. Dearest brother, With your next shipment, please include one of our musicians. Ignace lost his in the evacuation from Haven, and the music played in Skyhold's court is so painfully provincial compared to your Sylvestre's compositions. I require more velvets and furs as well. My seamstress needs quality materials to occupy her hands. I did not plan to spend so long in these freezing mountains. If my dresses grow any more outdated, the others may begin to think me a walking corpse, and with these temperatures, they very well may be right! I remember two of the Inquisitor's companions, the Dalish and Qunari apostates, from the Conclave. When I first saw them, the Qunari was carrying off the elf away from the Divine's quarters shortly before the explosion. Now, they stand unharmed and protected by the Inquisitor's side. It would be untoward of me to speak ill of those so clearly trusted by the Inquisitor, but it must strike one as suspicious. Perhaps Val Royeaux was too narrow in her earlier accusations. Just the same, these words may very well be the ramblings of mountain air madness. Pay them no heed. In happier news, after the Inquisition's rousing sealing of the Breach, it now intends to also locate and defeat its creator. Clearly, we were wise to lend them our support. I've overheard rumors of them attempting to secure invitations to the Empress's upcoming masquerade at the Winter Palace. I'm sure our efforts would be appreciated if we could make that any easier. Your most trusted ambassador, Etiennette

7. Helga

Arl Leonas, I have just arrived safely in Skyhold. The accommodations have been quite acceptable. There is a much heavier Orlesian presence than Fereldan, but rest assured they will not force their own course without challenge. I will keep you informed as events unfold. Ever at your service, Ser Gwyneth Ps. The rumors are true. The Herald is a dwarf. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I have to wonder what it means that the Maker sent one who isn't even one of His own children to save us. He works in strange ways alright.

15. Helga

A carefully folded letter found among Helga's personal effects. A tattered white flower is inside. There are several words which have been misspelled, scribbled out, and rewritten correctly. Dear Mom, Gunnar let me borrow his crossbow yesterday. He said I was the quickest talent he'd ever seen! I knocked down five bottles in a row from the opposite side of the shooting range. By the time you get back, I bet I'll be the new best archer at the hideout. Dad's been taking me to the Uncrushable Pigeon for dinner every night, and it's starting to get samey. He tried to cook eggs for breakfast one time last week, and they caught on fire. The Dasher says you're going to be off on mission for a long time, but can you at least send Dad your recipes? I think he needs the help. I'm going to sneak a pretty flower I dried into the envelope for you when he's not looking. Sincerely, Willem

[Ask Game]

[wheeloffortune-design]

I don't know exactly how to call my eating disorder, and even if I can or should label it as such. I call it "food related anxiety". It's probably very tied to executive dysfunction, and the process of buying food, making sure the ingredients don't go bad, planning meals, cleaning the kitchen and actually cooking is very hard on me. Also, I might not get the release of happy hormones people should get when they eat, so it just becomes a task and not a pleasure. (Only sugar does that for me and you can see how this is a problem. I can taste good food, but apparently just eating itself should make you happy. I just do because I have to.)

Anyway, I don't eat right. No routine and too much take out. These last few weeks have been bad. Uber eats owns my first born by this point. But it's better than not eating, because that's what happens if the anxiety overwhelms me.

Now, in the long series of "having money solves all my problems" I subscribed to one of those meal boxes where the ingredients arrive all ready.

It's the 2nd day and I think this will honestly change my life. Not the fact that it's easy, because it's still cooking, but by removing so many steps in the process, it lessens the executive dysfunction and I get to the cooking stage without having to spend three hours paralyzed in my bed because I'm hungry but I can't feed myself.

I've been cooking with my brother and we have enough energy to clean after. The food in delicious. Learning new recipes makes them less intimidating, and I'll have an easier time including veggies if I know many ways to cook them.

So far, my goal is three months. They say habits take three months to form, so this'll be my cooking bootcamp. Maybe after that I can actually have a control over what I cook and what I eat. It would be nice.

I've been insanely proud of being able to cook and clean two days in a row. And it was delicious.

[thebirdandhersong]

Sad things this week:

said goodbye to Mr. Knight yesterday and have yet to recover :')

Briar went into the ER again and has had about twelve seizures this week

today is So Busy I genuinely just want to sit down and cry

the new Dr. Strange movie, but this mostly quibbling and grumbling and sighing and not really a genuine threat to my happiness

next week is So Busy I am working hard not to think about it (but the GOOD kind of busy! The meeting up with many friends kind of busy! It just is a bit taxing to have three lunches back-to-back that will last several hours, which I have no money for in the first place)

HAPPY things this week!!

got to see Mr. Knight SO many days in a row D': and talked to him for hours on end (which was fantastic)

got to cook for the house!! Which was a lot of fun

printed out the recipe @madamescarlette recommended for Best Pumpkin Muffins to make Best Pumpkin Muffins with Briar and they were indeed the Best Pumpkin Muffins Ever (just the right amount of sweet and just the right texture!)

SO MANY FLOWERS RIGHT NOW

shall get to see THREE friends next week!! Even though it is back to back meetings from Tuesday to Friday, I am still quite excited to spend time with them :)

get to see Mr. Knight in two weeks!

[wizkiddx]

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.  

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something. 

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer. 

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about. 

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?” 

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard. 

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts. 

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face. 

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat. 

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement. 

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock. 

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour. 

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too. 

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face. 

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and  frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.” 

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side. 

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other. 

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?” 

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set. 

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding. 

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all  and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick.  Naturally too,  you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything. 

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat  the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot,  after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep. 

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked. 

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that. 

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth? 

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares? 

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam? 

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

[tonystarksfavoritedaughter]

Crazy Rich Avengers

Chapter 1:

Summary: You and Peter have been dating for a little over 6 months and have not yet met the Avengers. You were getting curious as to when you would meet them, until you get an invitation from Tony Stark himself, inviting you and Peter to Wanda and Vision’s wedding in Hawaii over Spring Break. You thought that it would be nice to go and finally meet everyone, but what will you think after you’ve been tested by the team?

*Based on the movie Crazy Rich Asians, each chapter will be a different scene from the movie. There will be 15 chapters. Also includes a GIF from the movie scene at the beginning of each chapter.

A/N: I’ve had this series planned for a little while now, and I just got this chapter done and edited and I feel really good about it. I didn’t know if anyone would want to read this until I posted about it yesterday and got some really good feedback, so thank you all who liked it and asked to be on the taglist so much! This chapter is the first scene of the movie, just some things are switched up to fit Peter and the Avengers. Just note that this one is kind of short and nothing much really happens in this chapter since it is just the beginning, but hopefully the next one is a bit juicer. 

Warnings: swearing and fluff 

Word count: 2166

Chapter 1

“Okay class, make sure to email me those presentations by Monday. I don’t want to keep reminding you guys over Spring Break because I’ve still got a life outside being a professor.” The whole class laughs at your professor’s bluntness. It kind of reminds you of your friend from high school, who would always spoke her truth, even when no one asked for it. You packed your things and waited for a clear space to exit your row. Who knew so many kids would be in a business class? Not you apparently. You were a culinary student at the Institute of Culinary Education or ICE for short. Your dream was to become a baker and own your bakery, hence the business class. This was your last class of the day, and you couldn’t wait to see your boyfriend. You two had been dating for a little over six months and it was the best six months you could ever ask for.

You exited out of the classroom, finally, and made your way towards the elevator. On the way down, you looked through your messages and saw that you had five new texts from Peter.

Peter: Hey babe! I’m out of my photography class now. (1:15)

Peter: Waiting by the couches (1:15)

Peter: I miss you (1:17)

Peter: I’m hungry. Let’s go to that pizza place for lunch. I really want some of their cannoli’s (1:20)

Peter: Y/NNN!!! WHERE ARE YOU??? (1:23)

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you walked over to Peter, who sprang out of his seat and practically ran over to you. He hugged with the force of what you assumed felt like ten tons just based on how tight he held you. You laughed at his clinginess and pushed him off of you.

“Dude my class ran like ten minutes late. What’s the matter with you?” you laugh.

He held your hand in his own and smiles at you. “Just missed you is all. Did you see my text about the cannoli’s?”

“Yeah I saw it.”

“And?” he asks hopefully.

“Aaaaaand what?” you played dumb just to see his cute pouty face.

“Can we get cannoli’s?”

“Yes, we can get a cannoli.”

“Ah! You’re the best! Cannoli’s!” he yells at an insane volume for someone who’s just walking down the street. This earns you both a weird look from the people on the sidewalk. You were about to kiss his cheek until he just took off down the street with your hand still in his. You guessed you never knew he liked cannoli’s so much. Maybe you should try out a recipe and make him some one day.

You get into the pizza restaurant and sit down across from each other and waited for the waiter to take your order. You order your drinks; Peter gets Diet Pepsi and you get a Sprite. Both of you talk about how your classes went and held each other’s hand while you talked.

“So, I’ve got to do this project for my class,” Peter began, “And my camera is at the Compound, so tomorrow I’ll be a little late getting home.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Oh! Speaking of which,” you slam your palms on the table, which makes Peter jump a little. “When am I going to meet them? I mean we’ve been dating for going on seven months now, and I still haven’t met them. And I know they know about me because I got a message from Nat telling me happy birthday two weeks ago.” You raise an eyebrow at him waiting for his answer.

“Speaking of said topic, that reminds me. We got invited to Wanda and Vision’s wedding. And it is next Friday in Hawaii, which is perfect because a) we don’t have classes because it’s Spring Break, and b) I know Hawaii is one of your bucket list places.”

Your jawed dropped for several reasons. One, it’s Wanda and Vision’s fucking wedding! You never met them, but from the way Peter talked about them, you could tell they were meant to be. You always thought that they were like what you and Peter had times one hundred.

“Are you serious? They’re having their wedding in Hawaii?”

“Yeah. They thought that since Mr. Stark – “

“What can I get you two today?” the waiter asked breathless. You didn’t even realize how busy they were.

You looked up at him, “I’ll have a slice of the cheese pizza please?”

“And I’ll have two slices of the meat lovers. And can I get three of your best cannoli’s please?” Peter smiled at the waiter as he wrote down your order.

“Alright that’ll be right out.” He walked away almost jogging to get your order in. Goodness they were slammed.

“As I was saying,” Peter continued. “Mr. Stark has one of those beach houses in Maui and so, they thought that it would be the perfect place for them to tie the knot.”

“Wow, so, we’re invited? Like we’re going to Maui and attending the wedding? And meeting everyone?” you asked now slightly worried.

“Yeah,” he drags out confused. “That’s what kind of what ‘You’re Invited’ means.”

“I know, it’s just…this will be the first time I’m meeting them and I always imagined it would be at a like Sunday dinner type of thing. Not a fucking Avengers wedding!”

“It’s okay, I know they’re gonna love you no matter what.”

You take a sip of your drink, “This is also works out for another reason because MJ has been asking us to come see her ever since she moved to Kahului.”

“All the more reason to go.”

You both get your food and Peter immediately starts on the cannoli’s that he’s been longing to eat and practically moans at the taste of them. You get the check and pay and tipped extra for your waiter, because they need to be paid way more than minimum wage. The two of you walk out and head home so you can spend the rest of the night together.

“So, when do we leave for Maui?” you ask, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you.

“Umm, I believe on Saturday.”

Today was Thursday so that means that you only had tonight and tomorrow to pack for a whole entire week. “Shit! I have almost no clothes washed, are you kidding me?” you yell. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I just found out this morning!” he yelled back.

“Okay, well it’s a good thing tomorrow I don’t have classes because now I have to do laundry all damn day.” You reach your shared apartment and go to change clothes and you go straight to the laundry room, faster than Peter could imagine. All of your good, cute clothes had to be air dried and so that’s what you did first. After half hour of folding, and drying, and hanging up clothes non-stop, Peter came in wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby, you’ve been here for forever, come sit down with me,” he pleaded.

“I will once I have all the clothes done, but until then,” you pat his cheek. “I can’t.”

He sighs an ‘okay’ and plants a kiss on your cheek and walks away. About twenty minutes later you had gotten all the laundry done and went to join Peter on the couch. He was watching reruns of Brooklyn 99 which was one of your favorite shows. He put his arms out and made grabby hands and you leaned into his touch. You laid your head on his chest with the rest of your body sprawled out on the couch. He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. You looked up and kissed his lips and sat up just a bit straighter. One of his hands went to the back of your neck and the other rubbed your thigh, and you relaxed even more into him. Your right hand carded through his hair and the other sat splayed on his peck, slightly gripping his shirt. You two stayed like this for what felt like hours, just basking in each other’s comfort. You pulled back to breathe and gave him one last kiss before going back to your original position, laying on him.

“What do you wanna watch?” He yawned.

“Well since your yawning and –“ you yawned this time. “And so am I, let’s just take a nap.”

He hummed in agreement and led you to your shared bedroom and he changed into just a pair of sweatpants. You laid down and he did shortly after. You turned, facing him as your chests were touching. You stared at him for quite a long time before you even realized that you were. His face scrunched up that was so cute you wanted to take a picture.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look cute,” you said back.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Nope. I do,” he challenged.

“That’s impossible because I love you to Jupiter and back,” you kissed his nose, ultimately shutting it down because you were tired. School had kicked your ass this week and you hadn’t really had anytime to just lay with Peter. You scooted down a bit so, you could lay your head on his chest, your legs intertwined, as he held you against him so tight that nothing could slip in between you two.

The next morning you had woken up extra early to make some French toast for you and Peter. You got out the bread and butter and the rest of the ingredients and started cooking. Since you were the one who was in the culinary department, the silent agreement between you and Peter was that you would cook, and he would clean your mess. You tried to not make too much of a mess, because you weren’t that mean. After a couple more minutes you got breakfast done and at that exact moment you put the toast on the plate, Peter comes waddling out with his hair a mess. It was almost like it was scripted like a scene in a movie.

“I smelled French Toast,” he smiled.

“Mhm, I thought that I would be nice and cook breakfast for you this time.” You pecked his cheek and gave him the syrup.

“Eat up and get ready for a long day of packing suitcases, babe,” you winked at him.

“Oh boy.” You didn’t hear his sarcasm often, but when you did it always made you chuckle.

He went over to the couch and you followed setting up the coffee table and turning on Spongebob to watch as you ate. You turned towards him and smiled and received a kiss on the nose. Today was going to be a good day, you thought.

It was now four thirty in the evening and you and Peter were packing up all your belongings into your suitcases. “Okay so you need your swim trunks, flip flops, sunglasses, and what else?” You ask.

“Is that just for swimming?” You nodded. “Then yeah I think that’s it.” You went over to his drawer grabbing his trunks out along with your swimsuit. You had all your clothes spread out into separate piles consisting of swimwear, pajamas, nice shirts, casual shirts, and wedding attire. Peter grabbed all of his clothes and stuffed them into his suitcase and you did the same. After that you went to the bathroom to grab all extra stuff that consisted of teeth and hair products, and everything in that category. Peter went into the kitchen to the medicine and started to pack anything that might be needed for allergy’s and whatnot. You figured you would pack your purse of carry on items before you left tomorrow morning.

After two hours of packing and double checking, and once the bed was cleared, you flopped down face first and groaned. “I’m so exhausted,” you huffed.

“Aww, is my baby tired?” He asked this as he pressed feather-light kisses to your neck that always made you shudder.

“Yes,” you say as you awaited a kiss on the lips. He happily kisses you, slow and lovingly, and you feel like you could stay there for eternity. He pulls away for minute to catch his breath. “We should probably figure out what we want to do for dinner.”

“How ‘bout leftovers? There’s still some enchiladas or lemon pepper chicken in the fridge.”

“Ooooh, let’s do chicken.”

You get up from the bed to heat the chicken up in the oven. “Imma make some garlic cheesy rice too!” You shout from the kitchen.

“Sounds good, baby.”

You two make your dinner and eat in a comfortable silence, watching TV. You both decided to watch one more episode of Parks and Rec before calling it a night, and Peter figured it would be smart to go to bed early since you would both have a long day of checking flights and meeting the Avengers tomorrow; and that was tiring by itself.

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29​ @spideyspeaches​ @binnotjin​

[hypaalicious]

Okay okay, perfect physical attributes aside, what are your favorite traits/things about Ignis?? (I'm sorry this is the first time I've met someone who so openly thirsts for Ignis to this degree like I do)

Hmmm, other favorite Ignis traits, you ask?

One, he cooks. I’m a basic bitch with high functioning depression, ADHDer who goes through manic spurts to accomplish what should be impossible and am very good at pretending I have my shit together. But one thing I absolutely cannot make myself do is cook. Baking is fine for some reason, i can do that for fun. But cooking?🤢 Like, there’s just a supreme mental block in me that feels like someone asked me to hike up three mountains in a row. I will and have starved myself rather than cook myself food. I have subsisted off of nothing but snacks and fast food before I can bring myself to cook even basic ramen. My goal in life is to have enough money to afford a personal chef to cook me meals by the week so all I have to do is eat it.

So the moment I saw Ignis come up with a new recipe, I was taking off my drawls that were already halfway down my legs anyway when it came to him. I tried resisting him cause I didn’t want to pick a favorite so fast, but… 🤷🏽‍♀️ Ignis hell has the gravitational pull of the sun, I fear!

Two, he (English VA anyway) has that dry British humor and effortless edge snatching words I love. I was groomed by Balthier, I had NO CHANCE to withstand Ignis. None. I know he’s gentle in JP but I dig the perpetually exhausted, somewhat sarcastic when pushed, “dad” figure of a group of idiots. LMAOOO I’d like to add to his headache while also healing him. With my poosay.

Three, his dedication. He loves Noct and won’t just do what his duty entails; as we saw in Episode Ignis, he will protect Noct in his own way even if it’s taboo. Even if it costs him his vision, a thing that matters dearly to him. … oh god now I’m reimagining that whole fucked up scene of newly blind Ignis stumbling around after Altissia and

That shit hurted. 🥲

OKAY WELL those are the main things that don’t involve his looks that I really admire about Ignis. ☺️ He is very much the perfect man and I think everyone should worship him.

[yerrrabitch]

WKND

Your eyelashes softly brushed your cheeks as you woke up. Your dark eyes scanned across his room. His scent suffocated you and kissed every inch of your body. His body lay tangled with yours. Your head was tucked between his arm and chest as he took deep, calm breaths. You relished in the feeling of him. These were some of your favorite moments. 

When life could slow down for just a second and you could truly appreciate the man under you. 

Friday Night 7:34PM

You kicked off your heels beside your door and wiped your sweat on the back of your hand. Another hellish day at work. You hated working and wished that you could take his money. But, you didn’t feel comfortable taking away from him to please you. He hated seeing you like this. He loved pampering you in anyway he could. You chuckled at the thought of the argument your current state would cause. You worked as an assistant to a lawyer who made you work unbearable hours and didn’t give a damn about any of your personal needs. He was an asshole but, the position paid well and you rubbed elbows with major figures in the field you wanted to go into after college. 

You washed your hands and took your hair out of it’s bun. You couldn't wait to take this lace off for the weekend and let your hair out. Conforming to corporate America was another one of your least favorite things you did to get where you wanted to be. He didn’t agree with that. Well, he didn’t understand. He had worked through college growing his locs as a computer science major and now owns several businesses while only being two years out. He had established a name for himself; you had not. He offered many times to get an internship or position with one of his personal lawyers but, you wanted to get your connections and establish yourself by yourself. He had a love/hate relationship with your independence. It initially drew him to you when you first met. 

You needed to make a quick snack before showering and heading over to his place for the rest of the weekend. You broke away from the apples and peanut butter to turn on Ari Lennox and unwind in the shower after realizing it was far later than you realized and he was probably worried sick about you. You showered, put in a hair mask and began to shave while dancing to her rhythmic voice when a hand grabbed your waist. You shot right into farthest part of the shower and let out an animalistic scream.

You closed your eyes as tight as possible and waited on the assault. 

Giggles. 

From him.

You wiped a curl out of your face and stared up at him. He was hunched over laughing at you like he was supposed to show up unannounced and scare you half to death.

“Baby,” he started before falling into another fit of giggles, “I came to check on you and here you are, dancing like that when you could be dancing with me upstairs.”

“I need to explain alone time?” You sneered, you were agitated. Why would he do that? He could’ve waited for you to step out of the bathroom at least. You could have fallen and gotten seriously hurt and he was laughing like that was just so funny. The things you would do to keep that smile on his face though.

“You know I didn't mean to intrude on your alone time. I was just seeing where you were. It’s 8:30?” He said still looking at you. The way your curls and coils were pulled into lopsided twists around your face, your nose scrunched up in irritation and dragged your plump upper lip and high cheekbones along with it made his heart whine at the two foot distance between you two. “I’ll wait on the couch for you, then we can go up together?”

You nodded and moved back into the water to finish what you were doing while a soft smile graced your face as you thought of him. 

You crossed the hall and applied all the necessary body butters and creams then waddled out to see him. You rolled over the back of the couch and on to his side. 

“Hey.”

He smiles up at you and places a soft kiss on your cheek. He begins peppering them all across your face and across your neck. You begin laughing when he bites on to a ticklish part of your clavicle. You place your hands at the nape of his neck and pull his head back. 

“Did you cook?” You asked looking at his beard. You loved the way it felt when it grazed your thighs but, you hated the scruff he had began to grow during quarantine. He loved it though. Anything to differentiate him from his youth. 

“Don’t you wanna order in? There’s this new Thai place on the North side. I had some for lunch last week and almost nutted,” he said staring into your eyes while tracing the curve of your jaw, “we can eat that.”

You nodded and began to get off of him and grab your slippers to go to his place. He lived five floors above you. His penthouse was amazing. It had a great view, a private elevator and this kitchen that you loved to cook in. Sometimes after an exam you both would stay up trying new recipes to get your minds off the stress. You loved cooking with him and were a little disappointed at the loss of bonding time. You knew he'd make up for it though.

“We should order it soon, you know everything out here closes early as hell.” You replied as you locked your apartment up and grabbed his hand to walk to his elevator. While waiting for it to rise from the lobby you stared at both of your figures in the reflection. His massive body next to yours, you looked like a child. A curvy child, but still a child. The hand wrapped around the phone as he orders food looks bigger than your waist. His large torso compared to your average sized one. He towered at 6′6 and you lived at 5′8. You were taller than most but, he humbled you whenever you tried to act bigger than him. Your wide hips were the only thing on you bigger than him. He would argue that your head is bigger than anything in the room. 

You were busy comparing your body to his when he guided you into the shaft with a hand on your lower back. You thanked him and stepped inside. You felt his hand moving to cup just beneath your bottom. He gave two taps to your butt and opened his other arm, signaling you to jump on his waist. You rolled your eye but, still complied and let him carry you the rest of the way. The elevator dinged and he began to move. His breathe was warm against your cool scalp. And his body warm against yours. You loved him carrying you almost as much as he did. He loved taking care of you and anyway that you would allow him to gave him joy. 

You had decorated the entrance of his penthouse. Initially it had been bare but, you added a mirror, a welcome mat and a tall plant that required almost no care so he couldn’t kill it by forgetting it. But, he would never let anything you gave him die. He walked up the stairs and into his bedroom. He turned around and sat down on the bed with you still attached to him and then laid back. You rolled over and began to remove the pillows from the bed. When you first met him he only used one pillow and now he can’t sleep with out at least three on the bed or you. You patted the spot next to you and almost squealed when he settled in next to you. You loved cuddling. He loved it too, only with you though. In previous relationships, it’d irritate him and make him overheat but, with your cooler body temperature and lovable personality he couldn’t resist. You rubbed up and down his side while he rubbed circles on your butt. You pushed your lips up at your nose. His eyes flashed to them and he immediately captured them with his own. He had a special way of kissing you. It never took your breath away. It was like it was your breath. You could kiss him for hours and only need to stop to fulfill bodily functions. Your lips fit perfectly together. You felt his bottom row gently dig into your top lip as his hand drifted from your ass to your right breast. His hot tongue slips into your mouth and you attach on to it and begin sucking it. His mouth retracts slightly as he smiles at you. Clearly, he doesn’t like you having too much control as he takes your nipple in his hand and twists it. You gasp and he takes that as his chance to do what he wants with you. He keeps kissing you and pulls away to begin kissing down your neck. You feel your lower belly getting warm and you try to pull his hand from your breast and place it in between your thighs. You hadn't had your fill all week and you wanted him right now. He snatches his hand away from you and doesn’t even look up at you.

“I’m taking my time tonight, so you just gone have to wait my love.” He said in between open mouthed kisses on your chest. You loved when he showered you with affection like this but, there was a time and place for everything and this was neither. You wanted to fill him shoot into the depths of you then carry you into the bathtub so you both could scrub the sins away then slide back into bed and go to sleep. You were tired and you’d rather use your vibrator and come back after you came at least once.

“Baby, I’ve been waiting all week.” You whispered looking down at him.

“Who’s fault is that?” He asked, finally reaching your nipples. “Not mine, if I could’ve had you every night I would have. I would’ve had you in the morning too. Before work. At lunch. Before dinner. For dessert. But, you had to work right mamas?” He plopped your nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around your ring and lightly nibbling on the sensitive flesh in-between the metal. You were enjoying his assault on his body and accidentally ignored his question.

He bit down. Hard.

“I asked you a question didn’t I?” He said staring up at you. You nodded eagerly. 

“Words.” He said with a lot more bass in his voice. 

“Yes.” He smiled up at you. You were wet and you knew that he wasn’t going to let you come once tonight after that. He’d just edge you for the rest of the night and hopefully let you cum tomorrow. He moved to the next nipple and used his fingers to give the other nipple to attention she deserved. 

He loved playing with the fattier parts of your body. One day in the earlier days of your relationship you had told him about your insecurities and he made it his duty to show extra affection to them whenever possible. He moved down to your belly and began kissing all around it and sucking your flesh in between. He pulls back up to you and places a gentle kiss on your lips and smiles.

“I love you.”

He pulls your shirt back down and pulls your body tightly against him. You feel him throbbing against your thigh as you sit on his lap. He grabbed your left foot and began to massage the heels of your feet, slowly working up to your toes and moving back down methodically. You wanted to enjoy pleasing him and vice versa but, you knew tonight was really going to be affection rather than sex. You craved an orgasm but you also needed intimacy. You loved how he knew where to find a balance in your needs and desire them. 

Saturday Morning 9:50AM

The Thai place was amazing. You could see yourself sneaking there during lunch breaks for the dishes. You both had finished off two bottles of wine and sat snuggled up on the couch watching Living Single re runs. He laid on your chest between your thighs as you both fought sleep. He smelled of deep amber and vanilla. A cologne that you mentioned loving years ago and he made a point to wear around you. 

You looked at the man next to you. You gently disconnected yourself from him and crawl beneath the sheets. You pull his member from his boxers and spit on it. You feel his body shift, he’s waking up. You lick up the under side of the shaft and attach your lips to the top. You extend your tongue outside of your lips and begin pulling in and out of your mouth. A deep chuckle breaks your concentration. 

“You love this dick don’t you?” He mused. You nodded “Couldn’t wait for me to wake up?”

You continued your assault by forcing the entirety of his length into your throat. You always struggled through this part but you never stopped trying. You gagged on it and kept pushing. You were confident that you wouldn’t vomit but you needed to taste his nut. You repeated the process, sucking the tip then taking it all down your throat. You loved the feeling of his breath becoming quicker and his hand pulling your bonnet off and grasping your twists in both of his hands. His hips kept bucking up at you until you felt warm ropes begin to paint your throat. You loved this taste. The feeling of his balls constricting on your cheeks. The way his happy trail tickled your nose. The way his thighs felt so strong against your finger tips. His firm grip on your hair. It all made you want him more. You kept sucking after he had finished until his body began to twitch again. It was only right to overstimulate him how he had done you so many times before. 

You lifted off of him and hurried to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You knew once he gained his strength back he would return the favor a few times over. He padded in behind you and began running the water in the bathtub. You smiled softly and went to the kitchen. You cut up apples, oranges and put grapes into a bowl and met him in the bathroom. He had grabbed towels and began to strip. Staring at your gown, he points and the tub. You comply and bring the bowl with you.

“Eat mama.” He commands and begins kissing up and down your neck. His hands go beneath the water and find your folds. He grazes across your clit and down to your opening. His right hand rises to your breast and he palms it lightly. He grasps your clit between two fingers and rolls it between them. Your breath hitches. 

“Please, Erik.” You breathe. You feel him smile behind you.

“Please, what baby?”

“Please fuck me.”

His laugh shakes your chest as he puts a singular finger inside of you. He knew that he needed to work you up to his size. After a week away from him, you always shrunk to a coin slot. He curved his hand around to place one hand on your clit while still fingering you. You move the bowl to the ridge of the tub as you feel yourself getting closer to a climax. He adds another finger in. Initially it is uncomfortable but as he keeps rubbing your clit your loosen up around him. You pant as you feel your end close to you. He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you and turns the shower on behind both of you. He pulls you up carefully after moving the bowl to the floor near the tub. He lifts you up by your waist and slowly guides your onto his dick. He stretches you immediately and you feel like you might split open. It hurt but still felt so good. 

After waiting for you to nod at him, he began pumping in and out of you. Slowly at first then he picked up speed. He backed you into the wall and moved one of his arms from around you on to your clit and began rubbing. The hot coil in your belly began to tighten and you knew your orgasm was coming quickly. He looked so focused on getting your nut, he was barely worried about his. You begin coating him in a thick, white cream as your body is almost to your peak. Your moans begin to fill the bathroom as he hit your g spot. You finished and you felt yourself squirting on him. He loved that. He loved drinking it more than watching it though. 

He immediately followed behind you and filled you up with his cum. The warm water hit both of your side as your legs dropped and he laid his forehead against yours. He lightly kissed you then pulled out of you. You felt cold now without him inside of you. He reached for your body wash and you reached for his. Every time you had shower sex, you both would wash each others body’s. 

Regardless of all the shit you go through during the week. This makes it worth it. Orgasms before noon and endless support and love from a man you love. 

[sevlgi]

Jenrene with prompt 13? (I hope I get it!!)

christmas blurbs!

PROMPTS: 13. “You burnt the holiday cookies?”

NOTES: and we’re done! with the year and with christmas blurbs. thank you all so much!

WORD COUNT: 572

Considering that your girlfriends were the chefs of their respective groups, you probably should’ve asked for their help with baking. But you decided to try and surprise them for whatever reason, even if you knew it would probably turn out badly.

“We’re home!” Jennie was the one who shouted, though Joohyun’s quiet mumbling could be heard as well. You completely forgot about the 2 minutes remaining on the timer, a huge smile breaking out on your face as you rushed forward to wrap the both of them into a hug.

“Welcome home,” you grinned. Joohyun pressed a kiss to your cheek before continuing to take her numerous layers of jackets off. “How were your schedules?”

“Tiring,” Jennie sighed with her chin still on your shoulder and her hands lingering on your waist. “I don’t know how Jisoo did it for a year, MC’ing is so hard.”

Joohyun chuckled at that, somehow still struggling with taking her boot off. “Don’t believe her. She was so good, I don’t know how she isn’t a permanent MC yet.”

You laughed and shook your head, patting Jennie’s hands. “I believe Joohyunie, you must’ve been amazing. I’ll watch you soon anyway, the tickets are for next week’s show, right?”

Jennie nodded, about to open her mouth when she was cut off by your older girlfriend’s frown. “Hey, Y/N. You weren’t baking something, were you?”

“Huh? I don’t think so?” you answered confusedly. 

Joohyun furrowed her brow, peeking over you to the kitchen. “Well, something’s burning.”

Then it clicked in your head. “The cookies,” you gasped, tearing out of Jennie’s grasp so you could rush to put out the gray smoke starting to billow out of the oven.

“You burnt the holiday cookies?” Jennie was stifling a laugh as she followed you, seated in the front row to watch you pull a tray of charcoal disks out of the oven.

You groaned, setting the tray down on the pristine kitchen counters with a clatter. “Dammit. I did.”

“It’s okay,” Joohyun murmured, inspecting the tray. There was a bit of a chuckle in her tone as well, though not as much as Jennie, who was outwardly giggling and clapping her hands together. You pouted at the oldest of you three, reaching your arms out for a hug that she gladly supplied. “We can just make another batch together.”

“Hey, don’t leave me out!” As cuddly as ever, Jennie wormed her way into the hug as well, gummy smile on full display. “I got a really good cookie recipe from my mom anyways. And Joohyunie and I got home early, we can easily make a batch before midnight.”

You sighed and thanked whatever kind of fate had given you such amazing girlfriends. “Thank you guys. I love you~”

“It’s okay. I didn’t date you for your cooking skills anyway,” Joohyun sighed, pulling away. She scrunched her nose at you when you reached to pull her back into the hug, Jennie still clinging onto you like a koala. “Come on, Y/N, you can watch us bake. You’re the support system in this relationship, at least when it comes to cooking.”

“I’m good with that,” you laughed, settling yourself behind the counter as Joohyun tied Jennie’s apron. Heading into the new year, you knew that things could only get better, with the two amazing girls that you loved right by your side. Even if you still couldn’t learn to bake.

[missinghan]

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up. 

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.” 

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink. 

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor. 

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years. 

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates. 

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One. 

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night. 

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this. 

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy. 

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends. 

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit. 

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down. 

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa. 

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends. 

two. 

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed. 

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what? 

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract. 

Are you sad about that? 

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it. 

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time. 

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since. 

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece. 

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning. 

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy. 

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time. 

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him. 

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time. 

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire. 

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here. 

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this. 

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much. 

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life. 

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms. 

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way. 

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him. 

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight. 

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine. 

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.” 

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that. 

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung. 

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person. 

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway. 

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood. 

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that. 

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether. 

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.” 

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt. 

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.” 

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.” 

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway. 

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions. 

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is. 

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying. 

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while? 

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.” 

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle. 

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend. 

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.” 

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?” 

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world. 

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits. 

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic. 

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content. 

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further. 

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber. 

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten. 

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.  

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn. 

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink. 

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red. 

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason. 

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly. 

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour. 

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable. 

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard. 

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk. 

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body. 

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense. 

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.” 

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight. 

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself. 

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing. 

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer. 

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here. 

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in. 

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to. 

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students. 

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready. 

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long. 

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet. 

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you. 

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed. 

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb. 

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them. 

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary. 

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?” 

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon. 

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly. 

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care. 

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward. 

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach. 

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you. 

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless. 

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change. 

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down. 

After all, you can’t love alone. 

[reyeslonestar]

red snapper boy

Available on Ao3

Uhh hey so this is essentially this post about Carlos being friends with the ‘guy at the market’ expanded into an actual fic. basically Carlos makes friends with everyone and this is about one of them

Carlos Reyes pov, Original Male Character, Carlos Reyes/OC friendship, Slight Angst with a Happy Ending,

 2.9k words

The early morning sunlight shines just above the tops of the stalls that line the marketplace as Carlos meanders through them, picking up groceries from some vendors and stopping to chat to those he isn’t buying from this morning. He always prefers to come here instead of a store; he’d grown up trailing his mother around an open market like this one as she sought the best ingredients for her many delicious recipes, so when he’d grown up and moved out the habit had stuck.

“Ahh, Carlos! How are you this morning, my friend?” Carlos smiles at Juan’s greeting and heads over to the fish counter where rows and rows of colourful scales and fins glitter in their stacks on the crushed ice.

“I’m well, Juan, and you?” Carlos asks. Juan had been the first vendor Carlos had befriended when he’d found this market; the fishmonger had been delighted by the culinary knowledge he’d admitted to when he’d first bought from his stall, and a strong friendship had since grown over the years as they’d traded recipe ideas and kitchen tips.

“I can’t complain,” Juan says cheerfully, plastic-gloved hands resting on the counter in front of him. “Now, what can i get for you? I have some more of that salmon that you liked, or some pollock? We even got some catfish in this morning.”

They spend a few moments chatting, and Carlos gives him his usual order in between catching up on Juan's family news, and the latest of the scandalous gossip that seems to spread around the fishing community like wildfire.

“Anything else for you?” Juan asks, spreading his hands above the fish bar.

“No, I think I’m good today.” Carlos shakes his head. He’s not cooking for his family this week, and there’s only so much food he can eat by himself.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with this fresh red snapper? Look how strong that colour is, Carlos! Perfect for treating a special someone, eh?” Juan teases, effortlessly showing off both sides of the fish and Carlos chuckles, shaking his head at Juan’s running joke about Carlos’ nonexistent dating life.

“You’re incorrigible, Juan,” he says, “but no, I’ll have to pass.”

“Maybe next time then,” Juan smiles, turning to wrap up the pieces that Carlos has asked for.

“Wait, actually,” Carlos says after a moment, an idea forming in his mind. Maybe there was someone he wanted to cook for, to treat to a special meal.

“Yes?” Juan prompts, looking at him with evident curiosity.

“Yeah, I will take that snapper,” he says before he can backtrack.

Juan raises an eyebrow at the implication that Carlos knows he’s made with their conversation. “Carlos! You haven't been holding out on me, have you? Have you got a boyfriend?” he asks, voice dipping into a mock-scandalised tone on the last word.

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Carlos rushes to correct him, a faint warmth rushing to his cheeks. Whatever he and TK are, they are most certainly not boyfriends. But maybe this could be an opportunity to get to know each other a little better. “I think this would be more of a first date, if it's even anything serious,” he confesses, and Juan grins at him.

“Well, at least you know your date will be well fed,” he jokes, picking up the fish to wrap it with Carlos’ other items. “You must tell me how you find it, I just know it will be delicious.”

Carlos laughs. “Of course, I would expect nothing less from you,” he says and once he’s paid and Juan has finished packing up his order, he waves goodbye and wanders on through the market, already planning sides and a sauce that would go well with snapper.

*

As it turns out, Carlos never finds out whether or not the fish was any good.

The sound of the door slamming behind TK’s back echoes around his head as he slumps into a chair in defeat. While he’d known that TK wasn’t looking for anything serious when they’d started hooking up, he hadn’t quite anticipated that the prospect of an actual date would have him walking out the door less than three minutes after he’d walked in.

Although, Carlos suspects that it was more than just the idea of a date. While TK had seemed reserved when Carlos had seated him at the table and offered him a drink, he would be blind to miss the way TK’s walls had flown up at Carlos’ comment about it ‘not being a marriage proposal’. Whether his own defensiveness that had crept out at that moment had pushed TK away, or something else, Carlos just wishes he knew what he’d done wrong.

He sits motionless for a few minutes, eyes not really taking in what was in front of them until the chimes of his phone fills the room, startling him. Picking it up, he switches off the timer he’d set for the fish and slowly gets to his feet, heartbreak making each of his limbs feel as though they were made of lead. Picking up some oven gloves, Carlos pulls the tray out of the oven and unceremoniously drops it onto the counter, closing his eyes against the delicious smell that filled the kitchen. He hasn’t eaten since the early afternoon when he was still on shift, but despite the prospect of the carefully prepared snapper in front of him, his appetite had vanished out the door with TK. Unable to stand it any longer, he grabs the tray and dumps everything in it into the bin.

*

The next morning Carlos finds himself at the market bright and early, a shopping list courtesy of his mother in his hand. She had sent him the list soon after he’d woken up, knowing he had a day off and could help her out while she was caught up with keeping the family ranch running smoothly. Scanning the list, his stomach sinks as he sees the next items that he needs to get.

His mother needs salmon fillets. Which means talking to Juan.

Carlos really hates his life sometimes.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Juan, but he knows that his friend will want to know about his date, and he’ll want answers that Carlos doesn’t want to face just yet. Carlos also doesn’t want to worry his friend, who’d seen him the last time he’d been rejected, when Carlos’ somewhat fractious relationship between his parents and his sexuality had proved too much of a issue for his ex. That whole fiasco had been a mess that had left Carlos brokenhearted, wondering if anyone was going to stick around long enough to love him.

It was uncomfortably similar to his current emotional turmoil.

Unfortunately, none of that is something he can give as a reason to his mother for why he’s neglected to get all her groceries, so he steels himself and heads over to Juan’s familiar stand.

“Hey Carlos,” Juan greets him, ever cheerful, “I wasn't expecting to see you today - this isn’t when you normally come.”

“Hi Juan,” Carlos forces a smile onto his face, trying to maintain some impression of normality, but it quickly drops. “Just picking up some things for mamá, she’s a bit caught up at home today.”

Juan nods slightly as Carlos gives him his mother’s order and he starts preparing the fish, but Carlos doesn’t miss the way his brow has furrowed at Carlos’ uncharacteristic manner.

“So,” he asks eventually, when Carlos doesn’t offer any conversation, “how was your date? Did you both enjoy the snapper?” His voice is cautious, apparently sensing Carlos’ mood, which plummets even further as guilt floods him at the memory of the fish landing in the bin, untouched and untasted.

“Ahh - well,” Carlos starts, chest tight with the cocktail of foul tasting emotions that are swirling through him. “Yeah, not so great.”

Juan looks up at him, concern filling his features. “What? What happened?”

Carlos shakes his head, not sure how to explain what exactly had happened the night before. “He- I- He didn't exactly stick around long; we didn't actually get to eat the fish,” he eventually admits.

“I guess he wasn’t on the same page I thought we were on,” he continues, “I’m sorry, Juan.”

“What- why are you apologising, Carlos? Fish really isn’t that important - although you are not allowed to quote me on that,” he jokes, making Carlos smile weakly. “I’m sorry my friend, you deserve better than that idiot.”

“No,” Carlos jumps to TK’s defence instinctively. “No, he’s not an idiot, he’s a good man, he’s just- I don’t know, going through some stuff, I think.” In truth, Carlos has no idea what’s going on in TK’s head, but it’s not TK’s fault that Carlos got invested too quickly, and Carlos can take a hint when someone wants him to back off.

Juan frowns. “Still, Carlos, you’re a good man too, and you deserve to be treated with more respect than that.”

“Thanks, Juan,” he says, but he’s not sure he really feels it. “Are those fillets ready?” he adds, changing the subject.

Juan quirks an eyebrow at his lack of subtlety, but doesn’t comment, instead ringing up his order and handing over the fillets.

“Look after yourself, yeah, Carlos?” is all he says, and Carlos nods.

“I’ll see you, Juan,” he says before he leaves, “keep well.”

*

Carlos doesn’t see Juan for a bit. He can hardly seem to grab a morning off from work, meaning Juan’s fish counter is empty by the time he makes it to the market in the afternoons, and as he starts spending more time with TK after their conversation at the police station, his free time seems to vanish. Then the lockdown comes into place and the market closes anyway, so he’s forced to resort to buying food from the store.

TK teases him for his disdain for store-bought quality, but Carlos just tells him to wait until they can go to a market and he can treat him to food made with the freshest ingredients.

Eventually, the markets in Austin reopen and they both have a day off when they’re both prepared to get up early. Or, more accurately, when TK is prepared to get up early, as Carlos tends to be an early riser even when he doesn’t have a shift.

They wander through the stands with their hands entwined, regardless of how inconvenient it becomes to pay for their groceries and fill their shopping bags. Before long, they turn a corner and Carlos spots Juan at his counter.

“Hey Juan,” Carlos calls out to the fishmonger as they walk up to the stand, and the shout of happiness he gets in return makes him grin.

“Carlos! My friend, it’s been too long!”

“It has, I’ve missed you - and your fish,” he jokes, “how’s business been?”

“Ah well, you know, a global pandemic tends to put a damper on things.” Juan shrugs and spreads his arms in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “But I’ve managed - I was running a delivery service for a while but now the market’s are open again things are getting easier.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Carlos says, “and how’s your family?”

“Thank you, and they’re well - we’ve all been okay, thankfully.” A quiet look of relief crosses his face and then his expression turns curious. “Now Carlos, don’t you have some introductions to make?”

Carlos chuckles at Juan’s complete lack of subtlety. “Of course - Juan, this is my boyfriend, TK. TK, this is Juan.”

“Boyfriend huh?” Juan says, studying TK with a steady gaze.

“Hi,” TK says, “Pleased to meet you, Juan.”

Juan turns to Carlos, bluntly ignoring TK’s greetings. “Is this the red snapper boy?” he asks, and Carlos frowns slightly at his cool tone.

“Uh - yes,” he says, not necessarily surprised by the question, but unsure where Juan’s going with it.

“You know something?” Juan turns back to TK, voice inviting no response, “You wasted a damn good fish, boy, but more importantly, you weren't too kind to my friend here.” The displeasure in Juan’s voice causes Carlos’ jaw drops open in shock, but apparently he’s not finished.

“Do you know how long I have been selling Carlos fish? And offering him something interesting each time, waiting for the time that he has someone special to cook for? And you, you are the one that makes him stop and buy my best snapper, and then I find out no one ate it! A waste! A complete waste!” Juan finishes, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Carlos doesn’t know what to say, completely taken aback by Juan’s outburst. He sneaks a look at TK, who seems equally surprised, and his cheeks have turned pink with embarrassment, but he can also see the slightest twitch of amusement playing over his lips and he takes a tiny sigh of relief at the knowledge that he doesn't seem too upset by what just transpired. TK glances at him briefly, warming him with a smile, before turning back to Juan, expression sincere.

“You're right, I did miss out on that fish and I’m sorry to have wasted it. And- yeah, I wasted an evening with Carlos that night.”

The downcast look on TK’s face makes Carlos’ stomach flip uncomfortably. While they hadn’t spoken much about that evening - the unintentional barbs they’d hit each other with were still painful despite the time that had passed - they had discussed it and TK had been apologetic and regretful about the way he’d left. And though they’re now long past it, and he knows that TK loves him more than anything, he also knows TK still feels guilty about hurting him. He squeezes TK’s hand where it’s held in his and when TK glances at him, the momentary sadness on his face is replaced with his lovely smile as he returns the motion, and TK turns back to Juan.

“Will you allow me to make it up to you, and to him? Have you got any red snapper today?” he asks, and Carlos can easily recognise TK’s puppy eyes expression, even when it’s not directed at him.

Juan continues to study TK for a moment, brow still furrowed and Carlos holds his breath, unsure whether TK has succeeded in placating his friend’s outrage. Eventually, though, Juan relaxes with a laugh. “I suppose that might make up for it.”

“Is that okay with you?” TK asks him and Carlos just grins, relieved that he’s not going to have to break up a fight between his unexpectedly protective friend and his boyfriend.

“Sounds good to me, although who’s going to be cooking this, hmm? ‘Cause I don’t think it’s going to be you,” Carlos teases, and TK makes a noise of indignation.

“I can help,” he grumbles, brow wrinkling into a slight scowl. Carlos chuckles and pulls him in gently to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Sure you can,” he says against TK’s lips before pulling back and returning to his surroundings to see an amused expression on Juan’s face.

“Are you two finished?” he asks dryly, one eyebrow cocked as he smirks at Carlos and Carlos can't stop the flush that floods his face. “Alright then, one red snapper for Carlos and his red snapper boy.”

Carlos snorts with laughter, and can’t help but laugh harder at the affronted expression on TK’s face, but soon TK is laughing too, and he looks so beautiful that Carlos can hardly catch his breath. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice Juan waving the wrapped fish at him until TK steps forward to take it instead. He blushes again at Juan’s evident enjoyment at his distraction and he shifts his feet slightly, unsure what to say.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your day, boys, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon,” Juan says, directing the last bit to TK, who nods with a smile.

“Thanks, Juan,” Carlos says, “we’ll see you soon.”

“You’d better, and make sure you don’t waste my fish this time!” He says and they wave goodbye with a laugh.

As they walk away, TK tugs Carlos’ hand slightly until they’re walking as close together as they can without falling over each other.

“So,” he says, “that was interesting.”

Carlos huffs a laugh. “He’s known me a long time. I didn’t realise he was quite so protective of me, though.”

TK hums, eyes on the ground in front of him. “I’m glad you have friends like that. You deserve to have people fighting for you.”

Carlos glances at him, trying to decipher what TK is saying. “I’m glad, too,” he says cautiously, pulling them both to a halt so he can look TK in the eyes.

“You know I’ll do that too?” TK says, voice earnest. “You’re everything to me, Carlos, and I will fight for you every minute of every day.”

“TK…” he breathes, unsure how to cope with this declaration. Part of him already knows this, they’re not shy about sharing how much they care for each other, but it still shocks him every time.

TK smiles, and presses a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Carlos grins back, giddy with emotion, “I love you too.” TK’s smile broadens.

“Let’s get the rest of these groceries and go home. You’ve got fish to cook.”

“I’ve got fish to cook, huh? Are you not helping anymore?” Carlos teases and TK scoffs.

“You want my help now? I’m needed, am I?”

“I’ll always need you, Ty.”

[collecting-stories]

Bake-off - JJ (Outer Banks)

Request: can you write something with jj where the reader bakes a lot :) i understand if not, but i bake a lot (especially pies, i’m rambling sorry!) and thought this would be cute

A/N: So, since it’s JJ the baking had to include weed. 😛

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

The tray of banana nut muffins sat on John B’s table, half eaten. It was long before Big John died that there was ever even a homemade birthday cake in the house, neither men having much luck in the kitchen. But the muffins didn’t belong to John B anyway, they were JJ’s, which was even more peculiar, according to Kiara. If the Routledge men were shit at baking than the Maybank’s had never even turned on an oven.  

“They’re a gift.” JJ shrugged, laying across the laz-e-boy on the porch and munching on one.  

“A gift?” That was more shocking than their existence. JJ didn’t really get gifts and definitely not baked goods.  

“Did you mow someone’s lawn?” Pope asked, reaching for the muffin only to have JJ Flop away from him at the last second.  

“You could say that.” He grinned, attempting and failing a wink.  

“Ew, JJ.” Kiara groaned and walked back into the living room, emerging a moment later with one, “oh my god they’re edibles.”

“What?” Pope asked.  

“There’s weed in them.”

“Yes there is.” JJ grinned, “I ate two last night and was cooked. It’s some good shit.”

“Is it your shit?” Kiara asked, taking a bite.  

“Obviously, I said it was good didn’t I? I got the best shit on the island Kie.” He replied.  

“I know you didn’t make them so who made them for you?”  

-

JJ was a purest, as he dramatically referred to it. He rolled his own joints, dried his own weed for vaping, and he didn’t do edibles. At least he didn’t until one of the guys in the kitchen at the hotel turned 21. A box of cookies sat on the counter in the kitchen, marked Andrew. Double chocolate-chocolate chip, according to Andrew, and packed with a enough weed to “have you cooked after half of it”.  

“They’re delicious man, you gotta try one.” Andrew had insisted.  

“I don’t do edibles.”  

“You’ll regret it.”

And naturally, being told that there was the possibility for regret was a guaranteed way to ensure JJ did something. His bizarre fear of missing out dictated that he have no regrets and so he took one and ate the whole thing right there in the kitchen. And it was good...it was so good it didn’t even taste like weed and he was two seconds from telling Andrew he’d been dupped when he felt the familiar ease settle over him.  

“Where’d you get these?” He asked, slipping three into a plastic bag and dropping them in his backpack.  

“That girl that works in the kids area.” Andrew shrugged.  

You were a glorified babysitter, in charge of occupying people’s toddlers while they went out to play golf or shop or go to the spa. Not the greatest job in the world but the kids were usually easily contained and the parents always tipped well.  

JJ knew you to see you, always wandering around with some kid or another attached to your hip, talking about Frozen or Descendants...he’d heard you duet a song from some Disney Channel movie with one of the little girls just last week. It made you seem a bit green honestly. He couldn’t imagine you doing anything less than innocent, especially making your own edibles.  

He waited until after his shift to look for you, still wearing his white button up and vest but with his cargo shorts back on. You were outside supervising and participating in a game of soccer with a handful of eight year olds.  

“Hey,” he called, waving to you as he walked up. You tossed the soccer ball back into the makeshift field and turned toward JJ, “Andrew said you made him those cookies, for his birthday.”  

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, “I know he doesn’t like to smoke so...”  

“Could you make me some?”  

“Sure, what flavor?” You turned away for a moment to make sure all five of your children were still actively playing soccer and JJ took the opportunity to check you out. Your t-shirt advertised the hotel and hung loose on you. Shorts and a pair of running shoes completed the look and he was appreciative for the view of your legs.  

“Chocolate peanut butter.” JJ decided.

-

Chocolate peanut butter cookies, snickerdoodles, brownies, blondies, coffee cake, you and JJ had slowly formed a friendship built on experimental edible recipes. He supplied the weed and you made him whatever baked goods he could think up. He had even downloaded the Tasty app and Pinterest for the sake of finding new desserts for you to tackle.  

“So this girl just makes you whatever you want?” Kiara asked the next time a container of cookies appeared at John B’s house. Sugar cookies, with piped on icing that made them look like beach balls.  

“It’s business Kie. I supply the weed from my cousin, she makes the edibles. We sell them too, it’s a very lucrative business.” JJ replied, eyes closed, laying in the hammock outside John B’s while he smoked.  

Kiara was munching on a sugar cookie. She wasn’t really complaining about the edibles, her mom had been on her lately about the possibility of her smoking and the edibles were easier to hide. Especially because yours didn’t smell half as bad as some she’d had in the past. Mostly she was just curious about this girl that JJ was spending time with. He acted like it was casual but Kiara had known him for a long time and she knew JJ lacked the ability to hang out with a girl casually. Even they toed the line sometimes.  

“So when can we meet your esteemed business partner?” Kiara asked.  

“What?” JJ rolled his head to the side to look over at her, pushing his sunglasses down his nose. “Why do you wanna meet her?”

“Why don’t you want us to meet her?” She countered.  

“I don’t care. You can meet her.” JJ replied, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. He couldn’t fool Kiara and he knew that but that didn’t stop him from trying. He didn’t want you to meet his friends, mainly because he liked having you all to himself. It meant your attention wasn’t divided four ways.  

-

“These are burnt on the bottom.” You commented, sitting on the kitchen island beside a cooling rack of peanut butter cookies. The peanut butter was JJ’s favorite though you usually didn’t make them because of allergies.  

“They’re fine.” JJ replied, munching on a cookie while he scrolled through tiktok. You rolled your eyes at him and held one up, turning it over to inspect the nearly black bottom of the cookie. JJ had sworn that he would keep an eye on them while you left to talk to your mom on the phone but he’d let the buzzer go two minutes before he finally took it out.

“At least you’re the only one eating them.” You remarked, taking a bite of the one in your hands. You scrunched up your nose at the taste of burnt cookie, “the high better be worth it.”  

JJ put his phone down, pushing off the counter so that he could come over and stand in front of you. You raised an eyebrow as JJ moved your knees apart so that he could stand between your legs. He opened his mouth, letting out an ‘ahh’ and you rolled your eyes at him as you placed the burnt peanut butter cookie in his mouth.  

“It’s burnt.” You reiterated, watching him chew the cookie. You had discovered that JJ could pace himself far better with a blunt than he could a batch of cookies. He’d eat three in a row and get cooked, an unusual occurrence for him. You ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “Your hair is so greasy it literally stands up on its own.” You teased.

“I washed it!”  

“The last time you went in the ocean does not count as a bath.” You replied. You continued to play with his hair as he leaned closer to you, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.  

“You have off tomorrow?” JJ asked, still munching on his cookie.

“Yeah but my mom’s home all day.” You replied.  

The experimental creating of edibles had led to a friendship and then a something in between. You weren’t quite ready to call JJ your boyfriend but you certainly weren’t entertaining the idea of anyone else. He spent all his time at your house when he wasn’t with his friends or working. Even when your mom was home and there was no baking, he hung around. At work he sought you out throughout the day, more than once crashing whatever activity you were doing with your kids.  

“I was thinking you could come out on the boat with us.” JJ said. He was determined, now that he’d told Kiara he would, to introduce you to everyone. It certainly didn’t mean that he was planning on giving up his alone time with you but he’d concede to Kiara this time. “My friends wanna meet you.”

“Okay, I’d like that.” You replied, smiling at the implication that he was introducing you to his friends, “but I’m making them better cookies cause these are burnt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“No but there’s something wrong with me for trusting you to watch the oven.” You said.  

His eyes opened and he pouted at you. “I’m very responsible.”

“I know babe.”  

-

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