#though it's probably not at its best if you're actually drinking it

[friend-crow]

Me: I don't know where to find vegan wine that isn't expensive so I can make this dish for Friendsgiving vegan...

Me, about 2 minutes later: Oh... the wine that I already have and typically use for cooking is vegan.

[goldfades]

more luke hughes fics im literally on my knees

i haven't written for baby luke in forever and since i am deathly ill, here is a little fic about being sick.

Luke Hughes is dying.

At least, that's what he claims, his voice scratchy with dramatic flair as he groans from the depths of your bed—not his bed, of course, because apparently yours is "infinitely more comfortable." Never mind that his mattress is practically brand new, or that he has a fancy memory foam pillow that cost more than your monthly grocery bill. No, according to Luke, your slightly lumpy, average, definitely-not-fancy bed holds some magical, restorative quality that his can't compete with. He's staked his claim, a tangle of long limbs and disheveled blankets, looking like the tragic hero of his own melodramatic play.

You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the heap of misery that is your boyfriend. His hoodie is bunched up around his waist, revealing a sliver of pale skin, and his nose is an impressive shade of pink. A tissue dangles precariously from his hand, and a mountain of its crumpled comrades litters the floor beside him like the aftermath of a very soft, very sneezy battle.

"I think I'm dying," Luke mumbles, voice thick with congestion, like he’s auditioning for the role of Most Pathetic Human Alive.

"You're not dying," you reply, deadpan. "You have a cold."

He sniffles dramatically, pulling the blanket up over his head with the kind of effort that suggests he's lifting a thousand-pound weight. "It's worse than a cold. It's, like, a super cold. A mega cold."

You roll your eyes, but there's an undeniable fondness tucked between the sarcasm and sighs. Crossing the room, you perch on the edge of the bed, nudging his burrito-shaped form with your elbow. "Did the super cold steal your ability to get up and drink water? Because there's a glass on the nightstand that's been sitting there since this morning."

A muffled, tragic noise emerges from under the blanket. "It tastes better when you bring it to me."

Of course it does.

You sigh, not because you're annoyed, but because this is Luke—your Luke. And if he wants to be a big, whiny baby about his "super cold," you can let him have this one. Grabbing the glass, you shift closer, lifting his blanket just enough to see his pouty, flushed face peeking out.

"Here, Your Highness," you say, gently pressing the cool glass to his hands. He takes it with exaggerated gratitude, like you've just fetched him water from the Fountain of Youth.

"You're the best," he croaks dramatically, taking a small sip as if it's his last.

You brush his messy hair off his damp forehead, the affection slipping through without resistance. "Anything else for the dying man? Grapes? A cool cloth? A lullaby?"

His eyes, glassy from the congestion, brighten a little. "A cuddle might help. For medicinal purposes."

You chuckle softly, sliding under the covers beside him. He immediately drapes himself over you, all heavy limbs and needy warmth, burying his face into your neck with a satisfied sigh.

"Definitely medicinal," he mumbles, already sounding less miserable.

And even though he’s sniffly and probably spreading his germs, you let him.

A few minutes pass, filled with his occasional sniffles and dramatic sighs. Then, with a pitiful groan, he mumbles, "I might never recover. This could be it for me."

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, the corners of your mouth twitching. "Oh no, what will the world do without Luke Hughes?"

"It'll be a darker place," he whispers, clutching your arm weakly, as if this is his final goodbye. "Tell my story. Be brave."

You snort, unable to hold it in any longer. "I'll make sure they build a statue in your honor. Right in the middle of the living room."

He peeks up at you with glassy, puppy-dog eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the act. "Make sure it’s life-sized. Actually, bigger. Like, heroic proportions."

"Naturally," you reply, stroking his hair with mock seriousness. "Anything for the hero of our time."

And even though he's being ridiculous, you don't mind. Because he's your ridiculous, dramatic, oversized baby—and you love him for it.

A week later, the universe proves it has a twisted sense of humor.

You’re bundled on the couch, tissues piled around you in a sad, crumpled fortress, your head pounding and nose stuffy—an exact, miserable mirror of Luke’s performance from last week. The only difference? You’re not nearly as dramatic. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Luke, on the other hand, is thriving. Not because you’re sick—though he does seem a little too smug about it—but because he’s now fully recovered and basking in the role reversal with alarming enthusiasm.

He saunters into the living room, wearing that infuriatingly healthy glow, hair tousled perfectly like he’s in a shampoo commercial. He’s holding a cup of tea with both hands, an exaggerated look of sympathy plastered on his face.

“Aww, look at my poor, sick baby,” he coos, crouching beside you and tucking the blanket around your shoulders like you’re fragile glass. “Is this what it felt like when I was dying?”

You glare at him, voice raspy as you croak, “You weren’t dying.”

“Oh, I was,” he insists dramatically, setting the tea down with the flair of someone performing a sacred ritual. “But unlike some people, I didn’t complain.”

You snort, which unfortunately turns into a cough. Luke pats your back with an over-the-top gentleness, like he’s comforting a Victorian child with consumption.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, brushing your hair off your clammy forehead with mock tenderness. “I’ll tell your story. Be brave.”

You weakly smack his arm, but the grin on your face betrays you.

[thepitlanepress]

I DON'T LIKE IT –

↳ lando norris + bestfriend!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: im actually in a lando phase (maybe its bc i f1 is gone for months) but its effecting me so much so im blessing you all with JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE LANDOOOO AHHEHE. merry christmas my lovelies <33 (also if this is bad im sorry i was extremely tired when i wrote this lol)

usually you don't like going out with lando. the clubs, partying, drinking it wasn't exactly your scene.

so when he insists you come out with him to celebrate the constructors championship, you can't exactly say no. hence, the short fitting black dress, and nicely done, hair and makeup that you've put on. when you go out, you go out, it just doesn't happen very often.

"are you nearly done?" lando's voice calls out from the living room as he waits for you.

"yeah, i'm coming now," you call back, walking down the stairs and mentally preparing yourself to talk and interact with people.

you grab the car keys off the small table in the hallway and make your way into the living room your footsteps announcing your presence to lando, he turns around and slightly falters in his movements when he sees you.

"uh, wow, okay," he says looking you up and down slowly, his eyes raking over your body.

"what?" your brows bunch and you look down at your outfit. "i thought it looked good, is there something wrong?"

"uh... no, no, you look amazing, i just wasn't expecting you to look so nic-"

"you weren't expecting me to look nice?" you raise your voice playfully.

"no, no, no i- uh- no- look... shit," lando mutters looking down and shaking his head. "you look amazing, seriously. i just forgot how well you can pull off a black dress."

you smile, and chuck the keys towards him, "i can pull off anything lando norris, even you. and that's not something everybody can do." you wink and walk back out through the hallway to the car.

"you can pull off me?"

"yeah, not every girl can have lando norris on her arm and still be the centre of attention. there are perks to being your best friend you know."

"and there are perks to being yours," lando says unlocking the car and sliding into the drivers seat. you feel the safest when he's driving, always trusting him when he's behind the wheel.

"oh really?" you ask looking over at him. "like what?"

"you," he murmurs backing out of the driveway. you don't hear him though, too distracted by a text you received from your sister.

–––

he didn't like it, you could tell. was it the murderous looks he was sending in the direction of the guy's - who's name you've already forgotten - or was it the looks he was sending you, heated and something else? both probably.

he wasn't even focused on the crowd around him dancing and drinking their nights away.

when the guy started getting too handsy that is when you felt lando's hand wrap around your waist and causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach - which you promptly ignored.

"leave her alone, mate. she's mine," lando's voice comes out harsh his anger directed towards the man who steps back apologising - typical of him to only step back when another man steps in.

"oh sorry, i didn't know," he slurs and walks off, most likely to go puke in some poor person's handbag.

you're about to spin around in lando's arms and thank him for rescuing you but you stop short at the expression on his face. "what?" you look down at your outfit. "is it the same thing from earlier? what's wrong?"

"i don't like it."

"don't like what?" you ask furrowing your brows.

"when other people touch you," he responds quietly his voice low and tempting. thats new.

"oh," you reply slightly dumbfounded. in all your years of knowing lando norris you've always had hidden feelings for him, sure there were points when said feelings were buried deep deep down, but they were always there.

and you always thought they were never reciprocated but they way lando is looking at you right now is... something new. something you like... a lot.

"i don't like people thinking they can just touch you. they can't. because you're mine not theirs. you're my best friend. you're my person. you're not theirs to touch or hold or flirt with, because you're mine."

his arms tighten around your waist as if he's expecting you to run away at any moment.

"oh my," you breathe. "i don't know what to say."

"tell me you feel the same way, tell me that i can be yours, because you're mine, and i'm not letting you go anytime soon."

"possessive are we?" you chuckle trying to diffuse the tension because he's probably drunk, he's going to wake up in the morning and apologise about this insisting he doesn't know what he was talking about and how sorry he was.

its happened so many times before.

your heart gets crushed every time. so you don't go out with him to avoid it.

but tonight this feels different.

"i haven't had a sip of alcohol tonight, this is the most clearheaded i've ever been in a long time... please talk to me."

"lando," you whisper. your heart is teetering on the edge of being shattered to pieces and finally telling the truth. you're walking a thin line between the two hoping to fall on the right side. "i don't want this to be like those other times when you wake up in the morning apologising for what you say."

"i never meant those apologies. i remember all those nights, i lied," he breathes swaying with you to the music. "i freaked out in the morning because you would always want to talk about what happened, and your face was always so distrusting so i shut it down pretending i didn't know what happened."

"really?" you're tilting on the line, swaying from side to side waiting for the words that are going to make or break you.

"really. i've been in love with you ever since the day you stopped to pick a flower that reminded you of me."

"lando," you give him a look. "that was like the second time we met."

"and i've been yours ever since." he smiles at you, his eyes filled with clear adoration, which quickly turns to a pissed off look when someone steps up behind you and asks for a dance. "piss off mate, we're clearly talking."

you smile and don't even bother to look back at the man, everything you've ever wanted is standing in front of you and offering himself on a platter for you. and you're tired, so tired of staying on the ledge between friends and more,

so you take the leap.

pulling him imperceptibly closer you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly whispering in his ear, "i'm yours too."

you can physically feel his body relax and mold around yours - a perfect fit of course.

if you fall, it will hurt for sure, but this moment, right now; flying with him, together, will be worth it if you do.

2024 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

[l0vergirls]

just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

[aionishoh]

shortly after this post,,

THE EUROPEAN TRIO PT2

micheal kaiser, itoshi sae x f!reader

—

Living with these two weren't easy. 1, you usually have three to two arguments with eachother, and 2, you all have to fight off a wave of relationship and poly allegations.

But that doesn't mean you all dont talk to eachother.

This evening, everyone was chilling. Kaiser was staring at the ceiling without a thought in his mind. Sae was scrolling on his phone, probably on twitter and you were laying on the floor, watching TikTok.

While doomscrolling, you found across a Kaiser edit with a german audio, and since you're with the real deal, you asked him how feels about it.

"Yo, nazi guy. Theres another trash in my for you."

"Damn, i look good. I wish they'd stop using fuhrer as the audio though."

Sae looked up from the German word and went back to scrolling while you were there staring him. "Using what?"

"Fuhrer." He said again, looking at your dumbfounded reaction. "Fire?" "Fuh-RER."

"Oh,"

"You're not gonna pronounce it?"

"...no."

"Its fuhrer," Sae spoke up out of nowhere, joining in the conversation while still glued to the screen.

"See? At least he gets how to pronounce it, you try."

You flipped both of them off before trying to actually pronounce it yourself.

Kaiser laughed at each failed attempts. "Du bist erbärmlich darin!"

(You're pathetic at this!)

"Oh tais-toi, au moins mon pays n'a pas provoqué de guerre mondiale." You spat back.

(Oh shut up, at least my country didn't start a world war.)

"How come your accent changes so much when you speak French?" Sae asked, finally putting down his phone and looking at you.

"What? You think all french people have those 'qui qui croissant' accent when they speak english?" You said, mimicking the way people think they sound like.

"No estoy diciendo eso." He sighed, rubbing his head.

(I didn't say that.)

"All i heard was Encanto," "Isn't that a puerto-rican/Portuguese animation-" "BLAHBLAH."

The rest of the hours spent with the three of you trying to learn some bits of eachother's language.

"Ah so, A diferencia del japonés, no hay palabras formales ni informales?" You said, slowly saying each syllable. Your accent mixing in with the Spanish.

(Ah so, unlike Japanese, theres no formal and casual words?)

Sae nodded, clearly enjoyed that you learned some of his lessons.

"Boo, when are yall gonna speak german." Kaiser said, slumping in his seat. "German is hard to learn, all we know is Scheiße and Schwächling." Sae bit back.

(Fuck and Weakling)

"Most english words are derived from French, so i'm clearly the best. je suis incroyable." You said, throwing your hair back dramatically.

(Im amazing)

"Tendrás que enseñarnos palabras reales, Kaiser." You said, getting used to a bit more words.

"Je suis d'accord." Sae added.

(You're gonna have to teach us some real words, Kaiser.)

(I agree.)

Micheal looked at the two of you in disbelief. "What, did you two exchange nationalität or something?"

(nationality)

– Bonus 😋

You passed out on the floor with a pillow and blanket and you woke up with two men talking.

"Creo que el Mundial 11 muss die mitglieder wechseln.“ Sae said, drinking black coffee.

(🇪🇸/🇩🇪: I think World 11 will have to change members.)

"Nein, ich glaube es nicht, afterall, estamos aquí."

(🇩🇪/🇪🇸: No, i dont think so. Afterall, we're here.)

You, still having morning foggy brain and completely confused by their words and unaware it was both German and Spanish, you could only say seven words:

"Are you two doing a fucking ritual-"

TGLT: — @mmondiz .

[mtsyik]

Bathroom break

~》 Pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

~》 working the night/ early shift at your local bakery seemed like a dream that came true. You didn't assume that another dream of yours, meeting a cute pro hero, would also come true.

The streets are quiet, the sky is still dark, and the piles upon piles of bread in the wooden ovens are baking in the back of the bakery. You wipe some of the remaining flour on your apron off of you, sighing as you start to organize the clutter in the kitchen. The aroma of the bread together with the cookies you made earlier makes the atmosphere serene, and you hum to a song that has been stuck to your head as you make your way to the front of the shop.

The clock beside you ticks as the bird the inside emerges at the 12 o clock mark. You're startled and let out a yelp as you check your watch for the actual time, 5:03. You really ought to fix that damn clock. You are then awfully reminded of your bladder and how full it is, and you clench your legs to relieve some of the pressure. Why did you drink so much water to begin with?

You move instead to neatly arrange the cookies and pastries in the showcase, moving with grace (almost dropping a dozen cookies on the flour covered floor and grabbing the tray at the last second).

You check your watch again and groan at the fact that you still have 50 minutes until your coworker arrives, meaning your bathroom break has to be pushed back by a lot. You spend your time double and triple checking all the baked goods from the showcase, sweeping some flour from the floor and from the counter, and sitting and enjoying the brown paints of the shop. The hardwood floors are by far your favorite feature you decide, and the vintage lambs that emit yellow light at each side of the small couch on the far left of the bakery. You observe these things to pass your time more easily; trying not to be on your phone this early in the morning. You move to reach a blueberry cupcake to chew on while you wait; the blue jello from its top making your mouth water as you bring it in closer to your awaiting mouth.

Suddenly, the bell from the door rings.

You are surprised to see someone up at this hour. You are even more surprised when a familiar but unknown stranger walks in your bakery, with stained clothes from battle and faint scratches on his body. His white and red hair mixed as the strands are in disarray from fighting some villain you presume; as handsome as he looks on the cover of the magazine you have laying somewhere in your apartment.

Having just finished patrol, Shoto couldn't help but be overwhelmed at the captivating aroma of baked goods when walking down the street. He looked a mess; uniform raggedy and tragic, hair tousled and fingertips covered in dirt. The tiredness in his bones made it easy to forget his physical appearance for a second, deciding on fulfilling his empty stomach instead, until he spots you.

Holding a blueberry pastry upside down, (probably to keep it from falling) the blue paste smothering your hands and staining them with jello. Streaks of flour on your cheek and forehead, your hair neatly out of your face save from a few strands that managed to escape. Your apron screamed messy, multiple strains of blue, red and white fillings, together with flour and what he presumed to be cocoa. He couldn't decide which one of you was more disastrous looking right now.

He could decide which one was prettier than any other woman he had seen, though.

"Um, hi" you mumble, a sweet smile on your face as he makes his way to you. You gulp nervously when the pro hero doesn't take his eyes off of you for a second, analyzing you as if you were some villain he had to capture. You try your best to discreetly clench your legs together, your bladder screaming at you in protest. You put on your best smile to pretend that nothing is bothering you, and wipe your hands on a napkin to remove the blue jello from them from the cupcake that fell right out of your hands from the ringing of the bell.

"Hello. what's that?" He says in a timid fashion, his eyes boring into the red velvet pastry on the very back of the showcase. You giggle a little, mostly from anxiety and point to the pastry while explaining its filling. You do the same for every other pastry, even though he didn't ask you to.

"And that's carrot cake, but with a twist! The cinnamon on in- oh" you stop abruptly from his intense stare on you, a small smile on his face as if wanting to laugh at your antics. You realize how you look right now; messy from the hours of preparation, gesturing with your hands at every little thing and clenching your legs together to not pee yourself right on the spot. Great. Amazing first impression.

"I think I'll go with the red velvet one." He says in a monotonous voice, his words dripping with honey from the rich timber of his voice. You think you could just melt from that alone. Instead, you purse your lips in an attempt to save face as your cheeks flare up, and bag up the pastry. After he pays he stops momentarily as you close the register and wipe off some sweat from your forehead.

"Are you alright?" He asks, and you almost lose your balance right then and there. You huff and puff, eyes shut as you lean against the counter.

"I uh, I just.. really need to go to the bathroom right now." You wheez out, as an attempt to laugh to humor your demise.

"Why don't you... go?" Shoto seems uncertain on his choice of words, not wanting to offend you with them.

"Uh, I would, but I'm alone. The bathroom is all the way in the back, if uh, if someone came in they could, y'know..."

You ramble on, your cheeks flaring up even more as his heterochromatic eyes settle on you and his mouth shapes into an 'o'.

"Okay." He says and stands still. His arms resting at his pockets as he turns his back on you and leans against the counter, his stare up ahead at the door.

You blink, not knowing how to respond at his sudden change. Your eyebrows furrow as he checks you over his shoulder. "I'll stay until you go." And looks at the front again.

You blink back your surprise, your hand reaching out in a stopping motion. "No- uh it's fine, I don't want to keep you waiting-"

He looks at you again then, and you gulp. His expression is calm and collected, and he nods at you. "I don't mind."

You bite back your tongue at that, wanting to refuse to save some of your pride, but instead you yell out a thank you! From the hall as you speed walk your way to the bathroom. You try to be as quick as possible, not wanting to keep him waiting for long.

Shoto has no problem waiting, his eyes scanning and observing every small crevice of the shop. The colors are warm and inviting; a pallet of warm and brown pastels mixing with each other under the yellow lighting. The bakery is decorated with vintage lamps and an awfully old couch that gives a nice homey feeling about the entire situation. Not that the lumpy couch or the warm lighting was the thing that would invite him inside every single time. That would be you.

He keeps his promise and waits for you to come back, his stare on you as he hears your footsteps coming in close. You're wiping your hands on a towel, cheek and forehead free of flour and hair a little less messier; you fixed yourself in the mirror. You sigh as you lean against the counter, gratitude coming to you is waves as he removes himself from where he was leaning and turning to face you.

"Thank you. God that is embarrassing." You mumble with a chuckle as you smile widely at the floor, your hand cradling your cheeks. Shoto nods and grabs his pastry before heading out the door. You stare dumbfounded at it, daydreaming about the handsome stranger -was he even a stranger now- that helped you in the most stupid way imaginable. You laugh genuinely at the absurdity of it, a pro hero saving your ass from- your bladder exploding?

Your eyes snap open when the clock ticks loudly again, breaking you out of your daze. The sun has started to come up, and after some time, so does your coworker.

"Goodmorning! Alright, I am here! You can go to the bathroom now!" Asuka yells the minute she opens the door, expecting you to dash towards the hallway the minute she does so like you usually do.

"Already been," you reply, a small smile on your face as you move the red velvet pasties to the front of the showcase.

The next day, your morning starts like any other. Open up the bakery, start on the baked goods, and set up the showcase. You tend to make quite the mess when you bake (something Asuka finds deeply endearing. You find it annoying because you have to clean up after), so you've added sweeping to the list of things to do when you're opening.

You hum along to the crack of the radio, a soft jazz song playing on the old speakers, making the music brass, and almost nostalgic like. Just the way you like it. Your apron is sitting prettily on your waist and your hair swaying back and forth from the French braids you've done this morning, somehow having woken up with rather excited. Oh, well. The bags of corn flour are to be delivered today, that's probably why. Not the 2 meter tall, handsome guy hero that helped you yesterday.

Nope. Definitely not him.

Your heart jumps at your throat from the coo cooing of the stupid bird emerging from the broken clock, and your broom almost hits the floor, your hand reaching out to grasp unto it. You are a second too late, and you close your eyes as if to wipe out the loud plop! That will sound all over the bakery when a hand interrupts you. Shoto grabs the broom and sets it down as soon as you open your eyes, your irises widening and your mouth forming a small greeting as you take him in.

The entire night went horribly. His patrol had taken on the entire city, it seemed like, with him only being able to be at one place at a time. Multiple robberies and petty thieves emerging from nowhere, stupid calls about cats being stuck on trees and yo-yo's being stuck underneath cars. The disaster of the night had weighted heavy on Shoto's shoulders. Every step he took was another added burden; hs hair was filled with leaves, his cheek and arm stained with dirt, and you spotted numerous scratches on his forearms (probably the resistance of said cats).

And now, under the yellow lights, being close to you, with your hair neatly swaying and your eyed wide from embarrassment, he thinks he looks hideous.

You think he looks gorgeous, even like this. And quite cute. You could eat him up right out of a spoon if it were given to you.

"Hello. Are you well?" He asks, his voice rich of timbers as it shakes something well nested inside of you. Shoto himself winces at his choice of words, knowing that whenever he felt flushed he started to sound like a robot.

You smile sweetly at him, reassuring him you're okay before moving to grab the broom out of his hands with a polite bow to make your way behind the counter. You gulp down nervously some sips from the water bottle you have on stand by, and look at him with a bright (but very pink) face.

"I assume you liked the pastry from yesterday, y'know- because you're here...today?" You stumble out, your hands raising in an expressive manner as you try to figure out what exactly you want to say. You think this encounter is awful, just as awkward as the other day, but the easy grin that Shoto has on his face melts any doubts.

"Um- figured I'd try that carrot cake twist you were telling me about? With the cinnamon?"

Your eyes almost budge out of their sockets as you recall the memories from yesterday, remembering the vocal diarrhea that had spurred out of your mouth. Your heart hammers a little in your chest though, at the fact that he was listening to you.

"Sure thing!" You yelp out as you move carefully to bag the pastry and serve it to him. He reaches for something to pay, but is stopped by you.

"No, it's fine. You helped with the- uh- broom." You nod, more to reassure yourself than him as he blinks at you with surprise.

"By...grabbing it?" He questions you, and you think you could just eradicate yourself from existence from his gaze.

"Well, yeah." You mutter, as monotone as him. You both stay silent for a beat longer than you have to, and you see him hesitate as he eye's the pastry. You sigh as you reach over the counter and slide it to him.

"It's rude not to accept a kind gesture." You say with a teasing tone, but Shoto seems to be taking you seriously. He grabs the pastry, and you turn around to continue sweeping. You notice him standing right where he was though.

"Uhhh"

"What's your name?" He asks, as if it's the most casual question ever. Well, it is.

"I'm Shoto Todoroki." He adds after you introduce yourself, and you giggle.

"Yeah, I know." You say with a smile, but the immediate frown on his face makes you stop.

"Not that I uh- I mean I've heard about you. Handsome hero swinging around, saving everyone. " you bite back your tongue, slap yourself on your knee as you stare into your right to distract yourself from him. You feel your cheeks burning up from your silent (rather loud) confession and let out a low whistle.

"I don't...swing." He mumbles, mostly to himself.

You blink, looking at him with a silly expression while your body was still turned against him. You turn quickly and face him completely, matching his tone as you explain.

"It's a figure of speech. I- I didn't mean it like that, " you say with a small grin on your face. This entire interaction is downright adorable in your eyes.

He mumbles an oh, his eyebrows shooting slightly up as he glances at the counter. You cover your mouth with your hand to hide your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

At that moment, with the yellow lighting casting an ethereal glow on your tied back hair, the sparkle in your eyes, together with the sound of your laughter convinced Shoto that if he had to relive this entire day for the rest of his life, only to be able to hear and see you laugh like this, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He cleared his throat as he watched your eyes slightly widen, probably from the red in his cheeks-

"You're um- you're burning!"

At that moment, the faint smell of burned hair reached Shoto, and he instinctivaly reached for his left side to try to pat out the fire.

You were panicking, almost reaching for your cup to dump water on him as he put the fire out in his hair. One moment, he was looking at you; the next, he was on fire. Literally

"Thank you," shoto says hurriedly, bowing at a near 90° angle before making his exit from the shop. You stand there frozen, cup in hand with the motion of throwing it at someone rather than attempting to help somebody.

The loud clock ticks and startles you, making you actually drop your cup filled with water on your apron and on the floor. You yelp and a few cuss words ring out of you from the sudden action. Not being able to believe what has happened in the span of a couple of minutes. You sigh loudly, biting your lip as you scan the shop.

Had he been...flustered?

"Girl you won't believe who just walked out of our shop and- whoa." Asuka stops in her tracks as she makes her way behind the counter, witnessing you drenched with water from the waist down. She lets out a low whistle while grinning.

"Guessing he didn't stick around for you to pee this time, huh?"

"Shut up."

[miusiz]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS.

genre / content best friend ! taesan x female reader, fluff, skinship warnings mentions of alcohol, cursing sypnosis after a long night, her best friend takes care of her and unbeknownst to him, awakes feelings wc 4.7k

The smell of cigarettes and vomit envelopes me as I step into what is probably one of the largest houses I've ever seen, much less been in.

Music is blaring through the speakers, so loud that I can barely hear anything else, but at least it's some decent songs they're playing. That seems to be the upside. I'm not sure I could survive tonight if I hated the music.

Though I was forced to come by my friend who thought it would be a great idea to get drunk together to try and get me to 'loosen up', I'm trying to find it in me to try and enjoy myself, so this is the opportunity to do so, even if I'm also forcing myself through it.

However, entering a party alone and without anyone by my side might have not been the best idea—I realize that quickly when I see two guys approaching me, clearly swaying in their step. Their smiles are friendly, but I'd rather not have an encounter with evidently intoxicated guys this early into my night.

I speed up my pace and walk in a half circle around them, even if their faces up closer seemed oddly familiar.

"Hey! Oh, where are you—"

"Hi! Hey, what—"

Their voices fade into the background as I approach a long, spacious hallway. I keep walking, red cups being dropped on the ground surrounding me and their sticky liquids soaking the carpet. Did the person living here not think to remove it if they were gonna throw a party?

Maybe they didn't care. Whoever lives here seems to be pretty damn rich. They could just get a new one.

I sigh, already fed up with everyone clashing into me, not watching their steps. "Watch where you're going!" Someone calls in my direction, and I ignore it—hard as it is after they slammed their shoulder into mine with no mercy. Or an apology, for that matter.

Me: Where the fuck are you?

It takes about thirty seconds until a response brightens the display.

J: Uh

J: A patio...

Spotting two glass doors, I open them, hoping they will take me where I so desperately need to be right now.

"Finally!" I hear as I do and am met with the sight of Jaehyun, somebody I consider a good friend, holding a bottle of beer in his hands—one that he's told me on multiple occasions that he doesn't like.

But no one really drinks beer for its taste, anyway.

"You made it! Sit down, we're not leaving early today."

Taking a seat beside Jaehyun, I spot a few other of our mutual friends, all having their drinks either beside or in front of them. We all eventually fall into conversation, and a bit later, I'm told to drink as much as I want.

Not that I need their encouragement.

I might be shitfaced, but I have no idea how much I have actually had to drink. When I am drunk, I have my moods. I always do. And tonight, I am quite giddy.

Without knowing how I even got here, I find myself dancing among the crowd. At first, I dance by myself, swaying and spinning and then I suddenly have a shorter guy in front of me, whose name I don't quite recall. He takes my hands, and I let him spin me himself, stupid as we might look.

We fall into a rhythm together, and my feet feel numb when I'm spun around once more, and I'm in the hold of somebody else.

This one is taller in comparison to the one before him, so much so that I have to crane my neck in order to look him in the eye. Everybody seems so familiar, like I know who these people are, not only by their faces but also their names, but nothing clicks.

He asks me something, and even though I don't quite understand it, I giggle at him. When I ask him to repeat himself, he does, and I'm pretty sure I giggle even harder in response.

"—already wanted to talk to you when you arrived," I hear him say. "Seemed in quite a hurry to get away from us, though." The guy winks, who might be Riwoo, or Sungho, or maybe Woonhak? Or maybe I'm wrong, and it's none of them at all.

I don't reply, instead stumbling into everyone in my vicinity, but not a single one of them notices.

The guy I'm dancing with after I switched—again—steps on my foot by accident. I'm pretty sure I hear him apologize, notice his lips move as he mouths the apology to me, but all I do is take his hands and let him guide me around the dance floor, as he is just a bit less drunk than I am.

Sungho, he tells me—the one who owns this house, as I learned earlier—and he seems to enjoy my company quite a bit, since he pulls me closer just so that our chests are bumping occasionally—and I let him, although I feel nothing when our bodies touch.

That might be exactly why.

Sungho keeps me from falling to the ground, steadying me each time I start to lose my balance, which makes me laugh, although I am not certain why.

After a few times of him saving me from face planting, he's not as quick anymore, and I nearly fall onto my back. That is, if someone behind me didn't steady me before that happened. Involuntarily, since I fell into them, but still.

Feeling a laugh bubble up once more, I turn around to thank whoever helped me, and come face to face with probably the only face I'd be able to recognize from miles away, even in my state.

"What's so funny?"

Him, with that stupid little grin on his face that I've grown to treasure whenever directed at me. And one that is capable of making me melt. Not that I'd ever tell him this, though.

Taesan. My friend. Best friend, actually. He glances at Sungho, then back at me. I'm still laughing, but he only tilts his head at me, only slightly smiling now.

I step closer to him, so that we're chest to chest—suddenly feeling all kinds of things—and wrap my arms around his middle. I can tell he doesn't expect it, because he stiffens very slightly, though he covers it up quite well, putting his arms around me, wrapping me in a tight hug.

My friends know that I'm not physical. They know me, so they also know that I would never get this close to anyone and be so thrilled about it, if I was sober.

But if there is one person they trust I can show this giddy, oddly affectionate, drunk version of myself to, it is him.

Precisely why not a single one of them has come up to us to get me out of here, although I both feel and see their eyes on me.

I'm dancing with my arms wrapped around him—as good as I can—as a way to postpone the inevitable. I know he came to me because he thinks I went just a little overboard with the alcohol tonight.

"How much did you have to drink?" he asks into my ear, attempting to make eye contact, and although he's quiet, I still catch it.

"Not much," I lie, not meeting his eyes, and he knows it, because he laughs at me in response. The sound is full, and I smile as well.

"You're such a liar," he whispers, taking my hands off his back. Sungho, still standing there, seems to be waiting, looking at me like he wants something from me. What could he possibly need?

"Thanks for your help until now," Taesan speaks, and I'm suddenly imagining him sounding almost cold? No, that can't be it, "but I'll take it from here, yeah?"

It nearly doesn't sound like a question. Did I really drink that much? So much so that it makes me imagine things?

My best friend turns his face to me, and grins at me so warmly, and it's so different from how he just spoke to Sungho that I start blushing. Blushing.

Blushing, too, is out of character for me, and it should especially be when it's me blushing for my best friend, who I've known for ages now. Since we were kids—but this is not the first nor the last time I've blushed for him.

He seems to bring out the unexpected sides of me.

And him being sober and attentive as it is, it's obvious he'd notice it. "Aww, she's blushing now? How sweet," he teases, and I feel my face getting even hotter. Then, not wasting any more time, he's taking my hand in his, slipping his fingers into mine, leading me away.

His grip is firm, but as quick as he was to hold it, I feel his palm slip from mine as someone pushes into my side.

They clash into me, hard, and I suddenly feel my bare leg being soaked. Part of my dress, too. All I can think: thank god I didn't wear my favorite pair of stockings today. And then: but I did wear my favorite dress.

I resist the urge to pout like a child, and suck it up. Or I try to. But I know it's showing on my face. From the corner of my eye, I catch Taesan's frown.

The guy doesn't apologize, instead pushing past me, mumbling something under his breath. Brushing past, he then proceeds to step on my foot, and I suppress a yell, but barely.

But I don't even acknowledge the guy that just poured his drink over me and accidentally hurt me—with no apology—just keep walking, but now I hear commotion behind me, and notice I don't see Taesan in front of me anymore.

The only thing I see as I turn around is my best friend pushing the same guy who shoved me, to the ground. He says something to him, but I don't quite catch it. From here, I can't see his face, and I wish he'd turn around.

Then, he comes right back to me, unbothered—leaving the other guy on the floor, wide-eyed—like a job got done. He stands right in front of me, blocking my view of everyone else, and puts his hand on my cheek.

"Where'd you park your car, love? I'm taking you home." It takes me a moment to realize the use of the pet name, although I should have already grown used to it. But I can't deny one thing: it still has an effect on me, nonetheless.

I realize then, absolutely not in the right state of mind, that I can never let him know that—that there is too many things I can never let him know.

Taesan's waiting for a response, but I feel too dizzy to answer, so I point to our right when we step into the cold night air, me gripping onto his hand as we do.

A sudden urge to save myself from embarrassment makes me mumble out, "But—I can drive myself, I swear," I'm not sure I even believe what I'm saying.

"Do you even believe that?" He smiles, reading my mind.

"Okay, but what about your car?"

He briefly touches the skin beneath my neck, shaking his head. "I'll get it later, just let me bring you home first, yeah?"

I'm still stumbling, holding onto his arm now to hold myself up, and he doesn't mind. In fact, I'm pretty certain he finds me amusing to look at.

Once we reach my car and he opens the door for me to step into, he pulls out a tissue. He looks down at me, and I know he's asking for permission. As soon as he gets it, he's reaching over to wipe my leg dry carefully.

I watch him as he does it for me, although I could likely do it myself, even in this condition.

"Sorry about your dress," he says quietly.

"Don't worry," I say in response, "I can always put it in the washer, can't I?"

I catch his smile before it's gone, replaced with an odd kind of look in his eyes. "Right. It'd be a shame if you couldn't wear that dress anymore." And then, "It happens to be my favorite one of yours."

Glad he doesn't give me a chance to react or answer, he closes my door carefully and walks over to the driver's seat.

My own playlist drowns out the one from the house I've just spent hours dancing and drinking in, and as he begins to drive us to our destination, I finally get the chance to give in to the exhaustion and close my eyes.

I abruptly wake up when the car stops, and my eyes open slowly. I catch my best friend staring at me, and I meet his eyes, even if it's hard not to fall asleep right here, yet again.

I can't stop the smile when he carefully intertwines our fingers, and he can't either. "We're here," he whispers.

He'll walk me to my house and then leave once he's made sure I'm okay and sobering up, but for some reason, I don't even want him to leave. God, I really need to control myself at parties. Drinking so much has really turned me stupid and unreasonable.

Not crossing the line between friendship and love has never been a problem before, and tonight is about to put an end to that. I'm not sure if I want that.

Taesan likely assumes my silence is a result of being ... plastered, when in reality, I'd feel oddly sober if it wasn't for my wobbly legs. Stepping out of the car, it isn't long until he opens the door beside me, unbuckling my seat belt for me.

The next thing I know, I'm being carried in the air, right in his arms, and he heads in my house's direction.

We have done this so many times before that I'm not scared at all of falling. Maybe only of a ... different kind of falling.

Perhaps I'm very, very lonely. Maybe that's it. Why else would I suddenly be feeling things that I have never felt before, for someone that has been in my life ever since I can remember?

I find myself questioning this while he takes me up the stairs leading to my home. I have never felt this before, have I?

"You okay?" he asks. I open my eyes, not having noticed that I'd closed them. "Sleepy," I whisper.

He grins down at me, sincerity in his eyes. It's always stayed there, never dimmed. Not since I've known him. Maybe it's that I like most about him. He is honest, and he is kind. There's not a single thing about him that is not genuine.

"You'll sleep soon, love."

I nod against his chest, and my eyes close involuntarily.

The next time I wake, it's with him setting me on my bed, and I listen to him shuffle in my drawers, picking out my pyjamas and putting them beside me.

Giving him the keys to my house keeps proving itself as a great choice.

"Let me get you some water," he says, and I stand and quickly get out of my dress, the wet spot in it being near unbearable. I run to the bathroom, and when I step out of it, I enjoy the feel of my pyjamas on my skin.

When he comes back with a water bottle and a glass in his hands, I just take the bottle, putting it to my mouth and downing most of it immediately.

"Looks like you needed that."

This might be the least of what I need right now. My newly discovered feelings for him are confusing and scary, and I have no idea what to do about them. I don't know if maybe they're going to ruin the only thing that has ever been consistent in my life.

He sits beside me, hand falling to mine on my side. I notice that it doesn't go further than that. He doesn't squeeze it, doesn't even hold it. He simply rests it on top of mine.

The touch is so warm and inviting that I turn my hand to slip it into his, grip firm, scared he'll want to let go.

But when all he does is squeeze back and look at me in a kind of pleasant surprise, I ask.

"Do you want to stay the night?"

There is one thing that's quite important for context here.

He has not slept over at my house since we were fourteen years old. Scratch that, probably even twelve. Not since the concept of little boyfriends and girlfriends came into the picture, and our parents decided against it. Becoming older, that didn't change. Perhaps we'd gotten used to it by then.

He's always taken care of me and made sure I was safe and happy, but for him (or me) to stay the night was a line we decided not to cross.

Until now.

I expect him to look shocked, perhaps a little freaked out, even? I have no idea what to expect. But when I look up at him—a cute little grin plastered there, right on his face.

"I'll stay if you'd like me to. You're still tipsy, perhaps it's better if I'm close tonight," he says, standing, and I'm imagining things yet again, this time a nervous quiver to his voice.

"And I'll sleep on the couch, but I'll keep the door to the living room open, yeah? Just come to me for whatever you need."

I can't help but feel disappointment over the fact that he's not even sleeping in the same room, but I know that he's doing that mostly because he doesn't know how drunk I still am. He's doing it for me. I barely feel any remnants of the alcohol at all when I think about how warm and kind and understanding he's been to me, all night, all of our lives.

Although he's never slept here, he does have some of his clothes stored in my closet, and he takes them before he makes his way to me.

"Sleep well." His hand goes to my cheek, touch soft. His fingers move across the side of my face in a caress. I don't even think he takes notice of this, but I don't stop him.

If him telling me good night will always be like this, I'd let him stay here every night.

His gaze roams across my face, eyes alight. "You look so pretty. You always do. And I've always thought so," he says, an admission that leaves me feeling everything at once.

My shock likely written all over my face, he tilts my head upward, kisses my nose, just once, and leaves.

I feel a sort of emptiness as I lay in the same spot as I've been in for a long, long time. Definitely hours. It has to be morning now. The feeling surprises me, but most of all, it confuses me.

Never have I not been fine being in bed on my own, wrapped in my sheets with no one beside me to hold, have never wanted anyones comfort as I drift to sleep.

I feel better now, my mind clearing. I'm left wondering whether everything I felt last night was just the alcohol, after all. The possibility occurs to me—that everything about this, all of these feelings and sensations, are simply fleeting—and it fills me both with hope and dread, the combination of those two conflicting.

Though I come to realize the dread overpowers the rest, and I'm up and out of my room before I can think about what I'm doing. I find him on the living room couch, watching what appears to be a documentary on the TV.

The blinds are still down, so it's still almost as dark as it was when we entered.

He only notices me when I sit beside him, startling at the realization of me being there. "You okay? How are you feeling?" he asks, and I pick up on his cautious tone.

"I'm alright. Not sure how much I slept, but I sure can't sleep now."

I pull my legs to my chest and stare at him, and he pats the empty space beside him—the space I'd originally left empty on purpose.

Still, I scoot over to him and don't object when he carefully puts his arm around my shoulders, fingers trailing up and down my upper arm, a motion that I doubt he's conscious of.

"And by the looks of it, you didn't sleep all that much either. You didn't drink, though. So what's keeping you up?" I ask.

I notice his eyes burning into me, but I stare ahead and let the question hang between us until he gives me an answer. "Not sure," he whispers. "Just had some trouble falling asleep tonight. Got a lot on my mind."

That makes two of us. "Well, I'm sorry for ruining the party for you." I didn't realize this when it happened, but I came to the realization earlier that I probably ruined a night out for him.

"You thinking I was there to 'party'," he smiles, "in the first place, is cute," he teases. "But Jaehyun called and said you were in desperate need of a ride. Since they had all drunk, none of them could do it. And well, he knew who to call."

He knew who to call. "Were those his words?" I ask after a few seconds pass.

With a contemplating tilt of his head, he says, "I'm pretty sure he just said you needed me." Of course he did.

My friend, Jaehyun, has a way of meddling in things he has no idea about. For example, he does not quite understand why nothing has ever happened between me and my best friend.

"Go for it. Be brave. I don't understand it. What do you have to lose?" He'd said to me then, adjusting the glasses on his head.

I'd looked at him like he was insane.

"Him, Jaehyun. Him."

Apart from me not wanting to lose the connection we had, I'd always been convinced that I never held any romantic feelings for him like that, anyway. Jaehyun thought otherwise, but then he'd said something that stuck with me.

"You'll never be happy if you keep letting yourself be the one thing holding you back."

"Thank you, by the way," I whisper, swiftly changing the subject.

"What for, love?" he asks, confused.

"You risked getting into trouble for me. You didn't have to, but you did. I'm glad you always stand up for me," I confess, remembering the guy who ruined my dress earlier.

"Oh." A little smile. "Don't worry about that. I can't stand rudeness, and he was being rude to you," at this, he frowns deeply, as if he's reminded of something. "He had to learn."

"Did he ... insult me, or something?" I ask, remembering how he said something when he clashed into me. It's a shot in the blue, but it's not like him to get angry all that easily.

He just nods, not elaborating. And I don't push.

I suddenly wonder what it would be like for this to be a usual thing. Him stepping up so I don't have to, him taking care of me in this way. Because I'm not stupid. As my friend, he didn't have to do all this for me.

But if he were more, this would be natural for us. Expected, even.

"You'll never be happy if you keep letting yourself be the one thing holding you back."

And now I'm here, still only holding myself back. Though these feelings are this new, or rather, newly discovered, at least they aren't a product of the drinks I had. Instead, they were feelings that had been growing for a long time, and today, I finally allowed them.

I feel his finger on my chin, and I shudder. He tilts my head up, slowly, and he's so gentle and there's so much affection in the way he's looking at me when we're at eye level that I have no choice.

"Hey, what's wro—"

He never gets to finish his sentence, interrupted by my mouth on his, featherlight.

I feel him freeze, and for just a second, I fear the worst.

He's going to reject me. He's going to reject me, and I'll look like the fool that I've been feeling like ever since I stepped foot into that party.

And I'm going to have to make him leave because I'll be too mortified to even look him in the face.

Ever again.

Needing to know how he feels, I pull away. I find him staring down at me in something akin to awe. Still, he makes no effort to move, or to speak. He is only staring at me, eyes bulging out of his head, and I panic.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't just—"

"Y/N, baby, please tell me you feel fully sober."

I startle, surprised by him speaking to me. Surprised he hasn't run out of the door yet. And then, realizing it only moments later, surprised at the petname.

Baby. I've never heard him call me that before. It feels nicer than I'd like to admit. I almost make him say it again.

"Hey, I swear, I'm sober now—I promise. I would never lie to—"

And then both his hands frame my face, and he kisses me.

Never have I thought about what it would feel like before, but I believe I would have thought that the first time he kissed me, it'd be gentle and sweet.

Nothing about how he's kissing me right now is either of that. It's desperate and it's eager. Even as he guides me to lie down on my couch, wasting no time getting on top of me, I still can't get enough.

Even like this, distracted by hands on my waist and lips against mine, I feel his grin.

He pulls away way too fast.

"You don't have a single clue how fucking much I've been wanting this."

His thumb is tracing along my stomach while he says it, and I make a mental note to tell him how much he touches me without being aware he's doing it.

He's never touched me like this, but it still feels so right, like he's never not done it.

I make space for him beside me, and he smiles at me as he gets comfortable, getting way closer than I am used to, facing me on his side, hand on my hip.

"You're so beautiful," he's saying, and before he even continues, I spot that giddy look on his face that tells me he's about to tell me something that he's been itching to tell.

"I'm not sure how you feel about me, but I'm just going to be honest with you now because you kissed me first, even if I'm still not one hundred percent sure why. I like you. I really, really like you. I have since forever. And when I say forever, I mean it. Ever since we were kids."

The confession leaves me lost for words.

"To be honest, I never planned on telling you, because I thought you'd never like me back. I thought, why not save yourself from the pain of her rejection? And I was fine with being only your friend, never more."

Before he carries on, he shakes his head.

"Fuck that, it killed me to think I'd never get to have you like that. Especially because not only would I have to be your friend forever, I'd have to see you with other guys who you would see as more than that. And well, I wouldn't be strong enough for that." He thinks for just a second.

"But it's scary, because I know I would have tried to be if only it meant I could stay in your life."

He kisses me again, softly this time. And again. And again. "I think I'd do anything for you," he whispers.

And I wish I could find the words to tell him I wouldn't do any less for him, but my mouth won't open, won't make a sound.

I blink up at him, and I'm not sure what he sees in my face that makes him laugh, but he does. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I don't expect more from you than you're willing to give."

I stay silent.

"Okay, actually, I do need you to tell me you weren't just trying to mess around just now and that you do feel at least something for me, or I might go a little insane."

I still don't find the words, feeling like an idiot.

Taesan's face scrunches up. "Hey, are you—"

"I like you."

The relief that floods his face makes me smile. But unlike me, I don't leave him without the ability to speak. "Yeah? You like me?" he teases, putting his hand at my neck, getting closer to my face.

My cheeks flush, like they do only with him. "I like you more than anyone, and I don't want to hide that from you. I still need to fully understand what I feel, but I know I need you with me. As more than my friend."

That response satisfies him, although it is a lot less than what he gave me—I'm reminded of how he's so sweet to me that it hurts—and he rolls on top of me once more. "Well, then let me help you figure things out."

"And how will you do that?" I ask as his fingers find my jaw, stroking it.

"By taking you on a date."

@ miusiz

[vagabond-umlaut]

summer collapsed into fall

summary: gojo satoru has no favourite colour. he feels no need nor interest to have one, either. pairing: gojo satoru x reader [unspecified gender] tags: slight undertones of teacher-student relationship BUT there is NO ACTUAL romance between them; can this be called pining? idk; character study like fic of our sweetest satoru *cries* he deserves sm better; fluff but with a mild serving of angst; wc 0.8k notes: fic title inspired by a quote by oscar wilde; fic inspired by this lovely post i saw on pinterest; jjk isn't mine; loosely related to 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate'; tumblr hates me using dividers hence the new fic format ^_^

satoru doesn't really have a favourite colour.

it's never quite crossed his mind. and even if it has, he has never seen it to be important enough to allow it be anything more than a passing thought, a meaningless thought---it is not like his life will be impeded should he not have a favourite colour, nor is anyone ever going to ask him what it is, so why bother?

but now, as you peer up at him expectantly, having already listed your top five favourite colours and why you love them so, satoru wishes he did bother back then.

he decides to feign confusion.

"what?"

"what what?" you shoot back, eager gaze not wavering one bit, "i just told you my favourite colours; aren't you gonna tell me yours? it's fine even if you have just one, sensei."

but is it fine if he has none?

throwing his watch a quick glance, he turns back to you. then exhales a quiet sigh, tired but the farthest from annoyed, when he sees you're still waiting for his reply... shutting the bus window beside, he turns to lean against it, shifting to face you properly.

and sighs, decidedly noisier this time, "this isn't the type of questions one asks their teacher, y'know? they are too casual, meant more for a friend than for a teacher."

"you got to be the last guy to lecture me about etiquette, sensei," you retort without missing a beat, huffing a quiet, amused laugh.

"and after the time i had to bring you to ieiri-san after you passed out from drinking a bit too much: i guess we're a bit more than a teacher and a student, aren't we, sensei?"

not really... no.

while satoru believes your first point to be a debatable topic, he does not think the two of you are anything but a teacher and a student, no matter how much help you extended to him or will in the future---it's not like he isn't grateful, though. he is; he really, really is---it's just his belief that few acts of kindness do not necessarily cause a friendship between people, and he intends to tell you this very clearly---

but finds he cannot. he simply cannot.

not when you say, still so eager but with an undercurrent so achingly soft that even the strongest wonders if he can handle its weight: "i'm not that bad a friend, y'know---you can ask others if you want; they'll tell you i'm a good friend, not the best but a decent one---"

"why don't you guess what's my favourite colour?"

rude, yes, horribly so. satoru knows, he knows this very, very well. but what can a man do but divert when he's being unsettled by words like the ones you addressed to him, by the tenor you employed for him---

although now that he observes you consider his suggestion, the man wonders if diversion was the right tactic or not.

he could have just lied and told you any random color. he could have chosen to be honest and told you he has no favourite colour like you and probably the rest of the world have.

but no, he doesn't.

satoru does not opt either of the above two painfully simple, painfully easy options. choosing instead to ask you to guess what his favourite colour is... satoru never really anticipates he'll end up being this much more unsettled, thanks to his decision of diversion:

if there was a subtext of a haunting softness in your manners before, the sorcerer reckons it is the text now, typed out in bold letters then underlined and highlighted in neon---you too shift to face him, even moving the bag kept in between to your lap and shifting a bit closer, but still a respectable distance away---only to punctuate your effort with a keen stare, much too gentle, at him.

it's scary, he thinks. yeah, undoubtedly scary. but somewhere in the back of his mind, something says it's also comforting.

many eyes look at satoru throughout the day. they gape, they gawk, they study the man and every small aspect of his person with many different kinds of reasons behind them. but before today, there has never been anyone who has regarded him with this much care, that too for a nonsensical cause like yours...

he wonders, just what are you seeing in him?

just who are you seeing in him?

"it's orange, isn't it?" you exclaim abruptly, leaning a touch forwards with a snap of your pointer and thumb. voice too loud. smile too big. eyes too bright, way too bright---

satoru takes not even one whole second to decide:

he now has one favourite colour.

[bloodchapell]

so its been what, a month? since i started working at the bakery cafe 😜 and that calls for more headcanons of senku as the annoying regular

first of all, he was already a regular when you started working there.

"who are you?" he asks when you bring his order instead of kohaku or jasper. you tell him your name with a smile, trying not to smack him with the tray at his rude question. of course after you get to know each other, the passive-agressiveness increases between you two. he tells you that he is studying at the university close by and you tell him you are too.

as time goes by, you exchange contact information, just so he can spam your phone before he comes in so you have his order ready (double texting fears bro). whenever he sees you posting stories having fun or literally anything, he will reply saying something like "so this is why my coffee wasn't that good today, disappointing. get more days at work."

he doesn't even realize what he said until you point it out and mock him for it. "aww, are you saying i make the best coffee?"

"no, i am saying that factually it is the least worst one. kohaku burns it somehow, jasper's coffee makes me think of retirement. yours is only barely tasteable for my refined taste so therefore the least worst."

"whatever u say brah💀" what makes it for him though, is the next text: "then make your own coffee."

"i make the best coffee on this planet, probably."

and so, you find yourself on a thursday afternoon, sitting in his living room as he makes coffee.

"senku i fucking hate coffee, i have no way of determining if this is good or not" (me probably and the rest of the coffee haters). he makes you tea, the good thing about tea is that there is not much to it as long as you're not brewing it with leaves and are simply using the little tea bags, so he can't fucking brag about it either.

for theatrics and inclusions, if you do like coffee, he serves it to you and it is surprisingly good. he says 'i told you so' like the genius he is 💀, he invites you once in a while to his house to drink coffee while he talks your ears off about science.

nowwwww, we forgot to mention the pastries 😈

senku likes sweets. think of it like a L from death note situation... joking, but he does like sweets. my evidence? he got petrified drinking an energy drink.

he likes chocolate, but not excessively, it is actually pretty easy for him to find the food cloying after a few bites. red velvet is a meh, carrot cake is good but unmemorable, cheesecake has a nice texture but too sweet after a while... so his favorite is napoleon cake, sweet but not so much, if he is feeling fancy he will get a berry napoleon.

will ask for a recommendation on pastries and try it and then complain that he didn't like it. my personal favorite pastry is plain tres leches, which he would like because its sweet but not too much and its just like watery and mhhhmhghhghm delicious (is this blantant bias and favoritism in our year of the lord 2025?)

anyway, i will most likely do a third part to tie it to his fucking problem of crashing your dates 😇, for more check my mistresslist (i should have formatted this like my usual posts but the first one i did of these was just like a ramble (check it out HERE) and its 1am and i worked for the last 8 hours and have to get up to work again)

[militaryapple]

I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.

synopsis. you go out to forget about your dead best friend, though its hard to forget when you miss him so much.

cw. mentions of death, reader has auditory and visual hallucinations, grief, sad like genuinely disheartening, angst. pure angst.

add ons. ok so what i was sad im allowed to take it out on caleb probably first fic out of a series idk anyways smut coming soon

wc. 3.1k

parties. you had a love and hate relationship with them. you loved them because of how free you felt. how reckless you could be without anyone telling you that its dangerous to drink so much with a low tolerance, or how you shouldn't wear such a revealing outfit knowing your job. fuck, you were.. free.

but that was the worst part about it.

you were free. you didn't have anyone holding you down. being your anchor. you didn't have anyone making sure if where you were going was safe, even going as far as to go with you. it was fine, you were used to this routine by now. you partied to deal with stress, problems, grief, him.

it was just the thought of him that haunted you. you knew that partying didn't change how you felt, how it couldn't make anything disappear. it did distract you though, even if it was just for a bit. it wasn't your first rodeo either. it was those tiny moments where you thought of him.

thought of caleb.

how when you get ready, you wondered if he would tell you that you looked pretty in the dress you wore. how he looked at how snug it fit you, or how caleb would clench his fist, telling you that you shouldn't go. how much of a bad idea it was. sometimes you imagine, what if he saw you? in the bar or club. how he would look at you with his eyes softening the moment he found you in the crowd of people.

time would move slower, his once worried expression now calming into a relieved one. how he looked at you like you were the world. his world. you imagine how he would squeeze his way through people, with murmurs of "excuse me" and "I need to get by, sorry". just to reach you. to hold you. to know that you were okay. the sight of his hands lingering over you, not quite touching you but enough to feel that he would be shaking, how he would cup your face and lean down. heads together while you could feel the steadying of his breath.

"you're okay."

it was one of the few sentences you could remember from him. the words echoing in your head so clearly it was like he had just said it. it was one of the many things that calmed you down. the only thing you thanked your brain for remembering that had actually made you feel soothed. it was just to help you calm down if you were having a panic attack, or if you were overwhelmed. how his voice and a couple of slow breaths made the fast-turning world suddenly slow down.

oh how you missed caleb.

this is why you needed to leave the house.

your therapist advises against you doing this. how dangerous it is for you to constantly go out whenever your mind was in a state of distress, but you've never gotten hurt. so it didn't matter right? it was the only thing that cleared your mind of him. that made you remember that you're still young, free. so what if you didn't have an anchor? someone helping you? you were a big fucking girl. you have a job, friends a life. he's been dead for a year. you need to get fucking over it.

and god did it hurt your heart to think that.

you can't be angry at a dead man. yet you somehow managed to be. why you were angry at him? you don't even know. maybe it was because when you last saw him, you didn't know it was going to be the last time you saw him. maybe it was because it was the only day you both were free, and how you missed seeing his face and eating his cooking after so long. maybe it was because you missed the dumb promises he made when he was younger, still managing to keep long after your adolescence. or maybe it was because of the argument you both had, before he was gone. right before your very eyes.

oh god. you really needed to leave the house, it was becoming a pity party. you grabbed your purse, and put on your pumps. walking to the door and grabbing your keys. "here we go" you sighed to yourself, opening the door and shutting it after walking out. once you locked your door you made your way to the elevator and down you went.

checking your phone, you looked for tara's location. it was one of the few weeks you two were able to meet up, and its not because it was caleb and gran's death anniversaries so you were told to take a week off because captain couldn't have her best hunter overworking herself again. seeing how tara was nearby, you shuffled to one side of the sidewalk. tara pulled to the side, stopping her car while you got inside in the passanger seat.

"I'm telling you," tara voiced "maybe your therapist is right, we shouldn't be going out on a day like this, no matter how much I would LOVE to be out dancing it doesn't seem right - and as your best friend.." tara trailed off, looking over at you. you trembled, hands clutched together. she couldn't help but sigh. "fine. lets just get some flowers to lay at their graves first at least. so you won't feel guilty about not going tomorrow." she said softly. her gazing shifting back to the road.

tara pulled over at a nearby flower shop. she got out, and you followed her actions. you went in saying "hello" to the shop-keeper. her face soft. she must've known you were here for a loved one. she didn't know, she couldn't know. your stomach bubbled. how would she know about him? did she know you were there? your heart ached. why did she look at you so pitifully? what if you were there for just flowers? what if you wanted to give them to someone alive, breathing? your hands clenched and your face started to boil.

"hey, are you okay?" for a moment you paused, feeling the sensation of someone resting their hands on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. was it? could it be? whipping your head around. caleb? was that really him? it sounded just like him. your illusion soon shattered with your view focusing on tara. ah, just another one of your imaginations. you sighed, nodding your head.

"you're okay." you silently reminded yourself, taking a deep breath. you looked at the flowers tara held up. smiling in approval, tara paid for them and you both started to return to the car. you couldn't help but look back at the woman behind the desk. she felt.. off. nonetheless you shook it off, it was just "grieving emotions" or whatever your therapist called it. she doesn't know you. she doesn't know caleb.

tara soon made another stop, your heart beating faster with each movement you pushed yourself to do. it's routine, you have to see them, see him. you walked behind tara, she didn't say anything. you felt like a ghost, mindlessly floating around whenever you go visit their graves. "we didn't have to do this now, tara." you forced yourself to say. your breath hitching and voice cracking. you just did your makeup so nice, it'd be a shame for you to ruin it with tears you could shed tomorrow.

"I know" Tara said with a faint smile. you two managing to reach the top of the hill as she got down to place the flowers. you stood next to her this time, closing your eyes and making a prayer before turning around and walking back to the car, now ahead of her. "but if i didn't come with you today, I don't think you'd ever come this week to see them." and she had a point. that's why tara was your best friend, she knew you so well. she knew this week, you wouldn't get up. wouldn't visit the graves of the most precious people who ever lived.

you could only huff as you both returned to the car.

it wasn't until soon after tara had gotten out the car, smiling brightly as she walked to the line of the bar. "okay," she said gleefully, turning her head to you. his face stern as she pinched your cheeks, you smiled hitting her hand away playfully. "you aren't getting black out drunk this time, you hear me? i'm making sure tonight you aren't being so reckless. i always think to let you have fun and when I turn around - it's chaos!" she huffed and scrutinized you.

it was sweet on how she attempted to be your anchor, but she didn't compare to him. she couldn't compare. god, it was even worse on how you were comparing your dead best friend to the one who had just visited his grave with you. your stomach did a twirl of uneasiness.

"okay okay tara" you said softly, "i get it, lets go in now." you nudged her into the bar. it was crowded. the lights flashing different variations of colors as you watched how people moved and wiggled. this is where you needed to be, this was your home, your safe place. no matter how bad that sounded, no matter how self destructive you were, this is what helped you.

you maneuvered your way towards the bar. ordering yourself a drink. "here's to the first drink of the night" you mumbled to yourself lightheartedly. you could hear another chuckle next to you, turning your head you saw a man. he looked about 3 years older than you, his hair ruffled and his eyes a hue of blue. if you were really desperate you could even say purple if the lights hit his face in a nicer view.

he looked like caleb. it could make you shiver.

"another one of those nights?" he nudged your arm. you nodded and chuckled in response, taking another sip of your drink. "can't help it." you joked. now's not the time to mention your dead best friend's anniversary. "shit happens." the man swallowed down his drink getting up. he moved towards the crowd watching to see if you'd followed.

you watched him. how he said "pardon me" and "gotta get through here." it was scary. you blinked, and instead of him, you saw caleb. please not right now. you had hoped not to see him. how he smiled waving you over. how easily you've given into this little mind illusion. he felt so real.

you leaned in closer to 'caleb' and your stomach did a leap. your face buzzed with heat washing over your cheek. you missed him, you missed his touch and his warmth.

it was like you could almost sob with how real this was. you looked up, and saw his beautiful eyes. the eyes that washed you in so deeply, that made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

so you couldn't help it if your hand moved to his neck, and the other moved to his face. how your eyes fluttered with utter love for the man standing in front of you. the man you've known your entire life, now here, dancing with you. you wanted to talk to him, hear his voice. you wanted to hear how much he missed you, and how he was holding you, how he was here, holding you.

"caleb," you said softly, placing your head back to his chest. it wasn't until you felt a sudden halt between you two. in confusion you looked up at caleb, before feeling a shove. your eyes blinking, brows furrowing. the illusion that long comforted you now slipping away as the man who once held you looked at you in pure disgust.

caleb's scent was no longer there, instead a heavy coat of musk and beer loomed over it instead. the once sugary dream you had was swiped away from you while another hand gave you licorice. it was sickening.

"the hell? the fuck's wrong with you?" he cursed under his breath storming away. "next time, you don't call a fucking guy another mans name when dancing with them." he spat at you before flipping you off. fuck. fuck fuck. did you really imagine caleb as this man? are you fucking insane?

you could only laugh at yourself to keep your composure. to keep yourself from bawling your eyes out. you moved back to the bar. ordering a new drink and sipping out of that. your eyes glazed around the bar, tara was dancing with some guy which meant you were either going home alone today or you could third wheel in the backseat, listening to the sounds of kissing and small moans.

you would take your chances walking home alone today.

tapping the bar counter, you asked for the tab and paid in full. mimicking the way caleb used to do it when you watched him order you both shirley temples when you were younger. yet there was no caleb, and instead of mocktail's there were full blown drinks made up of your own pity and guilt.

you walked outside, it was freezing and you could see the clouds beginning to brew. great, you'll just call a taxi instead. waving on the side of the road, you watched as a yellow car pulled over to you. getting in you told the driver your address and asked to get you there fast. you would even throw in a 15$ extra tip.

the ride was silent, and the rain began to pour. how cinematic. you thought to yourself. you've always hated the rain. the sounds of thunder and lightning that would be too close for your liking, alarmingly close. on those nights, you would walk to your door sniffling. opening it to find caleb, with his arms held out. instinctively you would rush in his arms as he coo'd you. bringing you back to bed and holding you.

"it's okay. you're okay." he'd say softly. rubbing the center of your back as he watched you trying to fight your eyelids open "i'll be here when you wake up. so sleep all you want, okay pip-squeak?" though this time it would be a lie. if you woke up tomorrow morning, he wouldn't be there anymore, and the day after that, and the day after that. repeating until you eventually took your last breath.

you sighed, before looking out the window. you thanked your taxi driver, paying him a 20$ tip instead. he tried to beat the rain, so A for effort. as you got out you looked up at your apartment, the sight of it looming over you. how you hated being here, hated the thought that again, tonight, you would be crying over the death of him.

closing the taxi door, you turned around to walk to your apartment, moving into a halt. there was a man. his frame was big and his size was taller than you. you looked closer at his back. he was in some sort of uniform. his hat hid his hair while the umbrella he held up kept him perfectly dry. he looked up at the apartment, like he was scanning in each and every window for something, or someone.

is he okay? does he need help? even though you were an average person, you were a hunter first still. you moved towards the man in black, placing your palm on his shoulder.

it probably wasn't a good idea to do this. he was probably a creep, and you were in a dress just returning from the bar you would no longer go to out of pure embarrassment. something in you tugged at the man though. you couldn't shake the feeling, and your heart skipped beats.

as the man turned you could catch a faint smell of vanilla. vanilla, apples and oak. it wasn't a heavy scent, but it was faint enough for you to swoon - oddly it reminded you of him. it was his scent. a scent you could recognize a thousand times in a thousand lives. your face shoved down. reluctant to look up, yet you forced yourself to.

no. you didn't want to imagine him again. not like this. it was new, you've never seen him like this. yet you couldn't deny yourself. you wanted to escape this illusion - this torture. yet you stood, looking.

the umbrella dropped, the sound of a small splash and thud could be heard as the man in front of you looked down at you.

it was caleb.

he was home.

your eyes fluttered, you wiped them as you stared at him. you dug your nail in your finger to make sure this was real. the pain confirming the actuality of the scenery. you couldn't help but sob. your hiccups matching the way your body huffed up and down. the way you hyperventilated as your lungs tried to clutch on as much air as they possibly could.

caleb looked down at you, his hands at his side while he stood in disbelief. emotions swirling in his chest. should he reach out to you? comfort you and hug you? tell you that it's okay, hes here now? caleb leaned into you. his hands finding their way to your back and he tugged you closer to him. it seemed all so natural for him, as he's done this countless times before.

you couldn't help but hold on to him, cling to him like he could disappear at any given moment. like if you let go, he'd leave you once more. caleb rubbed your back, holding you as close as he could. oh how he missed you, your skin and your beautiful eyes. he missed your scent and your voice. it pained him to know that just the mere sight of him made you burst out in tears.

it devoured him knowing that he caused all this anguish for you. you had already saw him, so there was no other way for him to make up the absolute torture he put you in the past year. caleb planted a small kiss on your head, his coo's soothing you as much as they could.

"I know pip-squeak, I know. its okay, I'm here, lets go inside okay? It's cold and wet out here. I promise I won't go anywhere." was what he had said to you, he wanted to calm you down. make sure you were okay, even if he would be making empty promises.

[babybearnation]

oscar + rookies with rockstar reader?

you didn't specify which rookies so i'm gonna do all four "rookies" i write for! also this is very stereotypical, i'm so sorry haha

gn!rockstar!reader

cw: suggestive (liam)

oscar piastri:

probably not super into rock music but absolutely listens to the stuff you or your band creates because duh you're involved

thinks you're hot anyways, but if you play an instrument, that's even hotter to him and he's totally down to watch you practice

got lando into your music and now lando will always playfully run up and fanboy and ask for your autograph every time he sees you

loves your piercings and tattoos and will often times zone out and trail his fingers along them in a perfectly formed path - he knows the layout of your tattoos like the back of his hand, he's spent that long looking at them

is the best person to bring along for getting piercings because he doesn't even flinch, he'll just ask if you're okay and then hand you a fizzy drink or sweet when you need it

always backstage at your concerts because he doesn't want to run the risk of people noticing and focusing on him instead of you and your performance, but he'll always congratulate you after each one

liam lawson:

he's so fucking obsessed with the fact that you're a rockstar, i'm not even joking - this man is so down bad for you

he plays guitar already but if you also play guitar, he'll beg you to teach him your songs on your electric/bass guitar because he is so obsessed with your shared hobby

recommends your music to everyone because he thinks it is legit the best thing ever and he's convinced everyone needs to consume it

definitely finds your tattoos and piercings hot and will often times zone out and get a boner just from looking at them or sometimes even thinking about them

cannot watch you get pierced - not only does he flinch and cringe and unintentionally make things worse, he also makes stupid ass comments like "you've got a hole in your face" which... thank you for stating the obvious, liam

you get him to sit on stage during one performance and you have to do it every performance after that because he hypes up the crowd and boosts your moral so well

ollie bearman:

honestly was a bit gobsmacked the first time he found out you were a rockstar like... how did you hide that from him for so long? (easily, actually. he's very oblivious)

banned from touching your instruments because you know that he'll probably break something within the first fifteen seconds, but you let him stay and watch you practice

rarely listens to your music but that's because he doesn't want it to grow old to his ears - he always listen to it pre-race, however, as he finds that the chaotic energy of it really boosts his motivation

nearly fainted when he saw your tattoos for the first time - he's in awe and adoration and he can't help but stare at em, occasionally grabbing whatever part of you is tattooed and tugging it towards him so he can look all over again

watched you get pierced once and panicked so badly after seeing the needle go through that he had to wait outside so he didn't throw up or panic any harder

loves watching your concerts and loves being in the crowd with all of your fans because he finds your community and its sense of camaraderie to be so fucking fun and exciting

kimi antonelli:

not into rock music but he does go around telling everyone that you are the best ever despite the fact that he rarely ever listens to any other rock music

not interested in learning the instruments you can play, but he does actually have really good skill with them and you silently mourn the amazing musician he could've been

rarely listens to your music like ollie, but, unlike ollie, it's because he's not a fan of the genre - he will listen to your new albums a couple of times, but they're not on his regular playlists - he still highly recommends your stuff though!

admires your tattoos whether they are elegant or haunting or both and he often thinks about getting one but, after watching you get tattooed once, he swore against it for the time being

unlike with tattoos, though, he can watch you get pierced with no problems, especially if you barely flinch - he finds it fascinating, to be honest

in your crowd and very proud! he's not super loud (okay why am i rhyming) but he's mouthing along to the lyrics of your songs and chatting with your fans around him like its his full time job

jack doohan:

lowkey very fucking into this - you/your band will be his #1 artist on spotify wrapped, his fave song of yours is #1 and he's just.. actually so obsessed with you

loves to watch you practice playing your instruments and he'd be willing to learn but he finds it too hard to keep practicing with how hectic your schedules are

pierre is so fucking tired of hearing the same three songs of yours come out of jack's driver's room - he's learnt all the lyrics to these songs now and he's begging jack to switch it up, even if it's just to three other songs of yours

thinks your tattoos are so fucking cool and is always down to accompany you to appointments - he's also a good distraction for you because he's chats away with the tattoo artist like they're life long besties

the inverse of kimi, jack cannot watch you get a piercing, it terrifies the fuck out of him and he has to wait outside the room until you're done because otherwise he's gonna be so stressed

doesn't like being in the crowd at your concerts because he'd rather watch from the side of the stage, admiring you from a more unique angle than the typical fan experience would allow - you once invited him onto the stage and kissed him at the end of the concert and everyone went wild

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[alilarew23]

if your main focus is on being in the state, you're not in the state

let's say you've decided to manifest a car, a porsche 911 carrera 4s to be specific (yes i am projecting, that badboy already has my name on it), and you've been trying the whole affirm and persist thing for a grip but "nothing is happening" so instead you decide to focus on your state. you ask yourself what the version of you with the porsche would be thinking, feeling, doing--who, when you own this porsche, would you be? you realize you'd probably be thinking something along the lines of, "i fucking love my porsche, this is the dopest car in existence," you'd be feeling like a total baddie, turnin' heads, you would, of course, be driving your porsche everywhere you went, so now, every time your desire comes to mind, you "get into the state." you think your new thoughts. you feel yourself into your imagined car and visualize people driving by in awe of your bad-assery. when you're driving your honda accord, you're telling yourself it's your porsche. you're even believing it! you do this for a couple weeks, and it feels good, persisting in the assumption that your porsche is yours, but then you start to get frustrated. "i've been in the state so consistently! still nothing! why isn't anything happening?" well here's the thing: you're seeing states as a sort of technique, a means of getting something that's not already in your possession. it's not that you're doing something wrong by imagining. it's the intention behind the imagining where you're faltering. think of it this way: if someone came to you in five minutes and said, that porsche is yours, 150 trillion percent, can't tell you how or when but just know it's a done deal and is coming to you right now via the path of least resistance, how would you feel? probably pretty stoked, grateful, relieved to not have to think about manifesting, and, along with those feelings, you'd probably be thinking, "this is so sick. i legit have a porsche coming my way simply because i decided to have a porsche. the law is wild in the best way." if you're a visual person, you'd probably also see some scenes in your mind's eye of you in your porsche bumpin' mac miller drinking your iced latte, if your brain tends toward inner conversations, you might hear your friend say how low key jealous of you they are (but also thrilled because your friends are the most supportive)...but the difference here is this is all a NATURAL BYPRODUCT of you being in the genuine state of the wish fulfilled. by genuine i mean what underlies it is ACTUAL BELIEF that you have already received your manifestation. not in the physical realm--it's fine to know your porsche is yours but still acknowledge it's on its way--but in imagination, it is already written. so, now, as you go about your days, your base state is fulfillment, and yeah, every so often you might "fall out of the state," but you'll quickly recognize you're being goofy, remind yourself the porsche is a given, and boom, you're back in. whereas before, your base state (though you probably weren't even aware of it) was a state of not having the porsche and trying to get it. which--you guessed it!--only manifests more trying. hence your frustration. so do i think it's wrong to focus on your state? goodness, no. we are always in a state. of course we want to embody the state of our fulfilled desires. but check your starting place, and make sure the belief (knowing) of having already received your manifestation is inherent in it. you'll save yourself so much time, energy, and unnecessary mental acrobatics and--a fun bonus!--your porsche will be in your driveway in a jiffy.

as always, love you/believe in you. can't wait to pass you on the highway.

xx, a

[dimensional-dimentio]

This blog is being discontinued, I fear...

Below the cut is a story that is VERY IMPORTANT TO READ! It explains everything.

★ "Ah, it seems that you have met your end. Oh, what a pity. You know I... I don't feel too bad about it, though. After all, if it weren't me, it would've just been one of the others, I guess… I'm honestly just glad to be out of those air ducts."

★ "You know it's… it's not easy for a refined jester like myself to fit up there… and… not easy to get down either, and... I'm not as young as I used to be, as you can see. I used to be able to do all sorts of things; you're young, you're vibrant, you have that sort of pep in your step."

★ "Ah, it reminds me of a conversation I was having with one of my good friends, Mimikins. We were having a nice picnic one day, I believe it was summer? No, perhaps it was… was it the fall? Yes! Yes, it was the fall because the leaves had turned already."

★ "But I said to Mimi, I said, 'Mimi, I have a story to tell you.' And Mimikins looked at me, you know, kind of odd and- and said, 'Well, what’s it about?'"

★ "I said to her, 'Not every story has to be about something, dearest Mimikins. Sometimes a person just wants to talk. Why does everything have to be a story?' I said to her. It just looked at me and it said, 'Well, you said you had a story,' and... You know, she was quite right! I did, in fact! I told her I had a story."

★ "I suppose if a person just wants to talk, then... It's best to not announce that you're telling a story. Telling a story does come with its own pressures and expectations I- I suppose."

★ "After all, if you're just talking to a friend, then... There's no more expectations then if you were talking into the wind!"

★ "Words by themselves are not expected to carry… aren't expected to stick. But if, you know, if you announce that you're telling a story, well then… There had better be a point to it all, you know? No one wants to sit and listen to someone ramble on and on and on with absolutely no end in sight. So, you know, it's- it's good to be mindful that when you tell someone that you're about to tell a story, that you have something to say."

★ "Telling someone that you're gonna tell a story is tantamount to asking them to stop what they're doing, and pay attention."

★ "You're basically saying, 'hey, hey, hey buddy, stop everything, stop what you're thinking, I have a solution to everything.' And well, I didn't really have any story to tell. In- in hindsight I probably just misspoke when I said that I had a story."

★ "I think it would've just been better to tell Mimi that I wanted to tell it something rather than tell it that I had a story, but you know, even then it might've put too much importance on the whole thing."

★ "Either way, it was quite a nice day. I remember... I remember that we were drinking milk tea..."

★ "... Snrk, ahahahahaha ~ ! Did I get you with the little fake out? Were you scared the blog was actually being discontinued? Rest assured, dear audience, that the show will go on."

★ "... Happy April Fools. <3"

[hischierswhore]

hiii, could you write some angst to fluff with nico?

like maybe they into a big argument, but end up resolving everything

thaankss🫶🏼

jealousy is a good thing

pairing: nico hischier x bff!reader

a/n: hi anon! i kind of steered away from the whole 'argument' plotline but i think this turned out cute?? idk.

You were currently at some party with Nico and the rest of the team. You were talking to Luke when you excused yourself to go grab a water bottle, as you suddenly felt the urge to drink some water. On your way to the fridge, you saw the worst sight possible: Nico chatting away with Y/bff. This wasn't the first time you'd witnessed the two together. They looked comfortable in each others presence, which made you feel kind of weird for some reason.

As much as you loved Nico and he was one of the most adorable people on earth, it still bothered you seeing him hanging out with someone other than you.

You'd grown to have a massive crush on Nico, your best friend of 4 years. You'd become friends when he started playing with the Devils, and had slowly fallen in love with him ever since. The biggest issue was that you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you felt because you didn't want to risk losing him.

So now here you were, watching Nico act all happy and close to Y/bff, thinking about what you should do. Tell him how you feel? Go talk to Y/bff? Confront both of them? All these thoughts flew through your head in seconds, causing your mind to run rampant.

You were lost in thought when a hand grabbed yours from behind. You turned around to see Nico smiling at you. He handed you a water bottle and you smiled back as you muttered a quiet "Thanks" before heading off towards Luke once again, leaving Nico standing next to the fridge confused.

He stared at you as you walked away, but his face soon returned to its normal expression as he continued to chat with Y/bff.

They pair continued chatting the night away and you just didn't want to be there anymore. Not knowing what to do, you headed home early to avoid being a third wheel. Once you arrived home, you got ready for bed and cried yourself to sleep at the thought of your love for Nico not being reciprocated.

You woke up in the middle of the night to someone rubbing your back. You slowly opened your eyes and realized it was Nico, who was gently rubbing your back in an attempt to wake you.

You sat up slightly and rubbed your eyes as you yawned, "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to see if you're okay. You left the party and didn't tell anyone" He replied as he pulled away from your back. He noticed the faint tear marks on your face, even though the room was dark. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing really, I was just tired." You lied. It was true you weren't tired, you were crying yourself to sleep at the fact that you liked Nico more than he liked you. He was probably trying to comfort you by waking you up, not realizing that he was actually making you feel worse.

He nodded as he let out a small sigh. He sat down on the edge of your bed as he began to play with your hair, "Are you sure you're alright? You seem like you aren't yourself."

"I'm fine, Nico. Just go back to the party and talk to Y/bff again or something" You replied quietly as you tried to ignore the confusion in his voice. You knew Nico cared about you, but it was only a friendship. No matter how much you wanted it to be more, you knew it wouldn't happen.

There was a silence that filled the pitch black room, that is until Nico reached for the lamp on your bedside table and turned the dim lights on. You could finally see Nico's face, and he could see yours in much better detail.

"Y/bff? What are you talking about?" Nico asked as he looked into your eyes. Your cheeks were bright red and you were nervously avoiding eye contact.

"It doesn't matter. Just leave me alone" You snapped as you curled up into a ball and you felt the first fresh tear land on your cheek. You hated this part of being in love with someone; dealing with the rejection when they didn't return your feelings.

The tears started flowing once again as Nico brushed his hand up and down your back, attempting to soothe you. But he failed miserably, because instead of calming you down, it only caused you to cry even harder.

Nico felt his heart breaking into a million pieces as he watched you wither away in front of him.

"Y/n please talk to me. What's going on?" Nico pleaded as he lightly shook you. You slowly opened your eyes and glanced over at Nico, noticing the hurt look in his eyes.

"Just go back to the damn party and talk to Y/bff, since she's apparently caught your eye lately" You snapped before rolling over onto your stomach.

Nico was silent for a few moments as he stared at you, wanting to know why you said those words to him.

"You think I'm into Y/bff?" He asked with a sad tone. "Is that what this is about?"

The silence on your end spoke volumes. The way your body language changed gave it away, and it killed Nico to hear the truth spoken aloud.

Nico's heart dropped to the floor as you sobbed uncontrollably into your pillow. He hated that he was the reason behind your tears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you buried your face into the soft material. A lone tear rolled down his cheek and landed on your arm, causing you to stop sobbing and turn to look at him.

"I'm not into Y/bff, you know" He whispered.

You hesitated to answer him as you gazed at his face, desperately trying to figure out what to say.

"But you've both been super chatty lately and hanging out a lot more" You finally uttered.

"Well I didn't want to have to tell you but she's been giving me dating advice on this girl I like" Nico confessed.

"And the last thing I want is for the girl I’m after to think I'm going after her other best friend, especially considering me and this girl are best friends." Nico continued.

You froze, unable to speak. Your mind went completely blank as you listened to Nico explain what was going on. The last thing you expected was for Nico to actually reveal that he was into you. Was he serious? Had he always been into you? You felt faint as you thought about everything that just happened.

When you finally regained control of your senses, you quickly turned to face Nico. There was no mistaking the large smile plastered across his face. You blushed deeply as you attempted to fight back your emotions.

"What?" Nico asked with excitement.

"Do you mean it?" You squeaked.

Nico laughed as he nodded vigorously. "Of course I mean it!"

Your heart soared as you smiled brightly at Nico, reaching forward to hug him. He embraced you tightly as you continued to cry, this time tears of joy.

After another minute, you broke apart from each other. Nico looked at you with the goofiest face possible.

"Were you jealous, schatzi?" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, "Shut up."

He chuckled as he patted your shoulder, "It's okay to admit it, sometimes jealousy is a good thing."

taglist

@lovelynikol16

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist for any of the players i write for, please let me know!)

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello I hope ur request are open! If not be free to ignore this!! Okay so TADC x y/n? (The amazing digital circus also it can be muti characters or one!! The choice is yours!! ^ ^)

OKAY OKAY SO WHAT IF..🥁🥁🥁 y/n was like Jessica rabbit from "who framed roger rabbit" 👀 and was very like motherly to everyone but when she was called doll,/toots,/ect, by jax or anyone SHE WOULD PUNCH THEM HARDDDD (kinda like the lola bunny fanfic??) Also she is like one inch taller then jax (she a tall women👀❤️)

(HAVE FUN WITH THIS IDEA!! DONT RUSH YOURSELF TO DO IT TAKE UR TIME ON IT!! AND DRINKS LOTS OF WATER AND EAT FOOD!! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT!!🫶🫶)

Digital Circus x a jessica rabbit-type reader!

since im a little melty brain from blasting through a bunch of requests today im going to do part of the cast! mostly characters i think would be interesting with this kind of reader as well as some characters i just wanna write more of (cough cough kinger cough cough)(i was originally going to do gangle as well but uhuh!!) ...this reminds me ive never watched who framed roger rabbit... or rather i have, but its been so long that ive truly forgotten nearly every aspect of the movie relying on the character wiki talking about her personality to guide me through this

CAINE:

caines and jax's parts are both likely going to be on the shorter side thanks to both of their cores holding similar themes in regards to half of the idea

anyways he's going to call you pet names, especially if he's interested in you.. good luck trying to land anything on him, though, he's going to easily zoom through the air

okay nod to the lola bunny request aside, i think caine would be just head (jaw?) over heels for you, i mean, he would be anyways, but something about your caring and quick witted personality

probably makes literal heart eyes at you and audibly goes "awooga"

absolutely loves watching you do your thing during the in house adventures, on the few times he actually spectates them; though you may or may not be the reason he watches

seems like the kind of person to call you "hot stuff" or "babe"

doesn't really care about the height difference since he rarely ever stands on the ground anyways, plus he doesn't care how small he is

JAX:

to get a good idea of how jax would interact with you, i recommend this similar post! hope this links correctly, im still new to linking stuff in my posts!!

a lot of elements from the post above bleed into this, but lets add some more to it to make it a little more unique to the jessica rabbit idea!

takes it upon himself to try to get some sort of reaction out of you, outside of the name stuff... which proves to be a little harder than he thought.. actually, oddly enough, you seem to enjoy his antics?

well thats certainly new to him...

aaaaaand oh! hey would you look at that you've officially caught his attention, congratulations!

does not take too kindly to being the new second tallest, though... sure you're barely taller than him but its the principle! how can he lord his height over everyone else now!

KINGER:

so here's where i may be biased since i love kinger and i wish more people wrote for him, so his part may be a little longer, we'll see! i write these lil notes as i work on the post

right away i dont think he would call you any of the petnames listed above, or anything similar. i think, should you guys get on a nickname basis he would call you sweeter ones, "my love," "my darling", "my sweetheart", and similar stuff!

does not have lightning reflexes like jax and caine but if the names genuinely do bother you he would likely stop, you'll just have to remind him

imma be so real this man needs someone to stand back and just be there for him because he is going through it, so to have someone in his corner who has his best interests at heart will really do a lot for him

no comment on the height difference since kinger is pretty tall himself (and hes taller than jax! the only reason jax isnt upset about that is because kinger is always hunched), but i dont think he gives a darn about height

i am once again thinking about the in house adventure prompt with kinger that i had earlier, where he gets stuck somewhere and you have to go rescue him... this + that prompt, JUMPS UP N DOWN

[obsessivestar]

Ted but like he takes you xmas shopping and its so jolly and fun and merry i just love ted and i think hes neat :33

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Ted Nivison x gn!Reader

Warnings: Bit o' anxiety at the beginning, one use of Y/N, feminine lingerie spotted

You and Ted had both gotten rather busy throughout the last few weeks. Normally you spread your Christmas shopping out and go on different days throughout the months of November and December, but so many things had gotten in the way for both of you, so you both decided to dedicate an entire day to Christmas shopping for your friends and family, and maybe a little for each other if you got the chance. Where's the best place to go other than your local mall?

Ted drove the both of you to your local mall using his Toyota Tacoma, of course, and managed to get you guys a good spot by the food court entrance so it wouldn't be too much of a walk to get back. Once you get inside the mall, you're immediately hit with the overwhelming bustling atmosphere of a local mall during the holiday rush. There was a giant Christmas tree posted up in the middle of the food court, the ceiling covered in a few different white Christmas lights, though it was midday so they weren't on. There were so many different kinds of people with tons of different bags they were lugging around, all talking over the subtle Christmas music playing throughout the entire mall, walking in slow strides through the thick mall traffic you expected to see. You let all of the pessimistic thoughts run through you now so you wouldn't be miserable laster. God, you're gonna have to walk behind slow people all day. Can't wait to get stuck behind a slow family of 15 walking in a horizontal line, covering the entire lane. The lines are probably gonna be nuts, you might get bumped around by strangers, think of all the bags you're gonna have to carry...

You're snapped out of your pessimistic thoughts by Ted taking your hand into his, pulling you closer to stand at his side. He was probably reading you like a book, he could tell that you were getting a little overwhelmed with everything.

"Hey, I'm right here, alright?" He gives you a reassuring warm smile, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. "Just stick by me, I've got everything mapped out. We won't be here long.."

His warm smile was definitely reassuring. It was nice to know that he had put some thought into this trip to minimize stress, maybe you would be able to find a way to enjoy this, despite all of the people.

The mall was mostly just one big circle with a few extra hallways, so you knew you'd only be doing one rotation. The first place you goto is a smoothie joint to grab something to drink, wanting something sweet and fruity to boost your spirits. Of course, Ted wouldn't let you pay for your own smoothie. He claimed it was faster for him to get it all on one order so you didn't have to wait for your separate orders. Sometimes it bothered you that he was always so quick to spend money on you, but honestly, you didn't bother arguing with him about it today, it would take too much time.

Your next stop, of course, was a Bath and Body Works for all of those in-laws that were difficult to shop for. This was actually where you started to relax a little more; where you started to enjoy this little adventure with Ted. You spent a majority of your time here sniffing the different candles, debating whether or not to get some body wash or hand sanitizer for home, silently cackling a little at the prices and being a little surprised by their Men's focused section. Bath and Body Works sells Men's cologne? Neat. Maybe you'd grab some here for Ted for his birthday next month.

After buying some candles and body wash for family, your next stop was the GameStop. You came here to shop for a majority of your guy friends, on and off YouTube. You checked out the different games on the back wall, looked at the Funko pops and figurines on the other side, went down the middle aisles to check out the sweaters, shirts and hats and even took a gander at some of the more expensive merch on the too shelves, the shelves you knew you couldn't reach on your own at all. You and Ted had hit the jackpot coming here, going back and forth with each other while showing different things.

"You think Eddy would like this?" Ted walks up and shows you a hat while you were looking over the different figurines. It was a simple cap with the Kingdom Hearts crown on the front. It looked pretty nice. You turn to look at it, raising a curious brow at Ted.

"I mean, I know he likes Kingdom Hearts.." You speak softly, tilting your head a little. "Does Eddy wear hats though?"

You could see the gears turning in Ted's head and he lets out a huff, making you giggle a little. He adjusts all of his stuff under his arm so he can take his phone out and you see he's opening Instagram. You let out a laugh of realization. "Are you checking his Instagram?" You ask with a big grin, furrowing your brows a little. "You have to check his Instagram to know he doesn't wear hats?"

Ted let's out a cheeky little chuckle, but groans when he realizes you were right. "He doesn't wear hats.." Ted sighs, sounding both amused and disappointed. He slips his phone back into his pocket, looking back at the sweatshirt rack. "I think I saw a, uh...Kingdom Hearts sweater back there. That might work."

"Yeah, probably. He'd like that."

You ended up leaving that GameStop with a rather large bag and a new, interesting story you couldn't wait to tell Eddy at the New Years party at the end of the month. You guys move through the curved hall of the mall where all of the phone-related shops are placed and get a moment where you can actually appreciate the holiday atmosphere. There's hardly anyone down this particular hallway so you get to slow your pace a little, walking side by side with Ted, your fingers still comfortably intertwined. The internet and the convenience of online shopping has made Christmas spirit a little harder to feel, especially when you think about how malls like this used to be decorated, but as you begin to walk by the beautifully decorated Mall Santa plaza, Winter Wonderland playing through the old fashioned looking speakers, hearing children call out to their parents with joy and laughter...you could feel it. You could really feel the warm, jolly spirit of Christmas.

You notice that you and Ted had begun to walk to the beat of Winter Wonderland, quiet little smiles on your faces. You turn your head briefly to look at him, and he looks at you, the white Christmas lights making his hazel eyes sparkle in your direction. He looks content; he looks warm and happy to be here with you, and that just makes your smile grow. You feel like you're in a cheesy Christmas film as you both let out a gentle laugh, picking up the pace a little when the mall traffic begins to pick up once again. This is actually really nice. Those pessimistic thoughts from earlier have been completely replaced. You're starting to think about all of the friends and family you'll both get to see, how excited you are to witness their reactions to their gifts, knowing that it all came from the heart, relatively.

You were looking forward to it all, you weren't even thinking about the gifts that you may be getting. Sure, in the back of your mind you were thinking about what Ted would end up nabbing you, but Christmas isn't about the gifts. It's not about one upping toxic members of your family by spending the most money or getting the biggest gift, it's not about hogging all of Christmas dinner, it's about being with the ones you love while you still can. Some people don't always get to see their parents every year, some don't always get to see their aunts, uncles, friends and cousins. That's what makes getting together during the holidays so special, no matter what you're celebrating. You couldn't wait to see Ted's family this year, then getting to see your own. You couldn't wait to eat a great meal with great people, to show family how much your cared and cherished them, to celebrate the end of the year with all of your closest friends. Man, this adventure with Ted was making you sentimental. Christmas spirit, huh...

You are once again snapped out of your thoughts by Ted stopping by a Victoria's Secret to look at some Christmas red Holiday lingerie. He gestures to the garter belt and knowingly raises his brows at you. Ah boy, here we go.

"You're not getting me that.." You slowly shake your head at him, looking him over with a smirk of disbelief.

"Oh yeah? Why not?" Ted smirks back at you, his eyes flicking down to the mannequin that wore the whole fit. "You don't like it?"

"I like it, but it's not worth it." You shook your head once again, keeping yourself outside of the store. "I'm tellin' you, it's not worth it."

"How is it not worth it?" Ted's smirk grows into a suggestive smile. "C'mon babe, looks worth it to me."

"You really gonna buy that just for me to wear it once?"

"Yeah, that's worth it."

"Check the price tag."

"I can afford it, (Y/N)."

"I know, but check it anyways."

Ted let's out a soft huff and glances down at the price tag sticking out of the lingerie. I see his eyes widen and he lets out a scoff.

"It's 140 dollars!?" Ted raises his voice in shock, immediately getting a little embarrassed. You can't hold back your laughter, watching as he nervously covers his mouth and scurries out of the shop, returning to your side.

"You're right, you're right.." Ted groans softly, rushing passed the store with you. "Not worth it."

You continue to laugh until the store is out of sight. Oh he was so right, this has already been so much fun. We start to really get into the spirit of the holidays, making a brief detour into the dollar store to buy bags, wrapping paper and most importantly: matching Christmas hats, though the one you bought ended up being a little big around your head. Ted thought it was cute, occasionally having to pull the hat back by the white pompom to make sure you could see where you were going. At this rate, you're having a great time at the mall. The long lines just gave the two of you an excuse to giggle and joke around before having to pay at the register and return to the mall's main hall.

The last store you ended up hitting was a sort of local hobby shop for those miscellaneous friends and family that liked a little bit of everything. This place sold books, board games, calenders, little trinkets and toys, dice & figurines for DnD, any little obscure thing you wouldn't normally think of was in this store. You and Ted were once again spending more time just looking at and messing with the little trinkets in the store rather than discussing what to buy for whomever. You only split off when you both get distracted by something. You spend way too much time trying to get the high score on a Bop-it toy while Ted was talking to the employees about different board games that interested him, but he never ends up buying any of them. You only end up leaving with a bit of dice and some squishy toys for some of the younger members of your family. You would've bought the Bop-it, if you didn't already have one at home.

Before you know it, you've circled back around to the food court, quite a few bags filled with gifts wrapped around your arms. While you're here, you mind as well get some lunch. You both find a place to sit so you can take turns getting your food. Ted decides to wait with the bags so you could go wait in line first, but he gives you his wallet, because of course he does.

"I can pay for my own food, Ted." You have this knowing grin on your face as you look down at him, placing one hand on your hip with the other holding his wallet out to him.

"I know, but it's Christmas." Ted gently pushes your hand away, insisting that you use his wallet. "You deserve a treat, babe."

"It's not Christmas." You smirked, raising a brow at Ted. "It's Thursday.."

"It's the season of giving! C'monnnn.."

You roll your eyes at his insistence, but again, the sooner you agree to this, the sooner you can go home.

"You're lucky I'm overstimulated.." You huff with a grin, turning away to go get your food.

"Love you too, babe."

You wait in the somewhat long line for your food, order it, get it from the counter and head back to your seat so Ted could get his food. It takes him a lot longer to get back, so at that point, you both decided to take your meals to go and leave out the food court exit. This adventure was definitely a fun one. You got over some anxiety, you bought some great gifts for your friends, many laughs, a new Bop-it highscore and it was all shared with your lovely partner, Ted Nivison. As Ted puts the bags in the backseat, you slip back into his Toyota Tacoma and let out a sigh of relief. You spot him through the rearview mirror, watching him tuck a smaller bag that you didn't recognize into the giant GameStop bag. You glance back at him with a curious smirk and he meets your gaze, a sheepish little smile spreading along his blush-toned lips.

"Did you see that?" He asks, slipping back into the driver's seat.

"That small bag?" Your smirk turns into a knowing grin, getting your seatbelt on. "Oh yeah."

"No you didn't." Ted let's out a deep chuckle as he starts up his truck, smiling at the laugh you let out in response. This guy. This fuckin' guy. You have no idea when or how he could've bought something for you today, or what it even could be. You couldn't think of a single moment where he was out of your sight...

...did he buy that while you were distracted by the Bop-it? Motherfucker--