#otp: frosted cookies

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Be My Valentine?

Pairing: Bernard x Nicole Blake

A/N: It’s still technically Valentine’s Day! So have a short fic of Bernard asking me on our first date! And Happy Valentine’s Day!

Nic poked her head into the kitchen, brown hair frazzled despite its small ponytail. She blew a strand of hair from in front of her face. “We have a quarter of a tray of brownies left! We’re going to need more brownies in the next ten minutes!”

“I got you, Nic!” Jade shouted, pulling a tray of brownies from the rack. They were carried to the front where they replaced the nearly empty tray of brownies, the old being stacked on top of the new. As Jade disappeared back into the kitchen, one of the bakery’s employees, Brad, entered from outside the front.

“Van’s full and ready for the deliveries,” he told Nic, handing her the keys.

She hated driving and making deliveries, but the only other people allowed to drive the company van and make deliveries were either in the kitchen finishing the Valentine’s orders that were expected to be picked up, or on vacation. So she was stuck with the responsibility.

Nic sighed heavily as she clutched the keys. She started to untie her apron. “Think you can handle the front without me?” She asked both him and Bernard, who was scooping chocolate chip cookies into a bag. They both nodded, but Bernard was the one who replied.

“Absolutely. We’ve got this,” he told her.

Nic smiled and reached over to pat him on the arm.

Bernard felt all of the air leave his lungs in the moment her hand connected with him. His face suddenly felt hot and his hands froze in his movement. Nic didn’t even notice his lack of response as she tugged on her jacket and headed for the door.

“Don’t get into too much trouble without me!” Nic jokingly told them as she stepped out of the front door. It shut behind her, the bell ringing as it did.

Even once she was out of sight, his brain wasn’t working. All he could think about was that she touched him. Her hand was on his arm.

An elbow to his ribs pulled him from his train of thought, but his heart continued to flutter. He looked over at Brad who smirked at him as he rang up a customer. It was an open secret in the bakery that Bernard had a crush on Nic. Everyone knew, even the owner. Well, everyone except for Nic. She was somehow oblivious to his feelings, despite the longing gazes he gave whenever she left the room.

“Shut up,” Bernard mumbled, moving to fill the order in the hope it would keep the blush from growing further on his face.

Noon came and Nic had come back from making the deliveries. She rejoined Bernard and Brad in the front, helping them with customers and filing orders. During a lull in service they leaned against the counters and chatted. Brad told them about his plans to propose to his girlfriend during their Valentine’s dinner.

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Bernard asked Nic as she took a big gulp from her water bottle.

She shook her head. “I’m just going to go home and order some Chinese and watch Star Wars. I never have Valentine’s plans.”

“Oh. Never?” He inquired, and Brad hid his smirk behind a bagel. “I just thought, maybe you’d have plans.”

“No, I’m kind of married to work right now. I’m first to come in and last to leave. Same with today, actually.” She pointed to both men. “You two are clocking at four-thirty like everyone else. No buts.”

“And you do this every year?” Bernard asked.

“The last four that I’ve worked here,” she said, stepping up to the cash register as a family came into the bakery. “Now look alive, gentlemen. We have some cookies to sell.”

Nic had just finished sweeping when she heard the door to the bakery open. It was five minutes until normal closing time so she assumed it was a regular customer unaware they closed early. Wiping her hands on her pants, she walked into the front of the bakery.

“Sorry, we’re closed. Come back in the morning–” Nic paused when she looked up and saw Bernard standing in the middle of the bakery.

His hair was combed neatly and he was dressed in a button up shirt. In his hands was a bouquet of red roses. He had an anxious expression as he shifted on his feet. His face shifted to bright red as he looked at her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day?” He greeted.

Nic walked from behind the counter, mouth agape as she stared at him. Bernard held the bouquet out to her. She took it from him gently. “Thank you.” She gave him a shy smile. “What’s this about?”

“Do you want to go to dinner? Together?” He asked her hesitantly.

It took a moment before she could respond, not expecting the words that came from him. She nodded before she could speak. “I’d like that. Um, let me lock up.” She rushed behind the counter to grab her jacket and the copy of the keys to the bakery. “Do you have any ideas of where we’re going to dinner?”

Bernard shook his head, stepping over to help her put her jacket on. “I thought I’d let you pick.”

She smiled at him. “I know a place.” Nic leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bernard.”

#reblogs are appreciated and encouraged #mywriting #otp: frosted cookies #grumpy elf 🎄

[anonymous-pod1]

H elp i keep shipping them skdjsadj

#frost queen cookie #black pearl cookie #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #otp #what #i love them both #why #htkdkdkwldk

[cocobnuuy]

karin x frosted sugar cookie my new otp

pic of her nomming the cookie separated from the rest is under the cut

ughhhshhjshfsjhd ._.

Small edit: inspired by this of course

#my stuff #art #fan art #fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #fear and hunger 2: termina #daan #karin fear and hunger #daan fear and hunger #f&h #karin #karin sauer #daarin #daan x karin #chubby karin supremacy #IM SORRY

[charlottecbordeaux]

Recently my grandma died and I was need of something to heal myself with since having two family members gone within a month was too much.

I’m doing fine now but everything is still bitter and I’m not doing well when looking at other ship art than my otp. Not to mention that losing followers on my main twitter has got into me.

But I kinda wanted to post this up somewhere since I thought it looked nice enough to share.

Warning tho. Canon/OC (Almond/Marigold)

(PlzgivemeOTPfluffimdeadinside-(

[First cuddles]

A: -not looking up from his newspaper- Marigold.

M: -Was dusting off the shelves- Y-Yes Mr.Almond Cookie?

A: I was wondering… Ya wanna sleep together tonight?

M: …!?

A: We’ve been officially dating and being together for a few months now. I was wondering if… Ya know. Maybe we could… Um… -blushes and scratches his head- … Cuddle in bed?

M: -starts to blush as red as a tomato- Wha- UM. -fidgets with fingers-

Almond: …

M: B-But when I s-sleep flowers grow and, and, I get get n-nightmares, I might snore, I-I um, Uhhh-

A: You don’t snore Marigold, and if ya did I wouldn’t mind anyway. Same goes with the flowers.

-Almond stands up and walks towards Marigold. He embraces her from behind and wraps his arms around her-

A: As for the nightmares… If ya get any I’ll be right beside you when you wake up from them. -pecks a kiss on Marigold’s cheek- So what’d ya say?

M: -looks down still blushing- O-okay…

[Night]

M: -sits on the bed holding onto her nightgown tightly as her face glows red-

A: -comes in the room- Sorry, Walnut got out for a glass of water- -looks at Marigold- Ya know you don’t need to be that nervous.

M: I-I’m sorry…! I-I-I just, t-this is my first time doing something l-like this.

A: (Actually this is our 2nd time-) Relax. It’s not like I’m going to do an interrogation on you or anything… -slides into bed behind Marigold- I just want to be with you, that’s all.

M: -blushes more red-

A: -beckons Marigold to come in bed next to him-

M: -starts to walk over to the opposite side and slides into bed next to him-

A: -gently pulls Marigold closer to him and hugs her close-

M: -Blushes more red as she finds herself in his chest-

A: Mmm… There we go.

-Almond nuzzles his face to Marigold’s gold frosting hair, taking in the faint sent of marigold flowers in him. Then he looks down to Marigold softy kisses her forehead.-

M: -holds onto Almond as she takes Almond’s affection in-

A: -chuckles at the blushing cookie at his chest- … Cute.

M: !////

A: -laughs out-

M: -hides her face into his chest and hugs him back a bit-

A: I guess it’ll take a bit of more time till you get used to this huh Mari?

M: -nods but freezes- M-Mari…?

A: Ah- Um, I hope ya don’t mind me putting a pet name on you.

M: Pet….??

A: It’s something someone uses on someone they love. Since your Marigold I was thinking if I could call you Mari when it’s only us… To make it special.

M: Ah…

A: If you don’t like it I can stop-

M: No no! I- I’m okay… I, um… -blushes again and hides her face- I never had anyone call me like that before… I think it’s nice Mr. Almond Cookie…

A: -smiles and kisses Mari’s head- Glad you like it love.

M: (L-love…) -blushes more-

A: … Mari.

M: Yes?

A: I want you to call me by my name for now on.

M: But I call you by your name?

A: What I mean is I want you to call me “Almond”. Just “Almond”.

M: -starts to blush more- A-Almond only…?

A: Yeah.

M: ….

-Marigold blushes and looks away for a bit. After taking a deep breath she opened her mouth a bit to say her lovers name-

M: A… Almond… Cookie.

A: -smiles- Can ya say it one more time? Without “Cookie”

M: A-Almond…

A: Again. -starts to slide his hands over her back-

M: Almond

A: -smiles- Yeah, just like that.

M: -smiles back sheepishly-

A: Mari…

-Almond holds Marigold’s face and strokes it with his thumb before leaning into her for a loving kiss to her lips. Marigold kisses him back, as she does some flowers start to sprout from the bed.-

M: S-sorry Mr. Almond-

A: -Ahem-

M: Ah-

A: Mari?

M: Almond… -blushes-

A: -smiles and gives her another kiss- There we go…

-The two smile and hug each other close-

(If your wondering when was the first time they slept together it was the time Marigold attempted suicide. Almond managed to stop her from crumbling herself up in the sea while also confessing his feelings to her. After a while they went back to his house by car. Marigold fell asleep in the car so Almond carried her up her room. When he set her down on the bed and started to leave he noticed that Marigold was holding onto him so he decided to sleep next to her.)

#almond cookie #cookie run oc #canon/oc

[hihimissamericanbi]

The Watcher and the Dancer

Rating: T

Pairing: F/F

Relationship: James/Sirius

Wordcount: 9,857k

Summary: Walburga was still talking too loudly, unaware her eldest daughter had paused her Fall Out Boy playlist minutes ago, but Siri did nothing to disabuse her. She wanted to exist in a few more moments of precious liminality, fraught with fragile expectation: the “before” of a summer vacation, dreaming of memories caressed like worn sea glass before having to go and actually break the bottles that make them.

AKA: Dreamy sapphic summer crush fic set in New England in the aughts with a side of sister feels

Notes: Hi! Hello! I am old and don't know how to use Tumblr at all but decided to try to post this here while I wait to join AO3? For context: Wolfstar is OTP but I wrote this with OCs originally (like not as a marauders fic), then decided it could work as Prongsfoot so I made some tweaks and here we are. Fem Siri and Jamie because it's my fic and I said so. Based on my experiences so please be nice? Also kind of my love letter to Maine. Promise to write Wolfstar and Jegulus in the future, as it should be (actually, very big believer in Jegulily, might do that first...)

--

So wear me like a locket around your throat, I’ll weigh you down, I’ll watch you choke, you look so good in bl—

Siri paused her pink iPod mini as she felt the rental car slowly swing off the paved road and decelerate onto a bumpy dirt path, dusty granite crunching beneath tires while low-hanging birch boughs screeched against the windows.

“Alright everyone, electronics away, we are almost there!” Walburga yelled unnaturally loud from the front. Siri winced but didn’t say anything. Leaning against a pillow on the window opposite her, Regina blinked her eyes open and frowned. Red patches flushed high on her pale, nap-creased cheeks as she wiped a bit of dried drool from her chin with the heel of her palm. Siri snorted. Regina flicked her off, holding her hand down low so their mom couldn’t see in the rearview.

Siri rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the window, where the trees were thinning to make way for one of the strangest views she had ever seen.

Life-sized gingerbread cottages, painted pale gumdrop colors and trimmed with lacey eves reminiscent of piped frosting, lined the street one after the other like tin soldiers in an old-fashioned Christmas movie. They stood sentry to welcome the Black family forward, Range Rover groaning as it crested the pebbled hill, Dorothy stepping from her black-and-white world into a sugar-bright alternate universe. Just beyond the houses, the Penobscot Bay shimmered blue and magical; it winked at Siri between each latticed cornice and Victorian spire as the car trundled bravely onward, following the gray-gravel road deeper and deeper into the Azure City.

“Welcome to Bayville, girls. Your father and I trust you both will be on your best behavior, and that you will remember you are young ladies. We are taking you on this very nice, very expensive vacation; we expect you to act accordingly.”

Walburga was still talking too loudly, unaware her eldest daughter had paused her Fall Out Boy playlist minutes ago, but Siri did nothing to disabuse her. She wanted to exist in a few more moments of precious liminality, fraught with fragile expectation: the “before” of a summer vacation, dreaming of memories caressed like worn sea glass before having to go and actually break the bottles that make them.

“Do I hear a ‘Yes, ma’am?’”

Siri physically startled at the warning tone in her mother’s voice. She and her sister chorused the required reply automatically.

The car squelched to a halt alongside one of the cookie-cutter dollhouses, patchy green grass muffling under tire treads. Siri took her headphones off and reached for her seatbelt; chipped silver nail polish flashed in the afternoon sun as she unclipped the buckle, and she made a mental note to redo her nails tonight before her mother saw.

She took a deep breath and opened the car door.

And oh, the smell; it wasn’t like anything she had ever experienced. It wasn’t just briny ocean and wet grass and fallen pine. It wasn’t just heady florals and baked limestone and fecund soil. This scent was far greater than the sum of its parts: stirred up in a summer-sun cauldron and poured out across the coast, it smelled like familiar laughter and promises to be kept.

It filled Siri’s nose and lungs only after it filled her heart.

It would be remembered for the rest of her life.

--

After claiming the upstairs room to the front of the little house, with a window box full of geraniums peeking from behind billowing white curtains, Siri found herself wandering down the main road, away from her father’s loud complaints about a lack of cell service for his Blackberry and her mother’s backhanded comments regarding the cleanliness of the cottage. She wanted to be long gone by the time either of them decided to turn their attention to her.

Regina tagged along. Siri ignored her.

Less than a quarter of a mile later, the knot of strange little cottages leftover from a different century opened into a semicircle, proudly overlooking a sailboat polka-dotted bay where sapphire waters faithfully reflected the cloud-clear sky.

The Black sisters stood on Bayville Beach, such as it was, only about 30 yards wide and covered in rocky pebbles turning to treacherous boulders. Primary-colored canoes and kayaks were tied up along the mouth like obedient Labradors, waiting for their masters to take them for a swim. A dock rose to the right and jutted out into the water; a cerulean-painted covering sat square in the middle of the old wooden planks. To the right of that, a tiny yacht club perched on the cusp of the ocean, triangular emblem flown modestly above the slated roof. Behind the sisters, a sloping center lawn with a few ancient oak trees and wrought-iron park benches guided vacationers down towards the water, verdant arms swept wide, beckoning, those cotton candy cottages lining the edges like flagstones.

With a toss of her dark wavy hair, frizzing fast in the ocean breeze despite the John Frieda serums and mousses with which she had diligently coated the strands, Siri hopped up onto one of the bigger rocks along the beach and picked her way across the shore. She held her arms aloft for balance, paying special care not to slip. Tiny crabs skuttled within sunken tidepools; salted kelp rocked back and forth with the waves. The fabled Maine sun caught on the edges of everything, lighting up the cove like a glittery disco. She could hear Regina whining warnings from the safety of dry land. Siri ignored her.

When Siri got as far as she could before the shoreline sheared off into untamed wilderness, she turned carefully, Rainbow flip flops catching on the occasional barnacle, and made her way back to her little sister. She was almost to the beach before she looked up.

On the path behind Regina, appearing from behind the blue structure in the middle of the dock, were a group of teenagers making their way up the grassy hill. They were in various states of swimwear; boys with baggy trunks and loose tee shirts, dampened in places by saltwater clinging to not-fully-dried skin, girls largely in cutoff jean shorts and bikini tops. All had beach towels around their necks and were laughing loudly.

Regina whipped her head around at the commotion and stared. Siri felt her cheeks flush; she was perched precariously on a boulder several feet from land, suddenly faced with a bunch of unknown peers. From behind Regina’s mop of raven curls, longer and fluffier than her own, Siri locked eyes with the tallest of the pack, a pretty girl who looked about Siri’s age, black hair piled high in a messy bun.

The girl flashed a criminally blinding grin and waved. Siri startled and snapped her eyes away.

The sudden movement caused Siri to lose her footing. She scraped her ankle on the rough granite as she stumbled ungracefully off the rock into the shallow water.

Regina laughed. Siri ignored her.

--

Two days later, and Siri was bored. The rain arrived in Bayville almost as soon as her family had, crowding out the finnicky northern sun with dull clouds and a frustratingly steady drizzle. There was only so much War and Go Fish a rising junior could play with her eighth grade sister before one became a sore loser (eighth grader) and the other got hangry (take a wild guess). So now, Siri was sitting on the front porch, stomach growling, watching the rain muddy up the gravel while pretending to do her summer reading. Huckleberry Finn. It was brutal.

Siri perked up at the tell-tale crunch of a car about to pass slowly in front of their rented cottage; honestly, she was like a dog left home alone, staring out at the street, desperate for any stimulation. The car in question pulled into view from the left, heading in the direction of town. It was a beat-up black SUV, rap music thumping over the drone of the rain. As Siri watched, a pretty face with a mess of black hair and oversized glasses appeared in the front passenger window. The face saw Siri and did a double take, craning her neck to keep Siri in her vision as the car went by.

“Young lady, what do you think you are you doing?” Walburga stuck her immaculately coiffed head out of the screen door. Her pink lipstick shone lurid in the overcast light. “Come inside before your hair is ruined.”

Siri blinked, closed her mouth. “Yes, momma.”

For the next three days, the pretty girl with the wild hair could be seen passing the cottage on a morning run. For the next three days, Siri sat on the porch to eat her breakfast, Huckleberry Finn laying uselessly on the side table.

--

Jamie Potter, Siri would soon learn, was the owner of the pretty face and the blinding smile and the morning runs that happened to take her past the Blacks’ cottage.

Almost a week into their stay, Siri was once again sitting on the front porch, sipping her coffee and pretending to read. The sun had mercifully returned; she and Regina had spent some time exploring, wearing swimsuits underneath shorts and tee shirts, venturing to the beach or the dock or the little corner store out by Route 1, faded sign reading “Cote’s Old-Fashioned Ice Cream and Burgers” hung reverently against Nantucket red siding. They had seen the group of teenagers here and there, sunbathing on the dock and flirting shamelessly with the college-aged lifeguard, or gearing up outside the yacht club for a sail, or playing basketball on the courts near the central lawn after dinner. The tall, pretty girl seemed to always be in the very middle, laughing the loudest, touching the most. Like she was the sun their little social circle revolved around. Siri had watched the group hungrily, desperate to be included but far too terrified to make any moves. Regina, meanwhile, was too caught up in having her big sister all to herself to much care about hanging around even more moony high schoolers.

Siri took another gulp of coffee and watched the morning sun catch on the graveled hill, flecks of mica sparkling beneath lingering dew. She imagined a dark ponytail swinging into view from over the crest, followed by long, powerful legs, propelling their body impressively up the incline. Then, she wasn’t imagining it; she was watching it.

Only this time, the powerful legs slowed and the girl trotted to a walk, breathing hard. A hand reached up under the hem of her tee shirt, stopping at the waistband of rolled Soffe shorts to pause the iPod Shuffle clipped there, flashing a sliver of tan skin in the process; her other hand tugged out her headphones.

Siri immediately looked down and picked up her book, not wanting to embarrass herself by inviting any sort of acknowledgement of her existence. She could feel her face turning red and her pulse picking up.

“Hey!”

Siri continued to pretend to read. There was no way this girl was actually calling to Siri.

“Hey!!”

Siri looked up with a start. Fuck. The girl was leaning over the railing of the porch, grinning right at her. It wasn’t entirely innocent, somehow.

“Hey,” Siri choked out. How were this girl’s teeth so white?

“You’re new this year, right?”

Siri’s vision was tunnelling; she was having a hard time processing the girl’s words. She wished she would stop blushing.

“Sorry?”

The girl seemed to smile even more at Siri’s confusion. It made her deep rosy flush from exercise pop beneath her complexion.

“It’s just, we’ve been seeing you around, but no one knows who you are—”

No no no no no people have been noticing her?!

“—and you haven’t come said hi.”

Siri was going to die, simply pass away from embarrassment. “Um, no, yeah, I mean, we haven’t been here before…um, so…” Siri barely remembered to smile. It probably looked more like a grimace.

“Exactly!” The girl’s eyes narrowed playfully. They were dark brown and incredibly expressive. “I would definitely remember if I had seen you before.”

Siri wasn’t sure what that meant, but the girl didn’t pause long enough for her to work it out.

“Don’t you want to hang out with us?” The girl craned her neck and leaned farther over the railing, peering into Siri’s lap where her book split open, still on page 10. Siri could pick up the fruity scent of her deodorant. The girl’s eyes flicked back up to Siri’s. “Or do you want to sit and read…"

“…Huckleberry Finn.”

“Yikes.” The girl’s teasing smile was replaced with a look of horror.

“I know.” Siri felt her mouth relax a little, a small quirk of her lips.

The girl shook her head, like a buck huffing in annoyance, bordering aggression. She cracked her knuckles, continued. “…Or do you want to sit and read books by dead white guys on your porch all summer.” It wasn’t said like a question.

“Um. Okay?”

“Okay what?” She was bouncing up and down on her toes, hunched over the porch railing. Sunkissed shoulders poking up from rolled tee shirt sleeves. Deep-sea dark eyes boring into dawning-sky gray.

“I—” This girl was very disorienting. “Sure. Let’s hang out.”

The girl’s face split back into a grin, like that was its natural state. Though her cheeks were made round and even more rosy by the smile, her eyes didn’t crinkle with it the way most people’s do, Siri thought.

“I’m Jamie.”

They stayed sharp and honed.

--

Siri’s summer looked very different after that. Following her introduction, Jamie Potter had promptly asked for Siri’s cell phone number (written on Jamie’s inner forearm with a sharpie Siri found in the little kitchen) and told her “they were having a dock day, after sailing,” whatever that meant. But Siri had agreed to meet outside the yacht club at 1pm that afternoon, promising to bring snacks and a moderately-behaved thirteen-year-old.

“Dock days,” as it turned out, consisted of spreading towels on the far side of the dock, behind the little blue gazebo (every square inch of which, upon closer inspection, was covered in scrawled names, dates, hearts and the like: a living history of summer lovin’), and eating chips and salsa while soaking up temporal sunbeams and wearing as little clothing as possible. Flirting was a prerequisite, Siri had gathered from her week-long observations from afar, but there wasn’t much of anyone she felt the need to devote such attention to. She was thrilled just being included, happy to sit quietly on her hibiscus-printed towel and follow Jamie’s cues, laughing at the right places and inserting a quick one-liner here and there where she felt confident enough to deliver.

The group ranged in age, which gave Regina a few peers to talk to while Siri fell into Jamie’s orbit. Jamie was a year older than Siri and had her childhood best friends Remus and Peter staying with her (“Their families ship them off to Maine with us every summer. They are a pain in my ass—ow! hey—but I love them.”). Then there were the twins, Gillian and Fabian, also a year older than Siri, then Tuney and her little cousin Lucy, who were a couple years younger. Tuney’s older sister, Lily, was away at some competitive chemistry program for the summer, and apparently things were much more subdued this year without her around to get everyone into trouble.

“The definition of chaotic evil,” Jamie had explained with a twinkle in her eye and a faraway grin tugging her lips. Siri was glad Lily wasn’t here this season, but she wasn’t sure why. Probably just because she didn’t like getting into trouble—at least anywhere her mother might find out.

Siri soon learned the ins and outs of the little group that pulsed the beating heart of the magical seaside village. Most had been coming here every summer since they were little, growing up on bowline knots and July sparklers and Gifford’s blueberry ice cream. They had a hearty skepticism for “renters,” as they called them: part-time vacationers who came and went without getting much involved in the community. When Siri had asked why they had befriended her, since she was a “renter,” the boys had looked away sheepishly and Jamie had scoffed. “Please,” she had said, bumping her bare shoulder into Siri’s, “Like my idiot brothers-from-another-mother would ever forgive me if I didn’t introduce you.” Remus and Peter had turned bright red and then shoved a cackling Jamie, whereas Fabian had met Siri’s gaze, unashamed, and smirked. Siri hadn’t known how to react, besides blush furiously. Were they making fun of her? She felt rather exposed. Regina had squeezed her hand protectively. Siri had squeezed it back.

By this point, Siri had already analyzed everyone’s physical shapes and quirks in comparison to her own, a foible of adolescence she couldn’t wait to grow out of. She tanned easily and had a flat stomach, badges of pride for any teenager under the tyranny of Laguna Beach and Abercrombie, but she was self-conscious about her small chest, wide hips and unshapely legs. Jamie was a star athlete back home in Massachusetts, championing in soccer and tennis, and was lean and strong, everywhere. Siri envied the way she filled out her bikini top during the day and her low-rise jeans at night.

Siri’s hair was rather untamable (“Mia Thermopolis hair”, the other cheerleaders called it), especially in the humid sea air, and never dried soft and silky like the most popular girls’ seemed to. Jamie’s hair was a paragon of that effortlessly messy look: never frizzy, but piece-y and wavy, jet-black with shots of caramel laced through from days in the sun, it reached passed her shoulder blades even when pulled into a high ponytail. Siri would discover she loved playing with it, braiding its dampened ends while Jamie lay on her stomach on the dock, water droplets sliding down the soft skin of her back, or gently brushing it out after a day of sailing, working through the knots with careful fingers.

Then there was Siri’s face. People commented on Siri’s face a lot. She generally refused to leave the house without makeup on, and had even packed waterproof formulas for this vacation. None of the other girls in Bayville seemed to wear makeup.

Siri wondered how they still looked so pretty.

She wondered why Fabian was looking at her like that.

--

Dock days turned into movie nights and lunches at Cote’s, which turned into card games on front porches and excursions to the Coffee Pot in town for “Potts” sandwiches, a play on Jamie’s last name that seemed to have existed longer than some of their younger siblings had been alive. Siri couldn’t believe that not only had she been included in this tight-knit group who were so wary of outsiders, but that their central star paid so much attention to her. Jamie, as the leader, was the one who texted Siri when plans for an adventure were being made to ensure sure she didn’t get left out. She always spread her towel next to Siri’s, yellow stripes beside pink and orange flowers, and was the first to whisper jokes and confidences into her ear. She made sure to get an extra side of ketchup in addition to her mayonnaise—“Mayonnaise is white people’s greatest invention, I’m telling you,” she would say, while mixing in pinches of extremely hot spices she kept tucked away in her bag for such occasions—when she ordered fries, in case Siri wanted some, and punched the boys wordlessly when they inevitably crossed the line (which was about seven times a day).

They took Fabian’s battered SUV inland to go blueberry picking, blasting Panic! At the Disco and Kelly Clarkson and singing along with the windows down. Despite their parents’ explicit instructions to collect more than they ate, they spent most of their time horsing around in that green-and-gold field, sated with fruit, laughing freely and dreaming loudly beneath a buttercup sun and bluebird sky.

Predictably, Fabian got bored and started throwing blueberries at Siri. Jamie got irrationally irate every time he did so, eventually turning it into a competition to pelt him with as many blueberries as possible in return. Somehow that turned into an argument over who was taller; Fabian was also athletic and played lacrosse, but was on the shorter side for a guy. Jamie insisted they go back-to-back and demanded Siri be the judge. Siri felt uncomfortable for some reason, but acquiesced. Jamie’s sparked eyes stayed trained on Siri the entire time, something plaintive behind them. When Siri objectively announced Fabian was taller, the plaintive glint hardened sharp and heavy. Neither girl smiled when Fabian whooped with victory.

Siri sat next to Gillian on the ride home.

--

Evenings in Bayville took on a completely different tone, exchanging sun-soaked shimmer and the smell of No-Ad sunscreen for the heliotrope haze of dusk, citronella wafting heavy on the night air. Those summer nights weren’t just dark and twinkling, they were laden with potential energy, the silver ball perched at the top of a physics experiment, a penalty shot lined up against a tied score and less than a minute left.

One navy night, Jamie had taken Siri by the hand, identical sailor knot bracelets scratching against each other’s wrists, and dragged her to her mom’s porch. This was an important ritual in Bayville: hopping from porch to porch after the sun sets to receive parental praise and affection and, if you were lucky, leftover lobster meat or a fresh-baked whoopie pie. This was the first time Siri had been included.

Mrs. Potter was sitting in a rocking chair, reading glasses perched on her nose and a cup of chai on the little table beside her, paperback novel splayed open in her hands. A generous lilac bush off the corner of the cottage steadily pulsed out its sweet perfume, writing itself into Siri’s memory like a madeleine on the tongue.

“Hi Mommy!” Jamie rushed up the steps and then swooped down to give her mother a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Mrs. Potter didn’t even have time to respond before Jamie gestured proudly to Siri.

“Mommy, this is Siri!” Jamie stepped back with that Cheshire grin, the one where her eyes stayed sharp, vibrating with excitement as she directed her mother’s gaze.

“My goodness, she is beautiful, isn’t she,” Mrs. Potter commented, surveying calmly. She was smaller than her daughter, with a weather-worn face typical of New England parents, dark hair shot with gray. Siri could tell, however, where Jamie got her eyes: Mrs. Potter’s were piercing and narrowed in an eerily familiar fashion. The breeze picked up; lingering sea-salted air blended dizzyingly with the evening florals and spiced tea.

Siri stammered through her blush. “Oh! Um, thank you… it’s nice to meet you.” She really wasn’t sure what she did to deserve getting double-teamed by the Potter Stare.

“Ugh, Mom, I told the boys to stop being gross about her!” Jamie whined.

“I didn’t hear it from the boys,” Mrs. Potter replied, still calm, still piercing. “There are whoopie pies inside on the counter. Help yourselves, girls.”

For some reason, Jamie flushed almost as deeply as Siri.

--

One rainy afternoon, Jamie and Siri perched across from each other on Siri’s bed, beat-up Vera Bradley toiletries bag sitting between them on top of the multi-colored patchwork quilt. Tuney and Lucy were in town at the movies with their families; Gillian was back home at a women’s lacrosse camp for the week. Regina had whined to be included, but Siri had kicked her out unceremoniously.

The two friends were meticulously stroking colored paint onto their toes: crimson red for Siri and metallic gold for Jamie. Siri’s mother would kill them if she saw they were using nail polish on the bed without a towel, but hey, Siri’s a rebel.

“Can I ask you something?” Jamie ventured without removing her focus from the task at hand—er—foot.

Siri’s breath caught a little at the change in tone. Just moments ago, they had been talking about their respective AP Lit reading lists and decrying the lack of women authors. “Sure,” she replied, keeping her voice light.

Jamie eyed the concealers and eyeliners spilling from Siri’s bag. “Why do you always wear makeup? I mean, it’s Bayville.”

Siri bristled automatically. She got teased a lot back home, either for wearing too much makeup or not enough. Always, it came back to her face, and the expectation Siri accepted unquestioningly that she owed the world perfection, and she better not dare present their judgement-day eyes with anything less than that.

She continued applying the blood-red paint to her toes, not looking up. “I mean, everyone wears makeup in Georgia,” she began defensively. “And I cheer, and I’ve done pageants—"

“Shut up!” Jamie interrupted, jaw dropped, pedicure abandoned, gold bottle of polish eagerly twisted shut and tossed carelessly onto the bed. “You’re a beauty queen?!”

Siri chanced a glance upwards. Jamie looked like Christmas had come early. It was not the reaction Siri usually got from other girls when that bit of information got pried from her.

“I mean… I never won or anything,” Siri shrugged, looking away, out the rain-splattered window. The nail polish brush in her hand hovered precariously over her left foot, threatening to drip red all over her careful paint job. “But yeah, I’ve done some of that, and like, modeling, for like department stores and stuff…” The geraniums bedded in their little window boxes outside were getting absolutely pummeled by the downpour.

“Do you like wearing makeup every day?”

When Siri returned her gaze to the room it caught on Jamie’s fish-hook stare, already angling to snag her. Siri didn’t look away.

“I like feeling pretty.”

Jamie held her gaze. “That’s not the same thing.”

Siri searched Jamie’s face for the inevitable cruelty that always slipped in front of jealousy like a vicious guard dog, brutally defending young girls against the pain of insecurity, the fear of rejection, of abandonment. Siri had wielded it thoughtlessly as much as she had been hurt by it, time and again.

But in Jamie’s brown eyes there was no trace of green, only curiosity, and maybe something a little softer? A little… safer? Jamie blinked, tilted her head and let a tiny smile crease the corner of her marble-carved mouth, encouraging Siri.

Siri sighed and dropped her eyes back down, finally closing the bottle of nail polish. She wouldn’t be able to say this next part if she was looking directly into the face of the prettiest girl she had ever seen. “I don’t like how I look without make-up. Sometimes, it’s… it’s all I can think about. How I look.” Siri had never confessed this to anyone before, this shameful, vain secret. “I wish I could be like you… you don’t need make up.”

The next thing Siri knew, warm, soft hands were gently but firmly holding the sides of her face, tilting her jaw up, making her breath catch with the sudden contact. She kept her gaze downcast until the last second, and when it finally did rise it was swallowed immediately by entire galaxies.

Jamie and her swirling orb eyes were maybe a few inches away from Siri’s, staring intently. She spoke with conviction.

“You don’t owe the world shit.”

--

Siri couldn’t rollerblade. Normally, that wasn’t much of an issue for her. It only became one when Jamie, accomplished athlete with a doe-like grace and the stubbornness of a young buck to match, found out.

So, on a Friday evening around the summer solstice, Siri agreed to let Jamie teach her. In exchange, she had bargained for minimum one hour with Jamie’s stunning face all to herself and her Vera Bradley makeup bag. Siri was chief makeup artist on the cheerleading bus for a reason; it was a creative outlet, painting on shadows and colors and creases to create a work of art you can smile and blink and laugh through. Putting makeup on others allowed Siri to embrace the artistry of it, rather than fight against the compulsivity that overshadowed her own complicated experience.

Jamie had arrived at the Blacks’ cottage around 6pm, just after an early dinner, and followed Siri up to her room where she could work her magic. Siri had been glad her parents were out for the night—she had heard enough off-color comments from her mother about “that Potter family” over the last few weeks and didn’t want to put Jamie at risk of hearing any of it. Regina, the better hairstylist of the two sisters, had been permitted to give Jamie two long French braids that showed off the subtle variations in her thick dark hair, shiny onyx strands rippled with chocolate and auburn.

Now, Siri was starting to regret her actions; the dramatic smokey eye she had indulged in creating electrified Jamie’s laser-beam gaze to the point of distraction.

It made it all the more difficult to stay upright on two thin rows of wheels.

“Jamie!” Siri squealed with a jolt of adrenaline, windmilling her arms out as she lurched forward, gaze ripped from Jamie’s face to the fast-approaching ground. The taller girl cackled but caught her with one hand all the same. Siri clutched at it like a lifeline, heart still pounding.

Their hands stayed clasped. Siri’s heartbeat stayed elevated.

They had found a bit of paved road, out closer to Route 1, and slowly made their way along the empty stretch before them, rolling farther from the safety of the familiar cottages with their slamming screen doors and sneaky garden gates, venturing onwards as the sun sank fast into an approaching dusk.

Both girls were clad in denim miniskirts; Siri’s was dark wash and kept riding up her hips as she maneuvered along the asphalt in a pair of old skates borrowed from Jamie. She had to keep tugging at it from underneath an oversized gray college-branded hoodie, so large it threatened to swallow her petite frame all together. Jamie’s mini was a light wash and fitted tightly to show off her strong thighs and butt. Paired with white and yellow layered tank tops that she filled out so enviously well, Jamie Potter looked like nothing less than Roller Derby Barbie. When Siri had told her so, Jamie had almost skated into a tree.

“We’re close to Cote’s,” Jamie commented after a stretch of not-quite-comfortable silence. Siri was grateful for the interruption; she got along better with Jamie than anyone else in Bayville, but one-on-one hang outs with her were becoming threaded with something unsettling, an uncomfortable crack of buzzed-out current that kept Siri’s body tipped on the edge of fight-or-flight. “Want to get an ice cream?”

There was something in the way she said it that made Siri look over at her friend in the fading twilight. Jamie’s eyes were practically glowing, the whites phosphorescent against her dark irises and the looming forest shadows, but there was still enough light to see her cheeks were darkened. Siri didn’t think she had put that much blush on her; she hadn’t wanted to pull focus from her eye makeup. Furthermore, in a way that didn’t usually accompany casual suggestions of ice cream, Jamie’s eyebrows were oddly drawn together. Siri wanted to reach out and smooth them, trail her fingers down her cheek, maybe hold her jaw tenderly and—

Oh.

Shit.

Siri gulped.

--

When they rolled up to Cote’s, however, the two girls were not alone. Fabian, Remus, Peter, and a couple more boys Siri didn’t recognize were sitting at one of the picnic tables out front, eating burgers and fries and making a general ruckus. It was late enough that a street lamp had flickered on, bathing the scene in artificial light. It made the faces of the boys glow eerily, joker grins and flinted eyes.

Every pair landed on Siri and Jamie and stayed there. Grins growing wider.

“Oh shit, look who it is!” Fabian was the first to crow. Remus groaned, no doubt annoyed by the unwelcomed intrusion of the two girls.

The two new boys made no pretense about continuing to stare openly.

Jamie’s grip on Siri’s hand tightened briefly before dropping.

“I was just teaching Siri how to skate. She’s never tried.” Jamie sounded uncharacteristically defensive. Territorial, even.

“What happened to your face?” Remus deadpanned. Fabian snickered.

Jamie drew herself to her full height, even taller than usual with the roller skates, and looked down her nose at the entire table. “She did my makeup. I love it.”

“It looks like you got punched,” Peter offered.

Fabian chimed in, “Why do you even wear that stuff? Girls look better without makeup, anyway.”

Siri and Jamie let that comment hang in the air for a beat or two. Watched Fabian squirm a bit.

“Gross,” Siri pronounced, once she had determined their point had been made. Jamie cracked her knuckles.

“Anyway, we were just here to get some ice cream. Come on, Siri.” Jamie made to grab her hand again and stomp them both into the tiny store, skates and all, when Fabian grabbed Siri’s other hand.

“No, Siri, stay with us. Potts’ll get your ice cream, right Potts?” He grinned up at Jamie, laying on the charm. A strange, fiery look passed between them before they turned to the girl in question.

Siri, not wanting to draw out—whatever that was—quickly agreed, pulling herself free of their grips. “Yeah, you go, I’ll wait out here.”

But at Siri’s response, Jamie’s face immediately clouded over into something downright murderous. Her eyes flashed as she turned and clomped into the store. A beat passed before Remus hopped up and announced he wanted some ice cream, too, and dragged Peter along with him. Fabian called to get him a cookie dough. Remus flipped him off without turning around or loosening his grip on Peter.

Siri carefully lowered herself to perch on the spot vacated by Remus, next to Fabian. She had her back facing away from the table along with the two random boys and was angled towards the door of the shop. She picked at a hangnail. Fiddled with a coil of long hair, dried curly after a day of dock jumping. Hoped her stupid fucking red cheeks could pass as exertion from roller skating.

She felt Fabian scooch closer. He muscled a tricep into her shoulder blade to get her attention. When she turned to look, he was leaning in, face close.

“Uh, these are my buddies from home, Benji and Caradoc.” Drew gestured to each boy across the table. “Guys, this is Siri.” He was hunched over and not quite making eye contact. He fidgeted with a few cold fries.

The weird energy pushing uncomfortably around them had Siri too agitated to remember to smile, but she did at least adjust her body to face the boys. They were built similarly to Fabian and both sported flowing locks peeking out beneath baseball hats.

Siri was outnumbered three to one by lax bros. She looked around for Satan, wondering why he wasn’t present to welcome her to what was clearly hell itself.

The boys still hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“Shit, dude, you weren’t kidding about this place,” one of the boys—Caradoc, maybe?—smirked cryptically. The other boy snorted, nudged the first.

Fabian’s eyes widened and he threw a soggy fry across the table. “Shut the fuck up,” he mumbled.

They were all saved by the tinkling of the shop door as Jamie, Remus and Peter returned, ice creams dripping from their hands. Siri scrutinized Jamie for a sign of what might be going on, but the taller girl kept her eyes averted and mouth set in a determined, hard line. Remus appeared frustrated, Peter nervous.

“Thanks, Jamie.” Siri spoke sincerely, trying to catch her friend’s eye, as a cone piled high with fruit-flecked ice cream was deposited emotionlessly into her hand.

“Welcome.” Jamie replied. She grabbed a stool from the outdoor counter, carried it over, placed it across from Siri and Fabian so the three of them formed a triangle of sorts, and threw herself onto it with her legs splayed despite her skirt. Somehow, she held onto her strawberry ice cream effortlessly throughout the process—rollerblades be dammed.

Remus, meanwhile, leaned on the end of the picnic table next to Fabian and handed off the requested cookie dough cone. He began eating his own chocolate ice cream quietly. Peter skulked behind him and slurped a milkshake.

“What flavor did you get?” Fabian asked Siri, low like he was only talking to her.

“Black cherry.” Siri spoke loudly as if it were a group conversation. “Jamie knows it’s my favorite.” She punctuated the statement with a smile in her friend’s direction, rolling over, a submissive flash of soft white tummy.

Siri’s tail went between her legs when it wasn’t returned; Jamie’s stare was trained on Fabian.

“Wanna try mine?” Fabian proffered his cone to Siri. She could hear more snickering from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum behind her.

Siri whipped her head around. “Oh! Uh—”

“Come on, it’s good.” Fabian cracked a shit-eating grin. “My cone needs to be tasted.” All four boys, minus Remus, were snorting heartily.

But before Siri could vocalize the acerbic reply forming in the back of her throat, Jamie suddenly leaned forward off her stool and licked Fabian’s cone herself, tongue wide and pink against the creamy vanilla. Her eyes met Siri’s as she flicked the tip of her tongue up at the crest of the cone, cream dripping down into her mouth, before pulling the clever appendage back behind her teeth, swallowing, and finishing off with a final swipe of her full lips.

Oh.

Shit.

“There.” Jamie concluded, sitting back. Siri’s mind was blank. “Your cone has been tasted. No one else needs to be subjected to it. Besides,” —a cocky wink to Siri, a shrug to the boys— “it could have been bigger.”

Everyone, even Remus, howled with laughter; it was peak “that’s what she said” era.

Everyone except Siri.

--

“Truth.”

Siri and Jamie were laying on a blanket in the grass, flat on their backs, looking up at the stars. After they had finished their ice cream, Fabian had given the girls a lift back to Bayville. He had offered Siri shotgun but Jamie had complained her long legs meant she needed the front seat more. Eager to please and wanting to get back into Jamie’s good graces, unsure why she had even fallen out of them in the first place—must be an only child thing—Siri had acquiesced and sat in the back with the rest of the boys. To her relief, it seemed to have worked. Jamie was back to her usual loud, joking self as soon as Fabian had dropped them off.

They had stopped at the Blacks’ cottage to change out of their skates and grab a blanket—hot-blooded Jamie refusing to borrow a sweatshirt—before wandering down to the central lawn ostensibly to stargaze but really to giggle and gossip. It hadn’t taken long to strike up a round of Truth or Dare; Siri had just selected truth.

“What’s your number?” Jamie asked in the direction of the North Star.

Siri turned her head, traced her eyes over Jamie’s profile outlined in the moonlight. Her nose was elegant, fit perfectly to her face, her top lip pouting prettily just beneath it.

“Zero,” Siri answered after a beat. Unashamed, but also unsure.

Jamie turned her head as well, brow furrowed almost in offense, eyes deep and searching of Siri’s face.

“You can tell me.”

Siri smiled with only half her mouth, derisive. “Trust me, I would.”

Jamie’s gaze refused to let up. Siri could feel heat prickling along her hips, under her arms. “I…yeah, there hasn’t been anyone worth it, I guess.” Her pulse was throbbing harder the longer Jamie looked at her like that.

“What about you?” Siri asked, looking for relief: Jamie’s stare was like an exacting silver needle, threading the two of them together without mercy, sewing them closer and closer.

Jamie made a strange face; a little sad, a little hopeful. “Just one. My ex-boyfriend. Sophomore year.”

Siri took a breath, to work out how she felt about that. “Did you love him?” Siri decided she hoped she loved him. Hoped he loved her, more like. Jamie deserved love, all of it.

That needle-eye stare punctured the night with quiet catching sounds as it stitch, stitch, stitched away, pricking spindled fingers with gift and curse alike as Jamie Potter thought hard before answering.

“In a way, yeah, I think so.” She turned back to the stars, pulling but not snapping the immortal threads. “I definitely thought I did.”

Siri didn’t respond, but redirected her gaze skyward as well. The two girls simply breathed together, laying side by side, woven and watching as the earth turned. Nature was serenading them ardently, crickets and frogs awake and amorous, calling for mates. The gentle lapping of the bay against well-worn rocks and weathered boats and steadfast pilings and rooted banks beat in time to steady stolen hearts; the rustle of oak leaves in the trees above, caught dizzy in a midnight breeze, blew secrets in and out of seashelled ears.

Siri felt like Ariel, floating in a blue lagoon. Just missing a crooning crab.

Then, to the moon: “Was it good?”

“It hurt,” Jamie replied, also to the moon. “But I wanted to do it. I just, haven’t really wanted to… since then.”

The wind picked up and Siri looked over in time to watch Jamie shiver. Goosebumps erupted all down her toned arms and chest, across the gleaming tops of her breasts gently swollen against the moonlight. Siri allowed her eyes to continue trailing downwards, clock the evidence of Jamie’s chill even through her bra and layered tops.

Siri turned and sat up, pulled off her own sweatshirt with crossed arms, pink Abercrombie polo getting caught up a bit in her effort. When her vision reappeared from the tangle of cloth and curls, Jamie was staring at her.

“Here.” Siri tossed the sweatshirt, still warm with her body heat, into Jamie’s lap. Jamie didn’t move. Siri raised her eyebrows. “I know you’re cold, Potts, I just watched you shiver.”

Jamie didn’t smile, but sat up slack-jawed and put on the sweatshirt without protesting. That’s a first, Siri thought.

“Your turn.” Siri said once Jamie was bundled up. She missed the sight of her smooth shoulders, her sculpted clavicle, and okay, yes, her tits in those tank tops, but there was something pleasant about seeing Jamie in Siri’s clothes that made it worth it. Plus, in their new semi-seated positions Jamie had her long legs stretched unendingly in front of her, ankles crossed, as she leaned back on her hands. The top of her shin bone seemed to fucking glow, radioactive in the mirror-blue night. Siri’s legs were curved under her as she sat slightly hunched toward Jamie, close to the bend of her waist. “Truth or dare.”

Jamie surprised Siri by picking truth.

“Ok…” Siri’s eyes flicked to Jamie’s perfect mouth. She took a risk. “What’s the deal between you and Fabian?”

Siri was braced to get told off, or for Jamie to dissolve in girlish denial. Instead, she was serious, considering carefully before replying. “He used to have a crush on me.” She twisted her neck, popping the joints. Looked out towards the water. “Followed me around all last summer, like a lost puppy.”

Siri snorted at the image. “Did you like him back?”

Jamie pulled her mouth to the side, lifted a shoulder. “Not really.”

Siri thought of the boys back home, a few in particular… always lurking around hall corners and by lockers and on sidelines. She could relate.

“So what’s different this year?” Siri pressed, slightly afraid of the answer.

Jamie leveled Siri with a look, ancient amber sparked with starlight. “Well, you’re here.”

Ah, fuck.

Siri sighed, looked away. Forced herself to ask, “Are you jealous?”

“Maybe a little,” Jamie whispered.

Siri’s heart sank like the Heart of the fucking Ocean. She turned her head fully away from Jamie, looking over her shoulder at the dark trees and shadowed cottages in the distance. Most of their lights were out.

“Well I don’t really like him, like that, so,” Siri mumbled into the darkness, giving Jamie the green light. At least now it was out in the open. Maybe now they could go back to being normal friends.

Well, normal-ish, for Siri.

Jamie, however, perked up, excited. “Yeah? You don’t?” She shuffled forward, angling her face to try and catch Siri’s avoidant eye.

To Siri’s horror, she felt heat press into her sinuses, her throat, her eyes shimmering and shaking, threatening to spill at any moment. She really didn’t like Drew, so why did she care so much if Jamie did?

You know why, Inner Siri whispered.

Go to hell, Denial Siri muttered back.

She took a shaky breath in, forced her emotions back down—stomped on them with gusto, really. “It’s your turn to ask. Go.”

“Truth or dare.” The pleased smile in Jamie’s voice carried, although Siri still hadn’t turned back around to face her. Hearing it in this context felt like falling from a stunt; a deeply unpleasant drop in your stomach followed by getting the wind brutally knocked out of you.

Siri sighed again. “Truth.” She had learned long ago never to pick dare. At any rate, she found people fascinating, their secrets, their fears, their dreams: learning those intimacies and sharing them back helped her love deeper, love specific, when she chose to. Like right now, Inner Siri noted, smug. Shut the fuck up, Denial Siri replied, pissed.

“What about just kissing? How many guys have you kissed?”

Siri should have known Jamie wasn’t going to let the general topic go. She groaned and rolled her head back, exasperated, before finally lolling it around to glare at Jamie, whose braids were still holding her thick hair tight away from her face, fine baby hairs whisping in front of her ears and over her brow. Dark eyes rimmed in charcoal smoke glinted with intent: mischief, and something else Siri couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Siri inhaled, nostrils flaring. This one was less fun to talk about.

“None.”

Jamie’s jaw dropped. But her eyes. They positively lit up, bright and keen.

“None?!”

Siri shook her head. Thought, again, of the simpering boys back home, of Fabian and his friends from earlier. Sure, those guys were hot, but the thought of trusting them enough to hold her, touch her. It just didn’t make sense.

“I’ve only kissed two guys,” Jamie quickly offered. There was something unspoken behind her teeth. “My ex, and a random boy at the 8th grade dance.”

That seemed odd to Siri. Jamie was friendly, popular. Confident. Girls like that had no trouble kissing for fun.

“Okay then.” Jamie sounded like she had decided something, God help us all. She angled her body, taking Siri’s silence as some sort of invitation, and gave her an uncommonly brilliant demonstration of the Potter Stare paired with her signature smile.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Siri gaped; blood coursed through her ears. No, no, no this wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t like that—a pity kiss, or, or an experiment or something silly to giggle about—

“It’s not your turn!” Siri sputtered. “And… I didn’t pick dare! I never pick dare.”

Jamie was leaning towards Siri, head tilted down so she could quite literally bat her thick, darkened eyelashes up at her. “Don’t you want to kiss me?” she pouted, smiling. Cheeky. Siri felt a shiver ignite down her helpless spine.

The problem was, Jamie had no idea how badly she did.

Siri was powerfully reminded of the first time they met. “Don’t you want to hang out with us?” She was so sure, so confident. Easy. Everything Siri was not.

Now, Jamie’s face had turned on a dime from flirty to focused. It was a little terrifying.

Because behind that carefree ease and sunlight smile, Siri knew, there was a deep and raw hunger. An ache to be needed. To be seen, and delighted in, just as she tries so hard to see and delight in everyone else around her.

Siri saw Jamie.

“I… I don’t.” Siri swallowed, tore her eyes away. “I don’t want it to be a dare.” She was grateful for the darkness, knowing that for once her berry-red face was getting some camouflage.

Jamie, meanwhile, changed tack. Siri could still feel the intensity of her gaze, but she also felt her sit up a little, square herself, blend her characteristic curiosity into that swirling stare.

“What about not guys?” Jamie asked evenly.

Siri frowned, mirrored Jamie’s body language, met her eyes once again. “What?”

She repeated, patient. Dead serious. “How many not-guys have you kissed?”

Was Jamie asking what Siri thought she was asking? Siri was silent, could only stare, searching her face for clues.

It had gotten closer to her own, somehow.

Stitch, stitch, stitch.

Jamie took a deep breath, eyes locked on Siri. “I’ve kissed… a few not-boys,” she confessed.

Did Siri imagine it, or did Jamie’s eyes flit down to Siri’s mouth when she said it?

Then, slowly, unbelievably, Jamie reached out a warm hand. Siri’s breath hitched and something flipped pleasantly low behind her tailbone as with the backs of her knuckles, Jamie tenderly brushed a lock of hair from Siri’s forehead, fingers turning and tracing down her cheek, so impossibly soft and delicate. Ice and fire whooshed simultaneously along Siri’s face where the tips of Jamie’s nails caressed her skin; Siri’s eyes fluttered shut. She leaned into the touch.

“I don’t want it to be a dare, either,” Jamie whispered, honey-glazed, low. Assured.

Siri’s heart stopped. She opened her eyes.

And Jamie’s were dancing, burning waves of desire, a whirlpool and Siri was drowning. Jamie’s fingers slid from Siri’s cheek to grip deep within her hair, hold her firmly around her jaw and neck.

She was so close now there was hardly any space left between them. Siri’s lips parted with soft pants. She could feel Jamie’s breath on her tongue, creamy and sweet.

“Siri, I—” Jamie murmured against Siri’s open mouth, nosing into her. “I want to.” She gripped the other side of Siri’s face, fierce, desperate. “I want you.”

Siri closed the distance.

And it was… Fireworks? A revelation? Angels singing Handel’s chorus in four-part harmony?

It was so easy. So easy to revel in the feel of Jamie’s lips on her own, to slowly open her mouth for her, willingly, taste her, gently. So fucking soft and warm and wet and sweet, a delightful echo of the ice cream she had so lustfully watched Jamie lick away at earlier, sugared vanilla and tangy fruit, filling up her mouth and tongue.

Jamie expertly maneuvered Siri’s face sideways with knowing hands still holding her neck, sending Siri’s stomach swooping down to her toes (though it felt more like a well-executed tumbling pass than a dropped stunt), and deepened the kiss.

It was incredibly sexy.

Jamie’s tongue was down her throat and butterflies were rioting through her body and congregating between her legs and in her pelvis and Siri pushed in, gripped the front of that damn sweatshirt, wanting more. She felt their teeth bump and their movements fall out of sync, but then Jamie merely giggled into her, the corners of her mouth pulling with her smile and pushing that fucking tongue out of her mouth just that little bit to meet her own outside their lips.

So they did that for a minute. Just took turns carefully, slowly pushing each other’s tongues back and forth, fingers dancing over smooth cheeks and warm necks and warmer waists, peppering in soft licks and nips to bottom lips, growing plumper and redder by the minute. Siri was pretty sure she was remembering to swallow, because nothing felt too sloppy, just really fucking hot.

So hot that she somehow ended up straddled on top of Jamie, skirt hiked up by those confident hands dangerously high on her thighs, rolling her hips hungrily, even aggressively, against Jamie’s body and feeling her so fucking soft underneath her.

She wasn’t sure who came up for air first. It might have been Siri, but only because Jamie tugged deliciously at the roots of Siri’s curls, forcing her head back and making her moan out to the stars and the moon above while Jamie collapsed against her throat.

“Holy fucking shit, Siri.” Jamie panted after a beat, looking up into her face, wild-eyed. Shocked.

“Sorry! Jamie, sorry, I—too much?” Siri struggled to catch her breath. She wasn’t sure how, in the span of twenty minutes, she had gone from never having a first kiss to rutting into the hottest girl alive in a semi-public area. Her underwear felt uncomfortably wet.

She didn’t hate it.

“Jesus Christ, no,” Jamie breathed through a maniacal grin. And Siri saw then that the shock was really pride.

Smug, cocky, balls-a-swinging pride.

And under that, a deep and radiant and joy-filled relief.

Siri figured it was probably reflected incandescently on her own face.

Inner Siri agreed.

--

She was sprawled on her tummy in bed, heart still pleasantly in her throat and head very much still on the lawn under the stars, when the unmistakable feeling of being watched prickled across Siri’s already-sensitive skin. Sure enough, she rolled over to find a familiarly slender shadow quietly darkening the small crack in her bedroom doorway, belied only by the faintest creak of old floorboards beneath socked feet.

“You’re back,” the shadow said.

Shortly after midnight, Jamie had walked Siri home, hand protectively around her shoulders and Siri nuzzled happily into Jamie’s chest, arms encircling her waist like a needy koala, enveloping each other in the smell of hair and skin and laundry soap as they had stumbled up the hill. Siri had taken care not to wake her family when she crept back inside the cottage, parting kisses stolen behind blind-eye hedges after giggled insistences to keep it, I like seeing it on you.

“Obviously,” Siri whispered, waiting.

Wordlessly, Regina pushed Siri’s bedroom door open enough for her to slip inside and pad over to the bed. The wrought iron frame groaned, unnaturally loud in the still of the night, as she wiggled beneath the covers next to her sister.

Regina’s copious curls spilled across the pillow, taking up half the bed with untamable tendrils and tickling Siri’s nose and neck. Siri pushed them away, pressed her icy toes under Regina’s calves.

Their breathing evened as they settled next to each other, Siri on her back, looking up at the moonlight cast in scattered shapes across the ceiling, Regina on her side with her head tucked in like a burrowed kitten.

“How was it?” Regina whispered into the covers.

“Good.” Siri replied, guarded. The butterflies she had been enjoying were flying right up her throat and out her mouth with each exhale, leaving just plain nerves in their wake. She wasn’t sure what Regina would say about, well, everything.

“I talked to Remus, after y’all came back from Cote’s.”

Siri glanced down at her sister. “Oh?” Remus wasn’t particularly intimidating, but he was a boy several years older than Regina, and Siri didn’t think they had had any direct conversations before.

“He said it got a little… awkward,” Regina tried delicately.

Siri sighed. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Regina’s eyes opened and batted up to look at Siri, eyebrows and lashes dark on her pale face. She looked impossibly young, tender, like a fawn waiting patiently for its mother in the wooded thicket. “And that someone likes you.”

Siri thought of Fabian, and Remus, seated next to each other on the picnic bench, their reactions when she had rolled up. Fabian’s immature behavior. She groaned.

“Yeah… I figured.” Honestly why did it always come back to a freaking guy? Was this really what it was always going to be like?

“So… did something happen?” Regina pressed.

Siri never lied to her sister, so she didn’t say anything.

Regina could read her like a book anyway.

“Did you guys kiss?”

Siri breathed out, barely a whisper. “Yes.” Her lips quivered. “But it’s not with… it wasn’t who you think.”

And all the emotions and the overwhelming bigness of just, everything, came crashing back, and the tears Siri had stomped down earlier finally spilled hot down her cheeks.

Regina was calm, steady. Blinked her fawn eyes gently.

“Was it Jamie?” She had always possessed a wisdom beyond her young years.

Siri turned a tear-streaked face to her sister. Cried a little harder. Nodded.

Regina shrugged. “Remus said he and Peter were pretty fed up with how she was acting. Wanted her to just go for it already. He asked me if I thought you liked her back.”

“Really?” Siri smiled, watery, hopeful. “What did you say?”

Despite her sensitivity, Regina was still a sassy little shit. She rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

And there, in the soft quiet night with silver moonbeams carrying dreams and desire back and forth across a star-strewn bay, Regina hugged her.

Siri hugged her back.

--

On the easternmost tip of the country, dashing up 95 or lazing along Route 1, over tiny suspension bridges and past sleepy lobstering towns and through fields alive with black-eyed susans and purple clover and Miss Rumphius’s famous lupine,

down dusty country roads that crunch under car tires and kick dust behind sneakers,

between paper-white birch trees and evergreen pine lined with split-rail fences and wild rose bushes hiding monarchs and honeybees,

tucked among rocky, cragged coastline where red quartz cliffs break squally sprays over pebbled stones warmed gray by the sun,

following the call of seagulls and dinghy bells and misplaced rhotic consonants within winter-gruff voices (ayuh),

where the smells of white bar soap and mineral-crusted pipes and salt, salt, salt mingle with those of lilac and bug spray and ozone,

there lies a fairytale village on a wishful blue bay.

And if you make pilgrimage to its venerable wooden dock, last stop before plunging into ocean deep,

and perhaps rest on its cerulean-bright benches, look out in wonder at how blues so blue can exist, and whites so white, and greens so green, and breathe what feels like nothing, the air so crystal clean,

and sigh and turn your head, look north, you might see

written in black sharpie, bubble letters marking permanently chip-worn paint,

the initials JFP + SOB.

And somewhere to the left of that, your curious eyes tracing, find that same sharpie and youthful handwriting among the various inking and carving,

SOB + RAB

#marauders #prongsfoot #sirius x james #twatd #sirius and regulus

[dont-call-my-name-alejandro]

Winter Otp Prompts ☃️

A waking up and noticing that B isn’t in bed with them, so they start looking around the house before finally spotting them outside the window, seeing them playing in the fresh snow.

A, the taller one, holding up B so B can add a decoration they wanted to put up higher on the tree.

A and B cuddling under their fluffiest blanket, sipping hot cocoa in a comfortable silence infront of the fireplace.

A and B are having a snowman competition when B “accidentally” decapitates A’s snowman with a kick to the snowface. For some reason, B didn’t expect to be pelted with snowballs by A after the incident.

A and B are decorating their christmas cookies when A’s piping bag bursts open, the frosting ruining the cookie A was decorating.

“This isn’t funny, B. I ruined my cookie.”

[Talking through their laughter] “at least.. you can’t see the ugly face you drew on it earlier-”

A frosting battle suddenly begins.

#im back babey #no guarantees #/hj #lisa's prompt sets #imagine your otp #otp prompts #write your otp #otp dialogue #writblr #writeblr #writing prompts #character a and b #person a and person b #romance writing #otp writing #winter #christmas #fanfic #fanfiction

[the-iceni-bitch]

Baking Cookies

Ninja and Puppy’s First Christmas

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader (OTP ninja and puppy)

Words: ~700

Summary: Ransom adds a special ingredient to your Christmas cookies

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of male masturbation, inappropriate additions to established recipes, almost non consensual consumption of ejaculate, 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: He’s such a little shit, you guys. I love him.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“You look awful good bending over that oven, babe.” Ransom bit his lip as he stared at your ass while you pulled the gingerbread cookies out of the oven, shrugging at you when you shot him a mild glare as you set them on the cooling rack. “What? You get all glowy and cute and that little lock of hair falls into your face, makes me want to fuck you right on the counter.”

“Oh my god, you fucking sap.” You shook your head as you walked towards him, bumping his shoulder with yours and setting the oven mitts on the counter as you watched him stir. “How’s the icing coming?”

“Oh, it’s great.” You missed his mischievous grin as you peeked over his shoulder to watch him work. “You wanna taste?”

“Yeah, gimme.” You opened your mouth when he dipped his finger in the icing, humming when he slid it between your lips and the taste covered your tongue. “Mm, that’s good. Did you follow the recipe? It tastes different.”

“Mostly followed it, I did add my own special ingredient though.” He bent to nuzzle at your hair as he wound an arm around your waist while you dipped your finger in the icing again. “Can you guess what it is?”

“I dunno, salt?” You gave him a curious stare as he just shook his head at you and gave you a very pleased grin. “Some sort of dairy? It’s thicker than normal.”

“Well, it is creamy.” He winked at you when your movements froze and your eyes narrowed at him.

“You perv, oh my god.” You slapped his chest as he let out a cackle, grabbing the bowl from him and setting it on the counter while you frowned at him. “I can’t believe you put cum in my frosting!”

“You said it tasted good!” He spluttered when you started beating him with the oven mitts, grabbing you around the waist and picking you up so he could pepper your face with kisses while you cursed at him. “You fucking love my cum.”

“Yeah, I guess, next time ask.” You huffed when he set you on the counter, dipping your finger in the icing and smearing it over his lips before kissing it off. “You only put it in this batch though, right?”

“Nope, it’s in every batch.” His grin froze when you gave him a horrified look. “What?”

“Oh my god, the charity.” You shoved him off you and scrambled to grab your phone. “Tucker picked up the gingerbread house I made for the charity an hour ago. I have to call before someone eats it.”

“Your handsy assistant was here?” Ransom snorted when you scowled at him as you dialed your phone. “Where was I?”

“Probably jerking off into my food, Helen!” You let out a relieved breath when your HR director picked up the phone. “Tell me no one has eaten the gingerbread house I sent over. Fantastic. Um, the boyfriend was helping me bake this year and, just, bless his heart, he didn’t realize the house was for consumption and put glue in the icing. I know! Good thing he’s pretty, huh?”

Ransom frowned as you chatted with your coworker, pouting when you gave him the murder glare and pinching at the hem of your sweater to try to get you to pay attention to him again. You let him curl around your back and nuzzle into your hair as you finished up, doing your best to stay annoyed, but he was kissing your neck and murmuring softly in your ear and that made it a little hard.

“I’m sorry I almost made your coworkers eat my cum.” He nibbled on your ear when you finally hung up, sliding his hands up to cup your breasts as you let out a deep sigh.

“I forgive you. But between this and eating me out in my office without locking the door, you’re going to end up getting me sued for sexual harassment.” You tilted your head to the side so he could lick a stripe up your neck.

“Don’t worry about it, I have a good lawyer.”

#natalie writes #ninja and puppy #ransom otp #ransom drysdale #ninja and puppy’s first christmas #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom x you #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans #chris evans character #eighteen plus #eighteen and over

[universallywriting]

Excuse ma'am, but your fic are good? If you like writing timebomb, can we have one for them with 28. Sugar and Spice and 19. Stockings? Or maybe 10. 'We need to hurry' idk i just love your writing --

I'm actually nonbinary, so I prefer no gendered terms! But thank you, and yeah, I can do that. Prompts referenced here:

https://lavenderotpprompts.tumblr.com/post/669294515109167104/december-otp-prompts

-----------

Jinx was in a heavy fur coat, stockings, and twirling around Lady Abraham's mansion with a massive bag of frosted gingerbread cookies. Ekko was prepared to discover a lot of things on his mission today, but this still came as a surprise.

"Uh...?" He took off his mask, raising an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. "Am I interrupting something?"

She threw her arms out wide with a manic smile. "Ekko! Welcome. I hope you're enjoying this jolly winter season. Cookie?"

Jinx offered the bag to him, dangling it temptingly in the air, and he ignored it, scanning the room for anything that might have been a bomb. "Are you here for the flux dampener?"

"Please," she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I've got a dozen better ones at home."

"Then why are you here?"

She jiggled the cookie bag, spinning it around so he could read the front. He didn't know the brand, other than it was something that had been imported from Bilgewater. She offered him one, wordless with a little quirk of her eyebrow.

He didn't really care about the cookies supply of a rich weapons dealer, so he took one and prowled the luxurious bedroom. Spice and sweetness dances across his tongue, and he could see why she'd come all this way for a taste.

"Thanks," he said around a mouthful. He pointed a finger at her, a quick up and down. "What's with the outfit?"

"I wanted to feel pretty." She twirled with a flutter of her eyes.

"Best resale value?"

"A girls' gotta eat, Ekko!"

He didn't really care about her stealing either - not the cookies, or the coat, or the stocking, or whatever else she stashed away. He wouldn't sit idly by when there were bombs around, but Lady Abraham dealt weapons. Jinx could take whatever she wanted from the bitch. He wasn't going to complain.

"You're pretty," he said. Not flirting, just casual. Friendly. He continued, "Prettier if you didn't blow up cops, but..."

She looked at him sideways. "I think I'm prettiest blowing up cops."

Jinx pushed another cookie into his hand, a sweet and spicy heart as she skipped past him. She hopped up onto the balcony railing, looking around to make sure the coast was clear, before telling him, "The flux dampener is in the atrium. Still wrapped up. Happy hunting, Hero."

She wiggled her fingers, absolutely ridiculous with a cookie between her lips and the heavy fur coat and the stockings that would surely rip before she made it home. She rolled backwards, like a diver off a boat, and she was gone.

He ate his cookie and headed to the atrium. Happy hunting.

#arcane #ekko arcane #jinx arcane #timebomb #fic

[unfortunate-arrow]

World building ask for Thea?

B A S I C S

full name: Thea Vinh Whitten

gender: (cis) Female

sexuality: Pansexual

pronouns: She/Her

O T H E R S

family:

— Robert Andrew Whitten, father

— Mai Louise Whitten née Daniels, mother [deceased]

— Darcy Mai Whitten, sister

— Clary Xuan Whitten, sister

— Edmund John Whitten, uncle [missing, presumed deceased]

— Eleanor Mary Whitten, aunt [missing, presumed deceased]

— Jack Edmund Whitten, cousin

— Benedict Andrew Whitten, cousin

birthplace: Northern Ireland

job: Herbologist

phobias: Bats

guilty pleasures: Frosting (no cake or cookies, just frosting), cheesy romcoms

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: Lawful Neutral

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert

organized/disorganized

close minded/open-minded

calm/anxious

disagreeable/agreeable

cautious/reckless

patient/impatient

outspoken/reserved

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic

optimistic/pessimistic

traditional/modern

hard-working/lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Thea x Noa March (@thatravenpuffwitch)

ot3:

brotp: Thea, Jack, & Benedict; Thea & her sisters; Thea, Sage (@kc-and-co), and Poppy (@cursebreakerfarrier)

notp:

World Building Wednesday

#thea whitten #hpma #magic awakened #i need to explore thea & her sisters more… which will be done at least a little on her new profile

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

The Day We Met

Pairing: Bernard x Nic Blake

A/N: Just pretend I posted this on New Year’s Eve like I had planned and it didn’t take me two weeks to finish this cause I’m a coward

Warning: brief mention of pregnancy; tooth rotting fluff

Nic could count on one hand how many times in a year were considered their ‘busiest’ time of the year. New Year’s happened to be one of them, and she had the (mis)fortune of being a manager this year during New Year’s Eve. She thought it would be no different from the chaos of Valentine’s Day or Easter or even Christmas, but no.

The door to the bakery opened suddenly, bell jingling as a tall, lanky college student in an apron and puffy jacket stepped outside. His arms had three boxes of various cookies, cupcakes, and other pastries in them as he walked toward the van they used for deliveries. Following him, Nic scowled at the back of his head. Her own arms were filled with large boxes of cupcakes and a cake.

“One job, Larry. I asked you to do one job, and that was to load the van thirty minutes ago!” She was overwhelmed and stressed and at her wits end with how packed the bakery was, as well as the orders they had to complete before it closed for the day. This was the last thing she needed. “Deliveries start in five minutes, how are we going to get all of these–”

A yelp escaped her as her world became horizontal, the patch of ice she hadn’t noticed being her downfall. Still, her grip on the boxes in her arms remained as she waited for the hard embrace of the sidewalk to hit her back. But it was an embrace that never came, and she opened the eyes she didn’t realize had squeezed shut in anticipation for her fall. Instead she found herself staring at the snowfall above, and a face came into view, eclipsing the gray sky.

“Are you alright?” Bernard asked, helping her stand upright. As she found her footing, Nic gave a shy smile to the handsome stranger.

“I’m fine,” she breathed out, slowly pulling away from his hold and over to the van. “Thank you for saving me.” She opened the boxes of orders, sighing in relief that by some miracle they managed to stay intact. She moved to face him, and Bernard quickly slipped his hands into his pockets. “I owe you one,” she told him before looking over at Larry. “Finish loading the van? I’ll be inside.”

As she carefully walked back to the front door of the bakery, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and was unsure what the redness on her cheeks was from: the cold, the embarrassment, or the cute guy who caught her. She tried to not let the blush work its way to her ears as she stepped inside to the warm, sweet smelling bakery and tossed her coat into the cupboard beneath the coffee station. Nic took her spot behind the pastry display to help the two employees that were taking orders and filling them. The bakery was packed, so much so that Larry had a difficult time squeezing back in to grab more deliveries, and Bernard nearly couldn’t find an empty space to get inside. Nic hadn’t even noticed her savior was in the long, jumbled line to the cash register until she stood from where she had been crouching behind the pastries, filling a paper bag with sugar cookies and macadamia nut cookies.

She was face to face with him, surprised and handed the bag of cookies to her co-worker who handed them to the customer with a handful of napkins. “Oh hey, it’s you.”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Bernard said.

“I’m fine, honest,” she told him light-heartedly. “It’s an occupational hazard. But let me get you something as a thank you.” Nic reached into her pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. She handed it to the cashier. “Ring it up for a dozen sugar cookies and a small hot drink.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Bernard began, but was quickly cut off by Nic.

“This is my way of thanking you. So hot cocoa?” She asked, stepping over to the coffee pot that they had used to make hot cocoa instead. She poured a cup and took the whipped cream from the mini fridge underneath the counter, putting a healthy amount then closing the lid. She handed him the cup, their fingers brushing causing her to fight back a shiver. Pulling her hand away, her co-worker passed the bag of cookies to Bernard.

“Oh, thanks.”

“Thank you,” Nic tried not to giggle as they smiled at each other. There was a quiet pause as they did, the cashier continuing to take the next customer. But Nic was infatuated. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes sparkle when you smile?”

Bernard felt his face grow warm. “No, no one ever has.”

“Well they should, cause it’s true.”

“Nic, we need some help back here!” Called one of the employees from the kitchen. “Truck just came in and we need another set of hands!”

“I should really get back to work…” she mumbled, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Yeah, you probably should…” Bernard nodded.

“Thank you again for saving me.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a small nod and headed to the back through the kitchen.

New Year's Day was hell. Not because most of the staff came in with hangovers, but because most of the customers came in with hangovers. Nic dreaded flipping the sign to say open, but she had to. Contractually, she was obligated.

The bell rang as the door opened, and Nic rolled her eyes as her back faced the door. She was still putting coffee grounds into the coffee maker’s filter. The bakery opened less than a minute ago according to her watch, and someone already came in. Taking a breath, she put on her best smile and in the fakest happy voice she could muster at 7am, faced the counter.

“Happy New Year and welcome to Cake and Bake–”

She paused when she saw Bernard standing in front of the door, shaking the snow off his hat. He looked up and noticed her staring.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She adjusted her apron and stepped over to the cash register as he approached. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have any job applications?”

Nic was caught off guard by that, but she nodded. “Yeah, let me get you one.” She hurried into the back where the owner’s office was. As she disappeared into the kitchen, she fiddled with the keys in her pocket to unlock the office.

“Is that—” The head baker on shift, Jade, began to say, but Nic caught her off.

“Yes.”

Jade raised a brow. “Is he here to see you?”

The office door was unlocked and light illuminated the room. Nic opened one of the filing cabinets that she knew held the applications. She stepped out and held it up. “He wants one of these.”

“So he isn’t here to talk to you?” Jade asked, dividing the dough for the croissants.

“I don’t know!” Nic exclaimed quietly, throwing her hands up as she stalked across the kitchen.

“He’s cute though!” Jade told her before Nic pushed through the doors into the front of the bakery.

Bernard stood there waiting when she came out, and she held the application out to him. He took it from her, nervously looking down at the piece of paper.

“You can take it home and bring it back up when you’re done, or you can fill it out here.”

“Thanks.” He nodded and was about to walk over to the tiny table in the far corner of the bakery before he looked back at her. “Can I borrow a pen?”

Nic took the pen from behind her ear and handed it to him. Before he could take it, she pulled back. “I want this back before you leave. If I don’t get it back I’ll hunt you down.” He laughed nervously as she held it back out to him and he took it from her. “I’m entirely serious.”

“I promise I’ll give it back,” he told her then walked over to the table.

Nic watched him sit down and start to work on the application, but her attention was cut short by the door opening and the bell ringing. Taking a breath, she smiled and started working for the day.

An hour later when more employees had arrived and Nic was manning the cash register, she looked over to see him still working on the application. She walked over to the coffee pot filled with cocoa and filled a medium cup, topping it off with some whipped cream and chocolate syrup. She pulled a crumpled five dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to the cashier between customers.

“For the cocoa,” Nic said. It was a slower morning than she expected, but she figured it had to do with most people being hungover from the night before. She walked over to the table where Bernard sat and set the cocoa down next to him.

He looked at the drink and then to her. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”

“It gets cold by the window,” she told him, trying to explain away her actions. She left before the blush could consume her face, not noticing the same was happening to him.

It was another half hour before he approached the counter. The breakfast rush was slowing down finally and Nic had a moment to breathe. When Bernard came to the counter, she immediately gave him her full attention. He handed her the application and her pen.

“I’ll make sure my boss gets this,” she said gesturing with the application as she tucked the pen behind her ear. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” he shook his head, though not ready to leave just yet.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you then?” Nic smiled at him, hoping he’d understand the invitation she was extending to him.

“I’ll definitely be by again soon,” he assured her.

Another customer approached the counter, and Nic moved out of the way for her co-worker to serve them. She waved goodbye to Bernard before rushing into the back. Jade watched as Nic entered the office and wrote something down on a sticky note before playing it on the application.

“What are you doing?” Jade asked.

“Just telling the owner I strongly recommend he consider this applicant,” Nic replied nonchalantly.

“You never do that!”

“Yeah, well, I have a feeling about this one…”

20 Years Later

Nic let out a groan as she sat up in bed, the clock on her bedside table showing it was a quarter to six in the morning. She rubbed her face tiredly, feeling the sleep fog lingering as she yawned. The light on her husband’s bedside was on, giving the room a soft glow. As she put on her glasses, the bedroom opened and Bernard entered the room with a tray of breakfast in his hands. Nic smiled tiredly at him, leaning against the pillows as he walked over to her side of the bed.

“What’s this about?” She asked, looking at the tray that he set in her lap.

“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed. For our anniversary,” he told her softly, leaning down to kiss her temple.

She hummed softly, smiling at the peanut butter and grape jelly on a cinnamon raisin bagel. She mentioned it to him the night prior— it was her first craving of the pregnancy. “Our anniversary was in September,” Nic reminded him.

“I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s the anniversary of the day we met. It was today, twenty years ago.”

Her eyes widened, pausing as she lifted half of the bagel up to her mouth. “No, it’s today? Already?”

Bernard nodded, smiling at her fondly. “It snuck up on us, I know. The last two months have been a busy time for us.”

“But twenty years? Where’s the time gone?” She asked in astonishment.

He reached up to tuck a strand of her messy bedhead behind her ear. “I don’t know. But you’re still as beautiful as you were twenty years ago.”

Leaning into his touch, she spoke. “And your eyes still sparkle when you smile.”

“I’ll let you eat and get ready for work. New Year’s Eve orders, they’re always the hardest to get through.”

“I will see you there, though.” She leaned forward and pecked his lips. “Once the girls are in bed tonight, we’ll spend New Year’s together.”

“I look forward to it.”

#reblogs are appreciated and encouraged #mywriting #otp: frosted cookies #grumpy elf 🎄

[j0ur3nys-3nd]

The character thing.

Thoughts on cotton cookie?

Favorite thing about her: She is a SHEPARD!!! SHEEP!!!

Least favorite thing about her: She forgets about Sherbert (I think)

Favorite line: "I'll protect you! See this staff? I will stop anyone!" (WORDS BEFORE DISATER)

BROTP: Snow sugar and Cotton (Them!!)

OTP: None (I would say Shebert x Cotton, but yeah)

NOTP: Frost queen x Cotton (NO)

Random headcanon: Her, Snow sugar, Kumiho and Frost queen are a family

Unpopular opinion: She has sepreation anixtey

Song I associate her with: "Breezeblocks" - alt-J

Favorite picture of them:

Cry

[fatefulfaerie]

December OTP Prompts

(and what I’m doing with them)

Thank you to @lavenderotpprompts for the original prompt list!

Prompts 25-31 delayed

Ice Skating - Rosegarden (RWBY)

“You Shouldn’t Have” - Mario x Peach (they are from like every Mario game I’m not listing all that. Odyssey. Sure. Super Mario Odyssey)

Peppermint - Chidi x Eleanor (The Good Place)

Kissing Cold Noses - Hiccstrid (How To Train Your Dragon, How To Train Your Dragon 2, How To Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World)

Traditions - Peter Parker x MJ (MCU)

Family Gathering - Wanda x Vision (MCU)

Hot Chocolate With Marshmallows - Ghira x Kali (RWBY)

Fireplace - Arkos (RWBY)

Silver And Gold - White Knight (RWBY)

“We Have To Hurry” - Ed x Winry (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood)

Day Spent Baking Cookies - Zelink (The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword)

Wrapping Paper - Renora (RWBY)

Evergreen Tree - Zelink (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Naughty - Linebeck x Jolene (The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass)

Nice - Jason x Janet (The Good Place)

Snowed In - Rosegarden (RWBY)

Decorations - Zelink (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/The Sequel to the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Mistletoe - Renora (RWBY)

Stockings - Kristanna (Frozen, Frozen 2)

Frosted Windows - Zelink (The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker/The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass)

The Best Present - B’elanna x Tom (Star Trek: Voyager)

“Here, Take My Scarf” - Zelink (The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks)

Twinkling Lights - Han x Leia (Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi)

The Night Before - White Knight (RWBY)

Holiday Music - Steve x Peggy (MCU)

Sweet Kisses - Ozma x Salem (RWBY)

Masquerade - Zelink (Breath of the Wild)

Sugar And Spice - Lizzie and Darcy (Pride and Prejudice the book but also the 1995 version, 2005 doesn’t exist)

Moonlight - Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle (Batman Returns)

Late Mornings - Peeta x Katniss (The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay)

“May I Have This Dance?” Gelato (RWBY)

#tried to have a lot of variety #maybe too much? #tloz #rwby #fmab #mcu #star wars #guess who has time for none of this #but is still doing it? #because I dumb

[jay4firefic]

Otp Question game- Buck & Kelly- 6. Who'd take the gingerbread house decorating contest just a little too seriously?

Hard decision but I've landed on Kelly. Buck keeps getting distracted, half of his gingerbread house is beautiful and the other half has crooked cookie shingles and is missing decorations that he decided to snack on instead. There's frosting in his hair.

Meanwhile Kelly, who had to be coerced into participating, quietly busted out measuring tape and box cutters and has built a house with doors and windows measured to code, gum drop smoke alarms and a chocolate sprinkle sprinkler system. The roof tiles and siding are perfect. He figured out how to make candy glass window panes with a torch and some stale hard candy when he got bored.

Casey displays it at the fire house for a week and never lets him live it down.

#otp question game #asks and answers #buck x kelly severide

[creamecream]

*Bloops in I did a meme.*

I don’t have any specific warnings for this one, besides I don’t particularly care for some rather popular ships, and I believe Pumpkin Pie Cookie and Squid Ink Cookie to be 1000+ year old eldritch demons, not children, but that doesn’t factor much.

I didn’t touch family or friends (tho I accidentally left a line between Carrot and Clover, sorry!) because that would just so confuse things, I tried it for some and in the end said nah. and I took “meh” as an “not for me, but whatever” option, and “support” as an “is cute, but not my first choice” option.

I’m well aware I forgot some fc ships! I didn’t remember some of whom my friends’ characters went with!

With Cookie fan characters

Latte Cookie x Reindeer Cookie (belongs to me)

Almond Cookie x Reindeer Cookie (belongs to me)

Werewolf Cookie x Foxglove Cookie (belongs to @shinynymphia)

Espresso Cookie x Mixed Berry Cookie (belongs to @berrisweet-panda)

Pure Vanilla Cookie x Strawberry Jam Cookie (belongs to @berrisweet-panda)

White Lily Cookie x Strawberry Jam Cookie (belongs to @berrisweet-panda)

No

Red Velvet Cookie x Pastry Cookie

Meh

Knight Cookie x Princess Cookie

Devil Cookie x Angel Cookie

Adventurer Cookie x Blackberry Cookie

Milk Cookie x Purple Yam Cookie/Dark Choco Cookie (I forgot which one was the popular one, I just put MilkYam but I meant both/the usual one you see)

Mala Sauce Cookie x Chili Pepper Cookie

Madeliene Cookie x Espresso Cookie

Espresso Cookie x Latte Cookie

Latte Cookie x Almond Cookie

Rye Cookie x Chili Pepper Cookie

Herb Cookie x Sparkling Cookie

Sparkling Cookie x Mint Choco Cookie

Pure Vanilla Cookie x Dark Cacao Cookie

Support

Clover Cookie x Fig Cookie

Pure Vanilla Cookie x Black Raisin Cookie

Sea Fairy Cookie x Frost Queen Cookie

Pastry Cookie x Pomegranate Cookie

Love

Strawberry Cookie x Wizard Cookie

Knight Cookie x Fig Cookie

Princess Cookie x Raspberry Cookie

Alchemist Cookie x Herb Cookie

Clover Cookie x Lilac Cookie

Werewolf Cookie x Kumiho Cookie x Red Velvet Cookie

Dark Choco Cookie x Madeleine Cookie

Parfait Cookie x Licorice Cookie

Cocoa Cookie x Mint Choco Cookie

Pure Vanilla Cookie x White Lily Cookie

Otps

Pumpkin Pie Cookie x Squid Ink Cookie

Sparkling Cookie x Vampire Cookie

Made by YoshiAnimates on DeviantArt

Blank: https://www.deviantart.com/yoshianimates/art/Cookie-Run-Shipping-Chart-Updated-903390932

#shipping meme #shipping chart #I forgot the tags I use for these bleh #cookie run #cookie run: kingdom

[altumvidetur]

Haikyuu!! Fic Recs (BokuAka)

Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I’ve decided to split it in a series of posts, starting with my OTPs. This time it’s BokuAka’s turn!

cookies and cream, by norio

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

dozens of red roses, by norio

“And what’s the boyfriend getting for Bokuto’s birthday?” Kuroo asked, mirthful grin on his face.

“Oh,” Akaashi said, distracted by the magazine. “The next time he visits the dentist, I’ll pay for half what the insurance doesn’t cover.”

The silence dropped around the store like a chilling and killing frost.

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight, by carafin

In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of.

-

Next to him, Komi is chewing his cupcake dutifully, albeit with obvious effort. Washio has assumed a completely neutral expression on his face, although Akaashi thinks that his eyes might be watering. Sarukui, having seemingly demolished the entire thing out of sheer willpower alone, looks like he deeply regrets every single choice that has led to this precise moment in his life.

‘It isn’t too bad, huh?’ Bokuto says, grinning. ‘I made them in our school colours, so they’re like, marbled black and white chocolate swirls! Do you guys want more?’

Sarukui looks like he might pass out at the thought alone. Komi pauses mid-chew to shake his head weakly.

‘I’ll have more,’ Akaashi says, to the general astonishment of everyone.

better than spy films, by dalyeau

Akaashi knocks Bokuto out and Bokuto falls in love. Kuroo laughs about it.

Maybe We’re Airborne, Baby, by fathomfive

Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. But getting his feelings across might be Bokuto's biggest endeavor yet, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.

But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and Bokuto wants it more than he's ever wanted anything. He's an expert at seizing his perfect moment, at bringing victory home against the odds. So he's got this, right? It's gonna go great, right? Right?

(After all, it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters.)

heavy heart, a love apart, by drifloon

(802): Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.

Character Development, by silvercistern

"That’s some kinda gratitude. What happened to my painfully polite little brother? I get the ideal guy to take you to prom, and you act like he's not even here!"

"I doubt I’d let him take me to the hospital if I were bleeding to death."

Keiji needs a date. Bokuto needs dating lessons. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

prepare for rain, by norio

“First you must make a delicious bowl of tea; lay the charcoal so the water boils; arrange the flowers as they are in the field; in the summer suggest coolness, in the winter, warmth; do everything ahead of time; prepare for rain; and give those with whom you find yourself every consideration.”

- Sen no Rikyu

cracks in the pavement will lead you home, by deusreks

Bokuto often thinks about Akaashi, especially when he’s running. It’s like his legs know where they’re supposed to take him. He grows into a habit of running a lot, just to keep that feeling going. Cracks and holes in the pavement aren’t fun to jump over if the final reward isn’t seeing Akaashi’s face.

An alternate universe with a little bit of magic and a lot of growing up.

il mio ragazzo falso, by Karasuno Volleygays

With his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary looming fast and large, Akaashi finds himself urged to bring a date and not quite to the point where his family knows that said date will not be of the female variety.

At some point, he has to decide which will be the least frightening prospect — braving coming out to his family or endure Operation: Find Keiji A Girlfriend 2k15.

And why is the only person he can think of to drag along to this thing his overly-spirited volleyball captain?

#someonepleasesaveakaashi

right in the head, by Mysecretfanmoments

That was the other thing: when Keiji had said he wanted to make his way home, Bokuto had agreed—as if it didn’t matter where they went. He hadn’t said "we should look for a community" or "there’s probably nothing there anymore".

He’d just asked which way.

((the bokuaka zombie au literally no one asked for))

how to become a birder, by norio

“Since I’m Bokuto,” Bokuto said, giving an unnecessarily meaningful look, “You know what I want, right? It’ll be easy! You take pictures of me, I turn them in, my professor says I’m the smartest genius, I graduate, I go play pro, I win the Olympics.”

The World’s Best Kept Secret, by kythen

The struggles of keeping a relationship a secret (when it really isn't a secret at all).

third wheel, by arsenicjay

"So you and Bokuto, huh?"

Akaashi's attention snaps back to Kuroo and he gives the other boy a blank stare. "What about us?"

Or, Kuroo figures out that Bokuto is interested in Akaashi long before Bokuto does himself and being the kind friend that he is, tries to help them along.

cherished, by gabstar

Bokuto tends to panic when Akaashi expresses discomfort or concern. Akaashi didn't need that. Akaashi was better off handling this alone.

((In which Bokuto's love sick, Akaashi's sick-sick, and together they feel a little better))

Kissing Ace, by Karasuno Volleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way. But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

legs killed the owl, by dalyeau

He's not smiling anymore an hour later, after he's fucked up four perfect spikes that Akaashi tossed carefully for him because he's too distracted by the lean, elegant line of Akaashi's legs, kneepads dark against the white of Fukurodani's gym.

tea-stained polaroids, by dalyeau

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head. 

owls, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

It was no secret that Bokuto genuinely loved owls, considering his locker was full of them, but Akaashi kept his own like of the animal very low key.

How Bokuto found out otherwise, he didn't know.

all lost souls, by norio

Not again, Akaashi thought. But he had never seen this sight before.

run rabbit run, by norio

Rule #1: Don't hurt Akaashi. Rule #2: Don't taint Akaashi. Rule #3: Don't involve Akaashi. Rule #4: Don't damage Akaashi. Rule #5 (optional): Try not to destroy yourself.

gwah, bam and swoosh, by dalyeau

When Bokuto meets Kageyama the first thing he thinks is, No five year old should be able to scowl like that.

Or be that tall.

Then, Shit, his dad is really hot.

Spoiled, by gabstar

Akaashi desperately needs a new mattress and he drags his loyal, loving, and very loud boyfriend with him.

omam verse, by shionsheart

Though some may believe they're monsters, those closest to them know they're just men learning how to love in this world of magic, demons, and faeries.

i’ll return home one day, by awkwardedgeworth

"Bro," He asks Kuroo out of the blue one day when they're toweling their hair dry, "What if Sawamura is halfway across the world and he only comes home seven times a year for around four days each?"

"I would consider every moment a blessing. You got it bad for Akaashi already?"

"I just wish you would introduce us sooner."

Or, wherein Akaashi is a world famous violinist, Kuroo introduces him to future Olympian-to-be Bokuto Koutarou. And Bokuto pines. A lot.

morning owls, by norio

Most of the time, if Bokuto woke up first, he would shake Akaashi awake. Sometimes he would bake sloppy pancakes for breakfast in bed, and sometimes he would sit on Akaashi's waist.

And sometimes he did not.

Insomniac Olympics, by Aetherdrive

Akaashi never thought he could inspire anyone, let alone an artist -- and then he met Bokuto.

counterclockwise, by miiniwa

How they had gone from point a to point b in such a short amount of time, he doesn't know. But as he dwells on it, he realizes that he doesn't exactly mind.

if kisses were fishes, then i’d be an ocean, by norio

Akaashi needs a fake date partner, so he grabs the first person he sees.

the way you look at me, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

Bokuto sees him every day, every commute, at the final train. The stranger he only knows as Train Guy. Wrapped in coats, mystery, and distance - that is, until Bokuto breaks their familiar silence. He struggles with the hardest part of befriending someone he thinks he already knows: taking a step back to reevaluate all his assumptions.

He finds the easiest part is getting to learn about Train Guy all over again.

#haikyuu!! #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #fic recs #please warn me if any links are broken #and reblog it if you can so more people will see it #otp: we are the protagonists of the world

[oikirstein]

1-50

i—

idk if this serious or not but i’m going to do it anyways 😁

1. do you have a crush on anyone?

on oikawa 😏

2. what’s your favorite candy?

my favorite candy are those rainbow sour belts and also that tamarind candy that you push up in the green container with a red cap

3. favorite love song?

i have such a hard time picking my favorite songs because it always changes but right now, it’s probably white ferrari by frank ocean which probably is more of a falling out of love song than a love song but oh well

4. what was your first kiss like?

lmaooooo hahaha n e wayz

5. what was your last kiss like?

the last person i kissed was my oikawa plushie

6. sexual/romantic orientation?

heteroromantic (i think) & bisexual

7. do you prefer poems or love letters?

what about a poem in a love letter 😉

8. favorite fanfic trope?

50k words slowburn enemies to lovers with eventual mutal pining but they’re both too prideful and blinded by their “hate” that the tension keeps building and building until one of them goes “you wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid” and then they makeout until they pull apart so the other can say “what now?” 

9. have you ever been in love?

no </3

10. favorite milkshake flavor?

oreo/cookies and cream/chocolate and vanilla swirl

11. dinner dates or brunch dates?

answered

12. favorite flowers?

probably hibiscuses, roses, purple hydrangeas and irises, baby’s breath, and cherry blossoms (or is that classified as a tree)

13. favorite perfume/cologne?

i don’t really wear expensive perfume or anything but my favorite scents one of my favorite scents is rose from bath and body. some of my other favorite scents are winter candy apple, black cherry merlot, japanese cherry blossom, and cucumber melon

14. favorite candle scent?

i like candles that smell refreshing. candles that smell like food or something too sweet (like snickerdoodles or caramel) give me headaches.

15. what’s your ideal first date?

my ideal first date would be making each other short little playlists on spotify and driving around late at night heading towards the sunset while we play each other the songs and rate them.

16. favorite love story?

me and oikawa 🥰

17. what’s the most attractive thing a person could wear?

one of those nice silky button ups with the sleeve rolled up to their elbows and a few of the top buttons popped open + nice black slacks 

18. chocolate, vanilla, or red velvet?

red velvet is just chocolate with red food coloring and cream cheese frosting so do i really need to pick between the two?

19. snow, rain, or sun?

as someone from the west, i would like to say snow but i know i love the sunny days

20. sweetest romantic memory?

when i got my oikawa plush in the mail

21. favorite dating sim (and favorite character)?

i must be dumb because when i read this i thought of the sims—like the game with bob pancakes. i haven't played that many dating simulator games but for now i’d say mystic messenger because talking to 707 gives me serotonin 

22. fictional crushes?

*harshly exhales through nose*

my current brainrots go as following in no particular order:

toru oikawa 

jean kirsten

rintaro suna

levi ackerman

ryota kise

mikasa ackerman

annie leonhart

armin arlert

koshi sugawara

kyoko kirigiri

sayaka maizono

byakuya togami

nozomu nanashima

LANGA HASEGAWA

shoto todoroki

dabi

hawks

shouta aizawa

denki kaminari

should i go on 🤔

23. what’s your dream wedding like?

answered

24. what makes you blush?

physical contact and witty remarks 

25. do you believe in love at first sight?

no because i think to be in love there needs to be an established form of trust

26. do you believe in soulmates?

answered

27. denim jackets, leather jackets, or bomber jackets?

denim jackets for sure

28. what’s your sign?

leo sun, libra moon, capricorn rising

29. are you single?

yeah 🙂 but that can change 😏

30. do you prefer to charm, or be charmed?

be charmed 

31. guitar or piano?

i really want to buy an electric so im saving my money, but i have an acoustic and a keyboard. i’m pretty basic on the acoustic i can’t do barre chords to save my life but i’m trying to get better at piano haha. if i had to pick, then i wish i could master piano.

30. favorite romcom?

i like to watch the notebook :)

33. do you fall in love easily?

please i almost applied for a job at pet smart because a cute guy worked there

34. valentine’s decorations: yay or nay?

i want to say no because they’re tacky but some of them are cute

35. would you prefer to propose or be proposed to? what’s your dream proposal?

i would prefer to be proposed to. my dream proposal would be quaint and intimate, maybe going to a little place that holds a significant memory for the both of us or maybe it would be in aisle 3 of 7/11 🤷🏽‍♀️ i think the only thing that matters is that we’re both sure of our feelings for each other and are ready to commit to a life of love

36. cloud gazing or star gazing?

star gazing thru the sunroof of their car in the woods or smth 🥺

37. do you like to dance?

i’m not good at dancing, but i’ll dice roll into every room

38. what’s your OTP?

dramione aka the blueprint for my love of enemies to lovers + tsunderes

and also kagehina because they just have so much chemistry and also because they’re my comfort ship

like before i even really got into the fandom, i was sitting there on netflix like “they would be cute together”

39. kittens or puppies?

puppies!

40. coffee, hot chocolate, or tea?

i really only drink hot chocolate in winter or around the holidays so i think i’d say tea. my favorite to drink is black tea with 3 teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk

41. favorite soda?

diet coke or royal (filipino brand orange soda)

42. do you prefer gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically over the sofa?

lying dramatically on the sofa and pretending i’m dead to practice how my body is going to look when i finally kick the bucket 

43. favorite ABBA song?

gimmie! gimme! gimme! (a man after midnight), waterloo, dancing queen, mamma mia, andante andante, one of us, thank you for the music, and lay all your love on me 

sorry lol i can't pick a favorite

44. fuck/marry/kill? (anons name 3 people of your choice)

sorry i can’t answer this one without the people 😣

45. favorite pajamas?

they’re red fleece plaid pajama pants and a black tank top or just a really baggy shirt

46. favorite liquor?

this feels illegal to answer

47. do you think about love a lot?

yeah *sighs* i might try shifting to haiykuu or something

48. a walk in the park or a walk on the beach?

a walk on the beach 🤩

49. hand kisses or nose kisses?

wait those are both so cute. nose kisses and inner wrist kisses 

50. what’s your dreamhouse?

my dream house would probably be something like a colonial modern house with a porch that wraps all the way around, blue shutters, and a painting room, with a big kitchen, maybe 2 stories, 3-4 bedrooms with 4-5 bathrooms (yes i want every room to have an ensuite bathroom), central vacuum system, dishwasher, etc.

i just want a semi-large house with all the things i wasn’t able to have growing up

#gel's letterbox #anon.letters #phew that took me way longer than it needed to