strawberry mouth

nothing holding me back // sweet pea imagine 🥀🐍

request: Hi! Could you do a sweet pea imagine where the reader is a north sider and she tells pea that Reggie won’t stop flirting with her and the night of the fight (serpents vs bulldogs) he confronts Reggie about it?

I hope this is what you had in mind…sorta. There wasn’t really any confronting and talking, but I’m sure that’s how Sweet Pea handles things usually lol. 

A/N: I literally did not have any idea for the title, so please bear with me. Also, I know Ronnie stayed at home first, but I changed it up a little. Also, I LOVE REGGIE. I’m not painting him as the bad person here, just the cocky little shit he is. 

Title: nothing holding me back

Summary: You tell Sweet Pea some jock has been hitting on you and he seemingly takes it well. 

“Pea, I beg you not to freak out.“

You could feel the rage and jealousy radiating off of him as his eyes went dark, and his mouth turned into a straight line as he looked ahead of him, staring at his chocolate milkshake. You put your small hands on his lap in hope it would soothe the raven-haired boy sitting next to you.
He craned his neck towards you, his eyes hard.

“So you’re telling me that some stupid Northside boy has been flirting with you non stop and you didn’t tell me until now?!“ he spat, venom lacing his every word, his eyes looking at you accusingly. You let out a frustrated sigh, not liking the way he was pinning everything on you like you actually enjoyed the attention of the Bulldog.

“Reggie is just… stupid. He is messing around – he doesn’t actually like me. Flirting is his form of communication, really.“ You removed your hand from his lap and gripped your strawberry milkshake, sucking at the straw forcefully and awaiting his reaction. 

He sneered and from the corner of your eye, you could see his fists were balled on the table. You rolled your eyes. He had always been dramatic. He was ill-tempered and infuriated, not knowing how he should handle the feeling of another boy setting sights on his girl, on you, as if you could not protect yourself from the wrath of horny, teenage boys.
“So, you’re saying I should just accept some jock flirting with my girl while I’m not there?“ he seethed, looking you in the eyes. You rose your eyebrow as you crossed your legs and arms.

“I’m saying“, you emphasized, „that there is no need for you to worry. I have my eyes set on you, snake. I just wanted to tell you because I felt bad if I didn’t. Also, I have Reggie under control. Like you said, he’s just some jock. He might be handsome“, he narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw tightened, “but I prefer leather jackets.“ You smirked slightly as you scooted closer to him and leaned against his broad shoulder which seemed to relax instantly at your gentle touch. He wrapped his left arm around you, hugging you close as if he was scared you’d vanish. You smiled at this moment of bliss the two of you shared at Pop’s, blending out the voices and the noise around you. 

“Baby, I gotta go somewhere. I’ll be at your house at 11?“ You sighed in defeat, not wanting to let him go and not wanting to know what mess he would get himself into now. You scooted out of the booth, holding his hand as he loomed over your small frame. A boyish smirk crossed over his features as he said, “Don’t worry about me, baby. Get that frown out of your face.” He put one hand on the left side of your face and the other small of your back, holding you. He brushed one lock of your brown hair out of your face that had been annoying you all evening. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine before he found his way to your mouth, strawberry and chocolate mixing, becoming one. You pulled away breathlessly and scanned his face.
“Come back to me in one piece, got it?”


-


As soon as you had gotten home, you ran yourself a bath and lit up some scented candles. You stripped your clothes off and stepped into the bath. The hot water relaxed your muscles instantly and you could let go of all the worries that had been plaguing your mind all day.
You took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of apples lingering in the air until you dove down.
The ringing of your phone cut through the air. You let out an annoyed huff and grabbed your phone. Ronnie was written over the screen. Confused, you accepted the call, wondering why she was calling this late. 

„Whaddup, girl?“
„Your serpent boyfriend turned up. Serpents vs. Bulldogs. I’ll text you the directions, I know where they went. Archie wanted me to stay home but apparently, he doesn’t know me very well. Come now!“ The Lodge girl hung up, leaving you in a state of anxiety as you quickly got out of the bath and blew out the candles. 

You bolted into your room, putting on some fresh clothes as you grabbed the coat sprawled across your bed, checking if your car keys were still in the pockets. You took one glance in the mirror, putting your wet hair into a ponytail as you rushed out of your house, hoping not to wake your parents.
The fresh, cold air hit you as you marched towards your black car, small raindrops hitting you. You looked up at the cloudy night sky, hoping it wasn’t going to pour later.
You quickly turned on the engine and took off, the loud screech of tires cutting through the sleeping neighborhood.
You kept cursing at Sweet Pea at Archie and it suddenly dawned on you that Reggie was most likely going to be there too. You shut your eyes, trying to calm your nerves, hoping hell wasn’t breaking loose. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, hoping it would somehow make your car go faster. As you drove, the rain started to get heavier.

From afar, you started spotting cars and an array of motorcycles parked. You swerved to the side and quickly cut the engine off. The fight hadn’t started just yet. No words were being exchanged, just angry, despiteful glances.
The tension that had been built between the Serpents and the Bulldogs could be cut with a knife. You spotted Veronica, marching towards her.
What the fuck is going on here, Ronnie?” you screeched, darting your eyes to the crowd as you finally spotted your boyfriend amongst them. He didn’t seem to have noticed you, no one had as they were too preoccupied glaring each other to death.
“As I’ve told you over the phone, your boyfriend came to Archie’s house. Basically, all these boys must prove who’s the strongest. It’s foolish, but he wasn’t going to leave. So, I made one rule: no weapons,” she explained, her tone somewhat accusingly. 

Besides Jughead and Cheryl, Veronica had been the first one to know about your relationship with the tall, brooding serpent. Obviously, she hadn’t been exhilarated, constantly reminding you he was a gang member after all as if you didn’t know already.
But she was your best friend and she had to accept your decision, even if this meant lying to her boyfriend and the rest of your friends for now.
“So we’re just going to let them fight? That seems like a stupid idea to me, Ronnie. No offense.”

“None taken. Maybe you should keep your snake on a leash”, she remarked snidely, her deep brown eyes challenging you as she crossed her arms over her chest. You scoffed and shook your head, saying, “I’m not here to discuss my relationship with you, Ronnie.” You stalked towards the boys, the heavy rain pouring on you. Sweet Pea looked up, squinting his eyes at you until recognition dawned on his face. You stood in between the two groups, your hands resting on both sides of your hips.
“What are you doing here, babe?” he asked, jaw still tight and trying to keep his voice void of any emotion, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the others. You gritted your teeth, opening your mouth to say something, but were cut off by Archie and Reggie.

Babe?!” they exclaimed incredulously, Archie’s voice laced with anger and disappointment, while Reggie seemed more than amused. You turned around to look at the boys, shaking your head at Reggie as a troubling smirk crossed his face. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a step towards you.
“So this is why we haven’t made out yet, really?” Your eyes widened at his remark, wanting nothing more than to slap the grin out of his face. You heard a low growl behind you, craning your neck you saw the look of anger passing on Sweet Pea’s face. You turned to reach out to him, but he pushed past you.
“So you’re the infamous Reggie that can’t keep his hands off my girl?” he seethed through gritted teeth, looking the Bulldog up and down. 

You swallowed, fiddling with the ring on your finger. You took another step forward, putting a hand on Sweet Pea’s shoulder, hoping he would simmer down. Archie looked at the two of them, realizing the situation might even get messier than it already was. He looked over at Reggie, telling him to shut up.
“Oh, so she talks about me a lot? Probably thinks about me too at night then, huh?
It happened fast. Within a few seconds, Sweet Pea had punched Reggie square across the jaw, signaling the fight had officially begun.
You heard Veronica calling your name distinctly and you ran to her into the safe zone, not knowing what to do. You closed your eyes, trying to fade out the sickening sounds of fists hitting jaws, legs kicking stomachs and people groaning in pain. You could hear Sweet Pea screaming threats at Reggie, not being able to make out what they were as you a gunshot rang through the silent air of the rainy night. 

You winced at the loud noise and turned to see Veronica her holding a gun high up in the air, stopping the war immediately. You gave her a thankful look, nodding at her and making your way towards your car. You sat in the driver’s seat, punching the steering wheel furiously, several curse words escaping your mouths. Your hands went to your hair and gripped it tightly. This is exactly what you had signed up for, entering this star-crossed relationship. Sweet Pea had warned you about how violent things could get, wanting you to understand what you would get yourself into. He was also quick to make sure you knew he wasn’t going to leave the Serpents because of you.  
You started the engine and drove off into the night.


-


You knew it was only a matter of time until Sweet Pea would be climbing through your window. You had already rummaged through your messy bathroom cabinet, having found a disinfectant, some plasters, and band-aids, ready to nurse him. A pack of ice was sitting on your night-stand, waiting to be used. You had been pacing around your room for a good twenty minutes now, checking your phone constantly and calling Sweet Pea, only for him not to pick up. 

You could hear a loud engine roar and a harsh clash of gears until the sound faded into silence. As Sweet Pea made his way through your window and stood in front of you, your eyes quickly went to scan his face and spotted the bruise that adorned his left eye. You sighed in relief, happy it was just a bruise. His face was void of any expression, probably waiting for you to scold him, scream at him and tell him how stupid the fight had been. Right now, however, you were tired and couldn’t find the nerve to put up a fight now. You just were happy he was here, with you. 

You wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your head into his chest, inhaling the smell of his cologne and the distinct smell of rain. He embraced you.
“I know this is what you do”, you mumbled lowly, “doesn’t mean I like it.” A low chuckle erupted from his chest, causing you to roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. You looked up at him.
“I know you don’t. But that’s me. That’s the cost of being with a serpent, princess.”
“I know. It’s just… complicated. Archie’s been my friend since I was in diapers. And you hate each other. It’s just… hard. It sucks so much. Everything sucks.” He let out a scoff as you mentioned the Andrews boy, not liking that you two were close and saw each other every day.
You slowly removed your arms from his frame, motioning for him to sit on your bed. You went over to your nightstand and grabbed the pack of ice, accidentally knocking over the picture of you and Cheryl the both of you had taken after cheer-practice a few months ago.

Sweet Pea gave you half smile. “We literally could not be any more different,“ he said, motioning to the picture of you and the red-haired beauty,“ but that, baby, keeps things exciting.” You threw the ice pack at him and he caught it with ease. He put it on his eye and winced at the pain. 

“You’ll have to meet Cheryl anyways. She’s been insisting on it. And she’s slowly starting to scare me.” The fiery redhead had always been your most persistent friend. After all, she was Cheryl Blossom and got what she wanted when she wanted it. She wasn’t thrilled, just like Veronica. She had mocked you, telling you he probably wasn’t good enough for her favorite River vixen anyways. She had even dismissed you with a wave when you told her that you thought you loved him. 

You knew it was Cheryl’s twisted way of protecting you from getting hurt. That day in the locker room, you had told Cheryl to back off, resulting in her smiling at you with her bright, red lips and saying she loved the recently found fire in you and wanting to meet the “Southside Romeo” that stole your heart. Her words, not yours. 

He sneered at you, “I think I’ve had enough of your Northsider friends for today, babe. Though, I have to admit it was amazing to beat up that jock.”
“Reggie is… Reggie. He had it coming, even though I don’t appreciate you handling this in a violent way. You could just.. talk next time,” you explained, sitting on your bed and grabbing one of your floral patterned pillows. He just rose his eyebrow at your request, slowly shaking his head and shrugging.
“I think I got my point across, sweetheart.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, hurling the cushion at him. 

You crawled over to him, seating yourself on his sprawled out legs, removing the ice pack from his hand. He leaned back against your headboard, finding a comfortable position. You gazed into his deep eyes, leaning forward and tangling your small hands in his tousled, black hair. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place as his fingertips gently rubbed over your delicate skin, longing to touch you. He let out a content sigh, letting his eyes wander over your face to your body, treasuring the moment with you. Sweet Pea had never told you he loved you, but the way he treasured every moment with you, caressing you, and kissing you like your lives depended on it, he didn’t have to. 

“Kiss me,” you said softly, starting to lean in. And he did, without hesitation. His soft lips covered yours, devouring your mouth, a flock of butterflies erupting in your stomach. His kisses were like no others you had experienced before. Now, that you had tasted him, you didn’t know if you could ever stop yearning for him.
His hands were discovering your body, getting lost in it. You arched your back, enjoying the closeness between your bodies. His lips brushed against your collarbone, leaving you breathless as he slowly started tracing kisses up your neck.

“Toxic” by Britney Spears rang through the air. You let out a defeated sigh as you moved over to your nightstand to pick up your phone. Sweet Pea rolled his eyes as he saw the contact name popping up on the bright screen. You picked it up, bracing yourself for the worst.
“You. Me. That toy boy of yours. Tomorrow. Sweet dreams, little dove.”

concept playlists

you’re running down a gleaming hall in a light, frothy ballgown the colour of honey-blossoms, past endless tussore-silk curtains which conceal dusty portraits that have long since lost their shine. you are lost, set adrift in your own enchantment, caught between all that is and all that could have been

you’re lying on a field of wildflowers with your best friend, the sullen murmur of bees shouldering their way to your ear. popping a strawberry in her mouth, she smiles at you sleepily, her hair curling delicately around her warm sun-drenched eyes, and your heart catches in your throat at the curve of her cherry-stained lips 

you are in the driver’s seat, speeding down highways, dusky light illuminating the old car. the streets are empty on this shadowy night but every time you turn the wheel excitement surges through your veins and you feel as if you could go on forever

it’s late evening and you’re trembling and trying not to cry because it’s like the whole world is on your shoulders and you’re going to fall with the knowledge that no one is there to catch you. your sister takes your hand with a sigh and tells you gently that it’s alright, things will get better and someday you will find your way home

you’re sipping pomegranate tea and walking through an art museum, eyes filled with childlike wonder at the paintings hanging off the wall. you feel a weight lift inside you and think maybe true love and happy endings do exist, after all

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

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So through the years it’s become a necessity for the Batfam to get good at distracting large groups of civilians so that other members can sneak off and change or so that no one really notices that ‘hey Red Robin and Spoiler just left and now Tim Drake and that blonde chick are entering the room all disheveled-like’. 

So I headcanon that, even though it’s not anything official, they all have signature ploys that they use whenever there’s a need for them to distract a large group of civilians from whatever nonsense is going on.

Bruce: Bruce usually just becomes ‘Brucie’ and knocks something over/falls off of whatever he’s on/trips/laughs really loudly at ‘a joke he just remembered’.  Legends are still told about the time Bruce Wayne knocked over six (6) priceless vases at a charity auction in the span of twenty minutes.

Dick: Dick usually leaps atop whatever table/furniture is around and loudly announcing his intentions to start a boy-band to honor his heroes Britney Spears/Bruno Mars.  Every time this happens the Internet basically shuts down for a few hours.  Sometimes he signs a song if extra distracting is needed (usually ‘Circus’ or ‘Uptown Funk’) and every time the name of his band is different.  Notable band names include Titans of Pop, Dick’s Dicks, and The Scaly Panties.

Barbara: okay, we all know that Babs is totally an activist for a number of causes.  So she usually either ends up roasting whatever Republican congressmen happens to be nearby (happens mostly at Bruce’s galas) or starting random mobs of protests based on whatever she’s feeling particularly passionate about at the moment. 

Jason: Jason has the advantage of being Legally Dead, so he doesn’t have to worry about ruining his reputation or civilian ID.  Jason also has the advantage of being a Relentless Shit, so usually he either starts spewing the most ridiculous conspiracies about Batman (fun fact- Jason was the one who first spilled the beans that Batman and Bruce Wayne had a torrid ten-year-long love affair) or he lets everyone in on the secret Wayne gossip he just dug up.  Nothing harmful, mostly stuff about Dick getting drunk and marrying a goat, Tim Drake being a cyborg, Damian Wayne actually being six and not ten. 

Duke: Duke really tries his best to be good in his civilian ID.  He’s usually the one pointing out the window and yelling ‘WAS THAT BATMAN?!?!?’ while Bruce and the others sneak off in the other directions.  One time though, there was an emergency and he just couldn’t think of anything to do.  And that’s the story of the time Duke Thomas re-enacted forty-five minutes of the first Lord of the Rings movie (perfectly, as witnesses will attest) to stop Riddler and the Penguin from killing hostages at a Wayne family gala. 

Cass: Cass dances.  Sometimes it’s elegant ballet, and she’ll take different partners in the crowd until everyone is clapping and laughing and hoping that the Princess of Gotham picks them next.  Sometimes it’s hypnotizing break-dancing that usually ends up in a huge crowd with everyone straining to take video.  Several of her impromptu performances have made it online, and she already has curious letters coming from Julliard and the Joffrey Academy of Dance.

Tim: while Tim isn’t quite a meme yet, his ability to do the weirdest shit while sleep-deprived is something that everyone in Gotham is deeply aware of.  There is no predicting what Tim will do if he has to distract people.  Some of his past stunts have included him singing both parts of ‘Fuck You’ from Holy Musical B@man, reciting the entire Gettysburg Address while trying to cram seven strawberries in his mouth, and starting a food fight at one of the Wayne Foundation charity events.

Stephanie: Steph is notorious because she really doesn’t have anything to lose.  She’s done everything from creating mosh pits in Gotham’s main road to encouraging people to pick out ‘souvenirs’ (read: Bruce’s property’)  from the gala.  Her favorite distraction though has been the time where she convinced Harley Quinn and a room of three hundred shocked people that she was Bohemian Rhapsody Wayne, Bruce’s lovechild from Texas. 

Damian: the first time Damian had to distract a large crowd, Jason gave him the helpful advice of ‘Just scream.’  And so Damian did.  He screamed for the entire fifteen minutes it took for the entire assembled Batfam to change into costume and bust in through the windows.  Bruce Wayne later told the press that it was ‘a showcasing of modern art, something Damian greatly enjoys’.  Damian’s real showstopping distractions though are his Animal Ratings.  He finds whatever dog/cat/bird/rat is nearest and loudly starts examining/praising it.  Rumor has it that the Gotham elite now smuggle their dogs into Bruce’s parties in the hopes that Damian will give their pooches an 11/10 (which is a joke because that’s the only rating Dami is capable of giving any animal)

Oh Sehun//For Her

Summary: The first words you’ll hear your soulmate say are tattooed onto your skin from birth. You hear the words, but in the worst possible situation - he’s in love with your close friend. 
Scenario: Soulmate AU, angst, fluff
Word Count: 5,746

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How to Flirt: Embarrassed Boy Edition

Summary: As soon as the first ever Cold Stone Creamery opens up in London, Phil knew he had to go. However, it wasn’t the ice cream that made him keep coming back, but rather the cute employee who looks dead in the eyes whenever he has to sing the tip jar songs.
Word Count: 4,405
Warnings: Food mentions, cussing
A/N: thanks so much to @greynihilism for prompting me this!!! I honestly love this SO MUCH. And of course thanks to @snowbunnylester for listening to me shout and for telling me to match our titles bc we are disgusting soulmates. I didn’t edit this but i’m too excited about it so idgaf! Hope you like it! 

Read it on AO3!

-  

When a new Cold Stone Creamery opened up in London, it was the biggest thing since sliced bread. Literally everyone had to try some, to get some for themselves, that way they could boast to their friends and family how they got to try it.

Phil was guilty of this. He was a slut for only two things, and those were ice cream and new shops. So when he heard a new ice cream shop was opening up? Phil pretty much shit himself. He gathered all of his friends, sat them down, and explained the situation to them. He didn’t want to say he forced them to come with him, because he didn’t. He just calmly insisted that they come with him and didn’t let them leave the room until they agreed. No biggie.

That’s how he found himself inside of Cold Stone with Kiley, Charles, and Michael. Phil was the only one who was so excited that he couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet. His friends were chattering beside him, waiting patiently for the line to go down so they could finally order, but Phil was having trouble being patient. He wanted his ice cream and he wanted it now. There were still five people in front of him and he wanted to push them all out of the way so he could order his own ice cream and press his face to the counter glass like an annoying child.

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something borrowed // stiles stilinski

Summary: Stiles lets Y/N borrow something of his & unexpectedly gains something in return

Requested: no, collab with @rememberstilinski

Pairing: Stiles & Y/N

Warning: no

Masterlist

Clutching the plastic lunch tray she navigated her way through the crowded cafeteria and back to the lunch table. The stress from the first four periods of her day slowly melted away as she spotted her group of friends across the cafeteria, sitting at the same table they had since the start of their freshman year.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as Lydia waved over to her. Picking up her pace, Y/N maneuvered her way through the crowds of people who were too engaged with their conversations with one another to pay any sort of attention to the small girl.

Then, a familiar boy caught her attention.

The sheriff’s son, Stiles Stilinski.

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Strawberries (Damian Wayne x Reader) *Collab with Colormemeow*

A/N: Here’s the fic me and @colormemeow wrote together in celebration of our 300 milestone!

Warnings: None!



You had woken up that morning, unenthusiastically expecting an empty apartment. It had been unbearably boring ever since Batman had temporarily grounded you from patrol.  But instead of the usual empty house, you found Damian, flopped unceremoniously onto your couch, looking like he’d been hit by, well, a Batmobile.

“Um… Hello?” you greeted and walked over to the sofa, kneeling so that you could make eye contact with him.

“Good morning,” he replied, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

This had happened before, so the shock factor had worn off slightly.

“You, my friend, are getting blood all over my couch,” you pointed out.

‘It’s not my blood,” he tried to reassure you.

“That’s not any better! Now, why don’t we get you out of that uniform?“

“Beloved, are you attempting to flirt with me?” Damian responded, smirking.

“If you think that this is flirting, you’re out of your damn mind. I’m saying that you smell bad and I want you to shower, so get off of my couch,” you said, quickly pecking him on the nose.

He huffed in annoyance before rolling off the couch and making his way to your bathroom.

“Your shampoo is in there!” you called from the linen closet, where you were trying to see if Damian had left any clothes at your house.

Damian stood in the shower, looking at your bottles of soap. On the shower shelf, there was a wide array of soaps, including the shampoo you had gotten for him when he stayed over. However, a different bottle caught his eye.


Damian walked out into your bedroom, to find the clothes you had laid out, for him. He raised an eyebrow at the choice, but chose not to complain. A few minutes later he walked out of your room wearing grey sweats and an undersized black t-shirt. Damian noticed a pink sweatshirt sitting on a chair. He stopped to consider his dignity before putting on the sweatshirt. It fit and was fairly warm, so he didn’t mind the color.


You were lying on your sofa, snacking on a bowl of strawberries that you had gotten for yourself while waiting for Damian to get out of the shower. There was a loud thumping sound, followed by a string of curses.

“Don’t you dare die on me!” you shouted from the couch, trying to make sure Damian didn’t kill himself in your shower.

About ten minutes later, you were met with Damian, draping himself gracelessly over you, Damian’s damp hair was pressed into the crook of your neck. “Hello,” you greeted for the second time that morning. Before Damian could reply, you spoke again. “Did you use my shampoo?”

“It smelled like strawberries, I couldn’t help it, beloved,” he said into your neck, tangling his legs with yours.

“Smells nice on you. And is that my hoodie?” You moved one hand to run your fingers through his hair.

“Maybe.”

“Pink’s a good color on you,” you remarked sarcastically.

Damian hummed in response, and shifted so that he could kiss you, with his arms on either side of your head. He gave you several short pecks on the lips. “Marry me,” he mumbled, his face hovering over yours.

“I’m not that insane,” you replied, smirking and moving your head up to give him another kiss.

“I’m serious,” he responded, but his phone started to ring. He moved one arm to pull it out of the pocket of his sweats. “It’s my father, beloved. I probably have to go,” he sighed.

“No,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Stay.”

“Beloved, I-” he stopped when he saw your pout. “Fine,” he muttered. “But what if it’s serious?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” you begged, kissing him once again.

“Beloved, it is getting increasingly difficult to say no to you,” Damian said, furrowing his brow.

“I can make it worth your while,” you giggled, popping a strawberry into your mouth.

“You’re too good for this world, beloved,” he chuckled, then pressed his lips onto yours in a heated kiss.

His arms returned to either side of your head as the kiss grew more passionate. Your hands were on his chest, and the kiss broke for him to hastily pull off the pink sweatshirt and t-shirt.

Your position changed slightly, and now Damian’s knees were on either side of your hips, and he had your arms pinned above your head.

His lips were rough against yours and he kissed you fiercely.

You and Damian were both too preoccupied to hear the soft thunk coming from your fireplace.

It wasn’t until Bruce loudly cleared his throat that you both turned to look. There he was, in the full Batman suit.

Damian jerked off of the couch, landing on the floor. You heard a string of arabic cursing before he collected himself. “H-hello, father!” he exclaimed, looking absolutely mortified, his face almost as pink as the sweatshirt he’d been wearing. “It’s a bit early for you to be out, isn’t it?” Damian tried, attempting to avoid Bruce’s interrogation.

“Damian, would you like to explain to me why you elected not to report back to the cave after patrol last night?” Bruce questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “And explain to me what this is,” he continued, gesturing to the two of you in your disheveled state.

You were practically petrified. Having your adoptive father-figure walk in on you and his son making out was not a comfortable situation.

“Father I am nineteen. I might remind you that I’m an adult,” Damian argued.

Bruce sighed, looking as if he was making a decision. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m too young to be having grandchildren,” he muttered to himself, making your face go bright red. In another instant, he was gone.

“I should probably go, beloved,” Damian reasoned, getting up and starting to change into his uniform.

“Yeah, I guess,” you admitted, sighing in defeat and standing up.

“I’ll be back later tonight after patrol,” he told you, walking over and taking your hands in his.

“Just do one last thing and kiss me,” you replied, smiling gently.

He nodded and kissed you softly. “Just so you know, beloved, I was serious about marrying you.”

And before you knew it he was out your window and off to save the world.

Last year was all peaches, and strawberries, and you. This year I’m trying to lose myself in the sweetness of mangoes, the tang of citrus. See I’ve spent this year learning about the meaning of flowers and wondering when I stopped being able to use my words. When everything turned into a string of metaphors that leads me back to your mouth. So maybe the butterflies are hatching, and we’re all so susceptible to the power of pollen that when allergy season starts, we’re all falling in love again. And maybe winter blues don’t feel lonely because they echo back your name, but the warm months do because it’s the time of the year I didn’t get to have you. So I’m out grocery shopping, and I’m forming poems about how I don’t know if your mouth tasted like strawberries or if strawberries taste like your mouth but either way, I can’t stomach them anymore. I’m weighing mangoes. I’m zesting oranges over my cuts. I’m planting 98¢ roses and hoping they’ll bloom where our love couldn’t.
—  Mango Season, Angelea Lowes
Sensory Snapshots

“the five senses” of simple, pleasant moments that capture each sign. 


ARIES IS // Fast legs and faster hearts just as dawn breaks. Numbness from scraped kneecaps and bloodied palms and the dizzying blur of quick sidewalks. Clattering of a chain link fence; dry laughter from desert throats – the kind that rises up from your lungs into your mouth, leaving the rusty taste of adrenaline on the tongue. Smoke lingering in your hair and on your clothes.

TAURUS IS // Standing in the dim light of a warm oven at 2am, messy hair and satin pajamas. Night air dancing in the curtains of an open window. A spoonful of peanut butter thick in your mouth – the sweet of baking cookies fills the room, mixing with the white noise of hushed radio. A gentle hand against the small of your back – an involuntary tugging at the edges of your lips.

GEMINI IS // Bright blue skies and big white clouds. Birds nests tucked in branches, and linens clipped on lines, hanging in an afternoon sun that will plant fresh freckles in ruddy cheeks. The whistle of laughter through gapped teeth. The smell of fresh cut grass from between bare toes, and the stickiness of thumbs wiping the pink and yellow of cotton candy from corners of crooked smiles.

CANCER IS // Early Sunday morning – soft eyes with heavy lids open slow to a familiar room, the walls bathed in shadows and faded lighting. The quiet patter of rain drops against the roof, and the deep rolling thunder. Being surrounded by the soothing scent of home and down feather pillows. The overwhelming comforting weight of blankets draped over tired bones, wrapped tight in the warmth of sleep and rumbling of storms.

LEO IS // Summer kissed skin, big sunglasses and floppy hats. Bright skies over dry fields laced with endless rows of sunflowers – the floral perfume mingling with thick July air. The hot breeze fluttering under a loose tank top, frayed cuffs of denim shorts with holes in the pockets, against your legs. Ripe strawberries in open mouths, the smiling voices of friends singing loud and off key.

VIRGO IS // Crisp, white sheets on a freshly made bed, the corners creased and smoothed down with precision and care. The smell of morning mist and steam rising from the brim of freshly steeped peppermint tea. Ticking analog clocks, rustling papers and the echo of hurried footsteps on wet pavement. The cool glass of a foggy window against your cheek. The quiet hum of waiting.

LIBRA IS // The pink of sunrise filtering through half-open blinds, cast over silk sheets. Opening windows and being greeted by the wafting scents of breakfast and pastries. Tucking hands into the pockets of a new sundress. Sidewalk sounds of birds and bicycle bells and cafe conversations. A thick, creamy smoothie with chunks of fruit stuck in the straw.

SCORPIO IS // The harvest moon, full and round and golden, peaking out from behind clouds that wisp around her like ghosts. The hollowed hooting of owls and sudden rustle of dry leaves. A breeze that raises goosebumps under sweater sleeves. Rich, dark chocolate on your teeth, and lungs full of crisp autumn air – the eerie peaceful of nighttime.

SAGITTARIUS IS // Speeding down an empty road, windows down, wind in your hair and squinting eyes. Crackling bonfires on a river bank, embers dancing as the sun slips behind the horizon. Marshmallows melted to the roofs of mouths – smell of fireworks, and mud on damp skin. The chirping of crickets and boisterous conversations of close friends.

CAPRICORN IS // Midnight all alone – soaking in the almost silence of fresh snowfall. Glowing street lamps illuminating crystallized puffs of breath and streets coated in sparkling, powder white. The burn of hot, black coffee on your tongue and warmth of the cup through knitted mittens on your hands. The still, winter air full of aged evergreen.

AQUARIUS IS // A little shop in your hometown you never noticed before. Dusty books in foreign letters and saturated fabrics, old typewriters and odd lamps. The unique vibration of a phonograph drifts through air that smells like ginger, and something that can’t quite be placed. It leaves spice on the tongue. Tingling of curiosity buzzing under the skin.

PISCES IS // A midday picnic on the beach. Sunshine glittering on the sea, its shore decorated by delicate shells and colored umbrellas. Toes sinking slowly into wet sand as waves wash over them, the rhythmic ebbing and flowing of tides. Distinct scents of sunscreen and sea foam – the sweetness in a juicy mouthful watermelon. The haze of a dreamy day.

Hickey

Original picture by @Iamm​arissakaye

He was warm under the covers next to you. His hair disheveled, his face relaxed, his eyelashes laying against his cheeks. He still took your breath away, even after all this time.

You let your hand travel across his chest, tracing his tattoos with the tip of your finger. A sigh escaped his strawberry lips, leaving his mouth a bit open. With a smirk you leaned up, your left hand firmly planted on his chest. Softly you pressed your lips to his.

“Morning, baby.”, you muttered against his mouth.

A lazy smile. A hum.

He was still mostly asleep, you could tell. And usually, on his days off, you let him sleep in, because he needed his rest. But you hadn’t seen him in a few days and last night he had been too tired for anything other than crushing you against his chest as he had fallen asleep. So now you were impatient for some more affection.

You made your way down his jawline with the lightest of kisses. From his prickly, stubbled chin to the edge of his jaw and up to the beginning of his hairline, the across his forehead and back down on the right side of his face.

Nothing.

Keep reading

auguste was problematic 2k17

i’ve been seeing a lot of talk about how laurent wasn’t really a reliable narrator about auguste and his faults so i made this post about things that were wrong with auguste

  • had an irrational dislike of the word ‘pelvis’
  • his favourite food was strawberries but he became allergic as a teenager….. didn’t stop him from eating strawberries
    • ‘auguste, please don’t’ ‘the world can’t take this away from me’ *shoves a strawberry into his mouth* ‘that is so good…. please take me to the physician’
  • made muscles at himself in the mirror…. vere’s saviour everybody
  • so?? comfortable??? with his sexuality??? it got ridiculous
    • this is more for modern!auguste but please consider the following: laurent is reserved and damen is confident with himself but he’s also private about his sex life. and then there’s auguste. who is just so casually open about e v e r y t h i n g 
    • ‘damen, i hear you’re bisexual’ ‘yes’ ‘wow that’s great. i’m straight but let me tell you about the times i experimented with men -’
    • ‘hey laurent i need to use your phone’ ‘okay - wait no! don’t look at that!’ ‘why?’ ‘it’s my…. bank information. i’m doing online banking.’ ‘your boyfriend is sexting you, isn’t he? laurent that’s nothing to be ashamed of. i have been in countless relationships where we found pleasure in-’ ‘stOP’
  • his hair got frizzy when it was humid
  • could not sing at all
    • also couldn’t play an instrument
    • my guy had no musical talent whatsoever
  • flirted with EVERYBODY
  • sent his girlfriends love letters and would sit there for HOURS trying to get them right. he kept a thesaurus in his chambers. each one had at least three drafts…. he wrote really cheesey poetry…. what a loser
  • pretended to take notes during political meetings when he was actually doodling
  • his best friend was his baby brother
    • who am i kidding that’s adorable
    • fuck i don’t even know him but i miss him

feel free to add your own Auguste Flaws

2

the Old Man has a cough, so he’s on antibiotics for a month. I thought he’d loathe me for making him swallow the stuff, but…..it tastes like strawberry? after his first mouthful he spent 1.5 seconds working himself up for a stomping tantrum, but then the FLAVOUR HIT & you could see his little rabbit brain consider 🤔

that plastic injector got thoroughly cleaned by his gross Old Man tongue 

the principle cellist in my university’s orchestra is probably the most beautiful and talented human beings i’ve ever lay eyes on. all i do is stare at him during rehearsal and i’m pretty sure he’s thinking “why is the third chair - second violin always staring at me and i’m just jhfjhgkhjhfgjhgvhj ur beaut.