𖦹 Unfolded | Chapter 2

⋆˚࿔MASTERLIST˚⋆ˎˊ˗

⭑.ᐟ TWISTED WONDERLAND

━ A NIGHT TO REMEMBER | MALLEUS D.

⭑.ᐟ CREEPYPASTA

━ UNFOLDED | TIM W.

𖦹๋࣭ CHAPTER─ I - II - III

⭑.ᐟ GRAVITY FALLS

━ COLD ESPRESSO | FIDDLEFORD H. M.

━ WARM LATTE | FIDDLEFORD H. M.

╶ˏˋ MOODBOARD

Dark academia

A Night to Remember

★ CHARACTER ─ Malleus Draconia

✦ GENRE ─ fluff

★ WARNING ─ none

✦ SUMMARY ─ In the ballroom of NBC, glancing amongst the crowd, you noticed him. This was your chance.

Note: I think this takes place after they sang "Make a Wish"? I don't really know... Im probably not the only one who got this idea, but I just really wanted to write this one. It came to me while I was listening to "Ma Meilleure Ennemie" on loop

The ballroom of Noble Bell College glimmered under the soft light of the chandeliers. The elegance of the surroundings seemed to amplify the elegance of every guest present. Gowns swirled like blooming flowers and tuxedos glided across the polished floors, all accompanied by the hum of music and laughter. You stepped into the room, your attire fitting perfectly for the occasion—a vision of grace amidst the crowd.

Your eyes scanned the room, drawn instinctively to him. Malleus Draconia stood near the edge of the ballroom, his striking masquerade attire radiating an air of majesty that left onlookers hesitant to approach. Sebek stood honorably by his side, his intense gaze warding off any who might muster the courage to engage the heir of Briar Valley.

But not you.

You wove your way through the crowd, your heart racing with anticipation as Malleus’s gaze found yours. His eyes seemed to soften, the imposing presence he carried melting into something more gentle. With a small, almost unnoticeable smile, he stepped away from Sebek and began moving towards you.

The music shifted, signaling the start of a dance. The crowd parted slightly, as if the world itself made space for the moment between you and him. You reached him just as the first notes echoed through the hall, and he offered you his gloved hand.

"May I have this dance?" his voice, calm and smooth, a gentle smile that just warms your heart.

"Of course," you replied, placing your hand in his.

The dance began. He moved with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, his steps perfectly measured and graceful. You, however, let the music guide you, your style freer and more expressive. At first, it felt like a mismatch, but then you noticed something extraordinary—Malleus was slowly mimicking your movements, his usually precise steps loosening to mirror your fluidity.

A laugh bubbled from your lips, and he smiled—a genuine, delighted expression that lit up his face. Together, you danced, your contrasting styles blending into something uniquely yours. The crowd around you blurred, the music your only anchor to reality.

He twirled you around, his grip steady yet gentle, and you couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound light and free as it mingled with the melody. As you spun back into his arms, the world seemed to pause for a heartbeat; eyes locking onto yours.

Later, you found yourselves on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The stars above stretched endlessly, their light casting a faint glow over the gardens below. The muffled sounds of the ballroom drifted through the open doors, but out here, it felt as though you were in an entirely different world.

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, and Malleus gave you a look of amused curiosity, his emerald eyes alight with a rare glimmer of playfulness.

"How’d you know how to dance like that?" you teased, referencing his loose, carefree movements that had mirrored your own.

"I didn’t," he replied smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You blinked. “You’re saying you were just winging it?”

“Of course,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “I followed your lead. If it seemed otherwise, perhaps you’re a better guide than you realize.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. "Well," you said softly, "I think you’re a natural. But next time, maybe don’t outshine me at my own style.."

...

"I never imagined I would enjoy myself so much tonight," he admitted, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "You’ve shown me something new—something wonderful."

You leaned against the balcony rail, looking at him. "I enjoyed every moment, too..."

He turned toward you fully, his gaze unwavering. "I’ve often been surrounded by people yet felt entirely alone. But with you, I’ve felt… seen." His words touched something deep within you, and before you could respond, his smile widened—a genuine, heartfelt expression that seemed almost out of place on someone so regal.

"I'm grateful," he said simply, his voice filled with warmth. You smiled back, feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t thought possible. In that moment, under the starlit sky, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet, unspoken promise of something more.

I haven't been writing since I was busy with school, and also been kinda focused on drawing more... so I feel like im not as good? but so far I like this Idea more than the rest..

Soo... how was it? GOOD? BAD? It feels rushed.. OH NOO!

I feel like it didn't really turned out on how I wanted it to, but I barely even remember it

I think im gonna try to focus on twst more :•)

exchange of roses, ep 1: the battle between the two brutes

host club! jjk x fem!reader

ep. overview the former kendo champs, sukuna and mori, face off in a kendo duel. let's see how this goes!

gojo satoru is the head of jujutsu technology academy's elite high school host club with his friends: geto suguru, nanami kento, itadori sukuna, shoko ieiri, haibara yu, and of course, their princess manager. what happens when they go up against another elite host club in an exchange event with different schools? let's find out!

a/n: erm, the next two events will def be more interactive with the ohshc, the club specialty ep will def have a lot of ohshc/jjk interactions. im just being indecisive rn

the clashing of the shinai (sword made of bamboo) sounded through the room reserved for jujutsu tech. the early morning awoken by the continuous practicing of techniques against the dummies. it wasn't as if there was some sort of waver in sukuna's confidence for the upcoming event later in the day. perhaps, it was the weight of his club's reputation because of his greediness and pride from the prior day's small conference despite it was his doing.

he shook off the thought by striking the side of the body with the outer third of the shinai. his concentration was broken only to hear snoring, causing him to sigh. he brought satoru and (y/n) to accompany him. for the former, they were supposed to train together, and for the latter, she was only there for moral support. endearing, really.

trailing over to the sprawled out figure, he dropped the tip of the shinai onto his stomach, causing satoru to jolt and immediately sit up straight, arms at ready to fight. his eyes followed up to the shinai and its holder, "oh, it's just you. what time is it?"

sukuna glanced over to the clock, "8:06."

"ugh, it's so early," satoru plopped down onto the ground, stretching his limbs star-like. he looked over to their manager, "and, she's still sleeping."

(y/n) was slumped over, neck surely hurting. she was at first delighted to watch the two spar and prepare for their martial arts games. she watched intently, handing genuine praises out, knowing both thrived off of them. sukuna would never display his appreciation for them, but she noticed he holds his head a little higher, more tilt in his smirk. as time passed, satoru tapping out by 6:00, both succumbed to slumber.

without much thought, sukuna lightly poked her head with the shinai, causing satoru to swat away the stick. she stirred, only to snap her eyes open, remembering where was, "what time is it?"

"7:08."

hearing the time, she laid down, resting her eyes, "it's too early."

"tch," sukuna turned around, swinging around the shinai.

"my neck hurts," she groaned, trying to massage the crick.

"i'm surprised that you didn't move around," satoru flailed his arms around on top of her, which he earned a heavy hand to the stomach.

"if you two are both going to lounge around, then leave," sukuna chastised.

"awww, kuna, but we've been here since earlier. we're both more than ready."

"we all need to leave, the announcements start at 8:30. i can't have you both missing breakfast either," (y/n) rose to her feet, trying to pull satoru up with her. she eventually quit, when he went deadweight. "sukuna, you don't start until 8:45 later, and your first opponent isn't really anyone that i've heard of. you'll be fine. be at breakfast soon."

the pink-haired teen grumbled, but his stomach seemed to reflect his sound. breakfast doesn't sound too bad.

8:40.

"look, there's itadori-kun"

honey pointed through the glass windows of the gymnasium. there was sukuna, preparing for his first round of the day with (y/n) holding his men (helmet). he was fastening his kote (gloves), which he soon put his helmet on, bonking the top of (y/n)'s head in the process.

"he looks scary with all of that on," kaoru commented.

the ouran host club gathered around honey senpai at the window, watching the match get started. sukuna and his opponent bowed to each other before bowing to the officials with the referees. now, the match was on.

sukuna's personality reflected how his techniques and how executed kendo. teasing, he had a sway in the way he holds his shinai, falsifying whether he would initiate an attack. this would allow catching his enemies off balance, which is when he first strikes.

"kote!" ippon, the perfect strike.

the red flag raised to signal a point to sukuna. cheers echoed in the gym, and the host club couldn't help but cheer with them. the players reset once more in the middle before resuming the match at the referee's call.

"he moved so fast," hikaru exclaimed.

"itadori-chan hasn't changed one bit with his techniques. he's still so fun to watch!" honey said. he eyed takashi, who used to look up to sukuna's techniques when they were all younger. the two never formally met the pink-haired student, however, it's hard to miss those colored tufts with loud cheers when passing through the championships.

the ouran host club watched intently, if they took their eyes off, they might miss an important attack.

however the other player wasn't making any offensive moves, probably unsure how to attack him. sukuna lessened his tough stance, hoping the other would just charge at him, but there was no budge. he started to quickly swing at the shinai, hopefully waking up the sorry guy. however, there was an opportunity that sukuna doesn't ever miss. he trapped the player, giving him the opening to thrust the tip of the shinai to his neck.

the red flag goes up once more, and the bell signalling that the match was over. they go to their respective starting positions, wrapping up the match. cheers roared through the gym, as sukuna removed his men off.

"woah, he's so cool," kaoru marveled, the twins pretending to be kendo players with imaginary. tamaki was already taking pictures with his phone during the entirety of match, which his members caught him ("it's just for reference.")

"his last kendo tournament, he only lost as the referees were paid off to let the other person win. since then, he hasn't been seen competing," kyoya stated.

"he was supposed to compete in takashi's last tournament but he pulled out of it last minute," honey added, earning a nod from the taller male.

truth be told, sukuna only missed that tournament as the host club had a beach vacation at the special request of kento. no one wanted to pass over the opportunity to a holiday or how kento asked for something.

"well, mori-senpai, we'll be rooting for you in your kendo match," haruhi smiled before the twins dragged her into the gym, trying to find seats.

"you'll do amazing, senpai!" tamaki shared a grin before quickly following the trio, shouting after them.

a small smile on takashi's face at the encouragement from his members. honey noticed the contentment on his face, knowing how grateful he was despite the little words the taller expressed. he pulled his cousin down, enough to pat the top of his head, "good luck out there."

even with nothing said, he just feels everything completely.

"the next two sections, martial arts and table tennis, will be happening concurrently at around 10:30. so try to support both groups as best as possible," (y/n) read off from her clipboard, earning a salute from her members. ieiri and yu were participating in the table tennis duo matches, while satoru would be participating in the martial arts (which he found out that the specific art was karate aka not his favorite).

"and what sport will you be participating in, miss manager?" suguru questioned, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"none, everything is all on you guys today," she answered, in honesty, she wasn't feeling any of the individual events and would rather wait until tomorrow to expend any of her energy.

"that's no fun, but it'll be great having you support all of us. i expect the same amount of attention from you when i prepare for the relay," suguru pointed to the fact that she was helping sukuna prepare for his round earlier.

"he's just been on edge since this morning, figured the least i can do is help him with his equipment," she said, causing suguru to hum in response.

currently, the tall member from the ouran host club, morinozuka-san if she remembers correctly, was completing his kendo round. based on the portfolio kyoya built for them, he was a national kendo champion. the clicks of the bamboo swords heard through the gym. morinozuka currently playing the defensive side, as his opponent continued to play with a set of aggressive attacks.

it was already 1-0, due to morinozuka taking an advantage in the first minute of the match. however the round of kendo were only set for 10 minutes, and it looked like morinozuka-san was now playing for time before he strikes.

that was what sukuna was talking about during his morning session. he was already thinking about what was three steps ahead of him, as he usually does. sukuna brought up as him and morinozuka's strategies and techniques are about the same, and their match might have an extending round.

"look at him go, he has great balance," satoru commented as he watched.

"yeah, he's kinda the same to sukuna with the way he fights, but somehow very different," yu mentioned the fighting style. (y/n) thinks how morinozuka isn't as badgering as sukuna, probably has more patience and firmness.

morinozuka slipped through a weakness of his opponent, catching him completely off guard.

ippon! strike to the neck, and it was game.

"he ended the match, just like sukuna-senpai did," yu exclaimed.

cheers erupted again once the bell signalled the ending of the match.

"10 minutes until the final round with sukuna and that guy," ieiri said as their pink-haired host trailed in behind her, carrying his bag of items with him.

"that was fast, final round already?" suguru questioned. there were matches happening concurrently, but there should have been a couple of dozens.

"a lot of them forfeited kendo and martial arts, seeing who their competition was," kento answered. he was on patrol for (y/n), updating her on any information in terms of matches and the entire exchange event.

"losers!" satoru cried out, laughing, seemingly the only one who found it funny. "oh, come on, guys."

"alright, sukuna, you're up next!"

this is annoying. sukuna's pride and need to be irritating (according to (y/n)) always got in the way. sometimes, it worked in their favor, sometimes not. and in this situation, it's biting sukuna's ass. he never exerted extra efforts unless the outcome severely aided him in his favor. and now, he's stuck going toe-to-toe with a national kendo champion because he decided to say some shit (even if himself is champion, also)

typically, (y/n) or kento saves him (or satoru and suguru) when he's mouthing off, but they didn't.

he sighs while hopping back to resume his stance.

two options: give up by letting up or let run time

both options would result in failure in some way. the latter, in kendo rules, would result in an extension, and he still has to continue playing. the first would honestly just ruin his reputation, and morinozuka would see right through it. however if he forgoes both options and tries, it would seep into the second option regardless.

he's not the type to do it for anyone but himself, but why does he have the sudden urge to just do it for the club. no, he'll do it for himself despite if there's nothing to gain from it. what's the point if he can't win?

sukuna scanned the player in front of him, figuring out what would be the best way to earn a perfect hit. the height difference between both of them wasn't off too much, him just being a little taller than morinozuka. there wasn't many weak points to strike, but he would be able to test the waters.

he pulls the first offensive move since the beginning of the match. the bamboo sticks ring through the gym, both trying to earn a point. at this point, there shouldn't be much time left on the clock.

"this match is a little boring," hikaru yawned, to viewers, the match seemed to be rather long.

"we're going to find something more entertaining," kaoru completed his brother's thoughts, almost walking away until tamaki stopped them.

"hey, wait a minute, it's the last match and the least we can do for mori-senpai is to watch him," their boss made them sit back down, but they couldn't go without a huff. "what do you think will happen, honey-senpai?"

"it's hard to say. i bet both of their motives are for the clubs. since their techniques mirror each others quite well, i think the officials will send them to a draw without a round extension and give both a point in team points," honey said, as he downed a piece of his cake.

takashi tried to lunge and strike sukuna's left side of his torso, until it was blocked. there hasn't been a match where he was so unsure of what he planned to do for an attack, but here, this pink-haired teen has him stumped. they seem to mirror each other's movements and the plan of defense was, and even when he tries to do a technique he has never done, it's blocked. and it's back to square one.

sukuna almost plans to make a fool of himself and just charge without a technique, but it would give kiddish and actually tarnish his name. he could play dirty and force him out of bounds or make him drop his shinai.

however the bell rings, signalling the end of the match. the red and white flags raised. the two concede, finishing with the formalities to end a kendo match, waiting for the call from the officials.

"morinozuka takashi and itadori sukuna, the match ends in a draw. both performances leading up to this round have been tallied, which assumes into a draw. the games of table tennis and martial arts will start in an hour, please proceed."

"hmph," sukuna bows to takashi once more before mirroring his footsteps to exit the middle of the gym. he was rather unsure how to feel about the ending. he finds his members gathered together, waiting for him, grins all on their faces minus kento who only smiles softly.

"you did great, kuna!" their president first hugs him, which ends up piling everyone into embracing their cocky member. despite the uncertain ending to his kendo match, there was no doubt of the one skip in his heart as his club congratulated him.

that's enough skips for one day.

extra

8:40

"do you ever get nervous fighting or like before? do you feel anything during match days?" (y/n) questioned, watching sukuna adjust his equipment.

"no, i don't feel anything," he answered. though, he knew that she wouldn't have a random question without a reason, "what makes you ask?"

"just wondering." she fiddled with the flaps of the bottom of the helmet. "i don't know, i was also thinking about how angry i would be if i was playing a sport and so close to being a champion, only for me to lose because people got paid to alter the outcome."

he remembers that day vaguely, as he just wanted to push out the emotions that filled in him in those moments. so, it was a lie that he doesn't feel anything, that day, he felt everything. not even in a good way.

"that day, once i figured out the referees were paid off for the last round, why try if the result was already set in stone," he blankly stated, pulling his gloves on. the thing was he did try, he tried the best he was able to, everyone was counting on him that day. his host club, his family, but it just had to be paid off. so close to reaching his one goal, only to be snatched away by greed.

"is that why you stopped participating in kendo? because it might happen again?," she always knew, and he wasn't sure if he hated that she always knew.

"no," he was going to answer, but he wasn't sure how to respond anymore without giving her any leverage. he did lose the passion of participating in his club outside of the academy, as well as the one at jujutsu tech.

"hmm.. just a thought. but i wouldn't let anyone take what i enjoy away from me." she handed him his helmet with a soft smile on her face, "just so you know, we all knew you won that last point. we knew you won that day."

with that stupid smile on her face, he snatched the helmet.

and with that stupid skip in his heart, "get out of here."

ep 1, complete.

Myy backk hurtsss soo badd.. and i have no motivation to doo nothinn.. (ㄒ︵ㄒ)

Remember me when youre famous 🍎<3

I will <3 Plus ive still got a longgg way to go :)

─Warm Latte

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x reader

✦ Genre: Fluff?

★ Warnings: None

✦ Summary: With the thoughts that kept you up at night, you decided to call him. I guess you do have plans for the weekend now.

Note: This is a part 2 of cold espresso!! and thank you soo much for 60 notess on theree!! I hope you enjoy this one!!

The morning sun filters weakly through your curtains, painting your apartment in pale, washed-out colors. You wake up with a weight on your chest, the events of yesterday replaying in your mind. Fidds’s words linger, the almost-confession hanging between you like a half-finished sentence. You sit up, staring at the empty space beside you, the silence of your apartment amplifying the doubts that creep in.

Was it real, or were you both just caught up in a moment? What if he changes his mind? What if this ruins everything? The ache of uncertainty is a familiar one, but this time, it feels sharper—more personal. You’re not just risking a friendship; you’re risking the one constant that has always been there, the person who knows you better than anyone else.

You try to shake off the thoughts as you drag yourself into the kitchen, but they cling to you like the bitter taste of stale coffee. You placed the kettle on the stove, boiling it; but even then, the comforting sound of brewing can’t quiet the unease bubbling inside you. With your coffee done, You pour half a cup of milk; you finished brewing your coffee. The steam swirling like your scattered thoughts, as you stare at the phone that was mounted on the wall. You had a thought, should you call him? The missed opportunity, the half-formed words, and the weight of unsaid things hang in the air.

Maybe he’s already moved on. Maybe you’re just overthinking everything like you always do.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the button. You know you should say something, but fear grips you, tightening around your chest like a vice. What if he doesn’t want to hear from you? What if he regrets opening up? The latte’s warmth does little to thaw the icy grip of doubt in your heart. You bring the cup to your lips, letting the heat seep in, but it’s not enough to push you to action.

Finally, you take a deep breath, holding the phone as you let your thumb dial his number before you can even change your mind. The phone rings, each chime echoing your own heartbeat, loud and uncertain. You count the rings—one, two, three—each one heavier than the last until you hear the faint click and Fiddleford’s voice breaks through the static, warm and familiar.

"Mornin’, darlin’," Fidds greets, his tone light but a bit tired, like he’s been up thinking too. There’s a slight rasp in his voice, the kind that makes you think he’s been pacing his garage, lost in thought, maybe even wrestling with the same doubts that kept you awake. "Didn’t think I’d hear from ya this early."

The sound of his voice soothes and stings at the same time. You can hear the way he’s trying to keep things casual, but there’s an undercurrent there—a weight that wasn’t there before. You clutch your cup tighter, feeling a rush of nerves. "Hey, Fidds. I─ I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing."

There’s a pause, just long enough to make you wonder if he’s regretting yesterday. You picture him in his garage, tools scattered, the faint smell of motor oil and burnt circuits clinging to the air. You’ve seen that space a hundred times, but now it feels like a sanctuary you’re intruding upon. You almost wish you hadn’t called—almost.

"Aw, I’m alright," he replies, but there’s a crack in his voice, barely noticeable. "Been tinkerin’ in the garage. You know me, always got somethin’ to keep my hands busy."

You smile at the thought of him, sleeves rolled up, grease on his hands, lost in the creation of some new invention. It’s so quintessentially him, the way he pours himself into his work when he’s trying to work through something. But today, even that image doesn’t bring the comfort it used to. You can hear it in his words—the same uncertainty, the same fear of messing things up that’s been gnawing at you.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster some courage. "I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday. About what you said… and what I didn’t get to say."

There’s another pause on the line, heavy and charged, and you feel your heart drop. What if he’s changed his mind? What if this is all too much too soon? You imagine him, fidgeting with a screwdriver or wiping his hands on an old rag, anything to keep busy, to keep from saying what he’s really thinking.

"I’ve been thinkin’ about it too," he finally admits, his voice softer, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. It’s almost like he’s laying his heart bare, showing you the parts he’s always kept hidden, even from himself. "Was worried maybe I said too much, maybe scared ya off. But, truth is, I don’t regret it. Not one bit."

The knot in your chest loosens just a little, and you swallow the lump in your throat. His admission is raw, real, and it hits you harder than you expected. "You didn’t scare me off, Fidds. If anything─ if I'm being honest, I’m the one who’s scared. Scared of losing what we have, scared of taking a chance and it not working out."

He sighs, and you can almost see him running a hand through his hair, frustrated but hopeful. "I get it. Hell, I’m scared too. But if we don’t try, we’ll never know, will we?"

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling the last bit of doubt start to melt away. "You’re right. And I don’t want to keep wondering. I want to try, Fidds. I want to see what this could be."

His soft chuckle warms you from the inside out. It’s the kind of laugh that used to fill late nights with the soft glow of desk lamps and the quiet hum of old music playing on his radio. "Well, shoot, darlin’, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. How ‘bout we make it official then? A real date. You and me, no holdin’ back."

The tension between you evaporates, replaced by a lightness that feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. The reality of his words sinks in, each one planting hope where doubt had taken root. You smile, glancing out the window as the morning brightens just a little more. "I’d love that. Tonight?"

"Tonight," Fidds repeats, a hint of excitement coloring his voice. You can hear the smile behind his words, and it sends a flutter through your chest. "How ‘bout we make it somethin’ special? Don’t gotta be fancy or nothin’, but, y’know… somewhere that feels right."

You pause, thinking about all the possibilities. There’s a nervous thrill coursing through you—picking the perfect spot feels like the first step into something real. "How about that little Italian place downtown? The one with the fairy lights and the outdoor patio? I’ve been wanting to try it for ages, and I hear the food’s amazing.."

Fidds hums thoughtfully, and you can almost picture the way his face lights up at the suggestion. "Sounds like a plan, darlin’. I always knew you had good taste. Plus, can’t go wrong with some pasta and good company, huh?"

You laugh softly, feeling your nerves ease with his playful tone. "Guess not. I’m warning you though, I might order half the menu. I’ve been craving good Italian for weeks."

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Well, don’t you worry ‘bout that. I’ll keep up. Might even out-eat ya if we’re not careful. And hey, if it’s half as good as the company, I reckon we’re in for one hell of a night."

There’s a beat of comfortable silence before Fidds’s voice drops a little, more sincere. "Y’know, I’ve been lookin’ forward to this. Feels like we’re finally doin’ somethin’ we shoulda done a long time ago." His words tug at your heart, the weight of everything left unsaid still hanging between you. But there’s a new kind of hope there too, one that’s slowly outshining the fear. "Yeah… me too... I’ve always had a feeling that maybe we were just waiting for the right time."

"Guess it took us a while to figure that out, huh?" he says, a hint of laughter in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the emotion underneath. "But better late than never. We’re makin’ our own time now."

You feel a warmth spreading through you, a soft glow that makes the morning feel a little brighter. "I’m glad we are. I think… I think this is going to be good for us. No more ‘what ifs,’ just us, figuring it out together." Fidds’s voice softens, his sincerity coming through clearly. "Yeah. And whatever happens, I just want ya to know—I’m in this with ya. We’ll take it one step at a time, and if it ever feels like too much, we’ll talk it out. No pressure, no rush. Just us."

You smile, feeling lighter than you have in a long time. "Thanks, Fidds. I really needed to hear that. And don’t worry—I’m all in too."

There’s a comfortable pause before he speaks again, his tone turning playful. "Alright then, tonight it is. Seven sound good? I’ll make sure to wear somethin’ that ain’t covered in grease, promise."

You laugh, the sound carrying the kind of joy that’s been missing for far too long. "I think you’d look good no matter what, but I’ll hold you to that. Seven it is."

"See ya tonight, darlin’," Fidds says, his voice light, but with an underlying current of something more—a promise, a new beginning. "We’re gonna have ourselves a real good time."

You hang up, feeling the anticipation bubbling up inside you. Tonight isn’t just another dinner; it’s the start of something new, something that’s been waiting in the wings for far too long. And for the first time in a long time, you feel ready.

What do you thinkk?? Good? Bad?? Tell mee!! Ive been thinking what to do with this one.. not as creative but i like it!

Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome!

MMMMM Orange juice

I dont think Fiddleford McGucket gets enough love.. And I've already read all of em on here 💔

Y'all

I SWEAR ITS BECAUSE OF THAT ONE IDIA I GOT IN THE FIRST SINGLEPULL 😭😭😭☹️☹️🤬🤬😡