#but i thought it would be kinda interesting for the player to be his own guy

[amphitriteswife]

Do more of ror school au hcs please 🙏🏻 💓 💕 💗

📝✂️Ror/ Snv characters as Students📝✂️

Also am I spotting a fellow Alien stage fan??? @miserable-homo-momo

Hades:

☠️He’s a top student. On top of most of his classes, and he’s a senior.

☠️ Mostly hangs out with Qin or his brothers. He doesn’t necessarily have friends but a lot of ppl want to be tho, only he focuses on being a big brother.

☠️ Listens to a lot of music tastes. Like his play list is full of mood swings. It contains: Classic music, Pop Music, HipHop, Heavy metal ect. It kinda depends on what he feels tbh. A few of his faves would be: Tupac, Beyonce, Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi B and Mozart.

☠️Drives a nice car which made him very popular. He used it to take his brothers everywhere but he ended up sharing it between his brothers and bought a motorbike of his own🤭

☠️ He had a lot of piercings: Ears, lip, Eyebrow…nipple…But he looks good and knows how to pull it off. Like just Imagine it. Gah dayum

☠️ He actually skipped class?? You wouldn’t expect it from him but he did skip class. It’s not often but once in a blue moon. Most of the times it’s cause he wants to hang out with his brothers.

☠️ goes to all the house parties. As good of a student he is, he also likes going out. So most of the time he gets invited to parties or hang outs.

☠️ most ppl thought he was a player but ended up being one of the ppl that married their high school sweetheart. He might have dated some ppl but they weren’t flings but actually legit relationships

☠️ probably the one person that brings snacks or drinks for the class if they have a field trip or just a hot school day y’know. Like just imagine it being a hot sunny day and you still have a lot of lessons to follow and boom, hades brings ice cream for the class?? Life safer fr🙏

☠️ He probably likes History, astronomy and psychology. He kind of has random subject but he just chose what he deems as interesting. He only likes the 🪐⭐️🌠🌌 and not the math in astronomy.

☠️ He cooks on field trips that last more days. Only if its’s necessary tho. Mainly because he’s rich enough to afford going to restaurants or the school handles it.

☠️ he’s the therapist friend fr. Genuinely knows when there’s something wrong and asks, not in public tho. He doesn’t judge but actually listens to you. He also offers comfort if you need it. What a goat

☠️ class president. Even though he didn’t want to be. Most ppl voted for him for the above stated reasons. And because he’s kind of a big brother type.

☠️ man could do anything and he wouldn’t get into trouble. Mostly because all the teachers love him as a student so shawty has a good reputation.

☠️ He’s bad at art yet has very nice cursive handwriting. Probably because he takes extra poetry lessons. Or he practiced it till he was satisfied.

☠️ Is in the chess club with Beelzebub and the birb. They often play and even have participate in Tournaments.

☠️ He’s the type that also chose languages as subjects, so like German, French, Italian, Chinese, Latin and ofc Greek. Probably because his ass has a photographic memory

☠️ doesn’t eat cafeteria food and actually goed off campus to buy food. If some of his lessons are canceled he just goes to restaurants or shopping streets to kill time

☠️ Actually doesn’t rly do his homework. He only does it in classes that check homework or give bonuses for it, otherwise he usually doesn’t do it. Besides he only studies like 2 weeks before the week where all the tests are. Unless he knows he needs more time for a certain subject. Then he catches up

☠️ Went to Spain, Germany and France because he choose those subjects and teased his younger brothers for it. He did buy them a requested item for each of em. Not Zeus cause he requested a Latina babe.

☠️ He has a place in school where he always sits when he aint off campus. So if ya eveer try to find him he’s probably there.

☠️ graduated w honors fr. Mosy of the teacher wrote nice things about them and held wonderful speeches for him since he was a good student. His quote in the year book was sum like ‘👍’.

☠️ He probably went on luxurious vacations and posted the pictures on his insta. He dont do snap or any other form of social media.

Buddha

🪷 the student that doesn’t really care about grades but does get good ones.

🪷 He’s usually eats in class. But for some reason the teachers allow it cause he ain’t causing a mess. Or because he’s actually a prince and could buy the school in a second.

🪷 Definitely choose a language as a subject and geography cause man knows a lot about different cultures. My goat

🪷 Definitely a music lover. You can always catch him with one AirPod in his ear. Probably has the latest phone too cause he richy rich.

🪷 Goes to on lot of vacations. Like every break he’s somewhere. Japan, Greece, Italy, Singapore, Canada, Brazil, he goes to many places. Brodie might start doing them travel vlogs atp

🪷 He has lots of Social Media’s. Tiktok, Tenten, insta, snap, Discord??🤨 , Be real ect. His tiktok is just goofy ahh videos while his insta is usually pics of his vacations. Like you know them influencers who have them nice ahh pics? He has that, but he just aint a influencer

🪷 Never takes notes in class. So you might wanne share em w him if you have em. In return he’ll let you munch on his snacks.

🪷 BIG supporter of Cultural day. Like he already sighed a petition and complained that every school should have one. He even offered to host them and buy stuff for it.

🪷 biggest class skipper together with Qin. He’s either off campus buying stuff, at home cause brodie didn’t wanne come or he just bailed mid way with the ‘can i use the restroom?’ Tactic. His ass almost got into trouble w the school cause of the many times he was absent.

🪷 If you have a presentation with him. Yall will score perfectly. Especially if it’s a subject he knows a lot about, brodie will carry you like how Eren carried that stone in Shiganshina (aot reference 🤨)

🪷 Deals candy in school. Like you know how some schools have the policy that their cafeteria doesn’t sell unhealthy stuff? And the stuff is overpriced asf. Yeah he broke that by buying a lot of different candies and letting ppl buy em for €1 no matter what the OG price was. He may or may not have gotten into trouble but man did not care

🪷 LOVESS LOVES LOVES school trips. He always buys snacks for em. He usually researches the place where yall is going so that he can divide the time and go see the whole place instead of just only doing the assignment.

🪷 He is friends w actually almost everyone. Almost. Except Loki. But it’s difficult. Loki HATES him. While Buddha is kinda like 😒. It got so bad that Loki had to switch classes fr. Now one may ask why? Buddha worked together Sigyn that’s why

🪷 house parties, pool parties, after school parties, just any party tbh. If he catches one he is going. And Believe me it makes it so much better. He has the music, the vibe, the photo’s everything. Man is so chill fr

🪷 lowkey good friends w Hades. Mainly because they both chose languages. They usually practice together if they have like a verbal test. They got each other’s back. And yeah Buddha’s a senior cause he skipped some grades

🪷 Ppl expected him to actually be single cause of how care free he is but they were wrong cause man was SMITTEN by Yasodharā. They were literally THE couple.

🪷 Got into a class fight with Loki. Imma leave room for yall to think how that went. Man CLEARED him. But he didn’t hit tho. He didn’t square up. He just dodged and threw chips in his face.

🪷 watched anime, reads manhwa and hd merch. But he the cool ones that keep it lowkey and dont rly act upon it

🪷 Man saved the ppl who graduated w him. He arranged that the ppl in the last year could have a week long vacation to Italy. Mainly to see art or just enjoy being free from school.

🪷 As much as he hated school. He’s the type that goes for a good time. He likes being w his friends or his glorious gf Yasodharā.

Shiva:

🧿 Laid back student that barely passes but doesn’t really mind.

🧿 member of the party club! He hosts all the dances, plays, school events, parties, gala’s. Anything to do with the sort!

🧿 Also a big fan of house parties. Good music, good vibe, lots of ppl, drinks n a good home? He’s all in.

🧿 He 100% had music, art and religion as a subject. Dancing is included with art and he gives extra lessons to the youngsters. He might even have his own dance club on campus.

🧿 He’s also a fan of p.e. He 100% has a one sided rivalry with Hercules and Ares. But if it’s Ares and Hercules against each other he’s on Hercules’ side.

🧿 He hosted a Gala for the seniors and it was so goated, he even had a department for ppl who didn’t want to dance and put on game consoles on the big ahh boards.

🧿 He and Poseidon were playing Mario Kart and SSBU against each other. Half of the ppl there spectated on how the two were so focused and at each other’s throat. But after that Shiva went back to dancing.

🧿 A lot of ppl think that he’s poly but he’d monogamous and has a girlfriend. Aka Parvati. Who was his partner to homecoming. Which he hosted ofcourse.

🧿 Skips school so much that he once had to have a conversation with the school therapist to make sure there was nothing going on at home. (There isn’t) but he played it off cause he a smooth talker and got away with it.

🧿 He’s besties w Rudra. They’re the duo that everyone knows cause they’ve been going to the same school and usually have most classes together. Even if they don’t like the subject. Like you can see Shiva in some classes they don’t have together cause he just asks the teacher it its cool and most of the time it’s cool. Most.

🧿 They the duo that they meet each other in the halls cause they both got sent out of the classroom. Or they both have detention and never do any work in it there.

🧿 you can usually spot them outside going for a run or at the gym. They also share a playlist for of they go to the gym and its very intense. Or they’re goofing around and end up doing something else.

🧿 He’s also in Hades class as a senior but they aint rly close, no bad blood but they just have their own friends. Though If they were to be paired up they’d make a very good duo.

🧿 Also a big fan of Culture day. But the best part is that Parvati is in a beautiful sari, her make up done, mehendi on her hands and feet, churias on her arms, a veil on her head. Hmm perfect.

🧿 He lowkey beefs with Loki but does it in a goofy way y’know. Like he seems very intimidating cause of his physique and height but he’s lowkey chill and doesn’t bother ppl.

🧿 is lowkey a model together with Poseidon. He posts a lot of pictures on his insta, Indian weddings (they’re the best) pics of himself or if he went somewhere. Some of them are lowkey so aestheticly pleasing.

Yuh that’s it. Might make a part 3 tho

Tagging: @mizz-sea-nymph @vilereign @tinyy-tea-cup @das-jaim3 @monstertreden @rukia-writes @snowmantita @brokensenseofhumor @itz-hel @nicasdreamer @imperfectbloodmoon @swallowtail-lotus @m3l-moony @riseofamoonycake @bumblebees-knees-threes @praisethesuuun @telvess @salmonpoki @aresarmyblog

#ror/snv characters as students #buddha snv #snv #ror #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #snv hades #ror hades #snv buddha #ror buddha #snv shiva #ror shiva #ror parvati #snv parvati #ror headcanons #snv headcanons

[bastardlybonkers]

feetman

#hlvrai #half live vr but the ai is self aware #gordon freeman #gordon feetman #so idk if theres any like ‘metastory’ to there being a player or if its literally just supposed to be wayne #but i thought it would be kinda interesting for the player to be his own guy #cause like to me #a big part of it that makes it fun is that gordon has like #no actual stakes #dude is getting pissed for the sake of it #he knows its a game and is just freaking out at the ai being so alive u know #now since i cant remember if theres some kind of canon or metastory to the player you can completely decide for yourself why hes playing #or how he got the game #is he just some guy? is it an experiment? is it for his job? who knows! #hes The Player #also if ur wondering why his design is so similar to gordons #its cause i didnt wanna stray into the unrecognizable lmao #also. i really really really didnt wanna draw the fucking suit #and yes thats benrey on the tamagotchi #i think it would be very funny if he could cart them all around in tamagotchis #sorry for long tags

[inbarfink]

Any analysis of how Undertale deals with Pacifism and how it tries to guide the Player towards it has to take a deep look at Papyrus. Because Papyrus is the one character in the game who will never kill, the one actual ‘True Pacifist’ in the game’s main cast. 

I mean, the Player can be an even bigger Pacifist. Papyrus does still FIGHT, and the Player can get through an entire run without draining a single sliver of HP. But… they can also be the world’s biggest murderbastard and literally stab reality to death. 

Toriel would very much like to not kill, but she is also fully capable of doing so.

Same with Asgore, but he has a lot more actual blood on his hands. Undyne and Mettaton are both fully 100% willing to kill to accomplish their goals. Sans is non-violent in most runs because he’s too lazy and depressed to do anything, and when he is motivated into actions - it is in the form of a FIGHT to the death. Alphys… the timeline is a bit fuzzy cause both she and Mettaton love lying so much, but it seems like she did sincerely add deadly weapons to Mettaton cause killing humans would make him more 'useful' and then had second thoughts once she developed a parasocial relationship with the Human Child and THEN she and Mettaton started hatching their little play-acting plan. I think??

With Papyrus there is NONE of this ambiguity, we know for sure - no matter what timeline or what may come - The Great Papyrus will always choose MERCY.

And the interesting thing about that is on a Meta-Sense, Papyrus is a very rare example of the game giving MERCY towards the Player. 

Because the game starts out being really obtuse with the Sparing mechanic and how it works. If you want to be a Pacifist in Undertale from the get-go, you’re gonna have to work for it. You're gonna have to figure it out on your own and commit to it and believe that it's possible. It's basically a test of your own belief in non-violence and your moral integrity. Then, the RUINS end with the Toriel boss battle - in a way, that’s probably the hardest Sparing puzzle in the whole game. And it’s very very easy to accidentally kill her. (I’d almost say that’s the intention of the battle, to try to goad the Player into Resetting so they can see how the game remembers across RESETs)

And then we have Papyrus, and it’s not just that his ‘Sparing Puzzle’ is something as simple as outlasting him and letting him run out of dialogue - and it’s not just that he’s the only boss that will just give up and let you continue if you lose to him enough times. it’s also that, just as Papyrus is the only boss incapable of accidentally killing the Player - he’s also the only boss that the player is incapable of accidentally killing.

(Okay, fine, to be pedantic, there’s also Asgore)

I mean, the Player can certainly kill him if they want to - but draining Papyrus’s HP just makes him skip through his battle dialogue right to the end of it. It’s designed in such a way that, no matter what Route you're on and no matter what approach you take with Papyrus - you will always end up on this screen.

Unlike basically any other Monster in this game, including the major boss battle just before him - you can’t kill Papyrus accidently. You can't kill him without also having Sparing him as an option. The game kinda treats killing Papyrus as one of the Worst Things You Can Do because killing Papyrus will always be a deliberate, considered action done to a person who will not kill you and who has stopped wanting to FIGHT and has extended a hand of Mercy. With the game clearly communicating what you need to do to Spare him at that moment.

And that means that - even if you killed before, even if you don’t have the patience of a True Pacifist, even if you spent all this time in the game without even trying to engage with the Sparing mechanic… as long as you don’t want to be a Huge Rat Bastard, the game is basically gifting you with the very very easy option to not be. Being a Pacifist in Undertale is usually a challenge - a puzzle to be solved, a test to pass. But as long as you aren’t intentionally trying to be the Worst Person - the game is basically giving you Papyrus. 

If you accept his Mercy, you are accepting the game’s Mercy. That sort of benefit-of-the-doubt assumption that maybe all of the LOVE you might have accumulated so far was all due to honest mistakes or panic or an attempt in self-defense. That you still deserve this one chance to prove that you are not intentionally, maliciously cruel - or at least not like the Worst Person in the World. Even if you did kill before, you still deserve at least one friend.

And Sparing Papyrus leads you to his wonderful Hangout/Dating Sequence and to his Phone Calls and they all add so much wholesome charm to the Undertale experience and no matter what happens Papyrus will always think the best of the Player and he will always trust them and it also makes Sans also kinda your buddy by default. And more than just adding a little bit of wholesome charm into even the more LOVE-filled Playthroughs, I think this is meant to try and incentivize these players into trying out the Mercy mechanic a bit more.

Whatever it’s, like, for future playthroughs or Resetting the game right there to try a True Pacifist Run right there and then or just trying to be a little kinder for the rest of this current playthrough - especially since there’s an emphasis about the close friendship Papyrus has with the upcoming boss Undyne, and to a lesser extent with his idol and next-next boss battle Mettaton. It’s like “well, if you didn’t figure out how to spare before, this is how you do it? And isn’t it nice to have a friend? Isn’t it nice to not have to kill this lovable skeleton man? You should do this more often wink wink nudge nudge!”

And it’s like… all of Papyrus’ loved ones care about him so much but they also look down on his pacifism. They see his inability to kill and desire to make friends as simple naivete and that’s why all tend to hide the truth from him all the time. About what will happen to the Human he will capture, about what his new Human friend might’ve done, about the fact that they view him as so naïve. 

They admire it on some level, that’s why they want to protect it, but they also see it as a weakness which is why they want to protect it by lying to him all the time. But, you know, Undyne says that if Papyrus goes into battle he’ll be ‘ripped into little smiling shreds’ and that is certainly what happens every time a Player chooses to refuse Papyrus’ Mercy and the game’s Mercy and press that FIGHT button…

But have you thought about all the times that doesn’t happen? All the careless or violent players who were offered that skeletal hand of friendship, accepted it and then carried that offered kindness forward for the rest of the game? All the players motivated to do good for the sake of their buddy Papyrus? All the Murder Routes stopped because the player just didn’t have it in them to kill someone who believes in them so earnestly?

Like, no, it’s not a surefire thing - especially since Papyrus has so much less narrative power than the Actual Unkillable Time God that is the Player. But it happened, and it happened many many times to many players. Papyrus offered Mercy, the game offered Mercy. And much like Frisk’s Pacifism, it comes from a place of seeing the honest goodness in your ‘enemy’ and can inspire them to become a better person - this little sparkle of goodness being passed forwards. 

And I think that’s beautiful, even if it didn’t happen in every timeline. Any potential future where Papyrus’ kindness can have such an effect on the Player and thus the entire trajectory of the Underground validates his kindness and pacifism on some level - even if there are also always the potential worlds that it backfires completely. 

And there’s also one other way in which the Great Papyrus Proves Pacifism Pays. One that is a bit more practical, perhaps. And one that Papyrus himself is not even aware of. 

Papyrus’ boss battle can be a surprisingly challenging one specifically because he is the only one who doesn’t kill the Player.

Like there is a reason why Papyrus will just offer you to skip his Fight after you lose to him three times, because if he didn’t do that - there’s an honest risk that the Player can get stuck in a much stuckier way than anywhere else in the game. 

Because, like, for basically any other character in the game, being killed is the Worst Thing that could ever happen to them. For everyone except the actual Player Character because we are an Actual Unkillable Time God and dying is nothing more than a minor annoyance that sets you back to your last SAVE Point. So, leaving aside Papyrus’ admirably kind intentions - there is not much material difference from the Player’s perspective between getting Captured and getting a more traditional GAME OVER. Except…

Except getting Captured does not undo everything that happened in your inventory during the battle. In every other Undertale battle, if you use all of your items but still lose - the GAME OVER at least means you get your stuff back. But because Papyrus doesn’t kill you, any healing item you’ve used during the battle is still used. I have watched so many Undertale Let’s Players waste all of their valuable items on their first Papyrus battle and then have to face him again without them and thus do even worse in their second go… and then their third go... and thankfully then Papyrus offers them to skip the fight.

And while that technically can be circumvented by just manually closing the game and opening it back again on their pre-battle SAVE Point, a lot of players are gonna reflexively Save over it if they pop over to the Shop or the Snowed Inn before their second attempt at the battle. If Papyrus didn’t offer that chance to skip his battle, it could’ve easily become a softlock situation for a huge chunk of players - because he doesn’t kill the Player.

Most of Undertale deals with the value of non-violence from a standpoint of morality and kindness and personal connections. Since most people do die when they get killed. But when dealing with an Unkillable Time God like the Player, Papyrus proves that not-killing might actually be the most practical solution.

Of course, it doesn’t seem like Papyrus is aware of any of this. From his perspective, he is just offering genuine mercy to a being just as ephemeral as he is. But it accidentally turned into one of the most effective methods of blocking the Player’s way… at least he didn’t offer us an opt out so soon after that. 

And it’s interesting when comparing him to how his brother Sans - one of the few people actually aware of the existence of SAVEs and RESETs - deals with the Player. Because the Sans boss battle at the end of the Murder Route is entirely based on the concept that death is nothing but an annoyance to the Player. Sans is less trying to kill the Player (the way Undyne the Undying did), he is simply trying to annoy the Player into a ragequit. But he is still killing the Player.

Now imagine a Sans battle where he has all of his usual annoying tricks, but also instead of killing you - he captures you just like his brother would’ve in a happier timeline. And while it’s not a fool-proof plan to stop the Player in their tracks - he could very easily stick them in that sort of softlock situation where they have to battle him again and again without any Healing Items. Forcing them to either abandon the game or RESET the whole world back the way it was - just like Sans wants them too. 

But instead, by killing the Player, he is just allowing that perfect second-third-fourth-fifth-sixth-try where they get all of their Stuff back. And he does actually knows that. And why doesn’t he do that? (Speaking here from an in-universe character study perspective. Obviously the Doylist answer is that the game doesn’t want to Softlock you even in the most deliberately-frustrating part of the game).

Maybe, even though he intellectually knows that killing the Player will be of no help - he still does it because he wants to. Because he just wants to get back at the evil murderous monster that took his brother from him and destroyed his entire world even if he knows it’s actually ineffective. And this thirst for bloodshed is, ironically, blinding him from a new exciting way to actually practically stop that murderous bastard who is themself motivated entirely by bloodshed. 

Maybe he just can’t do something like that. Reducing an enemy to exactly one HP and then stopping is not a feat anyone else in the game is capable of pulling off - even the ones who would obviously use such a thing (like Toriel or a Player with a Pacifist intentions). Maybe it’s something that requires a lot of hard practice and discipline and carefulness, that Sans never thought to put in because he didn’t see it as a useful skill the way Papyrus did. 

Maybe that wouldn’t have worked anyways. After all, and that’s something I kinda touched on in a previous Overly Long Rambly Hot Take - Sans’ War of Attrition against the Player is greatly helped by the fact he can’t remember every single previous try and so he can’t get exhausted the way the Player can get. Obviously, without a GAME OVER induced RESET that will not apply. Which is especially notable because… Sans’ laziness is literally what brings him down at the end of that Boss Battle. 

So maybe, while Papyrus, as long as you decline his offer to skip the battle, is capable of offering just the same Battle as before over and over and over again.... It’s possible that Sans just won’t be able to pull off two or three or more battles of the same intensity and difficulty in a row without a RESET to undo his own exhaustion. 

But I think it’s at least worth considering the option, y’know? That after all this time of viewing Papyrus’ kindness as sweet-and-yet-kinda-foolish-naïveté - that exact viewpoint made Sans overlook the perfect solution to dealing with his little Murderous Time God problem. Cause he just never considered that while killing might be fully morally justifiable in this situation and very very satisfying, that does not necessarily mean it is actually the most practical solution. And that maybe, in a weirdly twisted way, Pacifism WAS the answer.  

#undertale #ut #utdr #under tale #papyrus #the great papyrus #papyrus undertale #papyrus ut #sans #sans undertale #sans ut #sans the skeleton #papyrus the skeleton #undertale analysis #undertale meta #genocide route #genocide run

[frogchiro]

Cowboy Casanova

Day 2 entry!! Yay! Today we have our favorite american slasher, Graves! I hope you enjoy reading♡

Warnings: nsfw, mentions of blood, death and a tiny bit of gore but not too much, it's slasher Graves, general pervy, creepy behavior and just kinda toxic and obsessive Graves, stalking

Philip Graves is a particular man. Coming from an extremely rich and privileged background, basically from the beginning he had or would get everything he would ever want. When he wanted his very own horse at 8? His papa got him one from the best breeder. He wanted a fancy pick up truck at 16 to show off to his peers the moment he got his license? His parents gave him the keys with a smile. He wanted to bang a girl when he was in college? Here she was, hopping on his dick an hour later.

But the thing about Philip Graves was that he's a very jealous and possessive man. He might be called a spoiled brat born with a silver spoon in his mouth but he jealously covets and protects what he cherishes; the gifted horse had the best everything it could ever want and it peacefully died of old age, the pick up truck was thoroughly loved and taken care of and is still in his garage used for recreational rides, as for the girlfriend? Well...yeah sure he dumped her like a week after but at least he snatched her right from under some shit-for-brains rugby player.

But as years passed by nothing seemed to excite him anymore, sure he had his fun in many ways, even picked up a new hobby or two, but even the screams and begging of his victims didn't do the trick anymore. Now that he's pushing 40, Philip's mind starts to wander to places he never thought it would; a pretty floral sundress or skirt moving around his home, a sweet smile and soft eyes greeting him when he gets home from wrangling his ranch, the delicious smell of a nutricious, fatty dinner wafting through the kitchen and the pitter patter of tiny feet clumsily running towards him, a flash of a tiny pink dress jumping at him. A family. Something Philip never thought about in his youth but he guesses the 'biological clock' wasn't complete bullshit as he thought. The problem was that no one really interested him, no one made his heart squeeze and his cock stir to make them the candidate for Philip's wife and those certainly weren't the women in town. No, it had to be someone perfect, a perfect wife, mother, partner for life but there was no one...

Well... his problem solved itself quicker than he thought with your arrival in town. A sweet looking young thing, you looked just about 20 and like a frightened doe when he first saw you get out of the bus one evening with just a measly backpack and a suitcase, not nearly enough to be moving in here but later when he did his own research and asked the local sheriff after you he found out you were apparently staying here and Philip would be lying if he said that his cock didn't pulse in his jeans with happiness.

He didn't believe in love at first sight, fuck no, that was some bullshit in those terrible romantic comedies and such, he didn't have time for this but with you? The blonde man knew you would be trouble with your big, doe eyes, soft body and those broad hips he was sure would carry a baby for him, his baby...

He found put that you were renting a room in old Margery's home in exchange for working in her orchard and helping her around her little farm. Pff, if he had it his way, if only you came to him for help, you wouldn't ever have to lift a finger again, just be sweet and nice and cook him dinner buuut well, here you are.

You may ask, how did he find out all these things about you? Well the thing about Philip is that he's very persistent and once he sets his sight on something, he will get it even if he has to resolve to some...unethical methods like stalking although he'd rather call it 'gathering information for good, future use' which leads you now to the present where the blonde man is hiding behind some bushes and trees to look at you getting ready for bed.

He still can't believe his luck, your room is on the upper floor facing the dark orchard where especially at night like now, Philip can go undetected and he takes full advantage of it. He watches you undress from your pretty pastel sundress, your tits and soft tummy on show, not to mention your hips and thighs.

"Ohh you're just asking for it darlin', ain't ya?" Philip growled lowly to himself as he watched you slip into a nightgown, a modest thing but still pretty plus it showed off a lot of your cleavage and Graves licked his lips before biting his lip at the thought of suckling your cute nipples, marking up your tits so that everyone would know that you're his-but what is that? What are you doing, you little songbird?

Philip's train of thoughts was abruptly cut short when he saw you dimming your lights and slipping a hand under your nightgown, the other one slipping off the shoulder strap down and starting to finger at your nipple. From this distance and due to the darkness around he couldn't see well but he saw your brows draw in tight, your pretty lips falling open to gasp as your fingers worked probably on your clit.

"You little fuckin' tease..." came growled from Philip, his teeth gnashing at the display, a sudden weave of possessiveness washing over him. Suddenly he's jealous of everything, even your bed and nightgown that they get to witness your pleasure and not him. Not your future husband and father of your babies, it doesn't matter that you haven't formally met yet, he will make sure you will soon.

For now though he needs to retreat, go back to his huge but lonely and quiet house and jerk off until his cock is red and raw, balls empty and his belly and chest splattered with his sperm that he grumbles should be inside you but he has to make do for now.

Just you wait little love, soon you will be by his side and then no one will even think of coming between you♡

#kin speaks #kin's kinktober #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

[morganbritton132]

Omg ok so my sisters used to play soccer and one of the moms had a cowbell. This woman would ring the bell every time the team got a goal. And now like 20 years later our mother was talking to someone about how my sisters used to do the local soccer thing and the other person was like “omg do you remember the cowbell lady? That team was so good but dear lord that cowbell was annoying!”……..I can picture Eddie getting a cowbell

Absolutely yes. No notes. Eddie definitely does this.

Steve kinda dooms himself to it because they played a scrimmage against a team that brought their own cheerleaders. Eddie prides himself on a level of dramatism that is not going to let that slide so he asks.

He did ask if he could be Steve’s cheerleader.

Steve, who melts every time Eddie takes an interest in one of his hobbies, does not think of the consequences when he says, “You’re already my cheerleader, but sure.”

If Steve thought about it for a little bit than he would probably think that Eddie was going to show up at the game in an actual cheerleading uniform, but he didn’t think about it. He actually forgot about the entire conversation until the next weekend when Eddie tries to get into the car with an electric guitar.

Steve stops him, “What are you doing?”

“Uh, cheerleading?”

“Where would you even plug that in at?”

“Oh, you’re right,” Eddie considers and then darts back into the house. He returns a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar, but Steve gives him a look that says very clearly ‘absolutely not.’ Eddie strums the guitar anyways and says, “I love you, bitch. I ain’t never gonna stop-“

“Eddie, we’re going to be late!”

So, he didn’t do anything that weekend other than come up with some on-the-fly cheers with another player’s girlfriend and agree to design them shirts. Nancy did say that if he tried to start a wave in the crowd that she would divorce him. From the land of the living.

He thinks she means it too.

Eddie’s already picked out the cowbell by the time next weekend rolls around. They’re playing against a group from the nearby methodist church and the only thing that Steve requests is that Eddie stays off his soapbox about organized religion. He says nothing about cowbells.

Nancy isn’t even aware that he has it until he whips it out after the first goal and starts ringing it. The whole field stops moving and just stares at him for a second, which is great. Eddie loves an audience.

Steve looks fucking delighted, too.

It is rather unfortunate that the team they’re playing against sucks major ass and they score more goals than they have in any other game because that cowbell rings with enthusiasm every single time. Except for the last goal because when Eddie went to reach for the bell, Ozzy put his paw over his hand to tell him to stop.

It doesn’t matter though because Steve runs over to him as soon as the game ends, all smiles and kisses. It’s painfully and sickeningly sweet when he tells him, “Best cheerleader I’ve ever had.”

Steve kisses him again and tells him, “Never do it again though.”

#Eddie does it again #except now they have a game they play before the game where Steve tries to find the cowbell before they leave #he is dumbfounded when he removes two from the car and yet somehow Eddie still has one come game time #(Nancy brought it for him because she thinks it’s funny) #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[mins-fins]

orbit of yours !

"power couple, really?" "you have to listen to me!"

synopsis: park jisung has always admired you. hardworking, effortlessly beautiful, talented, humble— you're pretty much the personification of the word 'perfect' (you would disagree though), but your relationship has never gotten past "admirers that occasionally exchange words", so jisung has vanquished the idea of possibly being in love with you because of your lack of interactions, he's just an avid admirer of yours! so when a few accidents and mishaps force (more like drive) the two of you to be in the same room more than you ever had in the past, the idea doesn't just remain a random fantasy crafted by jisung's mind, it becomes reality.

pairing: park jisung x male!reader

genre: high school au, acquaintances to friends to lovers, photographer!reader x soccer player!jisung, fluff, kinda comedy (im not funny), mutual pining, literally no angst, fast burn lowkey, sungchan helps reader realize his feelings and it's hilarious

warnings: swearing, mentions of burnout, oblivious bitches deny their feelings for a good 10k words, this is fucking cheesy, the nightmare which is senior year

word count: 12.2k

notes: GOOD LORD IT IS FINALLY DONE! i don't wanna be overdramatic or anything but this is genuinely one of my most favorite works ever, if you couldn't tell i am VERY jisung biased and im so happy to finally be done with this because it's honestly been so fun to write 🙁 i didn't beat the xiaojun fic in terms of words but this the second longest fic i have ever written and for my jisung debut its impressive that there is absolutely NO ANGST here, i'm just very proud of myself for this and i hope people like reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.. this is for all the park jisung lovers 👍

"WHEN WILL YOU ACTUALLY GET A PARTNER?" chenle asks the question so many times that jisung assumes the sentence has been programmed into his brain. what is it— like the 3rd time this week? he thinks chenle might be more obsessed with his love life than he is with actual important things, like college, graduation preparations, his role as a member of the student council, anything but jisung's uneventful love life, because that was probably the least interesting thing going on in his own life at the moment. "come on jisungie! i heard aejung has a crush on you!" he lets out a familiar groan, giving his friends a 'cut it out' look. "i don't really care about that kind of stuff.."

he hears all the frustrated sighs from his friends, and jisung just chuckles. he knows about the many surprisingly many— people who find themselves attracted to him. he acknowledges the fact that he has a lot of admirers, that a lot of people would perceive themselves as lucky to be in a relationship with him, he isn't new to the idea at all, he doesn't really get what makes him so attractive, such an eyeopener to his fellow students, but he mostly accepts the gifts given to him by his so called "admirers" nonetheless, not wanting to make them disappointed.

now, he says mostly because there are just times where he has no choice but to turn them down. some people get into their own heads too much, and he doesn't want to give some of them false hopes by accepting their gifts. that happened once, where a girl thought the two of them were dating because he decided to accept her gift as a sign of appreciation, that's when jisung learned that he couldn't just accept any and all gifts given to him by admirers who so greatly wanted a chance with him. jisung isn't so concerned about gifts, he wants a person who will be psychically and emotionally present for him, not someone who'll just buy him random things.

"it's gotten a little annoying.. all the confessions" jisung mutters, closing the textbook he had been jotting in. "they're nice yeah but some people just take it too far" he finally finishes, earning some confused looks from his friends. he just shrugs, shoving the textbook he had previously been jotting in into his backpack.

"but you're just so boring!" chenle whines, pressing his cheek against jisung's shoulder. jisung doesn't even try shaking him off, knowing that any of his attempts will be useless. "come on! all these people who would love to be with you and your still a lonely little loser!"

"loser? oh come on!"

"you know i'm right!"

jisung scoffs, lightly shoving chenle. while yeah, it's nice to have a lot of people admire him, everyone expects him to do this and that and act a certain way. it's like they enjoy perpetuating a false image onto him rather than actually admiring him for who he really is, and jisung doesn't think he should give people like that the time of day, they piss him off more than anything.

he's a little lost in his thought when a familiar voice sounds in his ears, a couple of giggles following the sound. "you're too funny y/n!" one of them shouted, poking a familiar figure in the shoulder, and jisung's eyes fall on you immediately, as if on instinct. you were looking as you always did, a familiar dslr camera hanging from your neck, that polite smile on your face as your friend continues poking your shoulder.

lately, you'd been quite the topic of interest among your fellow schoolmates. now that's not abnormal at all, you somehow always manage to be the talk of the town in school, you could do the smallest thing and somehow people could still make huge talk about it.

jisung would never say it, not out loud or even in mutters to himself, but he's always held a unique admiration for you, one he doesn't think he could actually put into words. there's something about you that pulls jisung in, like your a magnet and he's an oblivious piece of metal, slowly getting closer and closer to you without being able to do anything about it.

everything about you is beautiful. your eyes are a beautiful brown color, your smile is a beautiful stretch that shows off your perfect white teeth, your hair is a beautiful mix of raven and brunette. oh, and your voice is so beautiful too, it's so soft, gentle, but also deep.

you're like an angel.

at least to jisung you are.

it's pretty funny, actually, your so wrapped up in your own things that you barely notice the sheer amount of people who want to date you. you don't acknowledge romantic advances a lot, and even when you do, it always ends in rejection. you talk a lot, and your words are always pure and witty, your laughter is natural, your smile is contagious.

but.. jisung doesn't like you. he only likes you in the friend kinda way, he just wants to be friends with you. you look nice! smell nice, dress nice, speak nice..

jisung knows a lot more about you than his friends do. despite the fact that the two of you have never officially deemed yourselves "friends", he's always known little facts about you, as you him. the two of you have been going to school together for seven years, so the idea of not knowing anything about each other seems ridiculous.

you're a photographer, your favorite color is blue, specifically lighter shades, your favorite subject is history, your lucky number is 2 because of your birthdate being 02/02/02, your favorite flowers are daisies, you don't really enjoy sports, but if you were to choose one to play, it'd be baseball, and you want to go to college for journalism.

but jisung can't say that he likes you, because even if you two know all these things about each other, you've never considered yourselves "friends", all you do is admire from afar—

and when you do interact, it's just short and sweet sentences exchanged between you two, mostly because the both of you are so busy, that you can't afford to just stop and talk. sometimes, jisung wishes his life was just a little less hectic and he could stop and talk to you, because that's what he wants to do.

"what's with you?" jisung immediately yelps as chenle flicks his forehead, and he resists the urge to punch the older in the face. "gawking at y/n? really?"

"i'm not—" jisung hates that he feels his face burn. "i'm not gawking, i'm just.. i was just looking at him".

"looking at him with hearts in your eyes".

jisung scoffs at chenle's audacity, as if he wasn't doing exactly that a good few minutes ago. he would never admit it out loud before, so why should he admit it now? he'd never live it down if anybody ever found out..

"you know.." chenle begins, tapping his finger onto the desk in front of him. "you two would be a great couple" and the words are enough to make jisung roll his eyes once again. "a power couple!"

"power couple, really?" jisung raises an eyebrow, chenle never fails to say something that confuses him. he finds the words to be ridiculous, but his reaction just seems to make chenle even more giddy, because he continues;

"you have to listen to me!" chenle persists, and jisung is about to check out of the conversation completely.

"y/n is a photographer for sports journalism, you play soccer, you've known each for what.. ever? he's pretty, you clearly have the hots for him—"

"i do not!" jisung immediately yells in rebuttal, much louder than he wanted to. "yeah he's.. cute but anyone with eyes can see that, i'm not in love with him or anything".

chenle raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but jisung remains stubborn, crossing his arms as he averts his gaze from his best friend.

yes, you are cute, anybody with two functioning eyes can see that.

"i think park jisung might have a crush on you".

at the words, you look up from your camera, meeting eyes with your close friend, sungchan. you blink, as if dumbfounded, then snicker. "park jisung? are you trying to boost my ego or something?"

you know park jisung, you know about how probably half the students in this room dream of having a chance with him. so many people like park jisung, so many people want park jisung.

and if you think about it, you can't exactly blame them for that..

"don't laugh! i'm serious! he looked like he was about to devour you, did you see his eyes!?"

the words just get another laugh out of you, the words seem ridiculous in your eyes, because why would park jisung, beautiful, talented, striking park jisung have a crush on you? in your eyes, your pretty much nothing to him.

"okay.. why would park jisung ever be interested in me?" you ask, rearranging your camera as you raise an eyebrow at sungchan, who simply deadpans at you, that familiar 'are you serious?' look in his eyes.

"okay let me see, your smart, pretty, everyone likes you at this point, also— the two of you are pretty much perfect for each other! you'd be a power couple!"

you furrow your eyebrows, a power couple? you'd never heard that phrase used to talk about somebody your friends had been "shipping" you with, your not even sure if you can even consider yourself friends with jisung, because the two of you can never actually talk to each other without someone coming up and interrupting the interaction.

you'd love to just be able to talk to park jisung, just the two of you, one on one.

"power couple? that's funny.."

"you think everything is funny" ironically, you laugh at your friends words. "this could be like— your only chance at having an actual romantic connection with someone".

"i don't care that much about romance, chan" you muse, humming as you turn off your camera. your eyes wander over to jisung, who is very much distracted by something stupid chenle is saying, he's laughing about something, laughing hard too.

there is no reason for him to look so pretty as he laughs like a maniac..

he's cute, you say in your mind, he is absolutely adorable.

"WHAT DID YOU GUYS GET ON THAT STATISTICS TEST FOR SONG?" a boy from the same year and member of the soccer team along with jisung inquired. they sat on the bleachers in front of field, watching as the baton club practices. they have to practice this week, unfortunately, so jisung's schedule had become tight and packed, he barely had any free time these days, it was all exams, college tours, last minute extracurriculars, and practice, practice, practice. "i got a b plus" one of his classmates responds, the other responded; "i got a b on mine". jisung was very far removed from the current conversation, his eyes on a familiar trio of sports journalists on the other side of the field, a trio which included you, mesmerizing you. he sees you often these days, with that same dslr camera around your neck, a pretty smile stuck on your face.

"you, jisung! what score did you get?" one of his classmates asks, but jisung was occupied, so he didn't answer. a tap on his shoulder makes jisung snap out of his staring fit, and he blinks a few times, assessing where he is. "what?"

"we were asking about the marks on the recent statistics test!"

"ah" jisung presses his lips together. "i got an a plus" he says the words casually, but it causes for a cheer to be sounded by his fellow classmates, who shook him and slapped his back supportively.

"you're so smart jisungie!"

the praise from his classmates get a smile out of jisung, but he isn't focusing on that, his attention is on you. even with how your across the field, he can clearly see all of your features, the sun shining on your face makes you look majestic, like an actual angel, jisung isn't sure why he's even focusing so much on your face, but he can't focus on anything else, because his eyes just naturally always wander over to you.

"will this ever finish?" you inquire, pertaining to the baton club, who were still on the field even after they were supposed to get off. "i'm supposed to take photos of the soccer players for my editorials.." you mutter, it'd be horrible if you couldn't even deliver on the promise you made to your superiors.

"they're probably going to split the field" your fellow sports journalist, taehyun says. a small groan escapes your lips, you're annoyed, you hope this doesn't interfere with the photos you have to take, it'd be horrible if you just ended up doing the same thing all over again. "see? baton club is taking one side and the soccer team takes the main area because they need to start practicing now".

"they look so cute! i've always wanted to be apart of the soccer team!" lee sohee exclaims, and you turn towards him, a look of interest on your face. he attentively watches the boys, humming to the song that's playing. "why didn't you join them then?" you inquire, interest peaked.

sohee smiles at you, readjusting his camera and fixing his posture. "i enjoyed writing the editorial articles more" he shrugs. "wanted to try out but i missed the tryouts because eunseok hyung would have killed me if i missed anton's recital" at the words, you laugh, used to the behavior from the older boy.

"maybe next year".

"you'd fit in perfectly!" taehyun muses, and sohee brightens up, seemingly loving the words.

"really!? that's what seunghan tells me too!" he cheers at the words, looking proud of himself. "i'd look cute in that uniform though.."

you chuckle at sohee's word, finding him to be absolutely adorable. "yeah, you definitely would" you ruffle his hair, smiling at the giggle which sounds from the boy.

"i'm gonna go get a closer look at them" you say, motioning towards the soccer team. taehyun nods and watches as you get closer to the field, not super close, but close enough that your camera can capture a good view of the soccer team. you narrow your eyes, pointing your camera at the busy boys who are doing their usual routine, the viewfinder shows jisung in all his glory.

you take pictures, zooming in and out. you don't mean to put all the focus on jisung, he's just too alluring to not be the center of attention. he's such a natural, he's just so amazing, you can't not focus on him.

[click.]

and another shot, another one as jisung scores the goal. jisung's posture was perfect, his back straight, chin high as he wore an angelic smile. jisung hears the clicking of the camera, and looks to his left to see you, in the viewfinder you see jisung looking in your direction, you pause for a moment and notice a baton heading straight towards him.

"jisung watch out!" you yell, at the words, he tilts his head.

you quickly take the strap of the camera off your neck, throwing it until it landed right beside your fellow journalists, who looked as confused as jisung did. you ran as fast as you could, grabbing jisung's wrist and pulling him close to you.

the baton managed to hit the ground instead, and jisung shrieks as he loses his balance, toppling forward. he quickly grabs onto the closest thing to him.

you.

you lowered your arms to catch jisung, and you feel him hold onto the sleeves of your blazer, one of your arms on his stomach, the other on his waist. all his weight was in your arms, causing for you to lose balance too.

"shit—" you swear, falling onto your back. jisung fell on top of you, the grass tickling his skin. your back immediately hits the grass, and your head hits the ground softly, but your arms remain around jisung. jisung's hands were still on your arms, his upper body laid on top of yours, his head was buried into your shoulder, and he was sat in between your legs.

jisung takes a sharp breath, a look of worry quickly flashes in his eyes as he sees you. "holy shit y/n are you okay!?" jisung asks, pulling away from your prior position and you sit up, opening your eyes to meet his worried ones. jisung kneels, leaning closer to you as he cups your cheeks with his hands. "did you get hurt? is your head okay!?" he asks, or yells, turning your head to inspect for any signs of wounds. you just stare at him, his bangs that messily lay against his forehead, his eyes that glimmered under the sunlight, and his pink lips that you totally just want to lean over and touch with your own.

"yeah.." you whisper, your cheeks squished from the force of jisung's hands.

jisung stops turning your head and sighs. "are you sure?" he asks, still holding your face. you nod, placing one of your hands on jisung's, his are soft, yours are rough, you note. you move his hand and smile. "i'm alright don't worry" you respond, still holding jisung's hand. jisung pursues his lips, and he extends his hand out, pulling you up from the ground. you let go of his hand, dusting off your pants.

"jesus y/n" taehyun's voice sounds from behind you, and you finally glance away from jisung, eyes focused on your friend. "are you okay? your not injured are you?"

"i'm fine.." you mumble again, blinking as taehyun suddenly hands you your camera. ah, he'd picked it up for you. you take it, inspecting it to make sure it's not broken.

"is the camera okay?" jisung inquires, looking over your shoulder to stare at it.

luckily, it wasn't damaged because it had fallen on the soft grass. "it's still working" you respond, and the two boys beside you let out a sigh of relief, with taehyun placing a hand on his chest.

"jisung! come back here!" his coach quickly yells, jisung looks to you, then back to his teammates. "thanks, i owe you" he says before running back towards his group, fetching the soccer ball he'd left on the ground prior.

"wow your like a hero!" sohee exclaims, shaking your shoulder with a smile. you just let out a nervous laugh, scratching your arm. you give one last glance at jisung before you feel your face heat up excessively, so you quickly turn away, putting your camera back around your neck.

"we should go back in now" you say, you don't say any more words as you quickly make your way towards the doors. your friends blink, exchanging glances in confusion, but they quickly follow you back inside.

"y/n! wait up!"

jisung watches you three leave, feeling his heart racing against his chest.

what the hell just happened? he asks himself.

"jisung are you okay!?" a very familiar voice shrieks. jisung turns to meet his fellow teammate jooyeon, looking concerned as ever.

"i'm alright, thanks for asking" he answers, gaze lowering down to his nails, which he quickly starts picking.

"are you sure? you looked like you hit your head pretty hard" the younger boy, as always, just wants to make sure jisung isn't lying, he's genuine like that. he pokes jisung's forehead, as if he was inspecting him.

"seriously, i'm fine" jisung lowers his hand, giving him his default 'i'm okay' smile. "y/n cushioned the blow anyway.."

"you were so close to him!" jisung startles as keum donghyun comes out of nowhere. "how did it feel? was it like a dream come true?"

"i—" jisung is speechless, he closes his mouth and blinks a good seven times before even actually assessing the question.

how did it feel?

jisung doesn't know how to express it. he didn't want to think about it in that way because you'd just done such a good deed, you saved him from flying metal going straight towards his head, he shouldn't have been thinking about the lack of distance between you two, he shouldn't have been staring at your lips, and he shouldn't have been thinking about kissing you.

his face must be so unbearably red right now.

"don't ask that! it was just very abrupt.. also, i can't think of him like that! he saved me from a flying baton, i'm just grateful for him".

jooyeon hums in agreement, slapping donghyun's shoulder for him ever asking such a thing. "that's right, you should probably get him a token of appreciation or something".

jisung blinks, trying to imagine what he should ever gift you. he truly has no idea, he's not sure if he should go over and beyond, or just give you a little gift as to not intimidate you. "i can't really think of anything, i don't want to overwhelm him or something, he just wanted to do a nice thing.."

"i'm sure he'll be appreciative of anything!"

at the words, jisung just sighs, smiling.

what a hero, l/n y/n— you really are something, he thinks.

"yeah— i'll think about it".

"good! back to practice now!"

jisung doesn't think he will ever fully be able to focus on practice, though.

"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN RAN OVER BY A TRAIN" the words from the older boy, yang jeongin, snap you out of your polaroid staring daze. you flinch just the slightest, eyes peeling away from the scattering pictures which litter your desk. you rub your eyes, clearing your throat as you quickly gather all of the photos on your desk, hoping the eye bags present on your face weren't completely obvious. knowing jeongin though, they were definitely obvious. "thanks for the kind words" you respond sarcastically, a small eye roll accompanying your words. the older boy snickers, situating himself beside you, a teasing smile on his face. he props his legs up, blinking at you. "seriously though, you look like you haven't slept in years, are you alright?"

"i'm as alright as someone looking to pursue journalism can be.." you mutter back, placing the photos which were previously on your desk into your backup, a small sigh escapes your lips. "all of my applications are still pending.."

"seriously? i assume you would've been accepted into any of those schools by now!"

"you know how it all goes, they get hundreds— heck, thousands of applications every day, i just have to be patient".

jeongin raises an eyebrow, then just shrugs at you, humming. "there's no need to worry, y/n, you'll get into a good school".

you chuckle at his words, he totally read your mind when it came to that. "i'm not worried about anything" you lie; "i'll be okay, i know".

but do you?

your absolutely tired the whole entire day, you tried your best to focus in your classes, but you couldn't help your head slipping down and the way you almost slipped off to dreamland whilst your teachers were asking you very much audible questions.

"did you sleep last night?" sungchan asks you in the middle of your afternoon break, poking your arm as if to wake up. "you look like a zombie.."

"i slept a few.. hours?" your tone is very much a questioning one, as if you didn't even believe your own words. "i don't know, i was too busy fighting with lin, apparently i'm not good enough at what i do to consider journalism".

paired with the lack of response to your several applications, you weren't having the best week, it was all becoming just a little too much for you.

graduation is just too far away..

"anyway! did you choose the photos you'll put in the editorial yet?"

you think, for a while. you felt as if you had stared at so many polaroids by this point, that they're probably going to start appearing in your dreams, with the lack of sleep, constant flashing of cameras and just news news news, you've really had no time to focus on other things.

"i haven't even found time to think about the editorial" you whine, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you think about how pissed off your higher up is gonna be if you almost miss the deadline once again. "is the deadline coming up?"

"well— is four days a close deadline for you?"

you gasp, loudly, almost throwing your camera across the hallway. "four days!? four days until the deadline seriously!?"

you usually aren't like this. you are usually very calm, cool, and collected, but your week has been just the definition of a shit storm, and everything just seems getting worse and worse.

"hey, it's okay!" sungchan immediately replies, hoping to reassure you. he places a hand on your shoulder, a smile coming to his face. "it's not like this is anything new, it'll all be fine, you only have to choose two pictures anyway".

you sigh, rubbing your temples. "yeah" you breath. "it'll be fine, fine" you repeat, nodding your head as you relax yourself.

the hallway is crowded, not crowded crowded, but crowded enough that you couldn't help but begin counting the heads around you.

your eyes get stuck on a familiar figure across the hall.

park jisung, smiling and laughing with his friends. you get lost in a trance of admiring him, even though you can clearly hear sungchan talking to you. all your attention is immediately on him, and a small smile spreads across your face as you observe him, being himself.

there is absolutely no reason for him to be so breathtaking while just talking with his friend!

you are so distracted, and you don't mean to get stuck in this little reverie as you stare at the boy that you totally do not have a crush on.

he hasn't really left your mind, instead of just floating around in there like he'd been before that whole prior incident, now he occupies a whole subsection of your mind in recent days. you could be with your other friends, and all of a sudden your mind would wander off to jisung, or you could be in class and he just pops into your head.

you never thought you'd be one to get distracted easily, but you've clearly been proven wrong by just the alluring aura of park jisung.

you startle when jisung turns your way, making eye contact with you. he smiles upon noticing you, his eyes practically lighting up, and he waves at you. your a little taken aback, but jisung doesn't wait to see you wave back, just turning back towards his friend and continuing his previous conversation.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

you quickly look over at sungchan, who had just witnessed that whole entire scene. he looks at you like you just grew a second head, and your face begins to burn as the realization dawns on you.

"you and park jisung!?"

your quick to try and sputter out a response, but you shake your head, face excessively heating up, it's probably red at this very moment. "there is nothing going on between us!"

"that doesn't seem like nothing!"

you realize how guilty you look right now. with your red face and constant insistence that there is absolutely nothing going on, those are traits the guiltiest of people display, and it all just makes you look even more guilty with how your face gets even more red.

(you must look like you're dying right now).

"it's just a friendly exchange!"

"not while your looking at him with hearts in your eyes!"

he was completely calling you out, and he was right. you were staring at jisung like he was an angel that had graced your presence, you stare at him like he's a saint and everyone else doesn't matter, as if he's the only person in the room. "i— i wasn't! i was just zoned out and he just waved at me to say hi!"

sungchan narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, totally not buying it. "uh huh, sure" his voice conveys disbelief. "just know, i'm onto you y/n".

you nudge him in the shoulder, seriously wanting to change the topic. "yeah yeah whatever" you cross your arms as you mutter the words, you're sure if you take one more glance at jisung, you won't be able to look away, so you just clear your throat and walk the other way, face still red as sungchan teases you the whole entire time.

maybe if you glanced back, you'd see jisung watching as you left..

JISUNG WAS REALLY HOPING HE'D BE ABLE TO catch you before school dismissed. you two haven't genuinely had an actual talk since you saved him from the flying baton heading straight towards his head. all you two have done is give smiles, waves, and mutter small greetings to each other in the hallway. he had to admit, it upset him in just the slightest, because he really did want to just have a conversation with you (of course, he isn't exactly sure he'd be able to get through a conversation with you without blushing like a madman anyway), but your schedules just kept conflicting, so even catching a glimpse of you around the campus has become difficult for him to do.

he doesn't want to waste any opportunity he has in his hands—

"y/n!"

when jisung sees you across the hall, he realizes that he shouldn't take this chance for granted. you turn around at the call of your name, smiling as you see the others making his way towards you. jisung runs a hand through his hair, hoping he isn't making anything awkward. "jisung hi, do you need something?"

you smile politely at him, a smile so beautiful it seems like it could get rid of all the problems in the world. jisung loves your smile, he could stare at it for hours, is that creepy? he hopes it's not creepy..

"oh uh—" the words he'd been planning to say somehow get caught in his throat, but he clears his throat and proceeds. "i was wondering if i could walk you home?"

you blink, puzzled by the question. why would he want to walk you home? your mind begins to wander, trying to figure out why he'd want to do such a thing.

can't you just ask y/n? stop being an idiot..

"why?"

you don't mean for your words to come out that way, and you're almost afraid that you made jisung uncomfortable with your tone of voice, but he instead just smiles, squashing any of your bad thoughts. you love jisung's smile, you think it's underrated, so little people talk about it and the fact shocks you, you could probably compliment his smile for hours—

but that sounds just a little creepy.

"i just want to accompany you—" —and this is my only excuse to be around you— "do something nice for you after you did something nice for me".

the words make you pause. he's just.. so thoughtful huh? you've never heard of someone wanting to repay you for being nice, it's actually a little strange if you think about it.

"jisung you don't have to reward me for doing something nice.."

"it'd be great to walk with you, though, you make good company".

that's it? that's really it?

you're not sure why you're surprised about that, maybe it's just the idea that he literally searched for you just to say this, he truly just wants to walk you home, he truly just wants to spend time with you.

he thinks i make good company, just the thought alone is enough to make you giggle in your head. your inner thoughts sound ridiculous, but you can't help them.

"if you don't want me to it's totally oka—"

"no no no" you immediately cut into his sentence, hoping that didn't come off as desperate as it sounded. "i'm glad you offered to walk me home, i'd love to walk with you too".

you unsuccessfully try to mutter those last few words, a sudden shyness taking over you. jisung smiles, glad, no, elated at your agreement. he doesn't know why he's that happy, but he hopes it isn't clear and evident, he'd never live it down.

after bidding a goodbye to your friends, and telling sungchan you'd make sure to choose the photos for your editorials, you dragged jisung out of the school doors, much to your and jisung's surprise, as well as the shock of a few of your classmates, he made sure to eye the both of you suspiciously.

"what interested you in photography?"

a scene like this is something jisung thought he'd never get to, being able to talk to you, one on one. just the two of you sharing a simple conversation is what he's wanted for an uncharted amount of time, even with how straightforward it is, the two of you could never really find time to converse normally.

when jisung asks the question, you almost think you heard him wrong. he genuinely wants to know? in a way, you feel like you've always been just the slightest bit boring, yeah you wanna do journalism and love taking aesthetically pleasing photos but you've never considered what you do to be a talent by any means.

you pick at your fingers, looking down at the ground instead of at jisung. "it's an interest i picked up from my mother, i've always been shocked how she could just do that, you know? i love videography and stuff like that as well, i love how one can capture so much with just a single camera".

your words intrigue jisung, and he listened the whole entire way, not interrupting you once. he found a smile crossing his face at the clear display of passion for your creative work, he loves the way you put it into words. god if he didn't admire you before, he surely did now.

"what about you? you're pretty much good at everything, what drew you to the adrenaline rushing excitement of soccer?"

jisung pauses, allowing himself to let out a small snicker at the question. "i don't really enjoy soccer".

you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"

jisung laughs again, your tone of voice amusing him. "don't say it like that.. it's not that i hate it, i'm just not as into it like everyone expects me to be, i got onto the school team and i've been stuck there ever since" there isn't exactly distaste in jisung's tone, he just states it casually, like how it is. his voice is just simple, mundane, he doesn't dislike soccer, it's just not what he's looking forward to do.

you love his honesty.

"i'm into other things in a much more passionate sense, like dance, soccer is just a hobby" he finally finishes, pulling his sleeves over his arms as he avoids eye contact with you.

"so no professional soccer player park jisung?"

"i think i'll leave it to the other guy to be known for that".

you chuckle at his words, okay, he's funny (you knew that already, you just had to reiterate it in your head). god how can a guy be so perfect? you get why people are so into jisung, he's charming even without trying. you feel like the luckiest guy on earth knowing he asked to walk you home.

"y/n, i'm a very.." jisung pauses, as if trying to articulate the words he was about to say. "i really admire you a lot".

you almost lose it.

park jisung, beautiful, talented, hardworking park jisung admires you? he is an admirer of yours? you don't even know what to say, you try your best to sputter out a response but your brain is practically malfunctioning. your face goes red, and you go silent for a few minutes.

"i don't get it" is what you say, and jisung just cocks his head towards the side, observing you. "what's so admirable about me?"

"do you want a list?"

oh i'd love that. "i don't think you should waste your time".

"i wouldn't be wasting my time" jisung smiles, his gaze focused on you and only you, there's a way he's looking at you that keeps you still, unable to look away from him. "i never get the chance to tell you, i'd love to talk about everything i admire about you".

when did jisung get so bold? he'll never know where this random confidence came from, but he has an opportunity, he can't let it go to waste. he has to bring it up to you.

"what i do is nothing incredible—"

"i would disagree".

you should be angry that jisung interrupted you, but you found yourself smiling at his words. he's so generous, he doesn't have to tell you this, he doesn't have to compliment you like this, but he's doing it on his own accord, he wants to.

"okay then.. is it a good time to tell you that i also feel the same?"

jisung's ears go red, so red that it looks like smoke is gonna start pouring out of them. he is shocked, absolutely speechless. you admire him? does that mean he's gotten it all wrong these past few years? does that mean you return his feelings as well—

wait what?

"oh really?"

the prior confidence jisung had when telling you about his admiration has now all fizzled away, his voice almost cracks as he tries to register your words, and thank god it doesn't.

"it's kind of like what you said, you're amazing, a very admirable person, i know you don't really think of yourself like that but i do, and it's nice to be able to tell you up front".

jisung remains silent, but you don't mind, you just give him a smile and continue walking forward, allowing for him to catch up to you.

"is that actually true?"

"why would i lie to you?" you turn around, your whole body facing him. you begin walking backwards and wait for jisung's reply to your question. "don't give me that look".

jisung frowns, a playful one, he sends you a cute little glare that makes you giggle. he's absolutely adorable, you think in your head, he's the cutest person ever right now.

"you admire me?"

"yep".

"more than i admire you?"

"definitely, and don't even try to argue with me".

jisung opens his mouth to do exactly that, but you stop, turning around as you make it to the front of your house. "okay well, thank you for walking me home, ji".

jisung raises an eyebrow, noting down the nickname in his head. it's a common nickname, but he loves the way it sounds coming from you, he loves that you didn't just drop his full name.

"it's no problem.."

"i—"

you're cut off by the sound of the door opening, and your met with the face of your mother, whose face immediately brightens at the sight of you. you smile at her, and jisung just kinda stands there awkwardly.

"hi honey" she wraps her arms around you, and you let her, leaning your head onto her shoulder. "i thought you were staying late today?"

you shake your head. "not today, it's friday remember?"

"ohhh, yeah".

jisung glances down at the ground, playing with his feet. he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't want to interrupt the conversation you're having with your mother—

but he doesn't have to say anything, because your mother pipes up.

"oh! and who might this be?" she narrows her eyes at jisung, cogs in her brain seem to turn but then she snaps his fingers and gasps, seemingly getting it. "oh my god! park jisung?"

jisung smiles, a little laugh escaping his lips. "that is me".

"holy, you've changed so much? the last time i saw you you were barely up to my knees!"

at the sound of your mothers words, you give jisung a teasing stare, one which he quickly turns away from. "you and y/n are finally friends? i was wondering when it'd happen.."

your face goes bright red at the words, and an awkward chuckle escapes your lips. "seems he was too, he always talked about it—"

"haha! what!? that's hilarious mom!" you quickly cut in, not wanting her to talk about your former ramblings about park jisung, park jisung who was right beside you. "yeah okay, jisung i'll see you monday?"

jisung nods, a little too desperately for his liking, luckily you don't notice. "yeah, monday, have a good weekend, y/n".

you smile, blood rushing through your cheeks. "be safe".

he gives a small wave and turns around, beginning the walk back towards his home.

"he's such a nice kid, you sure you're just friends?"

your jaw pretty much drops, and you give your mother a look you don't think you've ever shared with her before. "yes! just friends!"

"hmm, sure".

"WHO ARE THOSE FOR?" CHENLE asks as he immediately notices the goodies in jisung's hands. he raises an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend, examining the bouquet of flowers and box jisung held. jisung ignores him for a couple of minutes, placing the box in his locker and closing it behind him. "for someone" he just replies, hoping he could just remain vague instead of telling chenle about his true plans. the older narrows his eyes, clearly curious about this 'someone'. he flicks jisung in the forehead, resulting in a yelp from the other, who glares. "ow! what was that for?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing his forehead, a frown now coming to his face.

"what you're hiding stuff from me now?" chenle rolls his eyes at jisung's frown. "who are those flowers for? you got a boyfriend or something?"

chenle was right in assuming it was a boy that was making him go crazy, but you aren't his boyfriend (not yet at least, he's trying, really). he doesn't want to exactly divulge his plans to his nosy best friend yet, just because he'd go around telling everybody he could about what jisung was doing, he didn't want anything to be spoiled.

"they're for.. y/n".

jisung winces the moment he says those words, because chenle goes absolutely crazy.

"FOR WHO!?"

jisung is quick to slap a hand over chenle's mouth, glaring at him for how loud he said those words. "could you be any more obvious?" he asks, gritting his teeth as he continues to glare at his shorter best friend, whose eyes just widen even more. "yes they're for y/n—"

"what are you two dating now?" chenle doesn't care about anything jisung has to say, he slaps his hand away and stares in interest, wanting to know more.

"no! were not dating! it's just—" jisung pauses, how is he even gonna explain this without looking super guilty? blood rushes through his cheeks as he thinks about it, about how these are your favorite flowers, about how you might react. "i wanted to get him something nice! he did a good thing and.."

and i am just so in love with him, i think i might be going insane.

"i just want to do something nice!"

"okay but are you doing something nice or are you getting ready to ask him out?"

jisung's face goes a dangerously red color, and he immediately shakes his head, denial coursing through his veins. "i'm not going to ask him out, i mean— i get why you think that but it's not what it looks like!"

chenle raises an eyebrow, staring at his totally lovestruck best friend. "it sure does seem to be what it looks like".

"chenle—"

"look, jisung, there's no need to deny that you have such an obvious crush on y/n" chenle states like it's a matter of a fact, because it is, they both know it very well, he's better at assessing jisung's feelings than jisung himself is. "he thinks your cute, you think he's cute, you two just need to ask each other out".

"um.." jisung presses his lips together, the two falling into a weird silence. he clutches the daisies in his hands, thinking about you, but he shuts off his thoughts to respond to chenle's little analysis of him.

"i just don't know where we stand, i mean we're barely even friends".

"you two are pretty much already more than friends considering he can't talk to you without looking like he's about to devour you whole".

jisung's face must be an astonishing shade of red right now. "it's not—! i don't know how to explain it okay!?"

"yeah and how are you gonna explain the flowers?" chenle points at the daisies jisung is practically squeezing to death. "other people are probably gonna get another idea".

"well i'll let them think what they want" jisung responds, his only focus is you, who cares what other people think? your his main priority. "y/n is my main focus, i don't care about what other people are saying".

chenle chuckles at his response, oh park jisung is so down bad, he's so in love with you, a kind of love chenle has never seen him have for another person. yes park jisung, love avoiding extraordinaire, is head over heels in love with a boy, chenle cannot believe it.

"okay jisung, go ahead with your wooing y/n mission or something".

at least chenle is supportive.

jisung has to go through so many interrogations to explain to your fellow photographers why he's giving you flowers, while a few of them just shrug and get it, the rest of them make sure to eye him suspiciously while he goes on with his explanation and bright red ears.

he knows most of them probably won't keep their mouths shut, and jisung knows that you told him he shouldn't get you anything for preventing him from getting any future brain damage, but jisung disagrees, he thinks you deserve gifts.

"who are those for?"

your brain doesn't register the flowers, or the connection that they have with your not-so-secret admirer, you just stare at them puzzled. "they're for you!" sohee yells from somewhere else in the room, focused on another important thing.

your eyebrows furrow, and you blink as you stare at the daisies on the table. daisies are your favorite flowers, but everyone knows that! these could be from anyone! you're no stranger to getting random gifts from people, so these could really be from anyone.

but you only have a certain person in mind..

"from who?" you ask, but you really already know who, considering the knowing look sohee sends to you.

"jisung".

of course, you say in your head, your fingers trace the packaging of the bouquet, admiring the pretty flowers before you (the pretty flowers given to you by a pretty boy), a small smile comes to your face as you think about it. you told jisung not to get you anything, but he obviously wasn't going to listen to you, he's made that very clear.

"did he tell you anything?"

sohee doesn't spare you another glance, but you can just tell he's grinning like a madman with the way he's clearly trying to hold in his laughter. "he just told me to make sure to get them to you, he was very insistent".

the teasing tone of your friends voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, and your barely able to stifle your laugh, not at sohee exactly, but at jisung's actions.

of course he didn't listen when you said for him to not get you anything, he remembered what your favorite flowers are, did he spend his weekend thinking about it? you wonder what kind of florists we must've went to.. your mind races with just jisung thoughts, and you're just so lost in them that you don't realize your zoning out.

oh park jisung, why do you have to be so sweet?

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO?" YOU immediately ask the moment you come across park jisung in the hallway. the boy blinks, smiling at the sight of you, his face practically brightens at the sight of you. "what do you mean?" he inquired innocently, a small tilt of his head adding to his question. you send him a glare, not a serious one, but it's still a glare. you can't even believe his audacity, for him to look at you with such beautiful eyes, make your knees feel weak without even having to do anything? park jisung is just such a crazy man, you don't know if you can stare at him any longer, you might end up passing out from heat exhaustion (the heat from your face, of course, something that's become so normal for you when around park jisung).

"don't 'what do you mean?' me, i told you not to get me anything!" you complain, lightly shoving jisung's shoulder. "seriously, i said it was fine.." you mumble those words, but jisung just smiles.

"i wanted to get you something anyway, i needed to show you my appreciation somehow".

but just your admiration is enough appreciation for me, just you being around is enough, just you is enough.

your own thoughts weird you out on occasions.

"i told you not to—"

"but i wanted to, it's fine y/n, seriously, just accept my gesture".

you bite your inner cheek, he just always has to be nice, doesn't he? your cheeks flare up and you swear your face goes a shade of red you've never seen before, how does one boy even affect you like this? you don't think you've ever acted like this around any of your other admirers ever..

"ah" a small smile comes to your face. "thank you" you whisper, you're not sure why you get so shy all of a sudden.

"it's no problem" jisung responds, a smile coming to his face. he closes the door to his locker, and then leans onto it. "walk with me?"

you blink, jisung really likes walking with you, huh? is this gonna become your thing? you wouldn't really mind when you think about it.. you enjoy walking with jisung, you just enjoy any time you can spend with jisung.

"what's with you and asking to walk with me?"

"walking with you is just.. nice".

"do i ease your stresses or something?"

your tone is meant to come off as teasing, and your question is mostly unserious, you don't register how you sound like your flirting with jisung, probably because everything just feels so natural with jisung, you love how you feel around him, it's confusing to explain.

"i guess you could say that" jisung's response snaps you out of your jisung focused thoughts, thoughts which are difficult to not get stuck in considering park jisung is constantly occupying your mind these days. "anyway, can you walk with me?"

you pause, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. you have class in twenty minutes, and you don't really want to walk back all the way with only five minutes left to make it to class. "i don't know.. chen might kill me".

"please?"

that catches you off guard, you seemingly forget how to think for a second. jisung really wants to walk with you so bad, he's reverting to that easily convincing voice of his? you'd be an idiot to say no, you'd be an idiot to deny anything given to you by park jisung, you sigh in your head.

"okay, fine".

a smile of victory places itself on jisung's face, and he takes your hand, to your own surprise, as the two of you begin making your way down the hall. you wanna bring it up, but you don't want him to let go of you, so you don't. your face goes a bright shade of red, jisung doesn't seem to mind, or maybe he's always wanted to hold your hand, you aren't sure.

you focus way too much on it, on the way it feels, how jisung's soft hands contrast your rough ones, how warm his hands are, you don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go. god, you feel like such a loser, freaking out over a boy holding your hand.

but it's not just a boy, it's park jisung, park jisung makes you feel things you thought you'd never feel before..

"why do you seem so worried?" jisung chuckles, his hand holding yours. he nudges your shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow.

"because, i don't wanna be late".

jisung snickers, not making fun of you, though, he hopes you don't think that. "have you never skipped a class before?"

your eyes widen as large as saucers, model student park jisung has skipped classes? a small chuckle escaped your lips. "no, i could never bring myself to, it always made me feel strange.."

now it's jisung's turn to look surprised, you laugh again, why does he assume you skip classes? or have even attempted to skip? you wonder what goes through his mind. "are you serious? you've never tried to skip before?"

you scoff, pinching his arm. "i tried to once in the sixth grade because of a dare from friends, but i literally couldn't do it, they called me a wimp for the rest of the year".

"aww sad".

"don't give me your fake pity, also— you've skipped class before!?"

jisung chuckles at your surprise, giving a small smile. "it was a few times as a sophomore, some classes are just so boring i can't resist".

"wow, model student park jisung skips his classes? i cannot believe the information that has been bestowed upon me".

the words, paired with your sarcastic tone made jisung let out yet another snicker, he hopes he's not overdoing it in your eyes, you're genuinely just a very funny person. "oh no! don't use this secret to tarnish my pristine reputation!"

"you're such an idiot".

a cute idiot.

"be quiet, you still love me" jisung rebuts, adding a small nudge to your shoulder along with his words.

it's weird to say, but you like this. even with your totally non-romantic feelings for jisung, you find this nice. is this what dating him would be like? you get to hold hands and joke around in the halls without a care in the world? you think you'd enjoy that, you'd enjoy dating park jisung.

wait what?

you snap out of your thoughts when jisung stops, so you stop too. he lets go of your hand, and you resist the urge to frown, because you don't want to come off as desperate. (but you are desperate, you're so desperate, having park jisung hold your hand was so nice, you want him to hold it again).

"this is my stop, thank you for my walking with me".

the words are simple, basic, but you find your face heating up at them anyway. you clear your throat, not wanting to stay silent any longer. "it was no problem, i couldn't disagree anyway".

jisung laughs, he is so pretty, so pretty without even having to do anything significant. "of course you couldn't" he looks down at his feet. "anyway! have a good day y/n, don't be late to your next class!"

you blink as you watch jisung walk into the auditorium for his next class, you watch as he walks away, standing there for what seems like forever. how could a guy, just a guy affect you so much? what is it with park jisung and making you stop in your tracks? he's mesmerizing, just so easily draws you in.

your eyes widen as you realize the time, you're going to be late for your next class, mr. chen is going to kill you!

and as you totally sprint down the hallway to get to your next class, your mind is racing with thoughts of park jisung the entire time.

"AM I NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND?" YOU CAN practically hear the pout in sungchan's voice as he said those words. you place the extra polaroids on your desk, then glance up at your friend, who stares at you with an expression of defeat on his face. you raise an eyebrow, puzzled at what the actual hell he's talking about, he's always just bringing stuff up so randomly, you can't even keep up with what he's referring to now. sungchan just frowns, letting out a groan of frustration as plops down beside you, a small huff adding to his words. you chuckle at the way he decides to present himself, and he groans once again, very frustrated. "where is this coming from?"

"why didn't you tell me about you and jisung".

you pause, an expression of surprise comes to your face, your face which heats up astonishingly quickly. "me and jisung? me and jisung what? we aren't—"

"y/n there's no point in denying it, everyone already knows".

"everyone already knows what?"

"that you and jisung have a thing, it's fine if you don't wanna tell everyone but excluding me? your best friend in the whole entire world from the news?"

"jisung and i aren't dating!" you say immediately, clasping your hands together as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. why do people even think that? yeah you like park jisung but how did people even reach the conclusion that you were dating? you're not even sure if jisung returns your feelings. "i don't even know where people got that idea.."

"so your constant yearning stares and pitched up giggles are all not apart of that?"

"i don't—" you are definitely showcasing all guilty characteristics, your red face, your shrill voice, and your very obvious lying, sungchan sees right through you, anyone would be able to. "yearning stares are stupid i don't do that!"

"yeah, sure y/n" sungchan sighs, and you groan, screaming into your pillow. "i'm not trying to be mean or anything, but it's disgustingly obvious that you're into jisung, and i mean in a cringy way".

you gasp in offense, turning away from your best friend. you want to remain stubborn, but you can't, of course you can't, how can you even deny your feelings for jisung anymore if other people can now tell that you like him? your face heats up in embarrassment, and you cover your face with your hands. "is it really that obvious?" you mutter, hoping the answer isn't what you think it is.

"yeah, very, i wouldn't even be surprised if the two of you were actually dating and this was a little trick of yours".

sungchan points at you, an accusatory look in his eyes, but he immediately lets it go, because he knows you, and he can tell that you are telling the truth. you don't even have the courage to look at him, still covering your face with your hands. "have you not told jisung how you feel yet?"

your silence tells sungchan everything he needs to know, and the look he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"YOU HAVEN'T!?"

"i haven't found any time too!"

"how much time have you been spending around jisung these days!? you haven't even tried to bring it up to him!"

you let yourself fall to the side, half your body hanging off your bed. "i don't know how to" you whine, mind immediately rushing to thoughts of park jisung, thoughts you probably shouldn't be having. "it's awkward!"

"well i'm sure jisung feels the same with the way he always has to resist the urge to kiss you in the hallway".

"with the way he WHAT!?"

the words are enough to make you rise from your formerly fallen state, a look of astonishment on your face. did jisung really return your feelings? or was sungchan just trying to start something that would end up absolute humiliation?

"y/n, not trying to be rude or anything, but it's so obvious that jisung wants to date you, he doesn't even have to say it for everyone to know!"

you feel like you just discovered the secrets of the universe with those words, park jisung likes you? like likes you likes you? once the realization dawns on you, you gasp loudly.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS SUCH AN IDIOT UGH!"

sungchan watches you freak out, he truly can't believe that he had to tell you for all of it to finally set in.

it's actually pretty funny, and he snickers as he watches you go absolutely ballistic.

"HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" JISUNG ASKS the first recognizable person he sees in the hallway. he hasn't seen any seniors anywhere for a while, but that's because the days keep getting warmer, meaning graduation keeps getting closer, most of the seniors only take two classes and then go on to do their extracurriculars, so they don't really have to spend the whole entire day at school, but it's weird today because he usually always sees you, even when he isn't purposefully looking for you (which has become a common thing for him to do, he's just loves the time he can spend with you). he hopes you aren't absent, because today is friday, and if he doesn't tell you his important news now he's going have to wait an extra two days.

"y/n? uh..." the unfamiliar boy pauses for a moment, as if thinking, and jisung is hoping that it isn't the worst, because he really needs you to be here today. "well i'm not sure where he is actually! probably with his other photographers".

"but he's here right?" jisung doesn't care if he comes off as desperate, his only focus is you, you are his main priority, he doesn't care about the impression he's making on others, he can truly only think about you at the moment.

"yeah! i'm just not sure where exactly!"

"okay thank you!"

the guy gives him a strange look, a mix of teasing and giddy, but jisung walks off too fast to see it, he's set on finding you. he doesn't exactly know where he's supposed to go, he's just hoping to somehow spot you and be able to get you alone.

"what are you rushing for?" chenle comes out of nowhere, noticing jisung's urgency and the way he's clearly focused on something specific strikes him as odd, but he already has an idea of what's making jisung so fidgety. "you're gonna confess your love to y/n or something?"

"yes, actually i am chenle, it'd be great if i could find him, though".

maybe it's jisung's surprising honesty, or the way his main priority is you. chenle finds it amusing how quick the switch flipped, but it's also kind of cute. the usual pessimist, mr 'i don't really care about love' park jisung is down bad for a boy, it's adorable. "have you tried the photography room?"

"where do you think i'm heading?"

chenle chuckles at jisung's attitude, simply smiling and pulling his cheek. "alright then! don't forget to tell me how it goes!"

jisung doesn't spare chenle another glance, just turns back around and focuses on the task at hand, finding you and telling you how he feels.

jisung wonders how you'll react, based on what he's seen, it's not completely guaranteed that you'll reject him, it's probably more likely that you return his feelings rather than don't. does that make him horrible? thinking because you've exhibited the traits of someone who has a crush that you have a crush on him?

maybe you don't like him and he's letting it all get to his head, it all just seems too good to be true.

jisung doesn't even have to go all the way to the photography room, because he bumps right into you whilst on his way there, and a small yelp escapes your lips. "oh my god.. sorry!"

jisung cannot contain his excitement, and his nervousness. there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about, this is y/n. kind, understanding, charming y/n, it's not like he's going to scream at you for telling him you like him. it’ll all be fine.

"it's alright" you whisper, shaking your head for a moment. "i was looking for you" you immediately say, not allowing for jisung to speak before you.

jisung's eyes widen. you were looking for him? it makes his brain go haywire, figurative cogs in his head turning. "that's ironic, i was looking for you too".

jisung swears he can see the red coloring on your cheeks, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"i have to tell you something".

the two of you say that sentence in unison, the same amount of anxiety coursing through your veins, the same red hue on your cheeks, the same look of surprise in your eyes. "you can go first" you whisper, picking at your fingers, you aren't exactly sure if you want to hear what he's about to say.

"are you sure? it seems you have something more important to say.."

"it's fine! really, i can just say it after yo—"

"i'm in love with you".

the words strike you like a punch to the gut, a slap to the face. your stomach drops, your face is burning horribly, and your legs feel like they're about to give in. you cannot believe it, you hope you don't pass out, you hope you don't just die right here, that'd be so embarrassing.

park jisung is in love with you. beautiful, talented, model student park jisung who you've never truly known how you felt about is in love with you. you are so happy, giddy, and it disgusts you, but the disgust is quickly replaced by the feeling of joyousness. park jisung is in love with you, he feels the same way.

"jisung, i'm—"

"it's okay if you don't return my feelings i just wanted to tell you!" is that really what he thinks? that you don't love him back? he must be crazy, you've only ever exhibited reciprocal feelings. "i'll be off now!"

"no! don't go!" you grab jisung's wrist before he can walk away. smart move y/n, you're acting so natural right now. "i just, i return your feelings! i just don't know how to explain it, also my hands are very sweaty right now and i feel gross.."

you let go of jisung's wrist and feel your face get unbearably hotter. it's embarrassing, you feel so embarrassed, but it's park jisung, and jisung just stares at you lovingly. you're so cute, how did it take him this long to tell you how he felt?

"you're so cute".

jisung doesn’t even realize he says the words until you give him that look, and your red face just makes him giggle more. "this isn't— that is not fair! i was supposed to confess first!"

"you're the one who told me to go first!"

"i didn't know you were going to tell me you liked me! i prepared a whole sentence for you and everything!"

you whine, covering your red face with your hands. jisung removes your hands from your face, and a small smile graces his pretty features. he's absolutely gorgeous, he has such a pretty smile, you have the sudden urge to tell him about it. "your smile is beautiful".

now it's jisung's turn to become the red faced lovesick fool. "ah, really?" he responds, voice shaky, hands even more shaky, but they're so soft, your mind always reminds you to note that.

you hum in agreement. "it's very pretty, i can't believe more people don't talk about it".

"well you can talk about it, aren't we technically dating now?"

the question makes you pause. you feel like your about to go insane, you're dating park jisung? park jisung is your boyfriend? this is like a dream come true, a dream you thought would stay a dream and only a dream. "dating? dating! yeah yeah!"

your natural act is not natural at all, you are very nervous, so nervous you feel like your about to collapse onto the floor. "there's no need to be so nervous.."

you groan. "says you!"

"alright y/n" jisung lets go of your hands, much to your dismay, because you frown. he takes note, and reaches over to grab your own once again, intertwining your fingers. "we’re dating, you don't have to go red faced every time i compliment you now".

"but it's you, how do i not?"

jisung sighs, leaning forward and pressing a small peck on your lips. oh he is such a stupid little—

"why would you do that!?"

"i'm sorry!" jisung giggles, he was definitely not sorry. "it was an instinct, i had to!"

"you— ugh!"

park jisung can't just not make you nervous, he's such a crazy man.

one that you love, of course.

"I THINK I LIKE THIS ONE THE MOST.." JISUNG states, admiring the polaroid photos which litter the desk. you hum at his words, rummaging through the box on the counter, you are very much focused on finding that estranged camera taehyun had pointed for you to find. your boyfriend glances up, looking over your shoulder, silently watching as you get frustrated about this stupid camera you couldn't find. "which one?" you inquire, glancing over at him. jisung holds up the polaroid, a picture you'd taken of you and sungchan at the beach when you were nine. a pretty photo, you aren't even sure how you pulled it off. "ah, that is a pretty one" you whisper, and you smile the moment jisung smiles. his smile is so pretty, a cute stretch which is enough to make you smile, even if you feel down.

"what’s with your face?"

"searching for this old camera is pissing me off" you remark, knowing that you have to search for this is just making you even more mad, why do you have to pack the photography room right before graduation? you hate it. "who even left it in here?"

"a former student maybe?"

you close your eyes, sighing. "i need this to be over so much more quickly" you complain, and jisung just laughs at your misery.

"we graduate in a week, y/n, just be patient" the younger pokes your cheek, then he cups your face, trying to make your frown disappear. "an old camera is not the end of the world".

you glance down at jisung's lips, then narrow your eyes. "are you trying to seduce me?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"no?" jisung responds, adding a small tilt of his head to his words. "do i sound believable?"

"not at all" you say, pushing jisung's hands away and looking back to the box in front of you so you can continue to scour for this camera you have to get for your friend. you continue to search through the box, trying to find this old dslr camera for your friend. "so don't distract me".

"i'm not!" jisung whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin onto your shoulder, watching you try to succeed at your mission of finding a camera. "you don't want to give me, your lovely, amazing boyfriend attention?"

you merely roll your eyes at jisung, he's so annoying (in a cute way), you're about to call chenle to drag him away from you, but you also don't want him to let go of you, his arms around your waist make you feel safe, loved, park jisung makes you feel so loved.

"i found it!" you shriek, victory soaring in your voice. "fucking finally".

"okay so can you give me a kiss now?" jisung asks, puckering his lips and leaning closer to you.

he's so desperate, and you are too, it's adorable, park jisung is adorable. "hmm" you pretend to think about it, an inquisitive look making it's way to your face. "nah".

"y/n! that's not fair!" jisung whines, shaking you with his arms that are still around your waist. he frowns, trying to give you his best puppy dog eyes.

you almost give in, but you push him away, taking the camera you'd been searching for. "later, babe".

"you said that this morning!"

you sigh, turning around to stare at the pouting park. the cute pout remains on his face, how can you ever resist him? you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, ruffling his hair. "there, are you happy you big baby?"

"you could do better".

"uh huh, and you could be patient".

jisung frowns once again, but it's not a serious one, just the cute one he likes to do when he pretends to be mad at you. "don't be mad, you know i love you".

jisung does know, he knows that very well. he smiles at you, he's so in love with you, and not even in an embarrassing way, there's nothing embarrassing about this, he feels joyful, a sense of euphoria overtakes him whenever he’s with you.

"i know, i love you too".

and he isn't lying when he says that.

because he truly does.

#park jisung #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct x reader #nct x male reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x male reader #park jisung imagines #park jisung x reader #park jisung x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

[matchadobo]

KIDD; hockey player kidd x figure skater reader

summary: title says it all

warning/s: none, very fluff, gn reader

* thinking about hockey player kidd who's been exceling since high school as that athlete kid and figure skater name that was also unstoppable in ice.

* kidd is an absolute monster at the rink, as aggressive as hockey players are; kidd was perfectly suited to this. the team's ace and is totally the most jackass member; nobody can say shit about it because he carries the team. he's a good team captain but not a good senpai, he'd enjoy making the rookies suffer and would entirely destroy them at initiation, he says it'll only make them stronger

* just imagine kidd in a jersey 😩 that big angry man who's as pale as snow with his fiery red hair standing out in the rink. would probably have 1 as the jersey no. cuz he boastful like that. and oooooh when he raises his jersey to wipe off cold sweat during practice and that sculpted fucking body just oooooh

* you know i fight fire with fire so figure skater name who has the same amount of feist, skill, and stature in the field minus the arrogance

* so when you and him met, imagine the absolute pandemonium. it'll happen on one winter olympics where the only thing you two agree about is how each other ticks you off. you two'll meet at the bleachers by the rink because you both plan on using it at that time

* "got here first." he'll say, tone assertive as he fixes up his shoes. "and?" you'd reply walking closer to him with both hands on your jacket pockets. "i, will be using the rink. and you, should go." he wouldn't budge, would instead stand up and try intimidate you. "nah," you'd clicked your tongue, taking off your jacket. "don't wanna. you don't even own the place." you left your stuff by the bleachers to enter the rink and left him fuming

* he'd then watch you on your competitions to get to know the jackass who messed with him.

* "since when were you interested in figure skating?" killer would ask and he'd receive a glare from the other. "was just checkin' if the rink is big enough." then he'd leave 🤣 killer will look at the screen and immediately knew why kidd was acting like that

* since then, you two will somehow bump into each other a whole lot. and each time you two see each other, kidd would either avoid you or scowl at you. that's why your impression of him was really, really bad. you thought of him as a local athlete asshole.

* so when his match finally came and you were there to watch him, you saw how much of a different person he was. he was his team's ace and captain. how he carries himself in the ice was reason enough why he was the captain. you studied him thoroughly: no matter the vulgar shit that comes out of his mouth with all the curses and insults, he radiated an attractive kind of leadership. his kouhais and mates listened to him and once the game plays out, next thing you know they're winning. his kouhais looked at him with much admiration, and it looks like you are too.

* when the game finished and you went outside to get some food and to your surprise, he was buying the same burgers you were eyeing.

* "i swear, you're following me aren't you?" kidd barked, clicking his tongue. "i'll have you know that i'm a regular here. if anything, you're the one following me." you rolled your eyes, fishing out money from your wallet. "tch, i better fuckin' leave then." he started walking away as you waited for your food. "h-hey wait," you called out, contemplating if you should continue. "congrats on winning, you were pretty cool back there."

* he'd scowl again, start to blush profusely as red as his hair, and leave 😭 you'd be kinda hurt but what else can you do about it? he started avoiding you since then

* little did you know he'd be watching you at your next match at the farthest top of the bleachers just so no one would know. kil would 🤪

* kidd would be so in love with how you move, would go crazy about the fact that you two shared a rink to victory. he never appreciated artsy and dramatic shit and that's exactly what youwere doing, but you might've just change that. as someone who would only be interested in aggressive cool shit, this was a first for him. he'd watch you earnestly: how your expressions change, the shape of you, or how your body twists and dances gracefully on ice. he wouldn't be able to sleep that night especially on what you told him after his match.

* so he visited the rink once more to clear his head and figured he might see you there again, in a very unlikely chance he did see you. he figured you seem to be practicing for finals. "it's midnight." he'd greet you, his deep voice echoing in the hall. "yeah. and you're here." you stopped, skating towards the bleachers. "gotta practice for finals too?" you added. "nope, don't need to." arrogance once more, it pissed you off but now you're amused. "of course you don't," you smiled. "then what're you doing here? you must be tired from today, right?"

* he'd take a while to answer, as if thinking if he should honestly answer. kidd would always speak his mind, he was blunt and that's what he was known for. so right now, as the glass of the rink was separating the both of you in the cold ambience of midnight, he was too lost in you to think properly. he'd just brush you off and say, "'s none of your damn business. i can't sleep, maybe the ice'd fuckin' help." he dismissed, crossing his arms and looking the other way.

* so an idea popped in your head, "if you wanna take your mind off of something, maybe skating would help. go put on some skates." you skated away, continuing on your practice. not thinking about if he'd ignore you or agree. he gave no response but left, it saddened you a little

* only that he returned and is now skating with you with a mild blush on his cheeks, he said it's due to the cold and a pale ass like him becomes red as hell in those times 🥺😞. playful insults turn into snippets of your backstories then into little things about each other as you both glide across the ice. he can speak normally without insults after all.

* you two didn't mind the time at all, nor the press camping out the venue catching some pictures of your little adventures with the scotland's hockey team captain as you two snag foods from 24hour food places within the vicinity. nor does kidd give a fuck about the articles that resurfaced the next day about the rumored relationship with you

* "so you two hit it off, huh?" your coach asked you and his teammates interrogated him. you two just dismissed them with flushed red cheeks.

* after the olympics, you two didn't even try to hide the fact that you are going on dates.

#manga #anime #one piece #eustass kidd #cha writes #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid headcanons #one piece x y/n #eustass kidd headcanons #eustasscaptainkid #eustass captain kidd #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid x y/n #one piece scenarios #one piece eustass kid #one piece eustass #eustass x reader #eustass kidd fluff #eustass kid fluff #one piece x gn reader #one piece x female reader #one piece x you #one piece kid

[sunderlust]

you left me no choice but to stay here forever (right where you left me)

masterlist

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader (hotshot journalist!reader) 

synopsis: you and jake have been best friends for years and eventually he becomes the love of your life - which makes it that much harder to cope when he starts pulling away with no explanation (based off right where you left me by miss tswift)

wc: 14k (yoo I think I actually may'd)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, pining, supposedly unrequited love, kinda sad feels, reader wearing heels.

A shoutout to gretagerwigsmuse and @seasonsbloom - I wouldn't have gotten through this fic period, let alone begun writing in the first place without them. Please check out their writing, send them a sweet message or two <3

AGE SIXTEEN (pages turn and stick to each other)

This is not a date. 

On a crisp Wednesday in October - well, as crisp as it can get in Texas - you find yourself sitting across from your high school’s running back in a greasy booth at your town’s renowned pizza parlor. And even though he’s objectively the hottest guy in your grade - not to mention the fact that he’s kind, well-liked amongst your peers, almost too charming for his own good - there’s no way you would ever go on a date with Jake Seresin. 

For that matter, you’re not even friends. The only reason he’s even here is because you managed to pique his interest with the promise of a free meal in exchange for an interview for the school newspaper. So even though he held the door open for you and let you choose the side of the booth to sit in and even insisted on getting your favorite pizza toppings, you’re not going to let it distract you from doing your job.  

You had been invited to join the school newspaper team in August, but you had yet to write a story featured in the paper. By some stroke of luck, Newsteam President Joe thought you were ready to handle your own solo project: a profile on one of your school’s football players. And while you aren’t exactly thrilled to interview Westwood High School’s star running back you’re determined to deliver a moving, heart wrenching piece about #25 and the trials and tribulations of high school football that’ll have Joe reaching for tissues.  

No one needs to know that you’ve never even been to a football game in your life. 

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you tell Jake briskly after your waitress walks away after passing you your drinks. You pull out the giant legal notepad you stole from your dad’s study and your favorite ten color shuttle pen, then push down the lever for dark blue ink - for your more serious projects. 

The boy in front of you nods once, stretching both arms out on either side of him to rest on the back of the booth, eyes darting around. “Sure.” 

“So...” you start, then trail off, eyes scanning the list of questions you’d meticulously drafted the night before. You decide to start from the very beginning: “What can you remember about the first time you played with a football?” you ask, and Jake shrugs his shoulders. 

“Blood,” he says simply, and you wrinkle your nose. 

“What? Blood?” 

“Yeah. I was six. My dad was trying to teach me how to catch the ball, and ma kept telling him to use the foam ones but he said they didn’t spiral as well. Ended up pelting a pigskin at me and clocked me right on the nose. I can still feel a bump here,” you briefly look up from rapidly transcribing to watch him idly rub the bridge of his nose with his index finger. 

You nod, scrawling down the details, mentally planning out how you could possibly fit this into an article and thinking of potential titles. Child gets pelted with a football and vows revenge. Becomes Westlake’s Star RB. Pathetic. 

“So you’ve been playing since you were six?” you try to establish a timeline. “Ten years?” 

“No. I joined a youth league when I was nine,” Jake corrects. He doesn’t elaborate. 

You sigh, tapping your pen on your legal pad idly, then another question catches your eye. “What do you enjoy most about football?” you flip over to a clean page and smooth it out, not missing the flash of incredulity on Jake’s face. 

“You kidding? No offense, but these questions suck,” he snickers, and your shoulders sag as you flip back to scan your messy notes. “Do you even want to be doing this little interview?” 

“Do you?” you throw back, angrily, nervously clicking your pen as you try and figure out how you’re going to salvage this meeting, reaching into the crevices of your mind to craft a less sucky, more thought-provoking question. 

The one thing you know about conducting an interview is asking the right question, one that will unleash your subject to go off on their own path and tell their story the way they want to. This way, you find that you get the most details, the most honest perspective. And so far, all you had from Jake was a stupid story about a childhood injury doesn’t lend itself to writing a tear-jerking profile. 

Jake’s smirk doesn’t waver and after a few moments of silence, he relents. “I was promised free pizza. What’s in it for you?” 

You sigh and rest your head back against the worn pleather of the booth seat, squeeze your eyes shut, tighten your grip on your pen as you deliberate his question. “Will you answer my questions if I tell you?” 

“If they’re better questions, yeah.” 

You shoot him a quick glare, then let out a resigned sigh and click your pen, setting it down on top of your scribbled notes. “First off, I hate football. Never even seen a game.” 

“Seriously?” Jake says and folds his arms together to lean in closer over the sticky tabletop. “We live in Texas. You’ve never even watched a game on TV?” 

You shrug ambivalently. “No, it never really caught my interest. I mean, what’s there to watch? Someone screams out a bunch of numbers and then you all just charge at each other to wrestle for five seconds while a stupidly shaped ball gets tossed around? And don’t even get me started on your weird scoring system-” 

“- It makes sense if you actually commit to watching it!” Jake defends hotly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like he’s trying his hardest to fight a pout. “Why’d they even put you on this article? Doesn’t seem like you give a damn about writing football.” 

“I don’t,” you agree, sitting up straight and daring to look him straight in the eye. At this point, you don’t care how little you know about the stupid sport - you just want Jake to answer your questions so that you can go home and cobble together something, anything to show Joe that you can handle writing your own opinion pieces. “But Joe said if I write a great profile, he’ll print my story about the cafeteria workers.” 

Jake pauses, mentally chews your words. “Seems like he set you up, then, darling,” - your surprise at the sweet name is overtaken by the harsh reality check - “Seeing as he asked you to interview me when you’ve never even been to a game.” 

A wave of clarity washes over you. You didn’t think about it that way - that Joe might have intentionally put you on this project just to watch you struggle, so he could easily shut down your other ideas. You deflate, shrinking into yourself, and your solemn expression suddenly has Jake shaking his head and trying to backpedal.

“Look - hey. I’m sorry. I’m sure... Maybe he’s just testing you to see if you can write things out of your element. Isn’t that the mark of a good newspaper... writer?” 

It kind of makes sense, but the first reason hurts more, resonates with you, and opens the door for self-doubt to stride right in. With how hard you had to fight tooth and nail to even be offered a spot on the school news team, it’s easy to imagine they didn’t want to make things easy for you. Suddenly, you find yourself questioning your writing ability, wondering if you’re really cut out for this. You shrug. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Jake purses his lips, drumming his fingers again on the tabletop. “What’s the story with the cafeteria workers?” 

At this, you perk up slightly, straightening your back and halting your anxious pen tapping. “There’s just been lots of wages being cut, some layoffs early this year and now they’re being asked to work overtime and the supervisors keep changing the schedule around and giving them such a hard time for wanting to take time off. I think they let someone go because they wouldn’t come in when they had the flu. Can you believe that? Someone was literally sick and didn’t go to work in a kitchen where they could easily infect the whole school. And Sandra - you know Sandra the cashier? She told me they’re all planning to walk out in two weeks, which I think is really admirable - but honestly, I think they need someone to talk about their complaints y’know? Let their voices be heard?” 

You stop, finally realizing that you’d been rambling for the better half of a minute about a topic the star running back probably couldn’t care less about. But to your surprise, he’s listening intently, nodding encouragingly, looking contemplative. It’s weird - you’re not used to people being interested in what you have to say. 

It’s nice. 

“Sounds like you’re a lot more keyed up about this story than stupid football,” he finally says with a half smile, and you push down the warm feeling it ignites. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and shift uncomfortably, bashfully. “It’s just... It’s what I want to do. Write about real people and real events. Give the silenced a voice. Which I know, it sounds kind of cheesy and idealistic and quixotic - but I don’t care. I just want to make a difference. Maybe win a Pulitzer Prize, I don’t know.”

His eyebrows furrow - maybe he doesn’t know what a Pulitzer is - but he nods thoughtfully. “I mean... Don’t really know what quixotic means, but I don’t think you’re being cheesy. Speaking of cheese, though...” his eyes flit over your shoulder.  

Your waitress interrupts, setting down a large pizza with the toppings of Jake’s choice. He eagerly loads two slices onto his plate and continues his train of thought: “Tell you what: how about I give you a hand with the article? I’ll tell you what you need to know about football, at least.” 

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, and you’re honestly shocked he didn’t just brush off your whole rant about your hopes and dreams, amazed that he’s even offered to help. 

He shrugs and swallows the huge bite he’d taken. “‘Course - but in exchange, you’ll have to go to our games. You know, all my friends come to support me.” 

You first open your mouth to object to having to watch football - then close it, sending him an incredulous look. “We’re friends?” you ask dumbly. 

He shifts, looks the tiniest bit bashful, busies himself with the straw in his drink. “I mean... I’d like to be. Who knows, maybe you’ll be famous one day or you could help me with my English essays - ”

“- You want to be friends so I’ll cheer on you at games and tutor you for free?” you interrupt, narrowing your gaze.

But despite your tone being riddled with annoyance, despite the glare you’re now sending his way, Jake sends you an easy smile, serving himself another slice. “Nah, you just seem pretty cool.” 

-- 

By another stroke of luck, you manage to pump out a puff piece about Jake Seresin - something along the lines of how the first time #25 threw a football was the moment he resolved to never back down after the first hit, to wipe the sweat and blood from his face and keep pushing forward. Joe is more than impressed with the quality of your work - almost surprised, you annoyedly observe - and agrees to run the profile for the following week’s issue, just in time for Westlake’s playoff game. 

On Monday evening, you’re reviewing your interview notes with Sandra the Cashier at your kitchen table when suddenly, the landline rings. “Hello?” you answer, anticipating it to be one of your parents’ friends calling to gossip. The line is silent for a few moments, and you clear your throat to try again. “Anyone there?” 

Suddenly, Jake’s laughter flows into your ear. “‘Never back down’?” he quotes through a wheeze, and you hold back a smile, this time letting yourself feel the butterflies that come alive in your stomach at the sound of his voice. 

“You didn’t give me much to work with for your story!” you tell him with a small giggle. “So I managed to pull this together, and I’d say it’s a heart clencher - a tear jerker, even. Joe’s happy, at least.” 

“He gonna let you write that other thing?” 

“About the cafeteria workers? Working on it right now, actually,” you tell him, twirling the phone coil around your finger idly. 

“Well darling,” Jake says and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sweet name, at the sound of mirth filling his voice, at the memory of his smiling eye crinkles that involuntarily flashes in your mind. “I’ll hold onto this profile, hang it in my gym locker. But let me know when they print that union thing. I’d like to hold onto a future Pyoo-litzer Prize winner’s first ever real story.”

“Pulitzer,” you correct him, and despite your writing hand hurting terribly from all the notes you’ve been scribbling and the slight twinge of a headache from your eyes straining, your heart feels full as ever as you chat with Jake - your new friend -  into the late hours of the night.  

AGE EIGHTEEN (wages earned and lessons learned)

Almost two years later, you find yourself seated across from Jake at your town’s fanciest Italian restaurant. It’s been a while since your waiter has checked in to take your meal orders, but his absence easily slips your mind as the two of you gossip while munching on garlicky breadsticks that are way chewier than you’d like.

After a lull in the conversation, you take a deep breath. “How’s your mom doing?” you carefully ask, taking a sip of your coke to avoid tacking on more words, to fight the urge to add more useless attempts at hopeful sentiments.

Jake shrugs, unbothered, nonchalant. “She’s holding up.” 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he just drums his fingers on top of the white tablecloth impatiently, turning his head to glance behind him at the swinging door to the kitchen. “Have you... spoken to your dad?” you probe, and while Jake doesn’t react harshly like you expect, his hand momentarily freezes. 

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him.” 

“Right,” you pause. “Do you think you ever will?”  

Jake heaves out a sigh and turns back to face you, idly chewing at a hangnail. Your fingers twitch and you hold yourself back from reaching out to pull his hand away from his mouth. “There’s not much to say, really. They were married, and now they’re not.”

You nod slowly, taking another sip of your drink, briefly lamenting the fact that it’s now just melted ice with a dash of soda. “How are your sisters?” 

Again, he shrugs. “Fine. I’m driving them around a whole lot. Kinsey won’t come out of her room, but that’s no different than usual. They won’t talk to him either.” 

He’s silent, doesn’t seem to want to say much else, instead tries to play off his nervousness by taking another large gulp of his drink and shifting his eyes to watch the Cowboys game playing on the tiny TV behind the bar. But you can tell he’s gotten himself worked up by the way you can feel his foot tapping impatiently under the table, the way he presses his finger harder into his teeth, by virtue of knowing Jake so well. 

So you change the subject. “Are we doing this every year now, then? A friendship anniversary?” you ask. 

Jake visibly relaxes, almost looking grateful. The foot tapping stops, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth to sling an arm around the booth and send you a signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Of course - gotta celebrate the day you learned about football - ” 

“- I swear, I’ll break your nose again with one later - ” 

“With your aim? Please,” he scoffs, a goofy smile breaking the moment he makes eye contact with you. 

You roll your eyes. “Plan B is always my fists. Anyway, how do you think we’ll even keep up every year while I’m at school and you’re at the Academy?” 

“I’ll visit you at Columbia - and before you say it, shut up. You’re getting in, Miss Pulitzer. As for the Academy... Depends on whether I even apply.”

“Why wouldn’t you apply?” you ask, even though you’re sure you know the answer, ready to pour out words of affirmation, tell him that there’s no way they’d turn him down. 

“Not sure if I’d get in,” - bingo, but he follows up with something that stuns you - “And I think I might want to stick around here for a bit. Take care of the family for a bit.” 

You’re not sure what to say to that, exactly. Because you were prepared to jump into a supportive best friend mode: reassure him that he’s a shoo-in, remind him of his accomplishments, deliver your long-winded ramble of uplifting words that’ll make your mouth feel like you’re chewing cotton by the end of it. But that’s not what Jake needs right now. 

“I don’t think your Ma would want you to do that, Jake,” you say quietly. “She wouldn’t want you to abandon your dreams just to take care of her.” 

He stretches his arms back, rolls his neck out hard enough so that his joins sound like crackling rice krispies in the silence. “She’d never ask me to. But I don’t want her to have a hard time, make her shoulder the burden.” 

“Knowing her, she wouldn’t want to unload anything onto you, Jake,” you tell him firmly, sitting up straight in an attempt to look more certain, strong. “You’ve wanted this for such a long time. Don’t let your dad ruin this for you - I know a part of you wants to stick it to him or something. But fuck that, Jake. If you put your dreams on hold, you’ll regret it. You have to do this for yourself.” 

“Yeah... I guess,” he trails off, still sounding uncertain, but a little less subdued. His hand lifts up and he’s again gnawing at the raw skin on his fingers.

“You’ve really gotta stop biting your nails, Jake,” you tease, hoping it’ll relieve some of the tensions that somehow returned, and he rolls his eyes. “If you want to keep your mouth occupied -” 

“- You offering? I tell you, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it -” 

“Shut up,” you snipe, feeling the heat rush into your cheeks at the suggestion. You shake off your embarrassment. “How ‘bout chewing gum?” 

“Hate gum,” Jake pouts. “Makes my jaw hurt.” 

“You’re such a baby. Lollipops?” 

“Charles would hate me,” he replies, and you internally roll your eyes at him calling his dentist by his first name. His sincere dedication to exceptional dental health and maintaining his teeth was sure to win him the best smile Senior superlative. “If your next suggestion is smoking -”

“- It’s not!” you glare. “How about toothpicks?” 

“You want me to roll a sharp piece of wood in my mouth? Sounds delightful,” he drawls sarcastically, and you scoff, turning your eyes to look up at the ceiling. 

“Better than sticking your fingers in your mouth all the damn time. What are you, two?” 

“I’m a ten, thank you very much.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you groan out, fighting back the urge to smile. “You won’t stay a ten if you rip your fingers apart though, Jake. You should give it a try. They have flavored toothpicks, too.” 

He ponders this with narrowed eyes, pulls his hand away from his mouth to lay it flat on top of the table to examine his cuticles carefully. “Think they have cinnamon?” 

“Probably. Would keep your mouth fresh too.” 

“Oh, the ladies are gonna love that,” he laughs, smiling so big now that his eyes crinkle  and it feels like someone’s opened a window in this dim restaurant, pushed the sun higher in the sky and bathed your whole body in sunlight. You laugh along with him, rest your elbows on the table to prop your head up and just look at him, appreciate him as a boy who offered to help you within the first hour of knowing you, a man who’s willing to give up his aspirations to care for the people he loves. Your best friend who stopped giving you butterflies a long time ago and now brings you a feeling of comfort, of warmth. Of home. 

Suddenly, Jake reaches across the table, palm facing up. You eye it carefully, slowly sliding your hand into his. “You good?” 

“Thanks for putting up with me for two years,” he tells you seriously. And you shake your head with a smile, can sense the emotions well up in your eyes, feel your heart beating faster. 

“Of course,” you breathe out. “Thanks for always supporting me.” 

“Always,” he parrots back. “Anything for a future Pew-litzer Winner.” 

You huff out a wet laugh, and the two of you just sit there across from each other, smiling like idiots until finally, with your vision slightly blurred and your hand still squeezing his across the table, you glance around for your waitress who has yet to make an appearance. “You wanna just... go get some pizza?” 

“God, yes,” Jake agrees, immediately moving to stand up. “Think we can find some toothpicks on the way?” 

AGE TWENTY-THREE (she’s still 23, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be)

The October after you graduate from Columbia and Jake’s graduated from the Academy, you visit him in Pensacola in a bar that’s packed to the brim with patrons in Navy-issued khakis. You find yourself in a booth across from Jake, snacking on greasy bar eats and nursing some shitty beers. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your date, Hangman?” a dark-skinned, intimidatingly handsome man in uniform leans against your table and looks down at you with a grin that could rival a hyena’s. You glance over at Jake, who rolls his eyes. 

“Coyote,” Jake says admonishingly, flips a toothpick between his teeth, but goes on to introduce you. “This is my best friend from back home.”

You wave awkwardly, pondering where his callsign may have come from - unless that was his birth name, in which you’d love to have a quick interview with his parents. Coyote raises his eyebrows and slides into the booth next to Jake, subsequently pushing him closer to the wall and rests both elbows on the table. “So you’re Jake’s friend? With all the articles?” 

You whip your head to look at Jake, who’s bearing a sheepish grin with his cheeks getting slightly pinker. His hand raises up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s nothing -” 

“- You should’ve seen him during basic - had all these things pinned up on his wall, always reading your letters at breakfast with a puppy dog face. Honestly thought you were his sweetheart or something- Ow!” 

Coyote’s rubbing his side where Jake elbowed him harshly, cheeks still red and teeth furiously gnashing down on the toothpick. Underneath the table, you can feel Jake’s leg start bouncing, and you shift your foot forward to lightly brush his, tap the side of his tenderly. He halts his movements. 

“He’s just a great friend,” you clarify, beaming at Jake, who seems slightly less tense with his jaw unclenched. “Anyways, is Coyote your callsign?” your curiosity gets the better of you, and you figure it might be a good chance to get the spotlight off Jake. 

“Sure is. Name’s Javy,” he smirks at you, then jerks a hand over at Jake. “Has he told you his sign?” 

“Yeah, Hangman. Which is stupid, because he honestly sucks at the game -” 

“- I don’t,” Jake hotly defends, sits up in his seat and crooks an accusatory finger in your direction. “You’re the one that does weird ass long words. No one’s gonna guess - what was it? Gerrymandering?” 

Coyote attempts to stifle a laugh, but you let a giggle bubble right out of you. “I like to use it as a learning opportunity.” 

“Here’s a word for you: buzzkill.” Jake retorts, and you scoff, holding back a smile, about to snark back when you feel your phone vibrate from your purse. 

“One second,” you pull out your Blackberry, glancing over the email from your coworker at The Washington Times and tapping out a brief response. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Jake say and your heart skips a beat, a smile forming at the familiar name as you press send on your message. Your surging warmth is immediately extinguished as you look up from your phone and see that Jake’s not speaking to you at all, not even looking your way. Instead, he’s shifted his entire body to face a gorgeous woman who’s stopped by your booth and is currently looking at him with a sweet smile.

“Still on for Friday night?” she asks, and you envy how cool she sounds saying it, like there’s no doubt in her mind that Jake will say yes, against your better wishes. 

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” he replies easily, the dimple on his cheek popping out, deflating you further.

She flashes a quick smile at you as well - no malice or threat in it whatsoever - and you wonder if it’s that obvious that you and Jake are friends, that you’re not on a date even though you’d both been seated in this booth for the better half of an hour. 

Maybe she thinks you’re just here with Javy, who’s been watching the whole interaction with a smirk, eyes laser focused on you trying your hardest to keep your expression neutral. “You’re going out with Imani? What happened to Priya?” Coyote asks after the girl walks away, his pointed look at you unwavering.  

Jake shrugs. “She knew I didn't want anything serious. So does Imani. It’s just drinks and dinner and you know... whatever comes next.” 

They both share a chuckle and your heart clenches painfully. You’re no prude - you’re all in support of people having casual sex, and you’re glad Jake is forthcoming with these girls.  He’s not breaking their hearts, and they seem content to just have one night with him and be done with it. 

There’s just the tiniest whisper of anxiety that wonders if there’s something wrong with you for rarely engaging in hookup culture, for not feeling comfortable enough to have meaningless flings. The one time you took a step out of your comfort zone and hooked up with a stranger, your walk of shame felt like a daze - inside, you were empty, despondent. A part of you envies Imani and the mysterious Priya for being able to cast aside their emotions so easily, fall into bed with a stranger, step out the next morning without feeling like they’re missing a part of themself.

The little green monster in you also flares up at the realization that they’ll know Jake in a more intimate way than you ever will - in a way that you’ve only dreamt about a handful of times. Give or take. You’re not sure when you started seeing him in a different light, as more than a friend, more like the person you’d want to get old with and celebrate milestones besides the anniversary of you becoming friends - but it happened slowly, suddenly, then all at once. And now, your feelings just sit with you, tethering you to the impossible dream of knowing Jake as so much more. 

All this to say, you can’t be angry with Jake or any of these women. It’s not a crime for him to want to sleep around. You just wish you had the courage to tell him it’s not entirely victimless. 

“There’s quite a few girls back home who’d be shattered to hear this,” you tease instead, ignoring the way your stomach is dropping low, the way your appetizer is slowly creeping up your esophagus. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “Always been a heartbreaker, darlin’, it’s an occupational hazard.” he tells you and you agree mentally, idly picking at the basket of cold fries on the table. “You’ll always be my number one girl, though.” 

Ah, and the dream lives on. 

AGE TWENTY-SIX (time went on for everybody else, she won't know it)

“Happy tenth anniversary to a spectacular, intelligent, absolutely phenomenal woman,” Jake toasts, grinning across from you at Malatesta Trattoria in West Village. Jake had insisted on treating you in celebration of your new job at The New York Times - did the research and made reservations all on his own, took time off and everything. 

“Happy friendship anniversary to a guy who still forgets to pack his toothbrush,” you snicker, and laugh even harder when his look of pride quickly turns into a mock glare. 

It’s been a full year since you physically saw him at your last anniversary dinner - Jake had been away on a longer assignment in Lemoore, and you’d been busy churning out inflammatory political op-eds for The Washington Times and applying to jobs in the Big Apple. The two of you called pretty regularly, but this was officially the longest the two of you had gone without seeing each other. 

You thought it’d feel awkward, like you’d have to fumble to find your footing with him the same way you have to figure out how to balance when you put on roller skates, but it’s easy. The moment you stepped outside of your building to meet him, he’d rushed to lift you in a giant bear hug, like no time apart had even passed. And the whole night, the two of you chat about anything and everything- he fills you in on his assignment and about something he’s gunning for called Top Gun, and you tell him about an upcoming project covering creative renewal in Beirut - you both nod along as best as you can while the other speaks. 

After your plates are empty and cleared out and you both have determined that you’re too full for dessert (although, the ice cream calling your name at your apartment might have you singing a different tune later), you both stand up to exit the restaurant. 

The wine you had with dinner has loosened up your movements - typically, you have to move through the city streets with big strides and purpose - like you’ve got somewhere to be and you’re already ten minutes late. But with Jake, there’s no timetable, no place you have to hurry to reach. Right now, the only thing on your agenda is to stand next to Jake in the middle of the sidewalk outside of this fancy restaurant and appreciate the moments you have with him. 

And figure out how the hell you’re getting home. 

“You wanna call a cab?” Jake asks you with an arm wrapped around your waist to steady your swaying form, and you balk at the thought of having to pay a hefty fee just to sit still in a car and try to keep your spinning head from making you throw up. God, your tolerance has become abysmal. 

“We can just take the F train back to my place. If you’re okay walking?” you reply fuzzily, looking up at him with a messy grin. Jake’s sweet expression catches you off guard - hazel green eyes locked on you, his sweet smile etching a dimple deeper into his cheek, like Michaelangelo himself carved it. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you become all too aware of the feeling of his hand squeezing your hip, the warmth of his forearm around your lower back, the way his chest is just barely brushing your shoulder and yet still manages to heat you up from head to toe. 

And you know he’s only trying to keep you upright, probably just trying to gauge your level of drunkenness and assess whether you’re good to make the thirty minute walk plus subway ride to your home. But he doesn’t know that it’s not the three glasses of wine you had at dinner that’s intoxicated you this much, that’s made your mind feel lighter than air and your heart ten times fuller. It’s all Jake - Jake - who’s looking at you like you’re the only thing on his mind, the only person in the world, the only one who matters.

“Are you fine with that?” he asks, and the softness written in his features reminds you of all the times you’ve looked at Jake and found a new favorite thing to fall in love with. 

The very first time you looked at him - really looked at him - you fixated on the way his dimple poked out while you regaled him with a story about how you exacted revenge on your friend’s two-timing ex by pouring your entire yogurt cup on top of his head. The way he threw his head back with his eyes squinted shut and hands clapping together made you feel more enamored with him than ever, had you scraping the back of your mind for more stupid jokes to make him laugh that hard. 

Another time, you remember looking right at his nose and thinking about how much you wanted to plant a sweet kiss on the tip, found yourself wondering how it would feel pressed against your neck as you both drifted off for the night, and how the sound of his soft breathing beside you would be the most comforting, reassuring sound to fall asleep to. 

This time, you’re completely mesmerized by the way the streetlights hit the flecks of green in his eyes, the way his pupils look slightly dilated, the way his gaze darts down for a split second to your lips and right back up to meet your heated look. If you weren’t drunk you’d fall right into the moment, lean right in and press your mouth to his like you’ve always wanted to, let his perfectly brilliant teeth clash with yours. Maybe see for yourself if you can taste cinnamon on his tongue. 

But you are incredibly drunk right now, and that’s no way to kiss him for the first time. So you pull your head back ever so slightly. “I think I just need to walk off the alcohol for a bit,” you shoot him a sloppy grin, still managing to lose yourself in those fucking beautiful eyes. 

Jake’s talking, murmuring something low in your ear. “You sure? Those shoes look like they hurt.” 

You look down at your heels - and yeah, they’re fucking painful. These past few minutes of Jake’s inebriating presence has given you the briefest reprieve from the sharp pains shooting up your calves. You’re desperate to take them off - but you can’t recall when your last tetanus shot was. And even if you were up-to-date, no one could convince you that it’s safe to walk barefoot in the streets of New York. “No, I’ll make it. Need to walk off the wine.” 

“You wanna wear my shoes?” Jake offers and you scoff. 

“You wanna walk barefoot? What, do you think they sanitize and mop the sidewalks every night?” 

“I’m wearing socks!” he defends and you roll your eyes. 

“Still gross. Besides, you know what they say about guys with big feet?” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, looks momentarily stunned as his eyes dart to his shoes, then return to your face. “Big dick?” 

“Big shoes,” you deadpan. “And if I take one step in your big clown shoes, I’m faceplanting right on the sidewalk. You want that to happen? ” 

“Clown shoes?” he repeats to himself quietly with an amused smile, then shakes his head, finally relenting. “Fine. But if you get tired, I’m not carrying you.” 

“I’ll make it,” you insist. 

--

“Jake?” you say thirty minutes later after traversing up the subway stairs, stopping for a moment to bend down and massage your ankles. Jake stops, shifts the paper bag with leftovers from one hand to the other and places his free hand on your back. He looks down at you with concern. 

“Yeah?” 

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d turn you down, deliberating if you even feel comfortable asking him for a piggyback ride for the five minute walk back to your apartment. But the aching toe cramp that you’re trying and failing to stretch out drowns out your insecurities, silences your fear that he wouldn’t be able to manage. You remind yourself that he’s been bragging about his new squat record for weeks now, anyway. “Can you carry me on your back? Please?” 

A sigh. Then, “Sure darlin’. Hop on.” 

You wordlessly reach to take the leftovers from him and he turns away from you, couches down low enough to let you clamber onto him. With an arm secured under each leg, he extends to his full height and lifts you up onto his back. 

“Alright?” he rumbles, and you nod wordlessly, wrap your arms around his neck and hook your chin over his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in his familiar cologne, some Tom Ford scent you’d gifted him a few Christmases ago. It grounds you, keeps your head from spinning even more as you relish the feeling of your ankles not supporting your whole body weight. 

You feel the alcohol hit for a second wave, completely demolishing your self-control, unleashing your thoughts to race limitlessly, to see no bounds. At this point, your head is close to mush, your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much, and you think you’ll never let yourself drink rosé again. But you’re certain of one thing. “I think you might be the love of my life,” you murmur sleepily. 

Silence. Jake doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t even say it back. So maybe you were too quiet, or perhaps you completely imagined saying it at all. 

Because it’s unlike Jake to let you have the last word. 

AGE TWENTY-EIGHT (I'm sure that you’ve got a wife out there, kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware)

“Have you ever thought about this?” Jake asks you, leaning back against his chair as he  watches the happy couple swaying in the middle of the dance floor to an Ed Sheeran song - not your personal choice, but the rest of the onlookers seem to be incredibly moved by it. This year, your friendship anniversary coincides with your old roommate’s wedding, and after much pleading (and the promise of an open bar), Jake agreed to fly out to be your plus-one. 

It surprised you how much you had to beg for him to come. At first, he had been hesitant, imploring you to attend the wedding instead of meeting him for your usual dinner. You didn’t hesitate to dismiss  that idea - it’s been twelve years of celebrating, and there’s no way you’re stopping now. Not when it already feels like Jake’s been pulling back for the past year or so: calling less often, answering texts hours after you sent them, sometimes not even replying to your articles with anything aside from a little thumbs-up emoji. 

At this point, it feels like this anniversary is all that’s tethering him to you. 

“Have I ever thought about my wedding?” you ponder. “Yeah, sometimes. Don’t think I’d ever spring for something as big as this, but -” 

“- No, no,” he interrupts, “you wouldn’t want to make a big fuss of it all, not a crazy big party and definitely not a five hundred person guest list. ‘Course I know that about you.” Jake smiles and shifts forward, leaning in close; you can just barely smell the sandalwood and vanilla musk of his cologne. He seems relaxed, finally looks content to be here - though you’re sure that’s all thanks to the top-shelf whiskey he’s imbibing. “I meant marriage, commitment, settling down. You think you’d ever want to do that?” 

You purse your lips, gaze still locked on the newly wedded couple, appreciating the matching expressions of adoration written on their faces as they twirl around their guests. “Of course. Just haven’t found the right person who’s ready to do that with me.” 

He scoffs. “What, like you’re struggling to find someone? You know, from the minute I walked into this banquet hall with you, I’ve counted maybe five death glares from interested parties.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you snort, tilting your glass up vertically to catch the last few drops of champagne.

“Sweetheart, I’d never lie to you. In fact, I think the redhead over by the bar is still sending daggers my way. And she’s hot, so I’m kind of turned on by it,” Jake adds seriously, and you roll your eyes. “Come on! I thought you were going to give Tinder a shot earlier this year?” 

You snort again, this time feeling a little more jaded. “I did give it a shot. And all I found was guys holding up fish and finance bros asking for my snap. I don’t even have a Snapchat, Jake. What happened to just getting people’s numbers and having a normal conversation?” 

“It’s a new era, all this online dating stuff,” he replies, crossing one ankle over his knee and interlacing his hands over his abdomen. “But I see your point, maybe Tinder isn’t the best place to find your forever partner.”

“Don’t know why I even bothered,” you remark and look over at him, momentarily allowing yourself to appreciate the way his tux fits over him. “Maybe if we’re both still single by the time we’re forty, we get hitched,” you muse, only half joking. 

He chokes on his whiskey, coughing loudly with the liquor singing his throat. “Yeah, right!” Jake finally manages out with a laugh and teary eyes, and it feels like someone’s poured a bucket of ice water on you, wakes you up from the lighthearted banter you lost yourself in. 

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes, heart dropping at the rejection. “Don’t sound too eager. I’m not down on one knee here or anything.” 

“Sorry,” he apologizes but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He swirls around the remaining amber sea in his drink, slightly mesmerized by the mini whirlpool. “You know me though. Never settling down.” 

You know you should take the sign to drop the conversation, but his quick refusal and blasé tone rubs you the wrong way. “Why? Because of your parents?” you hedge, leaning in to get a better look at his face, which has slightly hardened in the dim glow of the bulb lights strung across the venue. The extra bubbly you’ve consumed pushes you to question him, to finally figure out why he’s so resistant to letting himself be loved. “I know you’re scared you’ll end up making the same mistakes as your dad, but you know you’re not like him. Not in any way.”

He grits out your name warningly, arching a brow and gripping his glass tight. You run the risk of it shattering if you keep pushing. But that’s the least of your worries; right now, you’re blind with hurt. How can he just dismiss you like it’s nothing? How can he close himself off so easily? 

“Typical Jake Seresin, you know?” you cut him off hotly, trying with all your might to keep your voice even through the haze of champagne. “Always so ready to let your daddy issues ruin your chances at happiness.” 

He glares at you, knocks back the rest of his drink without even grimacing, doesn’t meet your gaze. Crunches the ice bitterly. “Get off your high horse, sweetheart,” he finally says roughly. “Stop pretending like you know me.” 

You scoff, still not backing down. “You think after over ten years of friendship, I don’t know you at all?” 

Another shrug. His leg starts bouncing incessantly. “People change, darlin’. You certainly have.” 

You draw back, feeling like he just slapped you in the face. “What d’you mean by that?” you ask a little quieter, with a slight waver, still audible over Ed Sheeran’s ballad. Where’s he going with this? 

He groans again, turns to look at you, but you don’t quite recognize the expression on his face. It’s menacing, hardened, darker than the amber liquid in his cup. “We do our separate things, sweetheart. We call a couple times a year and meet up on the same weekend to do the same dinner and yeah, that’s nice. It’s great. But that doesn’t mean you know me as well as you think you do. Quit grilling me - I’m not just a sad story for you to write about.”

His words punch you in the gut, sock you in the ear, send blood coursing angrily through your veins. Part of you wants to tell him off, unleash your fury, make a scene in the middle of this reception hall. Another part of you wants to storm off and leave him behind, but you’re not sure if you want to face the reality that he might not follow, might not chase after you with apologies and promises to soothe the burn from his words. 

Slightly misty-eyed, you fight to reel your emotions back in, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you or make Jake feel like you’re guilting him. It feels an awful lot like using thimbles to catch roof leaks. Your strength comes back to you in slow, even waves: your heart returns to its normal pattern, your chest no longer heaves for air. 

“You can’t say things like that, Jake,” you tell him, your voice surprisingly steady, rock solid. “You’re my best friend, and you can’t speak to me that way.”

His jaw ticks, his expression remains unchanged. “Sure, right. Sorry.” 

The easy dismissal brings your anger back in a rush, yet gives you time to think about your next words carefully. “You’re such an ass, Jake,” you bite out, and maintain decorum, calmly push your chair back to stand up, send him a glare with all the furiosity you can muster before making a bee-line for the exit without looking back to see if he’s following suit. 

You dodge fellow wedding attendees, snatching champagne from a waiter with a platter before knocking it back and setting the empty flute back down and continuing to make your way to the exit. Over Ed Sheeran’s second ballad, you can hear Jake quietly calling out your name, his footsteps right behind you. 

As you burst through the doors, into the crisp outside air, you teeter for a few steps in your heels before leaning against a pillar, trying to contain your emotions, lest you say something silly or embarrassing or humiliating. 

“Would you just wait? Would you let me talk?” Jake’s hot on your heels as he steps over the threshold. 

“You’ve said plenty,” you throw back. 

“Come on, darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jake says behind you, closer now. 

“I think you made it very clear,” you grind out, turning on your heel and looking him straight in the eye. “You can’t smooth-talk your way out of this, Seresin. That might work on everyone else, but it’s not doing jack shit on me!” 

He throws his hands up in the air, shakes his head. You eye how his fingers are twitching, how he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “What do you want me to say? I’m just saying we’re not the same people we used to be -”

“- That’s fine!” you gesticulate dramatically, too overwhelmed with frustration to let your hands remain still. “But you don’t have to be an ass about it! You don’t have to minimize our friendship like this! God, Jake, what has it been? Twelve years? Twelve years of loving you, supporting you, celebrating anniversaries -” You cut yourself off, realizing what just bubbled forth from of your mouth. 

Jake’s expression stays ablaze, but his spine stiffens, hands twitch twice before he clenches them, digging his nails into his palms harshly. You meet his heavy gaze, mouth slightly agape, mind running a million miles a second until it starts to decelerate, slows down gradually, then stops on one thought, one single thought alone. 

“I love you, Jake,” you say. Like you’re stating a fact, common knowledge for everyone and their mother. The sky is blue, the world isn’t flat, and you’re in love with Jake Seresin. 

He inhales, shaking his head, and looking down at the ground. 

You falter, furrow your eyebrows, wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you. “I love you, Jake,” you repeat, this time a little louder, taking a step forward, closer to him. “I’m in love with you.” 

Jake looks up, his face contorted into a look of pain, eyes void of its usual light. Inhales sharply. “I know.” 

You falter. “You know?“ the words feel like marbles rolling out; you can almost hear the tiny plinks as they hit the ground. 

“Yeah.” 

”…How long?” 

He swallows. “Since New York.” 

You’re transported back in that moment, a montage of scenes from your tenth anniversary flashing through your mind like you’re in a cinema. You remember the night’s end in a haze: his warm body next to yours as you stumbled to the subway, you gripping onto his arm tightly with every lurch of the train, Jake carrying you on your back and you saying -

“Oh.” You shrink back, and the realization he’s held onto this for two years hits you like a truck. Jake is silent, hands now shoved into his pockets as he awaits your next few words. “And... you have nothing else to say to that?” 

Jake lets out a pained groan. “Listen, darlin’, don’t get me wrong. I... care about you so damn much, but I can’t feel for you the way you want me to. We wouldn’t work.”

His words make you freeze and your anxiety screams out ‘I told you so!’ in a manner that echoes thunderously throughout your brain. This unrequited love is something you’ve always expected, always prepared yourself for, yet you never gave it much further thought to safeguard your heart. 

You’re rapidly accelerating through the stages of grief - next, your anger comes back to you. First, in small rivulets that trickle down your spine - then as a rush of agony that feels an awful lot like the crash at the bottom of a waterfall. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall, your palms already stinging from how hard you’ve dug your manicure into them - but is it fair for you to be mad at him? For not loving you the way you desperately want him to? 

For the longest time, a small, tiny part of you hoped Jake would come around, decide to knock on your door, knock you back with a signature bear hug. That he’ll swear to be there always, love you the way you love him. 

After tonight, you reflect, it seems like that might never happen. And quickly, you surmise that you’d rather have one part of him than nothing at all. So as you finally reach the stage of acceptance, you vow to treasure every moment of friendship with Jake Seresin. 

“I understand,” you tell him, feeling like you’re miles away. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?” His eyes still rake over you with concern. 

“Positive.” You do your best to plaster on the most reassuring smile you can. 

“Sweetheart -” 

“- Can we just talk about this later?” you interrupt, feeling defeated and embarrassed all rolled into one. There most certainly is more to the conversation - but all you want to do is prolong it for longer, preserve the fantasy in your mind that you can Jake are alright, that the past few minutes never happened. 

He closes his mouth, nods, pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. 

From inside, the music suddenly changes - still a slow ballad, but this time it’s Al Green, Let’s Stay Together. “I believe you stipulated that I had to dance to at least one song,” Jake holds out a hand, looking at you almost hopefully. As if the last few minutes hadn’t completely shattered your heart and sent the pieces flying away with the wind. 

“Ah,” you say, feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome you. “You go on ahead. Think I just need some more air.” 

Internally, your heart is deflating, sending slight tremors throughout your body. But you can’t have Jake know that, can’t have him feel even worse about this, won’t have him feeling an ounce of guilt for something so out of his control. 

Despite your best efforts to hold it all in, a small tear escapes and slides down your cheek as soon as Jake’s back turns, and you feel like you might have kicked a pebble that’s about to precipitate an avalanche.

--- 

Jake calls you up a few days after, initially sounding like he just wants to check in until his tone takes on a more somber note, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Listen, I know we had a little bit of a heated... discussion at the wedding. And I just need you to know I really, really, appreciate you. And I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I just want to make sure we can still stay friends.” 

“Yeah, of course -” you stop yourself from readily agreeing, pause to reevaluate how you really want to take this moving forward. 

Jake is the love of your life. That much is certain. And you’re not sure how willing you are to push aside your feelings, pretend your confession never even happened, just to go on with the guise that you guys are simply friends. Just friends. Holding off on love in hopes that he’ll come around. 

If you’re being completely truthful, a part of you does feel empty without a person by your side, without a companion to walk through life with, without a partner to share all the moments of joy and despair and everything in between with. You’ve tried dating throughout the years - agreed to so many blind dates, worked up the courage to ask guys at the bar out. And somehow, you always run into the same problem. 

They’re not Jake. 

And it’s not like they’re not as funny as him, or as charismatic or charming or sweet as him. It’s not the fact that they gave you spearmint kisses when you’ve always craved cinnamon. It’s the harsh truth that no matter what, they always feel threatened by your passion for your job and your drive to succeed. Always find problems with you jetting across the world for different projects, and patronize you for saying you wanted to make a difference with your stories. 

One Tinder date even mocked you for aspiring to win a Pulitzer - you’d promptly excused yourself to the bathroom and never came back, instead ending your night with a long phone call from Jake, who was six hours ahead at the time but more than happy to console you. 

Jake’s always encouraged you, from the very first day at the pizza parlor to now. And the more guys you took a chance on dating, the less hopeful you felt about finding a future with someone as kind, as wonderful, as unwaveringly supportive as Jake. 

Maybe it’s time to let go of the pipe dream. 

“Actually, no. I don’t think I can move forward as just friends,” you rush out, and admittedly, it feels like you’re ripping off a bandaid but the sting feels more like an ache. “And don’t get me wrong - your friendship means the world to me. Even if you think we’re different people now. But it feels like nothing’s changed for me, Jake. I think for years, I’ve been holding onto the hope that you’ll come around and feel the same way. But after this past weekend... I think I need some space. Just so I can get over you, if you’re not changing your mind anytime soon.”  

Jake’s silent on the other end of the line - the only indication that he hasn’t dropped off is the sounds of cars rushing on the other side. A part of you hopes he’ll take the bait you cast with your final sentence, that at the very least, he’ll consider reconsidering. You don’t think you’ll get that lucky. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not,” you quickly reassure him while blinking away tears, feeling numb. “And I don’t want to be cliche and tell you it’s what I need, Jake - because believe me, sometimes it feels like I need you like I need a Pilot G2 pen or the sun. But I can’t live like this. I can’t settle for just having part of you because that’ll be agonizing for me.”

Silence on the other end. “I hope you understand,” you quietly add. 

“I do, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” his voice is void of emotion. You try not to think too hard about it, try to transport yourself back to a better moment when he was right there in front of you with every feeling written on his tanned, chiseled face. 

Deep inhale. “Bye, Jake.”

AGE TWENTY-NINE (I cause no harm, mind my business, if our love died young, I can’t bear witness)

These gentrified tapas places are a menace to society. You shift uncomfortably on the cold, sad metal excuse for a barstool. This restaurant is noisy - glasses clinking together, patrongs cheers-ing to various occasions, champagne bottles popping open. Yet, the sound of the entrance dinging open is the only thing that makes you perk up, has you involuntarily glancing up hopefully in an attempt to manifest a familiar handsome pilot walking across the threshold to join you on your anniversary. But to your disappointment, it’s only a bunch of drunk bankers stumbling out. 

In the past year, you’ve found a number of ways to distract yourself from the pain of not having your best friend. As per Dr. Richard’s advice from your first therapy session, you tried your hardest to find comfort in solitude: catching films in the theater alone, wandering through new art exhibitions by your lonesome; you even attended a wine tasting in Brooklyn and ended up passing the time with a group of ladies who encompassed very similar energy to the Sex and the City Quartet (and you ended up getting some solid reassuring advice after you lamented your complicated friendship - Samantha’s carbon copy was all too ready to shit on Jake by the end of your tale).  

All in all, you’re content to be scoping out this restaurant solo, trying their featured cocktails and appetizers and people watching. You’re trying your best to convince yourself that you’re okay being where you are right now. The only thought that puts a damper on your night, sets your pride back a little is the realization that this might be the first October thirteenth you’ve spent alone in thirteen years. It shakes to your core, makes you flag down a bartender for a whiskey neat, but you calm down, take a deep breath, and let it out. 

Jake’s a different man, not the boy who sat in front of you in your beloved pizza shop with a crinkly-eyed smile, telling you “you’re just a cool person.” 

In the same way, you’re most certainly a different girl than the one who sat in front of him with a ten-color shuttle pen and bright eyes, one who was just grateful he’d seen a companion in you to begin with. 

You’re a strong, self-assured, career-driven woman now. You’ve been featured on a variety of articles ranging from the devastating 2016 US Presidential Election, to a Buzzfeed Guest Feature on what your favorite ink color said about you, to discussing culture and conflict in the Middle East. While Jake’s support from the very beginning was part of what motivated you, what spurred you on, you are the one who did all the hard work. You are powerful, driven, intelligent, sophisticated. 

You’re also drunk, and dialing a number you know by heart. 

“The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message or...”

After the beep, you steel yourself. “Hey, Jake,” you clear your throat, gripping your phone tightly in your palm and taking a deep breath. “I, uh... Just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary. Think it’s the first one I’ve spent without you in a while.” 

You pause, look around at the tapas bar as you try to gather your thoughts, wistfully eye the empty barstool next to you. 

“I know I said I needed some time before. And I’m glad you honored that - truly, from the bottom of my heart. Even though a part of me wanted you to change your mind and chose me over not having me. Does that make any sense?” 

Your eyes catch on the bartender who’s cleaning glasses with a towel a few feet away from you, catch him shaking his head slightly. 

“Do you mind?”you snap, and he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Quickly, he flashes you an apologetic smile before comically pretending to hear a patron calling out their order and dashing across the bar. 

You snort, shaking your head. “Sorry. Some asshole was just... Never mind. You would’ve hated this place, Jake. I mean, aside from nosy people, it’s got overpriced drinks with Edison lights hanging from the ceiling. And there’s no jukebox - they’re just playing top 40s hits over and over again. Like, this is the third time I’m hearing Shape of You and I got here less than an hour ago.” 

Again, you pause, feeling embarrassed at your incessant rambling. Debate whether to blab about what’s been plaguing your mind since you woke up this morning. “Sometimes I wish I never said anything and that we could’ve just stayed friends. I just don’t think that would’ve been fair to me - because I meant what I said, Jake. I’m in love with you. Even if we’re different people - I would’ve loved getting to know every version of you.” 

It feels like a breakthrough, saying the words out loud, realizing that things truly are going to be more different than they used to be. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re perpetually mourning a friendship, you don’t feel waves of anxiety that try to convince you that you conflated your friendship to mean more. You can breathe easily.

“I think I’ve realized that the person I am today is all a conglomeration, a constellation of every interaction I’ve had with other people. And for the most part, I am who I am because of our friendship, because of your presence in my life. So a part of me is finding it hard to let go of that and move on without you being so ingrained in me. But I’m trying. I’m going to therapy, at least,” you smile optimistically, wiping away the first tear you’ve let yourself shed today. 

“So rest assured, I’ll be okay without you, Seresin. In case you were worried. But no matter what, this day will always remain special to me. You’ll always be special to me.” 

AGE THIRTY (and it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, I’m right where you left me)

You don’t realize it’s the day of your anniversary until you catch a glimpse of the date on your phone, realize why you felt like you were missing something the entire day. At first, it sends a wave of anxiety over you, makes your stomach swoop like you missed the last step on the staircase. 

But as best as you can, you remind yourself that taking on this special day alone is part of your healing process, that sometimes we create our own heartbreak through expectation, and that it’s just a matter of managing your hopes, assuaging your guilt, honoring your friendship by yourself for the second year in a row. 

It’s taken time, but you’ve made your peace with the fact that Jake won’t be playing as active a role in your future as you’d hoped. Maybe you two can just be the type of friends who send each other Christmas cards and call on your birthdays. Years later, maybe you’ll finally settle down and find someone who will support you just as well as Jake did, who will treat you kindly and see you as more than a friend to hold hands with from time to time and look at your lips sometimes and give you piggyback rides when you’re too drunk. If you have kids, maybe you’ll have Jake over to meet your family, oblige him to regale them with tales of your friendship, send gift cards for their birthdays and talk about his time in the Navy - if they’re interested in hearing about Uncle Jake’s career path. 

That’s all. You settle for keeping him in your footnotes, for cherishing the memory of who he used to be. 

Even if you’ll always be in love with Jake, that doesn’t mean you have to wither away waiting for him. 

-- 

In the middle of catching up on some editing and shooting out some emails from the comfort of your plush couch, your phone rings with a familiar name proudly displayed at the top. Immediately, you narrow your eyes, wondering if he’s remembered or if it’s some weird fluke that he’s calling you on today of all days.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously. 

“Hey, darlin’,” you hear Jake’s easy tone flow through the speakers, and despite all the growth you’ve endured, despite all the lessons you’ve etched into your heart, your brain turns to mush. 

“Hi Jake,” you force out, feeling as nervous as you did that day you interviewed him at the pizza place. At times like this, you wish you had your old landline from back in the day so you could coil the cord around your fingers idly, distract your nerves momentarily from the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in two years. “How’ve you been?” 

“I’m alright,” His voice is stilted, slightly muffled. Sounds just as easy as you remembered it, “Just... Remembered what today was.” 

“It’s Saturday.” The quip rolls off your tongue before you can think any better of it - and you cringe inwardly at how rude you must have sounded. “I’m sorry, that was...” 

But Jake’s chuckling on the other end, a delightfully warm sound, one that pulls a surge of pride from deep within your chest. “Yeah. You're not wrong.” 

And just as quickly, it fades into the awkward silence - the kind you never used to have with Jake. Mentally, you flow through all the happenings in this past year, think about where his Ma told you he’d been last. 

“How’s San Diego?” - “Can you buzz me up?” you both speak at the same time, and his answer makes you freeze, makes time suspend for a few seconds as if you’re floating outside of your own body. 

“I’m outside your building, I think. Unless your Ma sent me the wrong address, which admittedly, I’d deserve but - " 

“- You’re in New York?” you ask, still in shock, finally feeling in control of your muscles and limbs and words. Hurriedly, you scramble off your couch and swipe up your empty tea mug, then rush to your kitchen to deposit it unceremoniously into your sink. 

You hear the sound of a car horn beeping on the street echoing both in real time and on the line, further sending your heart into a frenzy. “Yeah - you do live off 65th, right? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to just pop in like this - ”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you breathe out, making your way to your front door with your phone still sandwiched between your ear and your hand. “I just... Wasn’t expecting company.” 

He snorts on the other end. “S’not like the Queen of England is coming. It’s just me.” 

“Somehow, I think that’s worse,” you muse, leaning against your hallway wall and hovering your finger over the button to let him in. If hearing his voice has put you this much on edge, you can’t imagine what it’ll do to you if you see him in person. 

“Maybe so,” Jake agrees, and you can practically hear the forlorn smile in his voice. “Mind letting me up, though? Just wanted to talk. In person.” 

The reality of the situation crashes down on you - that Jake’s practically been AWOL for the past few years, that your friendship has felt one-sided and exhausting to try and keep up with, that you spent your last anniversary alone and sobbing into your cellphone So a part of you wants to turn him down, hustle him out of your safe space - but your heart pounds rapidly with its demands for answers, your brain implores you to hear him out. 

Without a second thought, you push the button and hear the resounding buzz on Jake’s side, followed by a “See you soon, sweetheart.” The line clicks. 

Mind going a million miles a second, you turn to glance at your reflection in the hall mirror that you’ve procrastinated hanging up for months now. You level a determined look at yourself, brush some crumbs off your sweatshirt and smooth some flyaways before pushing your shoulders back, standing up tall and proud in an attempt to exude confidence. 

Three heavy knocks sounding out at the door immediately makes your look turn panicked, sending you stumbling over your feet as you reach to grab the doorknob and pull it open to reveal Jake Seresin standing in your narrow apartment hallway. 

Not even five seconds have passed and you’re already annoyed with him. He’s still mind numbingly handsome: tall as ever, blonde hair still infuriatingly shiny and soft, green eyes catching the dim evening light, glimmering back at you like gemstones. It makes your stomach swoop, brings the butterflies fluttering back into your chest from where you’d banished them.

Asshole. 

“Hey,” he greets, quirks up a corner of his mouth into a half smile that would normally have you swooning if you weren’t already frozen. 

“Hi, Jake,” you manage out, eyes raking over his figure just to convince your mind that he’s really there, actually standing just a few feet in front of you. Shaking away the doubts, you step to the side, gesture for him to enter your apartment. 

It’s not the sound of his footsteps that convince you, nor is it the brief brush of his arm as he sidles into  your narrow apartment hallway or the unreal sight of how he fills up the space and how his shoulders stretch from wall to wall. It’s the familiar heavy scent that hits you - tobacco and vanilla - which makes your cheeks flush, your heart skips a beat. 

He’s really here. 

Gathering your wits, you follow him into your cramped living room, grateful that you’d done some vacuuming and tidying up that morning in an effort to banish all the anxieties and ruminations that come with this special day. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” you find your voice, snatch up an oversized throw to make some room on the couch. 

He nods, turns around to assess your space thoughtfully before settling himself into the cushions.“I got your voicemail,” he tells you. “From last year.” 

Oh. It suddenly feels bitter, leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “You didn’t call back?” you hedge, immediately going on the defense. Instead of sitting down next to him, you elect to slide into the armchair furthest away from him, an attempt to shield yourself from him. An attempt to avoid making the same mistake twice. 

“I was going away on assignment the next morning,” Jake explains quietly, patiently. He meets your disbelieving look with somber eyes. It only slightly alleviates the pressure building in your chest. “And... honestly, I didn’t want to worry you. It was one of those missions. The kind I wasn’t sure I would come back from - like, where they’re telling us to call home and lay down all the cards.” 

You pause for a moment, absorb his words and feel a twinge of hurt upon the realization that you weren’t kept in the loop, that you never even knew you stood a chance at losing him. Before the emotions can rattle you too much and send you spiraling with anxious thoughts and what ifs, he explains further.. 

“I thought I would spare you the details, spare you from having to prepare to lose me. I was okay with that decision up until the moment one of my engines failed and my jet was going down - and the one thing that flashed through my mind was that I wouldn’t get to talk to you again, or see you, or how when you win your Pulitzer you wouldn’t be able to call me to tell me the news or how I wouldn’t be able to hang up the print of your winning piece next to your union one,” his voice is shaking slightly, and you know if you even attempted to reply your words would quiver just as much. In this moment, you’re trembling with your hands folded over your eyes to hide the tears brimming. 

It’s a mix of sadness and anger and disappointment and you try your best to hold off on the tornado, but it rips your soul to shreds the more you realize the gravity of the situation. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you grit out, pressing your lips together to barricade the sobs. Your hands are tightly wrapped around a throw pillow, squeezing and kneading out your frustration on it. You can barely stand to look at him.  “Took you a near death experience to call me? You think I haven’t already put myself through the fucking wringer after feeling so guilty for cutting you off just because you were too scared to love me? And you almost died?” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake repeats, at least sounding sincerely apologetic. 

“I appreciate that, Jake,” you reply bitterly, then defeatedly toss the pillow to the side. “When did you even get back?” 

His jaw tenses slightly and he sighs, and you immediately feel triumphant for successfully frustrating him, as petty as it sounds. “Few months back. And I’m sorry for not calling you. I wanted to as soon as I got back, but I wanted to say all this face to face. And it took some time for me to figure out my shit, but I’m here now, if you’ll hear me out?” 

All you can do is nod, purse your lips and let him say his piece - there’s no pressure to forgive him or fall into his arms. 

“I think you were right,” Jake continues seriously. You dig your nails into your palms anxiously. Under any other circumstance, you would have loved hearing those words from anyone else. Not now. Not Jake. “You were right to call me out when you said I was letting the fear of becoming my dad hold me back from chasing what I want.” 

As your anger slightly dissipates, you think back to that moment - about how those were just a few of the words you wish you could snatch up out of your past and make them disappear. Your breath hitches. “I was a bit harsh - "

“- But you were right,” he interrupts. “And I think that’s another reason why I shut down, because you know me so well. After all these years, I think you know me better than I know myself.” 

You nod, not sure what exactly to say to that. It’s not like you can explain to him that you were so incredibly taken by him, that you held onto his every word and agonized over interaction in hopes of really getting to know your best friend. 

Jake goes on: “And you have to know that my dad broke Ma’s heart like it was nothing. Married for twenty years, dated for five years, friends for another ten years. Even after you add all that up, it’s still not enough to keep them together. He still went for the first temp who waltzed into his office, still fucked with both of them for months on end. If my parents couldn’t keep it together, how could anyone else?” 

You’re stunned, frozen in shock before you manage to gather your strength, pick up your thoughts and hurl them right back at him. Screw this defeatist attitude he’s picked up. “You have to understand that’s the nature of some relationships, Jake. Sometimes they’re not meant to last forever, sometimes people change - "

You halt, feel a wave of déjà vu. The words on the tip of your tongue sound eerily familiar to something that’s replayed in your mind for the past two years, and a couple puzzle pieces start to fit together. “Is this why you were spouting all of this bullshit at the wedding? About us changing?”

Suddenly, he launches up from the couch, walks two steps across the room and pivots on his heel to walk the two steps back in an attempt to furiously pace. He groans out exasperatedly, rakes a hand through his stupid perfect blond hair. “I mean... Yeah. It made sense at the time,” he admits. Briefly, you wonder when his nervous tics changed in the past few years, when did he switch from bouncing his legs under tables to wearing a path into carpets? 

People change indeed. In more ways than one. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you tell him matter-of-factly, and there’s no sugar-coating your words anymore. He makes a sound, as if he’s about to feign offense, but you power through. “People change all the fucking time, Jake. How the hell are we supposed to grow and become better versions of ourselves if we stay stagnant? Where’s the fucking story in that?” 

You huff out a laugh, don’t even wait for him to reply before continuing on a rant. He’s stopped pacing now, is looking at you, but you’ve sprung up to your full height to look at him straight on, deliver your words as firmly as you can. 

“People change, Jake, especially when they’re in relationships - it’s a matter of adapting, supporting them and loving your partner through it. And like, let’s be clear: I’ve changed a lot, too. Physically and emotionally - but I’m okay with it because I realize it’s made me become someone my sixteen year old self would be stoked to meet. And not just because I live in the city or because I have, like, two Montblanc pens - but because I’m working on these stories and they fly me out wherever to interview people, and I know I haven’t sent my stuff to you in a while, didn’t think you’d still want to read it - ” 

“- I’ve kept up,” Jake interrupts. You stop in your tracks, tilt your head to the side as you process this. “I wanted to read them.” 

“You have?” you ask dubiously, doubtfully. Hopefully. 

“‘Course,” he affirms, sends you a reassuring smile and stands up straighter, takes a step forward. “I mean, not while I was overseas, I read up when I got back. I really liked that one about the Obamas’ portraits. Thought that was pretty cool. But the one about the grassroots movements for peace in Afghanistan got me thinking. Like, obviously I was assigned there for a while, but didn’t really consider other things happening there - Actually, I had some questions for you, but we can talk about it later...” 

“Oh. Sure.” You’re slightly shocked at the confession, at the small vision that flashes through your mind of Jake typing your name into Google and catching up on your stories, determinedly following your career even during the most unstable moment in your friendship. It sparks hope in you, sends a wave of hope crashing down on you forcefully. “Wow. I didn’t think you… That means the world to me, Jake.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, excitement reverting back to a somber contemplative expression. “I understand what you’re saying about change,” he says hesitantly, rocks back on his heels. “And I think I’m starting to understand what you meant in your voicemail about the... conglomeration stuff. Loving every version of me. Because I really feel the same way about you.” 

It’s ambiguous, a little mysterious, his words a little stilted and broken, and you replay his words over and over to try and dig up the meaning behind them. But he’s taking another step towards you - if you reach out, you can certainly reach up and run your finger across the small bump in his nose from that football all those years ago. Hold his cheek in your hand like you've always wanted to.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he’s saying, and it makes your heart thud a million miles a minute, makes you want to pinch yourself. “I can’t remember it for the life of me. But I think about the moment I realized it - when you said it to me four years ago. And I regret not saying anything back every fucking day.” 

Your heart stumbles, crushes up against the front of your ribcage as it tries to peek out at the man you’ve loved since you were seventeen. “Oh, Jake,” your response rolls out along with two tears down your cheeks.“ It’s okay - “

The scent of vanilla tobacco hits you first, then his chest as he pulls you into a giant bear hug that envelops you in a warmth that could put both the sun and Texas bonfires to shame. Your face is pressed into his jacket and he’s talking, saying something that you don’t really register until you tilt your head up and dig your chin into his firm chest. 

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart,” the words burst forth. His hand’s resting gently on the small of your back - the warmth of his palm radiates comforting heat through your body that only multiplies as he pulls you into him. You stabilize your hands on his shoulders, crane your neck to look up at him and map out every part of his face - from the small lines in his forehead to the slope of his nose to the slight redness in his cheeks. “It’s okay if it’s too late, if you’ve moved on. I just don’t want to lose you again, don’t want to risk not talking to you, can’t - ”

“Of course I’m in love with you, stupid man,” the words come to you as easily as breathing does. The smile that spreads across his face brings back your favorite eye crinkles, carves a dimple into the corner of his mouth, makes it feel like you’re bathing in sunlight. And Jake wastes no time, doesn’t even hesitate before he’s breathing out a question and you're nodding tearfully and then he's cupping both of your cheeks gently and surging forward to press his lips to yours.

--

Jake tastes like cinnamon, just as you’ve always suspected. Aside from that, nothing about the way you love Jake is predictable. Nothing is ever steady, nothing is ever expected. Every moment with him brings forth a new set of revelations that drives you crazy, tears you to pieces. And somehow, it’s all incredibly worth it, worth the brief heartbreak, worth the years of hoping and waiting for him to join you. Because in the end, he made it. In this moment, it feels like everything is just right.

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #tgm fanfic #mine

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Zoro x Fem reader fluff! You know how Zoro has an unimaginable amount of debt towards Nami? Well, S/O has been paying Nami time after time to slowly repay Zoro’s debt because she loves him so much and she’s sweet enough to do that. Nami does decrease his debt to a point where even Zoro notices his debt decreased. When questioned, Nami confessed what S/O did for him and how she’s so sweet that she didn’t have to and Nami collected all the money to give to Zoro so he could make it up to S/O.

So cute omggggg. As you wish my lovely! I kept this as broad as possible, with an S/O who likes music, which I think is pretty broad, but if it isn't, don’t come at me pls I’m just a baby.

I think in One Piece, they have like CD players where you plug in headphones and you can carry it around, at least that's what was shown in the anime when people were lining up for Brook's concert after the time skip. I can't remember the name of it, but it used to be a popular thing. I made it a spring island because its (supposed) to be starting to be spring where I am, but we just started our second winter (as per usual with the midwest lol).

Warnings: paying off partner’s debt behind his back, cheating at GAME, Zoro being broke lol.

It's just fluff man idk what else to say.

“Witch.”

“Unsanitary marimo” Nami replied easily, keeping her focus on her magazine. Zoro’s eye twitched, but he held his tongue.

“Since we got loot at the last island, how much are you pulling out of my debt for my share?”

Nami’s ear perked at the word “loot”, and she did some quick mental calculations.

“Hmmm. All but your allowance. But I’ve been considering reducing that for you”

“Oi! Why would you cut my allowance?”

Nami shrugged.

“You only buy alcohol”

“So?”

“So you don’t need that much. Besides, after a couple months of a reduced allowance, you’d be down to at least an imaginable amount of debt.”

Zoro paused. Why was his debt going down? He wasn’t paying unless she demanded it. Had he paid that much? Or did they get that much loot at the last island?

“How much did we get at the last island?” He asked. Nami glanced up at him.

“It’s kinda creepy how you’re showing interest in money, but about 734,286 Beli” she said. Zoro only focused on the seven hundred thousand Beli. He wasn’t great at math, but knew when that was split between the crew, his share would hardly make a dent in his debt. So why?

“That doesn’t make sense” he muttered. Nami looked at him curious.

“No?”

“My debt was… I don’t even know how much. So why has it been going down?”

“Hmmm. Maybe I’m just generous!” She smiled sweetly at the swordsman, putting on her most innocent act. He narrowed his eyes at her. She knew something.

“What do you know.”

Nami glanced around, as if making sure anyone besides the swordsman was within earshot. Zoro furrowed his brow at the action.

“What is it?” He muttered, arms crossed. Nami sighed.

“Look. You should thank her by doing something nice for once. She’s so sweet and kind, and I have no idea how you ended up dating her but… I saved the money she’s been paying me for your debt. I thought maybe you knew, and I was going to smack some sense into you but she begged me to keep it quiet," Nami shrugged and picked at her nails before continuing, "Technically, it’s been going towards your debt but I figured I could be nice and generous for once, and ask you if you wanted to accept it. Once you found out, of course. But if you want, I can give it to you and you can spend it on her instead.”

Zoro’s jaw clenched, and he looked down. You had really been doing that? For him? He only mentioned being annoyed by that damn debt when Nami held it over his head when he had to do the dirty jobs for her. He could be mad at you for thinking he couldn’t handle it on his own, but honestly? He couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t be mad at you. He just ignored the debt, hoping it would eventually go away, and you were so kind to him. He hardly deserved you.

He scraped a hand through his hair, sighing as the other hand landed on his hip.

“I… I don’t know how to… I want to do something for her to pay her back. But what?”

Nami leaned back in her chair, gesturing for the swordsman to sit next to her. He slumped into the chair, brow furrowed as he thought.

“In a day or two, depending on the weather, we should make it to another island. Think about what she likes, not you. Go and enjoy it with her, together. Support her passions, and it’ll mean so much to her”

Zoro huffed.

“How much did that advice cost me?”

“Free for this time, only because of her. Not you. It would be 100 Beli otherwise”

“100?!!”

“I could make it 500.”

“You’re scamming me.”

“You’re the one who needs my help. Why should I give my help for free?”

Zoro sucked his teeth and stood to walk away but paused. The navigator looked up questioningly. He looked off into the distance, a stoic expression on his face.

“Thanks for the advice” he muttered. He obviously meant it, so Nami smiled in return, and he walked off to find you.

He found you playing a card game with Luffy and Usopp, laughing as you laid down your winning hand. The other two complained loudly, groaning and flopping back. Luffy accused you of cheating, and Usopp backed him up.

"Me? Cheating? Never" you teased, giggling. You looked around as you heard heavy footsteps behind you, eyes landing on your boyfriend. You turned back to the other two in front of you and stood, producing a card from its hiding place, tossing it on the pile of cards.

"You guys are pirates, think of this as training to learn when someone is cheating at a card game"

"Hey! You were cheating!"

"No fair!"

"Like I said- training, not cheating"

Zoro stood behind you arms crossed and a smirk on his face at your antics. You turned around, hands laced behind your back, trying to look innocent. You batted your lashes at him, smiling sweetly.

"Right, Zoro?"

He looked at you and grunted, seemingly unfazed by your act. Inside, his heart skipped a beat with how cute you looked.

"Don't tease them. They're idiots"

"Hey!" "We're not idiots!" Luffy and Usopp protested in tandem. You sighed, pouting at him. He blinked at you, keeping his face neutral despite his sudden desire to kiss the pout right off your face.

"C'mon. I wanna ask you something" Zoro said instead, turning on his heel and leading the way. You followed, but not before turning and tossing the last card you cheated with on the pile. Luffy pulled his eye and stuck his tongue out, and Usopp blew a raspberry at you. You stuck your tongue out in retaliation, and skipped off after your boyfriend.

You followed him, unsurprisingly, to the crows nest, scampering after him on the ropes. You were a little nervous. Zoro wanting to ask you something could range from giving your humble opinion on a sword technique, to if you loved him even though he was aggressive. You simply didn't know. You entered the crows nest with practiced movements, eyes falling on the swordsman sitting on a bench near an open window.

You approached him, slightly hesitant.

"What did you want to ask me?"

He hummed, acknowledging your question and indicating he was constructing his answer. You furrowed your brow. He hardly ever thought through his words. He spoke once you had sat next to him.

"What do you know about the next island?"

You cocked your head.

"Nothing really just that it's a spring island... should I know something?"

"Just curious. Is there something you've been wanting to do lately? Like something that can really only be done on an island?"

You thought. Nothing in particular came to mind. But maybe...

"I uh. I want to buy some music to listen to. I know we have Brook, and he's amazing but... I dunno. I miss my music player a lot, and hearing whole bands at once and different singers... I mean Brook is a great singer and he does different genre's, but sometimes you want to shake things up so you're not listening to the same artist all the time, ya know? But I usually end up buying some other things I need instead" you shrugged. You looked at Zoro. He wasn't looking at you, instead was looking out the window. He grunted.

"Show me"

"Show you what?"

"Show me what you listen to, and what you like. I'm not really familiar with music all that much, having not listened to it much growin up or... ever really."

Excitement grew with every word. He wanted you to introduce you to music? To the music you listened to and liked? What would he like? Would anything surprise you? Warmth spread from your chest, through your body, and you bounced in your seat, a grin curving your lips.

"Really?! Oh my goodness there's so much to show you! I can't tell if you'd like softer music like R&B or maybe you'd like hard rock... I'm not sure you'd like pop punk but you might! Maybe some pop songs, but you might be picky about that. French jazz might be meh for you, but it might remind you of Sanji so maybe we should stay away from that... Maybe some other jazz? Or probably something with a good beat. Like workout music?" You babbled on excitedly, pondering the possibilities. You continued talking, not completely sure if Zoro was listening, but you didn't mind.

A small smile formed on Zoro's lips as he listened. Nami had been right, frustratingly, but this way, he would get to see a side of you he hadn't yet. Even if he didn't like the music you did, experiencing it would be good for him, and more importantly, you'd be happy. He saw the little scrunch of your nose that you got when you were really happy and excited, and he huffed a laugh.

"and maybe- what are you laughing at?" you looked at him, smiling still as you interrupted your chatter. He finally faced you fully, leaning his head on his hand, his arm propped on the back of the bench.

"Just you. You're cute when you're all excited about something. You get a little scrunch in your nose when you smile when you're happy like this."

Your hand rose self-consciously to cover your nose. He gently smacked it away with one hand, swooping in to kiss the tip of your nose gently.

"Don't cover it. It's cute"

You blushed, flustered. A thought suddenly occurred to you.

"Why are you asking about what I want to do on the next island? Normally, we do what catches your interest, which don't get me wrong, is typically entertaining, but... why the change?"

"You."

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

"Me?"

"You've been paying my debt to Nami"

"Whaaa??? Psshh nooo~ I never. I mean. I would, but I haven't?"

Zoro raised a singular brow. You swallowed, eyes flicking to the side.

"That so?"

"Uhh. Yes?"

"You are really a terrible liar. How can you cheat so well at card games but you can't lie to save your life?" he teased, a rare soft smile curving his lips as he spoke.

"You're intimidate me and fluster me at the same time! I can't help it!" you whined, before shyly asking, "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at you for taking care of me?"

He ruffled your hair, and you squawked in indignation.

"Thank you, really" he said softly. You looked at him, smiling.

"You're welcome"

The two of you sat in easy silence, listening to the waves and distant chatter of Usopp and Luffy.

"So music, huh? What do you like?"

You wiggled excitedly, chattering away with Zoro asking the occasional question, even as he started training again.

~~~

"You're buying this?? Zoro, hon, I can get it" you pleaded, eyeing your pile of CD's and your brand new player.

"Nope"

"You can hardly afford alcohol! How could you afford this?"

Zoro ignored you, producing some other CD's you had reluctantly put back earlier, unable to afford them.

"These too" he muttered to the cashier. You repeatedly smacked your boyfriends arm, getting rougher with each one. He finally caught your hand.

"Stop hitting me, woman! Nami gave me the money you paid her for my debt, and now I'm spending it on you! Accept my love, damnit!"

You froze, looking at him in awe and surprise. You started as the cashier cleared his throat.

"Th-that'll be uh... the a-amount you s-see right there... s-sir" the poor teen stuttered, obviously intimidated by the swordsman. You would've snorted had you not been filled with love and awe for your boyfriend. Zoro paid the cashier and took hold of the bags. You followed closely, still aware of yourself enough to know he would get lost without you. Again.

"Thank you, Zoro" you finally said. He smirked at you.

"Of course."

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #fluff #mugiwara kaizoku #fem reader #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #no use of y/n #no smut #one piece nami #nami headcanons

[keuwibloom]

I've had a thought, mainly about Blue and Horror, and about their shared position as major players among the Star Sanses and Bad Sanses, and the UTMV in general. But at the same time they're also usually a big part of AU crossovers where the multiverse isn't as involved, or is only ever referenced vaguely (for example, its just the original, Fell, Swap, Horror, and Fellswap brothers being in the same household).

What would happen if those different sides of them were combined?

More under the cut!

SO everything is generally the same among the Star Sanses and Bad Sanses (and Error, he's not on either side but he's there lol) BUT Blue and Horror (who i'll be referring to as Axe in this) are the only ones with actual AUs to go back to AKA they're the only true in!codes (Ink and Error being true out!codes; Dream, Nightmare, Killer, Dust, and Cross are considered out!codes bc they're the sole remaining survivors of their respective AUs).

Blue goes back to his AU regularly bc its just regular Underswap and he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys being a Star Sans, but Axe doesn't really want to go back since Horrortale is kinda not good but he feels guilty leaving his Papyrus behind. He sees Nightmare and the gang as family too, but he can't just leave behind his lil bro to that.

And Blue and Axe bond over that; over their weird, uniquely similar situation of still having something to go back to despite having responsibilities and roles so much bigger than their own universes now (let's say that the two groups have formed a truce at this point).

AND THEN you know those stories where different Sanses and Papyruses get transported to the original universe and get stuck there for the forseeable future? That happens, but the Swap Sans and Horror Sans there are Star Sanses Swap and Bad Sanses Horror.

This version of the others (UT, UF, Swap Pap and Horror Pap, maaaybe Fellswap too) are unaware about the wider multiverse. They know and have confirmation that the multiverse exists but they have no knowledge of Ink, Error, the apple twins etc. Blue and Axe kept their brothers completely in the dark about all of that.

Why can't the others just fetch them and return them to their original AUs? Let's say that the thing that caused the accidental transportation made the code of the classic universe corrupt, so that there's no AU hopping for everyone currently there.

I don't know if something like this has already been done, but I thought it would've been an interesting concept to explore! Lemme know if you guys have any thoughts about this!

#undertale #utmv #undertale multiverse #undertale au #underswap #horrortale #swap sans #swap!sans #underswap sans #horror sans #horror!sans #horrortale sans #star sanses #bad sanses #keuwi talks #listen ive been brainrotting about this since last night #what started out as a little haha what if thought turned into me seriously considering this au #parallel synthesis

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

#doppel rambles #doppel draws #cotl bishops #cotl shamura #cotl kallamar #cotl leshy #cotl heket #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl au #cotl #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb heket #cult of the lamb leshy #cult of the lamb fanart #cult of the lamb shamura #cult of the lamb narinder #cult of the lamb kallamar #cult of the lamb #fallen crown au

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Another Interesting Buddie Parallel 👀

So friends I just came across something super interesting by accident and I thought I’d share.

Yesterday I was reading a book called Puck Pact by Kristen Granata. The story is a marriage of convenience that involves a golden retriever mmc who is a hockey player, who happens to also be a single dad to a lovely 4 year old girl. And a black cat fmc who is an art curator. She’s all about sleeping around and one night stands, doesn’t wanna settle down and he’s a complete romantic at heart. Wants to marry for love. But alas a problem arises and he needs to get married to assure he’s left with his dead parents’ villa in Italy since it’s the only thing he has from them.

The mmc, Alex and fmc, Aarya, have wild sexual tension and he’s turned her down a few times bc they wanted different things. He also had to take into consideration his daughter Giuliana. Long story short, he needed a fake wife, she needed money to open her own art gallery. One thing lead to another and boom, they got married. But with that fake marriage came along real feelings. Feelings that they both eventually stop fighting. Now why am I making a post about some random book?

Well as I was reading, I got to a part where Alex gets hit really bad on the ice, his helmet flies off and he cracks his skull on the ice. She is watching the entire thing happen and she loses it, tries to get to him but they take him away. She’s inconsolable, as predictable, and won’t leave his side. But she knows she has to go him to his little girl and assure that she’s taken care of. Remind you guys of anything??

She eventually is the one who tells Giuliana the bad news as she takes it like how a little kid would. Assures Aarya that her daddy will wake up. They even go visit him a few times. Kinda sorta how Buck was the one who felt like it was his job to tell Chris about his father being shot.

The part that really raised my brows is what happened a few days of waiting for Alex to wake up. Alex’s mother figure, who’s also his daughter’s nanny, tells Aarya that he recently changed his will to include Aarya as Giuliana’s legal guardian should anything ever happen to him.

This is the part that made me scratch my head bc it’s…literally the same fucking thing that happened in 911 with Buck and Eddie. Like almost identical even with the wording and shit. And that entire will reveal was meant to showcase them as just being “platonic” best friends. But like here’s a romance novel where the author has incorporated this very scene into a couples own relationship. The couple essentially being the heterosexual version of Buck and Eddie lol.

So all this to say, isn’t it interesting how they keep writing romantically coded scenes for Buck and Eddie, and we know this bc here’s an actual romance novel that has the same fucking scene with a couple, but they’re meant to be best friends. Like how much more proof does one need to see that these two are heavily written romantically and it’s only a matter of time until they actually get together. It’s a love story we’re watching unfold, albeit slowly, but it’s unfolding nonetheless. We just have to be a bit more patient.

#buddie #puck pact #romance novels #I’ve been reading A LOT lately and this was the one book that really made me go hmmmmm wtf #jujus having thoughts #if anyone takes the time to read this just know I’m kissing you on the forehead #911 on abc

[papercorgiworld]

You are the prize

Sebastian Sallow

Imelda uses you to convince Sebastian to put in some extra effort for the upcoming quidditch games, but there may be a little misunderstanding about what exactly Imelda promised.

Warning: a little bit of smut, but nothing too bad

I found this. I wrote it months ago, but never posted it. Kinda wanted to post it a few weeks ago, but never did, but since this nice anon asked for more Hogwarts Legacy fics I thought that throwing this online was the least I could do. I find that it's written differently from how I write today, but that can just be my imagination. Also I have no clue how the HL fandom is doing, but Happy readings!

Anne was back. Ominis and Sebastian were as close as ever. All was well. Except for Imelda! Slytherin had had a bad quidditch year. If Slytherin wanted to have a chance of winning the house cup they needed to win the last three games or it would be the greatest Slytherin loss in Hogwarts history.

Sebastian had rejoined the team after Anne came back to Hogwarts, but he still wasn’t on top of his game. Imelda was convinced that if Sebastian focussed more, he could be the game changer. Which is why she was about to make him a deal that he could not refuse. Sebastian and Ominis were on their way to potions when Imelda grabbed Sebastian’s cloak bringing both boys to a stop.

“We have to win the last three games.” Imelda started and Sebastian rolled his eyes. Every training she had made him question why he started playing again. Imelda ignored the eye roll and continued. “Which means that you can’t be messing around anymore during training. And, more importantly, that ‘you’ need to bring in the victories.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “I believe you to be the only one that can somewhat keep up with me...” Sebastian was somewhat charmed by the compliment. “If only you put in some effort.” Sebastian rolled his eyes once more. Unbelievable, this woman.

“I’ve been doing my best, Imelda. This just isn’t our year. Two good players can’t win a game.” Sebastian argued annoyed. Imelda huffed. “I’m a ‘great’ player, thank you very much. And! I believe that two players can win a game if motivated.” Sebastian sighed and was about to simply turn on his heels. “I’m going to make you an offer.” Sebastian’s curiosity was stronger than his urge to leave. “I know you have a crush on y/n.” Sebastian’s eyes shot up to Imelda. How did she find out? “How about I arrange something?” Imelda continued and raised an eyebrow.

“So… if we win the next game you’ll arrange something?” Sebastian asked curiously. “If we win the next ‘three’ games, I’ll arrange something.” Imelda corrected. “Three?” Sebastian laughed, but Imelda kept her serious face up. “We win three games and you get something good.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “Good as in *makes kissy face*?” Now Imelda rolled her eyes. “Yes. A little make out session for you… but only if we win all three games.”

Sebastian was definitely interested. “And you can arrange that?” Sebastian questioned. “Yes.” Imelda said and she offered her hand. Sebastian thought about it for a moment, but he couldn’t resist and shook Imelda’s hand. Imelda nodded and left. “Did Imelda just sell off her own friend to win a quidditch game?” Ominis spoke up after witnessing everything in silence. “Three games.” Sebastian corrected with a playful smile on his face.

Imelda was already working on part two of her plan: convincing you. Normally she would believe it impossible to arrange someone for Sebastian, but she knew that you had a crush on him. So she wasn’t really using you, she was helping you. Merlin would be so proud of my scheme, she thought to herself as she walked up to you. “Ready for a game of chess?” Imelda asked you.

Imelda had lost two times in a row. To your surprise she wanted to play a third game. “Third time’s a charm right.” Imelda laughed. You simply smiled, she was acting a bit off today. “How about I throw in my famed potions flash cards.” Your eyes widened. Those could really save your grade. Too good to be true. “What’s the catch?” You asked a bit worried. “If you lose, you might need to kiss a guy.” “What?!” You yelped. You eyed her for an explanation. “In three weeks I might need you to kiss a guy. That is if you lose. If you win you get my potions flash cards.” You pursed your lips as you thought about it. You really needed those cards. “Who’s the guy?” You asked as you considered your options. “Why? Is there someone you would like to kiss?” Imelda asked with a raised eyebrow. “No. Just curious.” You tried to play it cool.

As planned Imelda won and the three weeks passed quickly.

Before the final game started Imelda came up to you in full quidditch gear. “About that game of chess we played three weeks ago…If Slytherin wins, go straight to the Slytherin common room.” Imelda gave you a devilish smile and walked away. You were left somewhat stressed out. Imelda walked towards the Slytherin team and went to stand next to Sebastian. “We win and you get your kiss from y/n.” Imelda said while focussed on the quidditch pitch in front of her. “Making-out session, you mean.” Sebastian corrected. Imelda frowned, did she really promise him that? Well, too late to change terms now. “Yeah, whatever.” She nonchalantly answered.

*** After the game ***

Imelda had pointed Sebastian towards their common room and as excited as Sebastian was to claim his well earned prize, when he stood in front of the door his courage and confidence was nowhere to be found.

His heartbeat was racing as he went down the stairs. You stood there nervously fumbling with the fabric of your tie. You looked up at Sebastian and your face heated up. “W-why are you here?” You stuttered. “I’m here to collect my prize.” Sebastian said suggestively with a smug smile on his face. With fake confidence he walked over to you. “Prize?” You questioned, finally putting together the pieces of Imelda’s scheme.

You snapped out of your thoughts and noticed that Sebastian stood only centimeters/inches away from you. With a gentle finger he lifted your chin up and leaned in. You kissed back softly. You parted after a moment, too quickly for Sebastian’s liking. “So, that’s that.” You said and smiled awkwardly as you took a step back. “Auch.” Sebastian said quietly. “What?” You immediately asked. “Am I such a bad kisser?” You shook your head. “No, not at all.” Sebastian smiled and again closed the space between you two.

“Good, because I was promised a make out session.” He said right before leaning in to kiss you once more. This time you parted your lips slightly and Sebastian was eager to accept the invitation. One hand slipped to your lower back pressing your body against his, while his other hand held your head gently.

As Sebastian parted, he saw hesitation and doubt in your eyes. “I don’t know what Imelda told you, but if you don’t want to do this then you don’t have to.” He stayed close to you but his eyes were sincerely looking for your approval. “Imelda said just a kiss.” You spoke softly. Sebastian’s heart dropped and his eyes showed clear disappointment. “Then let’s leave it at that.” He said as he took a step back and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… uh, kiss and stuff.” You confessed. “I’m - I’m just a bit insecure, I guess.” Sebastian laughed, not the reaction you were hoping for. He cupped your cheek. “There is no reason for you to be insecure. You are a sweet and intelligent witch, and you’re so beautiful.” While he said that last bit he shamelessly traced your figure. “So, do you want to continue?” He asked with a smile tugging his lips. You pulled him closer using his quidditch cloak and kissed him. Your fingers messing up his already messy hair even more.

When you parted for air, Sebastian saw an opportunity to lift you up and place you on a nearby table. He found his way between your legs and pushed himself as close to you as possible. Passionate kisses turned into sloppy ones as you both became more desperate for each other. His lips left yours only to leave more sloppy kisses on your jaw and down to your neck. As he pushed himself even closer you could feel just how hard he was through his pants. You enjoyed the feeling and you spread your legs slightly wider. Your fingers clinging to the fabric of his sweater, while your other hand continues to further mess up his hair. A soft moan escapes your lips, making him kiss you more aggressively than before and presses his forehead against yours. “Y/n, you’re quite the prize.” He says in a husky voice and one of his hands cups your breast. Even though you’re still fully clothed the feeling of his hand and the soft squeeze drives you mad with desire.

“Sebastian, we should go somewhere more private before-” You didn’t need to finish that sentence. Sebastian was more than ready to take you to this room and get rid of every piece of clothing. So he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

However, as Sebastian is about to lead you to his room. The common room door opens and you hear Imelda. “Are you two going to join the Slytherin victory party in the Great Hall?” She eyes the both of you as your guilty faces betray what you were up to. “Sebastian, I see you have collected your prize. So, now both of you come with me. I don’t want to be a godmother in nine months.” She raised an eyebrow and pointed to the exit.

There was no arguing with Imelda so defeated, Sebastian and you head up the Slytherin stairs with Imelda behind you. Along the way to the party Sebastian grabs a hold of your hand and gives you a sweet peck on the lips. Imelda groans and looks at you. “Enough smooching! He helped win three games, not the quidditch world cup.” You smile at Sebastian like a love struck idiot and smirks, holding you close. I won something way better than the Quidditch World Cup.

#slytherin #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #papercorgiworldwritings #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x reader

[osaka-lilac]

Asking you to kindly elaborate on the strollonso football au:

hello raapija my beloved, i would love to elaborate <3

for those out of the loop, refer to my tags on this post!

warning: i am an american with a incredibly basic understanding of footy ("soccer"). there is a reason the actual talk of any gameplay is basic and limited

fernando is this new guy to Lawrence Stroll's footy team right. (because in every universe, lawrence has to own a Team.) i can imagine he's some draft pick from spain for a new striker or something like that. possibly some trade, maybe a mid-season exchange (they do that in american football but idk if they do that in footy) those who know specifics of positions in footy please let me know your thoughts on what position fernando would play

lance: couldn't give two shits about footy. he's seen maybe once in a blue moon on the sidelines tagging along, and he's known for being visibly bored or on his phone during matches. (he has the Pout Blast 3000 for this.)

the reputation he receives from fans is much like the perceived impressions he gets irl: some spoiled kid who shouldn't be there. he's more into hockey than any match his dad's team could ever play.

now when fernando shows up its like a fucking slap to the face. like. "holy fuck i didn't think they could be this hot" type beat.

for the first time, lance shows up to a team practice with his father, not just a match. but he's really not there for the team: he is enamored by fernando. his speed. he's a sly yet devilishly handsome fucker with this wicked grin when he knows he's tricked his opponent yet again, and lance is obsessed.

not only does he start going to way more matches. he also starts showing visible interest and gets invested. and he gets loud. the mumbles online about his "spoiled reputation" turn to joy. he becomes a meme of the team for a few weeks after a clip of him getting frustrated after a poorly-called card is given to fernando ends up going viral.

and maybe this entire time, fernando has been watching this young boy from afar. he totally believes he can't be with his literal manager's young son and jeopardize his spot on the team and a shot at glory. and maybe he believes that lance initially isn't interested. but maybe when he sees lance become more invested in the team, he figures he might have a chance. he just can't figure out why lance has become so invested in what was, quite frankly, a very short amount of time.

so maybe fernando's on the side for a while in a practice. lance is there, but he seems distant. not in the game. not really watching the drills by the other players with much enthusiasm. and fernando's a smart man. and he puts some pieces together in his brain. and makes a move.

he comes up to lance and asks to talk with him once practice is done. when all the other players are gone. in the locker room. of course lance agrees

flash forward a bit. n lance is like. hanging out by the exit outside of the locker room. he counts all the players. and when there's only one left. he goes inside. finds fernando sitting on one of the benches, still in his kit.

they get to talking. what lance does outside of being at games, (i can imagine him being a student but i don't have the will to kin assign him a major right now), what his favorite hockey team is (habs. of course) and of course, the loaded question:

"lancito, what's gotten you so interested in the team now?"

of course, lance doesn't really respond to this, kinda dances around the question. he gets flustered. he doesn't want to be found out. what if he sees right through him, what if he already knows, what if he tells his dad??

fernando leans in slightly, and slides his hand over lance's hip. he cups his chin softly, and slowly turns lance's head to look at fernando straight on.

"be honest, niñito."

and when has lance ever been anything but honest.

#and then they FUCK NASTY ABOUT IT IN THE LOCKER ROOM #strollonso #thank you so so much raapija i have been vibrating to write something lately #asks #answered #my fics #(in a way. just tagging it that so i dont lose it in the swarm of posts)

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Loading...

Some more supplementary material for the Frat Boy! Au, this time starring blorbo of the hour: Kento Nanami

Because he’s been heavy on my mind. Starting with his basic info!

Nanami grew up very middle class, not as poor as Suguru or Ryomen, but nowhere near as well off as Satoru.

He’s a business major not because he wants to, but because he feels he has too. If he had it his way, he would be a culinary student. But according to his father, there's no money in being a line cook, so accounting it is. 

Still, he hopes to use his degree to open his own restaurant one day. His father would never approve of a line cook for a son, but maybe Nanami could sell him on a business owner for a son. 

He says the main reason he joined the ABO frat was to try and make business connections, he knew that some people would hire one applicant over another just because they were alumni of the same fraternity. In reality though, he’d have more room in the frat and unlimited access to the kitchen. 

His room is full of plants. Plants of all kinds everywhere, including some herbs. It used to kinda annoy Ryomen (his roommate) but, he’s grown to actually kinda appreciate it. It makes the room feel less dead. 

Phenomenal cook who can not bake to save his life. Cooking is an art but baking is a science and somewhere along the way he fucks it up every time. Be it mixing the batter too much or too little, not letting it sit long enough or letting it sit too long- he doesn't know. He can handle box cake mix that’s about it. 

Now if you want a steak cooked to perfection with perfectly roasted veggies and the creamiest mashed potatoes you've ever put in your mouth on the side he’s you’re guy. If you want an authentic lasagna with homemade everything including the noodles and sauce, he can do that for you. Do not ask him to make bread. 

He’s also insanely good at fighting games. Every version of Nanami in my heart is a God when it comes to fighting games, there is not a universe in which Nanami exists where he doesn’t dominate at Tekken, argue with the wall if you don’t agree.

Adding to that, he’s also in love with D&D. He’s a forever DM that spends hours of time planning campaigns, hours he should be spending on his school work but shhhh. If you really want to make him swoon, offer to let him be a player in a campaign. He’d pull out a ring on the spot. 

That being said, I think it’s time to get into some relationship headcanons ;)

HE’S A TSUNDERE! Look at that man, he has such big Tsundere energy.

Out of all his frat brothers, Nanami is probably the one that gets laid the least. Not from a lack of opportunity, nay nay, women (and men) throw themselves at him all the time. He’s just picky and not a fan of being touched by stragers. 

You though? You’re different (of course you are, you’re the main character!) The two of you really started to click after you had to work on a pretty big project together. Little things you did softened his heart for you.

Small things like asking him more about his D&D campaign plans, excitedly showing him pictures of the plants that you kept in your dorm, and offering to help him out in the kitchen. Little moments of quality time and tenderness while you were working on this project together nurtured his small crush into full blown butterflies when you were around.

He finally admitted to himself he was in love with you when you beat him in Street Fighter. He wasn’t used to losing at fighting games. You bragged about using his tips against him (you listened to what he said) and laughed about the weeks you spent training to destroy him (otherwise known as taking a genuine interest in his hobbies.) 

He asked you out on a date that night and you were taken completely off guard! You had no idea the fool even liked you! He was cold on the best of days, spending more time scowling at his notebooks than listening to what you said (or so you thought.) He never contacted you unless it was in regards to your project, and most of the time you spent hanging out outside of it was just because you had become friends with his frat brothers and happened to be at the house. You mean he liked you?! 

Of course you said yes, if for no other reason than to see where the hell this goes. You were 40% sure it was a prank, but hey- a free meal was a free meal. It helped he was hot as hell, what was the harm in one date?

You saw a whole new side of Kento Nanami that night. He was warm and attentive, and fucking hilarious when he wasn’t just keeping all of his jokes to himself. 

It was a simple date. A moonlit picnic in the nearby park, one where he brought his laptop and used his phone hotspot so the two of you could watch movies together. 

That was the night when you found out Kento Nanami considered himself to be a hopeless romantic. 

When he took you back to your dorm, he walked you to the door and actually asked if he could kiss you goodnight. 

And now you’re both smitten! 

Once you’re officially his girlfriend, You’re gonna find out he’s genuinely pretty chill. Happy to give you your space and recognize you’re a person outside of your relationship. That being said, let some asshole start getting a little too comfortable with you at a part and he’s quick to throw hands.

You would think nerdy little Nanami wasn’t that good in a fight, but nay nay, he was forced to play football in highschool and will leave a bastard concussed. 

He says he’s not a cuddler, but every time you sleep in his bed you wake up with him cuddled close to you. 

Nanami loves kisses, and is always planting them on you when you’re in kissing range. Your lips, cheeks, forehead, everything is fair game. 

You’re the only person in the world other than like, his parents that can call him Kento. He’s always gone by his last name, to the point that his first name makes him feel like he’s in trouble. Only authority figures use it when they’re pissed off at him. But it hits him different when it comes from your lips. When you say it, it feels tender and intimate. It’s the closest he gets to liking his name.

He always tries to make time for you and your relationship. Even if that sometimes means that your date nights are just study dates, he always strives to make you feel like a priority. 

He’s a soft guy that falls in love easily. You may not know it yet, but he has full intentions to marry you after graduation. A fact his frat brothers are quick to tease him about, while also making him promise to make them groomsmen. 

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk frat boy au #frat boy! nanami #frat boy nanami #nanami headcanons #kento nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader fluff

[k1ngdom-of-thieves]

May I request gender neutral or female anglerfish reader with Octavinelle so Jade,Floydand Azul?

( they can hunt things twice their size (including eels and octopus)and most of them are actually very small so maybe in their human form they are a lot shorter than the other merfolk, they can make their own light, sharp teeth but also since they are deep sea creatures, the boys wouldn't really know much about them, mostly since they are closer to the surface than the reader). I hope this made sense!!

Thank you so much for giving a little description I would’ve been so lost on where to start. How you enjoy!

Octavinelle + Anglerfish!Reader

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was surprised to see someone he hadn’t met before with the other merfolk. At first, he thought it was because you grew up closer to the surface and was incredibly shocked when he found that you grew up farther from the surface than he did.

During Beanfest, Azul was a little worried about how you’d deal with the opposing farmers. His jaw almost hit the floor when he saw you throw the farmers into each other with ease.

Showing you to his family was a lot easier than he was expecting. They loved you and really enjoyed hearing about how different your life was compared to theirs.

He’d love if you would want to work in the lounge. Not just because he’d get another worker. Since you’d probably be the most well-adjusted person with him, he’d trust you with a lot more than what he does with others.

“Can I speak with you for a moment? Would you be willing to use your strength to put up some of the new decorations? You’d be compensated, of course.”

Jade Leech

Jade had a feeling you were from somewhere completely different from where he was from. What tipped him off was you saying that you had your own source of light. While the reef he lives in is fairly dark, was still some fragments of light that peeked through.

He always knew you were a special case among the merfolk. When he had the “lucky” opportunity to be your opponent during Beanfest, was able to see first hand how hard you could hit when giving it your all.

He finds your ability to create your own light source to be very interesting as well as amusing. He chuckles to himself when he sees you accidentally spook Azul when he walks around the lounge.

The both of you together have the most unbelievable ability to freak out anyone and everyone that’s in the room with you guys. Azul feared that it might bring down sales but there was a surprisingly good reception behind people being terrified while eating.

“We make a rather terrifying pair, wouldn’t you say? I’m kidding, but I do quite like the idea of being associated with you.”

Floyd Leech

I’m just gonna be honest, Floyd probably doesn’t think it’s that interesting the first time you tell him. He thought it was kinda cool but didn’t put too much thought into it.

That all changed when he saw you take down two spelldrive players on your own during their practice. Now he was running up to you like “Hey lightbulb! That was awesome!” And “You wanna practice with me sometime?”

Be prepared to have him appear at random times just to see if you’ll glow on accident. You probably won’t but he still wants to try anyway.

He loves dragging you along with his deep-sea shenanigans, like bullying Azul and scaring some land dwellers. Rip Ace and Deuce. He’s sure that you’ll fit right in with his family and childhood friends. Well, more than most people would anyway.

“Heyy, nightlight. Feel like taking a dive? Azul said I couldn’t chase the customers so I felt like chasing the fish instead. Wanna join?” he might end up chasing you btw.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #floyd leech