#which isn’t a bad thing I guess it’s just like. I don’t want to feel like some messed up person I guess

[general-fanfiction]

Foreign Exchanges. (Anthony Vaughn x Reader.)

Summary: Moving school in the middle of the year is never easy. Let alone from an entirely different country. Despite Y/N trying to garner the least amount of attention possible, she still manages to catch the eye of a certain brunette.

Word Count: 1.5k

Gif Not Mine . Requests are open!

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: My first Ant fic and I’m debating making this a series but you’ll have to let me know what you think! Anyway just a short one to start us off but there’ll be more soon. Don’t forget requests are open!

“I’d like you all to offer a warm welcome to our new student Y/N Y/L/N, she’s moved here all the way from the UK! So let’s show her some of that Hartley spirit.” The teacher, who introduced herself as Jojo, announces to the class. All of them staring at me with blank stares. “Go ahead and say a few words.”

She nudges my shoulder gently before I can decline the offer. Encouraging smile on her face. There are no smiles from my classmates however, only bored faces who couldn’t be less interested in my arrival. For which I’m grateful. I’d seen this school on the news prior to my enrolment, I know these students are brutal. I mean, a sex map? Dad wasn’t too happy about sending me here though he didn’t really have a choice, no other schools were admitting students this late into the term.

“Um hi, I’m Y/N. It’s good to be here I guess.”

“Does anybody have any questions for Y/N?” Jojo offers, attempting to find a way for the class to get to me.

Numerous hands raise and I let out a groan internally. It’s bad enough that I’m stood at the front of the classroom like a new shiny toy but to now be subject to whatever ridiculous questions these teens can come up with is a new form of torture. One that I am really not looking forward to.

Jojo points to her first student, allowing them to be the first to ask. “Why don’t you have a proper British accent?” The girl seems genuinely curious, eyes focused on me as she combs her fingers through her orange hair. Stickers adorn her face along with colourful eyeshadow to match her bright outfit. She has a gentle aura surrounding her, which makes me relieved as I realise her question wasn’t meant in malice and more so pure interest. Maybe these kids won’t be so bad?

“Um, I think the accent you’re think of is the Queen’s English. There isn’t many people that talk like that really, maybe a few down south but I grew up in the North East. None of us talk posh.” I tell her, watching as she seems to take notes as I speak.

“Thank you Quinni, Spider what about you?” Jojo asks, pointing to the tall blonde that is hunched over at the back of the class.

His eyes flicker up to me, giving me the once over though he doesn’t seem too impressed by my presence.

“Yeah, what is it with you and all the other poms having bad teeth?” The boy pipes up, I notice the two boys next to him laugh. Though the one in the baggy outfit makes eye contact with me and a flash of guilt appears on his face.

“I don’t have bad teeth actually. Nobody I know does and to be perfectly honest, that stereotype is deeply rooted in classism and while the UK faces a major cost of living and wealth gap crisis, I don’t think it’s funny to joke about things like that. Do you?” I retort, causing h the pink haired girl and her friend to applaud my mini speech. Both offering cheers.

“Okay any more questions that aren’t going to cause arguments?” Jojo asks, a few hands lowering as they don’t want to get in trouble. “Yes, Amerie?”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, yeah I really miss it.” I start, thinking of everything that I had to leave behind. I know this was the best decision for my family, but I do hold a slight resentment towards being here. “Don’t get me wrong, Sydney’s great and all, but I miss my friends, my house, my pets, I even miss the shitty pub from down the street.”

“Thank you Y/N, I feel like we’ve got to know you a little bit more now, so feel free to take a seat and we’ll get started.”

The only open seat is next to the girl that Jojo called Amerie. Smiling as I take my place, I open my notebook and begin to doodle swirls and other patterns across the page. Focusing on that rather than the subject being taught. It’s some form of sex education by the sounds of it. However, it seems very outdated and heteronormative. Nothing worth listening to anyway.

Upon hearing the bell ring, I begin to pack away my things and watch as a few students mutter things towards Amerie. “Map bitch.” “Cunt.” and “Crazy bitch.” Just to name a few. I realise that may be the reason she had nobody sat next to her and figure it may be best to avoid her if I want to stay under everybody’s radar.

Finding my locker, I begin to turn the lock with great difficulty. Back home, the numbers simply connect and the door clicks open, that doesn’t seem to be the case here though. Fiddling with the dial, I hear the bell signal the beginning of the next class and I huff, annoyed that I’m having this much trouble with a stupid locker.

As the hallways clears out, I continue to twist and pull at the lock. Bag dumped on the floor as I try with all my strength to pry the door open. With no such luck, I throw a quick kick to the locker beneath mine, leaving a dent in the door slightly. Slumping with my back again the metal, I find myself face to face with the boy in the baggy outfit.

Not previously noticing how cute he was, dark hair hidden beneath a beanie, a couple of curls escaping. Boyish grin plastered across his face and piercing brown eyes staring directly at me. I won’t even try to deny that Australia has one up on the Uk in terms of boys, they’re just so much cuter over here.

“What did the locker do to you?” He jokes, taking the slip of paper with the locker code out of my hand.

“Bloody thing won’t open.” I mumble, stepping out of the way as he demonstrates how to open it with ease. My cheeks tinged pink as I fear my outburst may have been unnecessary.

“I thought you Brits were supposed to be good at containing your emotions anyway.” He leans against the locker beside mine, watching me as I stuff countless books into the small space. Normally this would make me uncomfortable, yet there’s there’s something about him that makes me feel warm and calm.

“Nah we love our fair share of violence.” I tell him, smiling as I do so, remembering the amount of fights that used to take place on my estate daily. Providing free entertainment for all the neighbours. “We’re polite, but piss us off and we’ll knock you into next week.”

He laughs, folding his arms across his chest as I close the locker door. His eyes gaze over me as I turn to face him properly. Noticing the small cross necklace hanging from his neck, I can’t help but imagine what it would look like against his bare skin.

“You religious?” I ask, nodding towards the chain.

“Nah, I’m Ant.” He brushes off my question and tucks the necklace beneath his shirt. Clearly a touchy subject that perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up. So instead I attempt to lighten the mood.

“Ant?” The word escapes my mouth as a slight giggle, unable to hide the amusement his name brings. “And your mate’s called Spider?”

“Yeah, stupid right?” He chuckles, playing with the straps of his bag. Almost as if he’s nervous. “We’ve been best mates our entire lives. My real name’s Anthony but nobody calls me that. Same with Spider, his name’s Spencer. Kids started to call us Ant and Spider when we were like six, guess it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.”

Picking up my bag, I throw it over my shoulder. Figuring I should probably head to my next class despite being extremely late already.

“Hey, about Spider.” Ant reaches for my arm, clearly sensing that I’m about to leave. “I just wanted to apologise, he can be a bit of a dick but he’s a nice guy deep down.”

My arm tingles where he’s touching it, feeling the slightest of move of his fingers. As though my nerves are on fire. Suddenly hypersensitive to any little movement he makes. I know I shouldn’t be feeling things this intensely, hell, I’ve just met the guy. Yet he sparks an excitement in me that I haven’t felt in a while.

“Honestly it’s sound. You don’t need to apologise.” I assure him, offering a smile, I see his shoulders relax. “I can handle a prick like him any day.”

“Yeah you certainly shot him down quick.”

As he removes his hand from my arm, I’m quick to begin walking away. Cheesy grin on my face as I recall the interaction in my head despite it only happening seconds ago. I feel dizzy with excitement, my feet feel like they’re walking on clouds and I almost miss the shout from behind me as I go to turn the corner.

“Hey, do you wanna get high?”

#ant vaughn #ant vaughn x reader #anthony vaughn #anthony vaughn x reader #heartbreak high fics #heartbreak high imagines #any vaugh imagine #anthony vaughn imagine #fluff #heartbreak high fluff #anthony vaughn fluff #jojo obah #spider white #spencer white #amerie wadia #quinn gallagher jones #heartbreak high requests

[mixelation]

heya, so i've read your fic "it's about magic eyeball biology" right when it came out on AO3 but i just saw it's not online anymore. is there a way you'd be willing to send me the file? I REALLY like it and I was reading it basically every day for a few days because it made me laugh

i pulled it because i was getting comments about it on other fics and that was super annoying. but i guess i don't have a problem reposting it to tumblr. some notes:

this is an AU based on a bunch of jokes in this tag (chronological order)

someone asked about how weird it would be to be an SI and find out about the eyeball symbionts, so i wrote about tori finding out. this fic is a joke. it is not "canon." no one in plasticity, mutagenicity, or any other fic of mine has eyeball symbionts. i do not find it interesting, amusing, or fun to explore this concept in other fics. i do not want comments or questions about it. please respect this

the word i chose to use is "symbiont," which in my experience is the more common term used by people who study symbiosis. "symbiote" is from marvel.

Tori was successful in not vomiting the first time she watched an autopsy. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, but she ignored it, watching Keizo’s hands and pointedly not looking at the face of their latest victim. If she just focused on the steady removal of organs from the abdomen and not the face, she could pretend they weren’t from a person. 

Then Keizo moved on to the head, and she had to look. He pried open the eyelids, and her stomach rolled. 

“The eyes aren’t so bad,” Keizo narrated, voice gruff and bored. He held the lids open with one hand while he cut away with the other. “I like to use curved scissors to-- pay attention-- cut through the fascial sheath, and then you can cut away the orbital muscles and it’ll pop right out. Orochimaru-sama isn’t going to let you touch anyone with a doujutsu, so don’t worry about damaging the…”

Tori frowned, barely listening to Keizo, as the victim’s eye did pop right out. It was smooth, almost a perfect sphere, with the dark brown iris raised ever so slightly. Pink viscera clung to it in Keizo’s hand. 

“Hold on,” Tori interrupted, twisting her neck to try and look at the back of the eyeball. “Where’s the… you know, the optic nerve?”

She was pretty sure the optic nerve was, like, huge. It was a bundle of over a million nerve fibers or something insane like that, if she remembered the human anatomy unit correctly. Her teacher had called it a “bridge cable.”

Then again, that unit was from an advanced high school class, and Keizo was looking at her like she was particularly stupid. Even if he was mean, violent, and uncooperative, he definitely knew more about cutting out eyeballs than Tori.

“Is it smaller than it looks in cartoons?” she tried. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Keizo sneered. “Here, you do the second eye.”

That was the good thing about eyes, Tori supposed. You got two for the price of one. 

He passed her the curved scissors, which were slick with whatever goo lined an eye socket, and Tori hesitantly put down the notebook she’d been writing in. Feeling very light-headed, she copied Keizo’s movements, gently separating the victim’s eyelids and praying something would happen to intervene in what she was about to do. A fire alarm going off, or a earthquake, or fuck-- she’d take the hideout being actively attacked over this. 

No act of god stopped her. Her hands were shaking so hard that she accidentally punctured the sclera and transparent, goopy vitreous started leaking out. 

The eye did pop right out, though. There was no nerve at the back, and no evidence of one in the back of the pink socket. 

Looking into the face of dead, eyeless person, she could either feel the horror at what she’d done seeping into her very bones, or she could wonder: What the fuck?

xXx

She asked for an anatomy book. 

“I don’t see what the point is,” Kabuto told her. “You’re getting hands-on experience.”

“I want to know how things work when they’re still alive,” Tori replied. 

“Well…” Kabuto rolled his chair back from his desk towards a narrow bookstand of books and scrolls he kept in his clinic. “I suppose Orochimaru would approve. Here, you can look through this while we wait for that drug to kick in.”

He handed her what was clearly a picture book meant for children, a deeply condescending smile on his face. Tori pressed her lips together to prevent herself from saying something disrespectful, then forced her face into a polite smile. 

There was a chapter on different senses, and she slowly flipped through the chapter on chakra networks in mild interest, before she found the two-page spread covering sight. 

Mother of Christ, Tori thought. 

She hadn’t found an optic nerve because there wasn’t one. 

xXx

Part of Tori’s argument for why she shouldn’t be dissected like a frog was that there was no reason to think there was much special about her biologically, including her own anatomy. She thought it would be safer to simply not say anything.

But now she knew. She knew every person in this world was a walking sin against logic, and that knowledge, sitting in the Oto clinic with Kabuto, was a horrible, heavy burden that made it hard to breathe.

The picture book Kabuto had loaned her had explained vision to her the way Tori thought an alien who’d never even seen a human and also who didn’t have sight themselves might explain it: special cells at the back of the eye reacted to light, and then that information was transferred directly into the brain via a complex network of chakra, and this was not even the worst part. 

The worst part was that eyeballs were an entirely separate organism. A mutualistic creature that colonized newborn baby eye sockets and then metamorphosed into basically a giant eyeball that fed visual information into the brain in exchange for protection and nutrients. 

“During pregnancy,” the book had explained in a little Did you know? box, “a mommy’s body makes special hormones, which tell the visual symbiont to make babies too! The babies are called larvae, which have lots of little tentacles to help them move around. They like to stay with mommy, though, and so they find the baby when she holds it. Sometimes, when there’s a problem with mommy and she can’t donate larvae to her baby, a doctor can help daddy’s eyes make babies, or sometimes another mommy will donate!”

Tori was going insane. She was going to hyperventilate. What the FUCK!

“This is the worst thing I ever read,” she muttered to herself, eyes stuck on the book. Whatever drug Kabuto had given her was making her dizzy, but she felt like her vision was laser-focused and perfectly taking in the bright cartoon of two eyeball symbiont creatures. “Is this a joke? This has to be a joke.”

She was vaguely aware of Kabuto frowning at her. “A joke?”

“Visual symbionts?” Tori squeaked out, sounding and feeling hysterical. 

“Yes…?” Kabuto repeated. 

“No,” Tori argued. “No way.”

Bemused, Kabuto dug out more textbooks, these ones meant for actual medical professionals. He flipped through passages on syndromes related to host-symbiont genetic incompatibilities, being colonized by more than one symbiont, symbiont maldevelopment and absenteeism, chakra incompatibilities, if the symbiont spontaneously regrew its tentacles and left your head in order to start its sexual reproductive cycle. 

“Is this…” Tori felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt more apt to vomit than she did when she’d fucked up trying to cut out someone’s eye. “Is this a genjutsu…?”

“Did you really not know about them?” Kabuto asked. “I thought you had biological training.”

Tori had to work very hard not to break down into hysterics. 

xXx

The good news was that “I have a special nerve that connects my eyeball to my brain and lets me see” sounded exactly as insane to both Kabuto and Orochimaru as “eyeball symbiont creature” did to Tori. 

Well, no, that wasn’t really good news. But she felt vindicated at both their absolutely baffled looks. 

She had to explain it three times– dropping words like “optic chiasma” and “retinal blind spot” before Kabuto believed her enough to press his fingers to her temple and send chakra into her eyes. 

“There is something there,” he said, sounding deeply perplexed, and Orochimaru perked up like a child receiving a Christmas gift. “I think-- yes, it’s a nerve.”

“I think you should be able to see it,” Tori said, “if you shine a light into the pupil.”

They did. Tori did indeed have a white spot at the back of her eye, right where her optic nerve entered her eye. 

“You’re like a cephalopod,” Orochimaru informed her, sounding like a dog owner telling their pet they were a very good girl. “This is how their eyes are arranged, an absolutely beautiful evolution. Oh, but the approach of the nerve is different. How fascinating.”

The examination ended with Orochimaru gleefully jabbing a needle into both Tori’s eyes. This was uncomfortable and painful, and he talked about how the presence of an optic nerve might be part of her future vision. 

At least this backs up my story, Tori thought as Orochimaru’s cool hand held her face down.

xXx

Orochimaru strolled into lab the next day and pulled Tori aside to go over the results of her test with her. He took her down the hall to an office, which was surprisingly homey, all things considered. Orochimaru’s office was lined with bookshelves, and had a nice wood desk and a comfortable looking chair behind it. There was an ornamental lamp, which along with the desk chair, were the closest to “creature comforts” that Tori had seen in Oto so far. 

She sat opposite to Orochimaru, in a much less comfortable chair. He spread a scroll out on the desk in front of her. 

“Do you know how to read the results of a DNA test?” he asked. 

“Uh,” Tori answered. “Not like whatever you’re about to show me.”

He hummed back at her, not at all bothered. “Ah, your otherworldly science. You should tell me about that later. For now…”

He explained how he’d compared the DNA extracted from her eye to DNA extracted from the hair he’d ripped off of her previously. They had matched exactly. He’d also ran her eye DNA against several visual symbionts they had on file, across many vertebrate taxa, and found no match at all. 

“Your eyes are one-hundred percent Tori,” he said. “It’s amazing.”

“...thanks?” Tori tried. As a joke she added, “I grew them myself.”

“Hmm,” he answered. “I wish I had more of you, and more of other animals from your world. I’d like to study how they evolved.”

“I don’t understand how they didn’t evolve here,” Tori told him honestly. They had a special socket and everything! “I think… do other animals have eyes here? I’m pretty sure eyes evolved more than once. In my world, I mean.”

Orochimaru leaned back in his seat, eyeing her indulgently, a smile tugging at his lips. “The leading theory is that the symbiont started as a flesh-eating parasite that attacked proto-eyes in vertebrates, and then evolved with us until it simply replaced our eyes. Most babies are born with soft tissue in their sockets, to feed potential symbionts, and some think that growth is left over from millions of years ago when our ancestors had their own eyes.”

“Oh,” Tori said, unsure how to respond to that. She’d been taught parasitism and mutualism were opposite sides of the same symbiotic spectrum, so moving from one end to the other made sense. “Well, that happens sometimes.”

Orochimaru laughed. 

They chatted. Orochimaru was good at answering questions thoroughly and without making Tori feel like she was stupid the way other Oto residents did, and he nodded along to her talking about whatever eyeball-related thing that came to her mind. Red-green colorblindness being a sex-linked trait, for example, was an extremely interesting topic for Orochimaru. 

“So do you not have the genes for photoreceptors at all?” Tori asked curiously. 

Instead of answering her immediately, Orochimaru had started writing down notes to himself. With the exception of occasionally labeling a tube or sample, Tori had never actually seen him write anything down before, and he scribbled with a sort of fervent focus. 

“I’ve never looked,” he said eventually. “There’s evidence for photosensitivity in those without symbionts, but… It would be interesting to use your genome to search for any analogous loci…”

Because the conversation flowed easily, Tori eventually felt bold enough to ask:

“So is this why you can just pass sharingan around like hot potatoes?”

Orochimaru paused in the middle of writing, blinking at her. 

“Hot potatoes?”

Tori blushed, and then backpedaled. “I know you… uh, Sasuke is going to get into a fight with Danzo at some point.”

She gestured at her forearm, and Orochimaru let a loud, rasping laugh. 

“I don’t think Danzo can see particularly well with those,” he said, eyes mirthful. “But I suppose eye transplants would be quite difficult with a nerve to connect, wouldn’t they?”

Tori nodded. She was pretty sure they weren’t even possible. There were… a lot of problems, there. But if the eyeball was supposed to be an external creature, it had to be easier to pass them around. 

“They have quite a high success rate here,” he answered, tone flippant as he played with the pen in his hand. “Unfortunately, an eye transplanted into a non-related host can rarely be coaxed into reproducing.”

“Huh,” Tori answered. “Why?”

Orochimaru’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “Perhaps that can be your next project.” 

xXx

It didn’t get to be Tori’s next project, because Oto ended up going up in flames. 

She didn’t even have time or energy to think about how everyone in this world was running around with symbiont eyeballs instead of regular eyes until months later, sitting in Sasori’s workshop and carefully stirring some foul-smelling concoction while he excavated someone’s insides so he could hide weapons inside or something. 

“You know, you guys should really invent magnetic stir-bars,” Tori said, eyeing the beaker of slowly bubbling sludge and wondering if the fumes could hurt her. 

Apparently Sasori was in a bad mood today, because he put the horrifying… scooping tool… down and turned to her fully. 

Like carving a pumpkin, Tori thought against her will, eyes fixated on the… organ scooper?

“What stupid thing are you rambling about now?” Sasori asked her, voice harsh. “You’re distracting me. If you make a single mistake with that poison--”

Tori was trying very hard to pay attention to Sasori’s threats and not think about all the horrible squelching noises of the organs she’d removed herself. It was better to listen to Sasori, really. Probably increased her chance of survival, even. 

There was movement behind Sasori. Tori squeaked in surprise. Sasori clicked his tongue in annoyance, picked up the organ scooper, and then used it to catch something right out of the air with the ease of a professional lacrosse player. 

“Oh, disgusting,” he said, staring down at it in evident annoyance. 

Something else plopped to the floor with an audible, vaguely wet thud. It rolled across the concrete floor, and Sasori trapped it against the floor with a firm sandal. Tori leaned over the bench to see what was going on, and saw the transparent ooze of viscera across the cement and gray tentacles trashing against the floor and the sides of Sasori’s sandals. 

“Is that an eyeball symbiont?” Tori asked, suddenly excited. She leapt to her feet and came to stand beside him, peering into the shell of the organ scooper. 

Sure enough, an eyeball with a halo of tentacles was rolling back and forth, desperately trying to escape. 

Holy shit, Tori thought. That was… that was amazing, actually. 

“It’s sort of cute,” she said. 

Sasori looked at her like she was insane. This was, apparently, such a bizarre statement that he didn’t immediately react to the eyeball finally lurching itself forward and out of the scoop. Tori caught it easily in one hand as it fell. 

“Don’t touch it,” Sasori hissed, grabbing her wrist. “Are you insane? It’ll induce your eyes too.”

“...what?” Tori asked, blinking back at him. “Oh, because the tentacles mean it’s trying to have sex?”

She stared down at the thing in her hand. The tentacles wriggled between her fingers. Kinky little bastards, weren’t they?

Sasori was looking at her with… awe wasn’t really the word. More like: What the fuck, I have never seen someone this carelessly insane before, and I am horrified that humanity could reach these depth. 

Which was kind of rude, actually, because they lived with Hidan. 

“What do you mean by ‘induce’?” Toi asked. 

“Do you not know how eyeballs work?” Sasori asked, sounding just shy of hysterical. 

Apparently, handling an eyeball symbiont in its sexual reproduction mode could induce a symbiont in a host to also leave the head and revert to its sexual cycle, so they could both run off and hopefully have an eyeball orgy with as many symbionts as possible. Tori guessed that made sense. The symbiont reproduced mainly asexually, but most things did occasionally run off to have sex. That was just life. 

Sasori was absolutely disgusted by the entire process. His symbionts were the only living part of him, and he was personally horrified by the idea of them crawling out of his head to make babies. 

He also seemed to be viscerally repulsed by the threat of a loose symbiont in someone’s living quarters, not because it might affect his housemates, but because he didn’t like the idea of more tentacled symbionts flopping around. 

“Is this like… an ongoing societal problem?” Tori wondered. Did people kill them on sight, or was this considered a beautiful miracle of life? 

She didn’t get to find out, because her question triggered a rant from Sasori about how much he hated them, and that they should just stay in people’s heads and look pretty like they were meant to. 

“Is it common to leave a dead host like this?” Tori asked when he calmed down. They couldn’t really move on their own unless they went into sex mode, after all… 

“Why are you still holding it?” Sasori demanded. His own disgust was the only thing keeping him from prying it out of her hand himself. 

“Oh, I don’t have a visual symbiont,” Tori said, blinking at Sasori. “I just grew my own eyes. Uh. Like an octopus.”

Sasori very slowly let go of her wrist. He stared at her, perplexed. 

The symbiont in her hand wriggled some more. Her own eyeballs stayed firmly in place. 

“...pick up the one on the floor,” Sasori said eventually. 

He wanted to keep them. He liked saving his puppet’s original eyes. Usually, when they left the host, he had to kill them and then isolate them for a week to be sure the hormones that could induce his own symbionts dissipated. That meant, once he was able to safely handle them, they were not in pristine condition. This, perhaps, contributed to why he hated them so much. They were frustrating art material. 

Tori thought, based on what she’d read about things doctors did, he was being a bit paranoid, the way some people didn’t like touching raw meat. 

“You’ll have to kill them and preserve them for me,” Sasori said, having fully accepted that Tori was a weird freak faster than she would have anticipated. 

Tori felt bad when she killed them, slipping a scalpel into their backs where Sasori indicated. 

“You’ll see more live ones,” Sasori sniffed when she complained. “This happens with about a quarter of my bodies.”

Fascinating, Tori thought. She’d never had one of her failed surgery… patients… do this. Maybe what they did in Oto also killed the symbiont? 

“And you don’t use all those bodies for full puppets, right?” Tori asked. “You won’t need every symbiont.”

“You can’t keep it as a pet,” Sasori sneered. 

Obviously she didn’t want a pet. She wanted to run some experiments. This was really interesting, after all! 

Instead of earnestly explaining this to Sasori, who seemed a bit on edge and likely to yell at her, she went for jokes at other people’s expense. He loved those. 

“I want to see if Jashin protects Hidan from them,” Tori told him, and he snorted. “Or see if we can get one to colonize Deidara’s mouth-hand.”

“He will kill you,” Sasori said, not without a hint of bemusement. “You’ll cut off all their tentacles next. I like to use curved scissors…”

#it's about magic eyeball biology #my writing #toriverse

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread  

Tears in the Water

NA contemporary slice of life romance about a competitive swimmer with anxiety at a sports university

they start seriously questioning their gender when they make some new friends and start dating a trans volleyball player

queer friend groups, aspec characters

#Tears in the Water #aroaessidhe 2023 reads #trans books #nonbinary books #asexual books #i enjoyed this overall! #a good slice of life with lots of gender feelings #a few nitpicks: #there were a lot of like….jumping STRAIGHT into 3 paragraph dialogue about feelings about gender or sexuality or anxiety with no breaks #which like isn’t inherently bad I just think there could have been more of a lead up/build a lot of the times to make it feel more like a na #natural conversation #(the occasional word-vomit-monologue is fine but this was like. all the time) #re: the aroace side character; he’s ace and questioning if he’s aro and we mostly see that through the lens of negativity; #or he’s talking about his feelings as if it’s a negative thing to the MC and the MC is like telling him he’s probably aro and it’s valid #I guess there is an important space for aros who don’t want to be aro coming to terms with it (and he is happier about it by the end!) #i just don’t relate lmao i’ve never wanted to be allo. lmao. #i think something felt just slightly off about how it was written and discussed? maybe more the fact that it was through the MCs eyes more t #than anything #and also shoved into one chapter rather than. spaced out a bit idk #(also I don’t understand knowing you’re ace but not really knowing anything about being aro? but i guess that is also probably something #people experience irl) #(anyway; not a ‘this is bad representation’ criticism just a ‘could have been slightly better’ one)

[whimsyprinx]

i think I just need to stop clinging to and getting so attached to people

#whimsy whispers #because then things fall apart and so do I #it’s also just like suffocating and annoying of me to do to people I’ve realized #like I just tend to get too attached to people and when things get bad and I can’t fix them I don’t know what to do or how to cope #especially when it feels like no one else is being affected the same way I am so it feels like it’s just a me problem #anyways guess who finally talked to their irl about how they’d been feeling for the past few months #I don’t expect for things to improve based on just doing this and idk if things will be like they use to be but this is the only friendship #that I feel like I can like idk salvage at this point #I don’t think they’ll go back to being the most important person in the world to me or my very best friend but maybe that’s for the best #it just hurts not having someone like that in my life anymore because I did genuinely love them so much but like idk I already knew they’d #never love me as much as i did like they have actual loved ones who it makes more sense to cherish more which is like obvs fine I just like #idk i feel like I generally stopped being important in general to them and that’s what hurt most #as for the other friendships I’m uncertain about there’s nothing I can do there #I talk to like very few people now and have been trying to like allow new people to try and get close to me as scary as that is #I am afraid I’ll just fuck up those relationships too tbh because everything is a cycle with me #idk I just feel stupid and helpless and like there’s nothing I can do and maybe i just need to accept that there isn’t anything I can do to #fix my mistakes like I can’t undo anything and I can’t fix them and like I just hope I’ll accept that eventually #and again I need to just learn to stop getting so attached to people it’s just abdjfktk hard for me not to but each time I hurt others or #others hurt me it makes it harder for me to want to let anyone else get closer and eventually I’m going to be all alone if this keeps up #anyways tnats tofays vent/fun little realization that I need to force myself to accept

[gothgamergaara]

I have no idea if I’m some brand of aro or not since I avoided dating or thinking abt it until basically now, I mean I am leaning towards maybe I am idk but basically the guy I’m talking to I’m like. So it’s like the first time I’m talking to someone post grey-ace discovery so I haven’t pretended to be sexually attracted to him and I’m also Not but I also don’t even know if I like him at all?

Everyone I’ve ever had a crush on has been my friend first and then I usually end up sexually attracted to them too (I think, it’s been like five years since the last time), but again I was actively avoiding dating and never pursued these ppl (actually umm. Helped them date other ppl lmao). Like I really should never have gone on a dating app bc it’s like. My worst nightmare. And I feel like this guy is trying to do all this dating stuff that I hear about and I’m just like dude I’m not even ur friend yet why would we do this stuff.. then I just can’t tell if I’m severely debilitatingly awkward or if it’s just me and I actually don’t want to do these things I just think I’m supposed to?

Truly I feel so young in this, like I’m even less experienced than a middle schooler. And like I know I know trans experience etc etc but I just want the answers. I want to know who I am and what I actually want compared to what I think I’m supposed to be and do and want. And this is all so so soooo embarrassing I don’t even know if I can spit it out to my therapist or not who will just be like well what DO you want? How do you see yourself in the future with friends or partners? And that’s the whole point I HAVE NO IDEA! I’ve been lonely and alone and felt like it too as far as I can remember!

#okay ending it before it truly becomes a whole fucking novel #I know no one’s gonna read this long ass post thank god #but I truly have no one to just. unload on and also I don’t idk I don’t WANT to unload on them either #and the few ppl I do have are just. I feel like I’d tell them and they’d be like I have no idea what to tell u #which isn’t a bad thing I guess it’s just like. I don’t want to feel like some messed up person I guess #it just feels so shameful to have wants and then be presented with those wants and be like well. maybe not like that? #I just don’t get how other people do it. like if they actually want to do these things or if they’re also doing them bc that’s what you do #and like am I supposed to push myself so far out of my comfort zone or is it not meant to be like this?

[distantwave]

#really think I actually need to find a psychiatrist one of these days #not to quote my shitty roomie but I really don’t have to live like this #I am. doing not as bad as I have at other points. but I am definitely not doing great I would say #like I mean things are fine at the moment. but there’s definitely the edge of a precipice kinda feeling to it #like I do really enjoy my job that’s a really good thing for me actually and I finally found a place to live so that’s excellent but #I do REALLY think I need to get help before I move out. which realistically isn’t going to happen bc it’s less than a month away #but uh. I am. not going to do well on my own admittedly. sure I was practically living on my own the last few months in the last place #just bc no one would speak to me. but there were still other people in the house. I think my potential for getting really bad again is #perhaps going to be alarmingly high if I’m on my own without a roommate or a therapist/physiatrist to figure shit out #I don’t want it to take away how excited I am to live at my new place but I genuinely should not be on my own. like practically I’m fine #it’s mentally I won’t do well with it I think #on a totally different note tho if I did ever end up getting diagnosed with what I think I’ve got going on it opens up a ton of #diners drive ins and dives jokes for me lmaoo #so that’s something I guess lol. but yea anyways idk what to do really. am bad at bridging what I can bring up to people and what I can’t #as that is literally one of the defining reasons my relationship with her fucking crashed and burned. so idk when/what/how much I can #talk about things anymore. went from telling no one anything and it completely ruining my closest friendship. to telling her everything and #it ALSO ruining our friendship. so my grasp of what’s appropriate is evidently nonexistent ya know. but I do need to talk to someone bc #I am perhaps doing less than optimal ya know? and I don’t really want to go back to my last therapist I feel like it’s been too long #don’t know what my plan of action is here but this was slightly cathartic at least

[tiredf-o-u-r]

In the past I thought my experience with wanting to fuck a teacher was like a bpd favorite person type thing but what if I was just like welp guess it’s sex time cause you’re nice to me and aren’t demanding anything else out of me, so I was like guess my body is on the table then, that’s the precedent thus far and I actually have an emotional eye to eye I see you bro thing going on, which sounds closer to love than all the other people who had power over my body, so you might as well have a go too... so could that be why I wanted him to do anything and everything to me at one point…And then like cut with a healthy dose of the general themes of fanfic ass scenarios my brain enjoys, so that probably also fed into how every positive interaction with him prompted my brain to execute whatever mental gymnastics it took to make me think that it was further ‘proof’ we should be together…I guess what I’m saying is I didn’t understand what that all meant but now it makes too much sense why I would think something like that.

#damn it kinda sucks that it’s like sad #fuck okay so if it was painfully obvious the whole time then I guess he was a saint for putting up with it #which is my fear that like I’m annoying as fuck right #hhhhdhhhhh I COULDNT HELP IT like I feel bad for the teenager that did all that #but like emotional thing is so valuable and so few and far between for me #that I like don’t even want to interact with him or be around him at all #cause I think I’ll be obviously down bad again and embarrass myself and make him uncomfortable #and then the emotional thing will be gone just like every other relationship in my life and I don’t want that #me when I’m sooo normal #you would too if you were raised in the asylum where they raised me fjjsjffjdbHAH #we’re down bad today teacher fucker nation #I would tag this as my diary but isn’t this entire account my diary

[victory-cookies]

me when the sun is out and I’m not at school or work and worrying about due dates and I’m playing my little games and watching my little shows and I somehow still feel like shit: ah. maybe I am depressed

#Like during the school year I’m like ugh I’m so stressed and the weather is shit so that must be why I feel awful #but it’s genuinely a beautiful day and I slept in and have just been sort of chilling #and yet. I still feel gross #my room is a mess and I haven’t gone outside which probably isn’t helping #but like. I should feel good now! it’s a day off for me! and I have a big thing to look forward to on the weekend! #and I don’t. I just feel blegh #it’s been like this the past couple days too #Like I’ve been off! I had one shift at work and that wasn’t even bad! why do I feel like shit when I’m finally able to chill! #and the things is I know I wasn’t happier doing school! I know I’m not happier at work #it’s just when I’m doing those things at least I have a reason to be stressed and tired! now I don’t! #I don’t have an exam for nearly a week and I’m going to see one of my favourite bands in a few days #and I just started a game I’ve been wanting to play and I’m able to watch stuff I’ve been meaning to watch and I finally did some laundry! #and yet I feel like I need a nap. I don’t want to do anything other than take a nap even though I know I should probably start packing #or take a shower or do a craft or start revising for my exam next week #hhhhh anyway. my laundry’s done I guess I oughta go put my sheets back on my bed #so at least if I take a nap it won’t be on my bare mattress #vent

[halsteadlover]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: a TikTok trend turns out to be the best surprise of your life.

• Warnings: few curse words and dirty talking, highly suggestive at the end.

• Word count: 1040.

• A/N: I don’t know how to feel about this one to be honest 😭 Let me know what you think and like, comment and reblog if you want. As always thank you so much for your constant support I missed you all so so much ❤️

“Hi guys!” You smiled, taking a step back to show your entire frame in the video. “Come here baby,” you called Charles waving with your hand and encouraging him to come closer to you. He wrapped his arm around your hip, leaving a kiss on your temple before bringing his gaze to your figures on the phone screen.

You were making a TikTok and you had finally found the perfect opportunity to follow the trend of calling your boyfriend ‘husband’, wanting to capture Charles’ reaction really bad.

“You look divine,” he whispered in your ear, his voice so low it was unlikely it registered. You giggled as you looked at him and leaned against his body, placing a hand on his shirt-covered chest and letting the scent of his cologne invade your senses.

“Sooo,” you continued, turning back to the actually absent audience. “I’m here with my husband, we just finished getting ready for the gala…”

You suddenly stopped, no longer able to keep a serious expression when Charles turned his head so quickly you almost feared he had broken his neck. You burst out laughing when he opened his mouth in disbelief, looking at you with a shocked expression you’d never seen on his face before.

“What? What’s wrong?” You laughed.

“What did you just say?” He exclaimed in amazement and you finally turned your gaze to him, your heart exploding in your chest noticing the dazzling smile he had on his lips as he looked at you.

You giggled again. “I said my husband…”

His hand gripped your hip, fingers pressing into the straws of your dress. “Fuck say that again.”

“My husband,” you repeated, now completely forgetting about the TikTok. “Does it bother you?”

“Bother me?” Charles took your hand that was still resting on his chest and directed it to his heart. You smiled as you noticed it was wildly beating.

I guess it didn’t bother him.

He pressed his lips to yours, sucking your soul from your body with just that contact. “Again.”

“You really like the way that ‘my husband’ sounds huh?”

“Mon dieu yes…” His lips trailed a trail of kisses along your jaw to your neck. “I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he whispered in your ear and you almost fainted.

“Alright, alright, enough…” you giggled as heat spread across your cheeks, remembering your phone was still recording. You pulled away from his grip and stopped the TikTok before Charles grabbed you again and pressed his lips against yours, this time without any inhibitory brakes and not caring about your meticulously cared for makeup. His mouth devoured you, possessing every fiber of your body.

“Oh god babe…” you breathed barely knowing what even was your name anymore. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Your husband…” He sighed “That was the hottest and sexiest thing I have ever heard in my life. What are you doing to me?” His hands roamed everywhere on your body, now uncontrollable as they groped your flash. “If I had known how beautiful it sounded I would’ve done it much sooner.”

“Do what?”

He reached into his suit’s pocket and pulled out a small box, an unmistakable little box which sight was enough to give you a heart attack.

You gasped, your hands over your mouth when he opened that little box and got on his knee.

“I know it’s not what you deserve, this isn’t how I planned for this to happen and I really apologize but I honestly can’t take it anymore baby. I’ve been carrying this ring with me for months now, always waiting for the perfect moment but it never seemed to be enough because I wanted to make the perfect proposal, just like you deserve… But… God… I also know as long as there’s you and me, everything will always be perfect, it doesn’t matter the time or place that’s why I was planning to propose after the gala, I had prepared…” he spoke, his eyes still fixed on yours. “Fuck it doesn’t matter now because hearing you call me your husband even if it’s just a trend on TikTok made me regret not doing this sooner and realize how stupid I was to wait this long. I can’t wait to hear you say it for the rest of my life, so…”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You exclaimed jumping without even letting him finish his sentence, your face streaked with tears.

He chuckled, his eyes equally filled with tears. “You don’t even want me to ask?”

“Fuck hurry up and ask me so I can say yes a thousand times!”

He smiled and your whole world stopped.

“Mon amour, would you like to make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes fuck yes!” You screamed in hysterics and threw yourself into his arms, almost making both of you fall on the floor.

His laughter rang through the room and you found yourself leaning into him as he slid the ring along your finger, noting with so much joy it was exactly what you had always wanted and remembering how you had mentioned it only once a while ago and how he had remembered it.

You grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him until there was nothing left of the two of you but jelly.

“We’ll celebrate later baby, now get naked because I want to fuck you so bad I think I’m going to explode. And I won’t stop until you won’t even be able to walk out this room.” His hand tightened around your throat, squeezing lightly and enough to make you dizzy with desire, just how you liked it. His lips, red and swollen from your impetuous kisses, continued to caress yours, leaving you more and more impatient and eager.

“What about the gala?” You managed to ask, hoping he cared as much about it as you did. You just wanted to be with your fiancée.

I’m a fiancée now oh my god!

“I don’t give a damn about the gala or anything or anyone else other than my fiancée,” he replied and you mentally did a backflip. “The only thing I can think about right now is how good is going to feel to be buried deep inside my wife,” his fingers unzipped your dress, making it falling around your feet. “How good it’s going to see that ring wrapped around my dick.”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria, @buckybarnessweetheart, @fanaticlove16, @ajordan2020, @multi-fandom-lover7667

Charles Leclerc tag list: @dallaav, @softicecr3eam, @halsteadbrasil, @bwormie, @ssprayberrythings, @mynameisangeloflife, @scaramou, @ironspdy, @earlgreyflowers, @rxclessmorgan7, @bubu40777168, @hiireadstuff, @lilithhs-world, @yujnrq, @aurora-maria

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[colourstreakgryffin]

I was wondering if you can do Alastor x daughter! Reader? She’s manifested from his magic and because of that she has some of Alastor’s powers. However, she’s the complete and total opposite of him. She’s kind and sweet like Charlie, but is very shy. She never likes bringing out her true demon form for she is very terrifying. Alastor is very protective of her. Although, what if she sees Alastor get hurt by another overlord or Adam and he turns into her demon form to protect him and everyone is surprised by this and maybe even terrified of her.

OMFG. Yes! Second Alastor request in a rooowww! I love this man uncontrollably and he would be a good daddy. He’s a stag papa with his little fawn for reaaall! I love this idea, lots of loves and so much thanks for giving Hazbin Hotel more attention— or, I guess Alastor!

Father! Alastor- Hell’s Angel

Okay… Alastor wasn’t suspecting to pop a kid out of thin air when he actually wanted to pop a kid out of thin air. His magic is very powerful, no doubt but he birthed a child from solely his own powers and about 100% of his own DNA so his daughter’s features are primarily matching his own but there are some personal key differences Alastor wanted you to have to seperate yourself from him

So, you’re not a carbon copy of your dad, the Radio Demon. More just have the same deer features and red colouring

Alastor also wasn’t suspecting to have born an angel of his own. Sweet, affectionate, cheery, always smiling but smiling in a more welcoming and natural manner than her papa. He doesn’t mind it, you’re his babygirl. He loves you dearly, even after he just shat you out from literally nothing. He’s just surprised!

Well, at least Charlie loves you because you’re like… exactly what she loves and Alastor gets jealous of how well Charlie bonds with his own daughter!

Alastor has never known how to handle his own powers so when you begin manifesting voodoo dolls and portals containing all kinds of demonic beasts, he has to figure out how to get around all of it without hurting you a single bit. He has a whole plan scheduled out for anytime your powers trigger at random

Alastor’s protective, loving, clingy and carries you around a lot. He loves being able to bond with you, he likes hearing your cute deer noises when you’re trying to talk to him. He never lets you leave his sight and whilst he reframes from murder, he may just kill Vox for insulting his little fawn

Alastor now has all the full right to tell awful Dad jokes, since he is a proper Dad now. Rest in peace once again, Angel Dust

Yes. Alastor is the type to spoil his daughter. Spoil rotten, he isn’t going to stop and he isn’t sorry. He loves his little princess and no matter what, he’ll give her what she wants. If anybody dares to take what she wants from her, he’ll send them to double hell then give his babygirl extra hugs and kisses as apologises

Alastor knows, like him, you have your own full demon form and for a harmless sweetheart like yourself(that only uses your powers to help the Hotel staff). Your full form is actually terrifying and you know that, which is why you avoid it. You don’t want to scare anybody, especially not your beloved dad so you always reframe from getting too mad

Just let Papa Alastor handle anything bad. He’ll protect and care for you in the most sweet, cuddly way possible

Alastor is a lunatic, barely sane, monstrous all under a passive-aggressive, well-mannered, dapper 1930s gentleman image but when it comes to you, you’re the most healthy thing he has and he feels genuine love, care and affection for his own offspring. He only views you as his daughter, nothing else or anything exploitative. After all, he acts more like the one serving you than anything. He’ll get you whatever you want, no questions asked

Alastor wants to keep you away from threats so when Adam attacks the Hazbin Hotel. He has no choice but to leave you with Charlie. However, this didn’t last long since you knew your father was struggling when you heard his voice’s radio effect cut out. That was immediately a sign that you, not even a ten-year-old, to jump in and it caused you to rampage against Adam when you used your powers to track down and make it over to Alastor

“PRINCESS! GET AWAY FROM HERE NOW!” Alastor, despite the giant thick cut across his chest, staining his red pinstriped coat, over the white trims of his dark red lapels, yells out as loud as he can to catch his child’s attention, to get her to back off. Struggling to rise up to his feet with his tall fluffy deer-like ears pinned back. A sign of his fear, not because of seeing his babygirl in her full demon form throwing everything she has at the angel, Adam but because you’re in so much danger attacking Adam

Adam isn’t a merciful being, despite being an Angel, and the risk to your life is extremely high. Your demon form is ten times more demonic than any sinner can manifest, due to being produced by raw demonic magic, you form into a pure demonic entity

Screeching out in a menacing echoey way, entirely black and clumpy, phasing in and out like mist, shaped like a mighty Wendigo deer with literally zero resemblance to your cute little form. To you, your father’s in danger and with his cane snapped in half, his powers limited and his radio voice effect gone

You can’t just sit around in Charlie’s arms and let Alastor get killed by this psycho angel!

You have to risk everything to let Alastor escape. However, he isn’t going anywhere without you and is frantically trying to think of a way to get you away from Adam as the said holy entity keeps throwing swings after swings with his holy sharpened guitar to break off all the attacks coming from your Wendigo-style full form, letting out many strings of hateful curses at both you and Alastor. It’s clear with all the shadowy spines and green electricity shocks that you’re desperately trying to fend off the much stronger Angel to try protect your father

But if the Radio Demon himself couldn’t take on Adam for any longer than a few minutes. Of course, you don’t stand a chance, lasting half the time Alastor did. Being beaten when Adam outspeed and charged down a devestating sharp swing on your full form’s form head after you attempt to attack again. Thinking rather fast, you used your magic to cushion the blow to avoid it actually killing you

Being thrown over on the opposite end to where Alastor is and fading back into your normal demon form, a nasty big cut all down your back to the end of your fluffy deer tail, sobbing and clenching fangs

The staff watching nearby were terrified yet impressed. Impressed a child of your age and confidence was able to get that many hits on Adam and manage to guard yourself from a attack from Adam himself, getting away with merely just one cut

The Radio Demon growls frustrated and outraged at being forced to watch his child being thrown around like some doll and get even more hurt, now cornered by Adam, since it’s clear he doesn’t care to attack Alastor anymore. Thinking just as fast and getting up properly with his snapped-into-two cane in one tightening fist

Alastor phases through into the shadows in an almost melting fashion, dragging you down with him in the same shadowy engulfing manner by a single black trail travelling over to where you laid, leaving the bloodthirsty human ancestor as the victor of this fight. Needless to say, Alastor was so pissed. Pissed he lost the fight when he had managed to get many hits on Adam at the first section of the fight and pissed that said Angel dared to put his hands on his angel

At least… you’re safe now. Bleeding, hurt, crying and tired from overworking yourself whilst laid in Alastor’s arms, but you’re alive and okay. In your father’s hold and safe. Away from the Hotel and protected by the Voodoo’s shadowy magic

“You’re okay, darling… you’re okay. Papa’s got you, he’s always got you”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel radio demon #hazbin alastor #platonic alastor #platonic alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon x reader #radio demon #father headcanons #father alastor #vivziepop #vivziepop hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel short story #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanons #alastor headcanons #papa Al be like #papa alastor #hazbin angst #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin radio demon #the radio demon

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

[welcometomyoasis]

Seventeen's reaction to their s/o being in the same variety show as them

Synopsis: When your relationship isn’t public, how would seventeen react when you, their idol s/o, appears in the same variety show as them? Idol! Svt x idol gn! reader | idol au, fluff | 1.1k words | warnings: unsolicited comments | requested by anon A/n: honestly the svt members are already chaotic social butterflies so their behaviour wouldn’t really change? But the heart eyes would be real. Also, thank you anon for requesting my first idol au!! I actually really like idol aus and will prob write more at some point!

Member exe. has stopped working

Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Dokyeom, Mingyu

☘︎ Why are you going to the same variety show as him? Do you want him to combust on the spot? He knows you can’t control which shows your group goes to for promotions, but this is such bad news for them. Sure he loves watching you in your element, talking about your group, the new songs you’ve released, dancing with that passion that he fell in love with. The thing is he loves watching you a bit too much. 

☘︎ During the show, his brain just stops working. Who cares about professionalism? He wants to admire the masterpiece that is you. He’s going to shoot out so many heart eyes at you. He watches with a look that says he is completely enamoured or smitten with you. He is in awe. He definitely would not be able to keep the goofy smile off his face. His mind goes blank. Of course, he would cheer for you as well. Loudly. Very very loudly. He’s just so proud of you. If he was feeling a bit daring, he might even post a selfie that you both took backstage. 

☘︎ The hosts might make a comment or two about how he’s falling in love with you. As long as it’s harmless jabs, you’re both usually okay with it though other members might try to steer the conversation away just to be safe. Still, he’s so obvious that his behaviour towards you is hard to ignore. The comments from the viewers would be full of things like “i want someone to look at me the same way he looks at y/n” or “he’s so in love with y/n i cannot” or “what’s going on in his brain?”

☘︎ Surprisingly, I don’t actually think that there would be much speculation about whether you both are dating. These members can somehow brush off their lovestruck behaviour with a smile. It’s just that these 4 members do always stop functioning at some point anyway? Their chaotic, mindless behaviour and cheering really isn’t that out of the ordinary when you think about it. They might become the butt of some jokes for a while but I feel like this whole thing would pass quickly enough. I guess it pays to be some of the most chaotic members? 

Is there something going on?

Woozi, Junhui, Wonwoo, Dino 

☘︎ Oh these members are in trouble. Unlike those in the previous group, these 4 have rather predictable behaviour when they are on variety shows. Woozi would participate in all the games and discussions but he isn’t the most outgoing. Dino is just Dinoing? Like he’s the baby of the group but he acts very maturely when he’s on variety shows. Junhui and Wonwoo tend to be on the quieter side. 

☘︎ So, when you show up on the same variety show, their behaviour is just too different. Woozi, Junhui and Wonwoo would participate and be much more enthusiastic. Even if they aren’t cheering loudly, they would stare at you with pride and adoration in the same way that they would stare at the rest of the svt members. They also would not hesitate to talk to you or interact with you during the discussion portions of the show. 

☘︎ With Dino, I do see him turning to become more whiny or acting a little less maturely to some extent? He might even instinctively turn towards you when his members tease him, as if he’s seeking reassurance or refuge. Or even if he tries to act the same, he will frequently sneak not so subtle glances at you like a school boy in love. 

☘︎ It’s the freedom and comfort that is seen in your interactions and their behaviour towards you that would definitely make people question if there is something going on? The behaviour would go viral with viewers being split between “he’s just having a weird off day which happens” or “oh they are definitely dating, if not he likes y/n”. Both your weverse lives and social media posts would have so many comments asking about your relationship. The speculation would go around for a while and these members won’t be able to shake the rumours off for a while.

Business as usual

Jeonghan, Joshua, Minghao, Seungkwan, Vernon

☘︎ Of course he’s excited that you will be going on the same variety show as him! He loves watching you but unlike the members in the previous two points, he knows how to hide his reactions better. He’s a professional about it. His opinion is that the best course of action is to act like himself. That way nothing seems out of the ordinary. 

☘︎ Jeonghan will be cheeky as always (no one is spared from his cheating and tricks, not even you). Joshua smiles adoringly at everyone and is a gentleman so he gets a free pass either way. Minghao might be a little more quiet than normal but I see people brushing it off because Minghao isn’t the most outgoing member on variety shows. Seungkwan is a professional host anyway so his interactions with you would appear normal (although his tone and gaze might be a bit softer). Vernon… is just Vernon. He stares blankly, interacts with others normally, and takes frequent sips of water. Whether or not his gaze is fixed on you or not, no one can tell. 

☘︎ On the inside though, he’s squealing at how good you look, how cool you look, how adorable you are. He makes a mental note to give you extra hugs and affection later because watching you makes him fall in love with you all over again. He loves you so much, but at this point when you both aren’t comfortable publicising your relationship, he will do everything in his power to remain professional. He knows you are doing the same. You both want to keep your relationship out of the public eye and the unsolicited comments that come along with it. So for now, he’s content with showering you in love in private. 

☘︎ And just say that he slips up slightly, or if the hosts/ viewers makes any unsolicited comments about the two of you possibly being in a relationship, he will brush them off by saying he’s just being supportive of his fellow idols. He will be very firm about it, and he would make sure that they know not to try and pry into your private lives further. 

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee

#seventeen #caratsland #k-labels #illuminated ocean.net #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen headcanons #svt fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #joshua hong x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dk x reader #minghao x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #shu's archive ✎ᝰ.

[steddiealltheway]

“We shouldn’t do this,” Steve pants against Eddie’s lips, rushing to kiss him again as Eddie pins him further against his front door.

Eddie breaks the kiss with a hum, pressing another kiss against the corner of Steve’s lips and across the two moles of his face before kissing down his neck. “We really shouldn’t,” Eddie agrees, voice low before he softly bites at Steve’s neck.

Steve groans as his head thuds back against his front door. “This is such a bad idea,” he breathes out, closing his eyes as Eddie sucks a bruise into his neck.

“The worst,” Eddie says, pulling back with a wet smack to admire his work before pressing his thumb against the sore skin.

Steve bites his bottom lip and pulls his hands away from Eddie’s waist. “We should stop.”

Eddie nods and takes a few steps back away from him. “We should.”

Steve stares at him for a moment nodding. Really it’s for the best. There’s no way they’d work out. And Steve isn’t really one for flings anymore. He wants the real deal. And Eddie doesn’t want that. He’s sure of it. And if they were to cross this line any further, Steve wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crossing it again.

Steve’s eyes track down to where Eddie’s chest is heaving up and down as he stares at him, hair slightly wild from where Steve’s hands were before. Then, Eddie slowly wets his lips, and Steve’s done for.

They both move together as if an unstoppable force is controlling them, crashing their lips together as their hands roam freely, Steve’s hands smoothly gliding against Eddie as Eddie’s nails scratch over him. Steve can’t get enough of it.

Eddie pulls away and grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Wait, wait, wait. The kids. We can’t do this to them.”

Steve nods. “Of course we can’t. They’d freak out if they found out.”

“So we should stop.”

“Definitely.”

They both stare at each other, eyes searching the other’s to find some hint of reluctance and give. Eddie’s hands slowly slip down Steve’s arms as he pulls away from him again.

As soon as Eddie’s hands leave Steve’s body, Steve reaches out and latches onto them. He shrugs. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Eddie’s eyes light up as he smiles, moving forward to kiss Steve again, but this time, Steve can feel him smiling into it. He practically melts when he realizes it, but quickly pulls away again. “Wait.”

Eddie fully stops and stares at him with no hint of frustration which warms Steve’s heart. Steve sighs and rests his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. “We should stop while we can.”

Eddie tilts his head down and pressed a soft kiss against Steve’s head. “We should.”

Steve squeezes his arm and steps back, trying to even out his breathing as he walks Eddie to the door.

It’s a strange deja vu that accompanies the walk, mirroring how they ended up like this in the first place. Eddie had stayed behind to help Steve clean up after the kids left, and as Steve walked him to the door, they both lingered in their goodbyes. And then something broke between them, and Steve’s unsure who kissed who first.

But as Steve’s hand finds the door handle again, he finds himself hesitating. Eddie smiles shyly at him and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Steve nods and pulls the door fully open this time. “Thank you for helping me clean up and… everything.”

Eddie chuckles and buries his hands in his pocket with a shrug. “Anytime.”

Steve swallows, wanting to take him up on his offer and turn anytime into right now. But he just steps back and says. “Goodbye, Eds.”

“Bye, Stevie,” Eddie says, walking through the door and offering him a slight wave.

Steve returns it before softly shutting the door. He thuds his head against it and takes a deep breath. It’s for the best.

But is it?

How are they going to navigate things from here? It’s not like Steve will be able to easily forget this; he’s always going to long for this. And the bruise isn’t going to fade in a day. Will it remain as a torturous reminder of what could’ve been?

Steve sighs. “Fuck this,” he says pulling the door open only to find Eddie on the other side, hand raised as if to knock.

Eddie hurriedly says, “I can’t just… we can’t. This is…” He steps through the doorway and cups Steve’s face. “I can’t pass up this opportunity. Not when I’ve waited forever for this.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “Waited forever?”

Eddie huffs out a humorless laugh. “Steve, I’ve liked you for so long, and I don’t care if you don’t want more. It’s pathetic, but I’ll take what I can get. And if that’s just friends with benefits then-”

“What?” Steve asks, overwhelming confused and rushing to catch up.

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against Steve’s. “Just kiss me again please.”

Steve takes a small step back and watches as Eddie’s face falls. “No, no. It’s not… Eddie, you like me?”

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets. “I won’t ever mention it again. Don’t worry. I should go.”

He turns to leave, and Steve rushes to grab his arm. “Stop. Wait.”

Eddie hesitantly turns to him with regret and embarrassment written all over his face.

“Eddie, I like you, too. I thought you would want this to only be a fling which is why I said it was a bad idea. I knew if I let myself cross that line with you, I could never go back.”

Eddie pauses and steps closer to him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Steve states as he reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “And I’d really like to kiss you again. Go on a date even. Maybe even fall in love or something,” Steve says with a laugh.

Eddie laughs and rushes forward, pulling Steve into a tight hug. “God, I never thought this was possible.”

“Me either,” Steve confesses, pulling Eddie in tighter.

They melt into the hug and slowly pull back, moving in naturally to kiss each other, sweetly and slowly now that they have all the time in the world. And they’re going to use it well.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #happy thanksgiving?

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[froggies-bloggies]

There’s something so oddly unique about not fitting in but not the way that others have trouble fitting in

I don’t have trouble with sarcasm, in fact I use it so much people never know if I’m being genuine or not

And my teasing comes off as combative but I’m just trying to play and be friendly

I like to deep dive into meaningless things and poke at things that annoy others by playing with words but not things that I think would ever hurt other people

And idk not fitting in properly, to many sharp edges even though I’ve tried to file them down

#I really miss my bestie #I can even be too sharp for my own family sometimes and that sucks #I really don’t mean to be #I had a conversation about saying afternoon today #(context: it wasn’t the afternoon in fact it was evening but I guess maybe I played too much? it was technically after noon) #and I thought we were having fun but maybe we weren’t??? #and one of my coworkers was saying that her kids were telling her to say a word differently because it was the ‘American way’ #*she’s British #and I said the kids were right while completely joking #and of my coworkers said I must have been feeling combative #and I was definitely in a mood but I guess I was feeling more comedic? idk #and I also made a really really stuipid joke where someone said to our coworker something about being week and another said his boi wasn’t #weak #and I said how could he not be week it’s Thursday which was a terrible joke but…. I’m wondering if it might have seemed mean by accident #I feel like I’m 8 again too sharp and too mean without meaning to be but also I don’t really think in the moment anything is wrong??? like I #just don’t realize it?? #and I was talking with another coworker and she said I can definitely come off as combative which isn’t the intention I guess? #but then she said it was a her thing and I felt really bad cause I genuinely don’t want to hurt other people #anyways….. #nic writes

[zwhoreo]

mommy kink luffy? 👀

ok so I don’t think luffy would ever actually use the word mommy but I think the rest of the kink can apply hehehe

nurture me - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: missing the comfort of a nurturing female figure as a child, luffy sometimes turns to you to get that feeling back. and sometimes, he wants sex

contains: mommy kink (the word mommy is never mentioned), very innocent luffy, he’s pretty sub in this one, soft dom reader

words: 2k

_______________________________

Luffy is upset today, he’s not sure why, he’s feeling this rush of some sort of unplaceable loneliness even though he isn’t alone at all, surrounded by people to love and spend time with and hug. He had fallen and broken a stack of glasses in the kitchen yesterday, and he was chastised for his clumsiness, smacked by Nami, shoved out by Sanji. He had cut his arm on the glass, nothing deep, nothing a couple bandaids from Chopper’s office couldn’t fix, but it still made him a little sad and distressed for some reason. He needed comfort but pushed it away and forgot about it.

So now he’s sitting on the bow of the ship and picking at the bandaids. He wants to go bother you, he needs some comfort, a hug from you seems to be an immediate fix for times like these. And maybe something more, he thinks, like playtime, sort of.

You’re reading a book Robin gave you, curled up on your cabin’s chair, the porthole open next to you for that crisp sea breeze. You’re delighted at those little sandal steps, your door opening, large, glittery eyes looking at you excitedly.

Luffy hops on your bed, rolling on his back and kicking his legs and reaching for you, a teasing grabbing motion with his fists. Absolutely adorable.

You lean over to take his hand, he squirms and giggles at the contact and he’s smiling so brightly.

“[naaame]…” he whines, trying to pull you to him but you pull instead, still holding his stretched arm as you sit back in the chair. He pouts and stretches his other arm out to you.

“No pulling, Luffy,” you say, gently removing one arm from your waist knowing his intention to yank you into bed.

“Please… can we please cuddle… I wanna really bad…” Luffy’s squirming again, begging, you just can’t resist him.

You set down your book, walking over to your bed and sitting by him which makes him squeal in delight and open his arms for a hug. You lay back and pull him up onto you, letting him bury his head in your chest and find a comfortable position as you pet his hair.

He likes to be nurtured. It’s a childish part of him that comes out sometimes, especially when he thinks about his old village and Ace and Sabo and Shanks, when he misses getting to play and explore all day and just be a kid. But he didn’t really have anyone back then to take care of him like this. Makino was the closest, he got a taste of the affection a mother could bring, but mostly he was just raised by himself and his brothers, and bandits, and he wasn’t really ever cuddled or held when he was young. So now you’re his person, he gets to be extra close to you and he’ll never be too much.

And usually he’s more dominant, even in his innocence and softness, he’s your captain and you’re his to take care of and keep safe, he picks you up and carries you and holds you against his chest, you’re his, he likes being in control.

But that doesn’t have to be always.

Those times like now where he paws at you and lays on you all slack like a baby, you just curl up with your arms around him and murmur comforting things in his ear. There’s those deer eyes again, searching, he’s leaning in to kiss you and you catch him halfway with his cheeks squished in your hands. Arms circle your waist needily and this poor boy has squirmed his way between your legs because he wants friction, maybe.

“Lu, hun, what do you want?” you coax gently, tracing his shoulders, you know he wants you so bad but he has to try to say what he wants if he wants something, that’s what you’re teaching him.

“Um… I dunno, I guess uh…” Luffy’s mind is cloudy, he wants your body but he doesn’t know what to ask for so when your thigh comes to naturally rest between his legs he just settles for this, at least.

You laugh lightly as he begins to grind on your leg, hips rutting, rhythmic but messy, he starts making these little whimpering noises in your ear as he rubs himself on you like a puppy in heat. You let him, hugging gently and just laying there listening.

“I… mm! I wanna suck your breasts?” He seems excited to have found words, talking casually as he continues to get himself off on your thigh, aching and growing beneath his pants. You can’t refuse him.

“Sure, hun.” This is perfect because you’re a little tired. Let your boy enjoy himself and relax with him and it’ll all be ok. And you pull off your shirt, you let him see you, and he grins before squeezing you tightly and latching on, suckling gently on your nipple while looking up at you with stars in his soft brown eyes.

“S’ good…” he growls, mouth full, nuzzling and gripping against you.

You lift him into your arms after a few minutes, when he gets teeth-y with your skin, he whines at the loss of contact with his mouth but lets you pick him up and place him in your lap, squeezing his face in your hands, giving him a caring hug.

“Luffy, baby, you want more, huh? C’mon…” You place your hand on the small of his back, rubbing his skin.

“Mmf… I wanna put my dick in you,” he says, voice in the most amount of innocence he could possibly sound with those words. You weren’t expecting this, usually he’s more innocent when you two play, when he asks for something, but you won’t complain.

You smile. You pet him lovingly, gentle praise. You kiss his cheek and then his mouth and he’s still in a teething mood so you need to pull away when he bites your lip, but you press his face into your neck because you always like biting there.

“Want some help?” you coo to him, tugging at his clothes, and he nods happily against you and makes a tiny sound.

His shirt is open, easy to slide off. Glistening warm skin meets the cool sunlight of the porthole, wave reflections, he’s so beautiful when you can see his bare shoulders. You take a moment to lean in and kiss them. And then his jeans, you have to sort of pick him up again to unbutton and remove them and his cock slaps your wrist, no underwear, you ignore your aching need to touch it and continue to take care of him, settling his twitching hips and tossing his clothes to the side.

Soft and bare, dripping with sweetness and innocence, he’s draped on you, sitting in your lap, naked and waiting to be touched in a gentle way.

Your shirt’s off. Now your jeans, your panties, Luffy starts moaning and thrusting into nothing at your scent and the feeling of your skin but you have to calm him.

“No, baby, let’s be patient ok?” You poke his cheek and he whines but just curls into you a little more, trying to wait like you’ve taught him.

You switch the positions of your legs, you’re on his lap, propped up on the bed, sort of straddling him, he’s sitting in front of you with his cock rubbing through your wetness, eyes hooded in pleasure, he’s waiting for your command because he’s yours to comfort and hold and protect right now.

“[naaame]…” he whines in such a little voice, staring up through his hair, begging.

“Move like this…” you murmur, lining up his hips so he can rub against you for a while, and get you wet. He does so in a careful way, biting his lip as he tries not to plunge within you just yet. You’re still so tired, you want lazy, careful sex. But Luffy’s the one who needs to be looked after and cared for right now. Nurture me, is what his eyes say, mind in a space so far away.

So once you’re warmed up and once Luffy’s being tortured by need and the rising and falling of his chest is pressed to you with brutal pressure, you smile and reach down to line him up yourself. He squeaks as he feels the touch of your hand down there, and the cocoon of velvet enveloping him, you can move just be gentle like I taught you, your smile says.

So he does. Instinctual thrusting fueled by pure love and appreciation, his hands reaching to grip your ass and lift you up more against him, he’s getting a little more dominant but just in an excited, playful sort of way. You hold him, you put your arms around his shoulders and breathe in his scent.

“So good, Lu, you’re doing so well…” you whisper in his ear as he works you into pulp, grabby hands, needy whines.

He likes to feel grown up but still be cared for. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he likes to be shown how. He likes to be cradled but to feel you so deep, his infinitely loving girlfriend who knows his needs, who would give him the world.

It comes eventually, that confusing knot in his stomach, now is the time he wants to be held the most. You squeeze him so tight and let him squirm in your arms as you carry him in coaxing gentleness through his powerful climax. He drips within you, you’ve claimed him with the comforting warmth of your body.

You make sure to pull him out and wipe him off and even in his hazy, submissive state he still makes sure to rub your hips and thighs and make sure you’re ok and nothing hurt you. “Was that good? Did I do good?” he murmurs as he squirms onto his back in your arms like a cat looking for affection.

“So good.”

Luffy’s restless now, he needs to occupy his mouth which he often does before sleep for self-soothing, and he’s going to nurse right now, curled up in your arms. So he reaches for your breasts again but that’s when you see his arm.

“Hey Lu, what’s that? Did you hurt yourself?” You lift his forearm for examination and he blushes in slight shame. Because you then say, “when did this happen? You shoulda told me!”

“Um, yesterday. I dunno… I fell and broke some glasses and I thought you’d get mad, it’s just a scratch, I’m fine.” He avoids your eyes.

“I’d never be mad at you for something like that, it’s ok, accidents happen.” You run your hand through his hair. “These bandaids aren’t fresh, we gotta get you new ones, hun…”

“N- no! Don’t leave… I don’t wanna let go!” Because he’s attached to you in a tight embrace and can’t picture a world without your arms right now.

“It’ll just be a minute-”

“Carry meee! Please, please, please-” He’s scrambling up your body as you begin to sit up so you let him. You stand up shakily because Luffy is glued to your back, arms around your shoulders and face buried in your neck.

You get bandaids from your cabinet, you have to pry Luffy off of you and let him curl up in your lap again so you can gently change clean and re-bandage his scraped arm. This protective kindness lulls Luffy, it makes him sleepy and happy and like he needs to take a long nap with you which, from the beginning, is what you were excited for. Pulling a curtain over the porthole you’re back to laying on your bed, letting Luffy drift off with his mouth on your breast, calming and grounding for both of you. His hands find yours in his dreamy state, holding on, wanting you to know how much he loves you, in a quiet and innocent way.

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