#i tried to imitate it was very fun

[gavran-vrani]

father-daughter bonding time

#if it's not clear she hates him #i tried to imitate the style of scott wills with this one #it was very fun #my art #wolf #wolves #canine #animal #animal art #woods #forest #digital art #painting #oc #original character #vrana #oc: vrana #and her unnamed dad

[camels-pen]

got inspired by a fic i read the other day, but didn't quite hit the right spots for me so. time to write out a new wip idea

The concept of that fic really grabbed me - Jason and Tim having a bodyswap the same day Jason wakes up in his coffin, at a point after Tim had already visited Bruce and Alfred with his insistence that Batman needed a Robin - but for what I was thinking, by the time Jason convinces Bruce and Alfred of who he is, Tim's already started to dig himself out of the coffin. And when the three of them show up at the cemetery, the grave's empty.

Tim would be catatonic and go through much of the same stuff canon Jason went through before being found and dunked in the Pit. He'd end up enduring the whole League of Assassins shtick that canon Jason went through while at the same time Jason is dealing with Tim's regular person life. Both of them struggled a bit trying to imitate the other, but they managed- Tim with not much issue considering no one in the LoA was close to Jason, and Jason trying to manage Janet Drake's clearly growing concern every time he slips up.

Like, imagine Tim, desperately trying to imitate what he knows of Jason from watching Robin on the streets and seeing Jay in a few galas here and there. And one day, Talia tries to tell him he'd been quickly replaced to get him to finally listen and Kill Somebody/accept he was staying with the League until they deemed him fit to leave.

And Tim looks at a picture of himself, hanging around the front yard of Wayne Manor with Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. Another picture showing himself in an ill-fitting Robin uniform on a rooftop and seemingly getting lectured by Batman, who looms in front of him.

And he says "I'm not buyin' it."

Somehow convinces Talia that he's not convinced that the Tim in the photo (who is probably Jason and thank god, Tim was really worried about what happened to Jason's mind- or rather, his own body; he didn't actually consider Jason coming back to life until now) and she arranges a short trip for him to Gotham to see for himself.

Tim really struggles the next two days to keep up the Jason act, but he's pretty sure Talia and the others were just chalking it up to nerves at seeing his family again and the "newest addition".

When he finally gets to Gotham, he doesn't bother being stealthy. He doesn't have the skills- no matter how much Ra's and Talia's goons have been trying to beat it into him- and even if he did, he doubted he'd be able to sneak away from his own teachers that were stalking him from the shadows.

So he does his best to be casual. Walks straight towards Wayne Manor, and when he can actually start to hear his assassin stalkers the tiniest bit as he approaches the gate- a sign they're getting really restless- he decides now or never and bolts the rest of the way.

He thinks, if he had come sooner to Gotham, he would've tried fitting through the gaps in the bars- as if he was still 13 and small enough to fit- but as it is, Tim's spent 6 months in this body and he's not going to make that mistake.

Instead he slams a hand on the buzzer and says as fast as he can, "it's Tim! Tim Drake! There's assassins, open the gate!"

He has a heartstopping moment when nothing happens- when there's no answer and the ninjas are getting closer and closer and- And then it opens and Tim doesn't stop with his relief, he runs.

The door is opened not by Mr. Pennyworth, but by Bruce himself, a belt clipped around his waist, but entirely in sleepwear. He has something in his other hand and as he yells, "duck!" Tim can only think it's some kind of bomb and dives for the ground.

He was sort of right. It was a smoke bomb. He heard and smelled it hissing away behind him, and saw the cloud of smoke in his peripheral vision.

Bruce wasted no time running past him and barking, "Follow Alfred to the cave!" Tim took a moment to just breathe, feeling much more safe with Batman fighting to protect him. When Bruce looked back at him through a spot in the smoke, he yelled, "Go!"

Tim scrambled to obey, trying to run and stand and awkwardly doing both to get in the home. Mr. Pennyworth was just inside the foyer, out of sight of the windows, now that Tim noticed, and holding a shotgun.

He was also wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.

Tim blinked. "Uhhh,"

"Come along, Master Tim. We must be quick."

He didn't protest and followed him down to the Cave, where Jason in Tim's body sat waiting at the Batcomputer.

Man, I'm not completely sure on the timing, but imagine Tim finally getting back into his body and it's- he's taller than he used to be, bulkier too. And there are reflexes and muscle memory stuff he doesn't remember at all, but now just has.

He- he was Robin. Or, his body at least, and he felt like it. But he never was Robin. Not really. He never got a proper outing, never even received Bruce's official approval for it.

It was strange. And not totally a good strange.

He thought about the body he had. He didn't have a lot of love for it- puberty would do that to anyone- but it was his. And that saying about not knowing what you have until you lose it? Yeah.

Tim felt like crying.

#dc #bodyswap #tim drake #nemotime #didnt really focus on the jason bits here but if i ever actually write this- jay would probably get more of a comedy/humour role? #like yeah they gotta find tim and tim's parents are genuinely concerned and all #but much of it would be just funny shenanigans of Jason being saddled with two sets(?) of worried parents #and just when he manages to get things sort of under control. Dick shows up #i havent yet decided if he just becomes Very Annoying Older Sibling who has no idea how to process his emotions currently #and tries to fall back on tried and true tactics #OR if he is in Complete Denial and thinking this was just an elaborate ruse by Tim & lists the exact ways Tim would know how to imitate Jay #(he's right and each accusation/point would probably be juxtaposed with a brief switch in scenes to whatever Tim is currently up to #which also happens to prove Dick's point exactly even though no one can except the audience can see that) #Jay would knock sense into Dick eventually but the point is. I could make his life humourous suffering :3 #Either way Dick would show up some time after Bruce remembers to call him & he would Not leave the manor until Tim is back safe and sound #(not for Jason obviously. pfft. Jason's just fine. Dick doesn't need to stay at the manor to make sure of it. He's just staying to find Tim #okay. realistically. this would just be a hella lot of angst. However! Having that shift from Angst with Tim to Laughing at Jason would be. #so fun. #tho i'd probably still sprinkle in some Angst with Jason bc i cant help myself lol

[perplexingly]

For the ask game! 7?

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

I think sculpting is the most incredible to me, it also used to inspire me more than anything, as a medium that forces you to think about the composition in all the dimensions

#there was a period of time when my art was very um spiraly #like I tried to imitate the kind of feeling you’d have when rotating a sculpt #fun times #ask game

[pbaintthetb]

It hits Wuxian like a bullet to the brain, Jiang Cheng sneers when Wuxian says he thinks he might have an idea as to how to walk through the herd, and it just hits him. "You think I caused this, don't you?" His brother doesn't say anything, just wipes the viscera off his knife and scowls at the heavily barracade door. Heavily barracaded it may be, they both know it won't be enough. Not for long enough. The sneers, the looks, the- the everything. "I would never," Wei Wuxian insists hotly. Because sure, things had been bad, ruined- not ruined before the world had imploded itself, but they've taken a new turn. And Wei Wuxian doesn't want his brother to think him capable of this- doesn't want to belive his brother could believe him capable. Not really, not truly. But the evidence is here. He does. "What's the genius plan then?" Jiang Cheng asks, pushing forward, ignoring. Just ignoring. Never listening. Taking and- Not before, not when- "I wouldn't do this." Wei Wuxian reiterates. "And you have to know that." Maybe death is better than living when his brother thinks this of him. His brother's eyes sweep up and over, calculating and brimming with ice. "No, I know you never stick around to deal with your messes." Jiang Cheng sweeps out a hand, at the barricaded door, the starving mass outside, the weapons bedecking their person. For a brief hysteric moment Wei Wuxian can envision Jiang Cheng making the exact same gesture to Jin Ling to get him to clean up his room. Then the reality quickly rolls back in. And the relief. Because- "You-" "You just create them. And you never think about the consequences you create. And you mess with things you shouldn't." Jiang Cheng speaks over him, smile terrible and wide. "Don't worry, A-Xian, I know this isn't your mess, but that doesn't mean it isn't your fault."

when you have a fun idea but wwx would never explictly call JC out on his bullshit so. rip. so OOC for wwx alas

#vibe was (probs modern) zombie au #where actually wwx and jc find each other as survivors like to think jc (and friend?) accidentally stumbles across wwx's group #obvs iwth all their histor #and it's very awkard #and at some point wwx starts to realise/wonder if the reason jc is so extra petty at him is like #also because it's fun i should clarify just becuase jc doesn't think wwx is the necromancer who created the apocalyspe #he does stil think it's wwx's fault in the sense that he thinks someone tried to imitate wwx and fucked it up #so he blames wwx for messing around with this shit in the first place #he also kind of doesn't blame him but where most people may blame god for inconvienieces jc blames wwx #tumblr fic #to jc's surprise wwx does not leave him there to die despite him being a prick #admittedly jc was sceptical wwx would really have a way out cos he considers himself a thorn in wwxs side so he's like rip im dying here #wwx does not consider him a thorn more like a misplaced rib #jc thinks wwx should be worried that he (jc) is going to fuck up wwx's life and reputation with his group #wwx doesn't really ahve the capacity to worry about things jc will or he won't but he hasn't so he probably won't #also if jc calls him out then they have to TALK about it and he's banking on the fact that JC hates talking as much as he does

[ghostfacd]

WIRED AUTOCOMPLETE. | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. in which you and tom make a special appearance on wired’s autocomplete interview

installment of this au | recommend reading for more context

“Hi — we’re Y/N Avocot and Tom Blyth — and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview!”

You’re both handed a white board, bigger than your face, and there’s a list of questions with some of the words covered.

“Do you want to go first?” Tom asks, giving you a small smile.

“Yes! I’m pretty excited actually,” you begin to peel off the first question. “Okay, first question: what was Y/N Avocot’s first role?”

You think for a moment, “well in terms of roles in general, my first acting role was very small and I believe it was for this ice cream commercial as a kid. I’m not sure if it’s still up but my mom had signed me up for it and they thought I was a really cute kid so they casted me.”

Tom laughs, “really?” He then retrieves his board from the crew. “Okay my turn. Why does Coriolanus Snow turn evil?”

That question makes you slightly giggle, because it’s so broad that it’s nearly impossible for Tom to narrow down exactly what it is that made Coriolanus suddenly switch. “I believe you should be asking Suzanne Collins, shout-out to her for making the entire trilogy and prequel. But honestly? I think he was always power hungry, and even though Tigris tried her very best to bring out the humanity in him, it was just never enough. Especially after Sejanus’s death, I think Coriolanus realized there was no going back.”

“Oh wow,” you say, very impressed with how he decided to answer it. “That was a terrific answer Tom.”

“Thank you m’lady.” You giggle at his antics, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“What role does Y/N Avocot play in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes?” You clear your throat, imitating one of your character’s iconic resting bitch face.

“I play Balleona Laurent, duh.” You joke. “Anyway, yes, I play Balleona, also known as Leona. She’s originally from the Capitol just like Coriolanus. They met at the academy and she automatically knew she had to have him. She comes from the Laurent family, which is a very very wealthy, well off, intimidating family that Coriolanus knows he just has to get into, which is why they start dating. I don’t wanna spoil too much of Leona and Corio in the movie, soooo you guys should definitely check it out!”

“Alright,” Tom adjusts himself in his seat, ripping off the paper for the next question. “Does Tom Blyth have a girlfriend?”

He pretends to think, which makes you bite your lip, suppressing a laugh. “Hmm, very complex question.”

“Oh give the people what they want!” You tease, “yes he does. He’s inlove with Jennifer Lawrence.”

“I am not inlove with Jennifer Lawrence!” He exclaims quickly, “although I greatly admire her work. My girlfriend is Y/N Avocot over here, sadly.”

“Sadly?!” You fake offense, “cut the cameras. I’m gonna beat Tom up.”

You peel away at your next question, the interview already being loads of fun for the both of you. “Is Y/N Avocot a good singer?”

Your head falls forward, and Tom’s automatic instinct is to catch you, not realizing you’re only joking. “Oh God, I hope so!” You say, laughing as you pick your head up. “I’m no Mariah Carey but I like to think I’m a pretty okay singer.”

“More than okay,” Tom chimes in, which makes you laugh.

“Aw, thanks Tom.”

Tom reaches to peel another question off. “Is Tom Blyth American?” This question makes you almost spit out the water you were currently taking a sip out of. “Well, a lot of people get shocked when I say I’m from the UK. I mean, is my American accent that good?”

“Guess so,” you shrug. “Okay next. Is Y/N Avocot in The Summer I Turned Pretty?”

You clasp your hands together excitedly, giving the camera a wide smile. “Yes! I play Maekella Fisher, also known as Ella Fisher, Steven Conklin’s love interest and sister to Conrad and Jeremiah. The first season airs out soon so please stay tune for that! I’m so excited to be apart of this amazing show with such amazing people.”

“I always come to watch her on set,” Tom says, “they’re all such funny and charismatic people. I swear I’ve became friends with everyone on Y/N’s cast.”

“Okay, my last question,” Tom peels off the paper, grinning. “Will Tom Blyth star in another movie soon?”

He smirks, eyes playfully looking into the camera. “Who knows? But I do know that something exciting will be coming out soon so prepare yourselves!”

“Way to tease the crowd Blyth,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Anyway! My last question, this was quick. What is Y/N Avocot’s skincare routine? Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one.”

You sit on the edge of your seat, and Tom finds it endearing that you’re so excited about something as small as this.

“First, I rinse my face with cold water and I dip my face in a bowl of ice and water for 3 minutes. Afterwards, I put on my dewy toner from Innisfree, it’s so smooth and nice. Sometimes I’m too lazy for this step but I also put on sunscreen, it’s important so I always remind myself to not forget— but I love to use Supergoop Unseen’s Sunscreen. I use drunk elephant’s bronze drops if I wanna go for a sunkissed look that day, but I usually don’t. And then I just shake my Tower facial spray and spray it all over my face. Usually, I touch up my eyebrows and do my eyeliner but that’s really about it!”

“It’s true,” Tom adds. “She asked me if I could go buy her the tower spray yesterday because she was almost out.”

“No need to expose me like that,” you say, clinging your arms onto his. “Well thank you guys for watching!”

“Thank you!” Tom and you wave at the camera, smiling brightly.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosbas #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 8

[prompt: phone sex]

male reader x shin ryujin

16k words

The phone rings one too many times, and Ryujin is in the middle of scrunching up the paper slip that Chaeryeong handed her earlier that afternoon when she hears your voice.

The sounds of her scrambling for the receiver and her head smacking against the headboard come through in pretty good quality.

That never gets old.

"Stimulating conversations," you offer smoothly, like it isn't a euphemism and instead some high-brow intellectual pursuit. "How can I help you?"

Ryujin is speechless for an unbearable five, ten seconds until she lets out the kind of low chuckle that probably sounds better than it looks. "Hi," she says, "hello, I, uh- I don't know how all of this works."

"Why don't we start with who you're looking to speak with tonight?" you ask.

Ryujin sighs. She runs a hand through her hair, looking at the messy tangle of clothes on her bedroom floor with mild resentment. She’ll take her chances, figuring a direct approach is the best route when she doesn't really know where any of the lines get drawn or who is allowed to say what and who isn't.

"Um. Okay. Who you got?"

"We have a large variety of operators to suit any taste," you explain kindly. She appreciates that. "Do you have someone specific in mind? A gender perhaps, to start?"

"Well," Ryujin starts, running her tongue along the edges of her teeth. Lia has this thing she constantly says, that there's always a thousand and one reasons not to do something, and Ryujin is the first person to make fun of her for it - but here she is, finally putting that adage to use.

"I was actually calling to, um," she exhales loudly. "A guy? I mean look - girls. Girls are great, but if you - mmm." She clears her throat. Because she knows how she wants to do this, and it's most definitely: "A man."

You wait for a second before replying, and Ryujin allows the stillness to expand over and fill out every corner of her bedroom before a bright, "Alrighty, well," comes filtering out her phone, tinny but as enticing as ever. "That would be me."

"Oh."

"Yeah," you reply, easy and unhurried. You sound exactly like the kind of person whose company people pay handsomely to be around; the professionalism is undeniable, but there's something to be said for your tone. The softness to the vowels, the almost imperceptible upward lilt to the words - Ryujin gets that, maybe.

You're pretty confident in the answer, but you ask anyway, "have you ever done anything like this?"

Ryujin opens her mouth and hesitates for a brief moment.

"Well," she muses. She's tried porn, she's tried her own fantasies, she's tried cranking up the hot water and touching herself with the head of the shower aimed somewhere she's told by other girls: it's there, free of charge. "I haven't."

"But you have a boyfriend," you state. "You have a man, who you enjoy things with?"

Ryujin laughs nervously. "It's...it's been a little while. Not recently. Sorry. I know you don't-"

"No, no, not at all, you're doing fine, it's just that you sound very attractive over the phone. Excuse the assumption."

Ryujin laughs and rakes her fingers through her fringe. She knows it's a line, but she laughs anyway. She could - if she was looking for the deranged fulfillment of it - pore through a billion comments on instagram, on twitter that call her a lot of things: gorgeous, beautiful, hot. The last comment she read before almost deleting her app entirely was someone who decided to textually imitate a dog barking to a picture Yeji had taken of her in a coffee shop. There's a novelty, she thinks, in being charmed by someone who has no idea who she is.

"You have good ears then," she says, smirking into the receiver. "So do you normally do, what, ask questions? I have no idea."

"Yeah, it helps me build a profile," you reply, "but if you had something else in mind-"

"No, please, shoot." She grabs the pillow from behind her back and flops against the mattress, staring up into the ceiling fan.

"Do you feel comfortable sharing your age with me?"

"Twenty," she answers without missing a beat, even though that isn't right. It's weirdly important to her, keeping it private, and she isn't sure why - but then you say something pleasant and complimentary about college and new experiences that she's unable to register, and you ask her for her name so quick she just blurts it out:

"Ryujin."

"Pretty."

"Fuck," Ryujin grins, immediately chewing on her knuckle to bite back a gasp. "Sorry. The name is cute or, whatever. Whatever. Sorry for the curse. God, I don't really have a filter - what about you? Do you have a name, Mr. Operator?"

"I do."

Ryujin lifts a leg up and puts it down again. She doesn't know if she should already have taken off her pajamas or if that's weird. Or if the fact that it doesn't bother her means this is more or less wholesome. She turns over onto her stomach, humming into the phone and now she doesn't know why she's thinking about your face. You could be- well, fuck, you could be anyone, but there's this gnawing compulsion to put something together.

You tell her your name and she scoffs for a second, before quieting down and returning you a, "pretty."

"Ryujin, tell me." There's probably a slightly too long pause from your end of the line before you get on with asking her, "when was your last orgasm?"

She drops the phone right in her face. It bounces off the bridge of her nose before landing in bedsheets beside her and her eyes are welling with tears while she scrambles blindly across her bed, cursing into the receiver and squirming. She pulls the phone to her ear and catches the last couple seconds of you reassuring her that it's okay, that it's completely fine if she's hung up or gone.

"Actually, I have," and she curls her fingers into a fist, "never came in my whole life."

You clear your throat to keep a less than professional sound from coming out. A quiet space she feels necessary to fill: “Not even once.”

"Really?"

"I know. And I've only recently realized that's, uh - er- a pretty un-normal thing." Ryujin makes a waving motion with her hand even though you can't see it, trailing off into silence and blushing furiously. "Sorry," she apologizes. She doesn't know what she’s apologizing for, but she does it again. "Sorry about that."

"I should be the one feeling sorry for you," you rib.

"Fucking tell me about it."

"Hey, this reminds me, would you be averse to the idea of touching yourself?"

The question stutters Ryujin in her tracks, and she doesn't even say no but a drawn-out "nngh" leaks out before she can stumble into something more intelligible. "Isn't that, like, what you're supposed to do on these calls?"

"Every call is different, Ryujin."

She chews on her lower lip, rolling it under her front teeth. You say her name like you know her, and it's throwing her for a loop. The comfort you have with the whole situation - asking her a million questions and not demanding answers, taking cues and reassurances in stride and turning everything into some sort of ploy for getting her naked. Fuck, she'll take a bit of a plunge:

"Should I be touching myself?"

"It's not my place to say."

"Okay, well that's kind of a frustrating answer."

"So you're saying you like being told what to do," you tell her, and you hear the sharp inhale in reply.

"If I knew what I liked, you think I'd be calling a sex hotline and hoping some stranger might take pity on me?"

You laugh out loud, and her response is the quickest, the cutest little, "seriously!" before she chuckles too.

"Ryujin?" you ask.

"Yeah?"

"Are you straight?"

She nearly chokes - because it's like you're able to just read her mind - and if you can do that then there's nothing you can't do, maybe. And here, excitement feels a lot like apprehension. She twists and curls in on herself, thighs rubbing together, the flat of her hand traveling across her stomach.

"I'm-"

"Because no one should have to pretend that they're interested in guys," you interrupt her and, god, for as much time as she's spent dwelling on that, she wishes it were that simple. 

It would be a hell of a lot easier if she knew why she wanted to get her face between Yeji's thighs and drag her tongue all over her clit until that prettier-than-perfect face of hers cinches up in a pleasure that comes with just the right amount of agony - or if she knew why she didn't feel anything like remorse or guilt or envy when her boyfriend came around instead of wanting, you know, to get on her knees with her mouth around his cock too -

Fuck, it's all very complicated.

"Straight," she answers. She likes cock, as much as anyone realistically can, and she knows the body on a man can get her dripping and easy in all the right ways. So, she just swallows. Says, "straight enough."

"If you were to touch yourself, right now, and someone - say, a man - were telling you exactly what to do: what would spring to mind, if anything."

"Mmm. Is this you asking me to touch myself?"

"Again. That's up to you."

Your voice is light. Very pleasant. Very male, Ryujin realizes. She gulps.

"Can you, I mean," she says, running a hand down the length of her thigh, pressing down at the hollow.

"Ryujin,” you say, letting her mull over how it sounds in your mouth. “Take a breath for me, please."

Her exhale leaves her with a heavy push and she tries not to laugh. Nervous tic. She's getting goosebumps, but she feels warmer than before.

"We could say this isn't the first time, you and me, in some very broad and abstract sense. How does that make you feel?"

"Strange." She touches her outer thighs again and arches her back. "Kind of horny," she admits. And it is odd - your words, the things you say - and maybe it's her nerves because the experience is new, and so are you, and so are her feelings, all wrapped in one.

"Do you want to do something about that?"

There's silence between you for what seems like a very long time, your breathing quiet but apparent - a signal you haven't abandoned her in some state of vulnerability. Ryujin inhales deeply. She's shaking in her fingertips. The tension has her taut and waiting, and that's funny, really, because it's what she's been doing for years. The rubbing. The touching.

Her hips rock forward gently and she answers the unasked question with a sweetly husked, "uh-huh."

"What are you wearing?"

"Ah, really?" Ryujin laughs. Her fingers pause at her waistline. "That old, bad porn trope."

"I like hearing about people's clothes, is all," you excuse yourself lightly. "Helps me get a sense of things."

"Yeah, alright. Sweats. Baggy ones." Her lips fall apart. "Shirt."

"Is that all? Nothing sexy."

"What's sexy?"

"Sexy is…"

She listens to you mull it over, listening for a ruffling or two. "For a girl with a nice body - some body - some curves," you continue, and Ryujin has to drop another finger to the hot line of her thigh, her lower belly. "You need lace. Silk. You've gotta leave the best bits a little hidden, at least for a while longer."

"Wow. You sound a hell of a lot like you'd enjoy taking someone's pants off," she half-teases. "Do you make all your calls like this? One sordid fantasy at a time, huh?"

"Something like that," you reply. And then, as if reading her mind, "are you doing anything, right now?"

"I'm touching myself," she exhales. "Are you?"

"Ryujin, not yet. Please be patient."

She makes a face even though you can't see it or taunt her. That's an unfair request - you have an unfair request.

"Just, wait," you tell her. She's drawing lazy, winding circles across her thigh. "Let me show you something, will you do that for me?"

"But, what."

"Tell me everything. All the things you're thinking. Things you want to do."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

She blinks away her initial disbelief and reaches around for her lamp to switch it off. Until it's just the hallway light peeking in through the crack between her door and the door jamb and you, a stranger who won't be seeing her face or hearing her say anything stupid. She shakes out a few more breaths, shuffles against the sheets, and glides her fingertips past her belly button.

Her hand rises up her stomach in one decisive movement, until her fingers curl beneath the bottoms of her bra, trapped in its underwire. "I'm thinking - unh - about, ah. My friend?"

You're quiet and let the silence linger, until she seems like she might not find her way; so you repeat, "Go ahead."

"And a guy she used to like, fuck, she'd show up here, drunk on, ah. A weeknight. Somewhere, fuck, around midnight. Walk past me into the kitchen where we had the - the light. God." Her hips stutter and she grits out the rest through her teeth. "In the refrigerator. Ah, yeah, a midnight snack. Always looked way too fucking good for, um, oh, for a casual booty-call."

"Does your friend have a name?"

"Yuna," she practically pants, and immediately realizes she shouldn't have said that either.

"Did you always know what was going on? Between Yuna and her-"

"Boy-toy, yes - it was so obvious, I always knew, yeah," she said, clumsily grabbing the sheets with one hand as she drifts further between the peaks. "Just - fuck - he'd be picking at, ah, something with chopsticks."

"In your kitchen?"

"My, uh, table. And I'd be working up the nerve to ask."

You sigh over the phone, "ask him what?"

"What it was, like, I knew she was only- shit." She keens high in her throat. "What it was like, fucking taking that cock of his, and bending Yuna's tight little, ah, ass over and, mm, railing her on the side of her fucking bed - and just pumping her full of cum just like that until- Jesus, she would walk around after and sometimes-"

You groan softly. This encouraging little sound.

"-fuck - sorry, I mean. Yeah, he, sometimes he'd make her walk around with his, ah, stuff inside. Down her fucking pants and, it's like, fucking disgusting, I swear-"

"And?" You breathe a heavy edged noise over the line.

Actually okay, so maybe this was more than she bargained for, maybe she bit off more than she can chew - maybe, she feels like her insides are collapsing; all the fire pooling around in her stomach and gathering into a melting sort of weightlessness.

"And it makes me feel fucking-"

"Fucking what."

"Why am I talking about this, why-"

"Talking to me? Fucking wet, Ryujin, answer the question."

She pants down at her phone and then turns her face into her forearm, rubbing and making sounds. She thinks about, oh, fucking Yuna and how she showed up to hang out once, with cum leaking down the crease of her inner thigh, smearing against her skin and down between her legs.

"Wet." She swallows. "How do I-"

"Say that you wish it was you," you tell her. "That you wanted that, to be fucked. To feel a cock inside."

Her head falls back. "That," she manages, "fucking, that."

You drawl so that the question might roll off, easy: "Is that the kind of girl you are? Told not to curse, not supposed to let anyone else play with you - you just need it, don't you? Do you need someone's cum? Just tell me."

"I think so, ah," and she stops moving her hand. "I think I'm gonna go now. This is fucking embarrassing, like. Okay, sorry."

"Don't hang up," you tell her, and the soft edge to it is one she really wants to indulge. "Don't," you repeat, a little louder.

You start talking, about the same sorts of things she's imagined herself: the sex and the sounds and what he can do to her. You build a slow and aching heat between her thighs that has her dripping through her underwear and grinding against her fingers. Telling her how she's the one that needs to be filled, needs a man who can wrap her legs around his waist, get to the deepest parts of her, the parts untouched and willing.

Ryujin gets that - she wonders, half out of it and stroking faster than she usually would be, how much of it has anything to do with who the voice is on the other end of the receiver, and how it could be what a desperate, pathetic, tired part of her has always wanted.

"Are you?" she asks, panting over the phone.

"Am I what?" you whisper back to her.

"Are you," and you hear how she inhales sharply through her nose, a desperate gasp leaving her lips on the exhale, "going to, um. Are you touching yourself right now?"

Your reply is immediate, and her eyes flutter and close the second you tell her exactly what she wants to hear:

"God, yes."

She drags her hand up the center of her body, runs her fingertips over her jaw and presses the heel of her wrist to her neck to feel her pulse slamming hard.

"I'm fucking throbbing, Ryujin; you sound gorgeous like this, like nothing I've ever heard, I'm stroking my cock just picturing you, please-"

"Tell me." She's mouthing into the center of her palm, saying the words, tasting salt and musk. "Fuck, ah," she babbles, "tell me what you would do with me."

"I'd get you on your knees," you tell her without hesitating for a beat.

"Fuck."

"I'd come up behind you and tell you not to be scared, baby. I wouldn't hurt you, I'd just touch you real gentle. Push my fingers past your tongue, slide a little down your throat."

"Uh huh," she moans, her head falling back and rolling, rocking against the mattress.

"Want you sucking on my fingers. Need your hands around my cock, or better, my balls, play with them. You're going to take those fingers - every finger I got, all five, yeah?- all ten of them," you joke, "and open up your tight cunt - like you are now, like such a good fucking girl-"

The girl fucking yelps. Just this honest sound of depravity; it's what she's paying you for. It's a silly line of bullshit, but it makes her bite hard and ache a little around her own knuckles and moan in her palm and dig her nails hard into her flesh. Her thumb fumbles across the top edge of her underwear and you pant again into her ear as if on cue, giving her a small bit of guidance that has her jolting in pleasure. She didn't know that was there, fuck, fuck-

"Like that, Ryujin. Breathe," and she does.

"Please," she whines, trying to find somewhere for her arm to settle, resting finally in her hair - setting the phone to speaker in a foolish moment of lapsed-judgment, just before it nearly clatters off the side of her bed.

Keep going - she's telling you over and over - keep going, and you’re picturing her there: eyes closed, legs spread wide, bent knees quivering and toes curling into the sheets. It doesn’t sound fake - you've heard a million of them, you've learned them in their different tones and accents and you can spot a faker a mile away. And the girl on the phone right now isn't pretending or thinking about whatever's happening somewhere else.

(You don't join in for everyone. You can't. It's an asinine consideration that you'd be rubbing your fist up and down your cock while it's sore and wanting - aching from the neglect or lack of rhythm. You have to remind yourself it's just a job, that the logistics just can't support such selflessness.

But then there's the very fucking premise.

That the girl on the other end of the line is inches from the goalposts, fingering her cunt and sighing into the throes of her first orgasm - first ever, because you did this, you brought her this far - you're the fucking culprit, and no matter how many girls, or boys-pretending-to-be-girls, how many people have gotten off with the help of your voice, your instruction, this one sets a different fucking precedent.

You're not lying when you say, "I'm rock fucking hard, Ryujin," or "there's precum all over my knuckles, baby."

Because there is, and the poor thing chokes out another desperate sound when you tell her.)

"I'm right there, ah, fuck, keep going-"

"I've got my hand around my shaft, just enough that I can fuck it, can't I? The head is getting slick - baby - and my palm is gliding nice and easy. Are you cumming, Ryujin? You better be, you better be cumming right now."

There's a heaving gasp and she calls out for you, babbling curses and "please" and "fuck" in alternating succession, with enough punctuation for you to have to let your lip slip under the hard bite of your front teeth. "Don't stop," she tells you, voice thready.

"You need this so bad."

"Yes," she gasps. "How would you-"

"How would I fuck you?" you finish her thought.

She waits a moment, sucking in shallow breaths and then replying weakly, "I really like... I like doggy."

"On your knees?"

"Yeah," she stammers, "I like when, like- ah, like, pulling my hair."

"Fuck, I love that," you say into her mewling. "Splayed out with your tits against a pillow and getting your pretty, little pussy pounded? I bet that'd feel so good, huh? Hands so rough on your hips, on your throat, squeezing your neck so you'll turn pink. Just to see you smile, I'd probably fucking let you take whatever you want."

You're met with a broken moan, a long string of syllables ending on a note that has your shoulders clenching and cock jumping in your grip.

Tense over the things you can't see: Ryujin biting down into the side of her hand, the other knocking painfully against the wooden side rail on her mattress, her thighs tightening and screaming and clamping around her wrist as she pulls weaker, wilder whimpers out of her chest each time her fingers drag across her slit and the sensitive curve of her swollen clit. She's dying, she thinks, she's going to fucking die - the in and out of her soaked pussy, through all that sticky, satiny skin, slick fingers diving in, twisting until there's nowhere for them to go.

No other recourse than to fuck in, fuck, fuck, like that, fucking god.

There's heavy silence on the line for god knows how long - well, you have to check the log. But for her, it feels like fucking forever. That was - that was it. It's so fucking mind-wracking how good it was, she can't quite wrap her brain around it. Nowhere near. She thinks she'll have a better idea after two rounds, definitely by four. She'll buy something, use the discount, go shopping - an orgasm just to make sure she's not bullshitting herself.

You clear your throat.

She moves sluggishly, away from the side and against the headboard - the heat still unbearably oppressive, her t-shirt clinging and sticking. "That," she stumbles through the afterglow.

"Do I need to apologize to you?" you ask lightly.

"What? Oh god, no - no way. No way. I just."

"Yes?"

"Like I didn't know it was this-"

"Did you just cum, Ryujin?"

She's laying there with the phone pressed to her brow. A hand palmed over her own racing pulse. The faint smell of her own cunt lingering around her face.

"I don't know," she tells you, and promptly hangs up.

-

The darkness in Ryujin's bedroom is punctuated only by the faint, hazy light streaming in from the hall, and her bedroom fan making its creaking little circles, as she waits in her post-nut-high for her breathing to normalize. Her mind is buzzing, and out of all this, she has a hell of a bill and a couple conclusions:

She's a coward and a pervert, but definitely, definitely bisexual.

Or, like. She's in some weird gray area between not liking whenever anyone buys her drinks, but also the girls at least let her dance a little close. That's a strange thing, isn't it? For how often her mouth does stupid shit - you think at least someone would figure it out for her.

But you, oh fuck. You-

She's fucking shaken up, for sure.

-

(It's a home office set-up, actually.

Your desk isn't organized; you're sure the photos on the wall are askew and the paint looks slightly worse for wear if you were to turn the lights on - which you never really do. There's an aging lamp tucked into the back corner, a bottle of scotch next to your handset that's closer to halfway empty than halfway full, and you can't stop imagining it.

Promise, This never happens.

You've got the name stuck to the roof of your mouth even though you know it's fake. Stuck with something so painfully abstract. Imagining this girl that is probably as brash and bawdy as her voice, or more exciting than either - maybe her hair is long enough to brush along her breasts. Or maybe it hangs just over her shoulders. God knows just how that would frame her features.

You can see it, really. You pump a handful of coconut oil into your palm and the details solidify so easily in your head: her pretty mouth, nose, the dimples in her cheeks - eyes glazed and sultry and gazing at you.

Smelling sweet, all the places you need, skin hot, clit swollen-

Just- fuck. Fuck.

Ryujin, huh, imagine that.

Ryujin.

And you jerk off right into the soft embrace of a tissue.)

-

A little more than a week later:

Ryujin's all wrapped up on the couch, with an arm cushioning her head and watching TV when there's a sudden commotion from the front door. Yuna - her friend, her very nice, very male friend who never shows up after midnight unless there's a promise of sex - comes bumbling into the room.

He has no regard for boundaries.

So,

Yuna starts to say, smug, from where the hallway becomes the living room, "Ryujin - look at us. Stuck on a Friday night. You gotta boyfriend or something?"

She's completely unfazed by this interaction. She's pretty sure he has his own key, so like, he should be used to it by now too.

"Kind of." She shuts off the TV to turn her attention towards the topic at hand. "Why?"

Yuna runs a hand through all her long, silky hair and gestures her cock-du-jour on over to the door of her room. "Waiting for a call, maybe." She waggles her eyebrows. "Are you any good, I mean, you never seem to..."

Annoying brat. 

Ryujin smacks the back of her neck and interrupts, "you gonna fuck him? Go ahead and fuck him, Yuna." She checks the lock. The kitchen. Gets up and tries to ignore the heat flaring behind her ears.

"We could pretend," Yuna muses, tugging the waistband of Ryujin's shorts around her fingers before she's out of arm's reach. The elastic flips back into her waist with a dull snap.

"Dumb idea. That's a dumb, dumb idea," she reasons, because she knows Yuna has no self control. None, and it's showing; the second her shoulders sag forward and her eyes dart, craving, Ryujin steps back in. "Don't be stupid."

Yuna's lips are tilted, playful. Ryujin wants to smack that look right off her face. Like she fucking deserves any kind of victory just because she found out she can fuck anyone she wants while lacking the self-awareness to somehow be contented with anyone. She's not going to call her a slut - out of a matter of principle - but god, does she fucking want to.

"Gotta get ready, is what you should do," Ryujin mumbles under her breath.

"Fine." Yuna shrugs and pecks an annoying kiss to Ryujin's temple on her way to the shower, waving a hand over her head with a casual, "If you want something, you've only got a half-hour."

Ryujin pushes her hair out of her face and does what she does best: overanalyze and overthink the situation.

Whatever. Yuna won't give it up regardless, not in any way she'd actually be able to enjoy. Her cheeks go a little redder while she pretends to not be considering it.

God, a threesome in total functional harmony however: her working her mouth on Yeji (Ryujin doesn't know why she's thinking about Yeji, but she is), Yeji working her mouth on her boyfriend, her boyfriend working his mouth on her -

That'd be something, she thinks. Like one of those Escher diagrams, but one where everyone cums at the end.

The thought makes Ryujin wet enough to squeeze her thighs together and stand up a little straighter.

Then she hears the showerhead turn on, and she wonders just why, exactly, Yuna is such a spoiled asshole.

-

Turns out,

The universe just has this habit of providing Ryujin with what she wants right alongside everything she doesn't.

She’s stretched out in her sweats, sat up at the top of her bed again and touching herself beneath the sheet in a pointless attempt to contain the mess. Fucking horny - it's honestly unbelievable - and her left hand's making lecherous, slick noises until it's absolutely gross. Until Ryujin's gasping and panting and sweating from the nape of her neck and the back of her knees.

All because Yuna's the loudest little-fucking-whore of a roommate anyone has ever heard.

She's moaning like she's getting fucking plowed into the next life. And apparently, the cock she's got in her cunt is fucking huge if those little murmuring whimpers are anything to go on. She keeps begging the guy, coy, for a kiss while she's probably folded up like a lawn chair in there, getting railed, and the fact that the boy keeps obliging is as admirable as it is kind of insulting.

"Goddamn," she thinks out loud, because the walls are paper-fucking-thin. The apartments in the area are built in an earthquake-safe way, which in reality, means they can either withstand a magnitude 6.0 and come out without any severe structural damages - or that it's so cheaply constructed the building will go down like a matchbox house before it stands a chance against a tremor of any significance.

They're easier to replace that way she’s told. And Ryujin's apartment is definitely of the latter; she can hear everything.

The skin on skin, their bodies sliding together in the slippery sheets. Her mouth smacking wet around his tongue as he bucks forward and asks her to do a hundred filthy things, asking her where it feels best - that sort of thing, which gets her wound and agitated and frustrated, and fucking horny as fuck. Ryujin's bent-inward and panting when he really gets to work - the creaks and groans, their mingled pants and the constant thudding and swaying of the headboard smacking into the wall.

She doesn't even need to put her ear to the partition like she's sixteen years old all over again, hoping to catch her old brother going at it while her mom was out. Trying to figure out this whole sex thing - what all the fuss was about.

Just the way Ryujin sighs is nothing short of despondent. Slightly pitiful.

And every tight circle she's running over clit feels so fucking good, until she realizes the room goes real quiet for a bit. The stillness - no slapping, no movement, just wet, panted-breaths and muffled speech. She nearly asks aloud what's wrong - but she hears it: Yuna's hushed but totally undeniable,

"Been so long- don't, don't- hold up," she croons in these high, sing-song little huffs. "That - uhn, ah - that's my - that's my good spot, there, keep - yes, harder!"

Ryujin slams her eyes closed, dropping down onto the mattress and wishing she'd slipped her hands into her sweats sooner. Fuck. And as Yuna's back starts banging against the wall - so rhythmic and fucking thorough - Ryujin can feel the heat curling behind the backs of her knees, radiating along her calf and reaching into the smalls of her feet. Fuck. Fuck, she doesn't even get to watch.

Right there. So good, please, so fucking good, is what Ryujin can’t not hear coming right through the drywall.

She’s three knuckles deep in her pussy, all stretched out, and she's practically drooling - "spread me, baby. Hold the, fuck, spread my lips open. See me- unh. Ah - see me? Please, do it-" - the boy groaning about it as he fucks her, and then, Yuna, needling him with a quiet, breathy, "harder, can't you?"

The answer seems to make Yuna squirm and scream.

And Ryujin's nearly rolling - rocking, fucking humping her own fingers because it's starting to ache a little, a cramping in her wrist and arm and jaw that she's trying really hard to ignore, rubbing and fingering and fucking herself closer, the heels of her feet sinking hard against the sheets, throbbing and aching around the flicks of her knuckles, harder, faster - faster -

"Fucking hell-" she seethes and stops moving all at once - because god, Yuna is un-fucking-believable.

The absolute bitch, she's doing it again: squealing and cursing and calling his name into her orgasm and just basking, it sounds like, right in it. Because she always does this, every single fucking time, she acts like it's the best feeling in the fucking world and she fucking loves everything, and that shit just - Ryujin grits her teeth and grimaces and pulls her slick fingers from her body - that just ruins it.

All that build-up and for what?

Fuck, Yuna really has the nerve to go there too. She's talking about sucking her own damn cunt or some bullshit-

Yeah, it's not fucking fair, Ryujin concedes.

Or maybe she's being punished. She could live with that, but god. The unfairness of it all. She tries, for a half a minute, to let her throbbing stop being a goddamn nuisance. But the noises coming from the other room are making her crankier, more angry, more irate - and definitely hornier than she ever really intended, even though she knows Yuna is thoroughly distracted in there.

Ryujin sits up a little straighter. Squares her shoulders, steadies herself and fishes around in her pockets with her uncoordinated, cum-coated hands until she finds her wallet, a credit card, her cell -

And there's an aching, a sore pulse of neglect between her legs; that's all too much. A quick peek down confirms that, yep, she's practically dripped right out of her shorts and even gotten a dark spot in the front of them. How great is that.

Yuna is over there, all, "thank you - ah - can you please do me a favor and fuck my mouth with your big, big, huge, fucking cock-" and this guy, he sounds so patient, telling her how he wants to do exactly that, but he wants to fill her tiny pussy up first, fuck her here, fuck her there, fuck a baby right into her. Wants to get his cum all over her face, smear her mouth and her throat and her cheeks - 

Ryujin inhales through her nose and holds, eyes falling closed in something between misery and anguish.

He's telling her, yeah, of course he'll fill up her throat - give her so much it's leaking out of her fucking nose - and Yuna sounds like she's moaning and garbling an objection to that last part - but it doesn't actually fucking matter.

"Geez," is Ryujin's quiet, little gasped-out response. He just fucking pounds her right back into place; her next orgasm. Fuck-

And there it is: the slew of moans that start back up and just keep on keeping on.

Shin Ryujin is going to lose her fucking mind.

-

Ryujin only lasts a handful more days before she calls again.

It’s another Wednesday night, if only to increase the odds that you’re working. Yeah, she could go with another guy, but another guy might not do everything you did, talking quietly and calmly - so composed while Ryujin was losing some part of her sanity to the thumb she pressed on her clit. 

No, it has to be you.

That's what Ryujin makes herself say when the operator apologizes and explains you're busy.

"Will he be working much longer? Please, I, um-"

"If you give me your number," the operator tells her, "I can add him as a preferred associate. You'll get him next time instead of going to the line."

Ryujin pauses, finger held to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication isn't there, that maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some people do it already.

Oh god, this is kind of fucked up.

Maybe a little. Maybe.

Ryujin pauses, finger to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication, isn't there, or maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone you like-like for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some of things other people are undoubtedly doing with this service, Ryujin decides, and rattles off the digits so fast the operator asks for clarification.

"If your schedule doesn't open," the line says, "call back and leave a message with when."

Ryujin shrugs and says, "yeah, okay."

-

You make Ryujin sit through forty-five-fucking minutes of on-hold music - this barely audible synthetic noise that signals a connection is still there, truly a genre for no one - all before she just cuts the fucking line and lays down on the couch.

Okay.

Okay, fine.

Whatever.

-

(You are… going through the motions.

Some girl on the other line is barely holding it together; you can hear her thighs making slick noises. God. She sounds desperate, she's holding the phone all tight and saying your name. She's fucking babbling; it's not attractive, not while you're tilted back as far as your office chair will go and staring up in the ceiling.

You're bored, mostly.

"Please, please, I'm-"

"Going to cum, I know, princess." She asked you to call her that. "Mouth all open? Can't help it? Just need to lick it nice and fast?"

The answer comes all choppy: "I can't, ah, a-ah-nymore, no, I, can't, need-"

"Do you have any idea? How hard I'm fucking stroking my cock right now? Sitting right in my lap. Jerking it right for you," you say, and then she makes an embarrassingly wet noise, gasping through a choked whine, "so I'm ready to give you what you really fucking need."

"Yes," she chokes. "There - um, please, I just-"

"The biggest fucking load," you tell her. She has no idea, really, that you've got one hand on the receiver, the other just pinching the bridge of your nose - neither of which are you jerking the cum out of your cock and balls like a fucking hydrant as you’d described. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and you keep your face turned to the side as she starts screaming. As it starts running into one noise that lasts forever - so unbearable that, this time, you consider going out to the bathroom to grab a glass of water and a handful of painkillers. "Need it deep. Let me pour it in, yeah?"

"Yes," she gasps again, heard on this distant frequency because, yes, yes, you've plugged your ear with a finger.

"That'll satisfy you. C'mon, now, princess - give it right up," you tell her, but your eyes are a little dull when her moan turns out all-gagging and twitchy and spasming through it, until finally:

"Ugh."

You wait a moment for the gasping and hitching to finish.

"Good girl," is your distant reply, followed by a polite, perfunctory, "call back anytime.")

-

Ryujin feels like she's in grade eleven again as she stares at her phone. Boys. Drama. Girls. The drama.

The overanalyzing, the wondering, the hesitating. Fuck. She wishes she knew a way to change this, because she doesn't feel particularly mature and is somehow reduced to this girl, this idiot sitting here all embarrassed and staring and moping about a thousand different calamities at once.

She's looking right at the lock screen: the wallpaper of her and Yeji and Chaeryeong out getting coffee on a random Sunday, all bundled up. Winter. Like three, four years ago, maybe.

Ryujin looks like shit, it's funny.

But Yeji -

How she can make the winter pallor look good is beyond Ryujin's understanding. It's unfair. All the things are. Her brain is back and forth and spinning, spinning like the hands on the old clock hung up on the wall in the kitchen. So stuck on what's not quite normal. Stuck on what doesn't fucking matter - who even fucking cares who the fuck she's attracted to?

She feels it between her legs.

Has been for like a month, or longer, without an outlet. Without anything to give her the hint that maybe she can get back to it - the right it.

She doesn't need to call, she tells herself. She's not some weirdo who's sitting on this for days just in the hopes that her boyfriend is having a bad week with work or whatever. It's only Wednesday, technically. Still way early. Just another few days, she reasons, another few hours - what does it matter?

Wednesday. She can feel the word settle inside of her.

Though only once her bottom lip is chewed to hell, does she pick up her phone and decide she will.

-

(You're in your bedroom this time around, finishing up your own weekday workout - on the bike, fifteen-second sprints - when your phone goes off. A simple dinging. Very unassuming.

The operator comes in with a cool, level, "line two, callback."

Then there's nothing but silence for a few beats.

You towel some of the sweat off your face. It's warm - your skin, flushed. Bouncing your phone in your palm. The same feeling that's been tugging at your throat for the past two weeks starts to flare and swell.

Not quite a hope, not quite expectation: just something close.

"Are they still there?"

The operator confirms. "Shall I put them through?")

-

Ryujin fumbles in her own rush of bravado, hands pressing against the fronts of her thighs in an unflattering, nervous little gesture as the connection clicks and picks up.

"This is him," comes your voice, a little husky and raspy from all the day-to-day talk, but even and easygoing and maybe - just maybe - something she can hang on to. Ryujin gives an acknowledging "Mmmn," like the phone call isn't causing her major inner-turmoil.

"Right, ah." You sound kind of, dare she say, nervous yourself. You clear your throat into the line and ask, "what brings you here, stranger?"

Ryujin pauses at this; the red in her ears reaches her fucking jaw. Stranger. Jesus christ, okay, okay-

She laughs. Stops immediately at how self-conscious she sounds. Clears her throat and tucks some of her hair back - settles herself into it like her life hangs in the balance. "I'm here to get my rocks off."

"It's not usually my place to say," you begin in earnest, "but if you're anything like me, and this is gonna sound completely off-the-cusp, but those two weeks really seem to build up, don't they?"

God.

She pulls her sock off her ankle. There's eczema on her heel, and it's the kind of thing she can imagine Yeji telling her to not scratch - that she's going to fuck up her skin. It's funny the stupid fucking things she can remember and all the things she forgets. Like just now, with your voice in her ear, a little unsure in a way that says you've got other, much more important things you should be doing. But you're here with her.

With Ryujin.

God. She might hate herself a little.

"Um," is how she finds her bearings. "Actually."

"It's a joke. Not that- I mean." She hears some rustling - assumes it's coming through the ear piece. There's an abrupt slamming on her side of the line and it seems like the worst kind of deja-fucking-vu. Her neighbors. She forgets it's even this late into the evening. That other people don't have to work so hard in their free-time.

"Maybe this isn't a good night," she says, not so much as thinking the words.

"What?" you ask. Then it dawns on you. "No, no. If you're there, I'm here." You clear your throat. "Besides, there's nobody I'd rather hear from than a woman so desperate she's signed onto my frequent flier's club."

She stops chewing the insides of her cheeks long enough to give you a tired, irritated sound. "Whatever."

And you nearly choke trying not to laugh.

"I don't, um-"

"What, do I have a nice voice?" You laugh quietly.

Under normal circumstances, that wry edge, the bit of try-hard-humor would have her rolling her fucking eyes clean out of their sockets. So when instead she opens her mouth and a fatal-fucked-flirty-feminine, stop, comes out, the vowel pulled long like a plea or a request - well, Ryujin's forehead drops against her bedspread in immediate regret.

You seem startled by it too, going quiet for a second.

"I-I'm-"

"Cute," you decide.

Her ears are red-hot and her cheeks have to be pinking and god, she hates this. That she's hearing this so soon, and it's making her brain hazy and soft and stuttering through, um's and yeah, well, um's. A part of her can't believe she's paying for this, and then, at the same time, she can't believe she's not actually putting cash down for more right this second.

Because it feels -

Like maybe -

Her shoulders rise. She wants this to be quick; she hates this feeling of embarrassment creeping its way in and grabbing onto her with both hands, like this weird, pseudo-affection. She's a grown fucking woman and here she is, letting all her guard down for someone she doesn't even fucking know.

You can feel the tension, hear it. Your lips purse. You try for something easy.

"Go on and give me the details, Ryujin."

Before you'd even picked up, she'd already half-undone her shirt, the flaps of the collar hanging loose with her hands gently petting her ribcage - so easily giving and pliant that there's a good portion of her, in spite of the doubt, in spite of what seems completely illogical about all this, that has her realizing maybe she wants this more than she can possibly understand.

God, she feels like a fucking fool.

"It's pretty boring."

"Not to me. I've spent the last few weeks talking to a bunch of assholes who don't appreciate what they got in the first place," you reply. She imagines you're a little playful about it. Wonders, momentarily, how good that smirk looks - if your eyebrows are lifting like you've been teasing her since day one. Fuck. 

“Your operator is a total asshole too, by the way."

"Don't say that," is Ryujin's shy reply, practically moaned out. "You sound like someone I'd absolutely fucking hate, jesus, stop that."

"Just because you don't get on with someone, doesn't mean they can't get you off."

"Smooth, or something."

"I'm taking a break, relaxing a little, enjoying an overrated TV show or whatever this is - not really minding my business," you say, but your smile is so audible it's fucking offensive. And she's - she's maybe, definitely into that. Like the fucking embarrassment in this is turning her on. Ryujin puts the tip of her finger in the waist of her shorts, experimentally, gently, this small brush and press to her sensitive lower stomach. And it's true. All she hears is her own breathing in the receiver, a bit labored over the slightest, least indecent touch. It's amazing, how much her body can want even when her head can't seem to catch up.

"What do you like?" she asks. “You’re a person, working bits and all, something’s gotta get you all worked up and flustered, no?”

"Will you believe me if I tell you this is my absolute favorite?"

"Do you always dodge the question?"

"It's just like a courtesy," you clarify, "it's not personal."

"Now I sound like a desperate pervert."

"On the contrary," is your warm, buttery reply, and it is fucking aggravating just how well this works on her. "I think there are much better things people can say about you."

God, that - the thought, the possibility of something about her that has nothing to do with how 'thick' or 'thin' her thighs are, or the silhouette of her ass in safety shorts, or how her voice makes guys want to ask if they can take her home and fuck the answers from her, or any of that; it's kind of liberating, just a tiny bit. That it can be a good thing for some reason. God.

Ryujin rubs herself. "Yeah, well."

She wants it all the same and says nothing, shifting a little until her hips tilt slightly upwards, letting her pull at the drawstring of her shorts, loosening the grip. She's already kind of feeling woozy in all the best ways, soft and feminine in how she slides her hand underneath her shorts. Over panties first, with no clear idea if you can tell and honestly, too distracted to wonder about that, if she should care or not, too caught up with her fingertips over the raised seam in her underwear - where the fabric's wet from her.

A shush comes into the line when Ryujin swallows.

The ache between her legs grows louder.

"You still there, Ryujin?"

"Of course," and then, she finds a little more reassured finality: "fuck, yeah, fuck. Please, I..."

"Ryujin," you say with all the calm and control in the world, "talk to me."

-

(So - truthfully, honestly, factually - you are a total wreck.

You're sitting there in a heap of bedsheets and a cold sweat when Ryujin finally mutters into the silence, "thanks, for that, I, uh- that felt really good, exactly what I needed," and hangs up before you can ask about her day or comment on the weather or suggest calling back tomorrow.

She is just perfect, the way she lets a small "I..." slip when she's close. Perfect, how she groans her little broken, satisfied sigh of a yes, her last, fleeting exhale just a sweet, high, barely there please, her body tensing with every little shudder and moan and pant. How the pace goes fast and then slow - like she's gotta think it out a second, her own fingers bringing her closer and closer until there's nothing but a flurry of movement and ragged breaths - an enthusiastic little mmph noise - followed by Ryujin's wet and slick little laugh that sounds like relief.

Like you did something to help, like she needed you and wanted you.

There's cum sticking all up your torso and along your wrist, the inside of your thigh - everywhere you could manage, frankly - and, shit, it's not fair, you realize:

She can find you, whenever she needs you.

And you -

You're just sitting here. Nowhere near sure she'll even call again.)

-

There's a sizable difference between being lonely and being alone, Ryujin thinks, running the cloth under the stream of the shower and then pressing it damp against her throat, wiping at the backs of her knees.

Lonely means that something's missing - it's something she feels when she catches a glance at the handsome arm reached around Chaeryeong's waist, the way she dances so close to someone she just met, or whenever she tells her that she's thinking about, maybe, probably, definitely, absolutely going home with him if her friends don't stop her from leaving. God, her smile is always so cute when he's near. When someone's calling her over for drinks - hips sashaying like she doesn't know the whole bar is staring at the creases where her thighs flare into her ass - because he gave her a look from across the room, and she's swaying from drink to drink.

Like, of course, they're fucking; it's a known, unsaid thing.

She knows it, he knows it. Chaeryeong fucking owns it.

Alone however, is just what it says on the tin.

That's something else Ryujin has yet to learn - that everyone loves differently, cares for different things. Yuna is still single after all, and she can never shake the feeling that it's simply to spite her for some perceived slight or another; Yuna can't live without company, no matter how brief or short or meaningless, so perhaps it's better she never catches on or finds anyone worth keeping around.

And Yeji?

Ryujin sighs, rakes the comb through her wet hair.

The showerhead is running hot between Ryujin's fingers, and the water coming off of her skin turns to steam instantly, filling the bathroom with a permanent cloud, stuck in flux - rising towards the ceiling. She passes her fingers under it, watches the flow, a quiet hm escaping the back of her throat - and she considers the way it feels beating against her throat and chest.

Down the concave curve of her stomach. How it burns red right over her thighs. The pressure slips and sinks low, lower - and when she puts a palm out for a little stability, her left leg can't help but buckle just so, lifting itself out and off to the side. So she stands, toes pointing against the shower floor, face first into her arm against the cool tile.

Ryujin sees where the rivulets of water have gathered above her clavicle - feels them trail down over the tightness in her breasts and between. A couple images pass through her mind at once - thoughts of fingers trailing a line back up the center of her body and a gentle tap against her chin, turning her face to some perfect all-consuming kiss - a hand squeezing at her calf, rubbing her muscles gently - Yeji smiling into the crook of her neck, the grasp on her hip, wrist flexing. Her back bowed and fingers, broad and experienced -

"Don't need you," Ryujin quietly says to nobody, which -

You're doing so well, Ryujin hears back in her imagination, you're so beautiful, you can keep this up, I know you can. I bet it feels good, doesn't it? Just let go and I'll...

Ryujin whimpers out. She can feel that line deep inside her going taut, buckling in her core, the reverberations down to her wrists and fingertips and toes. If she didn't have the wall in front of her, she knows she'd be on her knees - kneeling to the hot water pulsing around the knots of nerves right behind her clit. The pressure hitting her like the crack of a whip.

"Fuck me," she says to no one, gasping in that way you only can when no one is listening.

Yeji's smile is what's gotten her this close so many times, the smell of the ends of her hair tickling Ryujin's nose. Hell, she can't stop thinking about the way her nose crinkles or her dimples flare just when she finds Ryujin's name in her mouth.

It's not fair.

She's so close to cumming and letting whatever happens happen. The slick of her release pouring right out into the drain of the shower, washed away with the excess. So when her whole hand shifts and catches in just the right, delicious, frustrating way, Ryujin inhales so deep through the end of the sentence that, as a result, her knees wobble.

She feels like fucking crying.

It's that sweet little lilt in Yeji's voice, saying things like: "It's alright. I promise you can keep this up a little longer." And "Oh, god, baby." And, at worst, the way her voice shakes with a "come here, honey. Let me-"

Ryujin has to catch herself when her footing slips a little from under her. Then, your voice, coming in distant at first, grows louder, clearer. Into something catastrophic, right against her throat, like it knows the very inside-and-out of her, "go on. Fuck, please, cum all over me, baby - show me a face no one else gets to see."

And for the first time,

Ryujin gets herself off. Alone.

She moans and sighs out. Gasps, "there you go-" and whispers an, "ah, jesus." She manages the most silent, the least decipherable, fuck, as it leaves her mouth like a prayer. Her left knee twitches, body curling into itself, and her hand moves - fingers closing and her eyes clenched shut, a wave, cresting - she just-

Collapses.

Wanting: Yeji, sure - and she came - but the only thing she can really wrap her head around is the truth that she's so, utterly fucked.

-

"Are you sure there's no one you can bring?" Yeji asks in the middle of slapping the ever-loving shit out of a coffee maker that has, for as far as anyone can remember, never worked.

"Uh," is Ryujin's inconvenienced reaction, the tips of her fingers idly sorting through her credit card statements, which a more-sober, less-horny version of herself is a little out of sorts over. "I'm not sure there's anyone I'd want to bring."

"Uh huh," Yeji replies.

She pauses and rests the bottom edge of the coffee maker on the edge of the kitchen counter, stopping herself mid-smack - leaning away to try and give the stupid thing a once-over.

"Who the hell says it's got to be someone you wanna make babies with? Maybe it's just someone you'd think would look good beside you, smiling at the cameras with. Or."

"Or."

Yeji's lips tilt. "Or someone you wouldn't mind screwing in the bathroom."

Ryujin spins the pen in her fingers and gives Yeji a look that says back off and can you chill out already, in the sort of way it takes years to ferment - the silent understandings, the good-natured naggings, the good-fucking-luck-with-that-buddy's. Yeji knows she's getting on Ryujin's nerves. Knows that has never stopped her before.

"In my defense," Yeji clarifies, "I can count at least a hundred people that would crawl over broken glass to sleep with you and, uh-" She knocks the coffee maker off of its stand and holds it gingerly to her chest like some child, motherly. "-I don't wanna take a bullet for your unintentional chastity, Shin Ryujin."

"First of all, don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor here," she replies. "Second-"

"Can't hurt just asking, right? I could set you up, you know, someone you've never even met - no pre-burnt bridges to maneuver."

There’s a world, and Ryujin imagines it for all of a second, where she stands up and grabs hold of Yeji by her cute little ponytail - if nothing else, just to stop the way it bounces every time she steps - and maybe, she also kisses her on the mouth so hard she stumbles. Or perhaps she could pull that ribbon free of its holdings and unravel it down against Yeji's jaw. Pull a whimper, a tiny little ah that says this was inevitable. Maybe they crash onto her bed. Maybe she gets her fingers sticky with how soaked through the cotton of Yeji's shorts have gotten in those short, heated moments - what a world that would be.

"One of what's-his-name's friends? I’m assuming."

Yeji looks annoyed and proud and beautiful; all at once.

"Yes, and what's-his-name's pillow talk is exceedingly whiny about how my best friend is so incredibly standoffish and abrasive and-"

"Okay. I'll go." Anything to stop the image of Yeji with the comforter pulled up to her tits and hair splayed all over the place; red and flushed. Her lips curling with the curve of the sheets and god -

"Just for an hour?" Ryujin asks.

Yeji finally places the coffee maker back onto its stand.

"I mean, nothing much happens an hour into a birthday party," Yeji reassures. "It'll be fun."

"Uh-huh."

"Trust me."

Ryujin wonders just how far Yeji could go - if she knows that she can snap her fingers together, and Ryujin will be there: ready to do anything.

-

Ryujin is trying to go to sleep, is how she'll explain it if anyone asks. Though she prays to god no one ever will.

She tries books. And she tries scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. And there's this one guy she kinda-sorta-dated's updates: photos of a vacation to Boracay, which seems nice; his chest is a little more defined, more chiseled than when she was seventeen and kind of fumbling her way around a college boy and his stupid fucking preoccupation with who should be paying for drinks at whatever run down establishment was his pick of the night. Ryujin makes a face at the screen, pursing her lips; there's a girl in the photo - she looks too young for how her ass is falling out the one-piece. To the extent that she makes sure to send an unsolicited meme she's tagged herself in - like "here is my past and here are his balls", and gets a block and a report as a thank you.

It makes her feel good. That's what's most important.

And then, with little other distraction and a decent lack of luck, she picks up the phone.

It rings for a while before the operator comes in and says, "You're at number nine."

"What?"

"The queue. This call has you at number nine."

Ryujin slowly leans up from the pillows and squints into her bedroom.

"Huh."

"Would you still like to be connected, miss?

Ryujin thinks it over for a moment. Of course you're popular, a part of her mind comments, because you've got a voice like gravel-slung honey-gold. She's imagining eight other girls just like her, laying in their bed, panties on their ankles and thumbs covered with spit. All desperate for you. All curled up - one right after the other - with no fucking idea.

"Miss," the operator comes back with.

The line goes quiet - a few beats, but not too uncomfortable a silence. Then she gets a soft little exhale out, saying, "can I leave a callback number?"

"If you like." The operator considers the idea. "I can’t promise whether he’ll call you.”

“No, yeah.” Ryujin curls an arm under her chest and plays a finger against the swell of her breast through her night shirt. Gets lost in her own consideration. “Don't think he would anyway."

-

A new day is defined by new possibilities, or something or another you read once stitched into a frame; Something you muse over the rim of your coffee, nose-deep in the laptop at the kitchen counter top.

Last night ended a bit unexpectedly - this not considering the couple's awkward fight which took up two-thirds of the evening. Or the girlfriend-slash-fiancée of that guy, which somehow led you to wonder just how old was too old. But as you were logging your final client session of the night a ping came through the employee portal and let you know that someone had left their number with the operator in the hopes you'd call.

You swig back the rest of your coffee, roll your shoulders and shrug. Oh, there are at least a million reasons not to call a number that randomly, offhandedly arrives in the middle of the night and gets patched through a phonesex hot line under the cover of darkness.

The same number could be out there, defacing the wall of a truck stop bathroom, or inked into the skin of a squat prison convict who's got a brow like the horizon. Maybe, it belongs to that married business man that took your personal phone number as his private line and spent all the time bragging how he was going to quit his wife and make a run for it with you - just you - even though you'd rather stab him with a fork than be involved with that kind of psychopathy and are honestly just looking for that extra bump in commissions every time his wife calls to ask the exact same thing.

Your clients call. You talk.

You take the cash.

The point is: there's more fucking deviants out there than there are stars in the sky. You would know; you talk to a new handful every goddamn day.

Yet it doesn't really matter. You're gonna do it. Because you're feeling restless. Because - and it sounds insane - there's at least some probability, no matter how remote, that you will pick up that receiver and punch in a number and the line will connect with the girl who's been on your mind almost constantly for the better half of two months. That you might listen to the dial tone turn into her answering with a genuinely indifferent, "this is Ryujin," or whatever her name actually is -

You're living in a pipe dream. You're probably reaching, actually. And all you know about this woman, is, what? What does it really, factually, truly amount to, the amount you feel you've come to know about her.

You know more about how she prefers to methodically, meticulously begin, then draw out, and finally end a blowjob to someone that ain't you than you do about any detail in her life story, frankly. You're reaching, and you know it.

You pick up the phone and dial.

-

(It goes straight to voicemail, and get this: that’s her real fucking name.)

-

Yuna has the audacity to ask, as she slides into the booth, "who do you keep texting?"

Ryujin's eyebrow arches.

The younger girl nods towards where Ryujin's thumbs are practically flying over the keyboard.

"No one." Ryujin puts the phone on her lap and crosses her arms over her chest. Then the words seem to echo through the inside of her skull, so she shakes her head a little, in emphasis. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

She's right though - and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why it's hard to answer.

Chaeryeong washes the shot of whisky down with a swallow of lemon-lime. Her eyes slide open to Ryujin as she wipes at her bottom lip. Then she spikes a finger into Ryujin's ribs.

"Spill."

It's a dangerous order, and she doesn't realize it at first. Chaeryeong's bad ideas have an annoying habit of flinging themselves on Ryujin, like a bomb dropped at low altitude - sudden, quick, and more than enough to shake everything up. Chaeryeong will make Ryujin go out dancing - and then she'll lose her clutch purse. Chaeryeong will remember she started the evening with a scarf - so they need to walk out a whole block or two to find it.

More importantly: Chaeryeong is not a great drunk.

So, of course she spills. She relays her findings, carefully and as deliberately as she can muster.

"Does he have a nice voice?" Chaeryeong asks.

"It's kind of deep?”

Chaeryeong snorts. Apologizes immediately.

"Not... deep. Sultry. I guess. Smooth, easy to hear." Ryujin tells the two across the table.

Yuna whistles low. "Romantic as shit."

“Fuck, I don’t know. In, like a sexy sort of way." Ryujin raises both palms in a vague gesture. She clears her throat at the two pairs of eyes staring back at her as though the words coming out of her mouth belonged to a foreign language. "Uh. Sort of raspy, or something, sometimes, like he's... on the phone a lot, and you know," Ryujin flushes, suddenly caught and wondering where all the confidence went, "yeah."

Yuna's leaning forward, chin in her palm. "I'm having a hard time believing texting is a sort of standard operating procedure."

"Well try a little harder," Ryujin snaps, eyes finding Yuna's and making herself fucking clear.

Chaeryeong has this look about her, she's trying to keep it all in, but then there's her eyes, cinched at the corners and dead-fucking-giveaways. She puts an arm against the table and points at Ryujin with an up-reaching thumb. "This is the cutest shit, like ever, and you two are texting like actual lovers instead of two, apparently rando-stranger fuck buddies, or whatever."

Yuna - for whatever reason - feels at liberty to throw gasoline on the fire. "Does that mean you think he's going to get jealous if you bring some dude along to Lia's birthday?"

Ryujin sucks in a breath; the fact that he'd never - well.

"Ryujin's in love," Yuna adds for dramatic effect, for the sake of being the worst fucking person. She can be so fucking petty. It's a side of her no one ever sees, because she's just so sweet all the time. Like right now, she's doing that smile-smirk thing that gets Chaeryeong giggling against her hand and then coughing into it a second later.

"Jesus christ," Ryujin starts gathering her jacket and purse. "He's- not- this is- God, I'm done." She slips her shoulder under the strap. "Thanks for listening to me sound like a teenager."

"Isn't that just normal for you," Yuna quips back, pulling at her straw until there's only air rushing through the bend of it. "Where are you going?"

"I can't stay here," Ryujin says as if it's obvious, as well as her point, the argument she's trying to make. "Besides, Yeji is gonna want me to get my dress and shit all sorted out."

"Don't fall in love with one of the robot voices at the cross-walk on your way home, or anything!" Yuna laughs out, giving a flippant wave goodbye.

Ryujin lets her eyes roll because sometimes, she hates her friends.

-

It still throws you for a loop whenever Ryujin pings your phone with a text that says something like:

have you jerked yourself off to exhaustion or is there one more in you for someone like me?

Or,

my roommate is getting pounded through the springs of her mattress, wanna see if you can hear it?

Or,

are you free? I really fucking need to cum. bad.

Each text is something you tuck into yourself. Save and mark and spend all your time in those long-form responses imagining how her face looked when her brain typed out the words for you. You wonder if she's sighing through her fingers or hiding her lips behind a pillow while the heat coils in the pits of her hips.

As time goes by, Ryujin slips a little more. From one text about whatever book or series she was rereading last and another about the sadism of politicians and how people are more likely to agree with what they've heard someone else say than the facts of a given subject, to texts with a few scattered thoughts to strings of sexting that has you cumming into the palm of your hand and through your sheets and in the middle of a dream in which there's no clothes and a pretty fucking filthy proposition.

"How have you been lately," you decide, and consider, briefly, the very strong likelihood this call is gonna send her right through the goddamn roof.

When Ryujin eventually finds herself able to get out: "fine," there's a tell-tale pause, then an even longer pause, that implies she'd definitely rather say anything else. Then she kind of stutters a, "pretty good. Not too bad. All that stuff, I suppose."

And not to say any part of this has felt like routine. Both of you breathing into the end of a telephone and letting your eyes clench tight while you cum all over yourself - imagining everything she told you she wanted you to do to her, how it'd all go: "fucking with my arms grappled behind my back," she'd hum, "head pushed into the bedsheets, you're smothering me, ah- I'd let you cum wherever the fuck you like, but please-" or maybe a bit simpler: "so my thighs are straddling your face?" is about the gist.

A second goes by, another, a third.

"Hang on," you end up having to tell her sometimes, "I need a fucking towel-"

"You really are, huh, jerking off with me- I get you that hot, is what you're telling me? Or is just too much imagining how you'd fuck your way right into my guts through my pretty little pussy? Ah, jesus," the cadence of her voice climbs high before ending up back where it belongs, "Jesus, fuck."

"Can you imagine," is how it'd start, "how good it'd feel? My pussy, or- anywhere, everywhere. I think you'd ruin me for anyone else - you- with how, god-"

You can hear Ryujin shift on the sheets, licking at her bottom lip. Silently cumming. Cumming for you.

"Okay."

"Okay what," Ryujin quietly says back.

The gears turning.

You press your hand into the side of your neck. "Fuck me. Now, in a second. Tell me the last fucking thing in the world you want me to be or do and-"

"Wait."

There's this half-breath. This hmm that almost trips off Ryujin's tongue. Her eyes squinting open to a new thought. You think she's about to be sly. About to surprise you with an offhand fuck yes I'd ride that face like a bus seat; that she might come back with, yes I'll put you right in the middle of the best part of me, god you'll love it, and I promise not to make you cum if you're nice enough not to let your hands wander. But.

It's funny how things are -

"I have a confession," she says, matter-of-factly.

That's not entirely unusual. You've had more of those come through your line in a year than a confessional grate might get in a lifetime. So it doesn't sound like something special to you; Ryujin and you are in this candid don't-ask-don't-tell in regards to payments and the exchange of goods and services, but here you are, still using lines and bits. Practiced.

"In the name of the father, and of the son, and-"

"Funny." Ryujin gets the hint to backtrack. "Uhm, I mean. Remember the roommate I was telling you about?"

You hum a, "maybe."

"Uh," and now the hushed voice from her throat sounds distant, suddenly out of the scope of the receiver, "can I be totally, honestly- just really, extremely honest here, are you- or?"

You stop thinking about the ebbs and flows of her voice, how it dips down then arches up a little. Because now her voice has become something that is nervous, bordering on uneasy. So you stop, take stock and hold on. You weren't expecting a voice of worry or tension, or not at least while she wasn't thrown back into her bed and rubbing furiously at the ache between her legs.

"Yeah, of course," you offer her up.

"This is so embarrassing," she's saying, and some part of you feels ready to sink - you haven't the faintest idea for what, but there is something. Your chest clenches.

You can't help the worry and reply: "Okay, um. I mean- yeah. Me too, I can admit I feel a bit- and you can, y'know, be a little-"

"I'm not straight," she says finally, with a little quiver of her voice right at the tail end.

A blink comes, another - there's nothing coming out of you and you have no idea why that should be at all difficult, so the silence grows long. A new sort of awkward; the kind that you find out isn't just the rush of cum cooling in a pair of sweat-damp underwear. No - this is embarrassment, the kind that taints you.

"What?" You exhale a strained laugh, almost too-bright. "Are you- is this some sort of-?"

"Nope, no, this is crazy, sorry." She laughs. "Sorry."

"You certainly had me fooled." You sit up straighter in your bed, resting elbows on your knees. The moon is filtering through the windowsill and bathing the room in blue - casting light all the wrong ways. Making your own heart beat just a little too fast. "Fuck, um. Can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure." Her voice sounds uncharacteristically soft.

"What are you into?" and you as soon as you ask, you're laughing - because you've heard Ryujin wax lyrical for weeks, pontificate about every manner and way she'd take a cock between her hands, lips, fingers. Every. Single. Place, she wants one in - and now you can't believe this is what you went with: "I mean, like girls?"

"It's probably safe to assume I have some, y'know- degree of- yeah."

You chuckle a bit. The stiffness in your shoulders settling out.

"I've been in love, I realize - boy, with my roommate - for a while."

It's said with a sad laugh - as if this were a little shameful. Some deep, dark secret no one could ever be privy to; some stain on her soul that might wash out only after one final scrubbing with dish detergent and the cruelest bristles. A thing that keeps her up at night -

“Not the roommate, by the way, who we listen to get fucking railed like she’s on-demand pornography every weekend. Just to be clear."

"Good, jesus, that'd be fucking something."

Ryujin sounds more cheerful when her voice comes back through the line, "right?"

You wipe the perspiration of your top lip. You laugh nervously at this girl admitting to being in love over the phone - a stranger, truly, in all ways - to some fucked up audio-fetish sex line personality. And now - the fuck's wrong with you?

"Are you mad?" she asks, and some part of you is wrung. A small string of tension twisting so hard inside your gut, you're losing touch.

"No," you let her know. "No, not at all."

And that is honest. This is honest. There's this itching little scratch all over the insides of your skin that seems intent on driving a fucking wedge. Right at the center of your chest, tearing you apart. It feels as you've lost - not an object, not a material. Not an idea, nor a concept - but a feeling, that for once, was distinctly, overwhelmingly yours, without your wanting, or permission, or comprehension.

Ryujin sighs, this elongated relief coming in. She sinks back against the headboard.

She tells you everything. How Yeji smiles, and it's like the whole fucking room has gone up in lights, just from her and her alone. How there is nothing that she'd rather spend all her days around. She talks and you sit there, silent and listening. She talks about her. Her name and everything Yeji does and everything she wants.

The more you listen, you realize it's all real; she's not confused, or mistaken, or out to play a game or convince herself of something she believes is inherently untrue. She's not frustrated, or longing. She doesn't have this stomach-rolling pit of anxiety digging a cavern at her center because she just can't go through the rest of her life, living a life like everyone else. Not ever.

Because, all you really notice is-

She loves Yeji. The quiet kind. And she's sitting there, legs curled under her ass, crying. Not sad, or frightened, or wounded, just this beautiful sort of awed: it's the kind that only someone who is too inexperienced at crying should have. Where you just-

Look away.

"I'm not taking my phone into the bath with me," is the last thing she says to you, tears flooding out in her last couple words, before you can only offer her a meek: "anytime, Ryujin, I'm here."

-

(Four, five weeks go by in the blink of an eye. A month where you figure it's best to let her text or call or make it clear she wants your voice.

She never does.)

-

Lia is taking her sweet time to apply concealer over the cut Ryujin earned herself trying to get a stupid thing off a shelf - that's how low and unreasonable her tolerance for anything mildly inconvenient is.

"That fucking hurts," Ryujin tells her, wincing.

Lia ignores her.

She keeps on dabbing at the spot on her temple with the makeup brush until there isn't any trace of bruising, or where the jagged scar of a cut ends and skin begins, not anymore. At this point, she has gotten better, has developed a kind of surgeon's eye: zeroing in and unblinking, until every inch of damage is looking like Ryujin did when she was brought into this world -

(which is not perfect, but what it ought to look like, all things considered.)

Lia holds her hands in place on either side of Ryujin's head. "Stay."

It takes less than five minutes, and during those, Yuna just offers from around the bathroom door, "Ryujin, sweetheart, you’re looking hot tonight."

There's nothing more Ryujin wants to do than set the girl straight - the girl can't not keep a chirp to herself, for once in her fucking life. Because this flimsy slip of a dress around her middle feels too tight, the air choked out of her lungs if she shifts her weight onto the wrong foot. The hem rides way too fucking high up her thighs. So, if anyone didn't want a good long look at her ass tonight, they better come up with a plan B if she has to so much as approach a staircase.

"Have I ever not," she bites.

Yuna snorts.

And luckily for Ryujin, Lia feels the same way:

"Yuna, would it kill you to find something productive to do with your time?"

Yuna opens her mouth like she has something to say (she usually does) before retreating further away, the edge of her hair disappearing around the doorway. Then Ryujin's grinning - eyes taking in how Lia glowers a bit back, silently judging the stupidity in Ryujin's expression and also, admiring how good the girl looks. "Not bad, though, really."

Lia tells her with an underhanded wave of the brush and a wink: "historically, you do always get laid on my birthday, remember?"

Ryujin jerks a little, and the scar above her eye throbs into Lia's thumb. "Thanks?"

-

The party is miserable, but it's not Lia's fault. It's not really Yeji's fault either. They tried, that's really all she can say for them - her and her permanent-plus-one whose face Ryujin wants to both claw at and kiss until it’s swollen-

What she really can't wrap her mind around, though, is the guy sitting right fucking beside her. The idiot.

"Really, I'm telling you," her date - who is about 3.5 out of five stars at best and not so much handsome or hot as he is 'okay in a pinch' - grins up at her with the smarmiest of smiles, "if you'd just have taken me up on dinner, I would've spent all our time talking about you. We’d figure out how to enjoy ourselves."

"Likely story."

This fuckwad has the absolute goddamn gall to look wounded when his arm starts circling its way around the space where her dress is suffocating her at the waist, and Ryujin starts to shimmy her way out of hot water - again. God, she thinks, god save me-

"I think," she manages with a stilted grin, "I'm going to make myself useful- drinks, no?"

When he leans forward to grab her hand, it's only so she doesn't leave.

"You're not going to ask for my order?" he presses. The only reason Ryujin hasn't knocked out a couple of his front teeth is because Lia would be the one hearing Yeji whine about cleaning up the fucking mess.

"Just scotch. Neat."

Ryujin's a natural when it comes to smiling fake; it's part of her goddamned job. "Of course," she says, like she's not absolutely loathing him.

"Try the oakier, single-barrel variety, alright," he explains, because what's hotter than a man who's an expert in alcohol and being an insufferable tool? Nothing of course. She hopes he knocks back a few too many and his liver explodes - the painless way out. If god would ever fucking allow it.

She barely manages a half-strangled laugh over the blare of the music before he finally releases her wrist. 

The absolute fucking prick.

-

Here's something Ryujin never thought she'd come to appreciate:

Being alone.

It's just her and the breeze through the open doors of the rooftop garden, which is something every bit as refreshing as it is teeth-chatteringly cold. The wind picks up in gusts and billows, until it starts nipping up the fabric around her knees, like it's any one of the drunk, stumbling guests milling about and looking for a noncommittal lay.

Her left foot slips a step outwards, the uncomfortably tall heel bouncing on the edge of her toe and tapping a tune against the brick. Ryujin slouches on the railing that encapsulates the entire terrace, arms pressed over it, hands folded one-over the other - letting the night sky caress her bare shoulders with its wind-brushed kisses. This, is okay. It's better.

Maybe not ideal, but better.

And all it really took was a few fucking moments where she isn't smiling with pursed, stressed lips; where the pressure in her jaw finally settles out enough for the knot in the back of her teeth to fall loose and for her mouth to actually feel, y'know - good.

Not forced, is what. Not fake, or not real, or whatever-

Ryujin almost fishes her phone from her clutch. Almost. Almost texts to tell you that: this fucking night, like all the others in the past month or two or year, has left her feeling particularly done for, and yeah, no, it isn't helping that she'd take whatever would be the alternative if it meant a face like yours came in handy to lean against, or your shoulder or thigh to use. Like some pillow - that's all.

And you are, like. An option. But not, she sighs out, exactly the right one.

An errant chill shudders through her and down her spine.

"Shin Ryujin."

She'd recognize the tilt of that voice anywhere; even if her ears were pounding and her head filled with static and noise, she'd be able to place Yeji at the end of the world. The truth is easy to see, if only Yeji knew where to look: the corners of Ryujin's eyes screw up tight for a second, an immeasurably long time, in order to not do what they wanted. What it would mean.

She does anyway. "I'd hug you," Ryujin throws behind her with an airy sigh, "but I know where you've been."

Yeji's jaw has set at this point; a twist is still in her lip and she lets out this dry, half-laugh, half-not sound - which is the thing that drives Ryujin a little crazy. Yeji turns her attention from the concrete ground, to Ryujin's profile, her body leaning forward, toes tipping in: "sometimes I wonder if my partner in crime can breathe without saying something incendiary."

"Nope." Ryujin offers no further response or follow-up. Instead, the quiet gush of air makes itself the center of attention and a victim of silence.

"Sorry about-"

"Don't be. Don't give it a second thought." Ryujin stretches, leaning a little over the railing. Her fingers arch before her. Her words sounding the slightest bit cold, "can't win 'em all, right?"

Yeji's eyebrows pull together. "That's not how this was supposed-"

"God, Yeji." Ryujin smiles. Yeji hates that she never knows what that means. "I'm trying, really, I am, but you know - I really, I have tried my best, so can we just lay it to rest?"

Yeji leans over the railing - the fucking moon reflecting in these lustrous pools where her eyes go darker than night - and doesn't say anything for the longest moment. Ryujin chews her tongue, and tries to look as interested in the void of stars and night clouds as possible.

"Fuck's going on with you, lately?"

Ryujin just laughs back.

"Really," and the last word dips in a groan. It's almost childishly tragic how petulantly she insists, "talk to me."

But Ryujin has nothing else to say - no witty, scathing remarks. No deadpan observations or funny asides, not even a morose comment to throw back. There are times and moments and fucking periods of her day where she'd happily chew glass if it meant that Yeji would sit there a second longer, be beside her for a while and smile, just smile at only her, once - for once.

Her only response is the worst kind of lie, this soft: "really nothing."

The moment where it slips and hangs between them, when it lingers the longest -

She could reach out, a hand on her thigh, the small of her back, if she could only reach. And Yeji, she'd listen to her, for once. She'd really, genuinely hear what Ryujin says; like she can see it, plain as day, everything there's in Ryujin's eyes, the thoughts inside her head, written on her goddamn face and across the open night air in neon:

I love you. I'm in love with you, you're too close to me.

The seconds pass. They tick, they stretch and grow thin. Yeji looks at Ryujin expectantly, and Ryujin knows. It is something like being put on the spot and called in. Something like a long, pained whimper caught somewhere in her throat.

She is very much still, unmoving, and feeling nothing at all.

Maybe she can blame the alcohol, the dark, the series of events that saw her hiding away behind a bunch of decorative trees and fighting for breath where the wind blows a little cooler. She can pretend like the stars aren't absent above her, and it doesn't hurt a goddamn bit.

“Yeji, I-” She licks at her lip, ready, willing-

Ryujin grabs at her waist with a hand. Her knuckles white around the black of the railing. And with no further fanfare, she spits it out like venom, with no small measure of shame or guilt or worry for how Yeji will take it - or worse: how she herself would react in the wake of admitting it aloud -

“I love you,” Ryujin says, and it pops out of her mouth as neatly as it had the first thousand times practicing alone in her car.

A blink, and another. The look on Yeji's face is hard and blank, as if she'd understood every syllable, but didn't hear it at all - maybe. Her gaze drops, it trails a path along the long line of Ryujin's pale neck. Of the two ways it could ever go in her head, stuck on loop for as long as she can remember, Ryujin had never considered that Yeji might turn this still and vacant. A sudden feeling, a pull or a grip, starts in the lowest part of Ryujin's guts.

"And not-," she hears her own voice falter, "like-"

Then - it's on the back of Ryujin's head and in her hair, a hand curled at the base of her skull and pulling her head a little downward and her, until their foreheads meet. And before she has a chance to walk it back - to stuff it down where it came from and seal the bottle tight - before she can clench her eyes, shake her head, and spit out anything else like the fact that there was not much that had to change, between them -

Yeji just says plainly: "Yeah, hun. Love you too."

And it's shockingly, the most painful thing - that she just squeezes her hand and pats her back like it's all they could ever be. Without even the wherewithal to reject her properly; to tell her something like "don't ever say that again, god," or "oh shit- Ryujin. Sorry. So, no," or at least to spit back with a scathing laugh: "welcome to the fucking party," like what she always does.

"Yeah." Yeji clears her throat quietly and starts retreating back from the brink - with no apparent aim but to pull away as she draws herself away from the warmth of Ryujin's space, "uh, don't forget to say hello to some of the staffers before they go home, okay?"

Ryujin is left with nothing but the air that follows Yeji's outline; left with her heart sinking into the depths of the night; left trying to make sense of the bitter sting ripping her chest in two.

Left with her own hopelessness - the pining - when Yeji walks away.

To be lonely, to be alone; neither are the same. 

And she hates knowing she is so incredibly both.

-

The worst part is she knows how it looks.

Her pace just on the verge of unsteady, the way her feet come up from the ground: Left foot, the right. The other. Back and back and forth again, faster and then slower and- fuck.

A damsel, severely distressed.

She sits down on the curb. She wants to cry, but even just the way she looks, carrying her heels and struggling with this fucking dress she wishes she'd never bothered with at all - oh, the tabloids would be sure every detail gets pinned under all the wrong lights. A breakdown would only serve to confirm all the right things; it would paint a story for anyone who cares enough to glean from her crestfallen posture and red cheeks that she is yes, a little broken, and that everyone wants to be loved and she's no different - and -

She sucks a breath. This time, when her tears fall, it's a quick, perfunctory action, no show in it.

Her palms rub her face - and she wipes, and wipes, and wipes - smearing at the foundation under her eyes before she takes a long drag of night air. Deep from her core, filling up her lungs until she can't hold anymore. Until it hurts and stings the backs of her ribs - it's enough for a single, fleeting moment. The street is mostly empty; an occasional car will speed by every now and then and it's those few and far between intervals that hurt most, that nearly shatter her: if she can barely do this, alone, how can she possibly be enough for anyone?

Ryujin’s smiling only to hold back her tears, and it fucking stings. She flicks hurriedly past the lock screen of her phone and swipes through the message stream with blurry eyes - there’s a whole host of people that want to know where the fuck she went, if she's safe, why she up and vanished the moment Yeji couldn't keep an eye on her. And well. The girl sighs.

Finds your name in her contacts and puts her thumb right beside it.

It rings exactly three times, and she hates the number. She hates how many things can be associated with that number in those seconds alone.

Four, the pause where you must have had the opportunity, but didn't decide to pick up - just leave it be. Then five - Ryujin is definitely no longer looking forward to any of this.

Six: it stops.

There's this crackle, and through the night -

"Just what brings you here, stranger?"

For an indistinct amount of time, Ryujin drifts in the whirlpool current of that question; it sinks her deeper, into the currents of your voice and the tone and what it's suggesting and demanding from her. All the things your voice is giving her permission to ask of and with and-

Until finally she answers back: "do you ever just, like, wish," a shallow pause for the hitch in her breath, "something, someone was a little more for you- or to- with you-"

The swell of a smile through the receiver; and you can't help your laugh, soft.

"Sometimes," is what you say, "that's just human, don't you think?"

She doesn't understand how something like love or life or desire should be a universal trait.

"Uh, maybe," she shrugs out, and thinks.

"It's pretty normal," you tell her.

Quiet, as if you were right in front of her.

"Look," you start, and you can hear how she sniffs her nose and swipes the pad of her hand right along the side of it, to catch anything stupid and stupid sounding leaking down to her upper lip. "You don't have to. Let's just hang out. Tell me anything."

And for once, she does.

She talks.

-

(The whole story.

From the first time Ryujin realizes the world is never going to be fair - that she shouldn't have to look at herself like she's unlovable because she's seen her friends be held as though they are - or at Yeji like she's completely unattainable or somehow, unlovable, and that someone as amazing as Yeji should have been loved from the moment she was born.

The rest comes through as fragments: the truth of her career. Yeji.

The balcony, the breeze, the bitter-fucking-disappointment.

And what came of that -

When Ryujin isn't a million and one words per minute, it feels, almost, it feels - she'd swear there was less noise in her own head: this thrumming in her brain has settled out; the walls around her and the echo coming off of them - the booming and pulsing - it's, gone.

Because even though there was an indistinct shape for where she had landed, in the aftermath, and nothing much had changed - all that did. You listen, and that alone makes it so you're both exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if this, tonight - you are unsure, if it will actually fix anything - if anything needs fixing at all.)

#ryujin smut #itzy smut #itzy ryujin smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[shiroisotto64]

UPDATING MY OZZIE AND FIZZ HEADCANONS 😁

ASMODUES

- Ozzie spoils his significant others. He loves to see them happy. Literally anything you want you get no questions asked!

- ( i don’t know what I was on when I said fizz could cook forgive me ) Ozzie tries to make breakfast whenever he isn’t to busy in the morning! And he lets them ramble on about whatever they want to!

- he’s super supportive of you and whatever your profession is! He doesn’t take disrespect towards his partners. You can dress as sluty or as comfy as you want. No judgement.

- he just tends to sit back and watch the chaotic things you and fizz do and get into. as long as your both not hurt in the process. If so then you’ll be (very lightly) scolded! Be careful next time.

- you’re really only seen next to Gina me fizz. He’s a sin fizz is super popular and you may be to depending on what your profession is. It’s just the best way to keep you safe honestly. You all go on trips whenever y’all wanna get out of the house tho. He lets you both choose we’re to go.

- ozzie checks up on fizz to make sure his limbs are functioning and while the smaller imp bounces around you sometimes cuddle fizz while he waits. Ozzie thinks it’s really cute.

- asmodeus is REALLY bad at keeping your relationship a secret. Yet so is fizz so it’s alright. They can’t hide the way they look at each other! And you of course. Ozzie has been caught on camera making lovey eyes to many times to count. 😭

- he’s always down to fuck if your up for it. It’s pretty easy to get him going. As we saw a good pair of puppy eyes and a smooth big daddy and your good. 👍🏽

Fizzarolli

- he’s so silly. Like actually. He’s all over you and flirting non stop! You can barely keep ‘em off you. He loves quality time and physical touch.

- he runs off of praise and attention from both you and ozzie. He’ll roll over and play dead of left to his own devices for to long.

- you and Ozzie watch in awe as he fusses over his little girls. He pampers his little pets like no other. He has the most fun during walks and bath time! They get water all over the place and he loves whipping his skates out! (Doesn’t want him skating in the mansion.)

- random fashion shows. He loves showing off all of his outfits and stuff. Different hats and everything. He even convinces Ozzie to get him different color limbs for when he wants to match em with the current color.

- he curls up on which ever of you is close when he’s tired. Just slings himself onto you honestly. But be careful! Sometimes it’s a trick. 💀 he’ll nip at you when you let your guard down and run off while giggling the little shit 😭

- Ozzie randomly hums and sings and he randomly imitates different horns and loud instruments. Fizz has made a beat out of his horns before.

- he still pulls pranks. Like screaming in your ear to wake you up in the morning. He’s been fussed at to many times for this so now he uses his horns. (Yay?)

- blushes when shown genuine affection or compliments but turns his head away to hid the blush if in public and regain his composure.

- a total show off but who’s surprised.

- fizz gets turned on if your protective of him. Especially if you can fight. Ozzie is more lax if he knows you can take care of yourself and fizz. But fizz brags about how safe he feels and how sexy it is that you get so worked up over his safety.

#fizzarolli #asmodeus #fizzarolli x reader #asmodeus x reader helluva boss #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus helluva boss

[hedgehog-moss]

The story of my 3-year-long quest to identify a very rare bird

So I've been trying almost since I moved here to figure out what bird made this strange call that I sometimes heard near my house:

I tried to google "european bird that sounds like a laughing hyena?" and also to imitate the noise over the phone for a friend who once took an online bird course, but she had no idea. (Well, she said "that's a hyena." I said, "but I hear it all the time! Near my house!! Wait I'll do it better." She said, please stop making a hyena noise :(( and I stopped because the cats thought I was losing my mind)

Eventually I managed to record the actual bird call on my phone, and used a Shazam app for birds—but once again, no luck. The first app I tried just assumed it was being trolled and was like "it's you, isn't it? That's not a bird that's your stupid human laugh, you're making fun of me. I'm not an idiot"

The second birdsong app was more insecure and apologised a lot for failing to identify my bird. I thought it must be a rare bird! (The only uncommon bird I know of in this region is the vulture but it sounds less like a hyena and more like if elephants were birds.) Every time I heard the call (usually during the day) I opened the window trying to a) get a better recording so my app would finally have an epiphany, and b) see something flying off a tree.

At one point I was cutting brooms in the pasture and heard the call very loudly, as if the bird was just a few metres away, and it wasn't coming from the sky. I googled every possible version of "flightless (?) bird that nests in thorny bushes?" and found nothing, and started wondering if it was actually a mammal. But I couldn't think of any plausible local mammal that would make this sound—definitely not a fox or badger, who say WAOOHHH, and nothing like the polite whistle of marmots. We've got pine martens in the woods and I found a video called "mating pine marten scream bark" and thought oh!! that must be it! ... but then I listened to it and it sounded like yiiiaaaaaeeeeee, like if you stepped on a baby banshee's toe, nothing at all like the heheeheuruurhh of a hyena who just heard a good joke.

Anyway, this morning I was in the pasture and I once again heard the hyena laugh! I was standing by the moose butler tying up the hay net, away from any trees or shrubs and the call came from just behind me. I turned around thinking there was absolutely no way for the mystery bird to hide, it had landed on the ground behind me and this time I was going to see it!

And

it was HER:

Absolutely no doubt. I saw Pampy's throat vibrating along with the last echoes of the hyena laugh. All these years I've been saying that llamas are very quiet animals who just make cute little "hum-hum" sounds (I rarely hear adult llamas humming to one another, it's mostly for mother llamas to communicate with their baby and with me) and I had no idea that the shrieking hyena-bird I occasionally heard outside my house was Pampelune! I googled "llama alarm cry" and immediately found youtube videos featuring llamas making this exact sound. There was a stray dog nearby this morning that Pandolf eventually chased away, so maybe Pampy was the first to hear him and sounded the alarm. Maybe she uses this cry to tell Pan to go do his guard dog job, because he left the pasture and ran into the woods when she made the sound (while I was turning round like "aha! you can't run, hyena-bird!")

I wanted to share this discovery! I've had llamas for nearly 4 years and I'm only now finding out that they can laugh like hyenas when the situation calls for it. I feel bad for the poor birdsong app that I've repeatedly gaslighted feeding it a llama call and insisting that it identify this bird for me while it hung its head in shame like "I swear I don't have your bird in my database. I'm so sorry. I'm a bad app."

Llamas are fascinating creatures. Please experience their majestic alarm call again, and be alarmed:

#crawling along #you can look it up on youtube if you want to check with your own eyes (and ears) #i would understand the scepticism. it seems like such a random sound for llamas to make! #also as i started writing this post i thought i'd check what hyenas actually sound like and #it's not like that at all ! i assumed they had a mean-spirited cackle because of the lion king i think #when really it's more of a charming good-natured giggle

[sweetkpopmusings]

how they feel before they know it's love with seventeen <3

a/n: i'm genuinely obsessed with "i don't understand but i luv u" like i have been listening nonstop since it dropped and i cannot get enough <333 i thought it'd be cute to do a lil post somewhat inspired by the song, so here it is !! i hope you find some comfort in the sweetness of these :,-) pics not mine~

content: fluff, sentimental and cute vibes only | wc: 2.6k | warnings: none really! | pairing: seventeen x gn!reader | requests: open

seungcheol♡‧₊˚

seungcheol, as a leader, knows how to step back and support his members, even when it comes to holding back what he wants to say to let the others continue the excited conversation. with you, it was an entirely different story. it’s not that he ever spoke over you–he would never dream of such a thing–but he talked with you nonstop. there was an effortless exuberance in your conversations because he knew that you’d always listen to him. anything, truly anything, that popped into seungcheol’s head was something he wanted to share with you. sometimes he worried that he was annoying you with his endless chatter, but speaking his mind to you was instinctive. he wanted to share every one of his thoughts and perspectives with you because he wanted you to have all of him. every word he said to you was filled with a deep desire to share himself with you. the vulnerability that flowed through each conversation with you convinced him that maybe, just maybe, there were some important words he had not said to you yet. 

jeonghan♡‧₊˚

jeonghan’s an extremely caring person. everyone knows that about him, but his thoughtfulness towards you went to a whole different level. he thought of you first for everything. everything. he could be on tour and trying a new drink, and the first thing that would pop into his head is “y/n would love this drink.” he did not care that you were hundreds of miles away from him; at that moment, all he would want to do is send you the drink in his hand, so you could try it and then tell him what you think about it. he never realized thought of you constantly until one of his members–probably joshua–pointed out how he always said your name in conversations or bought two of everything just in case. jeonghan would never intentionally try to bring you up, nor was he aware of how he ended up with duplicates of small items. in truth, your name was always on the tip of his tongue, and you were always on his mind. one day soon, something else would be on the tip of his tongue when he said your name. 

joshua♡‧₊˚

joshua tried to play it cool, but he was fascinated by you as soon as he laid eyes on you. the nuances of how you speak, the gestures you make when you’re telling a story, and the way your favorite songs exposed the most important parts of you–shua was obsessed with memorizing each of these things. when something about you was engraved in his mind, he would show you he knew it by teasing you. his imitations or remarks were always spot on, but they clearly came from a place of fondness and attention. he teased you effortlessly with a soft smile and a sparkle in his eyes, something that made you melt each time. he wasn’t aware of the look on his face or the tone of his voice because the adoration came out so naturally when he was with you. if other people were around when shua poked fun at you, it was completely obvious to them what he was actually saying when he flawlessly imitated your facial expressions while telling a funny story from when you two went to a coffee shop over the weekend. even before either of you could put words to it, you could clearly feel the love behind every teasing jab.

junhui♡‧₊˚

junhui is so very unique, and that shines through in the way he treats you. from the moment he met you, he felt a very intense urge to make you smile. he thought about you constantly, and, one day while shopping around in a random city the day before a show, he found a small figurine that reminded him of you. he was so excited to give it to you that he couldn’t stop smiling every time he looked at it. from that point forward, he collected small trinkets and keepsakes for you, as a way to bring you a little burst of joy, even when he was away. sometimes he bought them, and other times he would just hold onto a sticker from a music shop you went to together, giving it to you when he was proud of you for a specific accomplishment. to junhui, it only made sense to write you a little note with your favorite jokes and hide it in your bag for whenever you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up. through each thoughtful gift, it became clear that he wanted to give you the world, and junhui most certainly would, one snowglobe and ticket stub at a time. 

soonyoung♡‧₊˚

soonyoung always felt strongly about you, so he never really stopped to put an exact word to it. how he felt about and with you was something special, something only shared between you two. it was just the world you lived in together, and, in his mind, there was no reason to analyze his natural state of existence when it felt as wonderful as life did with you in it. one thing, however, that made his head feel light and his stomach feel frenzied was a new habit he developed after he met you. whenever he said something funny, even the smallest comment that made someone else laugh, he immediately had to tell you. he’d call you, send you a voice message, or rush over to you from across the room, just to tell you the story and repeat his silly little joke. soonyoung, from the first time he ever heard you laugh, knew that he needed to see that smile on your face and hear that sound fall from your lips every chance he got. he wasn’t quite sure what to call that. soon enough though, he’d figure out how to express his deepest feeling for you with words that weren’t tied to a punchline.

wonwoo♡‧₊˚

wonwoo always excelled at observing everyone and everything around him. after he met you, however, most of what he saw, heard, tasted, smelled, and touched made him think of you. everywhere he went, something reminded him of you, and he’d always smile. the shoes a stranger on the subway was wearing could be similar to a pair he saw you in the other week. maybe, in the back of the restaurant he ate at with friends after a long day of work, there was someone who ordered a drink he’d ordered for you a hundred times. no matter where he was, what he was doing, or whom he was with, wonwoo found something in his surroundings that tied him back to you. even when you two were together, you’d catch him smiling in a quiet moment. he’d brush it off, say “it’s nothing; i’m just happy to be here,” but, really, he’d want to say “the sound of the car horn made me think of that movie we watched together a few weeks ago, and every time i think of you i feel so comforted and happy, like nothing could ever go wrong.” he’d stay quiet, pondering what it truly meant to always find you in his surroundings regardless of the distance between you, and he’d squeeze your hand a little tighter as he discovered the answer.

jihoon♡‧₊˚

it was extremely easy for jihoon to find inspiration for his music from you. what he didn’t realize was that you left an indelible mark on his taste in music. whenever you two spent time together, he would give you the aux (literal or proverbial) because he was interested in what music made you happy, sad, want to dance, relax, etc. he listened very intently, and it took almost no time at all for the songs you introduced to him to make their way onto his playlists. more than that, he would frequently hum the melodies of songs you showed him as he walked around his place and cleaned. no one would ever point it out to him because they had no way of knowing that the new songs he obsessed over were all tied to you, but, eventually, jihoon realized that all the songs he associated with you were the only ones he ever had stuck in his head now. memories of you permanently embedded songs into his mind, a playlist only for him to listen to in the quiet moments of life. as he wrote lyrics that expressed this occurrence, he understood that it all came down to the fact he could never, and would never, get you out of his head. 

seokmin♡‧₊˚

seokmin was so fond of you, and he naturally expressed that fondness by giving you at least one thing to smile about each day. it started as a way to break the ice during conversations when you first got to know each other. once you two didn’t need icebreakers, the habit stayed, and seokmin’s habit became one of the strongest aspects of your relationship. seokmin never relied on anything fancy; he would send you a wholesome meme in the morning, so you could start your day smiling, or he would show you a funny video clip when you met up for dinner, starting the night off with a hefty dose of laughter. there was a sparkle in his eye when he laughed with you, one that only showed up when he saw your smile. he would be particularly proud if he made you laugh until tears fell or you smiled so big your cheeks hurt. whenever that happened, he would boast to his members, showing them the picture or video while beaming with excitement as he recounted your reaction. alongside his excitement toward your joy existed the fact that he couldn’t rest easy until he knew you had at least a little bit of serotonin in your day. truthfully, he never felt more at peace than when he was the source of that happiness, and he wanted to feel that for as long as humanly possible. 

mingyu♡‧₊˚

mingyu has a real presence. from his height to his goofy personality, people know when mingyu is around. those charms were how he caught your eye, and he always got an energy boost when you were around. as he grew closer to you, more comfortable, mingyu’s behavior revealed an even sweeter side of him. whenever he spoke with you, his voice was soft and careful, every word meant for you only. his looks always held you gently as he soaked up every word that you shared with him. any times jokes or teasing comments wove their way into your conversations, he laughed hard but quietly, just loud enough for you to hear, even leaning closer to you, enclosing the both of you in the joy of the moment. if you had physical contact with each other, mingyu’s touches were as soft as everything else about him. it was never out of the belief that you were fragile. rather, tenderness radiated from mingyu whenever he felt you near, and it enveloped his entire being when he looked at you. mingyu was always caring, always considerate, but his loved ones often commented that they had never seen him so soft before. mingyu knew, without knowing how to explain it quite yet, that you were the difference.

minghao♡‧₊˚

minghao values peace and quiet. life is chaotic for most people, and this was especially true for someone in his line of work. he tried, as best as he could, to create pockets of calm whenever and wherever he could, through meditation or simply waking up to watch the sunrise by himself. searching for that peace grounded him in his toughest times, and he depended on that calmness to get through it all. as he got to know you, searching for that peace became easier. minghao was calmer, knowing you were there, and he instantly relaxed whenever you were beside him. there was not anything specific that you did; you could just look at him, and his whole body would relax, proving just how stressed he had been mere seconds before he laid eyes on you. to minghao, you were the ultimate source of serenity. he never wanted to lean into clichés, but it was true that, even in a crowded room, he would know you were there by the way his heartbeat relaxed into a natural, happy rhythm. it didn’t take long for minghao to notice that you had this effect on him. it also wouldn’t be long before he admitted this, and something just as meaningful, to you.  

seungkwan♡‧₊˚

everyone knows seungkwan is an entertainer through and through. when you two were introduced to each other, he performed as well as he could to keep you laughing, and, unbeknownst to himself, to impress you. as time passed, however, he realized didn’t have to perform in front of you. he felt comfortable enough to be his most authentic self, and he only ever wanted to be his most authentic self with you. he still loved to do bits around you and be dramatic when the moment called for it, but he wanted to show you other sides of him too. for seungkwan, he felt a connection with and appreciation for you that could only be expressed by him letting his guard down. what mattered more than entertaining you was showing you every part of himself as honestly as humanly possible. showing up exactly how he was whenever he was with you was all he could think of because he always wanted to meet you exactly where you were. it wasn’t long after he realized this that his truest feelings toward you came out. it wasn’t something he thought of before he said it; it was something that slipped out when you asked him, “how was your day?” 

hansol♡‧₊˚

hansol’s mind is expansive. his perspectives reflect his astute introspection and deep compassion, and he would never cease to amaze–or entertain–those around him with the thoughts inside his head. to hansol, however, your mind was the most fascinating. he was deeply curious about the things that made up who you are: your hyperfixations, the dreams you had at night, your favorite snack for each time of day, etc. he was endlessly entranced by everything that colored your life. he wanted nothing more than to color his life with them too. this genuine interest meant that hansol’s eyes were filled with childlike wonder whenever you shared something about yourself with him. he committed every minute detail to memory, and he often retold anecdotes from your life during conversations with his friends. even to them, it was endearing to see his delighted laughter as he recounted stories of small social faux pas in your adolescence that became inside jokes between you two now. it was during one of those conversations, while smiling at the thought of you, that hansol started to uncover what influenced his infatuation with all things you.   

chan♡‧₊˚

chan took to you immediately. your personality charmed him, regardless of how charming you thought yourself to be. he couldn’t get enough of the conversations shared between you two, existential or lighthearted. chan genuinely wanted to talk to you as much as humanly possible–without annoying you or taking you away from the other people you cared about–and that’s why he started calling you whenever he was done with his schedules for the day. it could be the hardest practice of the year, but chan, drenched in sweat and barely able to walk, would light up the second you started to say “hello” on the phone. the sound of your voice literally put a pep in his step. he developed a liking to walking home, just so he had an excuse to talk to you for a long time without any interruptions. neither of you needed convincing, however, because everything flowed so seamlessly between you. chan didn’t know exactly how to tell you this, but, with you, he was eager to say even the simplest things until his voice gave out, just so he could keep on talking to you.

#seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen blurbs #svt blurbs #s.coups x reader #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #junhui x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #mingyu x reader #the8 x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #dino x reader #chan x reader

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh fam yall I just had this idea instead of exiting the shower!

Danny and Dani are never seen together. Like ever by any other Hero.

It starts off as just Danny working with the others and then he goes home to tell Dani all about it. Or OR Dani really wanted to tag along with Danny to meet the others but hearing about how Superman was Danny is worried for her safety so it’s a “you can’t show yourself but you can come. If you promise me to stay hidden the entire time. Please” so she agrees and tags along. They both are probably very worried about the Justice League (since the ecto acts and the League aligned with the government)

Danny doesn’t join up per-say but he is like on call if they truly need help. Though normally he just shows up if they need him. They have no idea how he knows. Cut to one day Danny is unable to go so Dani goes in his place. Shes always gone with him so she knows everything he does right? Lord is Danny super worried about her, his protection obsession going into overdrive. He trusts her though and she goes.

Thing is shes also a bit worried about the League. She just shows up and tries her best to stay out of their way and get the job done. Then it happens. Shes called over with a “HEY! Phantom!” A deep breath to calm herself and she flys over. ‘It’s ok Dani they haven’t attacked Danny once. You ate gonna be fine’ kinda deal. Shes putting up a mask or smiles like Danny always does. She has seen him interact with the League tons of times so she can imitate his behaviour with them to a T.

This of course caused some confusion among the League “are you a girl?” And just like that she gets an idea. A great Idea! If they don’t know that there are two of them then one will always be able to save the other. Plus it would be funny. So she goes full ham into the bit. “Oh yea hehe its just how i feel.” Time to put on the sheepish Danny act of rubbing the back of her neck and looking away “I uhh hope you guys don’t mind me being a girl”

Bam they all bite. Saying stuff about being who you feel you are or whatever. Accepting her on the spot. Well accepting the fact that Danny can be whoever he feels right being. At least they aren’t complete assholes. Though The Batman is giving her this look. She decided to use that to her advantage. Better the team think the bat is homophobic than to get on her case. It works of course. If she learned anything from Vlad it’s how to put on an act. As she flies off she can even still hear the team berating The Batman for his old fashioned backwards ways. Takes everything she has not to giggle as she goes, can’t have Superman hearing that.

When she tells Danny about it he just giver her a wicked grin. It’s been ages since the gremlin duo had this kind of fun.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dani phantom #I know a lot of people like her name as Elli or whatever and I like that too but I can’t use it #are you gonna sit there and dead ass tell me they wouldnt wanna have as much fun confusing people as possible #yes im Danny and this is Dani #kills me #sure she would wanna figure herself out and reinvent herself without Danny in mind but can’t let this joke go it’s a too much fun #god I love messing with batman so much it’s so funny #his kids are gonna be teasing him for months about this

[neoplatinum]

we can't be friends - ariana grande | minatozaki sana

summary: the earth only has one moon, are you really the moon to sana's earth?

pairing: childhood-friend!sana x fem!reader

themes: extremely angsty, best friends to ?? to ??, internalized homophobia, gender dysphoria, sana's not too great of a friend, reader is a pushover until she isn't, implied sex, original male character, [----] x reader

wc: 3.2k

(side b: north and south poles | minatozaki sana)

from what you've learned in school, at the very early age of kindergarten is that the earth only has one moon, only one. mars has two moons: phobos and deimos.

when you were kids, you were called deimos, sana was called mars, and fuji was called phobos. it was always you three together, running through the streets of the countryside of japan.

causing so much trouble for your administrators, running around yelling down the halls of your school, the terrible trio of class 2-A. leaving school was always fun too, running around for snacks and jumping at the sight of cats.

you and sana were always closer, whenever fuji had to go home early because of his strict extracurriculars, you spent time with sana. walking by the train tracks, looking for lost coins for the vending machine or even staying for dinner with sana’s parents. it felt like it was you three taking on the small town.

until it didn’t. when middle school rolled around, you were excited to see them two after a couple of weeks of summer. each of you was busy with other things in life, making it hard to meet each other. so on the first day of school, you strolled in, ready to take on the new school year with sana and fuji by your side, when you noticed they weren’t talking much to each other.

fuji found basketball friends in his group, clinging to them like they were his new lifeline. sana has gotten close to the popular girls, they were nice but very superficial, all having drama with each other but in front of the group, they all faked smiles for each other.

you found yourself in between two different worlds, you tried calling to them after school, but they both dismissed you saying they had extracurriculars. fuji had gone off to play with his friends during basketball practice, while sana participated in school government association.

you got tricked into becoming treasurer for the sga that very year, so it was nice to still be around sana. although you could feel her distance.

it isn’t until one spring afternoon, you feel your first ever heartbreak. sana rushes into the sga room while you were napping on a desk.

she taps your shoulder excitedly, “wake up!”

you rub your eyes and focus on sana, who’s shoving a letter in your hand. you read the first line and yeah, your heart is crushed.

“fuji confessed to me!” she shouts excitedly, doing a little dance by herself as you read the lines.

“oh, congrats.” you hand the letter back to her, she looks at you a bit puzzled by your simple reaction.

“he asked me out! im so excited.” she explains, going into detail about their supposed first date. “he might kiss me, what do you think?”

“if you want to kiss him, then kiss him.”

she rolls her eyes at that, of course she knows that. that’s not what she’s implying.

“what i mean is, i’ve never had my first kiss! i don’t know what to do.” she goes on, thinking about it seriously. “what if he kisses me, and i suck and he doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“sana, if he thinks you being a bad first kisser is a deal breaker then dump him.”

you explain, placing your head back on your arms.

“you have to help me!”

“help?”

“kiss me, pretend you’re fuji.”

“no way sana.”

“why? too much of a chicken to kiss me?”

“no im not!”

"bawk bawk bawk" sana mocks you. making flapping arm motions to imitate a chicken.

“fine!” you hold yourself together (as much as you can) and place your lips gently against sana, pulling her in by the neck. caressing her cheek before letting her go. her eyes are dazed.

“wow yeah, that was good.” she fiddles with her school skirt, “i wish you were a boy, you’d make a girl very happy kissing her like that.” she blushes and leaves you alone, you feel that jagged break in your heart tear a little longer.

your tears don't stop as you try and go back to taking a nap, feeling your breathing getting heavy and you stay the rest of the afternoon, crying about not being born a guy for sana.

--

that was the last time you really talked to sana, too hurt that you cut your hair short the next day in the bathroom sink. crying tears into the porcelain bowl, with tears filling around your choppy hair. when you finally stop, you try liking the idea of it being short like a boys. but sana doesn’t spare you a glance. suddenly the hair feels too choppy and the air that you didn't feel when your hair was long starts to bother you.

it doesn't bother you for long, once your hair grows back. it feels right, like you were meant to look this pretty and feminine. you stay away from both sana and fuji as much as you can.

until one day sana knocks rapidly at your door, you haven't had her over in years. high school created even more distance between you two, you found your own people to be around. people that never overlapped with sana and fuji.

--

until you see sana staring at you from across the door, eyes still sparkling as they always have, in that charming look. and the longer face, the warm smile and comforting scent of flowers. as much she is the sana you remember, you don't think she's the same sana you once knew.

"hi."

"hi sana, are you okay?" you let her in. and it's like you're transported back to when you were thirteen, letting sana come over whenever she needed to complain about fuji and his "boy" tendencies. now that you're both 18 and ready to set off into the real world, you feel a little strange having sana visit.

"yeah, i need your help." she starts, dropping her bag onto the floor. you feel your heart rate spike a bit, was sana in trouble?

"help with what?" you offer her a bottle of her favorite drink, royal milk tea.

"you remembered." she says softly, grabbing it and downing it in a few quick seconds, a sign she's nervous and with the tapping of her foot. you're feeling anxious just at the sight. "fuji asked to have sex."

you nearly spit out your own water, "what?" your eyes are wide and you stare at sana as she keeps her eyes away from you.

"i need your help."

"did he do something sana? i'll kill him myself." you get up.

"no, none of that. i want to, have sex i mean. i just can't with him first."

"why not?"

"well, i...i want my first time to not be him. i just know it in my heart."

"okay. so how am i supposed to help you?"

"be my first."

"sana! you can't ask that of me."

"why not? we're best friends, of course we can."

"sana no, you love fuji, he should be your first if you love him. you're dating him too, that would be cheating."

"i dont, i dont think, i just." she shakes her head. "it can't be with him first." she ends it softly, hands in her lap. looking like she's been scolded. you feel the guilt bubbling up in your stomach; here she was being vulnerable, and you just accused her of being a cheater.

"what's really going on?" you ask, she's not making sense anymore.

"i need you to be my first, i want you to be. it can't be anyone else." sana is firm. standing up and taking your hands in hers. with her eyes looking into yours like that, like she knows how much you love and adore her. you can't find yourself to say no, even if it betrays fuji.

"okay."

"yeah?" her eyes light up.

"yeah." you pull sana upstairs, and begging her to forget about fuji, just for one night. to only focus on you and to pull out those pretty sounds of sana uttering your name into the night.

you don't stop until you feel sana against you, like it's where she belongs, right in your arms.

--

when sana leaves in the morning, you feel that gash that you've been trying so hard to heal get ripped apart again. she thanks you like you're someone who was there to provide a service to her, like that's the only purpose you served her that night.

as if you didn't pour your heart out as you kissed down her torso, cherishing her body like the gods sculpted it. as if she isn't the only woman in the world, you begin to think maybe that's what you were made for. someone to exist for sana, and never with her.

this hurtful thought bumps around your brain, hitting every surface of it, you feel your heart break into two. like you're led on a leash by sana, without her letting you ever leave.

it becomes a habit, a habit you can't break. you circling between the sana and fuji whenever it was the holidays or birthday parties. each year you feel more and more of your soul slip away. you can't begin to tell where your identity begins and ends without sana.

doesn't help that fuji is a good man for sana. always considerate and careful, giving her the space and time she needs when she's overwhelmed. you think sana chose well, a good man in her life that'll never waver his loyalty for her.

but it leaves you in disarray, sana contacting you for her relationship problems. leaving fuji all alone as she calls you to escape. weeks spent away from fuji, where you two meet hidden away from the world. a hidden place filled with drunk kisses and hookups, ones you would never utter to fuji.

you being invited at her parties, seeing his arms draped around her like you weren't caressing them just days ago. it's all too much, you don't know if you can be friends with her. ever again.

until she marries fuji, she hands you their invitation card herself. how dare she? after years of being a secret she hands you a knife for you to stab into your heart, and she does it with a smile. explaining how happy she is to have the wedding of her dreams, while you feel the woman of your dreams slip right through your fingers.

but then the reality hits, she was never yours to begin with, you two are simply friends. just best friends that know each other's bodies too well.

you play your part well, giving a dedicated speech to them two. reminiscing of the early days of you as a trio. days of mischief, talking about learning of their feelings for each other, making jokes about how they were polar opposites, destined to find each other magnetically. you leave out the part where you think you would fit well with sana even if you aren't the opposing magnet.

you try and stay away from her as much as you can after the wedding, to save your own heart (as much there is left). blocking her number and taking time away from japan. going overseas to travel, and it works out well, you meet a woman named momo, you don't mention the woman to sana. you don't hear from sana and you feel your heart calm a bit, like it's finally able to take a break.

when you return to japan, you find her at your doorsteps, fallen asleep at your door. she wakes up to the sight of you and hugs you immediately, complaining about how worried she was that you disappeared. you don't mention how you blocked her number. letting sana into your apartment and she drops the biggest news on you that you could ever expect: shes pregnant.

"congratulations sana!" you fake a smile and she goes on to explain that it's going to be a little girl. and she's so excited to dress her up and have a daughter.

you feel like you're hearing static noise as she goes on, sitting on your couch talking animatedly about the new nursery and all the books she's been reading about motherhood. it isn't until she finally steps away to go home that you realize that you never said more than congratulations.

--

months later, she births the beautiful baby girl. you wait outside the room, a balloon in one hand and a pack of diapers in the other. the nerves of having to see sana after so long made you vomit in the hospital bathroom just ten minutes ago. you try to focus on anything else, the sterile walls, the smell of sanitizer, the sounds of nurses chatting. then you see fuji step outside, looking like a tired first-time father.

"congratulations fuji!" you say as you pass him the diapers. he laughs at the sight and thanks you before saying he's going outside to get some food and that sana is awake.

you step into the hospital room and hear the rhythmic heart monitor and low beeps of machines. there sana is, exhausted as ever but happily babbling to her baby. you can see the little baby in the swaddle. you walk up to the bedside.

"hi sana, congratulations on your new baby." you tie the balloon to her bed, and she smiles at you, tired but always warm. "she's beautiful, sana." you wash your hands and poke at her cheek.

"isn't she? i think it's too early to say, but she might have my eyes." you look back down and see the baby, eyes closed in bliss. you think they look like sana's too. ones that you used to look at as kids.

"i want to name her after you." she starts, gently caressing her head. you stop, leaning back quickly.

“dont do that sana, don’t give it the same curse you gave me.” you bite out. sana stops caressing the baby's face to look at you. “forced to love someone who will never love them back.”

"what are you talking about?" sana says gently, you've never raised your voice at her in all the years you've known each other.

"sana, you can't give her my name. i forbid you to." you say sternly; after how much she destroyed you, you're not letting her name her daughter that.

"but, why?" she's still perplexed, eyes wide.

"it's not right." you look away from sana, years of pain resurfacing just at the idea. "you really hurt me, i don't want you to name your daughter after me."

she doesn't press you on the matter anymore, anxious eyes darting all over the room, trying to find an escape from this conversation.

"what about being her godmother?"

"i'm moving away sana."

it's like the final nail in the coffin, both phrases being said at the same time. you realize there's no other way to say it, not over text or a call. it's better to say it here, ripping off the bandaid completely.

"moving? where are you moving?" you can hear the heartbeat machine beeping faster, and you see her heart rate climbing steadily.

"korea, i got a job over there." you say dismissively.

"oh wow, when do you move?" sana's voice is timid as she tries to hold back tears at the idea.

"i leave in a week." you say, picking your stuff up getting ready to leave. "congratulations again sana, your baby is beautiful and healthy. tell fuji that he'll be a good father, i know it." and with that you step to leave, and just as you turn the knob you can hear it, the sound of sana crying.

you try not to cry yourself, but you can't stay here. orbiting around two people who are building their life together. you weren't supposed to be here to begin with. earth never had two moons. you nearly bump into fuji when he opens the door.

"oh fuji, i'm sorry i couldn't stay long." you offer when you see him outside, food in hand and excited to talk to you, he smiles sadly. giving you a hug as you walk outside.

feeling like for once you control your own life, your love is yours, and no longer sana's.

"stay a while longer, sana is so excited to see you!" he says, trying to urge you to come back inside.

"it's okay, we'll see each other around." you turn to look back at sana, and she stares right into you with tears running down her face and glaring at you. you just told your final lie to sana, closing the door behind them, like you closed your relationship with sana.

--

you don't see sana for years; it's strange. growing up with so much hurt and pain made it difficult to enjoy your romantic relationships, but you realize there is always a person for you, yours being hirai momo, not sana minatozaki.

here at incheon international airport, you stretch from your seat, needing to get some movement in before you sit in that cramped airplane seat for hours. so you make a beeline to the bathroom, walking directly into a young girl.

she falls backwards, nearly hitting her head on the floor, but you catch her in time.

"hi sweetie you okay?" you pat her down, pulling her shirt down. she nods at you and you see her eyes, and you feel your memories shift back to when you were five years old, meeting that girl that sat near you in class 2-A. she runs towards someone.

you stand up and recognize those eyes immediately, sana minatozaki in the flesh after five years. eyes wide as she stares at you. fuji right by her side.

you can see the recognition in sana's eyes. you walk right up to them, offering the couple a hug. sana's arms grip onto you so tightly you feel your ribs in her hold. then you feel a tug at your pant leg.

you turn around and smile at the girl by your leg.

"say hi hana, this is sana and fuji." your little girl waves to them hi, while sana is still staring at you. fuji starts congratulating you, excited to see that you have a daughter. you let out a laugh. then you feel a pat on your back, with momo walking up to kiss you.

then you let your daughter down to play with sana's daughter. eyes fond at the two little girls chasing after each other.

“it’s been a while.” sana's voice cuts into your thinking.

“yeah, i guess it has.” you reply, finally looking at her after so long. sana gulps, willing the tears away.

"honey, you’re crying.” fuji says wiping away sana's tear, you smile at that. he's good for her.

“oh i didn't notice.” sana laughs, rapidly wiping her tears away.

you let the three of them talk, momo joining in and introducing herself. you're left feeling a bit better about your decision to leave sana's side all those years ago. waiting for her to love you back would've costed your relationship with momo, especially since you would have never had hana.

it's important to know when being friends turns into we can't be friends anymore.

--

a/n: hehehehehe, angst is so fun to write, that's probably why it's everywhere in my writing. thank you to the anon who requested this! i wrote this in like 6hrs. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#sana x reader #twice sana #sana twice #minatozaki sana #sana minatozaki #twice x you #twice x reader #twice #kpop imagines #neoplatinum

[raticalshoez]

a secret life session five compilation of my favorite silly moments (ft. my poor phone quality camera)

Transcript below cut (did it for fun; this is the first time I've done one):

[Jimmy]: No?

[Martyn]: Wait- so wait. You're not the ghost horse?

[Martyn]: I thought you were ghost rider! Who's ghost rider?

[Jimmy]: ...Who is that?

[Martyn]: I mean we could always punch them and find out.

[Jimmy]: Yeah.

(Immediately sword crits Lizzie)

[Martyn]: AH...

[Jimmy]: OH MY GO-

(Long Pause)

[Jimmy]: NO! NO. NO.

[Martyn, overlapping]: What did you do?!

~~~

[Mumbo]: Who wants to have a competition with me? How many times can yoou jump over this campfire?

[Martyn]: Uhh, sure?

[Mumbo]: 'Kay.

(Mumbo takes damage while jumping over the campfire)

[Martyn]: Oh, jeez.

[Pearl, exasperated]: Mumbo...

[Cleo, fairly amused] Mumbo...

[Pearl]: Zero, appearantly.

[Mumbo]: So, I- I've set the score at zero.

(Martyn tries and succeeds)

[Mumbo]: Ooo, okay.

[Martyn]: There you go.

[Mumbo]: You already got one.

[Pearl]: Mumbo...what are you doing..?

(Mumbo jumps again and takes damage again)

[Mumbo]: Okay...

[Cleo, laughing]: Mumbo..!

(Martyn tries it again and jumos over it flawlessly, again)

[Mumbo]: Zero again for me.

[Pearl, overlapping]: Mumbo, stop-

~~~

[Tango]: You got spleefed by an enderman. I love it.

[Etho, doing a poor imitation of Bdubs]: Sheesh! I'm late! Judas Priest! Let me park my horse. I'm coming up!

(Heart Foundation's laughs + Grian's hysterical laughter overlapping with his talking)

[Grian]: Hi, "Bdubs."

[Skizz]: This thing's not ready because-

[Etho, still doing that impression]: What is this?--

~~~

[Lizzie]: I'm going.

[Tango]: Lizzie, we missed your party!

[Lizzie]: Oh, did you?

[Skizz]: We're so sorry.

[Lizzie]: Oh, I didn't notice because I was having so much fun with the one person that turned up! Goodbye, everybody!

(Heart Foundation all "aww"-ing out of sympathy)

~~~

[Cleo]: If you go to- If you go and do levels in the end you can like-- like I got seven, so.

[Gem]: Wowww.

[Cleo]: Hi, biggest, bravest, boy!

[Bdubs]: Thank you! I am!

(Cleo wheeze)

~~~

[Bdubs]: Okay. Yes?

[Etho, overlapping]: Look at this guy.

[Grian, very monotone]: Bdubs, my beloved. You've returned.

[Bdubs]: Wait- both of you? I'm gonna puke--

~~~

[Joel]: What is Pearl building???

[Gem, hidden beneath Mumbo's laughter]: You should just...admit defeat, if I'm being honest.

[Joel, overlapping]: Pearl...

[Joel again, deeply distressed]: WH- WHY HAVE YOU GONE FOR THIS COLOR SCHEME, PEARL??? WHY THIS SHAPE AND THIS COLOR SCHEME, PEARL????

#trafficblr #ethoslab #smallishbeans #solidaritygaming #pearlescentmoon #grian #tangotek #ldshadowlady #bigbst4tz2 #inthelittlewood #skizzleman #bdoubleo100 #zombiecleo #geminitay #secret life smp #idk if i really needed to tag ALL of them but they're all there #god i just realized how many clips i had from this episode just because i send so many silly moments to my friends #so i used my limited editing skills to make this #if there's something wrong about the way i've done the transcripts please let me know!

[raainberry]

I’m so glad you got lost

Jihyo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - helping a damsel in distress like in the old times still works like a charm (you’re a security guard at a music festival and Jihyo appreciates both your help and looks)

worcount - 2.9K

T/W - none i think, but like cute summer vibes, first meeting, sweet moments, you’re whipped for her, the usual stuff

A/N - lowkey struggled, tried to get a bit out of my comfort zone by adding a little more desc but not mad at how it turned out

The outdoor festival Jihyo and her friends chose to spend their weekend at was a success. The atmosphere was vibrant, fun and exciting, the music was good, the food was even better, but perfection is just never possible.

Something had to go wrong or else it wouldn’t fun.

Losing a few people in a friend group as large as hers is understandable and not uncommon. It’s expected, maybe even fate, but only losing one? Now it just felt like luck was involved and there wasn’t any on her side as Jihyo found herself to be that one lost friend.

She tried to scan the elated faces surrounding her for signs of more familiar ones in vain. She could feel a sense of mild unease creeping over her as the crowd seemed to grow denser, making it all the more difficult to locate anything familiar by the minute.

She was slowly feeling herself losing grip over the situation when a gentle hand found its way to her shoulder.

The sudden contact startled her though, and she turned to see who it belonged to. Last thing she expected to face was a warm, comforting smile.

"Hi! You look like you’re on a mission,” you chuckled. “Need a little help?" you offered over the loud music.

Jihyo’s eyes quickly noticed your attire, and if the black and bulky clothes you wore didn’t make it evident enough, the “security” arm band did enough on its own. She’s never been more thankful for assistance in her life, and a flicker of relief crossed her features as she nodded.

"I'm looking for my friends, there’s no service and it's getting a bit overwhelming.” she explained, her voice barely audible.

You nodded understandingly, and gestured for her to follow you. With practiced ease, you navigated through the crowd while Jihyo trailed close.

Your familiarity with the festival grounds seemed to guide you effortlessly, and maybe it was the distress she was in, mixed with the fact that you jumped in to save her when no one seemed to care—maybe the uniform had its hand in as well, but… You looked pretty cute.

The soft and warm smile, the gentle and protective gaze as you looked back at her every once in a while, making sure she followed suit—and the hand… The way your hand brushed against her exposed skin as you guided her; never daring to rest it on her arm, her back…

The subtle spark your touch ignited didn’t go unnoticed on your end either.

In fact it was very much felt. Though you were focused on getting your job done, part of your attention was monopolised by her appearance.

Jihyo, a name you had yet to learn, was certainly one of the prettiest sights this weekend outdoors offered. The make up she wore was flattering, highlighting features you found to be among your favorite in people. They looked even better on her.

You crossed eyes with her brown ones a few times on your way over to the security post. The hints of worry as she looked around tugged at your heart, feeling a sudden need to protect her beyond the way your duty called for.

“Let's see if we can spot them from here." You said, holding on to the bit of professionalism left in you before helping her up the ladder to reach the small elevated shed.

It was a sort of temporary lifguard tower imitation. Your colleagues referred to it as a base to make it sound fancier—which you mocked them for multiple times—but part of you hesitated to use the word in case it would impress the damsel you’d brought over.

You judged against it though, something your future self would be thankful for, and instead guided the woman up to the railing surrounding it.

The vantage point offered a broad view over the better half of the festival, and her eyes wasted no time in scanning the animated sea of festival-goers.

You joined the search only a second later, snapping yourself out of the micro-trance her sculpted arm sent you in when she brought her hand up to shield her eyes.

You don’t know how long it took, if the silence as your gaze flitted from one cluster of people to another was awkward or not; but she ended reuniting with her friends.

Their shouts for her as they noticed her up the tower from the ground taught you her name, and you had a hard time tellibg whether your smile was because of how funny their desperate waving looked from up there, or because of the way her name fit every idea of her your mind had managed to come up with.

A wave of relief washed over Jihyo, and you were sure to never forget that grateful smile she sent you before rushing to friends.

Who knows how they got separated. The thought was very much far out of line, but you were glad she got lost.

—

As the day melted into the night, the festival began to wind down, and the crowd started to thin out.

Jihyo and her friends made their way towards the exit, with the day's excitement still clinging to their spirits. A bunch of memories were made that day, all ranking in their own degree of wholesomeness.

The smile on Jihyo’s lips was subtle, her mind lost in the remnants of her emotions as she walked surrounded by the people she cared so much about.

Their intensity was exhausting, and little did she know this festival had just one more thing to make her feel, and her friends were very much happy to help with that.

As the group approached the exit, they spotted you there, your attentive gaze scanning the departing crowd. A quiet presence amidst the festival's crescendo.

Jeongyeon, her most daring friend couldn't resist her own playful nature as she hurried to tease Jihyo, "Look, your savior’s still on duty.” Her elbow nudged into her best friend’s back a couple times as her messing around soon received back up.

“Why don't we go and say thank you for helping you?" Sana giggled, not bothering to wait for an answer from anyone, much less Jihyo as she made her way over to you.

The sight of a bubbly woman darting towards you was enough to get you on alert. Sana was oblivious to the walls you’d put up, and the ease with which she knocked them down was alarming.

You guessed her charm had a lot to do with it, but recognizing her as one of Jihyo’s friends from earlier did most of the job. As soon as you did, your gaze was quick to find the rest of the group approaching you.

Among them stood Jihyo, who stayed silent as they expressed their appreciation for your assistance earlier in the day.

Half their words didn’t make it to your brain, which was crazy considering there wasn’t many. In the moment, you found Jihyo’s silence to be much more interesting and important than anything else.

Teasing words and drunk people needing guidance could wait, you had an opportunity to take.

Your eyes met, and the sparks you caught in them were undoubtedly fueled by each other’s lingering effects ghosting over your skin. It seemed you could communicate without uttering a word, but you still needed her friends to make anything of this miracle.

The two of you exchanged numbers amidst the playful teasing of her friends, their laughter and banter serving as a backdrop to this tentative yet promising connection.

As she struggled to type in the right numbers in the correct order in your phone, Jihyo could only thank the moon for hiding the blush burning into her cheeks at the thought of everything this could lead to…

—

Well, back to square one apparently. Although the year it took to get there brought some wonderful changes.

“I can’t believe I’m back here again…” You sighed in disbelief over the situation.

You knew history repeats itself or whatever, and sure the romance you’ve built with Jihyo was one for the books, but damn… Losing your friends twice at the same festival is just too much.

While the situation kind of annoyed you, Jihyo seemed amused by it, laughing as she turned to you after a quick scan of the area. “Y/n, stop whining, it’s like a full circle moment, isn’t that fun?”

“Okay, but how do you lose eight people at once, I don’t understand.” You whined even more, frustrated, but the feeling was weak compared to the smile that cracked through your façade when you met your girlfriend’s pretty eyes.

They had a mischievous twinkle in them as she suggested, “Okay, let’s use your useless height. Let me climb on your shoulders,” she tapped on them and you lowered yourself down. “I’ll see if they’re anywhere near.”

“If that’s what you wanted all along you could have just said so.” You mumbled. “Didn’t have to lose everyone…”

A playful grin tugged at the corner of her lips as you caught her shameless one. You couldn’t resist her infectious joy. It only took you a few seconds to secure Jihyo onto your shoulders, and you went on to navigate through the scattered sea of people, laughter blending with the distant music.

"See them yet?" You asked after a while of weaving through the crowd. Jihyo shook her head, her hair swaying with the motion. "No," she frowned, gaze sweeping over the people’s head in search of the same familiar faces.

Apparently you took that as a sign to let her down, and she found out when you suddenly stopped in your tracks, crouching down to make her step down safely. Key word was sudden; Jihyo was not ready for the drop and ended up reaching for your hair out of survival instinct, accidentally tugging on it.

That hurt, naturally, so you let out a half genuine whine and brought a soothing hand to the top of your head as she tried to do some damage control. She’d made it down unharmed, but at what cost.

“Oh, baby I’m sorry—” She laughed through her apology, and although you didn’t doubt her concern, her laughter did make the mocking come out on top.

Her hands tried to convince you otherwise, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You felt a rush of warmth as Jihyo's fingers brushed against your skin, her touch sending that same old shiver down your spine.

Despite her obvious amusement, there was an undeniable tenderness in her actions as she cupped your chin, her gaze scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, appreciating how close she was.

“You should have warned me, did it actually hurt?” She asked and you pouted your lips in hopes to get a healing kiss from her own.

“Kind of.” You said, but she only gave you a few mocking giggles, making you sulk even more.

“I’m really sorry.” Jihyo's laughter was infectious, filling the air with joy as she peppered kisses all over you. You could feel the pain fading with each one of them. Each touch of her lips against your head, your forehead, spilling over your temples…

Placebo effect or the healing power of love, whichever it was, it worked.

It was in moments like these, where you stood together, lost in your own little world, that you realized how grateful you were for her and the love and warmth she’d brought into your life.

“Well, there you are!” A familiar voice you recognized as Nayeon’s pulled your eyes off each other, finding the rest of the group trailing behind her. “We’ve been looking everywhere, stop wandering off!”

“Yeah, or just get a room. No one wants to see this.” Jeongyeon gestured to the two of you, waving her hand around in a way that pulled a laugh out of everyone.

You only shared an amused look with Jihyo, a silent understanding prompting the two of you to playfully stick your tongues out in response, brushing off the harmless teasing.

—

Jihyo is competitive.

You knew that by now and learned the hard way. The only reason you don’t cry when she renders you bankrupt in Monopoly is because you’re cut from the same cloth.

She’d found her match in more ways than one, and her friends were oh so delighted, taking any opportunity to turn games into a true and free show by putting the two of you on opposite teams.

“You don’t stand a chance.” You told Jihyo, grabbing the cornbags from the friendly festival-goers who’d put up the game and turned it into a side attraction.

Trashtalk isn’t the most loving kind of talk, but the two of you kept it playful and harmless, taking it as a form of bonding.

“I love you.” Jihyo answered, ignoring your words, and her knowing look startling you into a horrifying realisation.

How could you forget about the pre-game vows…

“Right, I love you too.” You smiled, quickly going over to her side in order to lay a shy kiss on her cheek. The gesture pulled a few aw’s and laughs from the small crowd around, but you could very well distinguish your friend’s teasing as you went back to your side.

The game started shortly after with Jihyo opening it. She never went easy on you, and neither did you, to everyone’s pleasure.

The way you bickered, trying to destabilize and distract each other in each round was a highlight of a lot of people’s night.

While you tried to stay civil, only sticking to playful taunts and harmless cheating claims, your girlfriend went as far as stealing one of your bags.

Honestly you weren’t mad she did it, you were only mad you didn’t do it first because the point she made with it was counted by the appointed referee, along with the crowd’s approval.

It was everything but fairplay, but it was a good time. A memory you’d cherish for a long time.

“Congratulations, Hyo.” You shook her hand and she chuckled at you formal greeting. “I hope you know I let you win.”

Her laugh resonated amidst people’s cheers and playful protests from the ones who’d been cheering for you.

The smile on your face stuck around even when she landed a playful swat on your shoulder. If it weren’t her you’d be sulking like never before. She was the only one you’d be glad to lose against.

—

The chaotic search earlier didn’t teach you anything. That same evening you wandered off again, although this time you did at least agree on a place to meet back at.

As the night slowly settled in the sky, moon and stars rising to offer a gentle lighting support to the ones the festival offered, the two of you embarked on a stroll around the grounds you were still familiar with somehow.

Hands clinging to the other, fingers intertwined and shared giggles marked the way you’d remember the moment.

After a while, you walked into a quieter, more secluded area where nature seemed to hush the lively music still blasting from the stages afar.

The playful twinkle in your eye was hard to miss and stay indifferent to for Jihyo as you sat down, arms wide open and inviting.

You recognized the grin she sent you before ignoring the arms she was actually dying to feel around her. She went to sit next to you instead, prompting your shoulders to sink down with your arms.

“Why are you so mean to me today…” You sighed, wonder dramatically evident on tour face.

Jihyo chuckled, a soothing sound that brought more comfort to the bubble you were immersing yourselves in. “I’m not mean, you just made it really easy for me to tease you,” she shrugged, eyes wiping her nonchalant words with the affection they held for you.

Your smile returned when she carried herself into your lap shortly after, shifting herself to comfortably rest her back against your chest.

A quiet conversation eased itself between the two of you, soft and shy words reminiscent of the path you’d shared together so far as you mindlessly cuddled her; your gentle swaying a soothing rhythm.

“Do you remember when we met here?” Your voice sounded a little more nostalgic than you meant as you spoke.

Jihyo’s gaze softened on the flowers standing in the grass she was picking at. “Of course I do. It was only a year ago.”

“Feels longer, though, no?” You asked, wondering if she felt the same for a few seconds. The bond you’d developed was so strong, sometimes you forgot it was only your 8th month together coming up.

Everything was still so fresh, yet intense in the most perfect way. You could only hope she was on the same page.

“It does.” She admitted quietly. “It’s a little scary to think about sometimes.”

You recognized the nerves in the small laugh she let out, and you focused on softening the patterns your fingers caressed over her upper arm as she continued. “I mean… I was hopeful when I gave you my number, but I really didn’t think it’d amount to anything close to what we have.”

A small smile tugged at your lips upon hearing her words. It was enough reassurance for your heart. “You know, I never told you this, but… I thought this then and I think it now; I’m so glad you got lost that day.”

Her giggles sounded amazing breaking the peace and quiet you were getting used to, and she suddenly sat up to look at you in an amused kind of disbelief.

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, but you looked so pretty, and your smile almost made me faint; what else was I supposed to think?”

“Really?” She said slyly, poking at your chest. “What else happened?”

“Well, there’s not much. We barely spoke and acknowledged each other for like ten minutes tops.” You reminded, and the truth only made her roll her eyes before bringing you in for a kiss.

Her sudden impulse led you to share a quick, tender kiss, something you almost considered a moment of weakness when you pulled away on instinct, expecting the girls’ banter and teasing.

You could only laugh at each other when you realized you were alone. Happiness bubbled between the two of you, pushing Jihyo to draw you back into a sweet, deeper kiss.

It didn’t last long though, as your embrace soon got interrupted by the sudden burst of fireworks further away.

Right, that’s what you’d wandered off for this time.

#twice x reader #jihyo x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #jihyo fluff #park jihyo #twice jihyo

[ghostlychief]

gorgeous

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

summary: you’re drunk and you might be making fun of Ghost’s accent (lovingly ofc)

A/N: Inspired by Taylor Swift's song Gorgeous, specifically the lyrics: "You should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk."

Warnings: drunk reader; minors DNI

wc: ~800

~*~*~

You probably should have stopped yourself after your second whiskey coke, but here you are on your third. One could say good decisions are never made when you’ve had more than two drinks, but you really are put your faith in the hands of the heavens tonight.

It’s been a long week.

You could also slightly place some of the blame on your convincing co-worker, Mara, for offering to buy you two out of the three drinks you’ve consumed tonight. Who wouldn’t want a free drink, let alone two?

You and Mara are sitting at the bar, laughing and talking about both of your shitty weeks, when all of a sudden, she stops and looks at something over your shoulder. Her eyes find their way back to yours and a smirk develops on her plump lips.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here.” Your brows furrow and a small (albeit cute) pout forms on your lips. Your buzz is not helping, while you think about who could have shown up to warrant a reaction like that from Mara.

As you’re about to turn around, Mara quickly places a hand on your shoulder stopping you. “Wait, hold on.” Obviously, she can see something you can’t, and you’re itching to turn around to see who it is.

She places her hand on your forearm, “Don’t turn around just yet. Let him come to us.”

Ah, so it’s him. You have a hunch about who it is.

Your assumption is correct, when a large, warm hand is placed on your shoulder, and the owner of said hand says, “Fancy seeing you two here.”

You would know that accent anywhere, let alone, who owns that accent.

You lightly chuckle, and feel his hand lightly squeeze your shoulder, making small sparks light up and down your tummy.

You turn around in your chair so you can finally see him. He towers over you still, even though you’re on a raised bar stool and as you look up at him and meet his eyes, you grant him a smile.

His hair is slightly tousled, not doubt, slightly longer than the standard military grade hair length requirement, but you love the length of it. It suits him, you think.

In the dim light of the bar, you can still make out the scars that are scattered across his face. You’ve always had the urge to trace your fingertips along them, asking him about each one.

One might say you have liquid courage, and so your response to your very tall and handsome coworker is, “Fancy seeing you here,” in a very much so, exaggerated British accent. You may have also tried to replicate Ghost’s deep voice, which also added insult to injury.

You glance back at Mara who is holding herself back from laughing and when you glance back up at Ghost, you see that his eyebrow is quirked, yet his hand still comfortably rests on your shoulder.

“Your accent is funny.” You dig yourself deeper into the ground, but your foggy brain doesn’t really care. You love teasing your stoic coworker.

“Oh really?” You really love his deep voice. You’ll admit it.

Ghost has since moved, so now, he’s standing in between you and Mara, still seated at the bar. His hand leaves your shoulder, but now rests on the back of your chair. A gesture that makes you feeling warmer, and has you smiling deeper.

You nod your head and hum, “mm hm. But it’s okay because you’re tall, and cute.”

I am seriously going to regret this tomorrow.

You miss Ghost’s quick glance to Mara, who quietly winked at the man, encouraging him. Ghost leans down a bit, so he’s closer to your ear. The bar is quite loud, with everyone talking, and the music playing loud. So, his close proximity leaves a chill down your spine.

“Despite your poor efforts to imitate a British accent, I think you’re cute too.” His gruff voice pierces your ears, and you think you’ve caught on fire by now. No doubt, burning a bright crimson in his presence.

 You let out a soft laugh, forgoing your fake British accent. “I’m just messing around, it’s nice to see you here.”

Ghost lets out a soft laugh before asking, “Let me buy you a drink?”

You’re honestly surprised your coworker, who you’ve had a crush on for the longest time, is offering to buy you a drink. So, you of course say yes, and spend the rest of your evening talking the ear off to your coworker, him doing the same.

And when you wake up the next morning, you notice a text from Ghost, asking you on a date.

~*~*~

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost fic #simon riley fic #cod ghost fanfic #mw2 ghost fanfic

[avatar-anna]

Classic Fall Fun

my mind is empty. i bought a halloween squishmallow and decorative pillows for fall. so i wrote a blurb about it. enjoy!

"Baby...What...?"

"I can explain!" you blurted, rushing over to your fiance.

"I hope you can," Harry murmured as he picked up a throw pillow from the couch. "I can hardly see the sofa under all these."

"There was a sale," you began. "I was only going to the craft store for puzzle glue because I finished my puzzle this morning and I wanted to hang it up, but then I saw the Fall and Halloween section and..."

"And you turned our living room into Halloweentown," Harry said.

"You remembered!" you said, trying to shift the subject off all the Fall decor that now lived in your home.

You really didn't mean to buy all the decorations—the throw pillows, the blanket with pumpkins and candy corns and warm toned leaves on it, the welcome mat that said, Hocus Pocus!, and all the little decorations that were perfectly arranged on the kitchen counter. You'd been proud of how perfect your home looked, how everything tied together so nicely. Now that Harry was here, though, you worried you'd overdone it. Or worse, he'd make you take it all back.

"Course I remember," Harry said. "You've only made me watch it every year since we've been together."

"I—I know it's a lot," you said, trying to hide a stuffed vampire holding a little pumpkin spiced latte behind you and out of his eyesight. "But you know I love decorating, I mean I did the whole house when we moved in—very tastefully, I might add—and I love the holidays an—and themes, and—You're laughing at me."

Harry shook his head, chuckling softly. He took your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting. Some light teasing? Sure. Insisting you take at least some of it back? Probably. But you mentally crossed your fingers that you could keep it all. Right down to the mummy mugs and ghost candle holders.

"I've been waiting for this day, if I'm honest. I'm surprised it didn't come sooner. Starbucks changed their menu two weeks ago."

Blushing, you held Harry's hand as it rested on your cheek. "Do you hate it? If you hate it, I can scale it back."

"I love it," he said. "And I love you."

He led you to the couch where he took the same stuffed vampire you tried to hide and held it against his stomach. You took the blanket that rested on top of the couch and draped it over yourself and Harry, snuggling up close to his side. You kissed his cheek a couple times, stomach flipping when you felt his grin beneath your lips.

"No Halloween movies yet, because it's not October, but..."

"Way ahead of you," Harry said, reaching for the remote and firing up Netflix on the TV.

"I knew you liked the show as much as I do," you said with a grin.

"You realize it's actually quite hot out, right?" he said, but pulled you closer anyway as he made himself more comfortable.

You shushed him as the theme song played. You'd thought of that already, and the air conditioning was already pumping through the vents to make it the perfect temperature for hiding under the fluffy blanket. And drink warm drinks. And cuddle in bed with the twinkly lights you put up earlier while listening to music.

"I know it's silly. I know it's...a little over the top, but—"

"Hey, I think it's cute how excited you get over the holidays," he said. "And, just because I know how much you love Autumn, so I got you something."

"Autumn," you repeated, imitating his accent. "What did you get?"

"An appropriately themed seasonal puzzle that we can complete together."

Your eyes lit up immediately. "You bought us a puzzle?"

Harry kissed you repeatedly, his fingers holding your chin lovingly. "I happen to like this season too, you know. Not as much as you, but I do. And puzzles. And you. Easy math."

You sighed and rested against his chest, kissing him over the soft material of his shirt a few times. Harry said it was fine, but you could admit that your love for this particular season was a little intense. But you loved putting a room together, making it feel warm and inviting and festive. And each item you put in your cart was part of a vision you had, and once you had said vision, you had to make it come to life. It was how you ended up putting all the rooms together in the house when you and Harry moved in. He had input of course, but he knew you had a knack for decorating and trusted your judgement.

And you couldn't help but think of the future too. Yours and Harry's. You wanted to do this for your kids, to raise them in a home that was cheery and fun. It was something neither you nor Harry had yourselves growing up, so you wanted something new. New traditions that you could start together.

You couldn't wait to share a lifetime of feeling cozy and cuddling festive pillows with Harry. You couldn't wait to watch movies and do puzzles and make pumpkin flavored baked goods with him for the rest of your life, or sew costumes for your kids because what they wanted couldn't be found at the party store. You wanted all of it, and you wanted it with him.

"I really do love this show, you know. I'd never heard of it, and now I can quote it," Harry mumbled. His eyes were trained on the show playing in front of him while his fingers traced patterns on your arm idly. Then, he looked down at you and smiled. "Our first real tradition, don't you think?"

Your heart squeezed with delight. You knew Harry loved you, that was never a doubt in your mind. But hearing him say that, knowing that he had lofty visions of the future too, made you hold him just a little bit tighter.

#harry styles #boyfriendrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[whiskersz]

Hellooo!!

Is it okay if i take a slot for Adam requests?

Headcanons of Adam and his goth partner!!:3

Thanks and byebyee

Hello and sorry for the small delay! Here's a couple headcanons, hope you enjoy ;D

Adam x Goth! Reader Headcanons

✦ With it being mainly a music-based subculture, Adam is not a stranger to Goth; being in a band and just having a passion for music, he keeps up with everything music related that people on Earth come up with, so he’s well informed on the genre and you basically don’t need to explain anything to him about it.

✦ He thinks it’s pretty neat that you’re Goth! Other than appreciating the music that you listen to and sometimes taking out his guitar to imitate the tunes, he thinks your style is, in his words, absolutely fucking rad. It’s rare to find somebody with such a good fashion sense in Heaven, to him the way other Angels dress is all the same, so it’s a breath of fresh air to have somebody around the house whose style somehow matches his.

✦ Yes, because when he’s not in his typical robe, Adam loves dressing a bit alternative, so he thinks you two match quite well. If you surprise him by wearing one of his band shirts while you’re also wearing your Goth makeup, he’s absolutely going to lose it and kiss you right then and there. He thinks you look so good and he’s not afraid of demonstrating it.

✦ He also loves the makeup; he thinks bold makeup looks are very cool and he’s quite surprisingly skilled with it as well, as he does his makeup before shows himself. He doesn’t take his mask off on the stage, but when he and the other band members celebrate they get to see his face and the look he came up with for the night. He’ll absolutely bring you along to those celebrations and brag about how good his partner looks, and how awesome you two look together!

✦ He tries to do your Goth makeup sometimes; he’s not the best at doing this on other people though, since he’s only used to doing it on himself, plus there’s some difference in the way you two apply your makeup of course so he’ll need some guidance and mutter some curse words under his breath... but it’s a fun and cute activity!

✦ You also get the privilege of doing his makeup the way you want it to. So you can technically make him Goth as well! Afterwards he’s definitely going to stare at himself in the mirror for too long and send a lot of pictures to Lute, telling her about how fucking awesome he looks!

✦ You two often dance to either his tunes or the ones of a song that you used to listen to back on Earth, while doing things around the house or simply to have some fun. He loves admiring you do it, he thinks you truly look like a vampire.

✦ The only thing he might find a little weird is if you used to engage in more particular activities that are common within the Goth community, like collecting bones or simply hanging out at the cemetery. But even then, he can’t really judge you as he is the leader of the Exorcists; he’s willing to accept you as his partner even though he might find some things about you quite unique or even odd.

text dividers credit : caeliangel <3

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #x reader #adam x reader #adam hazbin #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #goth reader