#like its okay i just have to make it through the next 50 years and then i get to go to mama

[ssahopelessly]

Gift Exchange

Synopsis: It’s the holidays at the BAU and that only means one thing - Secret Santa gift exchange.

Prompt: “Character only wanted to reveal that they are someone's Secret Santa at the BAU Christmas Party but they end up confessing a lot more than that.” from @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party challenge. {A.N. I did not see this prompt until AFTER I wrote this but close enough.}

Warnings: Spencer Reid x fem!reader, work-place crush, Secret Santa, Spencer is dumb and scared of his own feelings. It’s basic fluff. [let me know any I missed]

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterist

You had only been at the BAU for a few months when suddenly it was the end of November. Thankfully, there hadn’t been a case, so you were able to slip away for an extended weekend to relax and renew before the workload of the final month of the year. Derek had taken you under his wing in a way, and upon your December return, warned you that normally December was the unpredictable predictable month. “What does that even mean?” You had asked while walking into the roundtable room one Monday morning.

“Kid, the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is notoriously crime ridden. People lose their minds between financial stress and familial stress, and- look, all I’m saying is don’t make any solid plans for the month of December.” With Derek sitting two seats to Spencer's left, you squeezed yourself into the space between them, careful not to bother Spencer’s personal space as you brought yourself closer to the edge of the table.

“What about New Years?” You had tried to ask him, running the potential for an end of the year getaway in your head.

“Actually,” It was natural Spencer cut in, never able to miss a chance to share the information he knew, “the month of December mostly sees crimes revolving around material and monetary gain, crimes like theft and larceny increasing by 20% according to the National Crime Victimization Survey. The summer is when studies show the most violent and heinous crimes occur, specifically on the hotter days.” Derek rolled his eyes, beginning to flip through the small collected pile of paperwork he had carried into the room with him.

“Good morning Spencer.” You chose to greet him, already feeling the easy joy that came from being in his presence.

“Good morning.” It was an effort to not notice the way his voice shrunk back in on itself as your knee accidentally bumped him under the table, not quite catching the side glance Derek was giving you both either.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a running pool in the office. Just a small wager of $50, Derek had bet Emily that Spencer wouldn’t make a move before the New Year. Emily, ever confident in Spencer, insisted Spencer would make some gesture if the proper environment had presented itself. They were both coming up empty handed against the running clock as it had been a few months and neither you nor Spencer seemed to want to push anything further than coworkers, maybe friends.

What they had somehow missed though, were the small lunch runs you two would do for the team, or the few times Spencer had lended you his coat in the colder states, or the way he stayed late in the office with you to help with paperwork. They had missed the moments alone with Spencer that had meant everything to you. Well everything, if having a crush on your coworker wasn’t completely unprofessional and if you also weren’t always surrounded by the people who should be able to read that truth out of you.

The rest of the team had filed in, Penelope the last one to enter, just behind Emily and JJ though. “Okay my lovelies, before I present your next adventure, a small side quest!” Penelope put her things down on the table before picking up a small gift bag, rattling its contents around to your confusion. She clocked it before you could say anything and motioning her hand underneath the bag, motioned to everyone around the table. “Secret Santa!” There was a small groan through the room that was then met with a stern glare from Penelope herself before she returned to presenting the festivity. “I’ll pass the bag around so you all can draw your people. The gift limit is $25 so, no pressure.” She passed the bag to Aaron who, without much ceremony, pulled his drawing out and quickly read it as he passed the bag to Derek. Derek however, closed the bag at its opening and shook the contents before drawing his pick, trying to keep any emotions from his face as he passed it to you.

“What happens if we draw ourselves?” You asked as your hand slipped into the bag and felt around the slips of paper.

“Then put it back, draw again.” Penelope offered as she watched you try to make your drawing. And you tried not to think too much about how you wanted to draw Spencer’s name. Surely if you had asked, he could give you the odds of that right now. But also, the longer you took, the more attention you were drawing to yourself and it was just a work gift exchange anyway, you could always find another time to give him a gift later. Your fingertips graced over one slip for the final time and pinching it between, you drew it out of the bag. Leaning back in the chair you opened it to see one name singularly scribbled in her favourite glitter gel pen: Penelope.

“Not me!” You cheered with minimal enthusiasm, passing the bag to Spencer. There was a slight tremble to your hand when your touch graced his, but you tried to ignore it as you slipped your pick into your work folder, trying to push the small let down from your mind.

“Can I request no home made gifts this year?” Rossi had asked from his spot across from Aaron, leaned back in his chair as the bag continued around the table.

“Are you talking about the homemade socks I got you last year?” Penelope whispered out, small upset hanging off her jutted bottom lip.

“The socks I helped her make last year?” Spencer chimed in with reflected upset. Dave looked like he regretted his request but persisted.

“Kids, look, I love the thought and effort that went into them but they’re not really my style. They were ithcy and- not all of us can show up to crime scene with silly socks and be taken seriously.” Spencer smiled and shrugged at the allusion to his fashion sense. Eventually the bag made it around the table and Penelope delivered her case, with Hotch giving the room the standard wheels up in 30 order, everyone quickly dispersing to collect their things for this new case.

As everyone made their way out of the room, you tried to linger in an attempt to talk to Spencer. “Who’d you get?” You asked when it was just you two in the room, keeping your voice low so only he could hear.

“What?” He hadn’t given you his full attention, mind focused on getting his things into his satchel precisely how he wanted them, a task you had seen a few times before.

“For Secret Santa?”

“Oh. I- I can’t tell you that.” His attention still didn’t fall to you as he closed his bag and started making his way down the few stairs to his desk. You stayed hot on his heels, wanting to discuss secrets like you were a kid again. But he still didn’t pay you any attention, making himself busy with the things on his desk, moving what he could to the drawers as if that would help the clutter that always lingered on the surface. .

Purposefully putting yourself in his way, you took a seat in his desk chair, offering your best pleading eyes as you looked up at him, “Please?”

“It’s a secret! What if I told you and then you told them?” Spencer finally did look down to you, and for the first time you saw a bit of irritation in the way he was looking at you, but his voice still stayed low in the near whisper you had been maintaining.

“I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t.” You tried to reassure him.

“I know but…” You were distracted by the way he bit lip before shaking his head, hair falling from behind his ear. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll tell you who I got.” Was your offered bribe, to level the field of secrets. But Spencer was firm in his decision, shaking his head as he reached for his go-bag. “You’re no fun.” The words seemed to have no effect on him, a small soft smile still pulling at his lips.

“Sorry.” Letting your smile reflect his, you rolled your eyes before going back over to your desk to get ready for the jet, trying not to think about how the anticipation of who got you was going to consume your thoughts.

-

A month had come and gone and five days before Christmas, just as you had returned from what was thankfully a short case, the team managed to hold their little holiday party at Rossi’s. Your gift for Penelope had been something you picked out after a week of consideration and kept put away in a nice gift bag at the back of a drawer that should’ve been full of paperwork.

You weren’t supposed to profile each other, but as the days passed you grew only more curious about who had pulled your name. No one paid you extra attention, no blatant ‘what’s something you want for Christmas’ and in the same way, Spencer never said anything more about Secret Santa or who his pick was. You tried everything to get him to tell you, but he remained firm in his practice of keeping this one thing from you.

It was unanimously decided that Rossi would host the get together like he did all big team events, the team slowly trickling into the house after only having three hours between getting off the jet and agreeing to be there. Once everyone was there, and had their share of snacks from the provided buffet, Penelope gained control of the room like it was the roundtable room all over again. “Okay, this year, whoever has worked in the bureau the longest gets to go first.”

“Oh, wow. Thanks Garcia.” Dave didnt even have to move far, passing a small box to Aaron. You could’ve sworn a “Merry Christmas” was grumbled out, only evidence of so being the smile and laughter that pulled at Aarons mouth as he took the lid off the hand sized box.

“Wow, a gift card to Sutton Suits.” To his credit, Aaron did actually sound excited, which seemed to lighten Rossi for just a minute.

“Tell Oscar I sent you, and he’ll slip a quality cigar into your purchase.”

“Noted.” Their laughter died amongst them as Aaron then passed a red plaid gift wrapped object to Spencer, a sense of wonder settling over the room. Spencer was smiling though, now on the edge of his seat as his fingers slipped along the surface of the gift wrap, looking for a seam.

“You’re my Secret Santa?” He asked in a way that a laugh came out, gently tearing the paper away to reveal another book for Spencer’s collection.

“It’s a compilation of the ranked, most challenging published crossword puzzles from the last 35 years. I thought you’d enjoy.” Aaron explained to both Spencer and the team, your attention captured by Spencer as he pressed his thumb along the edge of the book, flipping through the many crossword puzzles that lined the pages. That one smile you’d grown fond of pulled at the corner of his mouth before he looked back at Aaron, full smile overtaking his face.

“Thank you, Hotch.”

The rest of the exchange went a little something like that. Derek got JJ some gift certificates to a new gym that was opening near her house, and JJ in turn got Derek a bulk bag of door hinges since “you don’t seem to know what those are” but then added he could use them in his house renovations. Penelope got Emily a scrapbook of photos full of Sergio and all the adventures she missed while in WITSEC and Emily got Dave a bottle of whiskey, which he thanked her for getting “the right kind” but then scolded her for spending too much on a gift.

By the time it was your turn, you had realised two things: Spencer hadn’t gone, and no one had given you a gift yet. And you surely hadn’t pulled your name but when you looked over to him, to suggest he go so you could confirm your new forming theory, he wouldn’t look at you. “Has Spencer gone yet?” You asked more so to Penelope, who had essentially made herself the leader of this whole exchange. The puzzled expression of her face held as she looked over to him, a small pout forming on her lips.

“No, no he has not.” The anxiety was creeping up the back of your neck, and just when you thought he had been caught, that you would get your answer, ever the gentleman he was.

“It’s okay, you can go.”

“But you’ve been at the BAU longer.”

“It’s fine. Go.” His voice softly encouraged you from where he sat, next to David’s Christmas tree. Pulling the bag from the side of your chair, you passed the glitter covered gift bag to Penelope, who beamed like she just won the lottery.

“You’re my Secret Santa?” She seemed genuinely excited, weighing the bag in her palm before tearing away at the tissue paper.

“Surprise!” You watched as her jaw fell, hand pulling out the first item. A pink bedazzled stapler, tiny pink rhinestones covering the whole surface.

“Shut up!”

“And there’s pink staples inside, just for you.” Your voice grew quieter as she still seemed ever so thrilled to be opening a present.

She pulled the matching tape dispenser out before finding the pink legal pad and new pink poof pen, one that lit up when the ink was pressed to write. “Where did you find all of this? My dreams?”

“I have my ways.” Putting everything back in the bag, she got up to give you a hug, pulling you tightly into her arms as everyone around you laughed and cheered. Their applause died down when she sat back down, all the attention falling to Spencer.

“Alright lover boy, your turn.” When you watched him then, you could see how nervous he had become, a slight tremble in his hand as he pulled the massive bag from its hiding spot, a bag that stood up to his knee height from the floor.

“You probably figured it out by now.” He whispered to you as he brought the bag closer.

“What’d you get her? Your heart?” Derek remarked from where he sat next to Emily, who was quick to elbow him in the side. Spencer must have registered his words as he had a jerk reaction to it like he briefly choked on something, but he was quick to return to his normal behavior, avoiding your eyes as he returned to his seat. From there though, he seemed more comfortable to make eye contact with you, lips curling in to lick them before trying to find his words again.

“What is it?” You beat him to it, but the smile that had formed on your lips seemed to put him at ease as he reflected it to you.

“Just open it.” Was his simple instruction as he leaned back in his seat, knee bouncing in subtle anticipation. Prying the sealed gift bag open, you were met with a familiar black fabric, though without the pilling that you were almost used to. With both hands you pulled it from the bag on the floor, up into the air to get a better look at it. It was a new black peacoat, your size and everything. Bringing it to your lap, you immediately looked to Spencer who was biting his lip, waiting for your response.

“Thank you!” Were the few words you were able to come up with, the simplicity seeming to make Spencer relax again

“Well come on, try it on for us!” Penelope called from her seat, reminding you that the whole team was watching this gesture in action. Standing, you unfasted the buttons and slipped your arms into the satin lining, already imagining how warm the cold weather cases were going to become.

You tried not to think of the first time Spencer let you borrow his jacket, how it was still warm from his own body heat. How the scents of his cologne and laundry detergent wafted around you like a scarf, forcing you to smell and think of him despite trying to focus on the crime scene you had been visiting that day. How the second and third cold weather case you had again asked for the jacket, but by the fourth and fifth case and so on he had offered it to you, always smiling when you slipped it on. “Borrowing your boyfriends jacket?” Derek had taunted you one day, in earshot of Spencer who failed to fight the blush on his cheeks. It was such a simple thing, but knowing you had your own black peacoat, and that of all people, Spencer, had been the one to get it for you meant everything.

Slipping a hand into a pocket, you felt a piece of paper, small and folded hiding within. Immediately looking back to Spencer, he just offered you a smile and a wink, patting the same spot on his cardigan as if he knew what you were about to say.

“Ooo la la, why have we seen this look on you before?” JJ asked more to the room than you specifically, and again you looked to Spencer, who seemed to be in his own thoughts, a small blush rising to his cheeks.

“Because she always borrows my jacket, I thought she should have one of her own.” There was something in the way he was looking at you, a gentle fondness that you had only ever seen from him a handful of times.

“And all for $25?” Emily added to the questioning. “Where did you get such a deal?”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Aaron tried to spare you both and reign in the team. “That is a nice coat though. Well done.” The blush had stayed on his cheeks and while you slipped the coat off your arms, you made sure to reach for the note before slipping the coat back into the bag.

“Now, we eat!” David cheered over the room, everyone vacating their spots to head towards the kitchen. You lingered in an effort to read the note, opening it in the palm of your hand.

“I need to talk to you.” Scribbled Spencer’s hand writing before signing off on it with a singular S.

“Are you coming?” His voice caught your attention, unaware he was beside you this whole time.

“Spencer, I-“

“Later.” He was quick to cut you off before motioning with an extended hand for you to walk in front of him towards the dining table.

-

After dinner, night started to fall noticeably over the Rossi Mansion. All conversations had lost their focus and everyones laughter was bordering into delirious bouts of nonsense. Before anyone could leave, Dave asked that people either make leftover plates to take home or help clean up the dishes into the kitchen so all he really needed to do was wash them (or load the dishwasher, whichever one happened first).

With everyone winding down and getting ready to say their farewells for the evening, you tried to get Spencer alone for just a second, yet he always seemed to find something to do. It wasn’t like he was avoiding you, he kept looking at you, smiling that same soft smile, but he also made an effort to not be alone in the same room as you. “Everything okay?” Derek had asked as you watched Spencer and Penelope clean up the wrappings and trash of the Secret Santa gift exchange.

“He’s avoiding me.”

“What?”

“He bought me this nice ass jacket and now he’s avoiding me.” You mused aloud, never bothering to actually look at Derek, still watching how Spencer would bend down to reach between the chairs for scraps of torn gift wrap. “Why would he do that?”

“Listen, we are profilers,” Derek started, now also watching Spencer, “but there’s no science for what goes on in his mind.”

“I-” Were you really about to air out your inner thoughts to Derek, surely the one person on the team who would give you advice if not for the cost of also holding those same thoughts over your head later? “I need to talk to him. But he’s…” Your words fell short as you watched Spencer look around the living room, confirming all the trash had been picked up. He started pulling on his sweater before he looked at you, saw Derek, and immediately turned to Penelope and Emily to offer his assistance in loading their cars. “Avoiding me.”

“It’s not you.”

“What?”

“He’s avoiding himself.”

“It’s Spencer. He-” You thought about how forward everything had been. The jacket, the note, the concept of the present itself. How one minute he was confident and charming and the next second he was unsure and slightly distant. “Why would he do that?”

“Say the first part of your sentence again.” A chuckle came from Derek’s lips as you thought it over: It’s Spencer.

“Why would he do that?” You repeated, hoping to maybe get a different answer from him.

Taking too much enjoyment in the obvious pining, Derek just laughed, “Back to the first answer: there’s no logic, rhyme or reason.”

“It’s Spencer.” You concluded aloud now for your own understanding, hoping everything would start to make sense.

“You got it.”

Spencer had come back inside just for Dave to start corralling everyone out of the house. “You don’t have to go home, but you cannot stay here.” He had said as everyone started to say their final goodbyes for the night. There were hugs all around, many variations of holiday wishes for the extended weekend everyone was about to embark on.

“Hey, can you give Spencer a ride home?” Emily had asked as she pulled away from her goodbye hug.

“Excuse me?” He called several feet away from where he had been on the fringes of a conversation between Aaron and JJ.

“Is everything okay?” You had asked her, looking her once over as if the answer was somewhere on her person.

“Yeah. Penelope ordered something to my address and I’m supposed to drop it off at her apartment after and, well I forgot. Besides, don’t want to keep Reid out past his bedtime.” She had tried to joke but he crossed over to your conversation now, slight upset over his face.

“I don’t have a bedtime!” He had tried to protest.

All to be met with a “yes you do,” from the members of the team that were still left. The pout in protest pulled his bottom lip out from under his top, and he finally turned to look at you. His attention shouldn’t have felt like a reward, but being treated with an imaginary ten foot pole in his attempt to keep distance wasn’t a fond feeling either.

You tried to offer him some semblance of comfort but he just turned on his heels to grab his bag from Emily’s car, sulking back over to your car. “Good luck.” Emily whispered to you before turning back to her car.

Climbing into your car, you noticed how Spencer was content to sit completely still and rigid in his seat, his knee bouncing as he brought his fingers to press to his lips.

“Are you okay?” It was an attempt at bursting the bubble that had formed around you two, keeping you in separate worlds from the other.

“I’m fine.” He huffed, answer too short and to the point.

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not.” You heard it then. The rise of an octave, the unbelievable deflection.

“You are.” He settled further into his seat as you drove out of the DC suburbs and closer to where your apartments were. “Did I do something wrong?” Your voice fell then, insecurity creeping in at the thought that maybe you had unknowingly done something to upset him.

“What?” His voice wasn’t high in pitch this time, but soft in tone as he snapped his attention to you. “Why would you think-”

“Well, you gave me a really nice gift and asked to speak to me later and then spent the rest of the evening avoiding me. So I thought maybe I just did something to offend you, so…”

“I’m not… offended.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I,” his head fell back, hitting the head rest before he blew out some air from his pressed lips, looking over to you to watch your reaction to his next words, “I like you.”

“Well yeah. I mean we’re friends, have been friends for quite some time now.”

“No, I mean… I like you, like you.”

“Oh?” A silence had settled as you both took a moment to take in his words, then hoping the other would say something to end the silence. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” It offered him the chance to laugh. Not like he was insulted, but more he thought it was funny that you weren’t sure if he was sure.

“I mean- I think I get it. But why did you spend the rest of the night avoiding me?”

“Because,” you came to a red light while you waited for his answer, looking to him to see he had already been watching you, “I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same.” He started to shy away from you again, eyes avoiding meeting yours no matter how long you thought you’d been staring at him.

“What if I do?” You reached for his hand in between your two seats, fingers gently securing through his, waiting to see if he would pull away. This grabbed his attention, hopeful eyes finally looking into yours now. “What if I do, like you, like you?”

“Then I would be thrilled.” It was sweet, the feeling of understanding, of mutual endearment for the other while he held your hand there, paying no mind to the red light above you both. But like a sign from above, it turned green, reflecting off the interior of the car.

There were so many things you wanted to commit to memory, in the same way he would without half the effort. You wanted to remember the way he looked at you, the way it felt to be under his gaze with this new meaning. You wanted to remember the way it felt to hold his hand, or the way it felt to have his thumbing small circles into your hand. The way you couldn’t fight the smile as it took over your lips, or the way he seemed to feel the same way. But most of all, you wanted to remember how it felt to be in that moment with him, mind swimming with possibilities of what this would mean for the future.

-

Tell me what you think here.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #oneshot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #mentioningmargins #christmas #holiday #secret santa #gift exchange #ssahopelessly #fem reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

[finelinevogue]

smile

summary - harry can’t go a show without calling you beforehand

warnings: fluff?! swearing, it’s based off that photo abov

word count: -1k

L.A. traffic had its reputation for being the worst traffic on the planet.

You’d drive 50 metres and it will have taken you 50 minutes. There was no traffic like it - other than maybe the M25 outside London.

Most people would avoid this traffic, trying to get to their destinations with as little car congestion as possible. However, Harry had other plans. Harry would happily sit for 50 minutes to travel 50 metres, because he happened to love car journeys.

They were his only trips alone. They were a few minutes, or a few hours, of solitary peace and he depended on them to keep him sane. The only other person he would be okay enough to share this time with was his fiancé; you.

Normally you’d be travelling sat next to him, his hand on your thigh whilst you both hum along to the shared playlist you’d both created. However, on this particular journey Harry found himself alone with you staring at him through the phone on Face Time.

You were away with work for a few days and out of town, meaning you couldn’t be there for some of Harry’s shows. However, that didn’t stop you both from talking to each other 24/7. Any spare moment you both had you’d be on FaceTime. If Harry went shopping he’d call you. If you went to the loo you’d call him. If you were reading in bed he’d want you to call so he could read with you.

FaceTime kept your relationship in the honeymoon phase - even 3 years after the honeymoon phase is supposedly over.

As Harry drove himself to the Forum he couldn’t help but be ecstatic when you answered first try on FaceTime.

“Heyyy, love.” He smiled at you, whilst stopping at a red light.

You were busy putting on your makeup for the day, so your phone was propped up on a vanity so Harry could see your head down to your waist. Your makeup was splayed out in front of you and you picked up some concealer to carry on with your routine.

“Hello, my favourite human.” You replied, cheerily grinning over your reply.

“Favourite human? Quite like the sound of that. Might even top fiancé.” Harry said, reaching to turn the radio off so he could only hear you. It would be rude of him to have anything drowning out the sound of your voice.

“Really?”

“Maybe not. Fiancé does just have a night ring to it, doesn’t it?” With one hand on the steering wheel, his other hand went to rub his fingers over the top of his lips where his moustache was growing in. As he did so, his engagement ring sat pretty and made you internally squeal at how you were the person attached to that ring.

“I think i’ll like husband better.” You answered honestly.

“It’s weird we’re both each others fiancés now, but when we get married you’ll be my wife and I’ll be your husband - like we’ll have different names for each other then.” Harry drove on green.

“You can still be my wife if you want. My little housewife.” You giggled at the thought.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me, in an apron, making dinner and doing the laundry.” He teased, unfortunately not catching your reaction since he was concentrating on the road.

“You do that already, H.” You laughed. “Are you off to the venue?”

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah.” Harry was momentarily distracted as he had to turn onto a busy junction. His UK driving was a lot easier than LA, because of how short and simple the roads were in London. New York driving wasn’t even worth thinking about.

“And how was therapy?” You moved on to fixing your eyebrows, being prepared to stop and listen carefully to Harry if needed be.

“Yeah, it was good. She helped me through some of that tour stuff I was worried about.”

“About being away from family for so long?” You double checked.

“Yeah, yeah. She was trying to explain that if I’m happy doing what i’m doing then that’s all my family should want for me. Just happiness.”

“She’s right H. Your mum will be perfectly fine, as long as she knows that you’re happy - and that you’ll call often.”

“I try.” He said honestly.

“I know you do. I mean, when you’re not calling me that is.” You laughed, trying to lighten the situation with a bit of silly humour.

Harry got stuck in another traffic jam, meaning he would be late for rehearsals but he didn’t care because it meant more time on the phone with you. His favourite moments were spent with you, so he’d take ever extra second he could just to make new and happy memories.

“Have you had breakfast already?” Harry asked, in awe of watching you put on your makeup.

Harry was lucky to find someone that cared more about other people and the world than colouring in their skin and buying fake boobs. So your makeup routine didn’t in fact take too long to run through.

“Not yet, no.”

“Well, please have something before you leave, alright?” Harry asked, always concerned for you and your health whenever he wasn’t around to take care of you. He liked being the one to make you breakfasts in the morning, so often when you were apart from each other he’d believe you weren’t eating anything as good as what he makes - which is true, but you do also eat still.

“Okay, yes. I promise.” You rolled your eyes at him but gave him a smile, knowing he only meant well. “Have you eaten?”

“I actually am on my way to have lunch with Jeff now. He wants to run through Grammy stuff.” Harry explained.

“How are you feeling about that? The Grammy noms, I mean. Tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, tomorrow, yeah. Um, I’m feeling alright y’know? Like, I thought I’d feel a lot more dependent on them, but I think after last year I’m still feeling that high. Any nom would be great, but if I don’t get any then I also know that it is a great album and there was only one person I wanted to impress with it anyways.”

“Oh yeah? Who?” You asked, knowing the reply already.

“You.”

You smiled and shook your head. He was too cheesy sometimes, but it was no lie, or secret, that Harry’s House had been solely made for you. It was a love letter from Harry to you and a declaration to the world that Harry Styles was the happiest he’s ever been.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles boyfriend blurb #boyfriend harry fluff #boyfriendrry #fic rec harry styles #fic rec finelinevogue #harry styles fic #harry styles grammys

[ccbunnv]

Could you do a valentines day with Bill? (Fem reader). Just anything really, fluff or smut. Maybe even like an angst that turns into a surprise. Idk just valentines day with Bill. An early thank you if you do it!

happy valentines! i spent it listening to nena n watching edits. hbu?

˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 bill x fem! reader fluff

impatiently tapping your finger against your wooden desk, you stare at your phone that has remained as still as a corpse since the time you woke up. there had been no notification, no calls, not even a text from your usually romantic boyfriend.

your heart brewed up a storm. what was he doing? for the past few years you've been with him, he'd always make sure you woke up during every valentine's with a kiss to the forehead, a breakfast in bed, and you both would end it with a nice dinner.

if he had work that day and had to leave early, he would send you a loving text, before picking you up with a bouquet of roses after finishing his work as fast as he could. maybe he was busy?

you left it at that possibility with a sigh. standing up, you walk over to the closet to pick out a shirt. maybe you'll go out and buy some gifts for him. he has been eyeing a certain bracelet, and you wanted to get it for him.

your hands glide from one article of clothing to the next, colours varying from leopard prints to Bill's black and white striped jacket that you borrowed and never returned. you decided on a black shirt, a denim mini skirt and a pair of black converse.

you checked yourself out in the mirror for a couple of minutes, before fluffing up your hairdo, putting on some makeup, and leaving your room. you find yourself walking through the downtown area you lived nearby, watching as couples left and right coddled their partners.

it only made you feel more single. even though you weren't.

you pick up your phone to check it again, to see that Bill has finally left you a text. excitedly, you click into it and read his message. but it wasn't a valentine's message. it was just, "good morning, schatz! sorry for not replying, i'm a bit busy today."

you text back, "it's alright, my love."

you follow the text with, "let's go to that cafe we love afterwards, how about that?"

no reply.

you heave a sigh, and stick your phone into your pocket again. you continue your stride down the area, the scent of roses filling your nostrils as you pass by flower shops that have big sale signs on their storefront windows.

you eventually stop at your favourite cafe, the one you frequent with Bill, and head over to the cashier to get yourself your usual drink. you look up and notice the chalkboard that normally has the day's drink of recommendation to one that says '50% off for every couple!'

great, you lost that 50% off.

"hello miss, how can I help you?" the cashier asks, and you're brought back to reality.

"hi, could I get a (favourite drink)?" you respond, bringing out your purse to pay.

"will that be all?" he questions, and you bring your eyes to the pastry display case beside the counter.

there's an array of sweets, including strawberry cheesecakes and puff pastries with strawberry and custard in the middle. white decorates its top and its surroundings, leading you to wonder how sweet the pastry is with the amount of powdered sugar.

"yeah." you reply, looking back at him.

"okay, your total is 5 bucks." he says, ringing up your total on the register.

you hand him a crisp 5 dollar and he hands you your receipt.

you grab your coffee once it was placed on the pick up counter. you make your way over to one of the unoccupied seats in the corner, watching as couples flirted with eachother at their tables.

the bell rings as another pair walks in and you lift your head to see who it is. your breath hitches upon seeing your favourite ravenette, with a girl hooked on his arm. they laugh and chide, and they place their orders at the cashier.

your heart breaks, your teeth digging into your lower lip until it bled. was this what Bill was so busy with? taking another girl out on a date?

you stand and grab your drink, walking out of the door of the cafe, unwilling to be in the same room as those two. tears prickled at your eyes, threatening to spill. how could this be? he was the most loyal man a girl could ask for.

you come to an automatic stop in front of a toy shop. god, this felt so childish, but there was a giant teddy bear with a pink lacey bow tied around its neck, simply resting there and holding a sign just like the one in the cafe.

you enter the toy shop and a sickening smell of sweet candy floods your entire being. you look around, noticing a lot of people inside, buying small teddy bears for their partners and contemplating on which card to get.

your eyes fixate on the large teddy bear, and you reach out to touch it. the material is soft, the curls of the plush felt warm on your skin, and upon closer inspection, the paws of the teddy bear were heart-shaped. how cute.

you feel slightly better at your encounter with the teddy, and an old lady approaches you soon. she asks, "miss, can I help you with anything?"

"er, yeah." you respond, "how much is the teddy bear?"

"it's 300 dollars." she says with a smile.

you look back down at your purse, and you find that you only have 55 bucks. you smile awkwardly and reply, "actually, never mind."

you leave the shop with a slight sigh, and you notice that the sky has gotten darker since you left yours and his apartment. you decide to return home, since there wasn't anything left for you to do.

you walk home, checking out each restaurant that you passed. the insides were lit with warm lighting, couples dressed in gorgeous dresses as they cheered their glasses of champagne, their hands locked together as they whisper sweet nothings in eachothers ears.

you bring out your phone again, hoping to see at least one message from Bill, but nada.

your mood sours, and you reluctantly return home. as you open the door, you're greeted by a familiar smell that definitely doesn't belong to you. it's some other girl's perfume. you look down, and notice a pair of dior heels that didn't belong to you.

your heart breaks and you simply shut the door, leaving the apartment complex again. the dam finally breaks and tears stream down your cheeks as you stride down the sidewalk. you rub your eyes, trying to remove all traces of you crying.

god, this is all so stupid.

if he wanted to cheat why do it so obviously?

the evening grows into night and the weather turns frigid. you find yourself in a friend's apartment, and she's making you a cup of hot chocolate. thank god she's free, otherwise you wouldn't know where to go and what to do.

she sighs as she hands you the cup of hot chocolate, "girl you look like you're straight out of jennifer's body."

you take the hot chocolate and sips it, unphased by her comment, "I know I do."

"do you really think he's cheating?" she asks, sitting in front of you, "I mean, it just seems so unlikely."

"he rants about you all day long." she says, "if anything, he's crazy for you. why would he cheat now?"

"how the hell am I supposed to know?" you hiccup, pressing your lips against the white cup again and drinking the sweet liquid of comfort.

"he's not on tour, but he doesn't talk to me, text me, call me, and I see him with some brunette on his arm and the whole damn apartment reeks of some other girl!" you sob, wiping the tears away forcefully.

"girl..." your friend sighs, before her phone buzzes and she picks it up.

she looks through it, and then says, "my date's coming over in half an hour. er, do you mind?"

wow, okay, hoes before bros, fine.

you simply nod, despite feeling a little bit betrayed. you stand, finish your hot chocolate, and leave her apartment complex. you drag your feet home and face the door to your apartment once more.

breathing in and out, you start making plans in your head. though you dread going in, you had nowhere else to go. god, if those two were going at it like rabbits you were going to light the bed on fire.

you open the door and notice...no dior heels. the scent of the perfume is much more faint now, and there's soft jazz coming from the living room. you slowly take your shoes off and slide into a pair of house slippers.

you trudge through, and stop suddenly at the romantic display in the living room. rose petals decorate the floors, there's takeout of your favourite restaurant on the coffee table, your favourite movie on the television and cozy blankets on the couch.

the giant teddy bear that you were eyeing earlier now sits at the side of your couch, smiling at you endearingly with a bouquet of your favourite flowers mixed with roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolates in its soft paws. you take another look at the coffee table and notice a perfume bottle on it.

it's the perfume you've wanted for so long. that's why it smelled so familiar. your heart throbs as you finally realise what he has been doing.

"schatz?" he calls out from behind.

you turn around to see him smiling at you, dressed in a black shirt and a pair of black and grey plaid pyjama pants.

you begin to sob. that takes him by surprise and he quickly goes over to bring you into his arms, "did I scare you, schatz?"

"oh my god, you're the worst!" you weep, "who the hell even was that girl?"

"you saw us?" he asks, looking shocked.

"of course I did! you both just went into our cafe and you think I wasn't there?" you snap, looking mad but mildly relieved.

"oh, sorry, mein liebling..." he whispers, kissing your forehead, "that was Georg's girlfriend. I asked her for help."

"then why were you both being touchy-feely?" you ask.

"that was just out of reflex, my love..." he says, kissing the sides of your face, "I won't touch any other girl like how I touch you, you know that."

he slowly picks his face up and kisses your lips, "meine schöne frau,"

"you know I love you and only you, right?" he murmurs, his arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close.

"you ignored me for the whole day..." you respond, sniffling a little.

"I know, it's my fault, but I'm here to pay you back, okay?" he whispers, kissing your neck, "mein schönes mädchen, all mine."

"mhm..." you watch as he pulls away and returns to kiss your lips.

his thumb presses against your cheek and wipes away the trail of mascara down your cheeks, "so pretty."

he kisses your cheek, and says, "you wanna get into something comfier?"

you nod, and he lets go of you. you run back into the room and begin removing your makeup, and then you change into a black slip with pink lace along its rims.

you leave the room after turning the lights off, and upon seeing you, he lets out a soft groan, "meine frau, you're begging me to fuck you in that."

you stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs a little. he walks over, pulling you into his arms as his hand reaches down to cup your butt, "come on, before the food gets cold."

you both cozy together on the couch and he presses start on the movie. the intro rolls in and he kisses you on the forehead, "happy valentine's, schön."

"happy valentine's." you whisper back.

𓆩♱𓆪

#tokio hotel #y2k #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz fluff #angst #valentines day

[delightfulcollectivetyphoon]

is it just me or does this pic radiate MAJOR predator/prey vibes? like he's just rawdoggin your soul. just me? okay

anyways, smutty thoughts below the cut

tw: loud concert, mentions of anxiety, mentions of wolves, mentions of smut, cuss words, kinda daddy issues?, fluffy angst (or angsty fluff)

a/n: so um yeah I meant for this to be like 10 sentences and I wrote a goddamn novel oopsies. and this ain't even the full thing.

You were sitting on the balcony all the way to the right of the entrance, at one of the smallest gigs you'd ever seen Metallica play. Wolf and Man was pounding into your ears, your senses blurring from the thrill of it all. You were watching Robert and Kirk run circles around each other, and you smiled at how silly these old men could be, like they were being kids again. You felt eyes burning into the side of your head and just 100 feet away was James, staring you down in a fierce manner. He didn't break eye contact as his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, he was hypnotizing. Your smile fell slowly as your lips parted, lost in his sultry glare. One of the spotlights fell on him so perfectly; you could see every beautiful outline and shadow of this masterfully sculpted man; his sweat covering his skin with a thin sheen. The massive screen behind the band was focused on him, and you saw up close how his eyes were clouded with something more than lust, a wolfish need, like he wanted to tear you apart, make you squeal, savor every inch of your skin. Something you had dreamed of ever since walking through the venue door and saw him in his vest and tank top. He smirked at you as he played the last few notes of the song and brought his tank to his mouth to wipe the sweat off his upper lip, the drops glittering his silver hair no more. The crowd screamed and clapped as the men gave their thank-yous and till-next-times.

-----------------------Backstage, a half hour later------------------------

The bag and ticket checks were brutal, and you started to wonder if this was a bad idea. Meeting Metallica seemed like a good idea in retrospect, yes, but now your anxiety was getting the best of you. Your palms were sweaty, your heart was racing, and your mouth was dry as the Sahara. The bottle of water sitting in your bag suddenly came back to mind as you snatched it from its pocket and tried to take off the cap. Your hand was shaking, making it difficult. You finally managed to get it off and sipped it for the next few minutes. Jesus Christ, was meeting 4 60-year-old men this fucking stressful? Some quick self-reflection brought you the idea that meeting Rob, Kirk, and Lars was exhilarating, but not stress-inducing. Meeting James was your main problem. It wasn't really a problem, he was just your favorite of the band, whether for his look or his playing, you didn't know, but you had chalked it up to a fair 50/50. This was a problem you were excited to have. Some parts of you were more excited than others, but you pushed that thought to the very recesses of your brain. If you had the scenario of screwing a man old enough to be your dad in the back of your head, it would definitely make its way into your conversation, which was more or less bound to get you a weird look and a premature "it was nice meeting you!" But God, his stare made you anxious in all the right ways and you just couldn't stop thinking of him staring into your soul as he chased you down, captured you, and made you his. You snapped out of your little thought bubble as you neared the platform. James was shaking the hand of a middle-aged man, someone you guessed was a father because of the 5-ish-year-old girl standing at his feet, holding onto the bottom of her father's shirt. James squatted down so he could be eye-level with the girl, and you instantly knew that he looked differently at others. He had reserved that stare just for you. Your brain ran rampant with the possibility that he might actually just want you, and that he wasn't generally so domineering and intense, but just when he saw you. In fact, his eyes returned to what you thought a 60-year-old's should look like, soft and sweet, teddy-bear-ish. He shook her tiny hand, and she shook it back and moved in for a hug. You couldn't blame her; he looked like just about the most huggable person there. He laughed as he closed her arms around her, telling the dad that it was okay after he tried to apologize and pull her away.

"Be good for your dad, okay," he asked, almost commanded as he straightened her jacket, ruffled from the embrace. He gave her one last smile as she nodded and walked off with her dad. The attendant ushered you forward as James picked up his water and took a sip at the same time you did. When he tilted his head back down, he saw you staring at his battle vest, or more importantly the tank top covering his chest and tummy. God, his tummy was hotter from up close. He caught you staring, and your faced burned with embarrassment.

"You like it?"

Your breath caught in your throat at his raspy tone.

"What?"

He laughed and set the bottle down on the table behind him. He gestured you to the chairs and table set up on the platform, probably decades-old wood that squeaked when you settled into it.

"My jacket, you like it? Saw you starin' at it, figured it interested you."

He was subtly fucking with you, letting you know he had caught you staring at his tummy, imagining it colliding with your back as he drove deeper and deeper into you, owning you. He had known that you were awe-struck by the idea ever since he saw you staring back during Wolf and Man. He had all the confirmation he needed.

"Oh, yeah, it's an awesome vest! I have one like it, just not as many patches. It's also a little less worn; I just bought it and started adding stuff about a week ago, actually."

He smiled and leaned back. The angle allowed his tank top to stretch tighter across his stomach; allowed his vest to cling to his shoulders, accentuating how broad he was. You involuntarily inhaled through your nose like it was the last sniff of oxygen you'd ever get. You'd tried your best not to gasp, that would for sure get his attention. He smirked.

"I know you're not here to talk about vests. I can tell something's on your mind. C'mon I have 3 kids, I can tell when something's wrong by poorly masked facial expressions," he joked, and you softened, comforted by his willingness to peer into your thoughts.

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thanks for reading, this is my first ever fic! i think i did fairly well, but feedback is appreciated! should i do a part 2?

#predator/prey #papa het #metallica #james hetfield #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #james hetfield x reader

[frierengf]

how will i know -- choso x reader

— you get dumped. its awful and it fucking hurts. you do your best to pick up the pieces of your heart on your own, but find that the trail of tiny red hot shards lead somewhere you wouldn’t expect.

wc : 9 065 [chp1 + epilouge] | ao3 [tags & notes]

-- chp1

”Can you just fuck off already?” The words have been ringing through your head since last night, echoing and repeating, ad infinitum. It’s exhausting. You barely slept a wink, and you’re sure your eyes are both puffy and dark. You couldn’t find it in yourself to go to your classes, having stayed in your bed for most of the day. Your phone is laying next to you, screen open on your unread texts to him, music playing quietly. A small ping interrupts the music, and you sluggishly reach for your phone, holding it to your face. — From : Choso :-) <- Hey, just so you know, Yuuji is coming over later! Is there anything you want me to get from the grocery store? To : Choso :-) -> ah cool -> some ice cream maybe? chocolate if they have it, but any kind is fine. a bottle of coke too please :] i think were almost out of garlic but i can get actual groceries some time later this week From : Choso :-) <;- Okay! I’ll be home in about an hour :-) — It was in fact, not ah cool. While you’ve lived with Choso for almost a year now, and you’ve met his younger brother Yuuji a handful of times, you’d rather die than be seen by either of them in your current state. It’s not that your room is messy, because it isn’t. Almost everything is as you left it when you went out to see him yesterday, except your purse hanging off your desk chair. Besides, you seriously doubt Choso or Yuuji would even see your room, so it’s more yourself that you’re worried about. You feel… disgusting? Like a mess? Revolting? Any adjective with a negative connotation, really. In reality, you probably look fine. Decent. Acceptable. But in your twisted illusion, you can feel the words you vomited out sticking to your body, the tears you shed ingrained into your cheeks, the burning oil of his words spilled on you, tainting your entire existance. It’s not that deep, the snarky voice in your head comments. It was just a lame college relationship, and it was bound to end sooner or later. But it wasn’t just a lame college relationship. You’d been together for three years. Even if he didn’t love you, or even like you anymore, aren’t you owed more than filth, thrown in your face? You sit on your bed, frozen in thought, playing with your bracelet. It feels cold between your finger tips, and you sigh. You need to shower, brush your teeth, remove your makeup, put on normal clothes. Maybe make your bed and do the dishes for good measure. Standing up, you shed your clothes from last night, and grab a towel from your closet. Shower first, everything else later. As you stand at the edge of the shower, waiting for the water to heat up, you plan the coming hour in your head. You have approximatively 50 minutes until Choso is home, and probably an extra 20 until Yuuji arrives. Shower for 30, plenty of time to wallow in self pity, and actually clean yourself up. 2 minutes to brush your teeth, 10 to do an indepth facial cleanse. 8 minutes to pick an outfit that says I am fine. 20 minutes to help Choso unpack groceries, and then do the dishes like the helpful roommate you are. After that, you can retreat to your room to do whatever you want. A perfect plan. After the water has heated up, you stand under the spray, cleansing yourself. You’d like to think you don’t know why you have this inane need to seem well put together in front of your roommate and his 15 year old brother, both of which you’re probably never going to see again after college, but in reality, you know the cause down to a T. It’s an awful habit, there’s no denying it. You’re unsure where it stems from, all you know is that you don’t like it. Self worth is hard to have and even harder to find, you think. So, you simply seek it from wherever possible. Validation, affirmation, appreciation. From your mom, your sisters, your teachers, your friends, strangers on the strees, or even the afformentioned roommate and his brother. It definetly doesn’t help to have been dumped the night before, but alas, there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do about that.

Walking away with a scoff, leaving you to pay for the drinks, ignoring your calls and texts. He doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you anymore. It fucking hurts, of course it does, but what are you supposed to do about it? It’s not like he will appear out of the blue and give you actual closure, so all you can do is try to move on yourself. As you step out of the shower, you wipe the steam off of the mirror. You feel clean. Or at least cleaner. While you brush your teeth, you glance at the small clock that’s standing on the shelf by the door. 5 minutes ahead of schedule. You nod at yourself in the fogged up mirror. I can do this. Can you? I can. I’ve been through worse. Have you? You spit. Spit out the toothpaste, spit at the snide voice in your head, spit at the image of him. You have been through worse, and as cliché and corny as it sounds, you are a strong, independant woman. You wash your face. Cleanse the tears, cleanse the touches, caresses and kisses he had given you, before throwing it all back at you, like both you and the affection he had once shown you was dirt, not even worthy of being stepped on. You resent him. Despise him. It’s unfair, you think, as you walk back to your room. How come he gets to keep living normally, while you don’t? How come you have to crawl through hell and back, and he gets to swagger off into the night, never to be seen again? It’s unhealthy, you think, you know. The smothering, the pushing down of your emotions, the twisted mess of sadness turning into rage. It’s bound to come back and bite you in the ass. You flick through your closet. A tank top and jeans. Normal. Fine. You pull on your clothes, before standing in front of your mirror. Acceptable. Charming maybe? Friendly. Normal girl, who didn’t go through the second worst heartbreak of her life last night. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you frown. You think Choso might know what happened last night. He wasn’t friendly with him exactly, but they’d met about as many times as you’ve met Yuuji. He most likely did not text your roommate that you’d just gotten dumped, but Choso knew of his existance. Your shoes have been in the entryway since you came home last night, but even if he didn’t notice that, it’s an undeniable fact that he heard you sobbing as you came home, sobbing as you laid in bed, and sobbing as he left for class.

You know Choso heard you, because you’ve heard him. Talking to himself while he works on his art projects, the muted voices from a show or movie, discussions with friends. You’ve heard it all, and your crying was definetly louder than all of those, probably combined. Besides, if your roommate leaves home, dressed up and excited to meet her boyfriend, and comes home later, hysterically sobbing and alone, what else could’ve happened? If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck. Duck in question being a miserable and heartbroken 20-something. Your frown has grown in to a scowl. Angry, bitter, hurt. Because you are. As much as you try to convince yourself that you’re fine, you’re not. As much as you want to move on right away, quicker than he can, you can’t. The apartment door opens, and you startle slightly. ”I’m home.” Chosos voice almost echoes through the silent apartment, and you rush out to the common area. ”Welcome home.” His gaze flicks up to you, and you smile slightly, nearly breathless. ”Hi,” he says, breaking eye contact to focus on untying his shoes. ”Hey,” you reply, eyes still focused on him. ”Thanks for getting groceries. I’ll put them away. I can do the dishes too.” Choso looks back up at you from the small bench he’s sitting on. He’s frowning, just slightly. ”Are you okay?” Your eyes widen, and you let out a tense laugh. ”Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” His frown grows, almost turning… pitiful? Compassionate? You don’t know. ”It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, especially with me, but pretending everything is fine won’t do you any good.” You flinch. Read like a book. ”Well, sitting around in my room and crying won’t do me any good either,” you mutter, reaching for the bag. You hear him sigh. ”It might. Good release of emotion and all that.” ”I don’t know if you heard, but I did plenty of emotion releasing last night. I think I’ve probably dried up for the coming year, so.” You walk in to the kitchen, starting to unpack the bag onto the counter. Choso trails after you. ”I heard. I’m sorry for not coming to check on you, wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.” ”It’s fine,” you say, putting the groceries away. ”Probably for the best. Would’ve been a real pain in your ass.” ”I wouldn’t have minded,” Choso mumbles from where he’s leaning against the counter.

You look at him. Try to read him like he read you. He looks earnest. Truthful. Caring. His gaze is warm, but it still makes you shiver. It’s not that he’s making you uncomfortable. If anything, he’s making you too comfortable. You’re not blind. Choso is handsome. Silky dark hair, deep brown eyes that seem to shine violet when the sun hits them just so, charming scar across his nose. Tall, strong, and kind. He’s entrancing, and it makes a clump settle in your throat. He had never liked Choso, but you’d always just assumed it was a childlike jealousy, born from having his girlfriend live with another man. Maybe it was more than that. You feel too comfortable, too soon. It’s staggering. You turn your head, staring out at the small balcony, and the city that lies beyond. ”I… it’s,” you sigh. ”It’s complicated Choso. There are too many emotions and-” ”I know.” ”I don’t want to be a bother to you. I can barely handle it so-” ”Then let me help you.” You look back at him. His eyebrows are furrowed. He looks sad. Sad because you are, not because he feels what you feel. You try to swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat. ”Let me help you,” he repeats. ”Just because it’s hard, or complicated, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to rely on other people.” ”It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, forcing the words from your throat. ”All of it. The way it happened, the way I reacted, the way I hadn’t noticed anything going wrong.” You blink away the tears that are gathering in your eyes. ”I don’t want your help, because I’m fucking humiliated Choso. It’s something I should get over on my own.” You see his throat bob up and down as he swallows, taking in your words. You tense, turning to the kitchen sink. ”I’ll do the dishes, then I’ll stay in my room so you and Yuuji can do whatever.” ”Okay.” You wait for the water to get hot. He isn’t leaving. You swallow. A stray tear runs down your cheek. ”I’m sorry,” you mumble, barely audible over the running water. ”You don’t have to be,” he says as he walks past you, patting your arm. ”Still.”

=========

It’s late. Early? You don’t know. The darkness outside your window has been replaced by a dull, grey light, and you haven’t slept. You haven’t really tried either. The exhaustion and sadness roots down into your very bones, so you don’t see a point in sleeping to get rid of it. You curl in to your sheets. A warmth covers you, but it’s not the kind of warmth you want, the kind you crave. Your phone pings and you pull it towards you, squinting at the screen. It’s 5 o’clock, and you have a text notification. — From : Choso :-) <- Are you going to class today? To : Choso :-) -> idk -> i should but -> eh From : Choso :-)<- Do you wanna join me for breakfast now then? I made enough for either a lunchbox or for now — You let out a breath, dropping your phone back to the mattress. You look up at the ceiling. You think you’ve seen it more than anything or anyone else this week. You get up. The floor is cold when you place your feet down. The air is cold when you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Chosos gaze is warm when he meets your eyes from the dinnertable. ”G’morning,” you mumble. ”Morning,” he says. You sit down opposite him, and he pushes a bowl of chazuke towards you. ”Thanks,” you say. He hums.

You fill up your spoon. Rice, tea, fish. Warmth. Still the wrong kind, but better than the selfmade one of your bed.

”Why’re you up so early?” you ask, muffled by the food in your mouth. He’s seen you do worse, you think. ”Have to be at the studio all day today. Working on an exam piece,” he replies, mumbled around the rim of his tea cup. You hum.

It’s not awkward, it’s just kind of tense. You’re unsure on how to fix it. You don’t think Choso and you are friends exactly. Maybe just good roommates.

He makes dinner, you do the dishes. He’s busy working on a project, you bring him food and snacks at his desk. You get dumped, and he does his absolute best to do whatever he can for you.

Whatever you allow him to do for you.

Which hasn’t exactly been a lot. It’s not like he hasn’t offered. He has, and maybe that’s the problem. It makes you feel weird. A nervous clump in your chest. Stinging your eyes. A tiny spark of warmth in your heart, that you don’t want to permit yourself to think about.

It’s too early, too soon, and he’s too kind, too caring. It scares you. You feel guilty. It’s only been a bit more than a week since he broke up with you.

You want to move on, but it feels wrong. You don’t know why. You don’t want to move on, but that feels wrong too. It’s not like he waited to move on. Your younger sister had told you when you spoke over the phone the other day.

Making out with someone at a party, going home with them, eating lunch with them the following day. Not exactly the actions of someone who feels wrong or guilty.

Maybe you feel guilty because of the circumstances. Maybe it feels like you’d be proving him right. He hadn’t said anything about your relationship with Choso during his tangent, but you feel like you could tell he wanted to.

You scrape up the last of your bowl of chazuke, before pushing it away and resting against the table. You look up at him. His hair is down, held back by a hairband, and you think it makes your heart flutter. You look away, scolding yourself.

”Can I come with you to the studio today?” you ask, and he hums. ”If you want to, yeah,” he says, and you curse him for sounding so warm. You sigh.

”You’re too nice to me Choso.” ”I’m not.”

You stay quiet. You don’t want to argue, and you know he isn’t going to change his mind.

”Are you driving?” ”Was planning to. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad, so.” ”Okay.” ”I was gonna leave in just a bit? If that works for you.” ”Sounds good.”

You look at him again. He looks at you. You don’t know if he ever looked away. It makes a sickly warmth spread through your body, and you don’t know what to do about it. You get up and gather the dishes on the table in to a neat little pile, and carry it to the kitchen sink. Choso stays at the table, but you think you feel his gaze sticking to you, following you. ”I’ll do them when we get home,” you say. ”Okay,” he replies. You turn to look at him. He’s smiling at you, slight but warm, and you think you feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. ”I’ll get my stuff and then we can leave,” he says as he stands up, before walking to his room. ”Okay,” you reply, following him with your gaze until he’s out of sight. You go back to your own room and change your sweatpants to a pair of jeans, and your hoodie for a t-shirt and flannel. You throw your laptop and notebook into a bag, just in case you find the motivation catch up on your work during the day. A knock. ”You ready?” he calls out, and you meet the gaze of the girl in the mirror. She doesn’t really look like you. Or maybe she does. You don’t really remember, if you’re being honest. She looks normal and you feel like you don’t. ”Yeah,” you reply as you break the eye contact you had with the mirror. Choso is already in the entryway by the time you leave your room, sitting on the bench and pulling on his shoes. You look at him for a bit. He’s hunched over, tying his shoes, and it makes his hair fall down to cover his face from your eyes. Parts of him peek through the silky curtain. His nose, his eyes, his lips. A spark lights up in your chest, but you trample it down as soon as it appears. You can’t. Shouldn’t. Not yet. You slip your feet into a pair of sandals. Choso looks up at you. You look down at him. ”Forecast said it was gonna rain.” ”Just park close to the entrance then.”

He chuckles. The spark you’re pressing down turns to an ember. You try to press it down further. You don’t know if it’s working. The car ride is quiet. Morning news prattle lightly on the radio. Choso drives and you sit next to him. You rest your head against the window. There isn’t much to talk about. You haven’t left the apartment for more than 5 minutes a day the past week, and Choso has been working on his project that he’s been deliberately vauge about since he started it a month ago. The morning news transition into an old rock station. You reach over and turn it up, just a bit. Choso lets out a short hum, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Neither of you speak. There’s no need to. Choso pulls up to the university parking lot, taking the spot closest to the gates, just like you asked him to. You snort, and you think you see a small smile grow on his face. You don’t realize that this was the first time you’d laughed since everything happened. The two of you reach the art departments studio building just as rain starts to fall. He walks to his shared studio and you follow behind. He shows you to his desk and workspace before pulling out the desk chair and urging you to sit down. The stupid ember in your heart keeps sparkling, no matter what you do. You sit down, hoping that Choso can’t tell how quickly you’re falling. As you pull out your phone you hear the studio door open and close before the sound of footsteps stop near where you sit. ”Who’s this?” You look up at the source of the voice, and instantly regret it. A man stands above you with sickening grin on his face. You think you recognize him, though only from rumours around campus. He smiles down at you, and a shiver runs down your spine. ”My roommate,” Choso says from his workspace behind you, and the mans grin widens. You tense. ”Brought her here as a model, did you? Maybe we can share!” The undertone of his voice makes bile rise in your throat. Dehumanizing, like you’re nothing but filth, only worthy of being used, never worthy of being loved. It sounds like *him*, and it makes your eyes sting. You clench your jaw and swallow, trying to think of something, anything, to say. ”She’s kind of been having a shit time, so I brought her here ’cuz she wanted to come. You being a piece of shit and pestering her for no reason sure isn’t helping. Leave her alone.” ”Aw come on Choso, take a chill pill buddy!”

The smile on his face as he speaks is almost nauseating, and you curl in to yourself, doing anything you can to gain an illusion of being out of his sight. ”Are you fucking incapable of listening to people or something? Fuck off.” ”Woah, alright! Take it easy. All yours man.” The man turns around and swaggers out of the studio, and you’re unsure if he even is in the same class as Choso. ”Sorry about him. Loser who only comes to the studio once every month to be annoying,” Choso mumbles as he leans down to grab his materials from his bag ”Oh. Uh… yeah. No need to be sorry,” you reply quietly. He’s close. If he turned his head towards you, you’d be close enough to count his eyelashes. Your stupid, stupid heart is still relentlessly aflame. You can smell his aggrevating eucalyptus shampoo from the bottle that falls down every time you shower. You can see the scrunched tip of his nose as he mutters to himself, digging deeper into his bag in search for something. You can feel his proximity to you. His body heat, his knee bumping against your shin, his presence. It’s overwhelming. And then it’s gone, just like that. Choso stands up and walks back to his workspace and you turn to lay down on his desk, trying to calm your flickering heart. The day continues. At one point you doze off, head resting against the half empty pages of your notebook. You startle awake when Choso places a soda bottle and a bag of chips near your head. ”Lunch,” he says before taking a bite of a protein bar. You hum and stretch in your seat. ”Thanks. Any equally fantastical dinner plans?” you ask, joking. You don’t need him to buy you dinner. ”Might get something from the cafeteria before we leave if that’s cool with you?” ”Oh. Sure,” you reply. He’s buying you dinner. Why is he buying me dinner? Choso gets back to his work, and you attempt to do the same. It makes your flaming little heart burn in a way that stings, the way he so easily, so nonchalantly, takes care of you in a way that makes you fall more and more every single time. It reminds you of him, at the very start of it all, back in your tiny countryside high school. Kindness that is shown in a way that makes you feel special. Kindness that is shown in a way that makes you feel loved. You don’t really get any work done at all. Choso buys you dinner. Because of course he does. It’s nothing fancy at all, just a bowl of gyudon, but he still bought dinner for you. The question of why still bounces around in your head, but you ignore it. The gyudon is good. Maybe you should eat at the cafeteria more often.

It’s a rather quick and quiet affair, dinner. The two of you eat in silence, enjoying but not savouring. It’s late after all. The road is dark and empty as Choso drives the two of you home. A soft jazz tune is playing quietly on the radio, and you pick at your nails. ”You know you don’t have to do,” — you wave your hands in front of you — ”all this, right?” ”This?” Choso questions, mimicking your hand movements slightly above the steering wheel. You clench your jaw. ”Bringing me to your studio ’cuz it’s the first time I’ve been outside in a week. Buying and cooking food for me. Defending me from your weirdo classmates. I don’t know. You don’t have to be so kind to me Choso.” ”I know I don’t have to. I want to.” His answer makes you sigh, and you turn to look out of the window. A slight drizzle has covered the city and you can’t really see further than a meter outside of the car, but you welcome the simulated feeling of isolation and calm. ”I don’t understand why,” you mumble. ”I don’t get it and it makes me feel weird.” ”Good weird or bad weird?” ”I don’t know. Both?” You pause. ”I’m sorry.” ”You don’t have to be. I’m sorry too.” You see his reflection in the car window. A small confounded frown has taken over his face, and you cringe. At yourself. At how this is exactly what you were worried was going to happen, but you let it happen anyways. ”I care about you. I don’t know exactly what happened but I know that for you to react how you did, it had to be awful. No one deserves that.” His words make your lips tremble, and you turn to look at him. He meets your gaze, if only for a second, before looking back at the road. ”It just pisses me off. You deserve someone who takes care of you, and if that asshole isn’t gonna do it, why don’t I?” You flinch. Flinch at the mention of him, flinch at the way the ember in your chest bursts into a raging bonfire. You flinch at the way Choso says it so nonchalantly, as if he doesn’t realize the way it makes you feel. ”You uh… want to take care of me?” you ask hesitantly. ”Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the easiest question in the world. ”Oh,” you breathe out. ”Yeah,” he repeats.

You look at him again. Try to read him again. He looks sure. Calm. Decisive. Your heart flutters, and you swallow. ”Take care of me how?” you ask quietly, almost scared of hearing the answer. ”Any way you’ll let me,” he says softly, and you frown. ”No, Choso. Don’t… don’t be like that. Please. Just tell me for real.” His throat bobs, and he tenses up. The city lights illuminate his face, blue and orange shining across his cheeks. ”I know you’re just trying to be careful, but it’s unfair Choso. I can’t read your mind. Just be honest with me, please.” ”I meant what I said. However you let me,” he forces out. You sigh. ”Choso,” you mutter. His knuckles whiten against the steering wheel. The car stops abruptly, and you startle, looking out of the window. You’re in your apartment buildings parking garage, and before you can even turn back to look at him again, you hear the car door slam shut. You look to the driver seat. Empty, keys still in the ignition. You look to the back seat. Both yours and Chosos bag rest in the middle, against each other. You grumble to yourself before grabbing the bags and the keys, getting out and locking the car behind you. As you walk in to the stairwell, you hear his footsteps a few floors above you. ”You forgot your bag dumbass!” you yell, and the footsteps stop. As you start walking up, you hear him come down to meet you. He’s standing at the top of the stairs. You look up at him. His eyes are wide, expression unsure. You walk up and past him, slamming his bag into his chest. ”Don’t be a fucking asshole Choso. It’s embarrassing. For both of us.” He sputters, and you keep walking. He follows, two steps at a time, before he catches up to you and grabs your arm. You stop. ”I’m sorry,” he says. ”Okay,” you reply. You pull your arm from his grip. He lets go. ”I’m sorry,” he says again. ”Okay,” you reply again. You keep walking. He follows. He stands behind you as you unlock the door. He sits down on the bench as you slip off your sandals. ”Good night,” you say. He doesn’t reply.

=========

You go to class the next day. If only to make it easier to avoid Choso. A childish solution, you’re sure, but it feels warranted. It might not have been awkward before, but it most definetly is now. You sit on the bus, going home, cramped between the window and an older woman with a kid in her lap. Your text notification sounds out through your headphones, and you shuffle your phone out of your bag, doing your best to not disturb anyone around you. — From : Choso :-) &lt;- Are you home? — You purse your lips and frown down at the screen. Frown at the stupid little emoji he put there on his own as he entered his number into your contact list. Frown at his bluntness. Frown at how the bonfire inside you is still raging, despite Chosos behaviour last night. — To : Choso :-) -> on the bus -> home in maybe 15 From : Choso :-) <- Okay <- Can you let Yuuji in when you’re home? He was going to come over but something came up and I have to stay late at the studio. To : Choso :-) -> okay will do — You debate adding an emoji of some kind, but ultimately decide against it, before shoving your phone back into your bag. If Choso is going to be weird and awkward, you might as well do the same. A small tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to the woman next to you, plucking your headphone from your ear. ”Hm?” She smiles, warm and knowing. You raise your eyebrows. ”It’s better to talk about it, you know?” she says. Your eyes widen. ”Excuse me?” ”Your boyfriend! Fights never get resolved by being ignored.” You sputter. ”He’s not- It’s- We aren’t fighting. And he’s my roommate, not my boyfriend,” you grumble. The lady just laughs. ”All right, all right. My point still stands,” she says, before putting the child in her lap down on their feet and standing up herself. ”You need to be honest with yourself too, young girl.”

Her parting words are soft, and you sink into your seat as she walks away.

As you tredge up the final steps to your apartment you spot Yuuji sitting by the door. You cringe. It’s definetly been over a year since the floors were cleaned. And you’ve also never been any semblance of alone with Yuuji. You don’t really know how to deal with teenage boys.

You take off your headphones as you walk up to him. Yuuji looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps and shoots up to stand as he realizes it’s you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds.

”Hi,” you say. ”Hey!” he exclaims. ”Uh, Choso told you what’s up right?”

You almost laugh. Because he did, but he also very much didn’t.

”Yeah,” is what you end up saying. You don’t need to vent about your issues to someone who views the person you’re having issues with as the best brother in the world.

”Cool,” Yuuji says, and silence takes over again. You fiddle with the strap of your bag and Yuuji scuffs his shoes against the floor.

”Do you- Um, we can go to the store. If you want anything to eat, or something. While you wait,” you say.

How the hell do you even talk to people? ”Oh! Uh, I don’t have any money though.” ”I’ll pay.” ”Ah okay then!”

You nod and Yuuji smiles. You try to smile back but it feels tense and weird. You hope he doesn’t question it.

”There’s a corner store just a minute away, they have snacks and food and stuff. We…”

You pause. We. As if you and Choso are a unit. A pair. A couple.

”There is some stuff at home but I don’t mind treating you to whatever,” you say. ”Cool,” he says again.

You nod, and start walking back down the stairs. Yuuji follows behind. You clench the strap of your bag tightly the entire walk.

Why are you doing this? You could’ve easily just let him in and then retreated to your own room and left him to watch TV or hang out in Chosos room.

You’re not friends with Yuuji. Barely even aquaintainces, and definetly not ”bring him to the corner store” close. You feel dumb. Weird.

As the two of you walk into the store, Yuuji speaks up.

”Y’got a spending limit? ”Uh. Don’t get more than you’d pay for with your own money, I guess?” you reply. ”Sweet!”

He takes off between the aisles, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake. You follow behind, meandering around the store. After a minute or two Yuuji appears before you, a ramen cup, a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in his hands. ”Is this okay?” he asks. ”Yeah. I’ll grab something too, hold on.” You walk to the refrigerators and pick out an onigiri and a soda bottle. ”Y’didn’t eat lunch?” Yuuji asks, hovering over your shoulder. ”Uh. I did, just didn’t want you to feel awkward. Or whatever,” you mumble as you turn to walk to the register. ”Oh, cool.” The two of you put down your stuff on the register desk and you give a small smile to the cashier. Yuuji stands behind you, looking around at the stuff behind the register. ”What a nice sister you have!” the cashier says to Yuuji as you tap your card against the reader. Twice in a day now. That you’ve been mistaken for having some actual connection to Choso. It didn’t use to happen this often did it? Do you carry yourself differently after all that’s happened? ”Ah, she’s just my brothers roommate,” Yuuji replies. You huff out a quiet laugh. Yeah. Just Chosos roommate. The cashier hums. You think you see a knowing glint in his eyes. You sink into the collar of your jacket as you grab your things, before moving to the eating area of the store. As Yuuji heats up his cup noodles, you get started on your onigiri. You had actually forgone lunch, solely because you know that Choso often eats in the campus cafeteria. Once again, childish, and once again, would be weird to mention to your current company. ”Just didn’t want you to feel awkward.” A lame excuse if there ever was one, but you trust that Yuuji and yourself aren’t close enough for him to question you. The two of you eat. You attempt some smalltalk. You ask him about school. Yuuji tells you about his exams and exchange events. You nod along. He asks you about school. You tell him about your major. He seems interested, but you can’t really tell if he’s just trying to be polite. The two of you leave the store and begin the short walk back. ”You’re smart right?”

The question comes almost out of nowhere and you stop in your tracks before turning to look at Yuuji. ”Uh, I guess?” you say. You don’t know what Yuuji classifies as smart. ”Okay so like, if I do my homework while waiting for Choso would you help me if I get stuck?” he asks, if only slightly awkwardly. ”Oh. Uh, yeah sure. Can’t promise I’ll be that helpful but I can try.” When you get home the two of you sit down at the dinner table, you with your laptop and Yuuji with his schoolbooks. He asks you a question now and then, and you help to the best of your ability. Occasionally you read him a passage of your essay to see if it flows how you hope it does, and he laughs at how little he understands. You smile, just slightly. Yuuji is nice. Choso comes home eventually. The rusty orange of the sunset shines through the balcony windows. Yuuji springs up from his seat and hugs his brother before heading to the couch and turning on the TV. Choso is about to go over to join him before he stops and turns to you. ”Thanks, for uh,” Choso says, gesturing behind him at Yuuji who’s busy setting up the video game they’re going to play, ”keeping him company.” ”Yeah, no problem,” you reply. ”He’s a good kid.” Something takes over Chosos face when the words leave your lips. You’re still not great at reading him. Sentimentality maybe? Melancholy? Satisfaction or pride? Maybe all of them at the same time. ”Yeah. He is.”

=========

It’s been a week. Things are more or less back to normal. Whatever normal means. The cool wind plays across your face as you look down at the street below. Choso joined you on the balcony about five minutes ago. Something in your head tells you he wants to say something. Something important. So you stay silent. You haven’t looked at him since he opened the door and quietly asked if it was okay for him to be here. You had turned your gaze back to the city before nodding. You feel him next to you, prescence overwhelming, your arms touching, just slightly. You interlock your own fingers, picking at your nails. You hear him swallow, preparing to speak, and you lean your head further over the railing. ”I think I fell in love with you before you even moved in here,” Choso says. You swallow and chew on your lip, still unable to raise your gaze from your own entwined hands. ”I saw you. At the party after the opening week. You… um, you were with him, but I just… couldn’t tear my eyes off of you. You looked so pretty and so happy and I just couldn’t stop staring at you. Was surprised neither of you noticed.” You finally look at him. He’s leaning his back against the balcony railing, face tilted up against the stars. Chosos ears are red and it makes heat rise to your cheeks. You look back down at the city streets below. ”He went off to get new drinks or something and,” he swallows. ”You looked at me. And then you smiled. I don’t even think it was for more than a second, but you looked me in the eyes and smiled.” You feel his gaze shift to you. ”I think I’ve been in love with you since then.” You look at him. The stars are reflecting in his eyes. You almost feel nauseous from the intense affection in your chest. ”That’s like a year and a half ago Choso,” you mumble. ”Yeah.” You let out a breath before turning back to the city. ”Um, I don’t mind covering rent for a month or two,” he mutters. You look up at him again. ”If you wanna move out, I mean. I get it. It’s weird and creepy of me to even have accepted you as a roommate, let alone having liked you like this for so long, so really, I understand if you-” You grab his hand. Choso looks at you. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks so nervous and so endearing and so pretty. ”I like you, Choso.” You blink. His mouth is opening and closing, trying to find words, as the blush spreads across his face. ”Oh.” ”Yeah,” you say, tilting your head. ”Like me? Or just like me?” ”I like you.” ”Oh.”

You let go of his hand before pressing your palm against his, interlocking your fingers. He squeezes your hand. You smile and squeeze back.

=========

Choso isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t Chosos girlfriend. Too soon you’d said. I’ve been waiting a year and a half, what’s a bit longer Choso had replied. But still, something in the air has undoubtedly shifted. One day you come home from class just as Choso leaves the bathroom after his shower. He’s fully dressed, just some sweatpants and a T-shirt, yet you can’t help but stare. Eventually your eyes meet his and he gives you a small grin as he dries his hair. You look away, face as hot as your burning heart. One night you leave your room to get a glass of water before bed. Choso is sitting on the couch, playing a video game on low volume. As you open your door his eyes flick to yours and then down to your legs. Your bare legs. His eyes snap back up to yours and then quickly move back to the television as a blush spreads across his cheeks. You huff out a small laugh as you walk past him to the kitchen. After you finish your glass of water and go to head back to your room you instead take a seat on the armrest of the couch, next to where Choso is sitting. He looks up at you and you smile before reaching and running your hand through his hair. So many unspoken words shine in his eyes and your smile grows shy. You lean down quickly and press a short kiss to the corner of his mouth with a whispered ”g’night.” As you stand up Choso lightly grabs the hand you’re pulling out of his hair before softly kissing the inside of your wrist. Heat rises to your cheeks as your eyes meet his once again. Choso repeats your simple sentiment and you give him a nod before returning to your bedroom. You barely sleep that night, spending multiple hours rubbing the spot he’d kissed as you imagine how his lips would feel against yours. One afternoon the two of you are grocery shopping together, huddled closely together, inspecting the produce. You see an older woman steal a glance at you before tapping her husbands shoulder and gesturing to Choso and yourself. ”Remember when we were that young?” she asks him. He laughs. ”Of course I do.” You glance up at Choso and find his ears are as red as the bell pepper you’re holding in your hand.

One evening you and Choso are on the way home from going out with a few friends when you tell him you’re going to pop in to the convenience store really quick, and he tells you that he’ll wait for you outside. When you leave the store you find Choso outside, talking to a girl. As you approach, her eyes widen before she falls into a short bow and takes off. ”Never took you for a womanizer Choso,” you joke, taking a bite of pocky before offering the stick to him. ”She wasn’t hitting on me,” he mumbles as he chews. You snort. ”Sure she wasn’t.” You grab his hand and the two of you start walking home. ”No, really. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on,” he muses, rubbing his thumb along your fingers. ”I find that hard to believe,” you say, bumping against him, teasing. ”What do you mean?” he asks simply. You flush. ”Well… you know. You’re handsome,” you mutter. ”Oh.” You’re not sure if the response of simply gripping your hand tighter and burrowing into the collar of his jacket, muttering something you can’t make out is because he was in fact unaware of his own attractiveness or the fact that it was you who said the words. One day you text Choso. He replies straight away, even though you know he’s in class. — To : Choso :-) -> do u have plans today? From : Choso :-) <- Just my classes <- Was there anything you had on your mind? To : Choso :-) -> wanna go out? -> like on a date i mean -> we can stay in too if youd rather do thay -> that -> i just thought we cpuld talk maybe -> could -> so yeah -> lmk —

As soon as you press send on the final message you throw your phone down on the bed next to you and bury your face in your pillow. You don’t dare look at the screen. You stare at a tiny hole in the wall. Minutes pass. He’s in class you rationalize. Choso slams his phone down on the table as soon as he sees the word ”date” in your texts. As he sinks down in his chair he puts his face in his hands, feeling the blush spread from the tip of his nose all the way to his ears. His seatmate throws a questioning glance his way and the professor keeps talking but all he can think about is you. — From : Choso :-) <- Yeha sounds good! <- Yeah* <- My class is over in an hour if you want to meet up somewhere near campus? Otherwise I can come pick you up at home :-) To : Choso :-) -> does the park by campus sound ok? -> ill come meet u at the gates if thats fine From : Choso :-) <;- That’s fine! <- I can’t wait :-) To : Choso :-) -> me neither <3 — After sending the message you spring off your bed and hurry into the shower. You do your best to be as quick but also as thorough as possible. As you stand in front of your closet, wrapped in your towel, a thought pops in to your head. I want to look pretty. A thought you haven’t had since that one fateful meeting with him. You don’t want to call it a date. It hardly qualified as one anyways. I want to look pretty for Choso.

The simple specification makes heat rise to your cheeks. It feels easy, the soft, almost innocent affection you feel for Choso. You don’t dare think of what you feel as love, not yet, and you definetly don’t dare to say it out loud. However, despite the softness and the innocence, there is another aspect to your affection. A decidedly less soft and innocent aspect. You hesitate to call it something as simple as attraction, but can’t imagine calling it something as loaded as lust. Alas, something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that he won’t be able to take his hands off you. Something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that he’ll fall speechless the second your eyes meet. Something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that Choso will be yours, forevermore. You talk to your older sister on the phone while you do your makeup. She teases you relentlessly as you beg her for advice but you can hear the loving smile in her voice. For the entire busride you bounce your knee and pick at your nails. Your mind is running at the speed of light and you can’t seem to stop it, no matter how hard you try. Will you be my girlfriend? Can you be my girlfriend? Do you want to be my girlfriend? You try to imagine how he’ll phrase the inevitable question. A different scenario pops into your head. Please be my boyfriend, won’t you? Heat rises to your cheeks and you sink down into your seat. Be my girlfriend, yeah? He had charmed you at the time, you can’t deny that. The nonchalant words mixed with the slight eagerness in his eyes. But Choso won’t do that. As conceited as it makes you sound, you know that he won’t. He’s been waiting for you for too long, he would never be so careless about it. He meets you at the bus station, breathing heavily, sweat gathering at his brow. You glance at the small clock on your wrist. His class ended just a minute ago. You crack a smile as his eyes meet yours. ”I wouldn’t have minded waiting y’know,” you tell him as the two of you begin the short walk to the nearby park. ”Still,” Choso says as his breathing calms down. ”I never wanna make you wait.” "Unfair," you say, bumping your arm against his. "I've made you wait plenty of times." "Hm, well. Call it a special privilege." He doesn't elaborate on if the privilege is his or yours.

The park is quiet, a calm wind playing through the trees. You and Choso walk around for a bit, talking about nothing and everything. His class, your upcoming presentation, Yuujis exams. Groceries, favourite foods, pastries. Eventually the two of you sit down on a small bench under a willow tree, facing a pond. A family of ducks float across the surface, maneuvering between lilypads and reeds. Both of you know what you came here to do, but neither of you seem to know exactly how to do it. A few minutes pass in silence, broken by Chosos hand coming down to rest over yours. You look up from the pond and meet his eyes. Nervous and wide, yet more sure than you’ve ever seen them. Deep pools of dark brown with a tiny hint of a moody violet. ”Can I be your boyfriend?” Oh. Oh. You can’t find the words, so you just nod. So kind, so gentle, so humble. Not asking, not offering, not demanding. A simple request, one that you’d fulfil time and time again, through eons and lifetimes. You love him. I love him. ”I love you,” you mumble. Chosos cheeks bloom into a glowing red, and you feel the tips of your ears heat up similarly. You’re Chosos girlfriend. Choso is your boyfriend.

-- epilouge

It’s hot out. The cicada song and sunshine overwhelms your senses, but Chosos warm hand in your cold one grounds you as you walk up to your childhood home among the rice fields. You don’t hate the countryside, not at all. You just don’t think you were particularly made for it, at least not with how you live your life right now. Your sisters meet you on the porch, Namie, your older sister living at the house halftime and your younger sister Rei having left as soon as her classes ended and she was on break, two days before you and four days before Choso. Rei and Choso exchange waves and small greetings, having met a handful of times before back in the city. As you introduce him to Namie, Choso falls into a deep bow and quietly promises that he’ll take care of you. Your sisters just laugh, but both yours and Chosos cheeks are as warm as the searing summer sun. Your mother and her husband are still on a business trip, their promised arrival being a week after yours. Choso had been relieved when you told him he wouldn’t be meeting your entire family at the same time. Chilled glasses of ice tea sit on a tray in the living room, freshly poured by your grandfather as the four of you take your seats. He spends the better half of an hour interrogating your boyfriend while you rest on the engawa with your sisters. It’s nice to be home. Even if anywhere you are with Choso is home, you feel like bringing him here shows him how he makes you feel. His eyes meet yours through the open sliding doors and you hope and pray he understands how much it means to you that he’s here and he’s yours. A sliver of a grin grows on his face and you let out a content sigh. Dinner is short and sweet, most of the evening instead being spent on drinks and board games. Choso wins the first round and your grandfather mutters beginners luck under his breath, but you can see the small smile on his face. Namie retreats to her room after five rounds, your grandfather after seven and Rie after eight.

You and Choso stay downstairs for a while, just sitting in silence. As much as you love to speak with him, you also love how you never need to. The wind chimes play a soft melody as you stand up and pull Choso up from his seat, guiding him to your room. He gets into bed before you, half covered by the sheets. His eyes never leave you as you get undressed, and as soon as you step closer to the bed he pulls you down on top of him, brushing his lips against yours. You can taste the lemon sake you drank earlier mixed with the subtle mint of his toothpaste and grapefruit of your lip balm. He lets go of you after just a second or two, and you sink down against him. ”Can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me in my childhood bedroom,” you whisper against the crook of his neck. He hums. ”Is it working?” You laugh quietly before pressing a short kiss to his lips. ”Maybe. Pervert.” Neither you nor Choso are particularly affectionate with your words. You know he loves you and he knows you love him. But the words are rarely spoken out loud. The last time you told him was after he asked to be your boyfriend and the last time he told you was nearly three months after that, when the two of you had gone out on Christmas Eve. However, this seemingly normal summer night, quiet and warm, evidently brings out waves upon waves of whispered confessions as your bodies move against each other, skin to skin and heart to heart. It’s hot, almost boiling. The sweltering summer air blowing through your open window, Choso holding you tightly to his chest and the feeling of his body heat against your sticky skin. You’d noticed it after just a week of actual dating. Choso always runs hot. You run your hands through his hair as you grind down against him. He looks up at you before leaning up and kissing you. His lips are slightly chapped and burning, marking yours with an almost frantic obsession. ”I’m,” you gasp. ”I’m so fucking in love with you.” The words are mumbled against his lips, like a secret only the two of you are privy to. ”M-me too,” Choso murmurs, trailing off into a quiet whimper. ”I love you so much.” Between the whispers and pants, you hear the muted sound of crickets outside. ”Never wanna leave you,” he says softly. ”Me neither,” you answer, not even having to think about it.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader

[avenging-fandoms]

OKAY NAHHHH NOW U GOTTA WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THAT FRIENDS TO LOVERS BUT ITS TOO LATE TROPE

**i forgot who this was originally requested for so i’m gonna pick pedrito<3

Idk i kinda hate this

**fem pronouns

-

“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Yn sighed with her arms crossed, admiring Pedro as he adjusts his tie with a bright smile. “I always thought we would have to use our pact.” Yn half jokes. Pedro turns aroud with knitted eyebrows.

“What pact?” He questions and Yn’s heart breaks a little.

“The pack we made when we were 16, if we didn’t getting married by 50 we’d marry each other.” She reminds him and he snaps, nodding.

“I totally forgot about that. Well we probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” Pedro chuckles and sits to re-tie his shoes, Yn fidgeting with her bridesmaid dress nervously.

“How would we know if we never tried?”

She tried to be quiet but saw Pedro stop tying his shoes in her peripheral as she looks at her hands.

“Dove..” Pedro sighs and she sits next to him, holding his arm and looking at him through tears while he rubbed his eyebrows with his eye closed.

“Pedro, I fell in love with you years ago, and when I went to tell you you told me about Heather, so I didn’t tell you. But now I’m telling you right before you marry her.” Yn realizes what she’s doing.

“Right before I marry her!” Pedro exclaims, standing up quickly and Yn jumps. “Why not telling me in the beginning when it’s easier to end and I loved you back?” Pedro yelled.

Yn inhaled sharply and stared Pedro down, tears falling. “You loved me?” Yn couldn’t raise her voice higher than a soft whisper, and Pedro laughed in her face.

“Yes, Yn, I did. Before I fell in love with my soon-to-be-wife.” Pedro sighed and groaned loudly as he ran his hands down his face, looking at Yn who stood slowly, unable to make eye contact.

“Good luck with your marriage, Pedro. I wish you nothing but the best.” Yn nods and opens the door. Pedro’s eyes soften and widen, quickly heading to the door and trying to get her to stay. Yn didn’t respond to anything he said and quietly took herself away from his grip and racing to her car.

As she quickly drove away Yn couldn’t helped but sob. She couldn’t blame Pedro for how he felt but she was still upset, her heart was tightening with every breath and it was getting harder to breathe.

Yn couldn’t have stayed - she was a bridesmaid. To stand next to the woman the man you love is marrying sounds like an absolute nightmare, so she finds a few hours away where no one could find her. With the alcohol for the after party and her night bag, Yn bought a room for the weekend.

She turns off her phone and turns on the TV to find something random and cracking open the bottle of Tito’s.

Every sip she thought of Pedro and Heather. How they were exchanging vows, their first kiss. Once Yn turned her back on she was going to delete every app of social media she had so she sees nothing from the wedding.

Yn locks the door all the ways she can and grabs her laptop, her vodka and her pajamas as she heads to the bathroom. Yn closes the door and starts the bath, getting it hot before taking off her makeup and dress.

She angrily threw the dress in the trash with a sob, taking a drink of her vodka and submerging herself in the hot water, putting music on her computer. Her hand draped over the edge of the bathtub with the vodka bottle loose in her grip, eyes closed and lip syncing to the music before it stops.

She was getting a FaceTime call. From Pedro.

Yn took a big sip and answers, groaning as it burns going down.

“Dove, what the hell?!” Pedro was in a quiet room and Yn took a breath.

“What’s up, how’s the wedding?” Yn slurred terribly. She didn’t realize how drunk she was and Pedro was worried as Yn barely drinks.

“Yn, where are you?” Pedro asking angrily to which Yn shrugged.

“A guy’s house, Jackson. I called him sad and now I’m naked in his tub.” Yn giggles as she lies but Pedro just thinks she’s drunk giggling.

“He didn’t try anything did he?” Pedro’s tone of voice was low and his eyes were dark, and it sobered Yn up a bit.

“What do you care, married boy? You don’t love me anymore. Bye.” Yn hung up and put her laptop on Do Not Disturb so no more calls came through and she could enjoy her back.

She set her alcohol down, dunking herself under the water for a few minutes before coming back up, gasping as she wipes her face and runs her hands over her hair. Yn brings her knees to her chest, resting her cheek on her knee bone, staring at the drain as she thought.

She thought of Pedro, of Heather, of Jackson, of everything she could think of. Eventually the water got cold and Yn sobered up a bit. Yn stood up slowly and wobbled a bit while wrapping the towel around herself. She brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas before climbing into bed.

Yn finally turns on her phone and sees a few texts from Pedro, friends, and a bunch from Jackson talking about how Pedro showed up looking for her and threatened him. Yn sighed and texted him back, telling him she was very sorry and she’ll take him to dinner to explain; he agreed.

Yn took a few deep breaths before calling Pedro who answers in 3 rings.

“Where the hell are you?!” He scolds.

“You showed up to Jackson’s house? Pedro, I’m sorry if what I said messed with you, but you got married. Stop worrying who or where I am. Worry about you wife.”

“You did mess with me!” Pedro’s throat burns as he tries not to shout too loud for others to hear, his eyes glossy as he swallows. “Why did you do that?” Pedro asks as his lip softly trembles and Yn sighs, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she looks at the ceiling while tears well.

“I.. I don’t know, Pedro. It was selfish. I’m sorry. You’re a good man, a married man now. Please.. worry about your wife.” Yn’s voice broke.

“It should’ve been you, huh?” Pedro asks, sniffling.

“It’s too late to try.” Yn answers.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[thats-not-okie-dokie]

WELCOME HOME MARCH 9TH UPDATE SPOILERS!

One thing I don't think people are talking about enough is Wally's phonecall and the song choice of "Toyland". I know what Eddie went through is certainly the meat of the update, and while I haven't picked it apart myself, I've read a TON of very interesting theories on it. And some of which I agree with, so for redundancy's sake, I won't dwell on it for long. Whatever happens next, I know our beloved mailman is not okay-

But this post isn't about him. I bring up the song choice of Toyland because I find the lyrics to be an interesting parallel to the puppets "waking up" to the real situation they're in, whatever horrors that may be. The fact that Wally's singing it, and that we know he's been the first and only puppet with full awareness and with the ability to contact the outside world, makes the song feel a little somber upon a relisten.

The song describes Toyland as "childhood's joy land", and "once you dwell within it, you are ever happy there". It reminds me of the world the puppets inhabit; made for children and a place of warmth and joy. Then, the song describes "once you pass its border, you may ne'er return again". I think this signifies how Wally woke up from the happy puppet world. It represents him self-actualising. He can't fall back under the illusion, because now he knows too much. It'd be impossible to go back.

The saddest parts to me are in the second verse. "When you've grown up, my dears, and are as old as I, you'll laugh and ponder on the years that rolls so swiftly by, my dears" It represents just how much time has passed since the shutdown of the Welcome Home show. It's been almost 50 years. The years are passing so fast to him because it's the same old every day, and he can't help but laugh along because there's not much else for him to do. And besides, we've seen what happens when Wally experiences negative emotion. He has trouble processing it.

Besides the song, I also find the line "It's so quiet during Homewarming" to be quite odd. Homewarming is their equivalent to Christmas, right? That's supposed to be a time of togetherness and cheer. Music, laughter and merriment. But he describes it as "quiet" because everyone's busy. That seems like an antithesis of what Homewarming should be. Why is it just him and Home for so long? Why is the neighbourhood divided during what should be the liveliest time of the year? This might be a factor as to how the neighbourhood's getting distorted away from its original teachings and character. Instead of a lively cast of puppets, it's become cold and quiet. Eerie. Wally saying he doesn't want to hang up the call makes me think he feels very lonely. He has friends, like Barnaby, but he's separated from them for long periods of time. I feel like the phone calls are him trying desperately to connect to someone before he's dragged away again.

I also find it odd how he's usually so busy if it's just him and Home. Just what is he always doing, if he's not with his friends? I know that the phonecall ends because he has his adventure with Barnaby, asking around the neighbourhood for what Homewarming truly means, but what about the previous times? He always seems to be in a rush. And what do we hear before he hangs up? The creaking of Home's door and windows. It's like his own home is isolating him.

That's all I have on Wally. Maybe I'm just repeating what people have been saying for a long time, I don't know. But thank you to anyone who sat down to read this! I appreciate it :)

#welcome home #wally darling #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #welcome home wally #theory talk #theory time #wh theory #welcome home spoilers #wally phonecall #I also have a theory on Sally #I might talk about it later if people are interested

[minnielvr]

DIE FOR YOU - chapter 11 : "y/n asf"

"okay next question," hyunjin took another flash card, "at what age does the brain become fully mature?"

"oh easy, 25 years old." you answered.

hyunjin was currently helping you study for your psychology test for tomorrow, like he promised when he took you out. it was going well so far and there were no major distractions.

"ugghh y/n im bored." hyunjin threw the flashcards on the desk and whined.

"hey! do you think i want to do this right now too?"

"well then lets just not do it.."

"hyunjin i HAVE to study for this test, it makes up like 30% of my grade." in truth though, you've already studied way more than needed. maybe you were just looking for an excuse to spend more time with him.

"oh cmon y/n, we've done 50 flash card and you've been studying the whole week. lets just stop now hm?" he offered

"okay, fine. but what will we do now?" you didn't want him to leave, but you didn't want to be bored either.

"uhhh icecream?" he raised his brow

"hyunjin it's almost 1 in the morning nothing is open." you hit his head softly.

"OH I KNOW-" you covered his mouth, "hyunjin shut up!! you'll wake them up" you scolded him

"sorry sorry. anyway how about we dye my hair." he said with a grin on his face.

"im sorry what?" you blinked a couple of times.

"well im kinda getting bored of this red, most of my outfits don't match with it either." he started playing with it.

"but i love the red. its so...you"

"awwww well thank you cutie." he squished your cheeks and surprisingly, you let him.

"well where could we find hair dye right at this time of night? and what color?"

"im sure theres a 24 hour market here somewhere. and i want to do black." he went on his phone and googled up places nearby.

"well, lets go then. you sure about this?" you asked one last time.

he shrugged his shoulders, "i guess"

‿୨♡୧‿

you and hyunjin were now in the convenience store looking at the hair dye. you guys were arguing about wether he should get permanent or temporary.

"hyunjin if you get permanent then you don't like it how will you take it off?" you tried to reason with him

"y/n my natural hair color is black...i know how i look." he laughed at you.

"oh...well my bad i didn't know you before this." you crossed your arms, why is he laughing at you?

"awww it's cute how much you care, cmon lets go to checkout." he dragged you along.

"just for the record i don't care."

he just looked back at you and smiled. you guys were at the register and hyunjin payed, then you left to walk back.

‿୨♡୧‿

hyunjin was in your bathroom on a chair with a towel over his shoulders, while you were mixing up the dye.

you came behind him and looked at him in the mirror "you ready?"

"lets do it."

so you got to work, spreading the dye all over his bright red hair and on his roots. you guys made small talk while doing so, asking him about his friends and whatnot. soon you guys finished and let it dry for 30 minutes, it should've been for longer but he couldn't wait.

you took him back to the bathroom where he leaned his head over the tub so you could wash it. you reached out to his hair and started running your fingers through it messily while he sighed, saying it felt like a massage. you finished up quickly and didn't allow him to look in any mirrors until you finished cleaning.

you led him to your dresser and made him sit down in front of it while you kept a hand over his eyes.

"okay you can look in 3...2...1!! open!!" you raised your hand off his eyes.

"wowww it looks good" he started playing with his hair and styling it.

you guys talked for a bit after that while admiring his new hair, eating some snacks, and obviously not forgetting to take some pictures.

"omg hyunjin its 3 am you have to go home" you couldn't have him spend the night.

"awww whyyy?" he pouted and put his arms around you. lately he was getting very touchy, but you didn't mind.

you tried pushing him off, "because i have to sleep and so do you! i have a big day tomorrow"

"but if i walk in the house that late they'll all be suspicious..." he looked away from you, he forgot about the dare.

"so? just tell them you fucked someone or something." you shrugged while chewing on your granola bar, not thinking much of it.

"can i tell them i fucked y-" you put your hand over his mouth once again, "dont even think about it."

you walked him to the door and let him put on his shoes, then he faced you.

"well, thanks for everything tonight y/n. i hope we can do it again." he smiled at you.

he wants to do this again? with you? damn since when did you become so weak for guys.

"your welcome hyunjin, thanks for taking me out too, it was super fun. oh and studying" you started to remember the whole night.

he went in to give you a hug, so you returned it, squeezing him tight. but when he pulled away you gave him a little peck on his lips.

"g'night hyune" you smirked and pushed him out the door.

did you really just kiss hwang hyunjin? this must be a dream, you thought to yourself. as you turned around to walk back to your room, you were met with three faces right in front of you. so naturally, you screamed.

"Y/N WHAT THE FUCK???" all 3 of your friends screamed at once.

"oh. my. god. yunjin you were here the whole time?" you thought she was with keeho.

"well duh!! i wanted to hear all the details when you came back from dinner with hyunjin but apparently you guys had other plans." she crossed her arms.

"yea y/n, other plans. such as dying his hair." haerin also crossed her arms.

"and kissing him." now hanni crossed her arms.

"ugh guys it's not that big of a deal, come sit down. i'll explain everything"

───────────────────────────────

series masterlist • prev • next

a/n: fairlife protein shakes are literally keeping me alive

the taglist is open!!! pls comment on this post or send an ask if u wld like to be added!!!

taglist : @sunoo-bby @chili-crab0811 @sanriiolino @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @lolli4me @grayscorner @veedoesntknaur @jia-qian @cherryuqii @xrvrqs @abbiestearsricochet @k1t0 @escapetheash @lucktales @soulphoenix1618 @jungkookies1002 @mrsseochangbin @hyunskzza @adr1an4 @eyearebee @hrtsforhyun @surefornext

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smau #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz scenarios #skz smau #skz fluff #skz crack #skz hyunjin #skz stay #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smau #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin x you #hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader

[oopsgracie]

steve x fem reader

Can I get a request where the group is at the Creel house, and Steve is super protective of the reader.

i hope this lives up to expectations!! super sweet unless you’re scared of spiders like me <3

haunted house with a picket fence

(to float around and ghost my friends <3)

warnings: spiders and swearing

word count: 1.3k

The study door yawns open behind you, groaning beneath its own weight on antique hinges stiff with rust— a classic horror trope. Almost so cliche it doesn't scare you as dust swells into the air like insects, winking in the strobe light of Steve's borrowed flashlight and sinking back between the floorboards as though it were never disturbed.

But only almost.

You start, swinging round to face him, his familiar silhouette backlit against the empty hallway, his eyes narrowed in the face of your flashlight that’s aimed at his forehead. He throws his hands up and grimaces.

“You know is that really necessary?” You stand there, unimpressed, going so far as to scowl at him and stubbornly refuse to lower it like a petulant child, “I feel like i’m being interrogated or some shit.”

“And you deserve to,” you hiss, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Manifest in the doorway like something out of Poltergeist.” You steer the light toward a grate absentmindedly, shaking your head as he leans against the frame and you go to jab two fingers into his sternum, “Not cool.”

“Hey, you’re fine. You’re fine. I was just checking you hadn’t fallen through the floor it’s all pretty—“ He kicks a loose board and it shrieks in protest, “… old.”

“Oh come on Steve,” You giggle, something so strangely uplifting to hear among the cobwebs and the dark, a sound that’s been lacking here for thirty years— in this joyless maze of dingy rooms that sit forgotten in the cold light of day, light that seeps through boarded windows and ripples on the floor like water, “It’s just a big, old house.” You jump to test it’s strength, the floorboards mewling beneath your feet, “I’m totally safe.”

“I know, just— please don’t wander off on your own. Copy?”

“Loud and clear, Mom.” He rolls his eyes but guides you into the hall kindly by the small of your back, his hand warm against your skin as it boldly snakes beneath the hem of your sweater into the waist of your skirt.

“How about you take the big, scary bedroom next and i’ll have a nose around the bathroom?” You turn, eyes level with his throat and tilt your flashlight beneath your chins, carving out the bow of his lips, soft against the hard shadows that gather beneath his brow bone and settle in the hollows of his cheeks. It reminds you of telling stories at camp, nostalgic and sweet.

“Yeah, uh no. That’s not happening.”

“I’ll be just across the hall.” You brush your lips chastely over his, not in a kiss but the ghost of one, your noses brushing delicately against one another.

“What did I say about wandering off?” His adam’s apple bobs in anticipation.

“Steve.”

“I don’t like this.” He murmurs softly, his breath comfortingly warm on your cheeks and different to the damp which festers in the air, stagnant since the 50s. He tastes like toothpaste.

“It’ll be fine I promise, I don’t think this wizard sleeps in the tub.” He smiles unwillingly, the corners of his mouth curling upward in his best attempt at holding back laughter. “And it makes more sense— it’s like way more efficient.”

“Okay.” He relents when you smooth your hands dotingly across his shoulders, sweeping away the stray flecks of dust that decided to settle on his jacket— and fixing his collar too while you’re at it. “Okay fine.”

“Really?”

“It’s not like I can stop you.”

“Correct.” You call back to him. It echoes in the eaves and lingers for a moment after you’ve spoken.

“Hey uh…” But he clears his throat, hovering at the threshold opposite, fingers caught on the doorframe like an afterthought and drumming anxiously against the splintered wood, “Just yell if you need anything and… i’ll be as quick is I can.” You smile brightly and you nod with silent promise before disappearing into the dark and out of his sight with curious anticipation.

The floor is in better condition here, more stable as you step into the room considering it’s paved neatly with porcelain tile in geometric patterns, even beneath the copper tub that lacks a faucet handle. Besides the dirt that accumulates inevitably over the course of a few generations it was beautiful, had antique charm. And while you rifled through the cabinet, kicked at a few loose slabs on the floor it had no secrets to share with you. There were no clues here. You went to leave, distracted suddenly by an air vent that winks in the beam of your flashlight like crystal. It’s different to the one you found earlier— sunk into the floor and suspiciously screwed shut.

You pick at it, determined, tampering with short fingernails until it eases reluctantly away from the frame.

Jam jars are huddled like spies inside and the cobwebs strung between them are thick with flies. You reach for the tallest one, wanting to know what they hold. The dust is so thick it feels like velvet on the glass and peering through it there seems to be only twigs and something cottony inside, definitely old and dry but caught in it there’s a marble sized spider. More of them, trapped in there like someone’s pet but shrivelled with age and curled tightly into itself, it rattles at the bottom. Truly, truly disgusting and long dead now.

It’s not like you’re frantic, but hastily you shove it back between the others and leave them there as you press the grate haphazardly over the hole, that’s until something twinges on the cuff of your sweater, light but not unnoticeable and when you do, you only have to shriek once.

Before you’ve finished flicking it off, the spider now scuttling into a crevice, steps fly in the hall and you collapse against a warm body who’s arms close around your waist firmly, hauling you backward in the hallway, even slamming the door shut behind him. He twists you by your shoulders, his eyes searching earnestly for injury, raking over your face, your arms, your chest. “Are you okay?” You’re shaken, fingers curling into the sleeves of his sweater until your knuckles are white as you brace yourself against him to catch your breath, pulse beating in your throat, shattering your ability to speak for a moment. “What? What’s wrong? Who—“

“S-spiders.” You croak, staring at his anxiously expectant expression and feeling safer when he tugs you to his chest, cradling the side of your face with an open palm like you’re made of glass.

“Oh god, it’s okay, you’re okay. No need to panic.” You coil your arms around his neck and breathe in the smell of his detergent and hairspray— both are perceptible in the same way his fingerprints are, specific to him. “Here.” He offers and slowly, so as not to startle you, he turns your back to him by tugging gently at one hand and begins to comb through your hair with careful fingers, picking out anything that might have fallen into it. He goes so far as brush it over one side, smoothing the back of your sweater flush to your skin and fondly kissing the point at which it meets your neck, eventually pressing his face into the crook of your shoulder intimately. “Spider free.” You can feel his mouth against your skin as he speaks and lean back into the warmth of his touch. “Totally safe.”

“Thank you Steve.” Gratitude wells up your chest and your eyes flutter closed in contentment, releasing any tension with a satisfied sigh and whispering apologetically, “Sorry for scaring you, it was stupid.”

“No. No, it’s not stupid at all. You know i’ll always be there to… to—“

You laughed quietly into the dark, something that didn’t seem so threatening anymore, and like waves he felt it reverberate through his chest. “Protect me from the spiders?”

“Haunted houses, ghosts.” He snickers. “From anything you need me to. Always.”

let me know what you think!! my requests are open for anything you want to read next!! <3

you can also read my other fic ‘get to it’ - steve harrington x reader here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve the hair harrington #steve the babysitter #mom steve #stranger things s4 #stranger things four #oopsgracie #eddie munson

[mariacallous]

(New York Jewish Week) – When Michael Witkes arrived at his bar mitzvah party, he knew he couldn’t enter to a musical theater song, his preferred genre, because he was already being bullied for being too effeminate and flamboyant. So, he simply told the DJ to just pick any song that matched the vibe of a bar mitzvah entrance.

The DJ picked “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross. 

“This day that is supposed to be completely celebratory became this kind of tragic, camp event, where I had to wrestle with getting bullied because of this,” Witkes said. “I was just trying to become a man, a Jewish adult, and then I was suddenly getting outed at my bar mitzvah.”

Eighteen years later, Witkes, 31, is a professional drag queen in New York City, performing as “Pink Pancake.” This week, he will revisit that troubling coming-of-age moment in his first ever one-woman drag show, “Today You Are a Man!” at The Tank NYC.

“I take that moment of tragedy and I flip it on its head and I turn it into this play about self discovery and coming into your authenticity as a queer person and as a Jew,” Witkes told the New York Jewish Week.

Witkes first began developing the show, which runs for 50 minutes, two years ago as a four-minute lip sync for a “Hanukkah in July” drag performance. Since then, he’s partnered with director and queer Jewish art and events curator Stuart B Meyers to flesh out a full-length performance. 

“The show gives an earnest portrayal of the horror of that experience, how awful it was, and is, to be bullied for being gay and femme, yet also lifts and celebrates the story of who Michael has become through drag,” Meyers told the New York Jewish Week. “So what’s really interesting is that the piece is about his bar mitzvah of the past, but in a big way, it’s also a bar mitzvah in and of itself, because it’s a celebration of his own very Jewish process of coming into this next chapter as Pink Pancake.” 

Ahead of the show, the New York Jewish Week caught up with Witkes about what it was like to make the show and revisit his bar mitzvah experience. 

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

What would you tell your 13-year-old self about how far you’ve come?

It’s funny because I think if I told my 13-year-old self, “Hey, you’re now a drag queen in New York, and you’re making a living pursuing this queer art form,” I think that my 13-year-old self would be horrified. This might be my biggest fear at the time, realized. 

First, I would give my 13-year-old self a giant hug. I think I would say, “You are wonderful as you are and just let your inner star shine. At the time, I did everything I could to make myself smaller and to try to hide the fact that I was gay, even though I was just naturally more feminine and flamboyant growing up. I did everything I could to hide that, with my clothes, with the way I walked around. Everything was a performance. I would just say, “Hey, baby, breathe, let it all out. It’s gonna be okay. Own who you are.”

What does it mean to you to have your first full-length one-woman show center on a Jewish narrative?

I grew up in a pretty Jewish suburb of Philadelphia, on the Main Line. I feel like growing up, I kind of took my Judaism for granted. In seventh grade, there was a bar or bat mitzvah every single weekend. Judaism was so prevalent that it wasn’t a huge part of my identity. 

But now we’re in a time where there is this rise in antisemitism and you can feel it. In my other gigs, I have made some self-deprecating jokes in the mic about being Jewish — as Jews do with Jewish humor. Before it was just a part of my act, but now I have this inner voice in the back of my head saying “Is it safe to say this? Is it safe to make these jokes? Is it safe to be openly Jewish?” Since coming out and embracing myself fully, I’ve been really proud to be queer. Now I feel like the show is helping me be more proudly Jewish. It’s been wonderful working with Stuart Meyers, who has done a lot of queer Jewish work and queer Jewish art, because he’s kind of pushed me to embrace my Judaism even more and pull things out in the show in relation to my Jewish identity even more, so it’s been really exciting. We have to continue to be visible and proud and continue to advocate for ourselves and everyone that is marginalized in the global majority.

Do you feel like making this show has helped you process the trauma from your bar mitzvah party and given you a second chance at celebrating?

That is the structure of the show in a way, where I have the chance to do it all over again. It’s a queering of this Jewish rite of passage. The whole show, in a way, is like a redo of my own bar mitzvah, but now I’m in drag as a woman — but I’m not a woman, and I’m also very gender-queer. It’s a beautiful way to explore what it means to be a man and to explore your gender identity and sexuality. 

This has definitely helped me process my bar mitzvah and re-own this moment that was kind of tragic. In general, my bar mitzvah was a wonderful event — this moment just clouded it. I think that wounds can continue to heal and come back and they can surprise you like, “Oh, I thought I got over that.” So revisiting this moment has definitely brought some things up to the surface that I’m able to now heal from. 

I rewatched the video of my service many, many times while putting the show together. I had a wonderful support system in my parents, but I don’t think I fully realized that at the time because I felt so alone and othered in school. So it’s really healing to be able to look back and listen to the speeches that my parents made at my bar mitzvah. Watching myself in the video, I look awkward and I don’t like that my parents are saying nice things about me and I’m probably not fully paying attention and kind of dissociating because it’s uncomfortable. But to look back now — my parents are so sweet. My dad said that he appreciated how sensitive I was and how gentle I was. These are things that I was bullied for, because they’re not “masculine.” But at my bar mitzvah, he was saying you’re a man because of all of these things. That’s just so beautiful. 

I’m excited to bring it to an audience. I’m sure that healing will happen even more when it’s in front of a live audience and I’m hoping that the same thing will happen for them as well. I hope bringing the specificity of this event to my show will allow people to bring the specificity of their own moments growing up Jewish or growing up queer and find healing and celebration.

What else can people expect at the show?

There are going to be too many costumes in a short amount of time. I’m really excited for all of these wacky costumes I’m bringing. It’s going to be heartfelt, it’s going to be drag. It’s a full production and I’m so excited to finally bring this to life after sitting on it for all this time. It combines drag lip sync with multimedia — video projections of my bar mitzvah and lots of other very fun, funny things. Of course, I have two backup dancers — it’s a one-woman show, but it’s a one-woman drag show, so that means that you need to have two backup dancers. It’s a fully realized show with a plot and a beginning, middle and end.

“Today You Are a Man!,” is playing at The Tank NYC (312 W. 36th St.) Jan 18-20 at 9:30 p.m. and Jan. 21 at 7 p.m. Tickets start at $15.

[lady-pug]

if we could wake up

Chapter I of Wouldn't It Be Nice

Summary: You sustain a head injury while on a mission but Whiskey isn’t fast enough to administer the alpha gel, so your memories of your time at Statesman don’t come back. Instead, you only remember up until the day before you were recruited and your memory ends up being reset every night. Jack makes it his mission to make you fall in love with him everyday (50 First Dates AU)

Pairing: Jack Daniels | Agent Whiskey x Reader

Word count: 1,1k

Warnings: major head injury (bullet to the head, but it's reversed using Statesman technology), memory loss

Notes: Hello dearest readers, it is I. I bring thee something that has been sitting among my WIPs for over two (I kid you not) whole years. I’ve had chapters one and two of this story completely ready stored in my files alongside all my other WIPs and simply never remembered to publish it FOR OVER TWO YEARS! Shame on me, wtf. Which makes me quite sad because it was one of my favorites to work on when I first came up with this idea. But anyways here it is.

I distinctly remember having come up with the idea for this after watching ‘50 First Dates’ four times in the same week (if it wasn’t clear by now this is my all time favorite rom-com) and thinking it fit right up with this cowboy right here.

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Bullets were flying, coming from everywhere. Whiskey could barely look over the cover he was hiding behind before someone was shooting at him.

“Ginger!” he screamed into the earpiece “Cider’s down!”

“What happened?” he heard the static voice of Agent Ginger Ale, or as her friends liked to call her, Elizabeth or Liz, over the comms.

“Dunno. Some goons are shooting at us. She just went down.” he ducked again after failing to locate his partner “Can’t even find her. Probably shot at.”

“Get to her immediately. If she got hit in the head you need to administer the alpha gel as soon as possible!”

“I’m trying here, Ging! Ain’t as easy with twenty guys aiming at your head.”

“Use one of those stunning bombs I made you.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use those prototypes yet.”

“That’s all you got now!” he could tell Ginger was becoming agitated “Just do it, Jack!”

He did just that. Picking up one of the stunning bombs in his pocket he threw it as hard as he could towards the barricade. A loud, piercing sound erupted almost immediately, hurting his ears even from where he was. Poor goons, he thought. With his ears still ringing, he took off using his whip and lasso to take out the men one by one.

Once the place was clear and no other enemies could be detected, he ran towards the place he last saw you. Where you had gone down. He came to a halt, however, his heart dropping to his stomach when his eyes landed on your slumped form, a bullet hole on your temple and blood covering the ground.

“Shit, Ging! They blew her brains out.”

“Administer the gel, quick! It’s been way too long already.”

He fumbled with the equipment, almost dropping the roll of gel, before he quickly placed  it over your face, making sure to cover the wound.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m going to take care of you. Ging is going to fix your pretty little head in no time, yeah?”

The gel inflated and seemed to be doing its job. 

“Ginger, the gel’s been administered. What now?”

“I’m sending a rescue team your way. Try keeping her head slightly elevated.” she said “And Jack? She’s going to be okay.”

Jack nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He moved around and propped his back against a tree, his legs extended in front of him. As carefully as he could, he dragged your body, laying your head on his lap, running his fingers through your hair.

“You are going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise.”

The following hours were amongst the longest of his life. Jack would even go as far as to say it was almost as long as the hours he went without any news from his wife the day she had died. As soon as the plane landed on the tarmac, a gurney was ready to take you, rolling you to Ginger’s lab.

She wouldn’t allow him to go inside. The machine you were currently hooked onto had nanoparticles working on your brain to regenerate your neurons, astrocytes and neuroglia, or something sciency he couldn’t quite understand. He was in absolute agony not knowing how you were.  

Finally, after what seemed like weeks, Ginger finally walked out of the lab. He scrambled to his feet from where he was sitting slumped against the wall in front of the lab’s doors.

“How is she?” he blurted out.

“Stable. But the damage to her brain was extensive. And the alpha gel wasn’t administered within the correct window of time.”

“Shit, Liz- I- If I had gotten to her quicker…”

“Hey, hey Jack” she laid a hand on his shoulder “It’s not your fault. There were 23 men shooting at the both of you. Our entire elite squad couldn’t take them all out that quick. You did all you could.”

He sighed, only half believing her.

“What does that mean to her?”

It was Ginger’s turn to sigh.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll only be able to assess the real extent of the damage once she wakes up.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Why don’t you take a shower, maybe try taking a nap? I’ll wake you up if anything changes.”

He nodded, actually wanting desperately to clean up now that Ginger mentioned it, but already knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink until he knew you were safe. 

Jack walked slowly back towards his quarters, almost dragging his feet into the shower. The water seemed to sooth his aches, but not his worries. He couldn’t get the image of your form, suddenly dropping lifeless, out of his head. Everytime he closed his eyes that scene replayed in the back of his eyelids like some sick, twisted film.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose another person he- shit, did he love you? You have been partners for years now, always had each other's backs. You were one of the few people he truly trusted, someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and be vulnerable. To be himself. Recently, he’s started feeling something more than just the friendship you’ve nourished for the past years. He felt the urge to protect you, even though he knew for a fact you could look after yourself. He wanted to kiss you goodnight and wake up next to you the following morning. So did he love you? 

Yeah. Yeah, he did. He knew that now. And he couldn’t lose you.

Laying on his bed, his hair was still wet from the shower when Ginger pinged him. He was out of bed and halfway across the base in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t remember running that fast in years. Bursting through the door of the lab, he found you sitting on one of the pristine white beds, Ginger in front of you holding a clipboard.

“Sweetheart…”

Both you and Ginger looked at him with wide eyes. Ginger walked around your bed in his direction.

“Whiskey, wait-” but he didn’t listen.

“Sweetheart, thank all things sacred, you’re okay!” 

He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around you in the tightest embrace you two had ever shared. He pulled back, hardly noticing the way you stiffened in his embrace, cupping your cheeks so he could look into your eyes.

“Jack-” he faintly registered Ginger’s voice behind him, but he didn’t truly care. All he cared about was that you were safe. That is until you opened your mouth to talk.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled politely at him “but who are you?”

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle fanfiction #kingsman fanfic #tw: major head injury #tw: memory loss

[scarisd3ad]

Superstar | football player!Joel miller x popstar!Reader

Two - New Romantics

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A/N - lol this feels so weird these chapters are so short compared to what I write for ‘to the end and back’

‘Baby we’re the New Romantics’

"So, you're really going out with this guy?" my friend Tara asks. she's sitting on my bathroom counter while I'm applying my makeup. "it's all fake pr shit" I say as I rub my lips together making a pop sound as I make sure my lipstick is even. I was hoping for this to help get my breakup with Andy out of the media or at least help bring the attention away from it. it had been the main focus of almost every interview with and article about me. I just wanted to be asked about something other than Andy. "he's cute though" she mutters as I dab some lip gloss onto my lips. I can't lie to myself and say Joel isn't cute. he's muscular but also has a dad bod at the same time, he has dark brown hair, and matching brown eyes. he was hot, every time he's around me my cheeks flush and my hands get shaky. he was just I guess a little too old for me, or at least he's way out of the age range I thought was appropriate to date. "yeah, but he's too old feel like my mom would actually murder me if I actually dated him" she nods as she grabs the lip gloss tube out of my hand and begins applying it to her lips.  it wasn't like he was 50 my mom was just weird when it came to age gaps and her daughters. "He's what 37? its only 11 years and you're an adult," I shrug "it's for the best, don't really need to be in an actual relationship right now." 

knock knock knock.

"Oh, that must be him" I say as I slip on my heals and stumble down the stairs. Tara follows after me as I open the door. there's Joel dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a dress shirt with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. butterfly's flutter in my stomach as I smile at him. he was such a gentleman even though we weren't actually dating. "Thank you, let-let me get these in water really quick you can come in" I say with a giggle as I run into my kitchen. I quickly grab a vase and fill it with some water before placing them into it, leaving it on the counter. I walk in right as Tara is looking him up and down "Tara" she mutters "Joel nice to meet you." ollie saunters over making all the tension fly away as he rubs his head against Joels shin "mreow" 

"alright we should go, I'll see you later k?" Tara nods as Joel takes my hand. I hear the door shut behind us, "don't think she liked me" Joel laughs, I shake my and "no Tara's like that" Joel and I walk to his car, it was a red convertible. somehow the paparazzi knew he'd be here, they're lined up outside the on the sidewalk snapping pictures. the flickering of the camera lights can get annoying, but I've gotten used to it. it's not like they are ever going to leave me alone, so I have to. "y/n! are you two dating? Joel!" they scream as he helps me into the passenger side of the car. I roll my eyes as I settle myself into the car, I was okay with them being at a restaurant because that's a public place, but this is my house. "You alright?" Joel asks as he gets into the driver's side. he starts up the car "yeah, just this is my house y'know they shouldn't be here" Joel nods as he places his hand on the backside of my seat and turns around as he pulls out of my driveway. my stomach flips. why is that always so hot? "ya think I'd go to jail if I ran one of them over?" he jokes with a grin on his lips. I shrug as I laugh "probably." 

"ya look pretty" he whispers which makes my stomach do a few more flips, "thanks you look good too" I say as I push a piece of my hair back behind my ear. we go to a nice little Italian restaurant that Joel said his daughters both really loved. it was small family owned and probably not expecting a full crew of paparatizi standing outside peering through their windows. we have a table in the way back, so we don't have to pretend so much. 

"What are ya gonna get?" he asks, I shrug as I hold the menu in front of me. "Dunno you?" the dinner is mostly just us chatting, barely any eating. we talk about his family mine, why he chose football, why I chose singing. "So, you know bout my family what about yours?" he asked, family was weird for me it wasn't like I didn't have any, but I didn't spend much time with them. "Well, I have 2 younger sisters' bout a little bit older than Sarah." he nods, "they live here in Texas?"

I take a sip of my water whilst I nod. "Yup up in Dallas though."

 when we finish up our dinner and the waiter brings us the check Joel pulls out his wallet "I can pay my half" I whisper as he pulls fifty dollars out of his wallet "no ma'am" he says as he places the fifty into the check book and hands the check book back to the waiter. he didn't have to be such a gentleman we both had money I could've easily paid my half. "I'll pay you back then" he shakes his head "nope no need." 

"Then I'll tip" he shakes his head again as he places another fifty down on the table. "come on I don't want it to seem like I'm some type of sugar baby." he laughs again, I didn't want the media to somehow find out about him paying the whole check and tip he would be loved for being 'a gentleman' but I'd get criticized for 'making him pay when I've got money' "sweetheart no need c'mon no woman should pay while there on a date"  the pet name makes my heart skip a beat. I let out a sigh of defeat and stand up and follow him towards the front of the restaurant. almost everyone who's in the restaurant heads turn, their eyes following after us. Joel grabs my hand before we walk out the door and into chaos that was outside. I keep my head down shielding my eyes from the constant flashing of the cameras. Joel guides me towards his car. "y/n! y/n how was your date?" 

"Joel is it official!" 

once we get back into the car, I let out a sigh. even though this is what we wanted the attention it can be exhausting. all the yelling, all the lights, sometimes id trade all of this for one day without someone following me around with a camera. "Thank you it-it was nice" I whisper as I place my phone in my lap. he smiles down at me as he places the keys into the ignition. the car starts up with a loud growl as both the radio and air conditioner begin to blast. he pulls out of the parking spot and then we're on our way back towards my house. 

I stare down at my phone, staring at a tweet linked with a shaky probably cell phone taken picture of Joel and I walking hand in hand out of the restaurant 'they're so cute!!!' I let out a sigh. there are about 5 million pictures of me like this hand and hand with a man walking me out of a restaurant about all of them were with Andy until now. I wonder what he thought about me being in a 'relationship'. I hoped he felt like bad, I hoped he regret the moment he decided to break up with me, but I know he probably doesn't. I know he's probably unbothered by it, he probably doesn't give one flying fuck even though I spent months mourning the relationship. I spent months hoping, praying, begging every god to make him regret it and come back, but he never did and now I'm here kind of actually happy with another man. another man is making my heart skip a beat the same way he did. another man makes me blush when he calls me sweetheart, just like Andy did. and for the first time in what feels like forever I don't want to cry when thinking about Andy, but I smile reminiscing on the relationship I had spent so much of my time in. I still wasn't ready to be in another relationship, at least right now but this could be fun. fucking around a little bit.

Joels car comes to a stop in front of my house. "I had fun- we-we should do this again" I whisper as I look up at Joel, he nods a small smile forming on his lips. I actually did have fun, it had some weird thrill, faking a relationship. "Ye-yeah it was fun text me maybe?" he looks down at my lips before looking back up into my eyes almost as if he's asking for permission to kiss me. I nod slightly before we both begin to lean in. it felt like something out of a romcom, the football player, and the popstar faking a relationship for personal gain, but they end up falling in love. a match made in heaven. 

"Hey!" we both quickly pull apart both our heads snapping towards the voice. there stood at my front porch with ollie dangling from her arm was Tara her face barely illuminated by the porch light. she somehow found a way to cock block me all the fucking time. "you're fucking cat pissed on the goddamn floor!" 

I let out a frustrated sigh as I unbuckle my seatbelt "I'll see you later."

-

I cleaned up the pee off the ground, and is now laid in bed, Tara laid next to me with her phone in her hand, and ollie sleeping at the foot of the bed. "So, is it still pr?" Tara asks, I roll my eyes as I nod "still pr" I whisper. I can see from the corner of my eye that she's scrolling through twitter, almost every tweet contained a picture of Joel and I either hand in hand walking out of the restaurant or walking to his car earlier that night. it made my stomach flip in a weird way; it made me feel all giddy.  "you two looked pretty in love in these pictures" she mumbles as she turns the phone towards me showing me a bunch of pictures of Joel and I. "acting" I whisper as my phone buzzes in my hands.  

Joel miller ;)

Joel miller ;) - next Friday 6?

Taglist

@taylarxse @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @ktheunready @camixkami @skysmiller @mars743 @romeestrvjds @lightxzhan @alyhull @jenna-mcgraw19 @raindropsandteaandtears @winkuchu @lexloon @greensabereyesforcevictim @cozylibraries @celebrities-imagines

#fanfics #x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #sarah miller #ellie williams #tlou #the last of us show #pedro pascal #the last of us #pre outbreak!joel #no outbreak!joel miller #fem!reader #female!reader #taylor swift #travis kelce

[crazy-lazy-elder-sims]

-the Tired accountant and the senior Designer pt2-

Hello again i decided to expand on my sims for the simblr office idea by @kashisun once again thank you for this and apologies if im a bit spammy im slightly excited lmao

Okay buckel up folks cause im about to take you on a journey TM lol

Introducing our office babes

Christian Sinclare:

33 years old but feels 50

Doesn't like coffee but drinks it to stay awake

His favorite color is Naomi's hair color👀

..... And sage green

Literally the only accountant in this company that you can talk to that wont bring up budget cuts in the first 5 mins

His favorite meme is the "keep calm and carry on" meme but people call him an old man if he brings it up. #leavesinclarealone2023

Always works late but only because he prefers to finish the financial reports on the same day he started them so he can sleep at night (anxiety gang hello👋)

So many coworkers from other depratments come down and talk to him about various Accounting things he has no idea why its not like he is the manger or head of the department ( its because he is handsome and all the peeps want a piece of him he's just too cluless to notice)

Obsessed with the presence of Mathematical algorithms in nature and everyday life

His favorite is how Bats can find the exact location of things using echo location and the math behind that

The golden Ratio is another obsession and he spends his days off in Museums observing painting that has them

Naomi Marroquin:

31 years old iced coffee addict

Her hair color was an accidental dark red home hair dye job that went wrong but she liked it so much she kept it for years

Her favorite color is red

Hates staying late and leaves the office at 5 o'clock sharp and no one can stop her (trust me they tried)

Says she doesn't care for all the office gossip and scandal but she is besties with the one HR employee from how much she goes down there to get the juicy gossip

Is the senior graphic designer but the graphic department head put her in charge of Budgeting and making exel sheets for the accounting department because she was the only one with "excel proficiency" on her resume

That was a lie

The first time she got assigned an excel sheet assignment she googled "how to learn excel fast" then added " for dummies" exactly 2 mins later

She oftten clashes withthe Accounting department on thier requestes to lower costs and cut out quality

Hates doing all the obove through email and tries to meet anyone from the accounting department but they all avoid her because they have no time for her 30 mins lectures about the importance of paper quality

Fun facts:

Naomi is taller than Christian 💓

Naomi used her personal email on accident for her resume which is called: [email protected] but they hired her anyway because they desperately needed someone with excel skills

Naomi's corporate style is inspired by her mom who used to be a corporate goth but naomi is not one (infact some of her office Fashion staples were given to her by her mom)

Christian's second reason for staying late is that he hates going home to an empty quiet small Appartment and prefers the feel of the big spaces of the office

Christian refuses not not wear any sort of jacket during his workday but once the day is over and everyone leaves he takes of his jacket loosens up his tie and takes out his bun to feel more comfortable

Naomi once saw christian at a museum staring really hard at a painting then she saw that painting printed on a corset the next day it made her laugh so much she had to buy it for work

One day Naomi wore tights with bats on them (vintage 😉) when she arrived at work and "happened" to get in the elevator with Christian he instantly said "nice bats" but then panicked and went into how much he loves bats for 10 mins straight. Naomi instantly fell for that panicked rizz lol

Next day she came to the office with some nice bat earing but swears its not related to Christian and his love of bats(it is) and its NOT HER GIVING HIM SIGNS OMG GUYS DO YOU WANT ME TO GET WRITTEN UP TO HR( she totally was)

How they got close and began working together:

After a particularly tough day at work of having to stay late and trying to get through to the accounting department because they wont budge on buying the expensive colored ink for thier printers and how not doing that will compromise the color quality plus almost calling the accounting manger an uneducated potato,

she decided to pass by the empty (or so she thought) accounting department to let out some cuss words at a poor empty desk, she saw Sinclare sitting there tie loosened and all and decided to try again and convince him to not cut the important supplies from the budget

How she thought that conversation went:

How it actually went:

After he recovered from that he told her he will help her write better more convincing reports to present to the department and from then on they became friends (who are trying so hard and failing not to fall for each other)

Aaand Thats all for now folks if you read all that i wanna say thank you i love getting super inspired like this its so much fun! Tell me what you think of the babes here im So excited!

Thank you again to kashisun for this extremely fun idea❤️

#ts4 #ts4 edit #clz reblogs #queue for you #sims 4 #the simblr office #ts4 ocs #ts4 office #ts4 corporate #ts4 meme #ts4 edits #my edits #my edit #oc #Christian sinclare #Naomi Marroquin im gonna add them to my characters page when i get home 👀

[ellecdc]

i just have to get out of my chest (sorry for using your board this way, ignore it if you want, but im desperly seeking for advice, (no preassure tho)).

i feel like im falling into a hole and this cycle of coming out and in is endless, im not as friendly as i used to, all my potential wasted bc im not even enjoying what im doing, my friendgropup is falling apart and everything just feels like shit bc its the end of the term and i gotta a lot of things to acomplish and im BARELY keeping my self sane (if you can call all of this bullshit that, i have the sensation that im just trying to convince myself) i YEARN for change of this shitty phase of my life, but everything its so abrupt and tiring. im fucking tired and i cant even properly sleep, at this point, i dunno what the fuck im doing.

again, im very sorry i just want to feel like someone's listening.

oh darlin', I'm so sorry things are feeling heavy right now

Life absolutely does feel really chaotic right now and I want you to know that you're not the only one feeling that way so your feelings are completely valid.

I can guarantee you that your 'potential' is not wasted; I've restarted my life/direction three times in my life and I'm still under 30 years old, and if I change another 6 or 7 by the time I'm 50, that would be okay too. Life doesn't have timelines or expiry dates; society makes us feel like we need to have out shit together from the second we step out of the womb and it is bullshit. You're allowed to not know what the hell you're doing, you're allowed to decide you've outgrown your friendships, you're allowed to decide perhaps this environment isn't for you and you're allowed to do all of those things however many times you want to.

during my first degree, I was extremely depressed (to a dangerous point), and my mum used to tell me to get through the next ten minutes. Once those ten minutes were up, make it through another ten. Then make it an hour. Then make it a day. Then make it a week.

It's sooooooo cliche but that whole "tough times don't last" is so true babes; life won't be exhausting forever.

I've also learned that sometimes, healing and growing feels like breaking at first - your life and your personality are reconfiguring and reorganizing and that's uncomfortable, but you'll be better for it.

hang in there lovie

[justice4sasuke]

Before I get into this I wanted to say someone said on one of my posts about Naruto and One Piece that they didn't feel their was a point in comparing them and I wanted to say my intention isn't really to compare Naruto and One Piece. My point is that Naruto is a standard shounen with some good ideas and points but is overall not very good and has lots of writing issues. One Piece is a standard shounen that is very well written with fewer issues. And because all of my problems with people on here seem to stem from people wanting to read Naruto differently than intended to make it look better I want to use One Piece as an example of what something that is just good writing on its own merits looks like.

Anyway, Iruka says chapter one that he thinks Naruto's struggles have given him empathy and I think that is funny because to me Naruto has never been a character with any emotional intelligence or kindness to be seen in him. The only time he has interest in other's emotions or feelings is when he can relate them to his own experience and this is 1. never addressed as a problem Naruto has and 2. is a consistent theme throughout the manga. Not only that but he never seems to be able to do anything helpful when he finds people like that (which could be an interesting commentary on Naruto's inability with personal interactions but once again the manga doesn't make note of it). Think how he treats Inari, think encouraging Hinata to fight Neji even though it endangered her because it personally triggered him, think how he ends up fighting Gaara and saying he will fight Sasuke after saying he relates to them (not that I think he's wrong for fighting Gaara since...he's attacking the village just, Choices Kishimoto for doing that more than once).

Now let me show an example of the main character for one understanding someone else's feelings and for two, shock and awe, helping them. Generally Luffy isn't a character anyone would describe using the word "intelligence" for on first blush, but reading the manga you will see in a lot of situations Luffy is actually incredibly emotionally intelligent. And honestly I think it's kind of funny that Kishimoto bothers making Iruka specifically says Naruto has empathy when he doesn't show it at least in a helpful way meanwhile no one says anything about Luffy being kind yet...here we are...just being shown things instead of told.

Anyway, here's the example. This one is from early in the manga and I chose one that involves a whale instead of a person just to really drive the point home.

The crew meets (and gets eaten by...look it's a whole thing okay) a whale (Laboon) and the lighthouse watcher/former doctor/whale caretaker (once again...it's a whole thing), Crocus, tells them the story of how this whale was waiting for his friends, a different pirate crew, to sail around the world and return to him, but it's been 50 years and Crocus believes the crew has abandoned the whale and Laboon, disbelieving this, rams his head against the Red Line (it's a land mass that circles the entire world...listen I can't be explaining the intricacies of OP's world building just for this post), seriously injuring himself in his attempts to break through and find his friends. Luffy, for lack of anything else to do I guess (if he could just intuit the problem and do something about it without listening to a whole ass tale he would, trust), listens though as usual the energy he's giving is "no thoughts, head empty".

But the next thing you know! Luffy has broken of the ship's mast (for some reason...) and is running up the whale to stab the mast into Laboon's latest slamming-his-head-into-a-wall-of-earth wound (in case you can't tell I'm not showing all the panels thus all the explaining).

Laboon is in pain and attacks, but Luffy fights back.

Luffy stops the fight by declaring it a draw!

Well, it looks like their match isn't settled so they will have to fight some other time. Luffy declares that they are rivals and after they sail around the world (like Laboon's previous crew of pirate friends) they will come back and Luffy and Laboon can have a rematch.

Luffy even paints their...uh, his version of their Jolly Roger on Laboon's head where his scars are and says he can't ram his head against the Red Line because that will erase the contract. This gives something else for Laboon to look forward to rather than him needlessly waiting for his friends to return. And it works! Every time we see Laboon in little asides or cover stories after this he is happily waiting for the Straw Hats at the lighthouse with Crocus. (And in case anyone was wondering his pirate friends and the Straw Hats can't just bring him with them because he's a giant fucking whale and they are circling the entire globe through dangerous waters, also the sky, also the bottom of the ocean, also fighting the government, also getting flung across the globe, and various islands.)

And what really REALLY touches me about this exchange is that Luffy knows he can't replace Laboon's previous pirate crew of friends. He can't just say "I'll be your friend" to fix this. So instead he positions himself as Laboon's rival, not replacing the friends Laboon is still waiting for or belittling his bond with them (and trust me...it's a bond 😢). And in case you're wondering does this somehow connect to Luffy's sad past and that's why he's doing this??? No. His sad backstory isn't anything like this. He's just doing it because it's the kind thing to do and if you're trying to do something and Luffy likes you he will do everything he can to help you.

#anyway read one piece #is going to be my tag for this nonsense #me every time: cries in whale

[canvas-madness-txc]

Ask and You Shall Recieve... Sometime Next Year

[Underfell Papyrus x Reader- Winter Edition]

"SHOW ME WHAT'S BEHIND YOUR BACK."

You stood in front of Papyrus with an idiotic grin on your face.

"Papyrus there's nothing behind my back," you lied.

"I KNOW YOU'RE LYING JUST SHOW ME," he replied.

"Okay!"

"THANK YOU WAIT—" he cut off. Your grin grew wider as you threw the snowball. Direct hit. Papyrus stumbled back. Trying to hide his shock with exasperation, he wiped his face.

"I TAKE IT THAT IS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SHOW ME."

"Yeah!"

"WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

"Why can't you appreciate my sense of humor," you replied.

"BECAUSE YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR USUALLY INVOLVES SOME SORT OF GAG THAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH."

You shrugged. It was a little on the nose, but he wasn't wrong. You were about to speak. Then, you noticed something behind Papyrus. You felt your SOUL falling out of your body.

"Uh..Papyrus?"

"YEAH?"

"You might want to turn around."

"OKAY?" He turned around. If skeletons had blood, he would have lost it all from his face.

Undyne stood in front of the both of you. In reach of her arms was the largest snowball ever created by human or monster.

"UNDYNE DON'T YOU DARE!" You could feel the tension and you knew Papyrus could feel it too. Undyne had the tendency to turn things to the...extreme. You learned that after her first cooking lesson.

"Too late!"

"RUN FOR IT!"

Everything else was a blur after that. The snow blurred your vision as you attempted to escape the horrible mess that was Undyne's snowball.

The first clear memory was sitting in Toriel's living room. You sat in a circle with your friends. You, Papyrus and Unyne were on the couch. Sans sat in a nearby chair and Frisk sat on the floor with Flowey. There was silence, barely tuned out by Toriel making pie in the background. It was Papyrus who spoke first.

"UNDYNE, YOU ARE THE WORST."

"Yeah, yeah I know. You've told me like 50 times."

"STILL!" They stopped talking for a while. You shivered. That snowball had its effects. Papyrus seemed to notice. He slid a blanket towards you. Gratefully, you wrapped it around yourself.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, HUMAN?" You nodded. The TV clicked on and you saw Frisk switching through holiday shows. Undyne explained to Toriel what happened as you were all handed a slice of pie. Taking a bite, you felt like you should say something. He seemed to be staring off.

"You okay?"

"YES. DON'T WORRY. I'M ONLY BONES, I CANNOT GET HYPOTHERMIA. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD WORRY ABOUT GETTING ILL YOURSELF."

"Okay. I'm just asking you look like your just staring off."

"YES. I JUST... HAVE A LOT ON MY MIND."

"Like what?"

"WELL HOW UNDYNE COULD MAKE THAT ABNORMALLY LARGE SNOWBALL, FOR ONE. BUT SOME THINGS ARE BETTER LEFT UNANSWERED," he joked. Undyne punched him in the arm.

"I heard that!" Papyrus rubbed the spot where Undyne punched him. You smiled and leaned over next to him.

"Anything else."

"WELL THERE IS WHY EVERY INCONVENIENCE HAPPENS TO ME," he said.

"I don't know about that either. Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's just Undyne," you replied. He smirked. Undyne attempted to throw a couch cushion at you in retaliation. That was short- lived by Toriel's glare. You moved in closer with Papyrus. He noticed but made no attempt to resist. In fact, he seemed to welcome it. The TV played holiday specials that you watched to pass time. Sans was fast asleep in his chair. Undyne left to do something else. Toriel had put Frisk and Flowey to bed. You were alone with Papyrus. Neither of you said anything, yet it felt more comfortable than any conversation could.

"HUMAN."

"Yeah?"

"HOW LONG DO YOU THINK I WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH THESE RANDOM INCONVENIENCES WHEN WE TRY TO HAVE A NICE TIME."

"I don't know. Maybe next year?" Papyrus groaned.

"AT THIS RATE YOU MIGHT AS WELL SAY IT WILL NEVER END. I'M BARELY GETTING BY THIS YEAR!" He leaned back. You grinned.

"I guess we'll just have to wait until to then." You and Papyrus sat quietly. Slowly you began to drift off as well. Papyrus fixed the blanket over you. The world was quiet. You thought of what would happen next year. Maybe Papyrus was right and whatever force of bad luck would follow him everywhere.

You would wait for next year to find out.

#yes again #undertale #papyrus #underfell #underfell papyrus #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell fanfiction #my fic