#( and look at that sweater! it has deer on it! )

[truearchangel]

Art Commissioned from @diistortion (glitchmoth).

Do not reblog without permission.

[cervidaecorpse]

Thank you @lazyheartcomputer for giving me ideas. :)

I'm at a crossroads with Phaser's coat and in the hopes of finding a friend, I found a worse enemy. Braids.

[notlongtolove]

joy sneaks in

you're chosen to host the BAU's annual christmas party at your apartment, where spencer's books line your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry. the days leading up to the party are a blur of stuffing his things into every drawer and cupboard you can find. it’s your mess. your life together. and it’s everything.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: domestic! and also a christmas party! less on the party and more on how spencer and bau!reader suck at lying though; which make for some humorous moments.

word count: 3.8k

note: i wrote this awhile back and felt like posting it too. honestly a tad bit dramatised for comedy's sake but whatever i love domesticity and nervous!spencer. and it was fun writing them flounder about.

a line: For the first time, the thought of being home doesn’t feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.

joy does not arrive with a fanfare on a red carpet strewn with the flowers of a perfect life joy sneaks in as you pour a cup of coffee - donna ashworth

It starts innocuously enough—a draw from Hotch's coffee mug, a simple slip of paper pulled out in front of the team, the scrawl of your name on it in black pen, and the pause before your name is announced in his unmistakably measured tone. “Looks like you’re hosting the Christmas party this year.”

Derek grins, his laugh a low rumble. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he drawls, shooting you a look that’s practically dripping with amusement.

You feel all the eyes on you, and the weight of it sinks into your chest. Your first instinct is to swallow it down, play it cool, try not to look at Spencer. Hosting a party means opening up your space— the space that’s been shared with Spencer for the last six months. Your apartment, which has slowly morphed into a mix of the two of you, a messy blend of both your lives—where his books spill off your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry, where his favourite mug has a place in your cupboard.

Derek leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk a beacon for trouble. “Better start tidying up, huh?”  You laugh it off, aiming for nonchalance but his teasing lands squarely in your chest. Your heart does that familiar flip when your gaze slips, unbidden, to Spencer who to your dismay, is standing there with his eyes ever so slightly widened like a deer caught in the headlights. You can feel the team’s teasing smiles from every corner of the room, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. But beneath their teasing, there’s an edge. Suspicion. They’ve been suspecting for weeks, piecing together the small clues you’ve been desperately trying to keep under wraps. 

And why wouldn’t they? The truth is, you’ve been dodging their invites lately, throwing out flimsy excuses about “errands” or “early mornings” that didn’t quite stick. At first, it was the occasional “I’ve got other plans”, but it became more frequent, more noticeable until even Derek had started to raise an eyebrow. He’d started poking at the seams of your alibis weeks ago, slouching against your desk with an eyebrow arched in pure disbelief. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he’d said. “What gives? You’ve gone full hermit mode on us.” You’d brushed it off, offering up a half-hearted excuse about how you’ll definitely join them next week, but Derek didn’t look convinced. And neither did the rest of the team. They weren’t blind, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was something—or rather someone you weren’t telling them about. 

Then there was Garcia, sidling up to you with that twinkle in her eye that only ever meant trouble. “Spill,” she demanded, hands on her hips. “Who is he? And when do I get to give him the Penelope Garcia Official Seal of Approval™?” You had laughed, and tried to deflect with a vague answer about how busy things had been. “Whoever he is, he better be worth it, because you”—she jabs a finger at you with exaggerated flair—“never skip a night out. Ever. We’re talking borderline-unbreakable attendance!” 

You bite back a smile, your mind flickering to those wild nights—sweaty dance floors, drinks flowing, laughter that echoed until dawn. It’s still a little surreal to think you’ve turned into one of those girls—the kind who would happily trade a night out with friends for a quiet evening in with their boyfriend. That was never your style. It was always a point of contention with past boyfriends. They always wanted more of your time, wanted more of your presence, but the idea of slowing down for someone else always felt like a compromise.

But somehow, with Spencer, it doesn’t quite feel like you're giving up anything at all. The simple, quiet moments with him have a gravity you never expected. Cooking dinner together while music hums softly in the background, curling up on the couch with a movie you’ve both seen a dozen times, or just sitting in comfortable silence as he reads and you scroll through your phone. The domesticity, the softness, the ease of it all—it feels complete. With Spencer, those quiet evenings aren’t boring. They’re grounding. For the first time, the thought of being home doesn’t feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.

Honestly, you don’t really know how the team hasn’t put two and two together yet. Maybe it’s because you and Spencer had always been close—it was easy for them to chalk it up to that. Since you’d joined a year ago, it just felt natural to click with him, the two of you always slipping into the same rhythm. You were closest in age, after all, and the team had seen you trading inside jokes over takeout on stakeouts, hunched over books in the quiet moments after cases. In their eyes, it was harmless, a friendship born of long hours and shared exhaustion—Not that that came without teasing. 

The question was always there, floating just beneath the surface of their casual remarks. Words unspoken, a line uncrossed. That is, until a tense night in Texas where you had gotten far too close to an unsub. The team had gotten to you in time of course, they always do. But that didn't help shake off the lingering memories of the encounter as you stared out the window of the jet. It was so simple—a quiet look, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb gently tracing over your trembling fingers as you looked out the window trying to dispel the the thoughts of whatever had happened just hours ago—and suddenly, it was like every wall you’d both put up had just vanished. His touch held a weight that words couldn’t carry, and in that touch, something between you shifted, settling into a place neither of you had been willing to acknowledge before. Looking back, maybe you’d both felt it coming long before, but neither of you had dared to say it out loud. 

You and Spencer had made the decision together—keep things quiet a little while longer. It wasn’t the right time. Not yet. You wanted to savour the privacy of your stolen moments: his hand brushing yours during late-night coffee runs, your head resting on his shoulder as you both tried to survive the tail-end of a grueling case. It was fragile, precious. You could already hear the laughter, the surprise, the “We knew it!” and the endless questions about how long it had been going on, how you kept it from them, how you didn’t tell them sooner. And you could already feel the weight of that—how you’d both be under a microscope in a way you just weren’t ready for. You liked the privacy, the simple, quiet moments that only the two of you shared. It was yours, together, something no one else needed to know about just yet.

The days leading up to the party are a blur of frantic cleaning, shoving Spencer’s belongings into anywhere they can fit. “Emily’s a hawk with this stuff,” Spencer mutters, half-buried in a pile of mismatched socks and paperbacks. It had started with a few quick attempts at tidying up, but soon it turned into a frenzy of stuffing things—his things—into every drawer and cupboard you can find trying to make your place look like you’re just you. 

You hold up a pair of slippers with a dubious look. “Do these scream, ‘man secretly living here’?” You hesitate, then stuff them into your wardrobe anyway. “Hotch will see the shoes. He’s thorough.” At one point, Spencer just starts throwing random clothes into a duffel bag with a kind of desperate determination, muttering something about how “Derek knows way too much about my wardrobe”. Despite the chaos, there’s laughter—giddy, shared moments, like when Spencer hisses in horror at your attempt to cram his gift—an English copy of War and Peace—under the coffee table. “That’s sacrilege,” he whispers furiously, clutching the book to his chest as if shielding it from harm. You have to bite back a grin.

There’s a particular moment though, when you’re crouched beside the couch again, frantically trying to shove a few stray novels underneath the coffee table hoping they’ll blend in with the meticulously arranged stack of Architectural Digest magazines you’d placed there purely for ‘decorative purposes’. Spencer suddenly peeks out from the bedroom, his eyes wide with alarm, his expression a mix of disbelief and panic. “Hey, can you, uh, maybe not put those under the coffee table?” he whispers urgently. 

You pause, halfway through your task, and blink up at him. “Why?”

“It’s just—” He looks around frantically as though an ominous presence has settled around you. “They will know. They’ll know,” he repeats, shaking his head, the weight of some unspeakable doom settling over him. It’s all you can do not to burst out laughing. You try to keep the situation light, but then you see the look in Spencer’s eyes. This is serious business. 

And you nearly lose it, stifling a laugh so hard it hurts. The sheer absurdity of the situation.  Yet, beneath the humour, there’s something grounding about it—in the middle of the chaos, the intimacy of it all hits you harder than you expected. This isn’t just a mess; it’s your mess. Your life together. And it’s everything.

By the time the day comes and the team arrives, the apartment looks borderline staged. You feel a little more prepared—almost confident even. You breathe a little easier, relieved that all the obvious signs have been concealed. You act casual, ushering them in with drinks and snacks, but the sharp-eyed profilers in the room are already picking up on things you’ve missed. Rossi’s gaze flickers to the second set of keys on the hook. JJ raises an eyebrow at the coffee machine by your counter. You don't drink coffee. And Derek? He’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary, leaning against the wall and watching it all unfold.

“Nice place,” he says smoothly, his tone loaded. Rossi’s eyes fall on the meticulously organized bookshelf, your heart stutters. “War and Peace,” he says, picking up the hefty copy with a raised brow. “Yours?” 

You freeze, your stomach sinking, silently cursing yourself for giving in to Spencer’s insistence that it was too precious to be shoved under the dusty coffee table. It had seemed fine at the time, but you should’ve known better. 

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “Mine. I’m really, uh, passionate about Tolstoy.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Since when?

You flounder, trying to remember any of Spencer’s ramblings about the book that you may or may not tune out at times. Your mind races as you remember brief mentions about symbolism and war and societal constraints. “Since, um…well, you know, Tolstoy is…deep. About…symbolism. And…life.”

Spencer, bless him, is standing behind them in your kitchen, making desperate hand signals to help you out. He subtly taps his chest, mouthing “individualism,” then points at his head, clearly trying to convey something intellectual that’s just not coming through. His hands flutter around like he’s illustrating the grandness of Russian literature, and you do your best to follow his cues. You latch onto it like a life raft. “Individualism and thinking about—uh—society!” You nod vigorously, wishing you could disappear into the floor. Emily eyes you, smiling a little too knowingly. Spencer, meanwhile, is practically acting out War and Peace like a mime in the background, pretending to hold a musket, then making exaggerated ‘thinking’ gestures, trying to help you navigate this act. 

“I just love Tolstoy’s exploration of, uh, individual identity within societal constraints…” you manage, brows furrowing as if trying to convince even yourself of the words spilling out. Rossi’s brow lifts, skepticism dancing in his eyes, but he says nothing, clearly amused as he watches you scramble, letting you dig yourself a little deeper. He’s David Rossi for a reason—The man’s silence is practically weaponized, making you ramble on and on, as if you’ll somehow stumble your way into a believable explanation. You’re nervous-rambling now and you can feel yourself grasping at threads, scrambling to remember something—anything—that sounds remotely convincing. You start stumbling over a vaguely remembered plot point and that’s when Spencer starts making his way towards you from the kitchen, grimacing as you butcher the story. He walks toward you almost as if to steady you, a silent plea for you to stop digging yourself a bigger hole than you already have. “Yeah, well… it’s, uh, definitely a classic,” he says, stepping in.

Spencer subtly coughs behind his hand, catching Derek’s attention for just a second—enough to let you scramble for closing line. But the team’s smirks only grow. “Well,” Emily says with a laugh, “if you’re such a big fan of this Tolstoy guy, why don't you tell us your favorite passage hm?” You try not to cast a desperate look Spencer’s way. Spencer opens his mouth like he’s about to cut in, but Derek catches his attention with a look that says, Don’t even think about it, Spence.

Their eyes dart between the two of you, waiting for something. You can feel the tension building. Spencer stands there looking on, probably trying to telepathically send you the correct Tolstoy quote—or any Tolstoy quote at this point, but you’re lost in a sea of flailing words and desperate thoughts.

“Uh, no, actually, I don’t have a favorite passage,” you finally stammer. “It’s just, you know, the themes are really profound.”

Emily crosses her arms and gives you a once-over, clearly reveling in whatever spectacle just unfolded. “Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, Rossi smoothly redirects the group’s attention to the kitchen, likely throwing you a lifeline to salvage what little dignity remains. You and Spencer exchange glances, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smile. It’s a private little conspiracy you two have shared for half a year, but now, as the night wears on, it’s starting to feel like the universe has other plans.

It doesn’t help that your team is sharp—they catch everything, a roomful of profilers who thrive on details, and tonight, every small habit, every casual touch seems magnified. Garcia narrows her eyes when she spots Spencer absentmindedly reaching to fix the crooked frame on the shelf. “You know where that goes, huh, Boy Wonder?” she teases, winking, and Spencer mumbles something about “aesthetic consistency,” looking thoroughly flustered.

You try to brush it off, laughing along with her, but then there’s Hotch, eyeing the stack of board games in the corner, the ones you both picked out last month on a whim. “Didn’t know you were into game nights,” he comments. “Oh, yeah. Huge fan of… Scrabble,” you say, your voice a little too high, trying not to look at Spencer, who’s doing everything he can to stifle a laugh. 

You can practically hear the thoughts running through his head, probably remembering the night you’d blown up at him after he beat you four times in a row with a ridiculously pretentious winning word—quixotic, no less. You’d been so mad, you’d tossed your tiles and stormed off like a petulant child. Now, judging from the way he's trying to hide his grin, the twitch at the corner of his lips, it's clear he hasn’t forgotten the fiery aftermath either. You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. 

Your life with him has become this strange, endearing mix of shared routines and accidental collections. Where he’s meticulous, you’re spontaneous, always flying by the seat of your pants and, at times, leaving him with a resigned sigh when you’ve left your keys in places you never should. It’s a quiet chaos, but it works. And now, as you stumble through the evening, every little piece of your life— your lives are flashing under the team’s increasingly suspicious gaze. 

JJ picks up a scarf lying casually on the floor, half-tucked beneath one of your jackets. She holds it up with a curious look. “Hey, Spence, this yours?” Spencer’s heart skips a beat, and he quickly tries to school his expression, but the wide-eyed panic is hard to hide. He looks at the scarf as if it’s just been resurrected from the depths of his lost belongings. “Oh thanks!” he says, dramatically, “I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” He reaches for the scarf with an eagerness that betrays his attempt at nonchalance, fumbling with it awkwardly. “I thought I’d lost it,” he adds, his words tumbling out in an over-explained rush as his fingers fuss with the fabric.

JJ doesn't buy it. Not for a second. “Funny, I thought you brought it with you today,” she says, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. “Since, you know, it’s right here by the door.”

Spencer freezes again, scrambling for a response. “Right... yeah, that—that makes sense. Of course.” He forces out a laugh, the sound more nervous than casual, and wraps the scarf around his neck with an exaggerated flourish. “Good to have it back,” he adds weakly, trying and failing to look composed.

JJ just shakes her head, her grin widening. “Sure, Spence. Whatever you say.” She watches him for a moment longer, clearly amused by the whole thing, before finally turning away, letting him stew in his overdramatic act. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Spencer breathes a sigh of relief, but his cheeks are still tinged with pink, and he can’t help but glance nervously over at you hoping you’re doing a better job than him at keeping this increasingly bad act up. 

By the time Garcia corners Spencer in the kitchen, her grin is practically predatory. “You guys are terrible at this, you know.” Spencer looks all too comfortable setting dishes away for someone who has only ever been to your place 'once or twice'. Spencer sighs, defeated, but there’s a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you across the room. “Yeah,” he says, more to himself than to her. “We are.” Spencer, at least, seems resigned, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you across the room, fumbling as you desperately try (and fail) to explain away a forgotten pair of mismatched socks by the door—somehow "yours" now, despite them clearly being too big.

You can feel your cheeks burning as the night progresses, their eyes catching every little detail—his fingers brushing against yours when he hands you a drink, the way you absentmindedly drape your arm behind him on the couch as the night winds down after one too many said drinks. The team exchanges knowing glances, soft chuckles bubbling up around you as they take in every stray look and subtle movement between the two of you. 

As you say your goodbyes and thank yous, it’s clear you’ve been thoroughly caught. Emily snickers, shaking her head as she slips on her coat. “You two are adorable,” she murmurs, grinning without trying to hide it. You clear your throat feigning innocence, trying to look casual. She turns back with a sly smirk, her voice laced with amusement. “So Spence," she asks, challenging, "You staying the night?”

The room falls silent. They all know. You both know they know. Spencer, ever the professional, tries to brush it off. “I’ll help clean up,” he says nonchalantly, but the team is already rolling their eyes, clearly seeing right through the act. They’ve been in this business long enough to recognize the signs.

You try to come up with something clever but Spencer knows it’s game over. He steps in beside you and there’s that look on his face, that soft, earnest expression he gets when he’s about to confess something—whether it’s a fact about astrophysics or a half-hidden truth he’s been holding close. “Alright, alright” he says, glancing at you for reassurance. “You got us.”

Spencer slips his hand into yours, his fingers warm and steady, grounding you in this moment. A round of knowing laughter echoes through the room, with Derek clapping Spencer on the back, Garcia gasping dramatically, and Rossi chuckling, muttering something along the lines of “about time”.

Spencer squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

The team leaves you with a final round of cheers and teasing winks, and as the door clicks shut, you turn to Spencer, his smile mirroring your own. You hear the unmistakable whoops and cheers from outside. A laugh bubbles up inside you.

Once the house quiets and the last footsteps fade away, Spencer pulls you into his arms. The soft glow of the christmas lights he'd helped you put up yesterday creates a warm halo around him as he looks down at you, that adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Guess the secret’s out,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek.

You shake your head, a little amused at how badly you’d tried to cover up something everyone already knew. “We really are terrible at this,” you admit.

“Well,” he replies in a low voice, “it could’ve gone worse.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. “Think they bought it, even for a moment?”

“Not a chance sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But it was fun watching you try.”

You lean into him, the warmth of his touch, his presence grounding you in a way you never expected but now can't imagine living without. You look around the room, taking in the space you’ve shared together. Sure, most of his belongings are still hidden away, tucked somewhat haphazardly in the cupboards or behind closed doors, but there are traces of him everywhere. It’s in the small things—the little hints of Spencer imprinted into the fabric of your life.

There are hints of Spencer in the kitchen sink, the one he fixed when it started leaking a few months ago. You had been ready to call a plumber, but Spencer had insisted he could handle it. He always does.

There are hints of Spencer in how you've stopped arranging your plates a certain way just for aesthetics because he'd proven how much more convenient it was to stack them according to how often you used them.

There are hints of Spencer in the stain on the couch from pasta night three weeks ago, a mishap that still makes you both laugh whenever you catch sight of it.

There are things only the two of you can understand. A code only the two of you can decipher. Small, unnoticed details that no one else can see—No matter how observant they are, no matter how well they think they can read you. 

And so maybe it's okay that the secret you’ve shared for months now belongs to the people who matter most. Because as you think of these little hints of Spencer—the way he’s subtly woven himself into your life and you into his—you realize that some things do get to stay your own little secret after all. And in that, there’s something beautiful, something that’s just yours.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[luveline]

can I pls pls pls get an other single dad Spencer I'm on my knees here jade baby! I would love a fic where they r dating and reader comes over and basically Amy is like ur his gf?? But I thought u were my best friend?! And she's upset and reader is just like babe I can be both! Obvs we r bffs! And then May be she asks Spencer if she can take amy out of ice cream or something just the girls

thank you for your request! fem, 1.4k

Peeling Amy’s grapes is a repetitive, calming task. You press your nail to the top of the grape where the stalk had been, carving away a sliver of the fruit as you pinch the skin and pull. It comes away in small, triangular pieces that you put in the bowl on your lap. 

You put the naked grape in Amy’s hand. They’re seedless, so all she has to do is chew. 

“Thank you,” she says, distracted by the TV. 

“You’re welcome.” You move to another grape. 

You’re sitting together on the couch in Spencer’s apartment. Spencer sits at the dining table across the way, writing a letter, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Bright afternoon sunlight ebbs in through the window behind the kitchen sink to kiss his arms and illuminate his workspace, a beam of it catching his arm, his fine hairs like strands of gold. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah?” 

“Are we still going to the library?” 

“Yeah…” His writing gets very fast. He finishes it off with a smile and a resounding period, picking the paper up and folding it in a clean half. “I can post my letter at the same time.” 

You watch him give his hair a vigorous scratching as he stands. “I’m gonna go get a sweater,” he says, making for his bedroom. 

You follow him until he’s gone. Amy hums, kid-talk for please pay attention to me. 

“Oh, sorry. Forgot your grapes.” 

“Why do you look at him like that?” 

You smile shyly. “Uh, like what?” 

Her brown eyes widen as her eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t know. You looked at him for a long time.” 

“I guess I like looking at him, ‘cos I really like him. You’re beautiful because of so many things, but your dad is part of the reason. He’s beautiful, so you’re beautiful.” 

She wrinkles her nose, but she’s smiling. “You really like him?” she whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you whisper back, “he’s my boyfriend.” 

Amy winces hard. “What?” she asks. 

She’s suddenly and emphatically incredulous. You take her hand, but she takes it right back and stands up on the couch. She gives you a weird look as she backs away, sitting heavily on the armrest. “He’s your boyfriend?” 

“Why do you think I’m always here these days?” 

You know you’ve said the complete wrong thing the moment it leaves your mouth. You’re honestly shocked she didn’t know; Amy is a very smart little girl, and you were under the impression she knew about you and her father being a couple. But she’s also just a little girl, with big feelings. 

“I thought you were here to see me,” she says softly. 

You push the bowl of grapes across the coffee table, remorseful. “Amy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I come here to see you, too, of course I do, I love spending time with you.” 

Her eyes fill with tears. She’s not a crocodile crier, at least not when you’re around. You know these to be the genuine deal, and that makes it much worse for you. 

“Babe, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean it like that, I promise. I’m here to see you, too, it’s not just to see your dad.” 

“Because we’re best friends,” she says. 

“Of course we are.” You open your hands. “Of course.” 

She finally takes your hands, despite her tears. Her face has turned dark with a hot flush, embarrassment twisting her lips into an expression that turns your heart. 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you whisper. “Can you forgive me? You’re so important to me, Amanda.” 

Spencer appears behind her looking like a deer caught in bright headlights. You ignore him, giving Amy’s fingers a rolling squeeze. 

“I thought we were best friends– and– and–” She sucks in a shaky breath as a fresh crest of tears fall. “I thought you were here to see me.” 

“I am here to see you.” 

You’ve done loads of things with Amy without Spencer’s involvement. If he sleeps in, you and Amy watch cartoons together in your pyjamas eating breakfast burritos. You’ve babysat her on short notice, you had her for a sleepover once so he could give a talk in Michigan. You and Amy do tons of things without her father, like eating peeled grapes, and jigsaw puzzles while he reads, and girl talk. You cuddle. 

Poor girl. 

“Amy, I love you.” 

“You do?” 

“So much!” You wipe the tears from her chin. 

“I didn’t know that– that dad was your boyfriend,” she says bashfully. 

“Me and your dad started as best friends, that’s why. He’s my second bestest friend ever.” 

“Who’s number one?” she asks. 

You poke her chest gently. “Who do you think?” 

She nods and looks down. She wipes her cheeks, and that’s what upsets you the most in the whole ordeal. Her hands look small and uncoordinated. 

“You okay, angel?” Spencer asks, coming up from behind to hug her. 

“Sorry,” she says. 

“It’s okay. Crying is okay,” he murmurs. “What happened?” 

“I didn’t know you were boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Spencer says, giving her arm a soft up and down, “when I told you we were dating I should’ve been more clear about what that means. I’m very sorry we confused you.” 

“It’s good!” she says, sniffling, pressing a little sob into Spencer’s chest. 

You bite your cheek. You really hadn’t meant to do this to her, just she’s as empathetic as her father. She’s a bubbling mess against him. 

You look at Spencer. It’s your fault, you misspoke, and you’re asking him to save you as a kindness. 

“What’s making you cry, sweetheart?” he whispers, pulling her right into his chest. 

“I just wanted to be her best friend.” 

“You are,” he whispers, nose against her temple, “I might be her boyfriend, but you think she likes me so much she’s here every single weekend? No way. She sees me every day at work, she doesn’t need to come over if all she wants to do is see me. But you know who she doesn’t see at work?” 

“Me…” 

“Exactly. She comes here every weekend to be with you, so we can all be together. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she says, taking in another shaky breath. 

“Are you crying because you’re still upset, or because it’s just a feeling?” he asks softly, slowly. “It’s okay if you’re still sad, but maybe we need to have some water?” 

“Okay,” she says, stretching it into one big cry. 

“Could I give you a hug?” you ask. You’re lost. 

She nods. Spencer says, “Okay, you guys hug and I’ll go get my Amy a glass of water.” 

You fold Amy into an embrace carefully. She’s heavy with her upset but she wants the hug, her arms at your sides as she rubs her nose against your shoulder. “Amy,” You say, taking a pause to brush her hair from her warm neck, “I’m sorry, angel. I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

She sounds just like her dad as she replies. “I didn’t mean to cry.” 

“Well, that’s okay! If I thought you didn’t want to be my friend either I would be just as upset.” 

“You would?” 

“Amy, do you know how much I love seeing you? I would sit here and watch TV and peel grapes with you every day of the week, I’d love to…” You hope Spencer won’t mind what you’re about to suggest. “In fact, maybe you and I need to do more things together, what do you think? When was the last time we went to Penny’s Ice Cream Parlour?” 

She looks up at you with love and apt suspicion. “You just want me to feel better.” 

“Of course I do. I should be allowed to take my favourite girl for ice cream, right?” 

Spencer hesitates in the kitchen with the fairy glass half full. You’re stroking Amy’s hair away from her neck, so sorry, and so lovely. He couldn’t want anything more in life than Amy, but if he got to choose, he would love to have you, and to have you treat her as you are now, nothing but affection in your touch as you soothe her overstimulation. “We can go alone?” Amy asks. 

“Sure, bubby, we can go just you and me. Banana splits?” 

Spencer loves her, but he loves ice cream, too. “Wait, why can’t I come?”

[the-nameless-poet]

My Fuzzy little Problem

summery : Somehow your boyfriend roped you into becoming an animagi alongside the marauders. And now you can't get enough of your Animagus form. You find it extremely comforting So you often like to hangout in your Animagus form.

James Potter x Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff.

You love roaming around in your animagus form, honestly a bit too much. And usually James is incharge while you turn into the furry little cuteness. And it's become so normal that the students at Hogwarts has started to believe that James has a little furry cat as his pet.

You're always sitting on his shoulder or sometimes even on the top of his head, apparently you find his unruly hair fluffy and comfortable. A lot of time you make him wear his hoodie backwards and just hang around in the hood and rub your little nose against his chin.

James also finds it extremely comforting when all you want to do is snuggle with him. He loves to cuddle up to you after his quidditch matches in your normal human body but sometimes when he wakes up he finds that you had shifted into your animagus form and had curled up on his chest emitting loud purrs in your sleep.

He would simply smile down at your cute kitten face and just hold you close to his chest, his extremely soft hoodie cuddling you closer as you wake up with a big yawn because of the little shift in his body.

Even when James is roaming around the black forest in his animagus form, you love to sit on the back of the elegant stag and explore the forest with your curious eyes, meowing when you see something interesting. And after a while Prongs would sit you both down under a large tree on top of a cliff that you both found one day, while strutting around the forest lands, as you played with his giant magnificent antlers. Climbing up on them or finding a perfect curve to hang between or just tap them with your fuzzy little paw. Prongs would bring his head down to lay on the ground and you'd gently walk up to him and boop or lick his snoot in affection as he looked unimaginably adorable with that innocent deer-like face and big brown doe eyes.

Today, was just another day for you. Though for James, it wasn't. It was Friday, meaning his quidditch practice. And as the year was nearing its end, the quidditch cup stood in the schedules of all students. Your finals had been completed, it was the last week before the summer holidays. James was working his arse off as the captain of the gryffindor quidditch team. He wanted to make sure that this year he will be the one bearing the quidditch cup in his hands. He wanted needed to feel that pride as he held the quidditch cup in the air, while looking at the beaming smile on your face as you sported a prideful glint in your eyes and gazed up at him.

But today maybe he had pushed his limits. He was exhausted and could barely move. All he wanted was to go back to his dorm and cuddle up to you.

While James was contemplating his life choices in his quidditch locker room. You were in need of a warm cozy Friday evening. After all you had worked very hard for last whole month preparing for your finals.

You entered James' dorm, knowing you won't find him there. So, you changed into your animagus form and entered his dorm.

At first you thought there was no one in the dorm present. But then you looked over at Rem's bed and saw him snuggled up against fuzzy blanket in his big sweater, his head tucked soundlessly in the fluffy pillow. You were best friends with marauders before you and James became a thing. So, it was normal for you to cuddle up to one of them. You decided that Remus' bed looked way much more cozy than James' as for now. So you made your way towards it.

You jumped up and landed right next to the sleeping Wolf's hand. You wiggled your way between his arms and he woke up slightly by the feeling of something shifting against him.

"Oh hi there." He mumbled sleepily as he shifted you in a more comfortable position and scratched lightly behind your ears and soon you were lulled to sleep.

An hour or so later you were woken up by a loud slam of door. Your body jerked in fear as you had been woken up very rudely by your boyfriend.

"Sorry, didn't know you were sleeping. But my hands are full..." James offered a sheepish smile as he set his broom and quidditch kit down.

You immediately hopped off Remus' bed and jumped on James as he sat down on his own bed for a while. He smiled down at you tiredly.

"Hey there, my fuzzy little problem." You meowed disapprovingly at that name. James chuckled, seeing the little scowl on your face.

"Alright. I won't call you that." He put his hands up in surrender as you showed off your claws.

James patted your head for a while and chatted with Remus about his new book. After a while he sat you down on his bed and giggled as you let out another disapproving meow.

"Sorry, bub. But I really have to take a shower and then we can cuddle, Kay?" As James went inside as you heard clomping of paws running towards you. Looked at the door and saw an overly excited black dog run up to you.

He looked up at you and you booped his snoot with your paw. He tried his fake attempts to clamp at your little paw and in return you smacked him on his head. It was yours and Sirius' way to say hello. James and Remus often found it weird but thought it was adorable none the less.

Padfoot soon went away and settled himself on Remus' bed as Remus scratched his belly and gave him patts.

By the time James returned you were curled up on his bed and Remus was cuddling with Padfoot and both had already fallen asleep.

James gently picked you up in his arms like a baby and you rested your head on his shoulder as he pulled out some blankets and pillows. After he was done, he laid you both down on the bed and you nuzzled your head in his biceps.

"Darling, can you turn back. I really need you to hold me. I'm tired." He mumbled. His lips pouted and his eyes were barely staying open. You turned back into your human form without missing a beat.

You quickly took James in your arms and laid his head on your chest as you gently ran your fingers through his curly hair, peppering kisses on his forehead.

As you gently rubbed your hand from the nape of his neck down to his shoulders you felt his breathing slow down and you looked down at him to see he was fast asleep with his head buried in your breasts wearing the most adorable look on his face as he exhaled slowly out of the curve of his pink lips.

And just looking at his sleeping form, you knew you were in complete love with this man. He was everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed.

"I love you." You couldn't help but whisper to him. And what you didn't expect was the lazy smile gracing his lips as he nuzzled further unconsciously in your chest.

[rafeysbambii]

hypnosis : s2!rafe has to handle some guys that were talking down on his bambi.

warnings : lots of cursing, rafe beats a group of guys up, a little nsfw at the end (not a lot but soon!)

story type : fic / drabble !

a/n : i’ve reached 280 followers! this is so mind blowing to me, thank you all so much for all of the support! i’m so glad you guys are enjoying these! i love you all so very much! and also, bambi calling rafe ‘my hunter’ is canon and i won’t be told otherwise.🤍

(you get it cause she’s the deer and he’s the hunter.. yeah.)

rafe loved bambi, but of course he wouldn’t admit it (even though it’s painfully obvious) out loud to anyone besides her. and that ladies and gentlemen is the reason why he spoils to the fuck out of her, new shoes, new clothes, trips to the zoo to see her weird looking animals, and even getting her little beetle car wrapped in a pretty light brown per her mention.

and he’d be damned if anyone were to disrespect him or his girl.

well today was like any other friday for the almost couple, bambi has driven to the country club to meet rafe so she could watch him play some rounds of golf - or mostly for the free drinks and watching his muscles flex with each swing.. but who’s business other than hers is that?

and also like usual, rafe had some work to do and ordered bambi to meet him at the country club, get a little flute of champagne to keep herself occupied, and just kick back and wait for him to arrive.

and she would’ve done just that…

if she didn’t hear a group of guys laughing obnoxiously at her and rafe’s table. but here’s the kick, she heard rafe’s name flow so effortlessly out of their mouths. “ — right, man i’m telling you, she’s hot as fuck, rafe is a lucky man but shit is she making him soft.. i mean i asked him if he could grab me some stardust, and you know what he told me?”

“he told me ‘i don’t do that shit anymore, don’t want my bambi getting involved with that.’ he’s pussy whipped!” she had heard about ‘stardust’, but of course rafe had told her ‘not to worry her pretty little head about it’, “man that pussy must be magical, cause you can’t catch me quitin that shit for a quiet bitch. he needs to go back to fuckin’ the girls with the big tits and never gave a fuck!”

that’s what really set bambi off, what made the tears flow from her big bug eyes, what made her run out of the country club and into her small car, and before she can even start it up, she’s violently sobbing into her hands to the lowered sound of ‘Picture you’ by Chappell Roan (queen mama.)

yet even with her favorite music artist playing in the back, she can’t help but tune it out on her drive all the way back to her home in tanneyhill, just a few blocks down from rafes house where he’s probably still finishing up his work, but she can’t help but not pay attention to it - or the fact that he’ll probably blow up her phone within seconds of arriving at the country club.

and her prediction was right, once she’s already rushed into her house, took off her cute checkered dress, white sweater and uggs that rafe had bought her, her phone was blowing up with messages from rafe, but she knew his friends were right, she’s soft… she’s holding rafe back, and now she knows.

from ; my hunter🤍

i’m here baby.

i ordered you that red drink with the cherry and red shit.

don’t remember what it’s called lmfao.

where are you?

???

hello?

bambi?

where are you bambi?

seen just now

she watches with ease as the texts bombard her phone, yet she clicks the electronic closed, leaving rafe worried that something had happened to her on the drive to the country club. but she doesn’t really care, she wants to be left in her solitude with her tears.

bambi is sleeping peacefully when shes suddenly awoken by a warm pair of hands rubbing at her back, but she doesn’t move an inch - who the hell is inside of her house? “bambi? there you are kid,” oh, she recognizes the voice — it’s her favorite if she’s gonna be honest, rafe.

“hm..” she hums softly, “where the hell have you been bambi? was waitin’ for you.” he slides into the bed, even after she shrugs her shoulders “what’s goin’ on with you bambi?” - she doesn’t have an answer for him, which makes her feel sick to her stomach — she wants to tell him, she really does, but she just can’t find the words.

“i’m not good enough for you… i-im…” that sentence alone makes rafes heart quiver, “what the — the hell are you talkin’ about bambi? why the fuck are you sayin’ that shit?” he grabs her chin, forcing her eyes on his blues - and he feels absolutely defeated when he sees the red, puffy doe eyes that add to her features.

“i heard some boys at the country club talking… t-the guys you play golf with that one night…” rafe already knew where this was going, and he wasn’t happy about it.

at all.

“and they said that i made you soft… and that my pussy must be magical and that’s the only reason you’re with me…” his heart shatters into a zillion little pieces when the words leave her words, how could anyone ever say that about her? someone so sweet, and caring? “that’s… that’s not true baby, you know that.”

“i don’t rafe… they’re right — im not like the girls you’ve had before, they’re more..confident, a-and pretty. i’m just… me.” rafe is holding every physical bone in his body not to storm over to the country club and beat them all to a pulp. “listen to me bambi.” he takes her face in his hands, his signet ring cold against her skin - but she doesn’t seem to care when he’s looking at her like she’s the only girl in his eyes (she is.)

“you’re everything i want honey, i never would’ve talked to you if i didn’t think you were interesting, i love you, you. not any of the other girls before you. you’re perfect bambi, and i won’t let anyone tell you otherwise. and yeah, they’re right — that pussy is magical.”

“rafey! don’t say it like that!” she slaps his chest as they both laugh together - peace, they’re at peace. “wait…” she pauses, looking up at rafe once he pulls her into his lap, “you… you love me?” rafe simply looks up at her, leaning forward to kiss at her neck softly, “yeah bambi, i love you.”

“so does that mean… i’m your girlfriend?” rafe is confused for a minute, “i thought we were already dating bambi.”

a beat of silence rains over the two.

“you never asked me rafey! how was i supposed to know!” her well manicured nails, courtesy of rafe - scratching at the back of his head, she loves rafe, a lot.. and up until this moment, she was completely under the impression that they weren’t in a relationship..

although they do, do a lot of couple things… like rafe decorating the passenger seat of his truck to bambi’s liking, or — or whenever she’s cramping, he brings her a strawberry milkshake from the shady diner in the cut that he absolutely hates going to, but for his bambi - he’ll walk to hell and back if she asked.

so… maybe she did kinda know.. but that’s not the point!

“fine then bambi, will you make me the happiest and luckiest man alive and be my girl?” for a moment, there’s a beat of silence between the two, before bambi is suddenly crying. “shit baby - didn’t mean to make ya cry angel face.” of course, he’s quick to wipe the tears and catch her lips in his, loving the feeling of her trying to catch up with him.

“yes rafey! yes i’ll be your girlfriend!” she exclaims in between wet kisses, the lock to their newfound relationship —. “good cause i wasn’t takin no for an answer.” he’s quick to lean forward, kissing her plump pink lips with an exaggerated smack “now i can kiss you as boyfriend and girlfriend, no more friendly kisses.” the both smile like innocent children as bambi curls into his side, exhausted with the days she had (she woke up, got her nails done, and then went home and took a nap before going to the country club.)

“go to sleep my bambi, i’ll be right next to you in the morning honey.” he doesn’t even realize she’s already asleep until her nose is gently twitching cutely, a small habit he picked up on over the few months - he absolutely adores it, and he adores her, and now..

it’s time to find the dicks who made his girl cry.

the country club is getting emptier and emptier by the minute as the women getting tipsy with their girlfriends, and the men chugging down beers while golfing exit to return back to their homes in tanneyhill. but rafe, is just getting started.

hes immediately identifying the group of guys who made his bambi cry - some tall, bulky and not hot guys. psshh, this would be easy for him. “sup man.” he says as he approaches the group, placing a hand on one of their shoulders in a super non threatening way. “what’s up rafe! yo pogue, get my friend a drink!” rafe stops the guy; by the name of Jordan before he can call the pogue waitress over.

“nah nah, i’m not here to drink fucker.” rafe licks over his lips, his blood practically bubbling over through his seething anger. “i’m gonna tell you this once and you’re gonna fuckin listen yeah?” rafe says, grabbing jordan by the collar and lifting him right off of his chair. “you ever fuckin talk about my bambi like that again and i’ll sew your mouth shut. she may not be crazy but i am.”

rafe drops the shaking guy right into the glossy tile grounds of the country club, flicking the rest off as he turns away — making sure to whisper a snarky remark under his breath.

and the entire ride back to bambi’s, he can’t help but grin wildly because he knows bambi doesn’t know how truly crazy he is — and how willing he is to kill anyone who crosses her without her even knowing it.

a / n : hello there! i’m sorry for taking such a long leave, i’ve been going through some stuff but this is my apology! i hope you enjoyed this, and ill be getting into more writing!

[shnowyfox]

Jollyformers AU (

so basically i turned the holiday themed au. i haven't had the time to flesh it out obviously. TFONE megop regardless of this au is Last Christmas by Wham!

lore! so instead of cogs they have sleigh bells! usually worn via a collar though harnesses are worn as well to hold more bells that are decorative only. Idk what im doing with transformation yet but i think either it's completely replaced by the bell's allowing flight, or, transformation into creatures to pull the sleigh (basically everyone has a beast alt, deer and ungulates being the most common) Optimus obviously being a reindeer, megatron (krampus) is a goat to fit with his krampus thing, b-127 (glee-127, Badassaclaus) is supposed to be elf like with his g1 style horns supposed to look like elf ears too but they can be seen as budding antlers as well, and elita I haven't drawn yet but she's either a reindeer too or gazelle. (also considering giraffe with that neck dayum girl)

"Prime" has been replaced with "Claus"

hats are just for jolly good fun. like this whole au. and a bit of religious healing. anything goes rlly.

and now a snippet of a rewrite I never was able to finish up. Some of this HAS been retconned. i'm still working at it. mainly the occupation and the backstory stuff. (Context: Bartholomeus is another name for Krampus i dont remember where or when but that's what Megatronus has been substituted with.)

Deer Trax: (chuckles) Okay, fellas! Thanks for the jolly start. You want to give me another one?

Sentry 1: You’re naughty!

Deer Trax: I’ll take that as a no.

Elf-16: (grunts) Hey! Watch where you’re going!

Sentry 1: Oh… What did you say, no-bell?

Elf-16: Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the elf who was behind you.

Sentry 2: What? Where’d he go?

Elf-16: The joyous red and blue elf? Has a big grin, merry cheer, gives off a yankee candle scent?

Sentry 1: Where is he?

Elf-16: He went that way.

Sentry 1: When I get my hands on that elf…

Elf-16: All right, all clear.

Deer Trax: Okay, D-16, I may be a little vanilla, but “Yankee ”? That is too far.

Elf-16: Let me guess. Chased out of the cookie jar?

Deer Trax: (laughs) Yeah. I had to jump out of a sleigh this time. Almost got an ouchie (laughs) It was wild.

Elf-16: And digging through fortune cookies is worth getting an ouchie?

Deer Trax: Yes, it is.

Elf-16: I need a new best friend.

Deer Trax: If there are clues in our recorded history that can help locate the North Star, they’re in the cookie jar.

Elf-16: Sentinelf Claus, the Sentinelf Claus, is up in the blizzard right now, risking his merriment for us in search of the Star.

Deer Trax: That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to help him.

Elf-16: Yeah, okay. (laughs)

Deer Trax: The sooner cookies bake again, the sooner we won’t have to make toys ourselves. Don’t you want to choose your own path, do whatever you want?

Elf-16: We’re toy makers. We make toys, that’s all.

Deer Trax: No, there has got to be something more I can do. I can feel it. (Dentistry?)

Elf-16: Oh, yeah? Like the time you had a “feeling” you could fly without a bell?

Deer Trax: You said you were never gonna mention that again.

Elf-16: Took me three days to dig you out of the snow. Your feelings get you in trouble.

Deer Trax: Yeah, yeah.

Elf-16: Just trust in Sentinelf Claus.

Deer Trax: I do trust in him. Hey, if we did have bells…

Elf-16: I’d fly hooves first into your chest

Deer Trax: I don’t like how fast you answered that. But listen, if you did kick me, I couldn’t give you this awesome Bartholomeus Claus thing I have here. It’s cool. I’ll give it to someone else.

Elf-16: What Bartholomoeus Claus thing?

Deer Trax: Ah, it’s nothing. Just a, you know, mint-condition Bartholomeus Claus sweater, first edition.

Elf-16: (gasps) What?

Deer Trax: If you don’t want it, I can just throw it away.

Elf-16: Throw it away? Don’t… That’s not funny. Let me see.

Deer Trax: Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna rip it.

Elf-16: You know, Sentinelf says Bartholomeus was the…

Deer Trax: The kindest Claus to ever live. I know, buddy. Looks good on you.

[zhongrin]

“you’re not going out like that.”

— you say with a pout and a glare.

or, you stop him before going out because of his clothes.

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, xiao, scaramouche, childe, diluc, pantalone

◇ tags ◇ modern!au, fluff, reader is not ‘controlling’ if that’s what you’re afraid of seeing

◇ a/n ◇ can you buy a zhongli irl off amazon or something i'm asking for a friend- /j

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli raises his eyebrows, questioning ambers seeking an explanation from you.

with a sigh, you stalk towards his side and pinch the thin material of his shirt, berating him nonstop over how the temperature has started to drop outside and how he’ll catch a cold if he doesn’t bundle up.

he lets you drag him back to the bedroom and smiles softly as you rummage through his coats and sweaters, all the while still lecturing him about the importance of his health now that you’re both getting older.

what you don’t know is that he does this purposefully so that you’ll fuss over him. call him whipped, but he adores seeing you care for him like a mother hen; he may trust your love in all its entirety, but he certainly doesn’t mind getting a reminder of it every now and then.

it’s the same reason why he leaves his tie a little crooked every morning: just so you could scold him for how he’s gotten lousy ever since you both got married. he would always chuckle and apologize, but inwardly he just can’t help it; surely all husbands want to be spoiled by their lovely spouse?

childe giggles and winks towards you before gesturing to his outfit with a flair as if he’s in a fashion show model which to be fair he kinda looks the part.

“awh, why not? don’t you want to show off how good this boyfriend of yours look?”

“you mean announce to the whole world that i’m dating a fuckboy? no thanks.”

the brunette pouts at the half-serious, half-joking expression on your face and positions his hands on his hips like a petulant child(e), “oh, i’m sorry that i’m hot and i’m unashamed of it! besides, what can they do? grope me?”

you roll your eyes and slip your hands through the wide gap by the sides of his clothes to grab onto his chest.

childe freezes like deer in headlights, but regains his composure quickly; in a blink, he gives you a playful grin, but before he can utter anything scandalous, you pull him into a kiss and uses the element of surprise to steal his breath away.

and when your boyfriend ends up sprawled under you on the couch fifteen minutes later, you don’t miss the winning smile and happy wrinkle of skin spread across his freckled cheeks.

honestly, he could’ve just told you (you know, like a normal person) if he didn’t actually want to go out, instead of always pulling stunts like this.

kunikuzushi stares at you with half his mouth open, clearly surprised and offended at your statement and the insults you blatantly threw his way right after.

what do you mean he looks like a sleazebag? sure, it’s a hoodie from yesterday(’s yesterday), but it looks fine! it smells bearable! it’s comfy! he’s too lazy to change out of it! not when it’s just a trip down to the nearby cafe!

archons, he’s just a common engineer who builds robots, not some high-strung profile in some fancy mafia organization… is what he insists, and he continues to groan and bemoans his fate even as you brought a change of clothes for him.

he might as well be a cat with how he bristles at your threat of running a bath for him, but he quietens when you double the threat with an offer to ‘scrub his poor scalp clean’.

“….. do it then,” he challenges, crossing his arms like a true brat™️, although his eyes are shining with excitement.

you two end up getting takeouts that night.

xiao pauses from putting on his watch and looks at you quizzically.

why would a dress shirt and slacks be an unacceptable fashion choice? last he checked, you were both just going to visit that favorite restaurant of yours.

the man blinks owlishly at the adorable way you stomp your feet and points to the accessories you’re wearing. he cracks a momentary smile when he recognizes them as the ones he bought for you last week; it’s just as he imagined, they look lovely on you. however, the said quirk of his lips disappears as you tell him that he’s forgotten to wear his matching ones even though he had promised to.

“ah,” he scratches his cheek, “i forgot… tsk, alright, alright, i’ll go change. this outfit won’t work with those colors, let me just-”

you end up late to your reservation and were unable to get a table, but seeing the content smile on your pretty lips when you saw the ‘date night!’ selfie you took on the fast food parking lot in his car, he thinks it’s all worth it.

your smile is always worth it.

“why not-”

“you’re a fashion disaster!”

diluc freezes and honestly if it was anyone else he would have ignored them and stormed off in embarrassment.

but this was you. you matter. your opinions matter. he doesn’t want to embarrass you.

“is… is it that bad?” he asks with a blush on his face as you throw his old coat onto the bed and unbuttons the plain shirt he always defaults to wearing.

your rich but struggling-with-fashion boyfriend watches and listens, as silent as a timid bunny, as you tell him the latest trend and the ‘boyfriend look’ or whatever it was called. he's just helplessly nodding and obeying as you hand him the change of clothes, hoping that will lessen the frown between your brows.

“is this a… bracelet?”

“it’s a choker, luc.”

“but they’re so short.”

“it’s supposed to rest around your throat, dear.”

“oh.”

he’s not sure whether he looks okay or not, but judging from adelinde’s messages bombarding his phone that night, gushing about how proud she is to ‘see that the young master has grown to be able to comprehend fashion trends’ after seeing your instagram stories, he thinks he should just ask you to pick his clothes from now own.

when you tell him he looks like he’s about to brave the cold of the mountains in dragonspine, pantalone hums and tilts his head in thought.

perhaps the coat was too much, he agrees as he discards the thick materials. but you huff and press him to remove his gloves and overcoat, and while he understands that he might have gone overboard in dressing up, given how he’s used to the biting cold of snezhnaya’s freezing climates, he can’t help but smirk at the way you’re hurriedly unbuttoning his clothes.

“my, you look quite desperate for me, sweetheart. are you sure you wish to go out tonight? if you'd like, i can always tell them to send the chef over so we can-”

he chuckles when you hit his chest playfully and lets you modify his clothing as you see fit.

well, no matter. if he gets cold he can always buy a coat outside….

... he still ends up sweating like crazy and he does not understand how you can be perfectly fine in this horrendous heat.

calm down pantalone it’s only like 34 degrees celcius.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[winniewritesstories]

thinking about....soldier boy (ben) with a doe-coded reader ⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ all sfw | can be read as gn!reader ⋆˚｡⋆౨ৎ

⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆

⟡ you're a supe with the power to communicate with animals

⟡ you live in the woods near a small rural town, in the new england area. most people leave you alone - your supe powers aren't the most useful for vought. the locals think you're some kind of witch or woodland nymph and give you space, too

⟡ your little cottage is always full of animals, both domestic and wild. deer, foxes, sparrows on your lawn, cats that come and go, rescued dogs of all sizes lounging on your porch.

⟡ butcher & the boys need your help with finding the deep, hoping you can communicate with sea creatures (you've never tried before) to find him and help then track down homelander

⟡ ben is dragged along against his will, grumbling the whole drive there. when they pull up to your cottage, wisteria growing around the doorway, rose bushes with bees buzzing around, he rolls his eyes.

⟡ the front door opens, and there you stand, wearing a little blue or pink or yellow dress, a small kitten hanging out in the pocket of your apron, no shoes on

⟡ you don't ask who they are or why they're there; you just give them a beautiful big smile and greet them, half a dozen dogs following you out the house

⟡ ben has never seen anything so perfect and pure in all his life

⟡ you invite them inside, make tea and serve it with biscuits you just made. there's a robin living in your lounge and what looks like a domesticated mountain lion laying on the bottom step, eying your guests warily

⟡ you listen intently to butcher, wide eyes blinking earnestly, lips slightly parted, and ben just watches you the entire time, taking you in...

⟡ your cheeks, freckled from spending so much time in the sun; the way animals of all shapes and sizes flock to you for safety and comfort; how you're always padding around your home or garden or nearby forest barefoot, curling your toes into the grass. the way you tend your garden, picking flowers to weave into your hair, greeting the bumble bees, making polite conversation with passing crows. the soft tunes you hum or whistle, or the way you sing softly to yourself and your animals as you go about your day

⟡ ben is a goner. practically drooling at how pretty and soft and innocent you are.

⟡ he's obsessed with you after that first meeting, basically following you around like another dog. if you weren't so gentle and affectionate with everyone and everything, you might find it creepy or unnerving or irritating

⟡ but you don't mind him at all, finding his company nice and his attentiveness endearing (he's not the first wild animal you've tamed, after all)

⟡ he basically never uses your name, resorting to any one of a hundred nicknames - princess, dolly, fawn, sweet girl, kitten, pretty girl, my love, little dove

⟡ as you get more comfortable with each other, he'd lay his head in your lap by the fire or under the warm afternoon sun, and you'd scratch his head, playing gently with his hair

⟡ the first time he hears you giggle he actually melts, his heart thawing at the sound, wishing he could bottle it and replay it forever and ever.

⟡ when it gets cold and you wrap yourself in a soft sweater which is too big for you, sleeves covering your hands and he wants to wrap you up and whisk you somewhere warm (although he secretly loves the cold now, getting to hold you close - 'here, dolly, i'll warm you up', he says, pulling you back to sit in his lap, big, strong arms wrapped around you)

⟡ you don't get angry or upset often, but when you do ben thinks it's the most adorable thing ever, the way you huff and pout and stomp around lightly, whining at ben 'don't be mean' and he melts and kisses your nose and says 'i'm sorry, princess', because he can't be teasing or angry with you when you look so sweet

⟡ he finds himself talking to the animals the way he'd seen you do, even if he couldn't understand them. one morning he's sat on the porch, watching you pick vegetables, and he starts talking to the dogs by his feet about the weather and wonders if he's finally cracked

⟡ he basically becomes another feral dog that you tame and becomes an added guard dog to your already large pack. growls at people in the street if they bump your shoulder, stares down frenchie and butcher when they visit, and if he had a tail it'd definitely wag every time he looked at you

⟡ learns how to make tea just the way you like it

⟡ loves, loves, loves to make you blush, watch you get shy and flustered over the silliest little things. drives him mad the way you bite your lip, looking down at your feet or fiddling with your hands, cheeks flushed pink

⟡ never considered himself an animal guy before, but now he befriends all kinds of creatures, thinks twice about buying leather or wool, and even brings home a stray cat he found in a dumpster once

⟡ your favourite love language is physical touch, and you absolutely adore showering ben with affection; butterfly kisses, nose kisses, pressing your forehead against his. sometimes you'll be lay under a willow tree or in bed, and you get all smiley and giggly and plant kisses all over ben's face, shoulders, chest, anywhere you can reach. as you sit back, face flush, hair tousled, slightly breathless with a giddy smile, ben's heart twists almost painfully in his chest, realising how much he loves you and how much that scares him

⟡ he secretly loves the fact he can be gentle and laid back with you, dare i say soft. after a lifetime of fighting, he likes to unwind with you and your animals, and you make him feel much more human. you don't want to use or abuse him, don't need him to be soldier boy, or a hero, don't need him to be anything other than just ben

⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆

notes -

thank you for reading!! first little h/c set like this, please let me know if you like it!! ᡣ𐭩

[not proofread]

[niteshade925]

April 13, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi Archaeology Museum/陕西考古博物馆 (Part 2 - Shang and Zhou dynasty):

A 1:1 replica of a Warring States period (476 - 221 BC) horse chariot that was unearthed in an ancient tomb in Gansu province. The original artifact was made of lacquered wood, decorated with gold, silver, bronze, turquoise, and other semi-precious stones; it's basically the "Lamborghini" of its time. This replica was just sitting in the hallway in between exhibition halls, and it's very big:

Another one of my favorites, which is also one of the stars of the museum. These are called xizun/牺尊, which are animal-shaped bronze wine vessels (notice the lid on its back). This particular pair is "deer-shaped", but also has patterns on the sides that look like bird wings and paws that look like those of predators. Ugh they are so cute...🥺

A Western Zhou dynasty (1046 - 771 BC) "lunch box" made of bronze, called a luxu/录盨. It was found inside of a Western Han dynasty (202 BC - 8 AD) tomb, indicating that even Chinese people from 2000 years ago had an interest in collecting artifacts from earlier times

More bronze food/wine vessels from Shang dynasty (1600 - 1046 BC) and Zhou dynasty (1046 - 256 BC). Top one is called a gui/簋, bottom left is a gu/觚, and bottom right is a jue/爵. The tall-footed wine vessels can be used to warm up wine before drinking, by heating it with a small flame placed between the feet.

This is what a complete set of bronze vessels from Shang/Zhou dynasties looks like. This particular set, called "fanjin and thirteen vessels"/柉禁十三器 (translated as "Altar Set") is currently at the Met. This diagram below gives the name of each vessel:

Bronze chariot decorations with turquoise inlays. The bronze would have looked golden back then

A little bronze dragon. Cute.

Late Western Zhou dynasty pendant made of jade and agate beads called a yupei/玉佩, and from what I can gather, this one should be part of a necklace, which would be one heavy necklace indeed. I feel like a lighter modern replica might go well with sweaters though:

Left: necklaces, bracelets, and armlets from Spring and Autumn period (770 - 476 BC). Right: another jade and agate yupei from Spring and Autumn period, but this one was probably supposed to be hung from the waist.

This one is known as the Rui Gong ding/芮公鼎 or "Cauldron of Duke Rui", which is a bronze tripod ritual vessel (known as ding/鼎). It is inscribed with the text "内(芮)公乍(作)铸口宫宝鼎，万年子孙永宝用", which roughly translates as "Duke Rui cast this treasured ding, may his descendants use it for ten thousand years to come".

More bronze vessels. The top two are ding/鼎 vessels. Sidenote: notice the right one......does it look familiar? I'm pretty sure the rectangular ding is one of the inspirations for the design of TotK's temple of time. Also note the design patterns...I'm fairly certain these are the inspiration for TotK's aesthetics. TotK's Zonai script is also clearly inspired by Seal script/篆书 (I do want to make a post on this but my hands are pretty full atm)

Gold decorations on accessories:

An (incomplete?) bianzhong/编钟 (bronze bell set) and bianqing/编磬 set. The pentagonal stone chimes on the bottom are part of the bianqing.

A paper that studied the oldest face cream found in China (link to the article on Nature for those who have access).

Wadang/瓦当 (decorative roof edges) from Warring States period featuring various animals and mythical creatures, and their moulds:

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates (1.5)

Summary: this is just how I think their rooms would look like

Remus- His room is the biggest, don't ask why. His room is mostly clean, clutter and clothes strewn about every so often. He makes his bed now and then, thinking it makes his room look cleaner when he does. His room is the least colorful, not to say it lacks color, he just likes neutrals and greens to feel less stressed. There's a couple plants in his room, some propagating on his desk along with a laptop and some books he is currently reading. He has a couple bookshelves in his room, that's where he keeps his favorites, knowing that there is a smaller chance they won’t be harmed or destroyed by the other two. He doesn't use the big light. Ever. He prefers lamps and string lights to soften the lighting in his room.

Sirius- He is never really in his room anyways, always in James or Remus’s rooms so, he mostly uses it as a closet. His room is smaller than Remus’s but has a great view. He often sits in his window and smokes, enjoying the view. He has posters all over the walls and tapestries on the ceiling. His room is never clean. Ever. He never makes his bed, says that it is a waste of time since he is just going to sleep in it again and mess it up anyway. He has tons of records in his room, ones he doesn’t feel like sharing with the other boys. He also has an acoustic guitar and an electric guitar in the corner of the room. He definitely has polaroids of all of his friends on the wall next to his bed, on his mirror, and on the back of his door. He has a feature wall in his room that is painted with different stars and constellations in amazing detail.

James- James has the smallest room of the three, but he doesn’t mind. He prefers being out in the living area with the other two anyway, so there's no need to complain about the size of his room. There’s lots of sports posters over his desk and equipment sprawled around the floor of his room. His room is more colorful, he prefers bright colors, having banners in red, yellow, green, and blue. He has some other banners in his room with different animals on them like a wolf and a deer. His bed is ALWAYS made, he likes the routine of waking up, making his bed, then starting his day. There is nothing that is off limits to the other two, he likes sharing anything he has and in return the other two are more open to sharing with him. Which is why Remus’s sweaters can often be found at the edge of his bed or Sirius’s guitar leaning up against his wall.

[diremoone]

“how i wonder” | r. sukuna

it’s been ages since he’s celebrated any sort of birthday or holiday. but here he is, with the girl that’s best friends with his little brother, at her apartment with Chinese takeout and watching a Halloween movie on Christmas. and it’s nice, until the power goes out and he’s left with his own thoughts.

part one | part two | part three

w — modern! au, fluff, age gap, older man/younger woman, Sukuna is 36 & Reader is 22/23, slowburn, pining (on Sukuna’s end), Sukuna thinks too damn much in this one but he’s so intrigued by reader he can’t help it haha, celebrating Christmas solely to feel happy and not lonely (sorta; on both ends), this was originally named “snow sparrow” but then was unhappy with it lmao, and many other tags I may have forgotten lmao

[ divider credit @/inklore ]

A man as wealthy as him shouldn’t be seen outside of the fancy home and set of cars he owns. His bank account is big, too big to be standing in the elevator of a simple apartment complex. Although the place is nice, he thinks. It’s not older than him and dilapidated and run down like some awful things he’s seen, nor was it built fresh and fancy and made to be super expensive. It was simple, and a despite liking the finer things in life, he found the simplicity rather… nice for a change.

This was only half-scheduled: meeting you at your place for the holiday. You’d been with Yuuji for a final essay assignment before the school break. Nothing major, just helping him edit grammatical errors and fix his repetitive word usage. That was two weeks ago; two weeks have passed since you made an offhand comment about “two bored people being bored together” for the the holiday.

Sukuna would never deny he wouldn’t outright admit it either that his little brother living with him brought something great into his life: a woman that he enjoyed challenging him, bringing him a new sense of vigor for life beyond the seven sins he was accustomed to.

His hands seem to be sweaty, though he’d like to think it was because of the several bags of Chinese takeout in his large hand. His left? Probably from having his phone in his hand too much. Yeah, that sounded right. He has no reason to be nervous. Why should he be? No need to dwell on it any further.

He passes by only maybe four or five people on his way up to your apartment that’s on the top floor. The few people he does encounter don’t meet his gaze; instead either intimidated or dumbstruck by his monstrous height and imposing aura and can only make a quick glance at him, probably wondering what such a person like him, especially as big as him, was doing in such a simplistic, plain apartment complex.

Sukuna eyeballs the door numbers, even on the left and odd on the right. Yours is four doors down on the right, 407 if he remembers correctly.

No, he remembers perfectly. Why wouldn’t he?

Sukuna knocks twice and readjusts the bags of warm food in his other hand. He catches himself shifting his feet underneath him like a nervous schoolgirl and almost cusses at himself, had it not been for the tiny metallic click of a lock.

You seem surprised, bewildered slightly that he’s really standing in front of your apartment door. Like you hadn’t actually expected him to take you up on the half-joking offer of spending the holidays together as two “lonely people.” You’re essentially a deer in headlights.

But a beautiful deer in headlights.

He can smell the subtle scent of lavender from you, a smell he hadn’t expected, but was certainty… entranced by it, and with a hint of something fruity mixed in there as well. The soft, navy blue sweater leans slightly more off of your left shoulder, revealing the black bra strap underneath. The black leggings you’re wearing make images go through his head that he’s tried to keep in behind the doors of his office and bedroom. You don’t even have to wear makeup, even try in the slightest to look as beautiful as you do. You’re natural, and you’re not afraid of it. You’re already confident in your own skin, even at your younger age. And heavens, does he love it.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Just like he thought. “But come on in. That’s smells good.”

Sukuna doesn’t get to see the cartoon cow slippers you’re wearing until he’s taking off his own shoes at your front door. His mouth quirks up in a small grin.

Adorable.

“Food can go on the table,” you say, gesturing to the low, long and flat coffee table in front of the couch. “I’ll get drinks. Sorry if you don’t like tea, but that’s all I got.”

“That’s fine.” His voice sounds almost foreign to himself as he stands in an unfamiliar place. But at the same time, he thinks it fits. Like he belongs here in this simplistic but nice apartment of yours, here with you having dinner and spending- You know what, he can stop thinking for a moment and focus on the present.

He’s in deep thought as he takes in the expanse and decor of your home further. It’s nice, definitely nicer than what he expected. His eyes take it all in, but finishes when his eyes land on the cute little Christmas tree tucked away in the corner beside the door to the patio, with tiny, glittery ornaments twinkling as the interwoven, multicolored lights shine against them.

God, you’re almost too cute.

But he couldn’t help but wonder for a small moment how you were faring expenses for this place, alongside groceries and going to school most of the time.

“You must manage your finances well to live here,” he hums.

“I’m not as dirt poor as I used to be, I’ll say that,” you reply. “But even then, being stingy will always be ingrained into my DNA.”

“Even if you have the world at your feet?”

You point to him with the index finger wrapped around your cup of tea, smiling. “Keyword: always~ World or not, the bare necessities are fine for me.”

He swallows down what your words do to him and tries to keep a straight face. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the way you inadvertently say you’ll always feel like you’ll never have anything to desire or genuinely want outside of pure necessity. Sukuna doesn’t like how natural it sounds, how uncaring you are towards wanting more than what you have now. He knew you were like this somewhat, but not to this extent. It makes him… a little angry.

So, now he knows the diamond necklace he bought you won’t be received like he wants it to be.

Guess I’ll have to save it for another time, he notes tactfully, watching you settle the food on the table and hop onto the couch and get comfortable.

The ambience of your home is a change of pace Sukuna didn’t know he needed. Until now.

He’s a giant, giant man, so he takes up most of the couch, even with it being relatively large in itself. You don’t seem to mind however, with the way your feet are barely a centimeter away from touching his leg.

“Any movie or show preferences?”

“Anything but Yellowstone.”

You snort. “What do you have against Yellowstone?”

“Dialogue’s too goddamn fake.”

You toss your head back and let out a boisterous laugh, giggling like a madwoman.

“So, the Powerpuff Girls then?”

“You’re not five.”

“Everyone has an inner child.”

Sukuna grumbles. “Just put it on fuckin’ Yellowstone.”

You throw your hands up in mock surrender, right hand only a few fingers lifted from holding the remote. “How about… Squid Game?”

“For a Christmas show? You’re weird as hell.”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

Sukuna chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll let you decide.”

The spooky movie is ultimately what you choose, and Sukuna finds it nothing short of amusing. He’s not fully interested in the movie, mostly interested in you and the quirkiness that made you choose such a movie on a day like this. His eyes flicker between you and the movie, watching you munch down on the lo mein.

It’s been ages since Sukuna has allowed himself to indulge in relaxation, allowed his mind to think of absolutely nothing but the childish movie in front of him that was picked out for him.

One would think a man like him would let his attorneys and the supervisors directly underneath him do all of the thinking for him while he bathed in his own riches. Sukuna did, yes; he used to. But he knows that one step too far into indulgence could mean the end of everything he put all of his blood and sweat into. And that was why he was so involved in his business, rather than let someone else handle it.

But here he was: indulging himself. (But it wasn’t the same as being on a yacht with women somewhere in the Caribbean.) Perhaps the difference was it wasn’t indulgence of sin, but rather the indulgence of peace and quiet; the desire for more than the company of a one-night stand.

You certainly deserved better than any sort of degrading, essentially whore-like treatment the women he used to be around were given and treated themselves as. You were nothing like them, not even slightly; you would never willingly to jeopardize your morals and dignity, not even for a chance to be with someone like him, as wealthy as him. That kind of interest was on the back-burner. As much as he hated it, he respected it just as much.

Sukuna half-watches the movie as he eats the takeout, not having seen it since one of his first girlfriends as a teenager introduced him to it. It was never important, never intriguing enough for him — nothing but a waste. But now, since you chose it, now it was enough for him to watch it. He finds he enjoys Jack Skellington, amused by his desire to take over Christmas Town. He also feels some sort of similar between him and Jack, regarding Jack’s interest in Sally and him… with you.

“You want a refill?” you ask suddenly, drawing the man from his thoughts. Sukuna looks down, seeing that he was almost out of the tea. Had he been so deep in his own thoughts he didn’t know he’d been sipping away at the drink? He almost scoffs in disbelief.

“If you don’t mind,” he replies. But he figures he’s going to need to use the restroom soon.

“Bathroom’s first door on the left,” you say, getting up after pausing the movie. He’s dumbstruck for a moment. Were you a mind reader?

Sukuna watches you in the reflection of the television. Even just refilling the drinks, you manage to enamor him. You seem so poised, yet so uncaring that someone of his status was sitting in your living room, watching a corny Halloween movie for Christmas. Perhaps being so uncaring went hand-in-hand with how poised and calm you were? There shouldn’t be any other explanation than that.

But why? He wondered what made you unlike the other women, even ones at your age that were nothing but a flustered mess at the mere sight of him. Why weren’t you the same?

He excuses himself to the bathroom and makes it quick. He sees the bottle of lavender body wash, then notices the shampoo, conditioner — the fruity smell he inhaled earlier. With a quick glance, Sukuna sees no perfume either, which perplexes him.

There’s no way she could possibly… Sukuna ponders, but doesn’t finish the thought. And all of a sudden, the lights flicker, hard. It’s something that’s been happening for the last hour or so, but it’s been something he’s ignored until now.

Sukuna ambles back into the living room, seeing the lights dim just as hard as a few seconds ago. Your still in the kitchen, but narrow your eyes slightly at the darkened lights.

“I didn’t see this place as having bad electricity,” he hums, sitting to face the TV, continuing to watch you in the reflection.

“It doesn’t,” you reply. “I suspect the snowstorm’s fixing to get bad enough to knock the power out soon. Now would probably be a good time to leave. I can still see a few snow plows out.”

“I’ll pass,” he replies coolly. “Besides, two cold and lonely souls are better than one.”

He doesn’t know why you let out a tiny snort and giggle, but you do. (A little flower of pride wants to bloom in his chest.)

You lift the lid to the slow cooker and stir. The smell of chocolate reaches his nose after you seal it.

“It’s almost done,” you suddenly speak, “if you’re done watching my reflection in the TV, would you like some hot chocolate?”

Busted. Sukuna knows that he’s now the deer in headlights; his heart thumps harder in embarrassment like a schoolgirl’s would.

“How sweet is it?”

“I’ve no idea. I fucked around with the recipe, so we’ll just have to find out.”

A sudden click is heard, and all the lights fade instantly. It’s completely dark, pitch black almost that neither you nor Sukuna can see in front of yourselves. He moves to stand, but you interject. “Sit, please. I don’t need your big ass knocking my shit over. Nor you getting a concussion.”

Sukuna laughs. “You have it covered then?”

“Could walk this place if I was blind,” you joke with a small snicker.

He watches you find four different candles to light up your apartment, one each for the kitchen and bathroom, and two for the living room. You disappear into your bedroom down the hall for a few moments, then you come back with a surprising, heaping mess of blankets hiding your form from nearly head-to-toe.

“Help me, please? Don’t let it fall on the food.”

Sukuna stands and his big arms wrap around the bundle of blankets, lifting them from you with ease. You pluck one from his grasp and quickly put it over the couch for extra warmth. You’re not about to freeze your ass off with him here.

You get under the blankets fairly quick. It takes nearly two king-sized ones you’ve had tucked away to cover the colossal man that is Ryomen Sukuna.

“Think the food is still warm?”

“Barely.”

“Are you gonna finish the lo mein then?” you ask.

“You can have it.” He half wishes he hadn’t eaten before he came so he didn’t seem so… uninterested in the food.

You have absolutely no shame devouring the remaining food as much as you possibly can in front of him. You eat as much as you can, but there’s still enough of the food left for him if he wants it. It just a matter of it getting cold, you think.

The temperature drops faster than you anticipate though. When you chuck the empty box of noodles into the trash from the living room (you made it, huh, that’s weird) a gust of wind rattles the patio doors, seemingly almost shaking the foundation of the complex. You hear a hum of surprise from the older man next to you as you huddle under the covers more. You shudder from the onslaught of the cold.

Sukuna sighs heavily. He pulls his arm from the blankets “Come ‘ere.”

He almost laughs at the blanched expression on your face. But after a few moments, you cave, scooting yourself closer to him until you two were practically touching thighs.

You squeak as he lifts one of the blankets with one hand and you with the other, trapping you under the second layer.

You shake your head and snort. “God, you’re shameless.”

Sukuna belts out a boisterous laugh. “Shame has never come easy for me.”

You scoff playfully. “I’m sure it hasn’t.”

“Nor does it for you,” he retorts.

And then you admit something that’s going to be on his mind for the rest of his time here. And perhaps for days after this, too: “Mine is more of a learned habit.”

Another gust of bitter cold shakes the patio doors again. You shiver. “Jesus, I didn’t expect it to get this cold.”

“Or for the power to go out.” He huffs. Like second nature, for both of you, he pulls you closer, and you lean into his massive body, taking in the heat his body.

Goodness, you think, closing your eyes, he’s a furnace…

Today certainly hadn’t gone as he expected. The last thing he was anticipating was a snowstorm blowing out the electrical system for several cities, snow falling several good feet and keeping him in the apartment of the woman he’s fallen for.

But you’re what is consuming his mind.

You’re on his lap, eyes closed and resting your head on his chest. You’re so small. Regardless of height, virtually anyone would be smaller than him; he’s a behemoth of a man, yes he knows it.

You, compared to him, are simply tiny, like a bird in the hands of a giant. So delicate, so small and cute. But as delicate as you are, you’re not glass. You’re small like a sparrow, but at the same time you desire freedom, using your wings to fly wherever and do whatever, regardless of how hard life would make your wings have to flap. Your soul isn’t easy to chain down… It’s beautiful.

“Does your brain always run a billion miles a minute this late?”

He grumbles. “Sleep, would you?”

“Your brain has no depth, does it?” you say. Then you ask, “Are you even okay with me sleeping on you?”

“If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be in this position, would we?”

You yawn in reply, nestling your head comfortably on his torso. A small “okay” leaves your lips, and you seemingly have no problem steadying your breath and falling asleep against his chest. It’s nice, being that way for a good few minutes. Well, until you prove you’re not asleep like he thought.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Sukuna almost jumps and cusses, “Goddamn it.” You seem to know that you’ve startled him and laugh in return.

You keep conversation easy; although the two of you talk anything but what is on his mind. That’s not something he’s ready for. He’s still sorting out his own feelings, seeing if they’re beyond just being enthralled with you and your personality. Seeing if what he’s feeling is just high intrigue for you as a person, or whether what he’s feeling is going to lead to something more, beyond intrigue and fascination.

Because he knows that you won’t be able to stay forever. He knows that you, your soul, isn’t going to be easily bound by just anyone. He knows that you want to be unbound, he sees it in your eyes and hears it in your voice; he sees the desire to live freely in the way you carry yourself, the way you act and behave. But holy shit; does he want to be the one to change that.

You carry conversation easy, but eventually you fall asleep on him. The hot chocolate in the slow cooker is forgotten, but he’s sure it’ll be just as good in morning.

Sukuna, as he closes his eyes, wonders about the things you want. Where you’d want to go and the things you want to do. That kind of talk, however, is reserved for a time where there’s a deeper connection between the two of you. It’s reserved for a time where your walls are down and you’re no longer on guard, no longer having your walls built higher than heaven and deeper than hell.

For now, you two are two lonely souls celebrating Christmas, cuddled up to one another for the sake of warmth and nothing more during a sudden blackout.

It would be ludicrous to wonder if you’ve ever wanted to be loved and cherished, married to someone that would cradle your head and tilt it back to kiss you with the utmost devotion a human heart could give.

Now wouldn’t it?

a/n: I know that this is slowburn and everything, but it feels… superbly subpar? pls let me know if you guys think otherwise. this went about 85% of the original plot I had in mind so that’s a plus haha. I have full intent of picking up a bit on the romance aspect (of reader beginning to develop feelings) of this series in the next chapter, which briefly takes place after this one (I promise there’ll be at least one kiss)

—

taglist: (basically everyone that rb’d and commented on the first [for those that tagging worked on] ;; closed)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

aw, look at him 🥺

Finally, FINALLY Jamil can actually relax for once (especially after his own hometown event got him saddled with even more work than he was originally anticipating) 😭 God knows he deserves a break... It's so refreshing to see Jamil not stressing and enjoying himself! The cozy sweater and a genuine smile and squishy cheeks suit him well. A nice touch is that you can see a lot of Harveston cuisine also featured in the artwork: fresh picked apples, a stew cooked in the fireplace, mini apple pies, what seems to be dumplings (I don't remember these being mentioned in the event, so it's possible that these are something else entirely), and, of course, the sandwich cake. jhabdktaveie7teagvyiqt If the Jamil groovy has no vignettes to explain it, I have to wonder how and why this was taken BUT IT'S OKAY, AS LONG AS HE'S HAVING FUN

The plushie he uses in combat seems to be a deer...? Which I guess suits his skill and grace as a dancer. The innocence of a deer though, I don't know if I would equate that to Jamil 😅

Side note: omg, I'm a seer/j I predicted that Jamil would get his outfit from Jade and that's confirmed in his new card's voice lines.

[sparklingsora]

so i found out that today's (? or yesterday's?) prompt for radiostatic week is "dancing", and i was like, "wait, i got a drawing of these two dancing", so i guess i'm finally posting this. i drew this back in march but never posted it bc i wanted to introduce swap!alastor's season 1 look before i start posting stuff of him with curly hair. the story here is that i subscribe to the "alastor's hair is naturally curly and he straightens it", and so at the beginning of season 2 in the veeswap au alastor starts wearing his natural hair! it takes him a bit to grow it back to this length, but yeah :]

[Image ID, copied from alt text: A digital drawing of my swap au versions of Alastor and Vox from Hazbin Hotel dancing. Alastor's hair is curly and pulled back into a ponytail. He wears a white dress shirt underneath a dark red vest with lighter red pinstripes, as well as a black and red bowtie, black pants with red cuffs, and black shoes with red tips. He also wears oval-shaped glasses, and his deer tail is visible. He is smiling somewhat mischievously at Vox. Vox wears a dark blue blazer with a matching fedora and pants. Underneath the blazer he wears a red argyle sweater, and a white dress shirt under that. He also has a cyan blue tie. His shoes are red hi-top Converse, but with the stars in the Converse logo upside down so that the logo resembles a pentagram. He is giddily smiling back at Alastor. Doodly musical notes surround them both. /end ID]

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Can I get #1 with Atsuya please 🥰🎄🎁

"We don’t need a sleigh, you can ride me instead."

TY MY LOVE 💞💞

Hello my love! First time participating in Thirsty Weekends? Glad to have you here.

"We don’t need a sleigh, you can ride me instead."

--------

You curl up on the sofa holding your warm cup of cocoa as Atsuya settles down opposite to you. Snow falls outside, decorating the window and giving it the appearance of a gingerbread hut.

"Remember the good old days when you were a kid and snow meant that school was canceled?" You stretch out your legs and place them on Atsuya's lap, humming as he gives your feet a soft squeeze.

"I remember those times," he muses. "Were you a stay inside sort of person or the kind to go running out in the snow?"

"Oh I loved going out into the snow. Having snowball fights, making snowmen, sledding. All of it."

"Of course you were," Atsuya says with a twinkle in his eye as his hands trace up your ankle and start stroking your calves. You twitch and give him a playful nudge with your foot.

"Let me guess. You were the kind who hated going out in the snow? Always bundled up at home, grumbling about how cold it was?"

"Dollface, you know me so well," he drawls as his hands further creep up towards your thigh. You firmly grab his wandering hand and take another sip of your warm drink.

"I wish I could go sledding now. I don't think my back will allow it now."

"We don’t need a sleigh, you can ride me instead."

You almost snort out your cocoa through your nostrils, spluttering with laughter at the cheesy line. Atsuya is grinning at you, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Atsuya!" You slap his knee and set down your cocoa on the table trying to regain control.

"What? It's not my worst line." Starting to look more and more like the Cheshire cat, Atsuya starts crawling over you on the sofa and you're giggling madly as you're pinned under his weight.

"It's certainly not your best!" You allow him to press a kiss to the crook of your neck before capturing your lips with his. He sighs into the kiss, tasing the sweetness of the cocoa on your tongue before his hands start roaming all over your body, squeezing your soft curves and resting on the plump roundness of your ass.

Instinctively you grind your hips against his, not resisting as his hands pull off your sweater then pulls down the cups of your bra, freeing your breasts to his darkening eyes. His head dips to take one of the hardened peaks into his mouth, nibbling and sucking leisurely as you writhe and whine underneath him.

Heat gathers between both of you as you cradle his head, tangling your fingers into his disheveled brown hair, feeling the sensation in your breast echoed in your throbbing sex. He teases your other nipple before hooking a finger into the waistband of your leggings, pulling your panties along with them in one smooth motion.

Your sweet, swollen, sex was glistening from the attention, and his mouth waters as he parts the folds delicately. "Sit on my face doll."

"What?" Not sure if you heard him correctly, you gaze up at him, waiting for confirmation.

"I'm serious. Ride my face." Seeing your hesitation he gently pulls you closer. "Well don't look at me like a lost deer. Get on me." Atsuya lays flat on the sofa and you carefully crawl over him uncertainly, crouching and spreading apart your knees as wide as they would go.

A moment of silence ensues, then you hear a low sniffing noise and the heat rises in your face. "Delicious," Atsuya grunts, his nose pushing further into your wet folds, making you jump from the sudden contact. A muffled chuckle emanates from him before he reassuringly holds your hips in place.

The first soft flick of his tongue has you moaning, the motion running all the way up from cunt to clit, the little bud swelling under the attention. As he brushes soft circles over the needy nub you moan, reflexively reacting to the rushes of pleasure. He focuses all his energy on it, licking patiently before sucking your clit into his mouth. The seal and pressure causes you to let out a wanton moan, bucking like an animal in heat.

He continues this relentless teasing until you cum on his face. A cry of pleasure excapes you as the delightful sequence of spasms grip your pussy, your clit throbbing in gratification as you spill your juices all over his face.

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER THIRTEEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ the power of being stuck in a storage closet makes some come together while others seem to stray away.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, violence, alot of angst, signs of depression, jealousy, mentions of bullying, death, depression, some fluff, reoccuring ptsd, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT I PREVIOUS

as morning breaks, the storage closet transforms. sunlight pours in through the few high windows, casting a warm glow on the space. the air is filled with the sweet sounds of birds chirping and crickets falling silent, a serene contrast to the chaos that has unfolded.

one by one, the group stirs, each person slowly rising to sit across the room in contemplative silence. the weight of the past few hours hangs heavy, as they process the loss of loved ones and the turmoil that has brought them to this place. but amidst the somber stillness, one figure remains motionless. you lie sleeping underneath a chair, wrapped in the gentle protection of onjo's sweater. your face is turned away from the windows, away from the world outside, as if seeking refuge from the pain and exhaustion that has consumed you.

in this moment, sleep is a welcome respite, a fleeting escape from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to engulf you. and as you rest, you can't help but feel a sense of resignation, a tempting desire to simply stay hidden away in this storage closet forever, shielded from the uncertainty and heartache that lies beyond.

onjo sits vigilantly beside you, her presence a gentle comfort as she watches over your slumber. she feels an overwhelming urge to care for you, to shield you from the world and its cruelties. her eyes soften as she gazes at your peaceful form, her heart filled with a deep affection for you and cheongsan, who sits quietly to her right.

as she looks at you, she's reminded of a young deer, vulnerable and alone, struggling to find its footing in a vast and unpredictable world. your tired, fragile appearance evokes a strong maternal instinct in her, and she feels a deep desire to protect and nurture you, to help you find your strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

wujin turns to his sister, his voice laced with concern, "noona, you didn't fail in the preliminaries, did you?" he asks, his eyes searching for reassurance. his sister hesitates, her gaze drifting away as she responds slowly, "no, i did really well." her voice is measured, but the lack of conviction is notiecable. wujin's curiosity is piqued, and he presses for more information, his tone gentle but insistent. "well, then what happened? why did you come back to the school if you won?" he senses that something is amiss, and his doubts begin to simmer just below the surface.

mijin, sensing the unease, intervenes with a light, conversational tone. "you're her brother?" she asks, sitting up a bit straighter, her interest piqued. wujin nods, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, "yeah, i am."

mijin's face glows with pride as she gazes at hari, a smug smile spreading across her features. "you should know then that she got a perfect score, so she made it to the nationals," she reveals, her voice dripping with satisfaction. she adds a casual remark, "i saw her," to lend an air of authenticity to her statement.

wujin's eyes widen in awe as he turns back to his sister, a bright smile illuminating his face. "really?" he asks, his excitement palpable. "no way. you're really in nationals? does mom and dad know?" he presses, sitting up even straighter, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

however mijin's sarcastic tone quickly deflates his excitement. "gosh, you rascal, how could they know now? look around," she scoffs, her words a harsh reminder of their current circumstances. wujin's eyes dart away, his face flushing with embarrassment at his oversight. cheongsan's gentle reprimand interrupts the exchange, "hey guys, quiet down. y/n's still sleeping." wujin nods, chastened, and turns back to his sister, ready to ask another question, but mijin catches his eye, a warning glint in her own.

mijin's expression turns stern, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and amusement. "yah, she jumped out of the archery bus and ran to the school to find you. you little..." she trails off, smacking her lips in a gesture reminiscent of a disapproving aunt.

wujin's face contorts in disgust as mijin continues, her gaze drifting to hari, who remains lost in thought. "you be good to her," mijin instructs, her tone softening slightly. she pauses, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "...and to me too." her eyes sparkle with amusement as she looks away, a subtle smile playing on her lips. wujin attempts to whisper to his sister, his voice barely audible as he tries to convey his confusion. "who is she and why does she keep talking for you?" his words are laced with a mix of curiosity and annoyance, but mijin's sharp ears pick up on the hushed conversation, her gaze flicking back to wujin with a knowing glint.

hari's gaze shifts to mijin, a faint smile playing on her lips. "she's my friend," she says, her voice soft and gentle. mijin's heart skips a beat as she processes hari's words, a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. "yeah, we're... fucking besties," mijin agrees, her tone shy and hesitant, but her eyes sparkling with delight. wujin's reaction is immediate, his face contorting in distaste as he looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange.

his gaze falls on daesu, who stands before them, a solemn expression etched on his face. wujin's eyes widen in surprise, and he mutters, "shit, you scared me." daesu's presence is unexpected, and wujin's words hang in the air as daesu prepares to speak, his expression somber and serious.

daesu clears his throat and looks down at his feet awkwardly. “i..” he trails off. “..you?” mijin tries to help him finish his sentence.

daesu's words tumble out in a rush, his voice barely above a whisper. "i think you're the perfect girl," he confesses, his chest rising with a deep breath, as if he's been holding the sentiment inside for far too long.

wujin's eyes dart between his friend, his sister, and back again, his expression a mix of shock and incredulity. "you freak..." he whispers, his voice laced with disbelief. the room falls silent, with all eyes fixed on the unfolding scene, except for two people - suhyeok and you.

suhyeok's gaze is captivated by your shoes, which lie neatly on top of each other, a testament to your orderly nature, even in rest. he sits transfixed, his eyes drinking in the sight of your belongings, his presence drawn to yours, even as you sleep. without drawing attention to himself, he subtly shifts his position, inching closer to your shoes, and by extension, to you. though he doesn't touch them, he feels a sense of comfort in being near, as if your presence is a soothing balm to his soul.

suhyeok's emotions are a tangled mess, a jumble of shame, regret, and self-reproach. his anger, a familiar companion for most of his life, has turned inward, and he's consumed by the memory of how he spoke to you the night before. the weight of his words hangs heavy, and he's tormented by the thought of how he treated someone as fragile yet resilient as you.

as he sits, his arms fold over his knees, and his head bows, resting on his arms. his gaze drifts upward, drinking in the sight of you, sleeping peacefully. his mind is a cacophony of recriminations, a constant, piercing criticism that echoes through his thoughts. the turmoil within him is a palpable, almost overwhelming force, as he struggles to come to terms with his actions and the emotions that drive him.

daesu's voice echoes through the room, his words tumbling out in a desperate, anguished cry. "why don't you understand? i really like you!" he shouts, his emotions raw and unbridled.

suhyeok's gaze had been fixed on you, lost in thought, but daesu's outburst snaps him back to reality. he's missed the chaos that erupted moments before, when hari's temper flared in response to daesu's confession. he's unaware of the punches and slaps that flew, or the way hari trapped daesu within a makeshift prison of metal racks, their wire mesh confines overflowing with sports balls of every shape and size.

but suhyeok's attention is riveted on you now, as your body jerks in response to daesu's sudden, ear-piercing shout. suhyeok's head snaps up, his eyes locking onto yours, his expression a mask of concern and alarm.

you stir, pulling your legs up and sliding out from underneath the chair, as the sudden shouting jolts you awake. your head darts wildly around the room, struggling to comprehend the chaos that's erupted. your eyes scan the space, drinking in the scene before you, as you try to shake off the remnants of sleep.

in your haste to stand, onjo's sweater slips off your shoulders, and you instinctively reach out to catch it, clutching it tightly to your chest. onjo and namra rush to your side, their hands extended in a calming gesture, as they try to reassure you that there's no danger.

but you're still disoriented, half-asleep, and struggling to process the mayhem that's unfolded. your gaze darts around the room, confusion etched on your face, as you try to make sense of the shouting, the commotion, and the worried expressions of those around you.

hari's voice drips with sarcasm as she turns to daesu, her eyes blazing with annoyance. "now look what you did. you woke up y/n, my dear husband," she says, her tone heavy with irony.

she lunges forward, trying to grab daesu, but he dodges and weaves, avoiding her grasp. "you attacked me first!" daesu protests, trying to reason with hari, but she's having none of it.

instead, she begins to hurl volleyballs at him, her aim true as she tries to pelt him with the balls. daesu ducks and dodges, desperate to avoid the flying projectiles as hari's anger continues to simmer, threatening to boil over at any moment.

mijin's voice is low and casual as she issues a gentle command, "yah, kid. go back to sleep." she slips her hands into her pockets, her demeanor nonchalant, as if trying to downplay the chaos that's erupted. your mind is still foggy, struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep. you nod slowly, your gaze drifting around the room in confusion. onjo seizes the opportunity, grasping the hem of your pants and gently tugging you down to sit beside her. you follow her lead, still disoriented, and settle in next to her.

meanwhile, suhyeok's eyes hold a glimmer of hope, a fleeting wish that you might glance in his direction. but even in your tired, bewildered state, your instincts don't lead you to seek him out. suhyeok's gaze lingers, a mixture of longing and resignation, as he watches you settle in beside onjo, his hopes dashed, if only for the moment.

onjo gently cradles your head in her lap, softly laying her sweater back over you. your eyelids grow heavy, and you succumb to sleep once more, the warmth and comfort of onjo's lap a soothing balm to your exhausted mind and body. the transition is seamless, and you're asleep again within mere minutes, a testament to your deep fatigue.

mijin's voice cuts through the din, her tone detached as she ignores the ongoing commotion between hari and daesu. "gosh, i never thought i'd see that brat again," she remarks, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

hroryeong's curiosity is piqued, and she asks, "you know y/n?" her confusion evident, as she tries to piece together the connection between mijin and you. mijin's response is smooth, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "yeah, we go way back," she says, the statement a blatant fabrication, but one that goes unchallenged in the moment, even by you, who slumber peacefully, oblivious to the conversation.

mijin's gaze sweeps the group, a small smirk still playing on her lips. "glad to see the guy actually has some other friends," she says, her tone laced with a hint of dry humor. the group exchanges small smiles, a sense of warmth and camaraderie evident in their expressions, as they reflect on the bonds that have formed between you and them over the past few days.

wujin's voice cuts in, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. "y/n and i were childhood friends, actually," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. mijin's gaze lingers on wujin, her expression unreadable. after a beat, she responds, her voice measured, "oh yeah?" her tone invites wujin to elaborate, and he nods, still not meeting her gaze. "yup, spent almost every day together," wujin says, a faraway look creeping into his eyes, as if he's genuinely reminiscing about fond memories. however, the hint of smugness still lingers, suggesting that wujin might be embellishing the truth, or at least, enjoying the attention.

mijin lets out a dismissive scoff, a proud smile spreading across her face. "yeah, well, y/n and i are pretty close," she says, her voice dripping with confidence. "i mean, we're practically family. you know, he calls me noona instead of sunbae?" she adds, the claim a blatant fabrication, but one she delivers with conviction.

joonyeong and suhyeok exchange a look of annoyance, their expressions a testament to their skepticism. they return their attention to the exchange between mijin and wujin, their gazes neutral.wujin responds, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. "i mean, that's cool, but i think since i've known him longer, i'd say we were closer." he adds a casual "just saying" to his statement, but the underlying competitiveness is palpable.

mijin's gaze snaps to wujin, her eyes narrowing into an annoyed glare. the air is thick with tension as the two engage in a silent stare-down, each attempting to outdo the other in their claims of closeness to you.

mijin's eyes narrow, her gaze piercing as she scrutinizes wujin. "that's funny," she says, her voice laced with skepticism. "last time we spoke, he told me he didn't have any friends." her tone implies that wujin's claims of a close relationship with you are dubious, at best.

wujin hesitates, his eyes darting around the room as he searches for a response. but before he can speak, mijin presses on, her words dripping with challenge. "honestly, he never even mentioned your name." the statement hangs in the air, a gauntlet thrown, as mijin awaits wujin's response.

wujin's chuckle is nervous, a forced attempt to diffuse the tension. he's clearly caught off guard by mijin's revelation, and his mind is racing to come up with a plausible explanation. the room falls silent, all eyes fixed on the exchange between mijin and wujin, as even daesu and hari pause in their argument, intrigued by the sudden drama unfolding before them.

mijin's voice rises, her anger and frustration simmering just below the surface. "actually, he said everyone was pretty much against him because he's..." she begins, her words trailing off as she meets wujin's gaze. suddenly, she realizes what she's about to reveal, and her expression freezes. she gulps, her throat constricting, before clearing her throat and looking away, her anger and frustration boiling over. "ugh, nevermind, you little brat," she mutters, her voice laced with irritation, as she scratches her cheek in frustration. the tension in the room is palpable, until cheongsan speaks up, his voice calm and soothing. "we know," he says, his eyes drifting to your peaceful form, still slumbering away. "it's not a big deal, so let's not make it one." his words are a gentle rebuke, a reminder to mijin to let the matter drop.mijin's eyebrows furrow, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she turns to cheongsan. "you know... what?" she asks, her voice low and even, as if daring him to reveal how much he really knows.

daesu's voice is barely audible, his words whispered as if sharing a secret that's too sensitive for outsiders to hear. "he's gay," he says, his tone conspiratorial, as if the storage closet is a confessional.the room falls silent, with no one responding or reacting. joonyeong breaks the silence, giving a thumbs up, a subtle acknowledgment of daesu's revelation.

mijin's expression transforms, her suspicion giving way to a warm smile. she nods, seeming to accept the information, before sitting up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "okay, thank god," she says, chuckling to herself, "cause i wanted to ask him more questions about his love life, and it would've been hard with all you brats here."

hroryeong and onjo exchange a look, their expressions bored, before shrugging and focusing on their skirts, playing with the fabric as if seeking distraction from the conversation. their nonchalant attitude is a stark contrast to mijin's enthusiasm, and the tension in the room begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of mundane normalcy.

suhyeok abruptly rises to his feet, his eyes fixed on the metal ball containers stacked below him. with a sudden burst of energy, he begins to kick and clang against the containers, testing their sturdiness. the loud rattling noise fills the room, causing everyone to turn their heads in unison, seeking the source of the commotion.

joonyeong is the first to react, getting up from his seat to approach suhyeok. "what's going on?" he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. suhyeok pauses, his chest heaving slightly, as he explains, "i was just wondering if we can move these things."

joonyeong's expression changes, a spark of understanding igniting in his eyes. he begins to think critically, his mind racing with the possibilities. he starts to envision ways to utilize the metal containers to their advantage, his gaze drifting back to suhyeok, a nod of appreciation on his face.

suhyeok's words spark a flurry of activity, as everyone rises to their feet, united in their efforts to create a makeshift shield. "we can tie all the carts in a circle, then we can use them as a shield," suhyeok explains, his idea igniting a sense of purpose in the group.

as the others begin to work together, gathering zip ties and securing the carts in a circular formation, suhyeok's gaze meets onjo's. onjo's eyes had been fixed on your sleeping form, a look of quiet contemplation on her face. suhyeok's eyes lock onto onjo's, and onjo responds with a subtle nod, as if acknowledging suhyeok's unspoken understanding.

onjo's hands gently cradle your head, her fingers stroking your hair with a soothing gentleness. the calm, peaceful atmosphere surrounding you is a stark contrast to the bustling activity around the makeshift shield. as the group works together, their movements become a blur of efficiency, united in their determination to protect and defend.

the storage room transforms into a flurry of activity, as everyone works together, pooling their resources and skills to create a formidable barrier. tool boxes and crates are raided, yielding a treasure trove of random supplies that are quickly repurposed for their defense.

joonyeong, wujin, and hroryeong scour the room, gathering an assortment of ropes, including jump-ropes, to secure the carts in place. meanwhile, cheongsan and daesu work in tandem, holding the carts together in a circular formation, as they await the ropes to tie everything together.

suhyeok, ever the climber, attempts to scale a nearby shelf, his eyes scanning the top for any equipment that might aid in their defense. his movements are agile and precise, as he searches for anything that might give them an edge.

nearby, namra, mijin, and hari engage in a heated discussion, debating the merits of adding a top section to their makeshift shield. "we should add a top part," namra suggests, "so they can't climb over." hari nods in agreement, while mijin chimes in, her voice filled with determination. "yeah, we can't let those zombies get the drop on us." the trio continues to brainstorm, their conversation flowing easily, as they work together to fortify their defenses.

the sense of harmony and cooperation is shattered in an instant, as onjo's leg jolts, startling you awake. you sit up with a jolt, your eyes scanning the room, and your ears assaulted by the sound of screaming. but it's not hari's voice that fills the air - it's mijin's.

"you piece of shit! who do you think you are?" mijin's words are venomous, her face twisted in rage, as she shoves joonyeong with all her might. suhyeok attempts to intervene, but he's no match for mijin's fury.

you leap to your feet, your voice ringing out across the room. "yah! what's going on?" you demand, your eyes scanning the scene before you. mijin's anger is still simmering, her finger jabbing accusingly at joonyeong. "ask your idiot friend," she spits, her tone dripping with malice. joonyeong's face is a mask of anger, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. wujin steps in, his voice laced with annoyance. "we shouldn't fight like this, especially not now," he says, his words a plea for calm in the midst of chaos.

suhyeok tells them both to stop but joonyeong pushes his hand away from him, “who the hell is she to tell us we have to redo it?”

mijin's expression twists in scorn, her voice dripping with venom. "your fucking nightmare, that's who!" she retorts, her anger and frustration boiling over. she attempts to take a step forward, but suhyeok once again intervenes, his body positioning itself between mijin and joonyeong.

suhyeok's voice rises, his tone firm but calm. "look, we're in this together, so let's not make it harder than it needs to be," he says, his eyes darting between mijin and joonyeong, as he strives to mediate the conflict.

your gaze falls on suhyeok, and for a moment, the tension between mijin and joonyeong fades into the background. memories of the previous night's encounter with suhyeok come flooding back, and your face flushes with a mix of desire and embarrassment. the feelings are still raw, and you're not ready to confront them. your anger and frustration serve as a convenient shield, allowing you to push those memories aside, at least for the time being.

“youre gonna die out there if you don't listen to me,” mijin sneered at joonyeong who rolled his eyes. “you think im putting it up cause i wanna die? no!” joonyeong responded back, “stop acting like you're better than us just because you're not in the same grade as us.” he huffed in annoyance at mijins fiery spirit. however mijin took that as disrespect.

the atmosphere is electric with animosity as mijin and joonyeong engage in a heated exchange. but your calm and authoritative voice cuts through the chaos, bringing the argument to an abrupt halt. "both of you stop, we can discuss this in a better way than screaming at each other," you say firmly, your words commanding attention.

the room falls silent, with all eyes on you. you notice namra's gaze fixed intently on you, her eyes having been on you the entire time. you flash her a soft smile, accompanied by a subtle smirk that only she can see. "what do we do, class president?" you ask, your voice low and gentle.

namra's expression remains serene, but she raises her head slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "we'll vote on it," she declares, her voice clear and decisive. the room remains silent for a moment, before namra instructs everyone to gather around, her words sparking a sense of anticipation and expectation.

you position yourself beside cheongsan and mijin, leaning casually against the cart as namra begins to outline the options. "one, we split up," she says, her voice clear and concise. but instead of sparking a debate, her words are met with an uncomfortable silence. no one raises their hand, the reluctance to split up palpable in the air.

namra's expression remains neutral, her eyes scanning the group as she continues. "two, we stick together," she says, and this time, the response is overwhelmingly in favor. one by one, hands begin to rise, some more hesitant than others. the consensus is clear: sticking together is the preferred option, and the group's collective relief is almost tangible.

namra's voice is calm and authoritative as she announces, "alright, that means we are staying together." but before she can continue, daesu and mijin's disagreement threatens to boil over into a full-blown argument. you intervene, firmly telling them to "shut up and listen." they both reluctantly comply, their faces still stormy with discontent. namra seizes the opportunity to press on, her voice steady. "anyways, one, we make the outside higher." joonyeong's hand shoots up first, followed by suhyeok, onjo, and cheongsan. you hesitate, weighing your options, and just as you're about to raise your hand, mijin's death stare freezes you in place. you flash her a small, conciliatory smile before lowering your hand.

but you're not willing to abandon your opinion entirely. when mijin's attention is diverted, you slyly mouth to namra, "count me too." it's a subtle gesture, one that allows you to register your support without openly defying mijin's glare. namra's eyes flicker to yours, a hint of understanding in their depths, before she continues with the discussion.

namra's voice continues, steady and clear, as she presents the second option. "two, we fold the lids to make a box." mijin's hand springs up instantly, followed by hroryeong, wujin, and hari. mijin's eyes dart to you, expecting to see your hand raised in agreement. but your hand remains still, and you deliberately avoid her gaze, pretending to focus on something else.

mijin's reaction is immediate and intense. she mutters a curse under her breath before elbowing you sharply on your injured arm. the pain is sudden and intense, and you can't help but groan in response. but despite the discomfort, you lift your other arm in a show of solidarity with mijin, though you carefully shake your head at namra, indicating that you don't actually support the second option. the gesture is a delicate balancing act, one that aims to placate mijin's temper without compromising your own opinions.

namra's announcement is met with a mixture of reactions. "majority votes for option one. we'll be building the barricade higher," she declares, her voice firm and decisive. some members of the group rejoice, seemingly pleased with the outcome, while others remain stoic.

mijin, however, speaks up, her voice tinged with a hint of challenge. "what about your vote?" she asks, her eyes fixed intently on namra. the question hangs in the air, implying that namra's own vote might have swung the decision in a particular direction. the group's attention is now focused on namra, awaiting her response to mijin's inquiry.

namra's blank stare speaks volumes before she finally announces, "i go with one." the decision is met with a mixture of reactions, but mijin's disappointment is palpable. she lets out a curse under her breath, clearly unhappy about losing the vote.

you try to offer some comfort, patting her back as everyone starts to build the shield. "hey, if you ever get mad again, just know i was on your side," you whisper with a small smile. but mijin isn't buying it - she knows you're lying, and she gives you a small glare to prove it. "you moron, this is what i get from treating you so well?" she says, hopping off the cart and motioning for you to help her drill the boards to the carts. despite the tension, you can't help but notice the way mijin's eyes sparkle with annoyance, and you can't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the situation.

"hurry up," you say, following mijin with a small smile. you're trying not to laugh at how adorable she is when she's sulking. it's been a whirlwind few days, and to say you've built a lot of things is a massive understatement. you've been pushed to your limits, and your skills have been put to the test.

as you work alongside mijin, you can't help but think about the future. once this ordeal is over, you're going to have a slew of new skills to add to your resume. you're not sure what kind of job you'll be applying for, but you're confident that your experiences will make you a strong candidate. the thought is a comforting one, and it gives you the motivation to keep going, even in the face of adversity.

as you kneel down to drill the wood panels, mijin holds them in place, her hands steady and firm. your focus is solely on the task at hand, the sound of the drill filling the air. around you, the others are working on different aspects of the barricade. namra is carefully holding down a nail that will secure a makeshift mattress to the metal cart's pole, while suhyeok is supposed to be attaching a zip tie to hold it in place.

but suhyeok's attention is elsewhere, his gaze drifting across the room to settle on you. he's noticed little things about you as he's spent more time with you, like the way you react to mijin's teasing. she calls you a moron, and you don't bat an eye, but when myungwhan used to say the same thing, you'd get defensive. suhyeok's observations are subtle, but they reveal a deeper understanding of your personality and dynamics within the group.

suhyeok's observations of you have given him a glimpse into your emotional intelligence. he's realized that you're able to distinguish between people who are genuinely trying to hurt you and those who are simply joking around. it's a subtle but important distinction, and one that speaks to your ability to navigate complex social dynamics.

just as suhyeok is lost in thought, namra's soft voice breaks the spell. "staring isn't going to help us get done faster," she says, her tone gentle but pointed. suhyeok's head snaps towards her, his expression a picture of innocence. he blinks slowly, his eyes wide with feigned nonchalance. for a moment, suhyeok tries to come up with an explanation for his behavior, but he quickly thinks better of it. instead, he focuses on tying down the zip tie, his movements sudden and deliberate. it's clear that he's trying to avoid an unwanted conversation, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to steer the focus back to the task at hand.

namra's gaze lingers on suhyeok for a moment, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. she seems to sense that there's more to suhyeok's behavior than meets the eye. slowly, she looks around the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the group's industrious efforts.

her eyes scan the space, lingering on mijin and you as you work together, before moving on to joonyeong and the others. finally, her gaze comes back to rest on suhyeok, who's still intently focused on securing the zip tie. namra's voice is low and casual as she asks, "suhyeok, do you... like y/n?" her words are dropped like a stone into a still pond, causing ripples of tension to spread through the air. suhyeok's hands freeze, the zip tie momentarily forgotten, as he struggles to come up with a response. suhyeok's ears turn a brilliant shade of red as namra's question hangs in the air. he's frozen in place, his body as still as a statue, as he struggles to process his emotions. it's clear that he's unsure of how to respond, and the silence that follows namra's question is oppressive.

just as it seems like suhyeok is about to implode from embarrassment, daesu ambles over, a look of annoyance on his face. "hey, suhyeok, can we switch?" he asks, patting suhyeok on the back. "wujin keeps yelling at me, and i'm getting tired of it." daesu's interruption is a welcome distraction, and suhyeok's frozen state begins to thaw. he blinks slowly, his eyes darting towards daesu as he tries to process the sudden change in conversation. namra's question is left hanging, unanswered, as the group's attention shifts to daesu's complaint.

wujin stands up from his kneeling position, a look of exasperation on his face. "he's always complaining that he's hungry," wujin says, his voice tinged with frustration. "i'm trying to focus on getting this done, and all he can think about is his stomach."

daesu shoots back, "hey, i'm starving! we've been working for hours, and i haven't eaten anything since..." he looks around the group, hoping to garner some sympathy, but wujin just rolls his eyes. "you're always hungry, daesu," wujin says, shaking his head. "it's like you have a bottomless pit for a stomach." the group chuckles at wujin's comment, and the tension is momentarily broken. suhyeok, still looking a bit flustered from namra's earlier question, takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. as the sound of your drill momentarily stops, cheongsan suddenly speaks up, his voice low and barely audible. he mutters something underneath his breath, and you strain to catch the words. at first, you're not sure what he said, but then you pick up on a single word that makes your ears perk up: "chocolate". you're not sure what cheongsan is talking about, or why he's mentioning chocolate out of the blue. but the word itself is enough to spark a sudden craving within you. you can't help but wonder if there's any chocolate to be found in their current surroundings, or if cheongsan is just taunting you with the mention of it.

as everyone turns towards cheongsan, they're met with a surprising sight: he's holding an unopened chocolate bar in his hand. the room falls silent for a moment, before suddenly erupting into a flurry of activity. people start gathering around cheongsan, their eyes fixed greedily on the chocolate bar.

you can't help but be drawn in, your curiosity getting the better of you. daesu is the first to make a move, quickly snatching the chocolate bar out of cheongsan's hand. "let me see," he says, examining the package with a critical eye.

after a moment, daesu looks up, a hint of disappointment on his face. "it's expired," he announces, as if that's the final nail in the coffin. but suhyeok is undeterred. "who cares?" he says, a mischievous glint in his eye. "we can still eat it."the room falls silent again, as everyone considers suhyeok's words. then, slowly, a murmur of agreement starts to build. "we can take small bites," someone suggests. "just to calm our hunger a bit."

the discussion quickly gains momentum, with everyone chiming in with their opinions. it's clear that the prospect of sharing the chocolate bar is a tantalizing one, and no one wants to miss out.

the group forms a circle, the chocolate bar placed in the center. one by one, each person takes a small bite, savoring the sweet, rich flavor before passing it on to the next person. as the chocolate bar continues to make its way around the circle, you find yourself standing between suhyeok and cheongsan. you can't help but stare at the chocolate, your eyes fixed on the decreasing size of the bar. with each passing bite, your mouth waters more and more, and you can feel your hunger pangs growing stronger.

the chocolate bar is getting smaller and smaller, and you can feel a sense of urgency building up inside you. you hope that there will be enough left for everyone to have another bite, but as you glance around the circle, you realize that might not be the case.

as suhyeok brings the chocolate bar up to his mouth, you're completely entranced, your eyes fixed on the sweet treat. but as he pauses, his gaze meeting yours, you realize that you're staring directly at him, your eyes locked on his lips. the air seems to freeze around you, and for a moment, it's as if time has stopped. suhyeok's eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him with an unguarded intensity. your eyes, wide and unblinking, seem to be begging for something, and suhyeok's gaze lingers on yours, his face inches from yours. for a moment, it's as if the entire room has melted away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment of charged anticipation.

the room falls silent, with everyone staring at suhyeok and you with a mixture of confusion and awkwardness. it's as if they're all waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. except for namra, who seems to sense that something is off. she elbows suhyeok gently, as if to snap him out of a trance. suhyeok blinks, his expression unchanged, and looks down at the chocolate bar still clutched in his hand.

and that's when he realizes, with a flush of embarrassment, that you were never actually looking at suhyeok's face. you were still fixated on the chocolate bar, your eyes glued to the sweet treat. suhyeok's face hadn't moved, and you were just... staring at the chocolate.

suhyeok clears his throat, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. he hesitates for a moment before offering you the chocolate bar, his eyes locking onto yours with a hint of uncertainty. "here," he says, his voice a little softer than usual. "you can take a bigger bite. it'll count for both of us."

daesu's eyes widen in protest, and he lets out a dramatic whine. "hey, no way! that's not fair!" he complains, his hands on his hips. "we're supposed to be sharing equally!" the group chuckles at daesu's outburst, and suhyeok shoots him a wry glance. "it's just a little more chocolate, daesu," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "don't be so greedy."

you take the chocolate bar from suhyeok, your fingers brushing against his as you do so. but as you're about to thank him, you suddenly remember the words he spoke to you the night before. "i'm just gonna leave you alone." the memory of those words sparks a flicker of anger within you, and you feel your expression harden.

"no thanks," you say curtly, your voice devoid of gratitude. "i'm not that hungry anymore." you quickly pass the chocolate bar on to cheongsan, who takes a bite with a look of enthusiasm. suhyeok's eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion and hurt flickering across his face. but you don't meet his gaze, instead turning away and focusing on the task at hand. the tension between you and suhyeok is palpable, and the group's mood seems to shift in response.

suhyeok's eyes linger on you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. he seems to be studying you, trying to read the emotions behind your actions. and then, it clicks. he realizes that you're not the same person you were before. you're not the pushover people thought you were. he can sense that you've built a wall around your heart, a high, impenetrable barrier that's guarded with military-grade weapons. and he knows that those weapons are aimed directly at him.

you walk past suhyeok, your eyes fixed on namra, who's leaning against one of the metal racks, a look of quiet observation on her face. you make your way towards her, your footsteps echoing through the room.

as you approach, namra pushes off from the rack and watches you with a concerned expression. you sit down on the floor, your back against the rack, and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. the cool air fills your lungs, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you. you can hear the muffled sounds of the others, but they seem distant, unimportant. all that matters is this moment, this breath, and the sense of peace that comes with it. namra sits down beside you, her presence a comforting silence. she doesn't say anything, doesn't try to offer words of comfort or advice. she simply sits with you, a steady, reassuring presence in a chaotic world.

as you sit there, eyes closed, focusing on your breath, you're not even aware of namra's presence beside you. you're too caught up in your own attempt to escape, to temporarily forget about the dire circumstances that surround you.

mijin sits down in front of you and namra, her eyes scanning your faces as she takes in your calm expressions. for a moment, she just looks at you, a hint of curiosity on her face. then, as if drawn in by the peaceful atmosphere, mijin closes her own eyes and takes a deep breath. she sits down, her back straight, and begins to focus on her own breathing.

the three of you sit in silence, your eyes closed, your faces serene. you look like a meditation class, with you as the instructor guiding your students through a peaceful exercise. mijin and namra seem completely absorbed in the moment, their breathing slow and steady. meanwhile, wujin whispers to joonyeong, nodding discreetly in your direction. "what's going on with them?" he asks, his voice barely audible. joonyeong looks up from his project, his eyes squinting slightly as he takes in the scene. he shrugs, his expression uninterested. "no idea," he says, his voice equally quiet. "maybe they're just really into... breathing."

wujin raises an eyebrow, but joonyeong's already gone back to his project, his focus solely on the task at hand. he's still nursing a grudge about not getting any chocolate, thanks to daesu's sneaky snacking. the memory of that injustice still rankles him, and he's not about to let some mysterious meditation session distract him from his work.

as the three of you continue to sit in silence, the rest of the group begins to take notice. daesu, still licking his fingers from the last bite of chocolate, looks over at you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. cheongsan and suhyeok exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable.

but joonyeong remains focused on his project, his eyes fixed intently on the task at hand. wujin, on the other hand, can't seem to tear his gaze away from the three of you, his eyes fixed on your peaceful faces with a mixture of fascination and confusion.

as you sit in silence, your mind begins to wander to a different time and place. you visualize yourself sitting on the couch in your living room, surrounded by the warm and comforting familiarity of home. your father is sitting beside you, a big smile on his face as the two of you laugh together.

the memory is so vivid, so real, that you can almost feel the softness of the couch beneath you, and the warmth of your father's presence beside you. you can almost hear the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, and feel the way it makes you feel happy and safe.

but as the memory washes over you, it's followed by a wave of sadness and longing. you realize that it's been a while since you last thought about your father, and that's a painful admission. you miss him dearly, and the not knowing - not knowing if he's even alive - is a constant ache in your heart. your eyes begin to sting, and you feel a lump form in your throat. you try to push the emotions away, to focus on the calm and peacefulness of the moment. but it's hard to shake the feeling of loss and longing that's settled over you.

namra's eyes remain closed, but a subtle smile plays on her lips as she visualizes herself sitting on top of a high building. the wind blows gently, carrying warm rays of sunshine that dance across her skin. she feels carefree, unencumbered by worries or responsibilities.

in her mind's eye, she's alone at first, savoring the peace and quiet. but then, she notices a presence beside her. she doesn't need to look to know it's you. she can sense your calm energy, your quiet contemplation. as she "sees" you standing beside her, looking out at the other buildings, a soft smile spreads across her face. it's an unconscious gesture, a reflexive response to the sense of comfort and companionship she feels with you by her side. the smile lingers on her lips, a gentle, serene expression that reflects the peace and tranquility of the moment.

mijin's eyes remain closed, a subtle nod of her head the only outward sign of the vibrant scene unfolding in her mind. she visualizes herself in her own room, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home. her headphones are clamped firmly over her ears, the rich sounds of her favorite rap tracks pulsating through the speakers.

as the music washes over her, mijin starts to rap along, her lips moving silently as she mouths the words. her hands begin to gesture, weaving intricate patterns in the air as she channels the swagger and confidence of her favorite artists. the bass thumps and bumps, the vibrations resonating deep within her bones. mijin feels alive, energized by the music and the freedom of expression it brings. her entire being seems to vibrate with the rhythm, her very essence infused with the raw energy of the rap.

in this private world of sound and motion, mijin is unstoppable, a force of nature unencumbered by the worries and cares of the outside world. she's lost in the music, and the music is lost in her.

wujin walks over to the three of you, his eyes scanning your peaceful faces with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. he squats down in front of you, his voice loud and jarring as he speaks. "what's going on here?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "are you guys having some kind of meditation party or something?" he gazes at each of you in turn, his eyes lingering on your calm expressions. "you know, i didn't realize we were in a zen monastery. i thought we were stuck in a storage closet in our school gym." wujin's words are like a splash of cold water, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere you'd managed to create. you feel a jolt of annoyance at his interruption, but you try to maintain your calm demeanor.

namra lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still closed, as if reluctant to leave the peaceful state she'd achieved. mijin, on the other hand, smacks her lips in annoyance, her eyes snapping open to glare at wujin. "men ruin everything," she mutters, her voice dripping with exasperation, as she gets to her feet. namra follows suit, her movements graceful and fluid. as she stands up, she turns to you and smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. it's a warm, comforting smile, and you feel a sense of solidarity with her. you take a deep breath, feeling the calmness begin to seep away, and get to your feet as well. the three of you stand there for a moment, a sense of shared understanding passing between you, before

mijin turns and walks away, namra following close behind.

wujin's face reddens as he stutters, "w-wait,!" he takes a step forward, his eyes darting between mijin and namra as he defends himself. "y/n is a man too!" he exclaims, as if that somehow justifies his behavior. just then, hroryeong walks into the conversation, a sly grin spreading across her face. "a good one!" she says, as she rolls her eyes at wujin. “the special treatment is getting out of hand..” wujin sighs defeated while going to cheongsan who patted him on the back.

you shake your head, a smile still playing on your lips, as you watch the exchange between wujin and hroryeong. your hair falls across your forehead, partially covering your eyes, and you absently brush it aside, your fingers grazing your skin.

as you move your hair, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mind's eye, and you can't help but think that your hair must look completely flat and lifeless. you've been cooped up in this place for who knows how long, and you haven't exactly had access to a salon or even a decent hairbrush. you sigh to yourself, wondering what you must look like to the others.

as mijin swiftly changes the subject, the atmosphere shifts and everyone begins to prepare for what's to come. the room fills with the sound of rustling fabrics, clicking buckles, and the occasional grunt as people struggle to get into their gear. knee pads, chest padding, and elbow guards are all being strapped on, each person determined to be ready.

you, meanwhile, are rummaging through a box tucked away on a high shelf, your fingers searching for the perfect pair of protective gloves. as you pull out a pair of worn leather gloves, you wonder if they're from a hockey set – the padding on the palms and the reinforced fingers seem to suggest it. you quickly lace them up, tightening the straps around your wrists until they feel secure. a quick flex of your fingers confirms that you can still grasp objects without issue.

just as you're finishing up, your gaze falls upon a mysterious object tucked away between two crates. it's a thick, metal... something, and it seems to be beckoning you. without thinking, you reach in and wrap your gloved hand around it, feeling a satisfying weight to it. it's heavy, but not unmanageable. as you pull it out, you can't help but wonder what it is, and what it's used for.

as you grasp the mysterious object, you notice a white cover enveloping it, shaped like a long, slender stick. your curiosity piqued, you search for a zipper and, upon finding it, slowly unzip the cover. the sound of the zipper giving way is followed by a collective gasp as the object within is revealed: a sword.

at first glance, it's reminiscent of a fencing sword, but the blade's thickness tells a different story. as you carefully pull the sword from its cover, it emits a clear, ringing sound – a "shling" that sends shivers down your spine. you can't help but stare in awe, the sword's beauty and craftsmanship leaving you breathless.

this is undoubtedly an upgrade from the hammer, and you can't wait to try it out. your friends, equally captivated, gather around, their eyes wide with wonder. "wow!" mijin exclaims, her voice barely above a whisper.

joonyeong, meanwhile, rushes over to you, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in the sight of the sword. "where did you find that?" he asks, his voice filled with excitement.

daesu, not one to be left out, chimes in, "yah! see if there's one more!" but before you can respond, joonyeong speaks up, his eyes still fixed on the sword.

"there isn't another one," he says, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and reverence. he looks up at you, his eyes shining with excitement. "do you know what this is?" he asks, but you can only shake your head, feeling a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

joonyeong turns to the others, a sly grin spreading across his face. "this, my friends, is a damn hanwei katana." wujin and cheongsan spring to their feet, their eyes wide with astonishment. "you're telling me someone just casually stashed a limited edition katana in our school's dusty auditorium?" wujin asks incredulously, his voice dripping with skepticism. "what an idiot," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. "that belongs in a glass case, not collecting dust in some forgotten corner of the school."

hari rolls her eyes good-naturedly at her brother's outburst, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "it's gotta be destiny that you found it here," she says, her voice filled with a sense of wonder.

joonyeong's expression turns serious as he looks at you, his eyes burning with intensity. "this is no ordinary sword," he says, his voice low and measured. "it's a powerful symbol, one that demands respect and caution."

taken aback by joonyeong's solemnity, you clear your throat before offering a awkward smile. "i guess it's about time i had some good karma," you say, trying to lighten the mood.

joonyeong's expression remains serious as he hands the sword back to you. "listen, you need to be careful if you're going to use this," he warns, his voice firm but concerned. "one wrong move, and you could slice someone's hand off." you nod soberly, feeling a sense of responsibility wash over you as you take the sword back.

you carefully slide the sword back into its cover, the sound of the zipper echoing through the air as everyone around you scrambles to arm themselves. metal baseball bats and sharp objects are distributed among the group, each person preparing to defend themselves. you tie the sword's belt around your waist, tightening it until the weight of the sword feels secure against your hip. suhyeok hands a baseball bat to cheongsan, his voice low and serious. "i'll take point, you cover our backs." cheongsan nods, his grip on the bat tightening as the group begins to form a tight circle.

metal crates are pushed into place around them, forming a makeshift barricade. mijin's voice trembles slightly as she speaks, her fear protruding. "you better be right about this,” joonyeong nods, “we've seen so many zombies already... they're not smart enough for this." joonyeong's expression remains calm, reassuring.

“lets do this!”

everything unfolded in a chaotic blur, your brain struggled to keep pace. fragmented images sear themselves into your mind: joonyeong's face contorted in agony, hroryeong's tears streaming down her face as she cowers beside you. your legs tremble beneath you, muscles screaming in protest as you push with every ounce of strength you possess. cheongsan's frantic yells echo in your ears, urging you to keep pushing, to keep fighting.

as the chaos subsided, you're left sitting in stunned silence, exhaustion washing over you like a wave. the same feeling of numbness, of detachment, that you experienced when you were trapped in that car comes flooding back. it's as if life itself has lost all meaning, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. why has this feeling returned? what triggered it? the questions swirl in your mind, but the answers remain elusive. what even happened? what is happening now.

you're lost in a world of silence, oblivious to mijin's repeated attempts to rouse you. but then, as if a switch has been flipped, your hearing suddenly returns to normal. "y/n!" mijin's voice cuts through the fog, and you turn to her in confusion. she's standing beside you, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "cmon, we need to go," she says, trying to sound harsh but failing miserably. she knows all too well what you're going through, and her words come out laced with empathy.

you blink once, twice, and suddenly the world around you snaps into focus. you're sitting outside the gym, the bright sunlight a stark contrast to the darkness you'd faced just moments before. and then you see him - onjo's father, embracing cheongsan in a tight hug. memories come flooding back, and you recall the desperation, the feeling of being trapped. the doors had been locked, impassable... until they weren't. a man in a green bomber jacket had appeared, his face etched with the same exhaustion and terror that you felt. he'd been through the same hell, and somehow, he'd managed to unlock the doors and save you all.

you gaze down at your hands, surprised to find them steady and still. normally, they'd be shaking uncontrollably, but not today. today, they're calm, serene even. you can't help but wonder why. everyone around you seems to be trembling with fear, their eyes wide with anxiety. but you... you're numb. your gaze drifts up, past mijin, to suhyeok, who's staring down at his feet with a look of shame etched on his face. you've seen that expression before, just last night, when the two of you were arguing. the memory replays in your mind like a broken record, refusing to be silenced.

mijin's gentle tug on your arm breaks the spell, and you allow her to help you up. as you stand, you try to shake off the haze, to regain some semblance of clarity. but your mind remains foggy, refusing to cooperate.

mr. nam's concerned voice cuts through the din, "are you kids alright?" he scans the group, his eyes lingering on each of you before moving on. when his gaze falls on you, it pauses, and you sense a flicker of surprise. you follow his gaze to your shirt, and your eyebrow twitches in confusion. a portion of the fabric is torn, leaving a gaping hole. not again. you try to recall when it happened, but your brain refuses to cooperate. you grasp the torn fabric, willing yourself to remember, but the memories remain elusive.

mr. nam's voice cuts through the silence, "okay, are you all able to run?" the group exchanges hesitant glances before nodding in unison, still refusing to speak. mr. nam sighs, a mix of relief and concern etched on his face. "good."

he takes a deep breath before issuing instructions, "if you go straight through the tennis courts and pass the construction site, you'll hit the mountain." he points behind you, and you turn to follow his gesture, taking in the makeshift plan he's devised.

but before you can even process the information, your hand is grasped, and you're suddenly pulled into a sprint. you stumble forward, regaining your balance as you take in the chaos around you. everyone is scrambling, running up the hill near the gym, desperate to escape the horrors behind them.

you glance back, and your heart sinks. more of the infected are closing in, their twisted faces contorted in a snarl. you whip your head back around, focusing on the path ahead. your legs pump furiously as you push yourself to keep up. it's then that you notice suhyeok's hand still grasping yours, his grip tight as he pulls you along.

mr. nam's voice echoes from behind, "the tennis courts! run!" the sound of heavy footsteps and ragged breathing fills the air as your group sprints towards the gate. daesu's shout of "c'mon!" urges you on as wujin finally reaches the door and flings it open. everyone pours inside, a chaotic tide of panicked bodies.

you release suhyeok's hand as you enter, taking a moment to ensure everyone makes it in safely. hari's struggling to fend off an infected with her bow, but she's suddenly tackled by another. mr. nam leaps into action, saving her from the brink of disaster. "hurry!" you shout, relief washing over you as hari stumbles through the gate, unscathed.

mr. nam slams the gate shut behind her, and the group takes off, racing towards the far end of the tennis court. but as you run, you realize with a sinking feeling that the zombies can still see you, their moans and screams growing louder as they give chase. everyone skids to a stop, frantically scanning their surroundings for an escape. "oh fuck.." you gulp, a cold dread creeping up your spine.

wujin's voice trembles as he asks daesu, "what do we do?" the group's panic is palpable, and you can't help but wonder if you've simply traded one trap for another. in an instant, the gates that had been locked just moments before burst open, succumbing to the crushing pressure of the zombie horde. the bloody, snarling mass surges forward, their eyes fixed on you with an unrelenting hunger. you react instinctively, grabbing hroryeong's arm and pulling her close as you take off in a sprint.

cheongsan leaps into action, wielding his bat with deadly precision as he smashes aside the zombies that aren't tangled in the tennis net. the sound of crunching bone and snapping metal fills the air, a grim testament to his determination.

meanwhile, mr. nam rummages through his bag, producing a red stick that he flicks open with a practiced motion. a blazing red flare erupts from the stick, its intense light and ear-piercing whistle drawing the zombies' attention like moths to a flame. the creatures inside and outside the court converge on the flare, their mindsless bodies driven solely by their insatiable hunger.

seizing the distraction, you spin hroryeong around, shouting to the others, "c'mon, guys!" the group gives chase, hot on your heels as you make a beeline for the opposite door.

just as you're about to grab the handle, a tan, larger hand clamps down on yours, holding you back. suhyeok's eyes scan the surrounding area, his gaze darting back and forth before nodding in satisfaction. with a gentle tug, he opens the gate, allowing you and hroryeong to slip through, the others close behind.

you spin around, ensuring everyone's safe exit, but your gaze falls upon a scene that makes your heart sink. mr. nam has closed the gate behind onjo and cheongsan, trapping them outside. onjo's face contorts in desperation as she rips away from cheongsan's grasp and slams into the gate, frantically trying to reopen it.

her words trail off as she notices the bite mark on her father's hand. tears well up in her eyes, and her face crumples in anguish. you watch, frozen in horror, as the reality of the situation sets in.

you tear your gaze away, looking toward the trees that lie ahead. you take a few hesitant steps forward, trying to get a better view of the path ahead. the trees seem to loom before you, their branches creaking ominously in the wind. you pause, unsure of what to do next, as the sounds of onjo's despairing cries echo through the air.

you take a few more cautious steps forward, scanning the trees for any signs of zombies. your eyes dart back and forth, searching for any movement or telltale signs of danger. but for now, the coast seems clear. the trees are so dense that you can't even see any buildings in the distance, which means it'll take some time to reach the construction site mr. nam mentioned.

just as you're starting to feel a sense of relief, you catch a glimpse of someone peeking around a tree. your heart skips a beat as the person quickly ducks back out of sight. a wave of unease washes over you. who - or what - was that? could it be a zombie that hasn't noticed you yet? or is it someone else, someone who might be a threat? you instinctively crouch down, trying to make yourself as small and quiet as possible.

you take slow, deliberate steps towards the nearest tree, trying to be just as sneaky as the mysterious person. your senses are on high alert, ready for whatever might be lurking just out of sight.

you focus intently on the person, your eyes squinting as you try to make out any distinguishing features. the person darts to another tree, using it as cover. you hold your breath, waiting for them to make another move.

and then, in a flash, the person takes off again, giving you a better look. it's a man, dressed in a plaid shirt that's even more tattered than yours. his baggy jeans are torn and frayed, and he's clutching something in his hand, though you can't quite make out what it is.

just as you're taking in this information, you hear the sound of footsteps rushing towards you, accompanied by heavy breathing. you swiftly move behind your tree, out of sight, and signal for your friends to stop. you press a finger to your lips, warning them to be quiet.

daesu, who's in the lead, looks at you with confusion etched on his face. you slowly point in the direction of the mysterious man, and your friends quickly hide behind nearby trees, thinking that zombies are approaching. namra slips behind the same tree as you, her voice barely above a whisper. "it's a human." she breathes, confirming your suspicions. you glance at her, nodding in agreement.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you draw out your sword, holding it with both hands as you press your back against the tree. you're poised, ready to swing into action at a moment's notice.

wujin mouths to you from his hiding spot behind a large tree, where hroryeong is also concealed, "you don't even know how to use that!" his eyes sparkling with frustration. you roll your eyes good-naturedly and mouth back, "it's gotta be the same as a baseball bat." wujin's expression turns incredulous, and he rolls his eyes in response. just then, the sound of snapping branches and crunching leaves fills the air as the mysterious person approaches. you tense, ready to react. with a swift motion, you step out from behind the tree, sword at the ready. the blade comes to rest against the person's adam's apple, and they freeze, eyes wide with fear.

the person hastily drops their weapon and raises their hands in surrender. "wait!" they exclaim, taking in the sight of multiple young adults emerging from the trees. "i mean no harm to any of you!" they declare, attempting to sound brave despite the quiver in their voice.

his eyes meet yours, and you take in his features. he's gotta be older than you, with that strong, toned build and a few scratch marks on his face. despite his rugged appearance, there's something about him that seems... put together. hroryeong asks quietly, "w-whats your name?" breaking the silence. she suddenly feels like speaking for some reason.

wujin gently pushes down on your hands, signaling for you to lower the sword. you realize you're still holding it up and begin to sheathe it. the boy takes advantage of the distraction to slowly retrieve his axe, his movements cautious. “kyungho, im a senior at bomoon high.” as he stands up, you can't help but notice his stature. he's tall, with broad shoulders and a rugged build that makes him look like an actual lumberjack. cheongsan steps forward and asks, "is bomoon high infected too?" but you're too busy taking in kyungho's appearance to focus on the conversation.

daesu whispers to suhyeok, "how is he still so handsome even though he's all dirty like us?" but his voice carries, and the whole group hears him. kyungho's face flushes, and he looks down, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. he smiles awkwardly, his eyes meeting yours, and you feel a flutter in your chest.

kyungho's eyes lock onto yours, and he says, "hey, i know you." you're taken aback, unsure of what to say. "me?" you ask, incredulous. the group's attention shifts to you, their faces filled with curiosity. mijin steps forward, her arm crossed, her expression skeptical. "you know him, y/n-ah?" she asks, her tone implying she doesn't quite trust kyungho. you shake your head, "n-no, i don't think..." but kyungho interrupts, taking a step forward. "you're that kid in the bike store!" he exclaims, a smile spreading across his face.

daesu whispers to suhyeok, "he called him a kid when they're only a year apart.." his voice is laced with amusement, as if he's watching a show. suhyeok's eyebrows furrow, his expression unreadable as he takes in the interaction between you and kyungho.

the memories of kyungho come flooding back, and you're surprised you didn't recognize him at first. he looked so beat up, but now that you remember, you recall the cute boy you had followed into the bike store. your face grows hot as you realize everyone is still staring at you, awaiting your response.

"right... i remember now," you stammer, trying to play it cool. "it's good to see you." you manage a small smile, but you can't help the way your heart skips a beat as kyungho's eyes lock onto yours. you feel yourself melting under his gaze, and you look away, trying to compose yourself. but you can't shake off the feeling that kyungho's eyes are still on you, and you sneak a glance back at him. his expression is soft, and he's smiling at you, making your heart flutter even more.

“why is y/n so shy..?” daesu's whisper is cut off as suhyeok steps forward, his tall, athletic build positioning him slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from kyungho. the two of them are almost evenly matched in height and build, although kyungho appears slightly more muscular.

suhyeok's gaze is skeptical as he asks, "so you're saying you made it all the way from bomoon high, by yourself?" kyungho's eyes flicker to suhyeok, and he nods calmly. "yeah, today was the day some of the seniors went into the city for a project, and suddenly a bunch of those zombies got into the cafe we were at. luckily, i escaped through the back door," kyungho explains, pointing back in the direction he came from. "so i traveled all this way to find someone, and i've been on the run since."

wujin and daesu nod in unison, seeming to accept kyungho's story. you, however, are intrigued by his survival skills. "how could you survive by yourself for this long?" you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. kyungho holds up a finger, as if to say "wait," before slipping off the long tote bag he'd been carrying on his back. he rummages through it, revealing a stash of food and snacks that makes everyone's eyes widen in surprise.

"i managed to break into a convenience store," he explains, a hint of pride in his voice. "so that's where i've been staying. i've been looking for people who survived, but you guys are the first people i've seen in days." the group's reaction is immediate. everyone's eyes light up at the sight of food, and they exchange excited glances. kyungho's face breaks out into a warm smile as he continues, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "we can all head back! i'll show you guys. you can eat and sleep for the night." his enthusiasm is infectious, and the group's mood begins to lift at the prospect of food and shelter.

kyungho tosses a loaf of bread to daesu, who catches it and immediately tears into it, savoring the taste. hroryeong speaks up, "that'd be great," but cheongsan cuts her off, his expression apologetic.

"we can't," he says, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. "i'm sorry, but we're trying to get out of the city." your heart sinks, realizing that you won't be able to rest and eat in a safe place after all. kyungho's face falls, but he quickly recovers, his expression curious. "oh, well, me too!" he exclaims, zipping up his bag. "where are you guys headed?" suhyeok takes over, explaining, "there's a construction site down that way. we need to pass it to get to the mountain." kyungho's eyes light up with interest, and he nods, as if considering something.

kyungho glances back in the direction he came from, a thoughtful expression on his face. "i mean, i can go with you guys if you'd allow me," he says, turning back to the group. "but the store isn't that far from here. we could make it and go first thing tomorrow. come on, you guys look like death." he tries to persuade the group, his eyes locked on cheongsan.

you turn to cheongsan, your eyes pleading. "we won't survive long out there if we don't eat and rest properly. one night," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. the rest of the group's bodies seem to be echoing your plea, their tired and starving eyes begging for relief.the group falls silent for almost a minute, the only sound the heavy breathing of exhausted bodies. cheongsan looks at suhyeok, who's shaking his head in disagreement, but then his gaze sweeps the rest of the group, taking in their desperate expressions. finally, he nods. "lead the way," he says to kyungho, who grins triumphantly.

"awesome, come on," kyungho says, gesturing for the group to follow him. "if we move quickly and quietly, we'll get there in no time." you thank cheongsan before falling in behind kyungho, who takes the lead. suhyeok crosses his arms, looking disbelieving, but the rest of the group follows kyungho, their footsteps quiet and hopeful.