#I’m debating is it that I’m fine with any pronouns or that I use all pronouns

[w3ndytheraccoon]

Ik I said I’m fine with any pronouns, and I am !

But. But that feel when someone call me a boy. That feel when someone call me mister. That feel when someone call me anything vaguely masculine. The disappointment when they correct themselves and call me a girl instead.

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[xotaemintol]

MARKHYUCK X FEMBLACK READER //APT.// <PT.1>

♡ “All you gotta do is meet me at the…” ♡

[She/Her pronouns, plus size friendly. Warning, this fanfiction will contain; heavy drinking, cursing, drunk sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, kissing, unprotected sex, implications of cheating, and more. Part one contains; Heavy Drinking, stripping, and cursing. If any of these things are triggering for you, please look away, thank you.]

[What is APT? 아파트 (AH/PA/TU), is an Korean drinking game. Two players or more stack their hands and chant: “아파트, 파트, 아파트, 파트, 아파트.” as they wave their hands, alternating them between each other. One player picks a number and another counts, as this player counts everyone moves their hands to the top starting from the bottom. The player with their hand on the top takes a shot and the game continues.]

(Please ignore any mistakes 😭 this was deleted 2 times, and I’ve rewritten all of this from memory, so bear with me. I’m also debating on finishing this, but you let me know what I should do.)

Leave it to Jisung Park to cancel plans he made at the last minute. You should’ve known better than to listen to him when he said he wanted to join Mark and Haechan to throw you a small house warning party. Not even 30 minutes later and he had already backtracked.

“Sorry, I can’t make it tonight, another night okay?” He said. You could strangle him. You had ordered enough food to feed four grown men, and just as you expected, he canceled.

But, luckily for you Mark and Donghyuck were on there way. They sent a text to the groupchat reassuring you that they’d be coming tonight, unlike Jisung.

You sigh and grab three shot glasses to sat them on the coffee table. Placing them down you smile. At least you can count on the two of them, so you don’t feel too bad. It’s not even 15 minutes after their text that you hear your doorbell ring, excited, you squeal and rush over to the door as you call out in a singing tone; “Coming!”

You check the small monitor beside the door, just to be sure that it’s them before—just as you assumed, it is. With a large smile on your face you open the door and squeal happily.

“You came!” You hug them both as Mark laughs. “Duh, we told you we were.” Haechan says jokingly in a snarky tone.

You roll your eyes playfully and look down at the bags in his hands. “Whoa, is that just alcohol?” You ask. Mark nods, “I told him we don’t need that much, but he said-“ “What’s a house warming party without enough alcohol to kill a bear?” You laugh and nod your head in agreement as you step aside to let them in.

Mark shakes his head, they take off their shoes by the door and you lead them back inside.

“It’s just the three of us though, we can’t drink all of that.” Mark agrees with you, but Haechan only waves the two of you off. “It’ll be fine, you can keep whatever you don’t drink tonight—think of it as a gift from your favorite man.” You snicker and sit down on the floor in front of your couch.

They look around the apartment for a second before sitting down. “Damn, this might be nicer than my place.” Mark says. You scoff and look up at him with a smile, “You mean your hundred billion dollar apartment? Yeah, right.” Haechan grunts softly as he sits on the couch beside you.

He sits the bags down on the table and begins to empty the contents out. “Might be? Mark could spend ten billion dollars and his apartment would still suck compared to yours.” You watch as he empties the bottles out of the bags. “What? Why?” Mark asks. Haechan look at him with a smug expression and says; “Because, your apartment doesn’t have a pretty woman.” He says simply.

“Yours doesn’t have one either.” “Says who? Y/N comes over all the time.” “Sure she does. She basically lived with me before she moved.” The pair continue to bicker, but your attention shifts to the sheer amount of alcohol Donghyuck bought. Silently, you count the bottles.

‘1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11…’

Your eyes widen and you turn to Haechan saying; “How much do you expect us to drink tonight? Aren’t you both lightweights?!” Mark immediately disagrees, so does Donghyuck. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

_

After giving them a tour of your apartment, you decided that it would be nice to watch a movie while waiting for the food to come. None of the three of you had even acknowledged the bottles of soju sitting on the table. You were too busy trying to figure out what to do next to beat the settling boredom.

“Let’s watch another movie.” You suggest, “There’s nothing to watch.” Donghyuck states. You hum softly as you scroll through the endless movies on the screen. “Terrifier?” Mark immediately disagrees. “Absolutely not, it’s just gore and cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Ballerina?” “We watched that last month.” “A quiet place?” “No, we watched that too.”

You continue going back and forth with Mark until Haechan finally speaks up and says; “Let’s play 아파트!” You turn to look at Haechan and with a confused expression you ask; “What’s that?” He grins.

“A drinking game.” He slips off the couch and sits on the floor beside you. “So, we all put our hands on top of each others and go ‘아파트 파트, 아파트 파트,아파트 파트.’ And then we start move our hands up to the top of the stack and then who’s ever hand is on top has to drink.” You stare at Donghyuck slightly confused, slowly nodding your head with a puzzled expression.

He shakes his head and sucks his teeth. “Mark,” he says, “Come here.” Mark—seemingly already knowing what the game is, sits beside you on the floor and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’ll show you.” Mark puts his hand in the middle and Haechan places his hand on top, Mark puts his hand above Haechans and then Haechan puts his other above Marks.

“Okay, now—since I suggested the game, we say ‘Hyuck’s game, Donghyuck game, game start’ and then we wave are hands like this.”

To demonstrate, they begin waving their hands while alternating which one is on top and which one is on the bottom while chanting; “아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트.” When they stop Haechan’s hand is on the bottom, while one of Mark’s is on the top. “Okay, so since my hand is on the bottom, I pick a number and Mark counts.” You nod and watch. “9.” Mark rolls his eyes and sighs before counting to nine.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.” After counting Mark’s hand is on top again. “Since Mark’s hand is on top he has to take a shot, and then it’s his turn to choose and I count.” He says, “Sounds easy, right?” You nod, this time fully understanding.

“Yeah, easy when he isn’t cheating.” Mark mutters, “There is no cheating, you’re just bad at the game.”

_

After just 20 minutes Mark is 5 shots deep, you’re 4, and Haechan is only 1. You quickly realized after your third shot that Donghyuck is strangely good at this game, and Mark is strangely bad at it. Luckily, it was your turn and you were really starting to grasp how to win.

“아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!” The three of you chant, your hand ends on the bottom and you look over at Haechan with a grin. His poker face is killer. He’s been so calm this whole time, laughing as you and Mark—mostly Mark, filled your glasses to the brim and took shot after shot. But you can’t let him win, so before shouting out a number you think. You glance around you for a second before hesitantly shouting out; “7!”

Mark begins to count and you nervously move your hands upward. “5, 6, 7.” “YES!” You jump up as Donghyuck’s hand lands on top. You laugh as he presses his tongue against his cheek, chuckling as Mark pats his shoulder. “Bottoms up Hyuck!” You tease.

You quickly sit down and pour his shot, pouring until the alcohol is almost overflowing. “Drink! Drink! Drink!” He laughs in amusement at your cute reaction and takes the shot to his head. Just like the first one, he makes it look easy.

As he sits his glass down you gasp and lean onto Mark in a playful manner, you place on hand on his chest and the other on his thigh. "Watch out Mark," You say in a fake whisper; "I think he's planning something." But Mark doesn't respond. His foggy mind is distracted by the smell of your lotion.

Usually he's used to you being so close, but in his impaired state he feels a little shameless. His desire to get a better smell of your scent is a little stronger than his morality, so, he leans in close to smell you a little more. But, just as he does you turn around and look at him. He flinches back and quickly looks away from you, turning red from his neck up as he nervously laughs.

"Be careful, we can't let him win." You add. Haechan, who watched silently laughs and adds in a teasing tone. "Yeah Markie Pooh, don't let me win." You snap your head over to Haechan and jokingly poke his chest as you glare at him. "I'm watching you, don't get cocky Hyuck." He smirks and looks down at you with his eyebrows raised. "Watch all you want," He says. "I don't mind."

You laugh and roll your eyes as you sit up. "Alright. Let's keep going."

The game continues and once again the three of you begin the chant. This time, Mark's hand is at the bottom and Donghyuck counts. Just as expected your hand ends up on top. "Damn it!"

You grab your glass and Haechan fills it to the brim. You huff and quickly down the drink, "Alright! Let's go." Haechan laughs and nods.

"아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!" This time, his hand is at the bottom. "8." Haechan calls out. Mark inhales deeply and begins to count. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8." You silently prayed for Donghyuck's hand to end up on top—but, conveniently for him, this time it's Mark.

You grab another bottle of soju and fill Mark's shot glass. The game continues like this for another five minutes until it's finally Haechan's turn to drink again, but before taking his shot he looks at the two of you and says. "Let's make this more fun." "How?" You ask. His grin tells you that he has a mischievous idea in mind.

"Let's strip after every shot." He suggests. "What?! No!" "Okay." Your reaction is completely different from Mark's. In your mind, the added element of stripping would add a million times more thrill to the game. Currently, there isn't much at stake other than a hangover for everyone. But stripping, adds a certain type of excitement and risk that would make this game even more fun.

As you turn to Mark you ask; "Why not?" Donghyuck leans over your shoulder and repeats after you asking in a teasing tone; "Yeah Mark, why not?" Mark rolls his eyes but before he can respond you say; "C'mon Mark, it'll be fun!" Mark looks at the both of you for a second, the mischievous look on Haechan's face and the excited one on yours spell danger, but—he agrees either way.

"Okay, fine." "Yes!" Haechan takes his shot and this time, instead of continuing the game, he begins to peel his shirt off his body. As he does so you watch with wide and surprises eyes. As he does so you watch with wide and surprises eyes. You grin as he tosses his shirt aside and reach to touch his chest, but he covers his body with his arms and stops you.

"Uh, uh! This isn't free ma'am!" He says jokingly, "But for you..." He moves his arms and allows you to freely touch his chest. You laugh as your hands roam his chest saying; "I love this game." You look over at Mark and grin. "Sorry Mark," Your hand pauses for a moment and you give him a fake pout. "But I hope you lose."

"What?! Why?" Mark asks with a laugh, you grin and shrug your shoulders saying; "I gotta see how much you have in common with Spider-Man." He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but Haechan laughs at your joke.

"Whatever, let's keep playing."

Again the chanting starts. "아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!" Now that the stakes have been raised, every time the word leaves your mouth your hands feel sweater and your heart seems to beat a little faster. A mixture between excitement and anxiety fill your drunken body, and when your hands finally stop—with yours at the bottom, you almost jump up in excitement as you yell out; "YES!"

They laugh at your excitement, but as soon as you throw out a number, Mark's laughter stops. Donghyuck counts and your hands begin to move. "3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10." "DAMN IT!" Mark curses as his hand ends up on top, but you can't help but cheer. "Yeah baby! Strip! Strip! Strip!" Haechan laughs loudly at your reaction and at Mark's loss as he pours him a shot, only filling the glass half way this time.

Mark huffs loudly and takes it, he slowly drinks it down and then slams the glass on the table. "Take it off! Take it off! Take-" You stop and cover your mouth as he glares at you playfully. You retreat to Haechan and lean your back against him while chanting a bit quieter, "Take it off, take it off." Haechan now following along behind you to further antagonize Mark.

Reluctantly, Mark slowly strips himself of his shirt—only to reveal a white tank top underneath his T-shirt.

“Aw man! What the hell?” You roll your eyes in annoyance and sit up. Mark can’t help but laugh at your reaction. “What?” He teases, “Were you that excited to see me naked?” With zero hesitation you say yes. “Why are you wearing two shirts anyways?” “I always wear an under shirt.” You roll your eyes and look away from him.

“Yeah, alright.”

The game continues and this time Mark’s hand is at the bottom, the two of you stare at him—waiting for him to shout out a number. You can tell he’s nervous from the way his eyes dart around. His cute smile as he thinks gives you butterflies.

“Uhm, 12!” You laugh and shake your head as you begin to count. “1, 2, 3…” You slowly, the anticipation is killing Mark, but entertaining for you and Haechan. “7, 8, 9, 10, 11…” You laugh, knowing that it’ll be on Mark again and finally say 12. Mark groans loudly as Haechan bursts into laughter.

“Take it off! Take it off!” This time, you’re fully expecting him to take off his shirt. But of course not. “Socks count as clothing.” Mark says. You whine and roll your eyes. “What?! How! That’s not even fair!” Haechan stops you and says in a calm tone. “No no, let him take of his socks.” “After that, he’ll have to take his shirt off.”

You look at Donghyuck and softly gasp in excitement. “You’re right!” Mark laughs in disbelief at the both of you and takes both his socks off.

As the game starts again you feel even more determined. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the room suddenly feels a bit hotter. Tension rises with every second but it only makes the game even more entertaining.

Your hands stop again, but this time Haechan’s hand on the bottom.

In a relaxed manner Haechan calls out his number; “7.” Both you and Mark, are expecting him to have set up Mark to take his shirt off, it only makes sense. Nervously, Mark begins to count, but unexpectedly, your hand ends up on top. “NO!” Mark laughs as he claps his hands. “Ha!” Donghyuck joins him and pours your shot.

“Whatever, youll end up taking it off either way.” You take off your shirt and then drink the alcohol in your glass. When you sit it down the two of them are shamelessly, staring at your breast.

“If you’re gonna stare at least don’t make it so obvious.” You joke. “Hey, it’s not my fault your heart is behind your breasts.” Haechan says, you laugh and playfully shove him as Mark sits silently, turning red as he tries his hardest not to stare.

“Okay, let’s go.”

This time, the chanting is a lot slower. The game feels more fun, but you also feel a little anxious. Sitting between the two of them like this isn’t completely out of the ordinary, you’ve changed in front of them more times than you can count on your fingers and toes—but something about this, the energy and the heat radiating of their bodies makes it feel different.

“아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트…” repeating the process, only this time you’ve picked the number—Haechan counts and your hands move. Your breathing becomes deeper and slower. Finally, your hands stop and to your luck, Mark’s hand is on top .

You high five Donghyuck before pouring Mark’s shot, only filling it half way. “Drink up.” Mark shakes his head and picks up the glass. He takes a second before sipping it down, and when it’s all gone he sits it down then slowly slips his shirt off.

He tossing his shirt next to yours, before he can say anything your hands are already on his body as if they have a mind of their own. He doesn’t even stop you. Instead he watches with a smirk on his flushed face

“Are you happy now?” He asks, you nod and look at him. “Very.” You respond. He leans his head back and smiles with his tongue pressed against his cheek, “You act like you’ve never seen us without a shirt on before.” Haechan says. “Yeah, but usually y’all act like I’m a criminal for looking.” Mark grabs your hands and raises his eyebrow at you. “You’re acting like one.” He says playfully.

You laugh and put your hands up. “Can you blame me?” “Yes.” Again, the game starts. “아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!” The pace picks up again as excitement builds and your hand is on the bottom. “13!” Mark counts, his speed also picking up. “9, 10, 11, 12, 12!”

The two of them cheer loudly as you hand lands on top. “Let’s go!” Mark shouts, they high five and laugh—but after you’ve taken your shot they both realize what comes next and their excite smiles slowly fade.

“Oh, wait. You don’t have to-“ Before Mark can finish you stand up and begin unbuttoning your pants. “Rules are rules.” You shove your pants down, trying not to let your underwear get caught—when they’re down to your calf’s you place your hand on Haechan’s shoulder to keep your balance.

You struggle to get them off your leg, it only hits you now just how drunk you are. Luckily, Mark notices and helps you. He looks up at you as he slowly slides the pant leg down your calf, the look in his hazy eyes is a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Your own reflection almost the same thing.

You look down at him a little longer, staring into his eyes as the tension stirs—quickly becoming sexual. It’s only when Haechan clears his throat that you look away. You chuckle anxiously and stumble a little as you place your other hand on Marks shoulder so you can get the other leg down. But just as Mark did, Haechan helps you get it off.

Placing one hand on your foot and the other on your knee, just above your shin he looks up at you with a look similar to Marks. A confident one, one that’s equally as sexual. His hand slowly slides down your leg to push the fabric off your—now, warm skin. When it’s bunched up at the bottom he pulls it all the way down then tosses them to the side with his own shirt.

Slowly, you sit down with the help of Haechan and inhale deeply.

“Should we keep going?” He asks, you nod your head and then look to Mark who seemed to be waiting for your answer before giving his own. “You aren’t gonna quit now, right?” Mark shakes his head. “What about you?” Haechan shakes his head as well. “Okay, good!”

You clap your hands together and put them in the middle, they quickly follow suit—in your stomach the heat you felt becomes a scorching sensation. As you move your hands the tingling sensation in the depths of your body becomes stronger.

“9.” Mark says. As he slurs his words, Haechan counts to nine. Mark moves his hand, then you move yours, then Haechan, then Mark, then you, then Haechan, then Mark, then you again, and finally Haechan.

Standing up Haechan locks his lips and slowly pulls the strings to his feet sweats loose. As they come undone you feel a soft throb between your legs, you watch shamelessly. Too intoxicated to pretend that you hadn’t ever thought about a moment like this. He slowly shoves them down his thighs, his face turning red as the bulge in his underwear is put on full display.

The moment you notice it you feel a sensation similar to having to pee, that heat quickly turns into a wetness.

Neither you or Mark make a comment about the erection in his boxers. At this point, you’re sure Mark must be on the same page. It’d be pointless to point it out.

“Should we keep going?” Mark asks, before Haechan could answer you respond for him. “Why would we stop?” Both your words are slurred. “Exactly, I’ll be damned if I’m the only one exposed tonight.” Donghyuck sits down and you laugh a little. “See, this is why I’m glad I don’t have a penis.” You comment, “What does that mean?” Donghyuck asks.

“Exactly what I said.” You look at him, but his expression makes you look away immediately. His eyes are low and the grin on his face makes you feel unbelievably horny. “But anyways…” You clear your throat and sit up. ‘Relax.’ You think to yourself. But the feeling between your legs is so intense already.

“C’mon, you said we should keep going.” Everyone places their hands in the middle again, but now, there’s no chant. You move your hands and when your hand is on the bottom, you give a number and silently pray that it doesn’t end up in you being completely bare. “1…2…3…4…5…6..7…8…” To your luck, Mark’s hand is on the top. This time, he doesn’t reach to grab his glass; instead, he stands up and unbuckles his belt.

Again, you sit mesmerized. Admiring the way his hands look as he yanks his belt through the loops, even in your drunken state you can still recall all the times you’ve thought about being on your knees in front of him as he took his pants off.

His belt hits the floor with a loud clanking sound, but you don’t look away to see where it landed; you’re too busy watching him remove his pants in a rushed manner. You lick your lips as you see the band of his boxers. Just like Donghyuck, when he’s finally removed them you can see that you were right. He’s in the same boat. The erection in his boxers is as clear as day…..

[guess-that-ship]

Guess That Ship Tournament Season 13: Badly Describe Your Ship! Submissions CLOSED

The Concept: You "badly" describe your ship* to me, I pick out the submissions which I find most funny and compelling and pit them against each other without revealing who they are, people vote on them, and their identities gets revealed once they’re eliminated.

Submission Guidelines

*For the purpose of this tournament, relationships do not have to be romantic in nature. (I’m sometimes going to use “ship” as a shorthand, just know I mean “relationships” in general.)

Relationship can be between any number of characters.

Real people are accepted if they’ve been dead for more than 100 years.

Roleplay characters are accepted as long as the description only pertains to the characters and not the players.

Crossover ships are only allowed if the crossover is official.

OCs are accepted. (However, OC x Canon is not accepted. Please do not submit other people's OCs without their permission.)

No overtly NSFW submissions. (Mentioning they have sex or are a sex worker is fine, but try to avoid anything more than that.)

Two submissions per person. (Do not submit the same ship twice. I cannot enforce this on Google Forms without forcing you to log in. So just be champs and respect this rule.)

Failure to follow these guidelines may result in all of your submissions being disqualified for this season.

Summary Guidelines

Selection Process: I will read through the list of descriptions submitted without reading their names and pick the most funny and compelling submissions. Then, I will check the name to make sure there's no repeats.

Bring something unique to the table. Make sure to describe their relationship, not just summarize the events of the story.

The description of a badly-described ship is ideally one or two sentences long. Descriptions should not exceed 100 words.

Descriptions should be based on canon, not headcanon. (e.g. You can say “they love each other” instead of “they’re lovers” if their romantic nature is debatable.)

Avoid author commentary. (e.g. "They're canonically x," "I love them," "Play/watch/read this," etc.)

Use canonical pronouns.

Avoid identifying information or setting specific giveaways. (i.e. ninja village, space necromancers.)

When submitting OCs, please make sure to at least put a name somewhere. (e.g. "John and Bob by anonymous" or "OCs by Joey.")

The more popular your ship is the more vague the description should be.

I will be more lenient with submissions this season, given "badly" is subjective, but you should still keep these guidelines in mind when writing your summary.

Exclusions

Ships that were accepted in Season 7 onwards and ships that at least reached the semifinals in Season 1-6 are not allowed. For a complete list, please look here. (No need to look through the whole list, just Ctrl+F to find the ship you want.)

Any submissions from Harry Potter will also not be included.

Notes

I will not vet the ships/pairings for problematic content.

If you participate in this tournament, know that you run the risk of unintentionally voting for your nOTP. The mod does not take any responsibility for any distress that may cause you.

There will be a limit of one ship per media in the bracket. You may submit two ships from the same media, but keep in mind only one ship will be able to get in. (A series or franchise will generally count as one media, but they will be evaluated on a case by case basis.)

Submit your ships here! Submissions will be open until Sunday, October 6th at 9 PM EDT.

Please reblog this post to spread the word! The more submissions, the better!

[moodymisty]

Perhaps a 40k character of your choice and someone not very comfortable in their body? Shamelessly self inserting I guess. Thanks so much! ☺️

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Decided to do Guilliman. You didn’t specify anything (which is fine!) so I kept it vague for you. Enjoy!

Relationship: Guilliman/Fem!Reader(no pronouns are used, but reader compares themself to Fulgrim's wives and also mentions wanting a dress so femcoded one could say)

Warnings: None really

You wonder how Macaggian history can be so, boring. These history tomes Guilliman had given you while interesting, have largely been unbearably dull; Filled with little more than debate and the trials of leadership.

You had far preferred what Russ had once told you about the history of Fenris when you asked, though you’d never dare speak that to your beloved Primarch aloud.

Said primarch returns to your shared room not moments after you think of him, raking a hand through his own short blonde hair.

It’s quite late, the moon is high in the sky and has been for awhile now, and you assume he hasn’t had any rest in multiple days given you’ve seen little of him these past few. He’s been even busier than usual, since visiting Terra. Even if he has his Commanders take over a good portion of his duties while away from Ultramar, his duties on Terra tend to overtake his time and then some.

With nary a hello, Guilliman climbs onto the bed you’ve been reading in and swiftly lays down on it. The bed groans under his weight despite having been made for someone of his size.

He much larger hands reach to grip you by the waist and pull your closer, laying his face on your stomach overtop of the fabric of your nightgown. Your legs go over his left shoulder, as his left arm curls around your bottom, hip, and up your side to hold you close.

“Guilliman?”

He sighs into your belly.

“Give me a moment, if you will. I’m at my limit with these men today.” You assume he means his fellow primarchs. “Let me enjoy you for a bit now that I’m free of them for the time being.”

You want him to be happy, but you can’t help but shift a bit under him, nervous as he speaks so overtly, and touches you with so little hesitation.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” You whisper, nervously twirling a piece of his blonde and ever so slightly grey hair around your fingertip.

“Yes. You are perfect,” He says, your eyes widening at the declaration. You're so offset by it your mind wanders and can’t help but mumble:

“I find that hard to believe…”

You feel him suddenly tense, and he lifts his head to look at you.

“You do not believe me?”

He almost seems insulted by it; Like you think he’s a liar. You shake your head as you look away from his furrowed brow. You hadn’t expected him to spear you to the wall so harshly for your self-deprecating comment.

“No I just…” You grunt in frustration at not finding the right words. The Macragge tome he'd given you lays at your side, and you push it away a bit more. “I sometimes just think there are people out there far more, physically suited to stand beside you than me.” He loses some of his insulted demeanor, but his brow stays furrowed as you pick up pace and begin rambling.

“I mean, look at some of Fulgrim’s wives they-“ He cuts you off with his stoic, firm voice.

“You know how Fulgrim is. You know why and how they look the way they do.” He sighs, the wrinkles around his nose and eyes exaggerating for a moment. “Forget all of that.” He points a finger at you.

“And don’t bring him up again, I’ve had quite enough of him and his comments for quite some time.”

You smile a bit, and he softens. He’s glad you find his aggravation amusing somehow. You do wonder what Fulgrim commented about however; Though you know he has a habit of sometimes treading a bit too far into Roboute’s personal life. Into everyone's personal life honestly, though Roboute having you has made him the prime target of Fulgrim's gossip and colloquies.

His hand squeezes you reassuringly, arm continuing to awkwardly cradle you. He raises his other hand to brush his thumb across your cheek for a moment.

“You are perfect to me. You don’t need all of those lavish things.” He adds on. “Unless you want them, of course. I won’t deny you anything I can give.” Your smile gets wider, and he feels your body relax against him.

“I don’t need any of it,” You pause. “But if a dress showed up one day I wouldn’t complain, per se.”

Thankfully Guilliman can tell you’re clearly joking, and rolls his eyes. You speak up again a bit more subtly.

“Or maybe something a bit more, delicate? You could pick it.”

Guilliman takes a moment to catch your meaning before he awkwardly coughs, looks at you gentle but expectant smile.

“I’ll, see what I can do.”

Guilliman swiftly ends the topic by returning his head to lay on your stomach, and rest his eyes for a moment to the feeling of you raking your fingers through his hair.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Of Mice and... Heretics?

kai parker x reader

summary: of all the problems to have in mystic falls, yours is mice... luckily, kai comes to the rescue (heretic!kai) (soft!kai)

tags: anxiety, mice invasion 🐁, compulsion, heretics, found family, first kiss / kissing, fluff, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns used

word count: 4.3k

a/n: i have so many requests i'm working on, but i'm slightly tipsy and want to publish something, so here's a cute lil fluff piece 🩷

Fear is what woke him up this morning. Fear is what drove him to make his way across town. It is what brings him, now, to stand outside her porch, staring at the door. 

Something’s wrong. He can sense it. His fingers shake with nervous anticipation. 

There’s no sound coming from inside the house, yet the thought brings no comfort. 

Kai waits, desperate for a sound. Anything that could tell him she’s alright. He considers yelling out to her, but if she’s in danger, that could risk her life. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm his hands. 

But then it happens. The feeling that yanked him from his restless sleep returns, and a sharp arrow of panic hits him in the spine. Y/N’s heart rate speeds quickly, as if the organ is trying to jump out of her chest. A moment later, a rustling, then, she screams. Kai can hear her scrambling away from something, then barreling down the hall.

“Fuck!” She yells.

Kai can’t take it anymore. To hear her so afraid, yet resist helping. He knocks heavily on the door and calls her name. A wave of shock rushes through her, but she opens the door to him, nonetheless. 

“Kai?” She looks surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, princess.” He tries against the door, but hits a resistance. He’d never been inside her house. Kai stops immediately, not wanting her to get the wrong idea of him being there. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Am I…? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“What?” He’s confused now. Confused by her confusion as she acts like nothing’s wrong. As if she didn’t just scream and jolt in heavy panic. 

“Did something happen? At the grill?”

“No-”

“Are you hurt? Do you need-”

“I’m fine, princess. I’m asking if you’re hurt. Is there someone inside?”

“Someone… like as in… no? Do you mean…?” 

Y/N isn’t understanding his question. Kai grows more and more worried by the second. 

“I mean like is someone in your house right now? Are you in danger?”

“Danger? No. Why would you think that?”

Kai finally catches his breath for a moment. He rests a hand on the door frame.

“Are you okay?” She puts a hand on his shoulder, then looks out to the neighborhood. “Did you run here?”

“Yeah, I-” He’s still breathing heavily, unable to answer.

“Kai, what’s wrong? Did something happen in town? I didn’t get any messages from-”

“Nothing’s wrong in town. Everyone’s fine.”

“Then what’s wrong? Why are you so panicked?”

Kai debates telling the truth. She doesn’t need to know he cares for her. Yet… he can’t lie to those big, beautiful eyes. “I heard your heart pick up. I thought something was wrong.”

“You heard…?”

“I felt this weird feeling, like something wasn’t right, and then I heard your heart pick up, several times, over the course of ten or so minutes. Then I heard a scream, and you running down the hall, and I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“You…,” it hits her that he came to check on her, because he had an inkling that she might’ve needed help. “Kai… You ran across town to make sure I was okay?”

“I got worried. I’ve never felt so much anxiety in my life. My hands were shaking with the prospect that someone could’ve hurt you, or taken you.” He finally looks up. Never has she seen his eyes with so much emotion. 

She reaches out to his face, stroking a finger down his cheek. “I’m okay. I’m-” she pauses, “come inside.”

“What? Y/N-”

“Shh, come on in. It’s fine.”

Damon had specifically instructed her to never let the “big bad heretic” inside her home. No matter how much he’s “reformed” or “changing,” Damon didn’t trust him. Especially not with the kind, little human of Mystic Falls. 

Kai slowly follows her inside, a little nervous. She brings him to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair. 

“Sit.” He does. “Do you want a water?”

“Sure.”

“Good,” she mutters, retrieving a glass. “Drink that. She then joins the table with her own. 

“You promise you’re okay?” He asks after a sip. “Y/N… you sounded so scared.”

She smiles. “I, uh…” her eyes catch something in the corner of her kitchen. Her heart starts to race again and her smile fades. “Watch out!”

As soon as Kai follows her gaze, a streak of gray crosses the tile floor. She shrieks and bounces in her chair, tucking her legs under her. 

“Fuck!” She yells again.

In a second, it’s gone. But when Kai looks back at her, she looks as if she’s about to cry. 

“Hey,” he reaches towards her face, “what’s wrong? You okay?”

“It’s so annoying! I can’t deal with it anymore!”

“Talk to me, princess. What’s going on? Is that why you screamed earlier? What’s got you so afraid?”

She lifts her face, which is quickly staining with tears. “Ever since my parents died, I’ve had this big, stupid house to myself, and I’m not good at taking care of an entire house. And this winter’s been particularly shitty, and it seems all of the town’s fucking mice have decided to take up residency in it! I can’t take it anymore! I’m scared to sleep, I’m too disgusted to eat anything, and I have nowhere else to go!”

It all makes sense now. The sudden here and now patterns of fear; the short screams; the blink and you miss it streak of gray. Y/N has her hands over her face, blocking herself from Kai, embarrassed by her situation. Of all the problems to have in Mystic Falls, hers is mice. 

To Kai though, that’s much preferred over the recent problems they’ve faced. 

Like for example, his own species of heretics running loose. 

“Y/N, look at me.” He takes one of her hands, but she’s stubborn.

“I can’t.”

“Come on…”

“Kai…”

“Let me help you with this, okay? Whatever you need, let me do it. I can go get traps or clear out their hiding spots. Or we can call someone, like a professional, to do it.”

“I don’t want to burden you with it-”

“You’re not burdening me, Y/N, I care about you. I don’t want you to be in fear, or not be able to sleep and eat. And I have nothing better to do anyway, so I promise, you are not a burden.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, Y/N.”

She finally looks at him. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

Mmkay.” He fights the urge to kiss her hand when she offers it. Instead, he just helps her to her feet. “Show me where you’ve had the most problems.”

She takes a fire poker and stabs inside her kitchen pantry. Immediately, something rustles inside and she jumps. Kai catches her before she can tumble into him, having lost her balance. He picks her up and puts her on the counter. She doesn’t even resist. 

“Okay.” He takes the poker. “Here?”

“I don’t want you to get bit.” She prepares to jump down. 

He keeps her still with a hand on her knee. “Ah, ah, ah, you stay there. They can’t hurt me.” Kai pokes the spot - or rather, stabs hard enough to make a loud sound on the hardwood - and something runs. 

“Ah!” She screams, scrambling, and grabbing onto his shoulder as he backs up into her. His back makes contact with the counter, but he ends up between her legs. “You okay?”

“Startled me,” he admits. 

“It’s scary! They’re bold!”

“Very. Do you want to just call someone to deal with it, or do you want us to do this?” She doesn’t reply, thinking about her options, and he turns to her. One look at her face, though, and he makes the decision for her. “I’m going to call. I don’t want you dealing with this anymore. Certainly not putting you at risk for getting bit.”

“Okay.”

Within the next thirty minutes, Kai with his compulsion is able to get an exterminator out to her house. He walks through it, devises a plan, and then talks to them about it. 

“I’m assuming you’re her husband? Boyfriend?”

Before Kai can answer, she stutters to answer that he’s a friend. Kai swallows hard. He didn’t even know she considered him a friend.

“Oh, okay, apologies. Well your friend here is right, it’s a pretty big problem. But whether or not this is a comfort to you, we’ve had a lot of cases lately. Unfortunately, it might take a couple weeks for us to get some guys out here, but-”

“Weeks?” She asks, horrified. 

“Unfortunately, yes. I only have so many guys, and we have sixty other houses-”

Kai puts a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man. You’re going to make her your top priority. Tell your guys that her situation is dire, and she’s having trouble co-existing with the little stupid creatures in her house, and you need to get them out asap.”

The man blinks. “Actually, since this is such a bad case, we’ll make you our top priority. The guys will be out here first thing in the morning. Do you have somewhere you can stay for a day or two?” He shrugs. “Typically, people are fine staying in the home while work is being done, but it would go faster if no one was around while we wait for the traps to catch.”

“She can stay with me.”

“Alright, perfect! Just swing by around nine in the morning tomorrow to let us in, and we’ll get to work.”

“Great, thanks,” Kai responds.

“Thank you,” she nods to him. 

The man smiles, then goes out on his merry way. 

Kai avoids eye contact with her for a moment, afraid he’s overstepped his boundary. He didn’t ask before one, compelling the man, or two, deciding she would stay with him overnight. She called him a friend, yes, but that didn’t mean she trusted him. 

However, she softens the moment the man leaves. She had a cold exterior up to match Kai’s confident compulsion, but it comes down once it’s just the two of them again. She sighs, then perches herself on the arm of her living room chair. 

“Thank you, Kai.”

He looks at her, finally, and smiles. 

“Are you sure you want me to stay with you?”

“You’re welcome to, if you’d like. I understand if you’d prefer the Salvatore house, though.”

“What are the other heretics like?” She knows, from Damon, that he lives with them. If he didn’t, he’d have nowhere to go. 

“They’re not all that bad. They’re quite like family, actually. If I tell them to leave you alone, they will.”

“Okay,” she smiles, “let me get a bag ready.”

Kai is surprised she agreed to his offer, but he’s more happy than anything else. He couldn’t bear to leave her in that house, even if she let him stay with her - which he would’ve asked, if she insisted on staying there - and knew he needed to get her out. He doesn’t bother to ask Lily, nor the rest of the heretics, before showing up with her. Nor does he inform Damon, or any of her friends of the situation. Y/N doesn’t tell any of them either; they don’t need to worry about her being with Kai. She trusts him. 

Since Kai had run to her, though, they have to walk back. He proposes retrieving a car to drive her, but she insists she doesn’t mind the walk. In the thirty minute stroll across the town, she gets to know him a lot better, and him, her. Both, of course, know what their friends say about the other, but for the first time, they get to hear truths from their own mouths. By the time they reach the old, abandoned house, small mutual crushes on both ends grow into something more. He’s always liked the quiet human; she’s always been curious about the dangerous siphon. 

When Kai strolls through the back door, Valerie is first to check out the sound. 

“Ah, you. Now where did you run off to? Oh! You’ve got a girl.”

“Hi, Valerie.”

“You’re lucky Lily hasn’t come around yet, or she’d surely scold you for leaving in such the hurry you did.”

“Val, who are you talking to?” The voice of Nora rings through the hallway. She stops when she sees Kai. “Oh!” The girl’s eyes light up at the sight of his companion. “Is this the girl for whom you were concerned?”

“Yeah, um, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Valerie and Nora.” He nods to Mary-Louise as she enters the room. “Mary-Louise. And this is Y/N.”

“Hi!” The blonde greets. 

“Can we please get into the actual house, guys? It’s cold outside, and she doesn’t need to be by the door anymore.” Kai sasses his newfound family. 

“Right, sorry,” Nora answers, waving the two down the hall. 

There’s a fireplace in the living room. That’s where the four heretics guide her, then nod for her to make herself at home. Kai introduces her to three others, Oscar, Malcomb, and Beau, and then retreats into the kitchen to make a warm drink. He shoots warning glances at all six, as if daring them to even look at his girl wrong. Nora rolls her eyes. 

“Thank you guys for letting me stay the night,” she says quietly. 

“Of course,” Mary-Louise fetches a blanket from the closet, then puts it around her shoulders. “A friend of his is a friend of ours. Even if he can be the most annoying little-”

“Mary!” Her girlfriend scolds.

“-thing sometimes.”

Nora comes to the girl’s side on the couch. “He isn’t that annoying. And we practically owe him our lives.”

“True.” Then she whispers, “but he’s still fun to tease at times.”

“Especially when he’s all bothered about a certain someone,” Valerie agrees. When the girl cocks her head in confusion, she laughs. “He was wondering about you all night. Worrying the wood with his pacing. Convinced something was wrong.”

“The minute Lily left, he shot across town,” Mary finishes. 

“He’s not going to like you telling his secrets, girls,” Nora warns. 

Her girlfriend chuckles. “Oh, what’s he to do? Kill us? He adores us.” She goes back to addressing her, “Kai is secretly a big softie, no matter what your friends might say. He cares for the people he likes. You included.”

The girl smiles. 

Kai then comes back and hands her a steaming mug. After one sip, she’s already feeling more cozy. 

“Thank you.”

“See?” Mary whispers. “Softie.”

A giggle escapes her lips. She avoids Kai’s gaze, who then asks, “what have you guys been saying about me?”

“Just that you’re real sweet on the people you like. It’s a compliment, Kai, accept it.”

The boy chuckles, but doesn’t respond to her comment. “When is Lily expected back?”

“Who knows with Lily?” Valerie rolls her eyes. “She’s been so unpredictable lately.”

“Patience,” Malcomb scolds. Everyone turns to him; no one knew he was still in the room. “She’s preparing us for the modern day. The least we can do is give her the time she needs to make us ready.”

“Kai knows the modern day,” Nora murmurs, “I don’t get why we don’t just take his advice and then go and explore it ourselves.”

“You know how Lily likes to do things. Have some respect.”

Before things can get heated between the heretics, Kai helps his girl to her feet to bring her upstairs. As he begins to leave, though, with her waving bye to the girls, Malcomb catches his attention. 

“Do tell Lily you’re keeping her here. Especially if she’s friends of her sons, you could get us all in a load of trouble.”

“Damon nor Stefan know I’m here,” she says, rather boldly, “I’m only staying for a couple days.”

“Still.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kai tells him. 

Once in his room, she starts nosing around his stuff. There isn’t a lot in there, but she likes being able to see a side to him not often seen. 

“Sorry about them, whatever they told you,” Kai says, sitting on the edge of his bed and untying his boots. 

“It’s okay. They were sweet.” She joins him on the bed, tinkering with something found on the nightstand. “You said they’re like family?”

Kai nods. “The heretics are all outcast Gemini siphons that Lily turned into vampires. Back in 1903, the coven locked them up. But when Bonnie trapped me in 1903, I started feeding them. We relied on each other for company, and eventually, found a way out. If you think about it, we are family just as much as we feel like we are.”

She smiles. “I’m happy you have them, Kai. I wish I was allowed to…” she words fade. 

Kai turns to her, head cocked. He hooks a finger on her chin and prompts her to finish the sentence. “Allowed to…?”

“Talk to you,” she whispers. “They wouldn’t let me talk to you. Kept me holed up most of the time you were around.” 

Kai remembers that. Y/N would be out with her friends, but the moment Kai would show up, they’d hurry her away, out of sight. Y/N would always argue about it, but they’d always win. She’d offer him a smile whenever she could sneak it. 

“I secretly, really wanted to talk to you. Of course, secret to you, not them. They were always afraid you’d find a way to hurt me, but I never thought you would.” She finally looks at him. “I think it made them nervous that I wasn’t afraid of you.” She pauses. “And then there was the wedding…”

Kai swallows. He never got to ask nor thank her about the wedding. Truth is, she’s the reason he’s alive. She begged Damon for his life, and the vampire, for some reason, listened. “About that… thank you.” She smiles, but then looks back down at the thing in her hands. “Why did you do it? Why did you save me?”

She shrugs, but Kai knows she has an answer deep down. 

“Y/N…”

“You never really got to do a lot of living before, y’know, everything. Bonnie never thought you were redeemable, but I trusted that if you were just given a chance, you could, I don’t know, adjust to a normal life. So I was researching ways to get you out of the prison world, and I was trying to find where she hid the ascendant, because I wanted to at least try, but then you got yourself out. And, I don’t know, maybe that was for the better; maybe it’s what you needed, because you have the heretics now, and since you’re a heretic, your dad is dead and you can live without the fear of him coming for you. So as scary as the idea of you being a heretic was to Damon, I begged him to just give you a chance. If it went wrong, they could blame me, but I didn’t think it would. I didn’t think you would.” She pushes buttons she doesn’t know on the device she’s holding. “And you haven’t. To Bonnie’s dismay, you’ve proven me right so far.”

“You tried to get me out of the prison world?”

“Well I didn’t get a chance to try, but I wanted to-”

Kai takes his pager out of her hands and kisses her suddenly. He rests a hand along her face, cupping it gently, but breaks it off seconds later. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Her cheeks are tainted red but she doesn’t look at him. “I’m glad you’re alive, Kai.”

“I am, too.”

“Are you happy as a heretic?”

He sighs. “I didn’t want to be a vampire, but it’s not bad. It feels nice to have a family that cares about me.” She nods, smiling. He then adds, “thank you, too, for caring about me.”

She meets his eyes. “Thank you for proving me right.”

For a moment, they’re silent. He holds his pager while she stares at the floor. Her lips tingle from his kiss, but she’s too shy to ask for more. Then, quickly, he hands the device back to her. “I didn’t mean to take this from you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t even know what it is. I shouldn’t’ve taken it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know what it is?”

“No.”

“It’s a pager.”

“...Oh.”

“Do you know how they work?”

“No.”

“Great, how old am I?”

She giggles. It’s a beautiful sound. “That’s okay… older men are better anyway,” she winks.

Kai chuckles. There’s her secret. Y/N is quite possibly the cutest, most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen, yet he’s never seen her with a guy. The couple times Damon’s mentioned her, or Kai’s asked about her, he’d never mentioned a boyfriend. Kai’s always wondered how she could possibly be single. “So… like how old are you talking? My age? Malcomb’s? Damon?”

“Oh god no. I mean, Damon’s hot, but I don’t want to date him. And I’ll pass on Malcomb, too. But you’re not so bad.”

“Oh?”

She shrugs. “It’s kind of a win-win. You look my age, but I know you’re not. But you’re also not, like, my great grandpa’s age.”

He laughs genuinely, amused by her. She looks a little shy by his reaction, causing him to scoot in closer on the bed. His eyes dart across her face, reading her eyes, resting on her lips.

“Thank you for helping me with my mouse problem,” she says suddenly, “and for letting me stay here.”

“‘Course. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a little crush on you, Y/N,” he admits. 

She grins. “You? Have a crush on me? Kai Parker, the big, scary heretic?”

“What, you didn’t think I’d run across town for just anyone now did you?”

“Guess not. But I like hearing you admit it.”

“For the record, I liked you even before you saved my life. I’d always ask about you, but Damon would always shut me down.”

She rolls her eyes, “of course he did.”

“But he’s not here right now.”

“No, he’s not.”

“So would you mind if I kissed you for real this time?”

“I hope you do.”

So he does. He closes the space between them quickly, yet kisses her softly. She captures his face in her hands; his find her back, lying her down on the bed. Kai separates her legs with his knee as he deepens the kiss. He can almost feel the waves of nervousness, yet also desire and arousal coming off her. He can taste it on her skin, soft and sweet beneath his lips. She touches his chest as he hovers over her. She’s seconds away from pulling off his coat and taking things further. 

“Kai-” Lily bursts through the door as soon as she reaches for his collar, “oh!”

Kai sits up and looks at the door, eyes wide. Y/N, embarrassed, covers her face entirely with her hands. “Hi.”

“Hello. Um, Mary-Louise and Nora said you brought a girl over. I, uh, see you have.”

“Just for a few days. Her house is being cleaned out because of a mouse problem and I didn’t want her in there.”

“And this would be the girl you always talk about?”

He gives her a look that Y/N reads identical to a, “why would you embarrass me like that,” type of look that a son would give his mother. Lily only stares back, expecting an answer.

“Yes,” Kai finally says. “This is Y/N.”

She peels her hands off her face at the mention of her name. “Hi.”

Lily smiles. “Hi, Y/N. Lovely to meet you. Malcomb says you’re a friend of Stefan and Damon?”

“Yes, but they don’t know I’m here. They don’t want me with Kai, but I want him, so they won’t know.”

Kai feels a warmth in his stomach at her words. She wants him. 

“And I assume you’re the girl that bartered for his life?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lily looks at her, then Kai. “Very well then. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She smiles. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. Lily is fine.”

“Okay.”

“And Kai… please remember we are all part vampires, and we all have super-hearing, so if that goes any further, we will all hear it.”

The girlish giggles of Nora and Mary-Louise come from behind Lily. Lily then turns and waves them away with frantic hand gestures. “Apologies,” she says. “See you down for dinner later.”

Kai turns back to his girl the moment Lily shuts the door. His expression has her throwing her hands back on her face as laughter erupts. Her whole body shakes from the position she’s in on his bed. Kai can only shake his head and laugh alongside her, until he finally utters out an, “oh, this is funny to you?!”

She nods her head quickly. Tears fall from her eyes, which he wipes away with his thumb. “I see what you mean, like family.” After a moment, she manages to compose herself. “It’s cute. It suits you, and you deserve a family that makes you feel like you’re family.”

He smiles, touched by her words. “Thank you.”

One more laugh escapes before she sits up on her elbows and looks at him. Her eyes have an endearing look that he adores. 

“Can you be the girlfriend I sneak past my sisters because they always have to make fun?”

“Oh, absolutely, I will be.”

“Good,” he chuckles. 

Another laugh is creeping up on her. Her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth is twitching. Before it can escape, Kai pushes her back on the bed and climbs over her body. He kisses her again, smiling into it, and finds himself the happiest he’s been in his life. 

[jackdaniel69nice]

Random tokoyami hcs to go with my shadow one :P

Agender/voidgender (nonbinary) any pronouns

Bisexual but really only for men and nonbinary people, he’s never met a woman he’s liked before but you never know

Might be somewhere on the acearo spectrum as well

Polyamorous

He’s not really a fan of labels tbh but I’m giving you my closest guess to his vibes

He likes bad boys, tall dark and handsome please, if they wear black and are irksome he’s probably at least a little interested (dark shadow hates this and scares them off XD)

He definitely wouldn’t date anyone unless dark shadow liked them as well because dark shadow would get too jealous

Follows strict schedules like when to eat and sleep

Has never actually had coffee before going to UA because he’s afraid caffeine is an “addictive substance”. He tried decaffe coffee now and decided it’s not as great as everyone said

He has had lots of herbal teas though

Everyone says he sleeps with a night light which is fine but it’s literally just the purple lights he always has on in his room (they are special lights that don’t hurt shadow)

He did used to have one that projected stars on the ceiling as a child though (dark shadow gave it to eri)

His parents make him sleep with the full lights on at home so he’s happy to be without them now

Autistic

Sensitive skin, doesn’t like being touched

Sensitive hearing, doesn’t like when people are being to noisy

Always talking to dark shadow in his head, has trouble focusing at times because they’re so chatty

Might talk to dark shadow out loud when he’s alone but he would get in trouble for that so he doesn’t do it often, the only one who has caught him doing it is Midoriya

Unspecified dissociative disorder and maladaptive daydreaming…it’s pretty bad actually

Acts VERY different when it’s just dark shadow and him, he’s much more relaxed and playful (he’s actually pretty funny)

Likes to dress up in fancy clothes but is to scared to wear them in public

He makes his own clothes sometimes but his aunt is a seamstress and likes to make him and shadow nice dresses and cloaks for holidays and their birthday so most of them are from her. Otherwise he thrifts everything

Also makes his own jewelry

Knows how to dance but won’t do it in front of others because that’s a private bird thing also trauma

Will not make “bird noises” unless he’s alone but he can do it. Occasionally can get a squawk spooked out of him

Has lots of knowledge on psychology and was actually going to be a psychologist/psychiatrist before switching to heroism (AND THANK THE GODS FOR THAT!)

Can give quite the verbal thrashing, he already knows all your insecurities and will wreck you. He never really does this unless the offender SERIOUSLY pissed him off and they need to be taught a lesson on manners. He would also win every argument in debate club if he ever joined

His musculature/training is more in line with calisthenics because he needs a strong core for dark shadow to carry him around all day. Also I think he should do parkour

Has lots of odd hobbies obviously (like bone foraging and sword swallowing)

[author-chan06]

Hello! Welcome to my Tumblr!

Personal:

Names: Ari, Jay, Roman, Blitzø, And Loki! You can use any or all of them.

Gender: Agenderboy

Sexuality: Biromantic Bisexual (Maybe??? Questioning This Rn Might Be On The Asexual Spectrum???)

Pronouns: They/He/It + Some Neos

Neopronouns That I Use:

Xe/Xem/Xyr/Xyrs/Xemself

Ae/Aer/Aer/Aers/Aerself

Ye/Yem/Yer/Yers/Yemself

Qu/Queer/Queer/Queers/Queerself

Voi/Void/Voids/Voids/Voidself

Vae/Vaer/Vaer/Vaers/Vaerself

Sym/Ser/Ser/Sers/Symself

Un/Un/Uns/Uns/ Unself

Nin/Nin/Nins/Nins/Ninself

Neb/Nebula/Nebus/Nebus/Nebulaself

Sti/Stim/Stims/Stims/Stimself

Pri/Prin/Princes/Princes/Princeself

Fandom Stance:

I am a proshipper, a comshipper, and a selfshipper. I do ship things that would be considered “problematic”, but I will not debate the ethics and morals of this on this blog. It’s just not really what I want to do, and it would cause me too much mental stress, as I’m not a big fan of being involved in debates. Any talk of this will be deleted. So anti’s do not interact.

So Tw’s for this blog:

Unhealthy Relationships

Toxic Relationships

Abusive Relationships

Manipulation

Underage/Adult Relationships

Incest

Sexual Assault

Rape

— And Just In General Some Dark Topics

If you don’t want to see any of that, that is totally fine. Just block and move on. If you’re leaving now, I wanna wish you a happy day and a fun time in whatever fandom you’re in! <3 <3

Fandoms And Ships:

I am in a lot of fandoms and I am a multishipper. So these will be the fandoms I’m in and a link to the post that shows my ships.

Batman

Sanders Sides

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Gravity Falls

Marvel

The Owl House

Hamilton

My Hero Academia

My Ships Post

My Otherlinks And Fictionkin:

Otherlinks:

Loki (MCU)

Blitzø (Helluva Boss)

All Of My S/I’s

Fictionkin:

Roman Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Selfshipping/My F/O’s:

Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Virgil Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Janus Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Patton Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Logan Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Blitzø & Stolas Ars Goetia (Helluva Boss)

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)

Tomura Shigaraki & Dabi & Himiko Toga & Keigo Takami (BNHA)

Mammon (Obey Me)

Fizzarolli & Asmodeus (Helluva Boss)

Vox & Val & Velvette (Hazbin Hotel)

Darkiplier & Wilford & Bim Trimmer & Actor & Yancy & Illinois & Engineer Mark

SCP-049 “The Plague Doctor” & SCP-682 “The Hard To Kill Reptile” & SCP-035 “The Possessive Mask”

Slenderman & Jeff The Killer & Jane The Killer & Ticci Toby & Laughing Jack & Eyeless Jack & Masky & Nina & Clockwork & Ben Drowned

The ones with 2 or more people in one bracket thing are Polyam relationships! And I have made separate posts for most of them, if any of these interest you enough that you want to learn more!

The rest are newer and so they don’t have posts yet, but they will soon!

I’m totally ok with other’s who are dating these guys too! And while our relationships may not be the same, I would love to hear you gush about them, as long as you don’t mind me doing the same right back at you about us ahah

Request Rules And Request Limits:

Disclaimer! Any of these rules and limits to my writing have nothing to do the morality of writing these things and I hold no hate or disgust for people who write these types of things, I just don’t want to write these things or I don’t feel comfortable writing it myself.

Here are my rules and anything you might need to know about my requests: My Requests

Are requests open right now?

Requests are closed!

Links:

My AO3

My Old Blog

My Kofi (Not Fully Set Up Yet)

My Personal Tags

Well I think that’s everything! If you want to gush or ask questions or give requests, go ahead! I hope you enjoy your time at my blog!

[niki-phoria]

hi ! could I request a comfort fic with Jake where 8th!member m!reader is feeling insecure and he comforts them while they’re shooting / on live? 🍨

he's so EKNLSNLSN i love brunette jake

pairing: jake x male!8th member!reader (no pronouns used) genre: comfort word count: 865

includes: supportive jake, implied insecure reader, didn't really have an idea for this so it's mainly small scenarios barely connected together, not really my best work tbh

a/n: thank you for requesting !! this idea is really cute, i hope you like it :))

requests open !! read my rules first

“y/n” jake’s sweet voice breaks you out of your trance. you nearly flinch a little at his sudden gentle touch on your shoulder. “are you okay?” 

jake’s eyebrows are slightly furrowed as he slips into the seat next to you. you debate telling him about all of the thoughts running through your head before you quickly refocus on the cameras in front of you. “i’m fine.” you can tell he doesn’t believe you when he reaches under the table to hold your hand. his skin feels smooth against your own as he strokes his thumb against the back of your knuckles. 

jake’s hand holding your own gives you a small solace from your own thoughts. despite being keenly aware of the cameras surrounding you, you allow your mind to drift again. 

this time you focus on jake. his hand squeezes yours the way that he did on your first date. you’d never forget it. 

jake had taken you to a carnival. despite your hesitance to get on any of the unsteady rides, he had insisted on you riding the faris wheel together. the view had been magical - nothing like you had ever seen before. lights illuminated the ground below you, bathing them in hues of pink and blue. 

in the midst of your excitement you had reached over to grab jake’s hand. electricity nearly ran through you from his touch, though as soon as you noticed what you had done you attempted to pull back. 

you only paused when jake squeezed your hand, holding you in place. he smiled brightly at you when you looked over. a small agreement passed between you: i’m willing to risk everything if you are.

you watch as the production crew changes a few settings on the cameras. thinking of jake provides a nice distraction from your swirling insecurities. so, as you wait for preparations to be finished, you continue to relive each experience with him.

it was just after a particularly rough practice. jake sat beside you against the wall as you panted, still trying to catch your breath. your chest ached as if your lungs were collapsing in on themselves. 

you reached over to grab jake’s hand as if his touch would be enough to magically re-energize you. in some ways, it was. he brought your intertwined hands up to press a quick kiss against the back of your hand. despite being affectionate many times before, the simple action was enough to fluster you. he had noticed, chuckling a little at how embarrassed you were. 

you playfully swatted at him as he profusely apologized through laughs. his sarcastic apologies were immediately accepted as soon as he reached over to place a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a sweet kiss - the first of many more to come.

if anyone has noticed you staring into space, they don’t say anything to you. you’re sure jake has swatted a concerned jungwon away by now. you’re grateful that he’s let you take the time to process things alone. 

your mind drifts again to your most recent relationship milestone: your first “i love you.” the memory was comforting as it replayed in your head.

it had been six months together. you were sitting in your shared room with jake as he pulled out a small black box he had been hiding in his bedside table. he handed it over with flushed cheeks, anxiously watching as you opened it to reveal a small ‘J’ charm on a thin gold chain. 

you had immediately jumped into his arms as you excitedly clung to him. he laughed as you pushed him down onto the bed and pressed little kisses all over his face. his blush only deepened when you finally said it: “i love you.” 

the rest of the day was spent in a mutual giddiness as you took turns exchanging little kisses and small declarations of that same phrase. “i love you.”

the rest of the day feels like a blur. jake’s hand only left your own when you arrived back at your dorm to take a quick shower. 

“baby,” jake smiles at you from his new position lying on your bed. “come here.” you happily accept his invitation when he opens his arms for you to crawl into. neither of you mind that your hair is still wet from the shower - staining jake’s shirt and wetting the skin of his neck. 

you let out a content sigh as jake rubs his hand against your back, letting you nuzzle closer to him. you lay together in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. “do you want to talk about it?” he whispers. 

“no,” you murmur. “just wanna cuddle with you.” 

“okay,” he whispers. “there’s a new episode of physical 100 we can watch.”

“i’d like that.” you snuggle even closer to him as jake reaches over to grab the remote to turn the tv on. his hand never stops rubbing against your back. even as your eyes slowly become heavier. even as your breathing begins to even out. especially not when you finally fall into a comfortable sleep against his chest.

[garden-of-bah]

🌼Garden-of-BAH intro🌼

Hello lovelies, welcome to the garden!

Requests are: OPEN!

This is a plant-themed build-a-headmate blog currently run by members of one system. We take requests for fictives, factives, songtives (usually), userboxes, and moodboards! We can attempt brainmade alters if we have something to go off of but we’re iffy on them. Radqueer, transID, para and endo friendly, there will be no discourse in our garden. /srs

Inspired by other BAH blogs, especially @sewers-headmates @cutecorebah and @slimeyblossoms :D

Under the cut contains our template, boundaries, tag system, and links to our intros, to-do list and source list :3

Tag system:

sprout ; 🌱 (headmate request)

bloom ; 🌸 (pre-made headmate)

lavender ; 🪻(moodboard)

maple ; 🍁 (userboxes)

fern ; 🌿 (mod specials)

rose ; 🌹 (mod post/important info)

hibiscus ; 🌺 (mod intro)

sunflower ; 🌻 (question/answer)

tulip ; 🌷 (other asks)

clover ; 🍀 (other posts)

mod rammy💐 (posted by Rammy)

mod catra🔥 (posted by Catra)

mod dee🌒 (posted by Dee)

mod kel🏀 (posted by Kel)

mod ashley💞 (posted by Ashley)

mod leyley💗 (posted by Leyley)

Boundaries:

Do not spam request. Asking once if something is in the inbox is fine, but we are VERY busy irl and cannot guarantee when requests will be filled.

Anon emoji tags are encouraged :3 (Taken tags: -🪐⚡️, -🦉🌙, -🎒💌)

Requests in DMs are fine

When we say no discourse we mean NO discourse. Any asks or comments debating the validity of someone’s existence are NOT welcome here, regardless of what it entails. This is a safe space.

We CAN make moodboards, we can NOT make stimboards. Our phone doesn’t have the capacity to upload that many GIFs, sorry. This may change in the future, but as it stands stimboard requests will be denied.

Source list:

To do list:

Request info:

Here’s the template we’ll be using for headmate requests, you can fill parts out yourself or just ask something along the lines of “can I get a South Park alter with a lot of paras?” or “could you make a fem fairy alter with roles and a bunch of transIDs!”

If you want specific faceclaims, feel free to send a photo! Be as specific as you’d like to be in general, we love direction :3

If no specification is given on the type of request, we will assume it’s a headmate pack.

Name/s:

Age:

Pronouns:

Source:

Genders:

Sexuality:

CisIDs:

Mental/physical conditions:

Other labels:

Faceclaim:

“Detailed” requests will include any/all of the following, as we see fit and/or as requested

Alter roles:

Front triggers:

Signoffs:

TransIDs:

Paras:

Personality:

Quirks:

Moodboard requests can be vague (“can I get a Zim moodboard”) moderate (“could you make a bisexual Dipper Pines moodboard?”) or specific (“would you do a bisexual lesbian Amity Blight moodboard with themes of space and loneliness?”)

We prefer moderate requests because they leave some room for interpretation, but we’ll try to work with whatever you give us!

Userbox requests can be accompanied by specific images, but it’s not necessary. The only thing we require is colour direction if it’s not a character we’re familiar with, but feel free to request fonts or brushes/effects for the border! We use IBIS paint X, so keep that in mind, but we’ll fulfill requests as best we can!!

Mod intros:

[sc11vb]

Intro Post!

Hi! You can call me sc11vb, or Colette

I’m a tired student in the US and I’m 14

I use she/her pronouns

I’ve had tumblr for about a year

Things I post about

ACOTAR, mostly Elriel

- I don’t support Elucien or Gwynriel, but people who do are welcome to interact with my blog, as long as they are polite and respectful of my opinions. I have nothing against Elucien and Gwynriel shippers themselves, and nothing against the characters. I’m always up for a debate, but please don’t attack my character. Death threats are a no as well.

- I support Feysand, the IC, Lucien, and most other ships and characters. I have not much opinion on Nessian vs Neris, but I tend to lean more towards Nessian. I feel the same about Gwyn. To me, she’s little more than a side character. I’m anti Tamlin, shipping Elain with toxic characters, and the ships I listed above

The Umbrella Academy, mostly Fivela

- I understand a lot of people don’t ship this, and it’s fine with me. Just please reread the section above if you have questions

Myself

Only sometimes. I know that this is not the way my blog started off, but oh well

Other various fandoms and ships

My fics

I’m a writer, of both fanfiction and my original work (that I don’t post much about, but if people are interested, I might)

My Ao3

Comments and kudos make my day, so if you have time to leave some, much appreciation!

Interactions

I love making friends, so please don’t hesitate to talk to me, privately or not!

Asks are ALWAYS WELCOME (unless they’re hate asks. A lot of popular Elriel blogs have been receiving them as of late, and though I’d love to be considered popular, I REALLY don’t want to have to deal with that)

Requests for fanfics/head cannons for any fandom I’m in (ACOTAR, TUA, Shatter Me, One of us is Lying, Lunar Chronicles, TFOTA, and many more. If you want a fic/hc and you don’t know if I’m in it - ask! It’s much more likely that I know the fandom or I’m willing to read/watch it than not)

Tag games: SEND THEM! I have so much fun participating in them!

To conclude …

Thank you all for being here for me! I’m loving this experience and am not planning to leave it any time soon. I would love to get to know all of you!

[mysticalsoot]

This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it?

A/N: this was meant as my gift to my valentine for Grey's Valentine's Exchange but since it has been cancelled I decided to quickly finish it up and dedicate it to not only grey because they need it with how rough the exchange ended up being but also my new found friend on here! I'm really proud of this and Im very surprised at how much I wrote in such little time (5k is a lot okay lol) I hope you all enjoy it and happy early Valentine's! (I'm still gonna post a special Valentine's blurb!)

Pronouns: they/them, uses of y/n

Pairings: Cc!Wilbur x Reader

Summary: Wilbur and Reader have known each other since their early teens, and despite having painfully obvious feelings for the other, they ignore them in the sake of saving their friendship. James concocts an outing for the two and maybe it goes according to plan?

Warnings: swearing, angst but with a ton of fluff at the end! also there is a kiss but not detailed bc I in fact have never been kissed so I'm going off gut feeling lmao. also mentions of alcohol and drinking (I've also never drunk alcohol so I don't know much about that either so another guessing game there too).

Words: 5.3k

Dedicated to: @grey-rambles @loverboy-soot

masterlist

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James had invited Wilbur, Ash, Tommy, Rue, and you over to his place to hang out. It was mostly Mario Kart and James fucking screaming the Wario sound, but it was fun. There was food and a few rounds of uno with Ash, Tommy, and Rue, but despite all the festivities, Wilbur hadn't joined in any of them. He sat in the farthest corner from you and the rest of the group, the corner of James' loveseat didn't seem very comfortable anyhow. But there he sat, hands folded and rested between his thighs, his eyes darted from the group to the wall, to the TV, and back to his lap. He seemed so dazed like he wasn't fully there in the moment like he was somewhere else.

The absence of his laugh and his smile...and his voice, concerned you. It wasn't like him to isolate himself like this, it was one thing to stop answering messages and hiding in his flat but straight out isolating himself at a social gathering was nothing like him. You wanted to find him in his corner, bring him away from the others and ask him what was wrong, what you did every time he found himself anxious and shutting down. But every time you tried someone would pull you away, ask questions or bring you into banter. Staring at him, contemplating doing something wasn't helpful so maybe engulfing yourself in the festivities around you would help. It was selfish, yes, but there wasn't much you could do. The chances of him brushing it off and saying he was fine and completely ignoring the subject at hand were much more probable than him stepping aside and delving into his anxieties with you. So you pushed it aside and focused on whatever shit James and Tommy were debating about at this point.

“James,” Tommy pauses for emphasis, his hands folded in front of his face and eyes closed, “You are one deaf fucking bastard.”

“I’m hearing you! I’m just saying your point is invalid and ill-informed!” James counters, despite the possible hostility of their bickering, it's known by everyone that it's just light-hearted poking and prodding at each other, nothing substantial to be worried about.

Something you could slip away from easily…

“Says the man who is convinced that the creeper is the elite hostile mob in Minecraft?? It blows shit up and is extremely difficult to kill at the start of the game! The true elite mob is the zombie, they are slow and easy to hit.” Tommy then stands up and his face plastered with a smug smile. He knows he's right even if the topic at hand is trivial and childish at best.

"You're an asshole, Thomas Simons. I'm right, you're wrong." James is quick to poke at him, and you catch a small, soft smile forming on Wilbur's features. He's gazing at the chaos in front of you, no longer on his jeans or the spots on the wall. It's on the people now. His friends.

The thought brings a glimpse of hope to you, maybe it's just a fluke and he's okay. Nothing to worry about, he's not being self-destructive right now. It's okay.

It wouldn't hurt to get him to join the conversation, would it? "What do you think, Wil? Who's the most elite hostile mob?" You pose the question with a smile on your face, eyes locked on his, gauging how he was feeling by the way his eyes went wide and his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. Anxious, noted, not anything new and revolutionary but something to note when speaking to him.

"Um, Skeletons I guess?" His answer is unsure and it's probably because he wasn't really listening in the first place, just observing his friends having fun and bickering, doing anything he can to keep his mind off the anxiety dwelling in his head.

“Skeletons? That is the most basic bitch answer! Also, it’s invalid because they can shoot you from sixteen blocks away!” Tommy counters his answer and he gets riled up again, rushing to pull up some sort of resource list as if this was a school assignment.

Wilbur’s face drops again, but his eyes are still trained on the group as they begin bickering again. Rur and Ash decided to chime in this time, both with their own very opinionated thoughts on the matter. It began to get tenser, despite the laughs and smiles, the abrupt yells were enough to push anyone already on edge even further.

It was best to get him out of there, even if it was for a moment. So you stood from your spot at the sofa to walk over to where Wilbur placed himself. Pushed into the corner of the loveseat farthest from the group. Now that you're closer, you notice how straight he's sat, his whole body is tense and his face is flushed.

You put your hand out to him, an offering, “Come on, Wil,” It’s muttered as a mere whisper, but he hears it. His head tilts up to look at you, eyes still wide and overflowing with unease.

“Okay,” He whispers, taking your hand in his and standing up from his own spot. His shoulders slouch, making him seem slightly shorter --- he still towers over you, but it makes him seem vulnerable and small.

You tighten your grip on his hand, in a comforting way and lead him out of the living room, through the hall, and into the dark kitchen. No one seems to notice the absence of either of you, they're too busy arguing over a block game to think about much else. He lets your hand go after the door is closed and he goes to sit on the floor in the corner of the room against the kitchen cabinets. Wil pulls his knees up to meet his chin and he wraps his arms around his legs.

“Are you okay?” You slide down the cabinet to sit next to him, your hand resting on his knee drawing circles with your thumb.

“Mmm, ‘m fine.” He mumbles, his head between his knees and his face hidden.

“As your best friend, I do not believe that.” You try to lighten the mood, be playful in hopes he’ll at least crack a smile.

“I’m fine.” He lifts his head and looks to you, despite how hard he tries it's not convincing.

“Yeah, yeah, and the queen’s alive. Come on, Wil.” You laugh, moving to card through the curls atop his head.

"I'm okay." He tries to fake a smile to rid your concerns but it's not that easy anymore.

"You don't have to tell me, but you can admit when you're not okay, love." The pet name was merely a slip for you and when you noticed you used it, you wanted to crawl into yourself. Hideaway and forget everything you said. Surely to others, it's not a big deal but it's not like you can give any hint at your feelings for him, feelings you know aren't reciprocated.

He simply hums in response with his head back between his knees, and you take your hand away from his hair and drop it on your lap. You want to help him, make him feel better but this is making you feel so hopeless. You can't let him wallow but he's stubborn, it's not easy to get through his shell.

"Wanna tell me about the French Revolution?" The question was merely a suggestion, a bribe to get him to speak in more than two words per sentence.

And it worked, his head lifted up almost immediately and his eyes were wide with excitement, "Really? Are you sure?" His voice is soft but you can practically hear the joy in the way he spoke.

"Of course, tell me all about it." As you mutter the last bit, you lean your head against the cabinet and gaze up at him. His smile is wide and he's now let his knees fall to where his legs are stretched out in front of him. Stupid lanky bastard.

"Okay so, the revolution of 1789 had maaany different causes, primarily economical and political," And so he went on for what felt like hours, but you enjoyed the chatter. You liked seeing him so giddy and happy over something he loved like this. He's an absolute history buff and most people don't care to sit still long enough to listen, except for his brother, you, and sometimes Ash. So you let him talk your ear off, you asked questions, and let him tell you all the little details and factoids he's learned over the years.

After a while, your eyes began to droop and feel heavy, and you kept having to pull your head back up to keep yourself awake. So you settled with resting your head on Wilbur's shoulder as he continued telling you about one of the many corrupt French kings. You wrapped your left arm around his middle and your right hand rested on the shoulder you laid on. You were comfortable and he didn't seem to mind the contact.

"Sleepy?" He breaks his info dump and runs his hands through your hair. You were far too drowsy to think twice about the action or to get nervous about it as usual, so you just hummed and nuzzled further into him.

"Keep talking." Your words were muffled by his sweater but he understood, and so he did just that. He continued on about the revolution and everything that came after before he himself began to doze off. His head leaned against yours and before he knew it, he was passed out too.

----

"Hey, has anyone seen Wilbur?" James chimed in, the Lion King plays on the TV, and everyone groans, and Tommy pauses the movie.

"Dude, it was the best part!" Tommy exclaims and dramatically throws his head onto the back of the couch.

"Sorry! Wil just disappeared, so I was just wondering if anyone saw him." James reiterates, hands in the air in surrender before dropping them to the floor on either side of himself.

"I'm sure the guy's fine, he's probably somewhere with his best friend anyways," Rue reassures James, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Those two are inseparable," Ash adds.

"And they are so obvious too! It's annoying." Tommy grunts in that typical little sibling way.

James frowns, clearly not satisfied with how calm and not worried his friends are. Ash notices and pats his friend on the back, and James' shoulders slump.

"Dude if you're so worried about them, go find them." Rue leans against the back of the couch, crossing her ankles and resting them on the coffee table. James growls and shoves her feet off the table, Rue then rolls her eyes. "So mean.."

“Fine, I will.” James groans and lifts himself off the floor where he sat and he as well makes his way out of the living room. He heads through the hall, peaking into the dining room; nothing. He checks the guest bed next, also nothing; and then his office, still nothing. He checks every room before he settles on checking the kitchen- the last spot he expected to look. The moment he peaks his head through the door he catches a glimpse of both you and Wilbur cuddled against each other, sound asleep.

“Aww, cute,” Rue whispers behind James and he jumps, yelling a slew of curses at his friend. She simply laughs in response. James looks back to be sure the interaction didn't wake the two of you, and surely it didn't. He would have never been so thankful for how heavy of sleepers you two were.

James backs away from the door, being sure to close it as slowly and quietly as possible, and then he ushers Rue down the hall and back to the sitting room where the rest of their friends were. He then happily plops down onto his sofa, right next to Tommy.

“So, are they okay?” Ash’s expression is one of concern, but calm still.

“Oh they're fine,” James takes a swig of the drink he left on the coffee table, “But we have some matchmaking to do.”

----

“We’re meeting at the pub around the corner, that's right, James?” The entire situation is confusing and getting a confirmation out of James is the worst hell that you desperately want to crawl out of.

"Yes, yes, that pub. I told you like ten times already." James sighs in a loud obnoxious way and if it weren't for the fact you loved him, he would be dead on sight. Or on sight when you both got to the damn pub.

"It's not my fault you give shitty instructions and clarification!" You do your best to whisper yell through the phone, he may annoy the fuck out of you but you don't hate him, and if he lost his hearing because of you—you couldn't mess with him.

"Oh my god, stop whining and get your ass over here." You're about to snap back at him and then he hangs up just as quickly as the words roll off his tongue.

You groan and drag your feet on the sidewalk, desperate to make your trek longer so you can postpone seeing James a little more. I mean, you love him but fuck can he be an annoying little shit sometimes. He's really good at it too and you don't know how he manages it.

Unfortunately, you're in front of the pub way quicker than you thought you would be. You're quick to open the door, and rush in before you push through the crowd to find any inkling of where your friends have situated themselves. James didn't mention which table the rest of their friends sat at, so you assumed he didn't know either seeing as he was on his way here as well.

You're about to give up when you spot a familiar Pinterest hipster across the pub. Wilbur is sat alone at a booth, holding what seems to be a simple water as he himself eyes the tables and bar as well as the sea of people standing around the place.

You smile and wave your hand at him, signaling that you're there. He smiles too, waving back and then gesturing for you to sit with him. You're quick to shuffle through the people surrounding you, muttering excuse me and I'm sorry's whenever you bump into someone or get just a hair too close to them. By the time you reach the booth, you're out of breath from swimming through the crowd. You plop down on the spot next to Wil and you rest your head face first on the table.

"Why is James so annoying?" You pose the question, all muffled and not really meant to be answered, simply spoken into the void.

"Hell if I know, he told me the rest of the group was here but I couldn't find them." Wilbur speaks in such a nonchalant way that you would think he did this often, wait for his friends to be there and either be late or not come at all. But you know he doesn't do this often, I mean it was more common in middle school and high school, but now he's an adult and you know his current friends wouldn't do that. I mean you're his best friend after all, you notice way more about him than you would care to notice.

"So you think they've ditched us?" You move your head to face him, eyes looking up to him and his own looking down at you. You swear you could see a smile forming on his lips.

"Hah, maybe." He laughs and then switches to gaze at his hands resting in his lap.

You lift your head up, and lean against the back of the booth. You rest a hand on his shoulder and he looks to you, "You're my favorite anyway." You pat his shoulder before removing your hand only for it to find great interest in the sleeves of the jacket you wore out today. One of Wilbur's old jackets his arms were too long for. It's oversized but it's comfortable and a hundred percent smells like him, so it's comforting.

"Ash isn't even your favorite?" He's smirking now and you can tell he's almost completely forgotten about James and the clan.

"He's a close second." You throw a soft smile to him and you can feel your cheeks warm and turn red.

———

"Wow, France is fucking shitty." You let out a soft laugh, taking a sip of whatever alcoholic beverage was the special—you didn't care, it tasted good and didn't burn horribly so it did just fine for you.

"I know!" Wilbur slurs and then laughs, throwing his head back to lean against the back of the booth. He turns to face you, smile wide and face pink from being a bit too tipsy.

"You're smart, Wil. You know that?" You rest your chin in your hand and look in his eyes. You never really noticed how rich and…deep they were. It was endearing to look at.

"Not really, I just know a lot." He shrugs, gaze dropping and face draining from positivity.

"Isn't that the definition of smart?" You reach your hand out to rest against his arm. He doesn't move or flinch. It's like your touch is second nature.

There's a silence, he doesn't say anything, you don't say anything. Your friends still aren't here and it's been an hour and a few drinks in—you're beginning to wonder what James' intentions were.

"They ditched us didn't they?" You lean your own head against the backboard.

"Oh they sure as hell did." Wilbur lets out a soft chuckle and the sight makes your heart flutter.

"Wanna go back to mine?" The question is simple and you play with the idea of looking away from him, to dull the sting if he says no—or rejects you without even admitting anything to him—but you decide to turn your head and gaze upwards at him.

A soft smile, a breathy laugh, he turns his head to face you, "Of course,"

It takes a good twenty minutes to get back to your flat, which is only a ten minute walk from the pub James tricked the two of you to go into, but with both of your slighter drunken states, it was safe to say it took a lot longer. Stumbling, giggling, slurred speech, a hand on the small of your back, your arm around his torso. There was no such thing as a ten minute walk on your minds.

The walk down the cobble path to the door of your flat is a tricky one. Wilbur only had a few shots but he hadn't been drinking in a while so his ability to handle much alcohol was severely lacking at the moment—so he was stumbling a lot. He nearly fell in the bush a few times but you were able to keep your grip on him, keeping him steady. You yourself weren't in the best of shape either, but you managed. Surprisingly neither of you had felt the least bit nauseous yet, which was a tremendous thing.

You struggled a few moments with your keys before Wilbur got off the wall where he leaned and said, "Here, lemme try." He was quick to find the right key and turn it in the keyhole. The door clicked and Wilbur turned the door knob and pushed it open. He stepped aside and bowed, his right arm over his stomach and his left out stretched in a gentlemanly manner. "Royalty first, as always." You smile and are sure your laugh is heard by the man.

"Why, thank you kind sir!" You exclaim, folding your hands like a queen in a ball gown and dramatically walk in the door. He laughs and follows you in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You lead him to the living room just to the left in the corridor and curl up on the couch and shove your shoes off your feet. Wilbur follows and does the same, his head next to yours and his legs curled up next to him.

"Hi," He whispers to you, smiling softly and gaze set up on you.

"Hi," you pause, readjusting your legs to be held against your chest. "I'll take the couch, you take the bed, that cool?" Your eyelids begin to feel heavy and so you rest them, unable to spot the reaction Wilbur gave you.

"No, not cool." He states plainly, your eyes shoot open. Did you upset him? What did you say wrong? Your mind runs wild and he seems to notice your anxiety bubbling. Your slightly tipsy self, not doing a great job at hiding it. "I take the couch, you take the bed."

"No, you take the bed, I take the couch."

"Darling," He warns and the pet name shocks you both, and it seems as though the alcohol has an effect on both of your filters, his and yours.

"I said what I said and I stand by it!" You cross your arms over your chest and playfully move to look away from him.

He groans in an artificial annoyance and you smile to yourself.

"How about this," He begins and you turn back to face him, he's sat up now, legs pulled up to his chest still. "We both take the bed? That way we both win."

"Mmm, as long as you're okay with it, I am."

Wilbur smiles and nods, "It was my brilliant idea, now wasn't it?" A smirk forms.

"Goddamn, you and your stupid ego." You roll your eyes and Wilbur huffs.

"Oh shut it." He snaps back, going to stand and walk out the door and across the hall to the bedroom. You follow him and quickly go to the cupboard on the left beside the door. Your bed is prepared to warm one person, not two, so you need extra blankets and maybe another pillow or two.

"Dude, when's the last time we shared a bed?" You break the silence, chuckling to yourself as you hear Wilbur shuffle around the bathroom—presumably to find his old toothbrush he left at your place that one time he stayed for a week six months ago.

"Like the last time I stumbled to your door drunk as fuck?" He sighs before exclaiming an Aha presumably because he found the toothbrush he was looking for.

"You really need to stop drinking that much, especially alone. I'm not always gonna be here to be a pick me up for your sorry ass." You throw the blankets you pulled out onto the bed and jumped in face first. "So comfy." It's meant as a whisper, but Wilbur manages to pick it up.

"Save some blankets for me, meanie." He turns on the faucet and he's then silent for a moment before the sound of brushing sounds from the bathroom.

"No, they're mine. I bought them with my money, dickwad." You grunt and turn over, wrapping yourself in a little blanket cacoon.

Wilbur lets out a laugh, and the faucet sounds again before the tapping of the toothbrush on the side of the sink. Before you know it, the other side of the bed dips and you feel a blanket being snatched from you. You don't have the energy to fight it, so you let it go.

"Wow, my best friend being generous to me? What world do we live in.." He mutters, laughing more to himself than anything.

"Too tired to care."

"Not because you love me? Oh my heart!" He dramatically clutches his heart and lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Only because tired." Your words become more slurred and they're muffled by the pillow you have your face in.

"Yeah, yeah." He sighs, and then tosses around a few times, getting comfortable. The bed creaks with his every move and you can hear him groan in annoyance at the sound.

The creaking stops, and Wilbur stops moving. He's situated now, but he's on his back staring at the ceiling.

Many thoughts run through his mind but one in particular stands out; Should I tell them?

The concept is foreign, expressing undiscussed emotion that could be detrimental information if provided at the wrong time—it's scary. What is he meant to do? Lye around and pretend he didn't get nervous at your touch, or your pet names or the way you willingly am letting him sleep next to you—and while the latter wasn't unusual in the past, it was now, given the two of you being in your early 20s and having been avoiding sleepovers since you turned 18. Although there was only so much you could do when Wilbur came stumbling to your door pissed out of his mind.

He bit the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? A Lot actually.

But he figured he should give context first, background.

"Do you know why I was sulking that day at James'?" He breaks the comforting silence that fell between you two. He doesn't mind it but he figured he must act now before he chickens out.

"I figured you were just having a bad day, and once I offered a France info dump you seemed pretty okay. Was there something I missed?" You turn your head back to face him, eyebrows knitted in genuine—sober—concern.

"I was upset," He pauses, beginning to place the pieces in his mind of what to say next and then after that and then after that and so on. "It's kind of stupid, I guess-"

You cut him off, "Nothing, and I mean nothing you say is stupid, Wil. I promise." You're sitting up now, crisscrossing applesauce on the bed, your body facing him but your eyes trained on his own eyes. "What was wrong?"

He closes his eyes, "I guess, I was getting sort of fed up with myself. See, I really really like this person—" He pauses to sit up himself, he gazes down at you as he leans his back against the wall. He reaches for your hand and draws circles on your palm with his thumb, his eyes painfully focused on the lines drawn in your skin. "They're wonderful, and one of my closest friends. I've liked them for a long while, love them even but a part of me knows they don't reciprocate my feelings—so I was feeling sorry for myself. It had been years and no moves had been made and so I felt hopeless. That person was so happy that day, and I was pissed I wasn't the reason for their smile." He sighs, letting go over your hand and leaning against the headboard, eyes closed shut.

Your voice is but a whisper, "Who is this mystery person?"

He hesitates for a moment, but he's this far already, there isn't any going back.

"You." The answer is simple, straightforward and blunt but it hits you hard nonetheless. Handfuls of emotion are thrown at you like confetti and you can't even begin to sift through and identify them all. You're in shock, that's for sure, but everything else? There's no telling.

You smack his shoulder, "William! You should have said sooner, you asshole!" Your tone is playful but your words would say otherwise. Elated.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He rubs the side of his arm, wincing for a split second before meeting your eyes.

"Not telling me." Frustration.

Silence, no more words slip from either of your tongues. It's simply quiet, the humming of the fan you set up hours ago, sirens sounding outside in the city —your breathing, his breathing. Fear.

"I like you too, you know." You look down, despite him already confessing to you, admitting this is still terrifying, and odd to you.

"Oh, I know." He smiles, and you mentally smack yourself for saying something you know would get some stupid snarky comment.

"You and your damn ego, Soot." You shake your head, smiling fondly at him.

"Oh but don't you love my ego, my dear?" The man is still tipsy.

"Hey, why don't you shut up?" He smirks, and you immediately regret your words, well, partially — he reaches his hand up to rest on your cheek, and he brings your face closer to his, lips millimeters apart and breath fanning on each other's faces.

"Can I?" It's a simple request but you nod, smiling whilst your heart warms. He leans in closer, your own lips meeting his in a soft loving exchange.

You smile into the kiss, giggling a few times throughout. You rest your hands on the back of his neck and his own hands fall to rest on your sides.

It's not as dramatic as you imagined, figuring if he felt the same he would have some grand confession —but you like this, you really do. It's calm, private—it's tremendously better than a heated confession in the rain, at least in your opinion.

You both break apart, smiles wide as ever and you're out of breath. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and your head hitting his chest, settling into him. It takes him a moment to reciprocate but when he does, his own arms snake around you, pulling you closer to him.

Wilbur's head dips down to rest on top of yours and you hum happily. This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it? Warm arms around you, the sound of his beating heart—he starts to hum, what sounds like one of his songs.

The night goes on like this, the two of you wrapped around each other, Wilbur humming songs he knows or wrote and the occasional comment on how long it took you two, followed by laughter.

This was joy, he was joy.

The next day, you awoke to your phone buzzing like no tomorrow. You were groggy and really didn't want to even bother looking, but the sound managed to send you into a slight panic. Your legs were still wrapped with Wilbur's, and his head was resting on your chest and his stupidly long arms were pulling you into him. You looked over at the end table on your left and snuck your phone into your grip.

You groaned as you pressed answer on the incoming call that created your woken state. It was James.

"What do you want, James? It's 2am." Your tone is that of a very annoyed person, and James winces over the call.

"I hadn't heard from you and Wilbur's not answering his phone or his door, so I figured you two ran off and died." His words all jumbled together and you laugh much to his distaste, "Be serious here!"

"We should've run off, honestly. Maybe we would have gotten some peace and quiet then." You set your gaze down at the man with his arms around you, and you smiles sweetly.

"You're a dick—are you two okay? Do I need to send like a police force or something?" James is still frantic with how he speaks but you can tell he's calming down by the second.

"We're fine James, okay? We're at my place. We drank a little last night and my apartment was the closest." You pause, but before he can get a word in, "Thank you for setting us up." There's a smirk on your face and James can hear it in the way you spoke.

"What—I, I didn't set you up!" He's quick to his defense and you laugh.

"Yeah, no you definitely did."

"Did it work?" He asks, ditching the defensive attitude from the moment prior.

"Yeah, yeah it did. Thank you." You lean your head back, phone still pressed to your ear and your free hand carding through Wilbur's mop of curls.

"Good."

[breakerofhalos]

On it/its Pronouns, Gender, and Becoming

This is mostly for the cishets, but it may be helpful to someone out there, so I’m sharing it anyway.

I've been getting some questions about my pronouns, so I thought I'd give a small explainer for MY reasons for using the pronouns "it/its". To clarify: these are MY reasons for using those pronouns. Trans people have a variety of reasons for choosing the pronouns they choose and can, and often do, shift, add, or discontinue the use of certain pronouns along the course of their lives as their understanding of their own genders changes.

Here's the shortest, most key point of the explanation. I use "it/its" because it gives me gender euphoria. It *feels* right when people use them to refer to me. That's completely subjective and that's fine, gender and pronouns don't have to have any deeper reasoning behind them besides making you feel seen and affirming your self-perception.

Now, being who I am, I've put a lot more thought into this. You don't have to follow any of the other arguments here, they're pretty specialized concepts that have been the source of debate and discussion in the trans community. Trans people in general think much more deeply about gender as a concept, their gender, gendered language, and what is signified by gender than cis people. That is only natural given the amount of thought that has to go in to deciding to defy the normative system of gender assignment.

So to repeat, if this sounds overly academic, arcane, or like hair-splitting to you, that's expected and normal. All you need to know is that using a given set of pronouns is what someone likes, and then you use those pronouns. It can be that simple. If you'd like to know more, read on, and I'll try to keep this coherent.

First layer: Slur reclamation

For a trans person to adopt "it/its" pronouns is to reclaim a subtle slur that has been levied at trans people for a good while. By choosing that, one takes away the power of the bigot in a small way. Not every trans person agrees about this, so it's one of the bigger stumbling blocks for allies. Don't use it/its unless someone asks, but if they do, this is often part of it. It is for me.

Second layer: Neopronouns

"It/its" are considered to be part of what are known as "neopronouns", newer pronouns being used to represent a variety of experiences with gender, including gender non-conformity. Singular "they/them" is NOT a neopronoun, having been in use for centuries, including in Shakespeare. Examples of neopronouns include: xe/xem/xer, ze/zer/zem, fae/faer, and ey,em. No one knows if any of these will gain widespread traction, come to represent gender archetypes that are distinct third or more genders, or what. It's still very new, and forecasting things like that is impossible. Again, as in all things pronouns, if someone asks, respect that.

Third Layer: Xenogenders

Ok, so this is where things start getting more philosophical and theoretical. Beyond slur reclamation, and beyond trying out neopronouns as a way to denote a non-binary gender in general, there's xenogenders.

This one is really not on mainstream radar at all basically, and in trans community it's controversial. The basic idea is that a xenogender person identifies with something *other* than human as a gender. It's a really broad umbrella. Now, this is where a lot of people get lost because they're familiar with a certain set of societally accepted genders (yes, non-binary has varying levels of acceptance, but it's in the general social schema now).

Here's the thing, people have been arguing about *what* gender *is* for literal millennia. The ancient Greeks argued about it, Ancient Egyptians have Hatshepsut, the Sumerians had a trans priestesshood of Inanna, Scythians had early HRT and transition. There's a lot of ideas and nuance and discussion across philosophy (trying to come up with a coherent, universally applicable approach and definition) and anthropology (how have humans experienced gender and lived it through time?), but NOT medicine. Medicine and science are not able to discuss gender because first, they're dealing with questions of observable biological phenomena and gender is on the level of an abstract concept. Sex is biology, gender is society. Second, biologically observing sex is vastly complicated on its own.

Anyway, there's a few major theories of gender that I have a basic knowledge of:

The Gonadal Model: this is what people who say that gender is "what you have in your pants" follow. It's a pretty bad model. First, unless you're extremely close with someone, you have no idea what's in their pants. You generally assume that based on other characteristics about their appearance and behavior. Second, gonadal expression is unreliable, even if you attempt to verify it. Intersex people exist, in greater quantities than redheads. Some have genitalia that does not fit into a "standard" model. Some do, but don't have those secondary, outwardly visible characteristics that one would "expect". And some appear to fit into a "standard" category while having invisible chromosomal abnormalities that they, their doctors, and other people might never know about. Seriously. A person can have XY chromosomes and develop a female biological expression and never realize that their chromosomes are otherwise. Almost no one ever actually tests their chromosomes.

Performativity Theory: this is the idea that gender is the mix between what one person "performs" as their gender and what others around them categorize them as. Which gendered signals does a person send? Do they have long hair, makeup, are shorter, and have a specific vocal pitch? That is read as woman. Tall, hairy, deeper vocal pitch, and aggressive? That gets read as a man. Passing trans women would then *be* women. Butch women might be read as masculine to the point of being called men in some situations. Feminine gay men might read as more feminine than masculine, or be accepted as "one of the girls". The idea here being that society should be more open to accepting trans people as the gender they claim because there's an attempt to fit into those roles and signals. Basically "You are what you signal, regardless of the skill at signaling." It's more expansive, but has limits.

Self ID Model: a person is what they say they are. This is the only model that includes all cis people in the gender they claim, and does not exclude any cis people. Conveniently, it also includes all trans people. Now, this opens up to the classic "slippery slope" of trans identity: "If people are what they say they are, what if someone says that they're an animal/alien/attack helicopter? This says they are, when they clearly aren't!" Yes. Yes it does. Unsubscribe to the idea of gender as an emergent self-schema, and gender as play. Gender is what a person understands themselves to be, and that emerges over the course of their life as they experience, learn, and experiment. It's the best way I have found to talk about how I, and others describe experiencing things.

I grew up without knowledge of trans-ness, and therefore couldn't understand myself as trans. I always felt uncomfortable, or inadequate in fitting into masculinity. Once I understood more, I put names to feelings, and developed the conceptual vocabulary to understand myself. My gender emerged. It continues to emerge. Even cis people change their relationship with the social standards of their gender and what it means to them over their lives. It might not end up as far from start as trans journeys is all.

So, finally getting down to trying to put my gender into words. I do not identify as fully *human*. I've experienced an alienation from society and humanity as whole for most of my life. I want to be seen as *femme*, or having feminine traits and presentation. To be "female shaped". I also want to transgress expectations, being bald and not wearing a wig is one aspect of this. I see myself as succubian, a gender identity describing wanting to embody feminine seductiveness and sexuality, to the point of hyperromanticism or hypersexuality. Many succubians come to this as a result of sexual trauma, but it's not required. I also want to be see as a witch. In the old, scary, but also capable and caring for those considered part of the community. It's not easy to explain fully, it's easier to express in fiction and metaphor. This is my attempt to get there with the *shortest* amount of explanation and theory lol. I think it is a grounded perspective, based in gender theory, logic, and lived experience. People can disagree, just be polite about it.

Fourth Layer: Not A Person

Not A Person is a term in use among some of the trans community, it is VERY niche within a niche. Again, this means different things depending on who is saying it, and _when_ they say it. What I mean is very much informed by this essay: https://voidgoddess.org/emptyspaces/notaperson/

The basic idea is that as a society, we do not think of ourselves as hurting people. We care about people. We're dealing with problems, like immigration, houselessness, mental health, and "LGBT Grooming". This lets us abstract away the harm to people by removing their status as a Person. So fuck it, I'm not going to try to gain the conditional respect that is clearly inconsistent and used to split society into People, and Unpeople. I'll take that Unpeople label and wear it with pride, expressing solidarity with all the other wretched and oppressed. I never liked society's constraints anyway.

It's a conscious rejection of social approval in favor of radical empathy and individual expression. I'm Not a Person, I'm so much more.

Obviously this is controversial, and not any kind of prescriptive rule for living, but it's a reminder of where I stand, and with who. Right now, I could put my old clothes on, and aside from already having made changes to my ID, pass as a white cishet man. I could easily boymode and use that perception to access social privilege. Every day, I wake up, and choose to express who I am, even if it makes the world a much more dangerous place. I accept that danger, and my otherness, and wear it as armor. I use it/its pronouns as part of that, and as a way to make people uncomfortable in order to give them cause to examine that discomfort and do a little bit more thinking than they otherwise planned on that day. Hopefully it helps them grow.

[guess-that-ship]

Guess That Ship Tournament Season 12: Submissions CLOSED!

The Concept: You describe your ship* to me, I pick out the submissions which I find most compelling and pit them against each other without revealing who they are, people vote on them, and their identities gets revealed once they’re eliminated.

Submission Guidelines

*For the purpose of this tournament, relationships do not have to be romantic in nature. (I’m sometimes going to use “ship” as a shorthand, just know I mean “relationships” in general.)

Relationship can be between any number of characters.

Real people are accepted if they’ve been dead for more than 100 years.

Roleplay characters are accepted as long as the description only pertains to the characters and not the players.

Crossover ships are only allowed if the crossover is official.

OCs are accepted. (However, OC x Canon is not accepted. Please do not submit other people's OCs without their permission.)

No overtly NSFW submissions. (Mentioning they have sex or are a sex worker is fine, but try to avoid anything more than that.)

Two submission per person. (Do not submit the same ship twice. I cannot enforce this on Google Forms without forcing you to log in. So just be champs and respect this rule.)

Failure to follow these guidelines may result in all of your submissions being disqualified for this season.

Summary Guidelines

Selection Process: I will read through the list of descriptions submitted without reading their names and pick the most compelling submissions. Then, I will check the name to make sure there's no repeats.

Keep it concise, but also bring something unique to the table. Make sure to describe their relationship, not just summarize the events of the story.

Previous submissions for reference. The ideal submission should be 2-3 paragraphs, but you can make it as short or long as you want. Please keep in mind the longer your submission, the less likely it is to get in.

Tips on what to avoid while writing a summary can be found here.

Descriptions should be based on canon, not headcanon. (e.g. You can say “they love each other” instead of “they’re lovers” if their romantic nature is debatable.)

Avoid author commentary. (e.g. "They're canonically x," "I love them," "Play/watch/read this," etc.)

Use canonical pronouns.

Avoid identifying information or setting specific giveaways. (i.e. Ninja village, space necromancers.)

When submitting OCs, please make sure to at least put a name somewhere. (e.g. "John and Bob by anonymous" or "OCs by Joey.")

The more popular your ship is the more vague the description should be.

Exclusions

Ships that were accepted in Season 7 onwards and ships that at least reached the semifinals in Season 1-6 are not allowed. For a complete list, please look here. (No need to look through the whole list, just Ctrl+F to find the ship you want.)

Any submissions from Harry Potter will also not be included.

Notes

I will not vet the ships/pairings for problematic content.

If you participate in this tournament, know that you run the risk of unintentionally voting for your nOTP. The mod does not take any responsibility for any distress that may cause you.

There will be a limit of one ship per media in the bracket. You may submit two ships from the same media, but keep in mind only one ship will be able to get in. (A series or franchise will generally count as one media, but they will be evaluated on a case by case basis.)

Submit your ships here! Submissions will be open until Monday, August 5th at 10 PM EDT.

Please reblog this post to spread the word! The more submissions, the better!

[viivenn]

If that was your intention, you should've blocked her @. Because I saw a bunch of people harassing her on twitter for no reason ever since she showed up, and she never said anything untrue. Even the info she shared about Giles is public info, you can read online anywhere and everyone is free to like and dislike people. Her feelings about Giles is clearly not a problem for Gwendoline. Everything you said about sharing old nude stuf is real, writing dirty fanfics about her is disgusting, but if you wanted to use that girl's tweet as an example, you should've blocked her @ specially because she never did any of those things you mentioned. I know you want to be correct on this, but you have to be fair and just. There was tons of other examples way more serious you could've used, and far be it from me to defend Beca, I don't know her. But I follow her and I at least know what she stands for and she'll definitely be by your side on all of this.

please stop taking my post out of context. this was not a call out post. i used a post as an example and included the username, i was not being disrespectful by using an example.

there’s a difference between wanting to be just and right, and it’s that i know my intent is just and i know i’m right. if you think these sort of things are okay, then perhaps it’s you who is wrong and unjust. i was not purposely aiming to be disrespectful and start arguments with people over a post that highlighted my concerns and discomforts about this fandom, i wanted to discuss this in a peaceful context because that’s what everyone deserves is a conversation and not a heated debate. bur if you really want to go down that route. of colourful words exchanged, then fine, allow me to be the bad guy for a moment.

i don’t believe your friend is friends with gwendoline and i certainly don’t believe gwendoline is REMOTELY okay with what is said about her husband out of clear jealousy and ridicule.

i didn’t block the person because when i took that screenshot it was back in… i want to say… november? i’m unsure. i had to retrieve the screenshot from my story, which i will include now;

i can go back in my story archives and retrieve the date if it’s absolutely necessary but considering you clearly can’t read enough to take something as simple as a post example out of context, i believe it would be unnecessary.

i so happened to have that screenshot because it was on my twitter feed the day i opened the app and i thought it was wrong so i threw it up on my story because it was plain disrespectful and wrong and stupid of beca to post.

now if that’s everything, this is the last time i will be responding to anything regarding beca and her/their damned post (idk their pronouns , i apologise). it was used as an example. stop being pissy.

[daily-cookie-masterson]

The Argument - A YDKJ x Vs. Void Crossover Fanfiction

Notes: I’ve been thinking about how A.C. Void and Cookie would be friends… And so, I decided to write a fanfiction of them arguing about something stupid. I need a break from drawing but I still need to update this silly little account, so here we are!

This is simply a funny fanfiction I wrote out of boredom, so don’t take it too seriously please!! Thank you and hopefully you enjoy this fic :]

Tags: You Don’t Know Jack, Vs. Void, AC Void, Cookie Masterson, Crossover Fic, Cookie and Void are friends (i guess), Cookie uses Any/All pronouns, This fic is not meant to be taken seriously, Arguing, The ‘Is a Hot Dog a Sandwich?’ Debate, Author Has Some Regrets, Cursing

It was a normal day in Chicago.

It was a slow day at You Don’t Know Jack Studios, so everybody was pretty much relaxing and enjoying themselves. The host of You Don’t Know Jack, Cookie, was simply scrolling through his phone in his office, while his friend Void (If you could even call him that…) was sitting next to him, thinking deeply about something.

It was… Surprisingly peaceful. The two weren’t really talking to each other at the moment, just doing their own thing. In fact, the only audible sound was the air conditioner going off in Cookie’s office.

Well, that was until Void finally decided to break the silence.

“Y’know what, Cookie? I think I can finally say this without questioning it,” Void said in a confident tone.

Cookie didn’t stop scrolling through her phone, but she did look at Void when he spoke.

“Hmm? What are you talking about?” Cookie questioned.

“I’m just gonna hurry up and say it—I think that a hotdog should qualify as a sandwich.”

Cookie’s head immediately shot up at this comment, making them face Void directly.

“W-What??” Cookie sputtered.

He couldn’t process what Void just said. It was illogical! It was insane! It was unbelievably stupid! Cookie began to feel that his head started hurting trying to even remotely understand why Void said that.

“I said what I said. A hotdog should qualify as a sandwich.” Void continued.

“No, you see— A hotdog is a fucking hotdog. Not a sandwich, Void.” Cookie rebutted in a condescending tone.

“Okay, but by definition, isn’t a sandwich a food that has two slices of bread and ingredients in between?”

“Well, yeah but—”

“See that? You just agreed with me. A hot dog is a sandwich, is it not?”

“No, before you interrupted me, I was going to say that sandwiches have multiple components in them. A hotdog has only the fucking hotdog—”

“Don’t hotdogs have toppings on them sometimes?” Void questioned Cookie.

Cookie had to pause for a second before replying.

“W-Where are you going with this—“

“Hotdogs have toppings on them. Ketchup, mustard, relish, cheese, chili… So on, so forth. And guess what? Sandwiches have toppings, too,” Void smugly stated to Cookie.

Cookie was practically flabbergasted.

Did someone just actually prove Cookie wrong? It was totally absurd. Cookie was always right. Well, at least that's what she thinks.

It wasn’t normal for Cookie to be proved wrong… It was so confusing that it almost physically hurt her. Well, that was until she thought of something…

“B-But, aren’t sandwiches supposed to be vertical??” Cookie desperately countered.

Void just gave Cookie a doubting look as a response. But after doing that, Void then started to think about it for a second.

“Okay… But, with that logic, subs aren’t sandwiches either, aren’t they?” Void smugly stated to Cookie. “I bet you would hate having to admit that, wouldn’t you?”

Cookie just sighed heavily at Void’s smugness.

“Y’know what— Fine. I’ll admit it— Not all sandwiches are vertical. I guess… But, I will say this— Have you ever even seen a sandwich store sell hot dogs before, Void?” Cookie confidently stated.

“Now that I think about it, no, I haven’t—”

“So hot dogs aren’t sandwiches!” Cookie insisted.

Void just scoffed at Cookie’s desperate attempts at proving him wrong.

“No Cookie, sandwich stores don’t refuse to sell hot dogs because hot dogs aren’t sandwiches— Sandwich stores refuse to sell hot dogs because they’re just a bunch of cowards.”

Cookie just looked at Void with a look of pure annoyance. They then pinched their eyebrows together out of frustration.

“Goddamnit, Void… Okay, how about this— A sandwich has two pieces of bread. A hotdog has a bun. One. Singular. Bun.” Cookie exhaustedly countered. “And by the way— I don’t wanna hear you say ‘With that logic, a burger isn’t a sandwich’ because a burger has two pieces of bread.”

Void’s eyes widened out of surprise. He then turned around away from Cookie to try and hide his very visible anger. His ego had just been terribly damaged and needed time to recover.

“Stupid freaking gameshow host… Thinking that he’s better than me…” Void angrily muttered under his breath.

Cookie was actually surprised to see Void like this. Usually, Void would just brush things off when someone hurt his feelings, but seeing Void getting frustrated over a petty argument was… interesting to say the least.

“What’s the matter, Void? Can’t handle being wrong, can you?” Cookie snarked.

“Shut up.” Void suddenly fumed. “A hot dog is still a sandwich, by the way.”

Cookie just chuckled at Void’s ridiculous comment. “Yeah yeah, sure it is…”