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springseasonie · 1 year ago

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First | HRJ (M)

Best friend Renjun x fem reader

Summary: you and Renjun are both inexperienced, so to combat that, he ask you to be his first kiss. But that one kiss reawakens a whole life of suppressed tension the two of you had for each other that just so happens to explode.

Warnings: sexual content, lots of kissing, masturbation, dry humping, horny virgins, fluff

Word count: 4,2k

A/N: took two request and decided to mash them together. I don't know how to write kissing scenes tbh I've never been kissed so that's not in my area of expertise (nothing I write is) hope y'all enjoy!!!

Could you be my first kiss?”

You blinked, no words could be said or thought after his sudden request. Renjun, your best friend since elementary school all through this moment, just asked you to kiss him.

“What,” you said, a soft confused laugh falling from your lips to lighten the mood. Part of you really wished he was joking because you hadn't even had your first kiss. “You're joking… right?"

Renjun stares and shakes his head. “I'm serious.”

“But why” you questioned. He gulped, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I..I don't know,” he answered, lips in a slight pout while looking away from you.

A moment of silence passed through the air, nothing but your breathing and the fan cooling the warm summer air. The initial shock of his words wore off with some time, but he was clearly embarrassed. He's been debating for days to actually say anything to you about this, too afraid that it would ruin something between the both of you. But you laughed.

Your small giggle felt like a cold drink on a hot day, providing him comfort and relief in the current situation.

“Sure. I'll be your first kiss.”

Renjun watched you with wide eyes, legs crossed as you turned your body to him, scooting closer. You're his best friend, the one person he's felt comfortable with for most of his life, so why is he starting to feel so nervous all of a sudden? Why are his palms getting sweaty?

“H-have you had your first kiss,” he asked.

No.

“Yes,” you lie. Renjun glances at you. You can tell he's unsure about your answer, knowing that you tend to lie about subjects like this.

“Don't lie,” he says, frowning. “I'm being vulnerable with you so just be honest with me.”

“Fine. I haven't.” You look at him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips. Renjun has always been cute, that's what he was known for. Cute, youthful, pretty boy looks, but now you're looking at him a bit differently.

“So this is a first for us both,” he laughs softly. You and Renjun slip into a comfortable silence as you adjust yourself. Sitting on your side in front of him, you didn't really realize how close you were, but he did. He could feel your soft breathing, smell your perfume, see every pore on your face.

“So..what now,” he says. You don't say anything, just shrug and pout, but he can't stand the silence with you being so close to him. His mind was only on your lips, but now he can't stop his eyes from wandering everywhere else. Your neck, your arms, your legs. His eyes wander to your chest going lower and lower until-

“Your face is red,” you say softly, adding salt to his wound of embarrassment. “What are you thinking about?”

“I-Im not thinking of anything,” he stammered.

“Really? Because all I can think about is that first time we met on the playground in school,” you admit, eliciting a strange look from the boy in front of you.

“At a time like this?”

You nod, a smile tugging on your lips. “Yeah. You were so cute and chubby.”

“You guys used to call me marshmallow,” he recounted rolling his eyes.

You laughed, licking your lips as you watched his face get even more red. “Yeah. Remember middle school when we had that trip to the water park.”

He nodded, giving you a small smile. “We went on the biggest water slide together and got in trouble for not meeting the teacher on time.”

“Yeah…it was embarrassing getting yelled at like that.” Your voice was soft, almost as soft as the way you took his hand at the moment he started playing with his fingers. This moment felt so intimate, the tension in the air getting thicker and thicker by the second. You could feel it, and so could he.

“Did you know people thought we were dating?”

Renjun chuckles, nodding as he looks down at your hands. “Yeah. I kind of wanted to.”

Your brows shoot up, a breathy laugh escaping your lips. “Really?”

“We were 13 and you started looking pretty at that age.”

His confession made your heart skip a beat. If your younger self would've heard this, she probably would've freaked out. Dating Renjun who was like a brother to you? Absolutely not. But now that you're older, it's plausible, doable, realistic.

“What about in highschool,” you ask, looking at him curiously.

“I thought you were pretty in highschool too, but you know I had a girlfriend at the time,” he said, making you sigh.

“Right I remember, she was your first girlfriend. I never liked her,” you confessed, making him laugh.

“I know you didn't. It was obvious.” Renjun sighs at the memories of his first girlfriend. He really liked her, but he was naive and didn't realize that she only wanted one thing from him that he couldn't give. Renjun didn't have the courage to kiss or have sex with her, which led to them breaking up months later. He was bummed about it, with you to help him carry his burden. But now that he's 21, instead of trying to find the right moment, he decided to make one with you.

“Why did you decide today was the day you wanted to kiss me,” you ask, completely changing the topic.

This question immediately pulled him back into reality instead of the deepest pits of his mind. Your fingers were soft on his, playing with his fingers. But he soon felt your playfulness begin to falter when you held his hand in yours.

“Reasons,” he answered.

“You like me that much?”

“Ew, of course not.” The both of you laughed at his response, once again falling into a comfortable silence.

The tension, anticipation, heat coming from the both of you. At this point it felt like a waiting game to see who was going to make the first move. A game you were too impatient for despite never actually kissing someone before. But something told you to just do it, so you did in the best way possible. You kissed him, your hand still on his. And he kissed you back.

It was small, short, sweet, and innocent. The feeling of your lip gloss remained on his lips giving him a sudden wash of comfort. Your eyes flutter open to see him already staring at you, lids heavy as he watches your face.

“That's was nice-”

“You're so pretty Y/N-”

Silence filled the space, allowing you to take in his words. A smile spread on your lips, doe eyes looking at him through your lashes. “You think I'm pretty,” you say, a small giggle behind your words.

It feels like a light burst in his heart when he hears you giggle. He always thought you were pretty, who wouldn't? You would never know, but growing up, everyone fawned over you.

He nods, tongue gliding over his lips. “I always thought you were pretty.”

And with that sentence, the nerves set in. An innocent kiss was one thing but the energy was beginning to shift and you didn't know what to do with it.

“Did the…did the kiss feel okay,” you ask, now looking away from him entirely, palms sweaty in his as you watched your lap.

Renjun didn't say anything verbally, but if you could read his mind, you'd know what he would say. He could probably kiss you forever, taking in the soft feeling of your lips, your soft voice, nice hands.

“Can I kiss you again,” he asks, staring at your mouth.

With a full you nodded, turning your head to him. In one swift movement, his lips were on yours. He attached himself to you so naturally, it almost shocked you. While you were too busy trying to figure out where to put your hands, he already had his mind made up, placing his hand on your thigh.

“I-Im sorry I don't know where to put my hands,” you say, awkwardly breaking this kiss.

The tension in the room multiplies. He could hear your heartbeat out of your chest and you could hear his shaky breath. That's when it dawned on you that this was real. All too real. You were about to make out with your best friend.

“It's okay, you can just-”

“No, I'm okay.” You scooted away from him, his hand still on your leg as you moved. You didn't want to look at him, knowing that if you saw him, his cheeks would be the prettiest shade of pink, lips glossy, pupils dilated. “Is it okay if we just… stop for today?”

Renjun wasn't surprised or taken back, moreso relieved you asked him to stop. If you hadn't, he would've had a bigger issue than just wanting to kiss you. But Renjun wouldn't let you do that to him - do anything to him for that matter. Not even if you wanted to, if it felt good to have your hands on his body, or feel your weight on top of him.

“It's fine,” he said abruptly, trying to make you feel less awkward. “Thank you… for being my first kiss.”

“I should be saying the same thing,” you joke, avoiding eye contact. But something in you wants more. You don't know what it is, if you want to kiss him or maybe more. You couldn't possibly want more, he's your best friend, he's like a brother to you - was like a brother to you. But something about the quiet of the room, the way his hand rests on your bare skin, how flushed his face is right now. The more you look at him, the more you feel the need to squirm where you sit. His eyes are droopy, staring at your lips as you begin to bite them.

There's a small voice in the back of your head saying do it, it's okay, but you can't cross that line. You wouldn't even know what to do and neither would he.

“I uh,” you start, gulping at the tension. “I think I'm gonna go home now.”

His brows shot to his forehead, relief and disappointment washing over him. “Oh yeah, sure. I can drop you off if you wa-”

“No, it's okay. I'll just walk. It's still bright out, I don't mind,” you interrupt.

“Oh.” You could sense the disappointment in his voice but you have to pull away from him as much as possible for the rest of the night. You stood up, gathering yourself in the most normal way you could at the moment, trying not to cringe at how much your panties stuck to your core.

“We can meet up tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sure, your place this time,” he says quietly.

“Okay. Have a good night Junnie.”

You left his room and then his apartment, door shutting loudly as you walked out. Your body was no longer there, but your presence lingered, the smell of your perfume lingered. And unfortunately, your presence helped create the tent that's in his pants at the moment. He couldn't believe it, but the truth is that you made him hard. His first kiss with you made him hard like a teenage boy.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, body heating up at the thought of you doing more to him that just kissing.

He just needed to release some of that pressure, just get rid of it for the night. Renjun reached his hand down his pants grabbing his cock through his boxers. He couldn't even be bothered to undress, just wanting to clear his head. But with every stroke, the foggier his brain got, images of your lips pretty and glossy before you kissed him flashing through his head.

You're so sweet. You've always been sweet to him. So selfless and caring, you even let him have your first kiss. You could've given it to someone you actually liked but you decided to give it to him. And the thought of that makes him stroke his cock faster, small whines and grunts falling from his lips. He can't say this is his first time touching himself to the thought of you.

He moved his hand faster and faster, just you clouding his thoughts. His body became too hot, hand speeding up. Renjun has never been one to cum too fast from masturbating, but you make him crazy, you make him sensitive.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my God..” He came hard in his hands, cum coating his fingers as his soft moans filled the room. But even after cumming to clear his mind, he can't stop thinking about you. Maybe the next day will help him get some more things off his chest, and maybe you can help.

Your stomach did flips when Renjun walked into your room, memories of the night before flickering through your mind. The way he looked at you, his lips on yours, hands on your thighs. God, it was all too much. Once you got home you had to take a cold shower, attempting to take your best friend off your mind.

The water hitting your body only took your thoughts off him for a moment, soon to be replaced by the possibility of his hands sliding between your legs later the next day. And now he's in your bedroom once again looking cute as ever. Hair freshly washed, skin glowing, and he smells amazing. It's almost like he is begging for you to pounce on him.

You say on your bed, watching him walk over to you. His eyes never left your body, the energy from his movements telling you all you needed to know about his intentions, but instead of acting on it, he simply sat next to you.

“How was your night,” you ask, avoiding looking at your best friend.

“It was okay,” he answered, fidgeting with his hands.

“You know, I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly yesterday,” you say, now facing him. Renjun turns to you, lips wet and pupils dilated.

“You don't need to apologize. I was getting…ahead of myself,” he admitted.

“No you were okay-”

“Okay,” he questioned, chuckling softly. “Damn, I know I never kissed anyone but you didn't have to put it that way.”

A warm laugh left your throat, eyes closing as you threw your head back laughing at his sense of humor. That's one thing you always loved about him, he always knew how to make a joke out of a nerve wracking situation. Your laugh relieved tension for your case, but only added tension for him. Your pretty neck showcases for him made the man dizzy. This is the worst part of being a virgin for sure, anything makes him excited.

“Junnie, that's not what I meant,” you giggled. “I didn't leave because of you, I left because of me. I got nervous. It was starting to feel really…”

“Intimate,” he finished.

There it is, that tingle in your stomach.

“Can I be honest with you Y/N?”

You nod, not realizing how heavy you're breathing.

“I know I'm your best friend, and this isn't something I'm supposed to say,” he started. Renjun couldn't control himself anymore, not with you in your shorts and his T-shirt. “I really want to kiss you.”

That's all you needed to hear because you wanted it too. But you needed to hear it again and then you wanted him to take you and do it.

“Kiss me?”

“Don't pretend you don't want me to.”

Before you could even respond, he moves closer to you, hands on your waist like a magnet. Renjun’s heart was beating out of his chest. He's never been this forward with a girl like this in his life, but something about you does something to him. Your expression of shock but also desperation was eating him alive, he needed you badly.

Renjun kisses you like he did the night before, soft and gentle, pressing his delicate fingers into your waist. Plump lips moving on yours like he'd done this a million times, so comfortable with you in his grasp and you love it too. This time you know where to put your hands. Your hands make their way to his chest, slightly tugging at his white shirt. Eyes closed, feeling every inch of his body that's on yours but you see sparks.

You never knew someone could feel this good with just kissing, but it's good to you. The way his lips mold with yours is perfect, coupled with his ragged breathing and the way his tongue licks your bottom lip softly.

“Junnie,” you whisper breathlessly, brows knit. “I uh…”

“Shh..” Renjun, swallows your words whole, kissing you what he thinks is deeper. You go with it, because it feels right, just like anything else with him. “Fuck,” he mumbles on your lips.

“W-what's wrong?”

“I've never been this hard in my life.” Renjun chases your strawberry flavored lip gloss lips once you pull away to look at his painful hard on. He can see you're thinking about something, contemplating on it. But he can't wait for you to make up your mind. His hands leave your waist, flying to your chest as he kisses you more, groping you carefully.

A gasp leaves your lips, the feeling of being touched like this being completely foreign to you, but natural to him. Shaky breaths fall from your plump lips as the male in front of your kisses your face, smudging your own gloss on your cheeks. You gulp, the feeling of his hands squeezing the life out of you making you want more. You need more. You need a release.

“Lay down Junnie,” you say softly, catching him by surprise.

Renjun lays down watching you stand up in front of him. His eyes almost pop out of his head watching you get rid of your shirt. You rest your hands on the waist of your shorts, eyes lingering on the man in front of you.

“I realize what I'm about to do might be stupid but I know you want it to,” you say.

His eyes go even wider. “A-already? We just kissed yesterday. I don't think we're ready to-”

“Relax, I'm not having sex with you. Trust me I'm not ready either, but..” you pause, pulling your shorts down to reveal pink lace panties. “I just want to make you feel good.”

He watched you climb on top of him, heart about to just out his chest when the entire weight of your ass was on his cock. This is the prettiest you've ever been. Renjun follows your hands as they make their way to his chest, tugging his shirt up to reveal his toned body. There's something so sensual about the way you're looking down at him, like you've been dreaming of this.

You lean down, kissing him as your hips roll down on his, his clothes cock making your senses tingle. But before you could move again, he stopped you.

“Wait,” he says. Renjun lifts his hips, tugging his sweats down just enough that you could feel his hard cock directly on your pussy. You rest your body on his once again, the only thing on your mind being getting yourself off at this point.

Renjun marveled at the way you move your body on him with no hesitation. It seemed like all the tension was gone and you knew exactly what you were doing. The way you felt on top of him was indescribable. He's never experienced anything like this in his life and never thought he would be with you.

You grinded on him slowly, taking in the feeling of the fabric on your clit. Nothing but the sound of pants and heavy breathing filled the room. Renjun feels like he died and went to heaven being able to see you like this.

“How does it feel,” you asked, brows furrowed in pleasure.

In all actuality, it feels like it came right out of a porno. You're grinding on him in your pretty panties and his shirt half way up in your girly bedroom. The only thing that's keeping either of you from fucking is anxiety and the sheer fabric covering yourselves.

“Good,” he says. “Fuck, have you done this before?”

“Only on my pillows.”

Every time you spoke, it gave him whiplash. Renjun swears he knows everything about you, but the second he places his hands on your hips he becomes enlightened. Unintentionally, Renjun guides your hips on top of him, your soaking wet panties making his boxers damp. You're so wet you don't even realize how much of a mess you're making on top of him.

You're like a wet dream, a hazy expression while you gaze down at him who's not taking his eyes off of you, makes him want you more. So badly he wants to take your bra off, eyes flickering from your face to your chest every 2 seconds. You know what he wants, but for some reason, you're enjoying the pitiful look on his face. The way his brows scrunch, the way he holds onto you for life.

“Renjun,” you moaned softly. You grinded on him harder, desperately trying to give your clit more stimulation on the girth of his cock.

The man beneath you pants loudly, Every time your hands move on his chest, a shiver runs down his body wanting more of your touch. He's rock hard, every movement you make sending him closer and closer to the edge, but he doesn't want to cum so early, not wanting this moment to end.

“fuck you feel so good,” he groans, hands on your hips guiding your movements. “Y/N, I don't think I can last long if you keep moving like that.”

You kept grinding, whining and whimpers falling out your lips along with him. You didn't care if he came before you, it just felt so good.

“Like this?”

Renjun's brows furrow, mouth open when you circle your hips on him. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum Y/N,” he moans.

“Me too Junnie.”

You move faster, the need to release is taking over your body. You felt Renjun's cock pulsing between your legs, clit rubbing so good against the fabric of your panties. The tight feeling in your abdomen becomes tighter the faster you grinded. Just before you feel yourself becoming undone, Renjun begins to tremble underneath you.

“Fuck Y/N,” he moans. Renjun came hard, his boxers becoming even more damp with his cum. Overstimulated, his strong hands that gripped you before began to loosen, shaking on your hips.

“Junnie, I-Im cumming,” you gasp, whimpering softly on top of him. Legs shaking, hands holding his shirt for life, eyes screwed shut. This view of you is everything he possibly imagined while jerking off, but maybe 100 times better.

Heavy breaths filled the room, your neat blanket now disheveled underneath you both. Renjun looked up at you, admiring how pretty you look even after you lose yourself. Pretty lips, pretty neck, even your sweat smells pretty. But a quick glance to where you bodies meet soon pulls out his own thoughts, realizing what he just did.

“Fuck,” he huffed out. “That was, uh..”

“Good,” you finished.

Renjun nodded, gulping at your direct response. His body stiffened, feeling you run your fingers down his chest unintentionally, face turning even more red than before. He was feeling so confident before, but now he feels like he can shrivel into a corner. You lift your hips from his, both of your fluids making your clothes stick to each other. The cold air instantly hits your wet panties, making you shiver and cringe.

Renjun sits up, leaning on his shoulders to see the damage you two had done. “Damn,” he mumbled. “I definitely need to change.”

“Me too,” you agreed. You laugh softly, looking over to the boy whose face was redder than a tomato. “That got a little out of hand didn't it?”

“Yeah, but it wasn't enough.”

You whipped your head to him, immediately clocking his implication. “Renjun, you're crazy,” you gushed, covering your face in your hands. “We can't have sex right now.”

“I know,” he chuckled softly. “Whenever we're ready, it'll happen.”

“Who said it was gonna be with you,” you joke. Instead of him following along, he just looks at you with a mix of desire and warmth that makes your tummy tingle. Renjun doesn't respond to your statements and just keeps staring at you like he's waiting for something that won't happen, you break the short silence. “I'm gonna get cleaned up.”

He doesn't say anything, just watches you stand up quickly, grabbing whatever clothes you see first. You think he's entirely checked out with the rest of the day, but all he can think about is how perfect you are and how badly he can't wait to be your first.

“I'll be back in 10,” you say, making your way to your bathroom.

“Don't have too much fun without me” he calls out.

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

And now he knows that you're definitely his first love and he couldn't want it any other way.

#nct #nct fanfic #nct u #nct smut #nct oneshot #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct dream #Renjun #renjun fanfic #renjun smut #renjun imagines #renjun oneshots #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic

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nymph-ette111 · 11 months ago

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hiiiiiii!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) could you do a simon cof x sweet, feminine reader headcannons? made my own headcannons to share with you because ily and i love this prompt(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

♡ i imagine reader and simon would go out, hes wearing the same crusty ass grey hoodie while shes dressed up all cute and pretty >.<

♡ he reeks of nicotine while she smells like neapolitan marshmallows<3 hes obsessed with her scent. he literally loves using her bodycare/haircare products over his 3 in 1 men shampoo (if he even showers that is) because he'd smell more like her.

♡ she shares absolutely everything of her purchases. she'd do little mini hauls to Simon, showcasing her new pink ballerina flats, sugarbunnies plushie she had to fight a war for in mercari, too faced chocolate bar palette, cute japanese stationary, and a lot of new clothes. Simon loves it. he loves seeing her happy. (may even buy her things he thinks she would love if he didn't have a smoking addiction<3)

♡ she doesnt only share that though she also loves talking his ears off about anything and everything<3 at first he was annoyed with her constant talking but when he spoke of it, she stopped talking so much and he got guilty and missed her overtalking. he tried to bring her spark back in talking and it worked

♡ shes compassionate and kind, understanding his struggles (but not condoning his actions) and helping him to get better. (he really wants to be saved by her but feels that he just cannot.)

♡ he really doesn't get why she's with him. Hes depressed, miserable, and difficult to be with. His low self esteem sometimes gets the best of him and he starts believing that he's not worthy of her, often leaving her on read, missing her calls, and ignoring her. (im sensing attachment issues) reader clutches w communication though :3

♡ they'd explore abandoned buildings. Simon's there to smoke blunts while readers there to get awesome fit pictures<3 they would go a long way travelling and reader the most practical girl you know has her feet hurt from walking on platforms. they either take lots of breaks or Simon just carries her on his back (unlikely)

♡ talk about taking fit pictures, Simon's technically her photographer. She has a blog where she posts fashion and besides the mirror pics, Simon's always the one taking the pictures. He's quite good at it too.

some of these headcannons probably won't work in his time but who cares(⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ) hope this prompt isnt that hard to write for..(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)you can always ignore if you want!! thankkkkkk you x3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxoxoxox

WARNINGS; MENTIONS OF SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION

AUTHOR'S NOTE; WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU!!! probably inaccurate for both the character and the timeline... listen, I don't know what swedish people were up to in 2012 leave me alone. also not very happy with this, still trying to figure out how to write Simon :3

-he looks comically out of place in your room. just imagine a pastel pink room filled to the brim with cute plushies, shelves full of little trinkets and books, floral bedding and lace curtains. a wall full of movie posters, magazine pages, and little polaroids of your most treasured moments, and then there's a depressed smoke addict.

-you know those videos where it's a boyfriend sleeping in their girlfriend's girly room with a bunch of plushies on top of him? yeah, basically same situation.

-his sleep schedule is fucked up. either he pulls an all nighter or is passed out till 3 pm. when it's one of those times where Simon feels tired, you just let him sleep in your bed whilst you do whatever.

-it's also a great opportunity to gather the perfect pictures for black mailing.

-he just looks so stupid in your room I love him.

-doesn't care about your plushies but will learn to treat them nicely after you yelled at him for 15 minutes straight about how it's unacceptable to throw rilakkuma off the bed just so he could sit down.

-punches the plush when you aren't looking.

-he definitely gives you that pink hello kitty hoodie to wear. or he wears it instead so you two could match. that's probably your idea and he obliges because it's something you love and enjoy.

-really like the idea of him being your personal photographer. he's always the first to leave a like on whatever you post, especially if it's he who took the picture.

-doesn't know anyone besides you. his followings on social media just contain a bunch of his favorite bands and your account.

-a bit sad but I can see him borrowing your money (with permission) to buy cigarettes if his mother refuses to give him any. he wants to buy you stuff you might like but he's too busy spending it on his addiction :(

-he instead draws you your favorite characters so you can put it on the wall alongside your other pictures.

-has never been in the vicinity of a woman without being an awkward shit. moral of the story he doesn't know anything about girls. his knowledge of things is pretty vague, so please don't be surprised if you see him just poking around your vanity and asking a million different questions on what certain products do and why.

-his mother is very happy her son finally found a girlfriend. she approves of you and thinks you're an absolute sweetheart. always asks Simon when you will visit them again.

-you two definitely earn a few stares in public because how did such a sweet and pretty girl end up with a guy like Simon.

-it pisses him off endlessly but can't help his thoughts and feelings. thinks he doesn't deserve you or any of the kind shit you do for him.

-like nonnie said, he probably isn't the greatest boyfriend... there are times where he cancels your hang-outs without further explanation or simply doesn't acknowledge any of your calls and messages. he feels pretty shitty after it and apologizes for his behavior. you forgive him even though you both know he'll do it again.

-he is low-key obsessed with your smell, he smothers anything you have in the shower all over his body without caring what it's for, just simply reads the labels and puts it on... with big amounts. this man is making you go bankrupt. you could literally see the outline of his fingers left in the product..

-his camera is full of pictures of you, he likes looking at them when he feels down. which is pretty often.

-shows you all of his favorite places in Stockholm or even Kirkvile (where does this man live I don't get it) ones that aren't usually full of people, just overly adventurous teenagers from time to time. something tells you that you two have trespassed into private property multiple times but Simon doesn't want to answer that question clearly.

-ugh imagine clipping cute little hair clips into Simon's hair and he just lets you do whatever you want because if you're happy then he is happy and he wants to see you smile :(

-in exchange, you let him do corpse paint on your face.

#♡⁠˖⁠꒰nymphette writes #cry of fear #cof #simon henriksson #simon henriksson x reader #cof simon #cof simon x reader #x reader #headcanons #cry of fear headcanons

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gav-san · 6 days ago

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Cosmic Joke: Trebol (1/2)

Cosmic Joke Masterlist

ONE PIECE Masterlist

Main Masterlist Here

Trebol x Reader Length: 10k+ Rating: 18+ (Infinite), Warnings: Trebol, Snot-related content (mentions of mucus and goo), Slime-related content (mentions of goo and adhesive), Dark Humor, PTSD Recovery, Healing from Abuse, Transformation Mentions of Violence, Mildly Suggestive, Unconventional??? Just gross stuff???? Also, I tried putting in one part and Tumblr won't let me. D:

I did not WANT to do this, but was outfoxed D: Blame this ask: HERE Also, I'm tagging everyone who encouraged it: FIREWORK ANON, number your days. @ithoughtthinks @thisloserhere @physics-of-one-piece @dilf-destroyer-04 @whirlybirdjnr

Part Two D:

If you’re somehow still Interested in being in the taglist? HERE

-X- Bond Awakening -X-

You knew something was wrong with your soulmate bond from the moment you were old enough to string together coherent thoughts.

Most kids with Echo Links reported experiencing warm fuzzies or emotional spikes, such as joy when their soulmate ate a good sandwich or butterflies when they kissed someone by mistake. Cute stuff.

You, however?

You knew something was wrong with your soulmate bond when you were six years old and woke up choking on phantom mucus.

The doctors found nothing. Your mother chalked it up to a nightmare. But you knew. You felt it. Something had oozed through the edges of your mind and taken root like rot under wallpaper.

And it talked.

“Haaaah... I can make ‘em scream without even touchin’ ‘em... that’s real talent, yeah? That’s power. Sticky and sweet, baby.”

You were six.

He was… not six.

You screamed so loud your neighbor thought you'd fallen on a knife.

Age 8:

You didn’t hear your name for years. Even after you tentatively introduced yourself.

Not your real name.

Just vague mutterings: “Little echo,” “tiny voice,” “that sticky spark in the corner of my head.”

He didn’t take it seriously. You were a child, just a flicker on his mental radar. Something he teased out of boredom, when the mood struck.

“Haaa... you hearin’ me, little bug? Don’t go cryin’. It’s just blood! Hee hee~”

He talked at you, not to you.

“Bet you’re real soft. Real sweet. Like a marshmallow I could squish into my teeth.”

You stopped responding.

It became like background noise; low and haunting, like a broken music box left in the attic. Not constant, but always there. Always very gross.

Age 10:

By age ten, you’d made peace with a few facts:

Your soulmate was old. Like a twenty-year-old. His thoughts reeked of back pain and poor decisions.

He was not well.

He was obsessed with goo. Not in a quirky way. In a makes-you-hate-condiments way.

At least once a week, you hear things like:

“Hee hee... stuck ‘im to the ceiling again! He’s still twitching! What a loser!”

Or:

“If I drown in my own snot, I wonder if they’ll call it a heroic death. Ehh... hee hee hee!!”

You gagged.

Your mother thought you were developing schizophrenia. Your father prayed. You, meanwhile, learned to keep a bucket nearby for the psychic nausea.

You grew up learning to live with the interruptions. Around the rambling inner monologues, the snot-slick laughter, the emotional aftershocks of someone profoundly broken. You never knew his name, or face, or location; only the fact that your head was haunted by a man who sounded like he chewed glass for breakfast and bathed in sadness.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to live a normal life.

But there’s nothing normal about learning what snot-based torture smells like before puberty. Or hearing someone cry and laugh at the same time for three days straight.

“Heh... didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t. I just... couldn’t stop once she started begging.”

Your hands shook. Your food spoiled. You dropped out of school for a month with what you told your aunt was a “fever.”

You weren’t the only one affected. The people around you began noticing.

The headaches. The nosebleeds. The way you flinched at specific phrases—drip, drip, drip—and snapped at anyone who dared say “sticky situation” like it wasn’t loaded with trauma.

Counselors assumed trauma. Friends assumed schizophrenia. You stayed silent because the truth was worse:

You were bound, body and soul, to something monstrous.

Age 13:

Teenagehood brought new horrors.

During an otherwise normal algebra class, your soulmate delivered this gem at full volume:

“I bet I could smother someone with this jelly if I tried hard enough. What a sticky little corpse they’d be! Haaahhh~”

You passed out cold and woke up with a detention slip and three concerned notes from the school counselor.

You never knew his name. Just his voice. His presence. His emotional temperature ran somewhere between a delirious uncle who lives in the walls and a Saturday morning cartoon villain with a head injury.

You tried everything to sever the bond:

Drinking holy water

That one shady mystic with seven cats and a mustache named Gregor

Therapy from a bog witch

Nothing worked.

You lived your life around the interruptions. First dates derailed by the sudden telepathic shout of,

“He’s not worthy of you, Doflamingo!! Stab his leg and run!!”

Final exams ruined by high-pitched cackling and mental images of jellyfish in top hats. Concerts interrupted by inner screaming over how slimy violins looked up close.

One day, you got so mad, you yelled back.

You had never done that before. Not really. But this was during your third test in a week, and right as you were finally making a good impression, your soulmate, bless his ghastly little heart, sent this into your brain like a car crash:

“Ehhh, I once bit a guy just to see if his arm would make a ‘pop’ noise. He cried. I laughed. Hee hee~”

You blinked. Smiled at the teacher. And inside your skull, screamed:

“What the ACTUAL hell is wrong with you?! Do you live in a glue factory?!”

There was a pause.

A stunned silence.

Then, for the first time in your life, he responded directly.

“...YOOOOU CAN HEAR MEEE~???”

Then he laughed so hard he gave himself a nosebleed, and you felt it.

Great, now you're both disgusting.

From that point on, things only got worse.

He started narrating his life. Constantly. With the pride of a man convinced he was a misunderstood genius. Clearly, a wanted pirate, so you had that to go on.

You learned his name.

Trebol.

You looked him up when the local marine officer left their paperwork unsupervised. No picture, but a fairly lengthy file on something called the Donquixote Family.

You regretted everything.

You didn’t mean to soulbond with him.

He was a pirate. A major pirate. WANTED. Dangerous. Sticky.

Like, capital-S Sticky. Like, don’t-walk-barefoot-or-you’ll-get-tetanus-through-your-soul kind of sticky.

He had one of those Devil Fruits that made his monologuing less metaphorical and a lot more viscous. You couldn’t even hear his voice in your head without the mental equivalent of your shoes getting suctioned off.

You screamed into a pillow for six hours straight.

He, meanwhile, took it all in stride.

“Ehhhh! My soulmate’s such a shy cutie! I bet you're all bluuuushy right now! Don’t worry, sweetie! I’ll find ya eventually! Just follow the trail of mucus and CRIME! Hee hee! You’re gonna LOVE the torture room I made for you! It’s got curtains!”

And that was before he started flirting.

If you could call it flirting.

It was more like if a sewage pipe developed consciousness, became sentient and horny, and decided you were its goddess.

He called you “my little sugarplum mucus.”

You had to scream again after that one.

At one point, he whispered, “You complete my slime cycle.” Which sounded like a threat or a biology lesson. Or maybe both.

You blocked him telepathically.

He broke through with emotional mucus metaphors.

You're not even sure how.

You tried to explain it to your mom.

“Is he cute?” she asked.

You stared at her.

“He says he has a mustache that moves on its own.” Like it was plotting something. Something perverted.

You screamed again.

“Maybe he’s just enthusiastic,” she offered.

“He called me his ‘future slime queen,’” you said.

“…Maybe he’s rich?”

“I can hear him wetly breathing in my head right now.”

You screamed for a seventh hour. It echoed this time. He told you it was “melodic, but like, wet.”

You’ve started researching telepathic lobotomies.

You pray they work.

Age 15:

Puberty was the turning point.

For you, it meant boundaries. Awareness. Revulsion.

For him, it meant recognition.

The shift was subtle at first. He stopped filling the silence with nonsense and started listening. Really listening; for reactions, for the hitch in your breath, the pause between thoughts, the tremble he could taste across the bond.

You felt it the night he whispered, voice slick and slow:

“You’re older now, huh... I can feel it. You’re not a squeaky little bug anymore.”

You were fifteen. Hiding in a bathroom stall. Hugging your knees. Trembling. He felt that, too.

And he liked it.

“You’re real, huh... real little voice in my head. Soft. Pretty. Smart, maybe. Maybe you’re the one I need to keep me from going too far.”

No.

No, no, no.

You screamed into your pillow until the seams split. You begged the bond to be a glitch, a cosmic joke, a cruel mistake. You buried yourself in every soulmate theory forum, searching for loopholes, counter-rituals, and psychiatric excuses.

You found nothing. Just sympathy. People cooing about fate.

You wanted to stab fate in the eye and kick its corpse into a volcano.

That’s when the messages changed and grew more frequent. Sharper. He stopped treating you like a passing curiosity and started treating you like a person.

But it didn’t feel romantic. It felt like something had just realized its prey could scream.

You learned fast.

Not to answer. Not to flinch. Not to feed it.

Silence became your weapon. Stillness, your shield.

You stuffed salt into pillowcases. Slept with iron charms from fortune tellers who smiled too sadly. You took cold showers to freeze your thoughts before he could taste them. You trained your brain like a soldier, disciplined through sheer necessity.

It didn’t stop him.

But it kept you sane.

And for now, that was enough.

Age 17:

Around this time, he got introspective.

Which, somehow, was worse.

“They all think I’m stupid. A clown. A freak. That’s fine. I make ‘em think that. Easier than admitting I’m the one they send to do what nobody else will. You ever cleaned blood off ceiling beams, sweetheart? It sticks. Hee... like me.”

You were in a quiet café halfway across the world when he said that. The tea in your hand went cold. Your stomach turned. You nearly vomited in front of a table of giggling tourists.

You hissed into your sleeve, low and seething:

“Shut up. You are not mine. You’re not anything but a mistake the universe regrets.”

For once, he went quiet.

Hours passed.

Then, soft—like he was trying on something delicate, something new—

“...I ain’t never had someone talk back before. Not for real. You got fire. I like fire. Means we really must be meant to be.”

You didn’t sleep that night. You packed.

Burned your journals. Abandoned your apartment. Left town with a forged ID and a backpack full of aliases; every name he’d ever whispered in a moment of weakness, a moment of rage. You wore amulets that hummed. Paid old women in cigarette smoke and teeth to stitch sigils into your sleeves. Asked witches how much they charged for soul removal.

(Too much. Always too much.)

But he still found you. Not with footsteps, but with feeling. With phantom bruises. With drunk affection and twitching grief and laughter that sounded like sobbing through glue.

You felt his ache when he was sad. Felt it worse when he craved.

And that was the most unbearable part, wasn’t it?

The part that clung to the corners of your dreams like mold, like guilt, like tar.

Because underneath all that rot and menace, that wheezing horror of a man…

“They love Doffy. Not me. I do the dirty work. They laugh. I mop up what’s left. But maybe... maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d see it. The real me. The smart me. The one who sees everything, sticks to nothing—’cept you.”

He’s not trying to scare you anymore.

He’s trying to connect.

And that?

That was the absolute nightmare. That’s what terrifies you.

Because he didn’t want to ruin you, he wanted you to understand him. To see him. Save him. Sanctify him. Because he believes this bond makes you his. His cure. His absolution. His prize for a lifetime of suffering.

But you are not a prize. You are not a balm. You are not a reward for someone else’s sins.

You are your own person. And he will not have you.

"If you were the last soul on this planet, I’d still rather be alone."

His voice comes quieter this time.

No slime. No wheeze. Just… restrained.

“Ehhhhh~ it sssstill sssseemsss you’re sssstill young, huhhhh~?”

His voice slithers across your mind like syrup down a knife. Too sweet. Too slow. Too close.

He chuckles, high-pitched, wheezing, like a squeaky hinge doused in slime.

“That’s okay~! Eheehee~ I don’t mind waitin’. Little baby bug all wrapped up in attitude—still got growin’ to do, yeah?~ Sssstill got time before you see how good I’d be to ya~”

There’s a wet sound, like he’s licking his teeth through the bond. You can feel the grin.

“Don’t rush it, sweet thing. You’ll get there. They always do.”

And somehow, that is worse than if he’d threatened you.

Because he’s not chasing you anymore, he’s waiting.

Patient. Planted. Smug.

Like a puddle that knows you’ll step in it eventually.

You try to bolt. You pack a bag, forge a travel pass, and make it halfway to the docks before your mother physically grabs the back of your shirt like a misbehaving cat and yanks you backwards into reality.

“Absolutely not.”

You flail, red-faced, furious. “He’s waiting! I can feel it—he’s doing weird things with his aura again!”

Your mom doesn’t even blink. She holds you by the collar while digging out her phone.

“You are seventeen, and underage soulmates are not legally allowed to be kidnapped, wooed, or spiritually absconded with. Bad juju. Bad press.”

“Mom—”

“Do you want to be bonded to a man who uses ‘heehee’ unironically?”

“…No.”

“Do you want your future children to have mucus-themed nicknames?”

“…No!”

She narrows her eyes, serious.

“Then you will sit down, drink some tea, and not run toward the creepy freak who lives in a jar of his own spit. We good?”

You mumble something about fate being a cosmic bully and slump into your chair.

Your mom pats your head like she’s proud. As if a walking biohazard with commitment issues hadn’t spiritually tricked you.

Somewhere in the back of your skull, Trebol sighs dreamily:

“Your mommy’s sssso protective... that’s okay. I like that in a mother-in-law~”

You scream into your tea.

Your mom sighs and gets the salt. Again.

Age 18:

He doesn’t come every day anymore.

Just in waves.

Enough to keep you checking over your shoulder. Enough to make the air feel thick when you’re alone. Enough to stop you cold in the middle of a kiss, because the warmth at the base of your skull isn’t you. It’s him.

And then the whisper comes.

“Ssssee? I've been givin’ ya ssspace, huh~? Didn’t chase, didn’t scream—jusss’ been keepin’ busy, helpin’ out like a good boy. Real good. Real patient. Sticky… and sssweet…and all yours, babygirl~”

The hiss. The smug. The slime-drenched affection masquerading as restraint.

You can feel him smiling like he’s already got you tied up in ribbons made of himself.

Now, officially old enough, you run.

You don’t speak.

You run.

You run like hell.

Because this isn’t romance. This isn’t cosmic design. This is a mistake that’s been allowed to fester—to grow teeth and legs and a name you refuse to say out loud.

He thinks you’re a reward. A symbol. A soft, clean answer to his muck-soaked question of life.

“You’re the one. The balance. The proof I ain’t just some monster in a glue suit. You were meant for me. You’ll keep me human.”

But you remember.

You remember the way his voice lilted with glee when he described peeling secrets out of people’s heads. You remember the slippery sound of satisfaction when he whispered about what bones sound like when they pop the right way. You remember how he laughed at the screams, as if it was all part of the game.

He was never lost.

He likes the dark.

Age 20:

Now you’re in your twenties.

You’ve been off his radar for just over two years. Two years of silence. Two years without slime at the edge of your soul or syrupy whispers creeping into your dreams like rot under floorboards.

It’s been good. Not perfect. But good enough.

You live far from the coasts now, in a quiet inland city where pirate traffic is minimal and Devil Fruit users are more rumor than reality. You have deadbolts on every door. Iron in the walls. You replaced every vent cover yourself and laid salt in the foundation like mortar. The air purifier hums like a guardian spirit, and your neighbors think you have an allergy to mold. It’s easier that way.

You carry disinfectant in your bag. Not a cute little hand spray, but the big kind with a hospital-grade warning label. You treat it like a weapon because it is.

You haven’t dated. Not in years. Not really ever. Not since you were nineteen and Trebol made a bartender disappear for the crime of offering you a complimentary drink and an honest compliment.

You’d laughed. Smiled. Tilted your head just a little too long.

And that night, the slime curled back into your brain like it had never left.

“Hope he doesn’t like his teeth much,” Trebol had whispered, voice warm with sugar. “I don’t either, so it’s fine~! But you’re around—”

He then proceeded to describe your exact location, including the bar.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t answer.

You just bought a burner ID, booked a seatrain, and moved again. That was move number five.

You’ve since memorized every known report on the Donquixote Family and studied the footage from Dressrosa. Read every intelligence file, survivor testimony, and government lie. You know who he serves, who he loves. Who he kills for. You know he’s not the leader, but something worse, a believer. The kind who sticks.

You became a trauma counselor, which everyone said made sense. You're calm. You're kind. You listen without judgment.

No one realizes it’s because you’ve lived with a predator since you were fourteen. Because you know what it means to be haunted. To carry something inside you that talks back.

You don't tell your patients about Trebol. You don’t talk about soulbonds. You don’t describe the syrupy possessiveness, or how he used to whisper nonsense until you fell asleep, then murmur dreams of peeling people apart with sticky fingers. You don’t mention how he cried once, not because he was sorry, but because he missed you.

You help people heal. You teach them that monsters don’t get to define them. You tell them they are not what happened to them.

And some nights, when your hands are steady and your soul is quiet, you almost believe that applies to you, too.

But then the lights flicker.

The walls go still.

And a familiar warmth brushes the base of your skull, slow and thick, like molasses spilled across clean tile.

“You’ve gotten strong, huh, babygirl…Bet you look so put-together now. Bet you still taste sweet.”

You wrap your fingers around the bottle of disinfectant, thumb over the trigger, and take a deep breath.

Age 24:

“You mature yet?”

The question came low and sudden, slick across your mind like someone breathing through warm syrup. You blinked hard, shook your head as if that might toss him loose. But the bond pulled, familiar and rancid, like the smell of a childhood trauma soaked into the walls.

You didn’t answer.

You’ve learned that answering is a mistake.

But that didn’t stop him.

“Humph.”

“Ahhh... your voice! Pretty. I like it better than what I imagined. Marshmallow it is. Better than ‘little bug.”

You froze mid-step, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder as you nearly tripped over a crate of overripe bananas in the market. The vendor cursed. You didn’t even hear him. Blood roared in your ears. Your throat closed like a fist.

“You been hidin’ real good, haven’t ya? Doffy says that’s no way to treat a soulmate. Dressroa is stable now, so the boss says I should finally come get you.”

You didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

It had been weeks since the last whisper. Weeks of quiet. Of blessed, deceiving silence. You’d dared to feel safe enough to go outside in daylight, to shop in a crowded street without checking every reflective surface for movement behind you. You’d smiled at a vendor. Sampled fruit. Laughed at something mundane. Lived.

And now?

Now he sounded lucid. Interested. Focused.

No more giggling nonsense. No more syrup-drenched lullabies.

Trebol wasn’t playing anymore.

And more than anything, you were pissed. Grossed out and pissed.

Your blood turned hot, your stomach churned, and for once, the fear didn’t freeze you. It fueled you. You gritted your teeth, gripped the strap of your bag like it was a weapon, and hissed under your breath:

“Did it ever occur to you that the reason everyone avoids you isn’t fear—it’s secondhand embarrassment?”

-X-Emotional Fallout-X-

For years, you were just background static. A voice he humored when bored. A little squeak in the back of his head, he assumed would one day become pliable, sweet, and soft, and his.

Instead, you became something else entirely.

You got clever.

You learned to hide, not just your body, but your soul. You figured out how to flatten your presence in the bond, blur your emotions until they were no more than white noise, slip through the cracks like fog through crumbling mortar. Soul-quiet. Emotionless. Unreachable.

Most people Trebol meets are loud. Screaming. Begging. Performing. Desperate to be noticed, terrified to be remembered.

You?

You are strategic silence—surgical sarcasm. A rejection so complete it echoes.

It drove him mad. He tried prodding and purring and whispering bedtime stories full of blood and sticky love. You gave him nothing.

Until one day, something slips.

You are tired. Hungry. Distracted. Your defenses crack for just a moment. The bond stirs. The thread flutters, weak and unguarded.

And he feels it.

Not pain. Not longing.

Contempt.

Sharp. Clean. Bright as steel in the dark. You think of him and gag. Not nervously. Not with fear. With judgment. That particular kind of revulsion reserved for mildew in teacups or chewed gum stuck under your shoe.

And that is what piques his interest.

Not your location. Not your voice. Not even your name.

The tone.

It hits him on a bad day. A job for Doflamingo leaves him soaked in things that don’t wash off. The crew is quiet around him. His skin itches. His mind coils in on itself. He’s muttering nonsense to no one, just to hear a sound. He’s poking at you, like he’s wont to do when times are bad.

And then you arrive.

Your voice slithers into the bond, cool and dry and razor-sharp.

“Ehhh~ What’s this? My lil’ marshmallow grew a spine?”

You don’t respond. You’re already gone. A breeze. A shadow. Unreachable.

Which only makes it worse.

He waits. Lingers in the link like fog against a closed window, pressing gently, waiting for the latch to shift. Another thought. Another insult. Another spark of you.

But you’ve vanished again and tucked yourself back behind that veil of nothingness. Not gone, just untouchable.

Now he’s hooked.

He’s never been mocked through a soul bond before. Never been talked down to by someone fate says is supposed to love him. Refused to flirt with him. Not teased. Mocked. Like you saw straight through the sludge and laughed.

So he starts testing it.

Dropping lines. Muttering rants. Bragging like he’s talking to a crowd. Repeating your name in his sleep just in case it tugs something loose. Waiting for you to bite.

“Doffy says I got instincts, see? I know people. I get ‘em. But you—you’re slippery. Ain’t right. You pretend you don’t care, but I feel it, sweetheart. That little flutter in the chest when I talk just right... You hidein’ again? That’s okay. I like the chase. I got glue in my blood, baby—I don’t let go easy.”

Days pass. Then weeks. Silence.

Until one night. Full moon overhead. Your defenses are down. Hormones spiraling. Pain, irritation, and exhaustion collide in a perfect storm of zero patience.

And you respond.

Just once.

Flat. Frosty. Deadpan enough to frost a mirror:

“If you were the last man on Earth, I'd marry a cactus out of spite.”

And then, like smoke through a crack, you vanish again.

Trebol is left alone with the bond still buzzing faintly, like the ghost of your disgust is kissing the edge of his brain.

Trebol does not take this well.

Everyone else plays the part. They grovel, stammer, and flinch when he laughs. They flail when he sticks them to the wall, sob when he leans in close and whispers in that awful, syrup-slick voice.

Even those who dislike him know how the game goes.

But you?

You don’t flirt. You don’t plead. You don’t even cry.

You roast him and then disappear like a ghost in silk gloves. Polished. Effortless. Gone.

And worse, so much worse, you make him doubt himself.

The voice in his head isn’t some sweet little soulmate fantasy. It’s a woman who sounds like she’d commit tax fraud just to ruin his day. Someone more intelligent than him. Sharper. Not afraid of what he might do, but bored by it.

You make him feel like a joke in his own story.

And now he’s spiraling.

You’re the only thing he can’t glue down.

Trebol starts asking questions. Not to you, never directly. You’d vanish harder.

He talks to himself. Muttering in circles. Staring too long at walls. Giggling between sentences and then slamming his fists into the table.

“What kinda girl gets paired with a guy like me and doesn’t cry once? How’s she keep her brain so quiet? That ain’t normal. That’s practiced. What’s she hiding? What’s she done?”

You can feel it when he spirals. The bond flickers with frantic static. Paranoia. Sweat. Desperation wrapped in confusion. He wants to know who you are. Wants to see you. Wants to unravel you until you finally break and give him something he recognizes. Fear, maybe. Adoration if he’s lucky.

He’s convinced that if he can just get you to react—really react—he’ll win.

But you?

You’re doing laundry and filing taxes. Picking out fresh fruit at the market. Flirting with a cute bartender while mentally humming “If Trebol’s watching this, die mad about it.”

You feel it when he snaps. A shriek, guttural and sticky, rips through the bond like a tantrum thrown in a locked room.

And you sigh, long and theatrical, before whispering into the silence:

“I thought you were the scary one. Guess I was wrong.”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

Not because he’s angry. Because he’s thinking.

About you.

And for the first time, the bond doesn’t feel like his leash tying you to him. It feels like a mirror. A sharp, silver surface reflecting a version of himself he never wanted to see.

And somewhere across the sea, you smile into your wineglass and whisper, “Good. Let it haunt you.”

-X-Unexpected Sights-X-

You were having a good day.

Warm sunlight on your skin. A decent pastry in hand. You hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week. The bond was quiet, your mental wards holding steady like a taut string. The town square smelled like fresh bread and blooming citrus, not rot or wet despair.

You let yourself relax, just a little.

You nodded at a shopkeeper. Tossed a coin into a busker’s jar. Bit into your croissant and tasted butter instead of dread.

And then you saw it.

Tacked to a crooked wooden post beside the notice board. Peeling slightly at the corners. Flapping in the breeze like a cosmic middle finger.

A WANTED poster.

Your eyes scanned it before your

TREBOL.3rd Executive of the Donquixote Family.Dead or Alive.Bounty: obscenely high.Smile: hauntingly moist.

You froze.

That face. That greasy curtain of hair. That dripping, unblinking stare like someone had sculpted a frog out of molasses and given it emotional needs.

And the mustache. Dear gods above, the goo.

You stared at it for a full thirty seconds. The pastry in your hand sagged under the weight of sheer psychic trauma. Something in your soul snapped, and what emerged was not fear. It was roast.

Pure. Holy. Devastating.

Your mouth opened, and lightning fell out.

“Oh my GOD. You look like a sea slug dressed up as a Mafia uncle for Halloween.”

Silence. Thick and heavy. Almost… wet.

You blinked once, lips still parted, heat rising to your ears.

“You’re a walking biohazard. I can see the germs. Are you wearing glue or is your skin just giving up?”

Another beat.

Then, a high-pitched wheeze crackled through the bond. A sticky, panicked shuffle.

“Ehhh...? Whaddaya—wait, wh—how’d you—WHA?! You saw me?! YOU’RE LOOKIN’ AT ME RIGHT NOW?!”

You could practically hear him flailing, elbow-deep in emotional goo and zero chill.

You calmly took another bite of your croissant.

“No, genius. I’m looking at your poster. And it’s not doing you any favors.”

You crossed your arms, staring at the poster with the intensity of a disappointed mother reviewing her child’s third failed art project in a row.

The sun was shining. The breeze was gentle. But your soul was on fire.

“You sound disgusting. You look worse. This isn’t a soulmate bond. This is a public health violation.”

The words left your mouth without hesitation. Divine fury in every syllable.

“You look like if a middle school science fair melted. If you ever find me, I’m hiring a priest and a power washer.”

And you meant it. Every word. Every vowel dipped in holy salt.

What you didn’t know, couldn’t have known, was that somewhere across the sea, Trebol stopped walking.

Mid-stride. Mid-sentence. He had been yelling at one of the lower officers, glue dripping from his sleeve, ready to launch into another shrieking tangent about loyalty or mop storage.

Then your voice sliced through the bond like holy fire on old wallpaper. Not fear. Not awe. Not longing.

Just pure, unfiltered judgment:

“A slug in a trench coat...A FROG? Halloween?! Is he serious? He wants a soulmate in THAT condition?”

He turned, slowly.

Looked at himself in the side of a polished blade someone had left out carelessly. Saw the goop-streaked cheeks. The clotted mess of hair. The heavy coat sagging under layers of aging, weaponized adhesive. Saw how the reflection warped under its own moisture.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

The officer he had been yelling at cleared his throat carefully.

“Sir?”

Trebol didn’t answer.

His voice in the bond was soft. Confused. Almost childlike.

“I thought I looked... mysterious.”

You snorted into your coffee, loud enough to draw a glance from the baker.

“You look like you lost a fight with a glue stick and decided to build a personality around it.”

Across the sea, the polished blade slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

“...Ehhhhh... Is this... bad?”

It wasn’t just a bruise to his ego. It was a fracture in the foundation of his entire worldview.

He had imagined you as meek. Scared. Maybe a little feisty in a cute, pathetic way.

Not this.

His whole worldview cracked.

He thought you’d be meek. Scared. Timid. Maybe playfully rude.

Instead, you called him a biohazard and offered to pressure-wash his personality.

Not someone who would call him a biohazard with the tone of a woman filing a complaint to management. Not someone who would threaten to pressure-wash his soul.

That night, the Donquixote compound was eerily quiet.

No glue dripping from the ceiling. No high-pitched cackling echoing down the halls. No bizarre half-sung lullabies about ‘my marshmallow girl’.

Just silence.

Pica peeked into Trebol’s quarters once and immediately backed out. Sugar tried to offer him a snack and was met with a long, blank stare.

He sat on the floor, hunched in his coat, muttering softly.

“Melted science fair... sea slug uncle... glue stick...”

His slime puddle barely moved. He didn’t even stick to the floor.

Trebol did not sleep.

He just stared at the ceiling, sunk halfway into a room-temperature puddle of his own emotional crisis, and quietly reevaluated his entire existence.

Somewhere far away, you refilled your wineglass, pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, and muttered into the bond like tossing a rock into a pond:

“Goodnight, moist disappointment.”

And for once you fall asleep with a smile.

Trebol doesn’t speak to you for five days.

Five.

Not a single damp chuckle. No sticky “Ehhh~” in your ear at 3 a.m. No whispered murder monologues or phantom glue noises while you brush your teeth.

Just silence.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Then you notice the quiet is real. The kind of quiet that settles. Stays. Worries you a little.

You’d be concerned if you weren’t still recovering from the emotional trauma of seeing his face on paper like a cursed trading card. Besides, your last words had been… brutal.

“You look like a swamp had a midlife crisis and bought a jacket.”

You’d meant it. You still do.

But somewhere deep down, you hadn’t expected it to hit quite that hard. Not with him.

He was supposed to bounce back. Slime his way around the insult. Say something gross and call it flirting.

Instead, silence.

No rant. No wheeze. No glue metaphors.

Just the quiet hum of your own thoughts for the first time in ages.

You sip your tea and stare out the window.

You don’t miss him.

But part of you is beginning to wonder if Trebol just experienced, for the first time in his entire chaotic, glue-encrusted life, a self-esteem crisis.

Meanwhile, in Dressrosa:

Trebol stood in front of the cracked mirror in the executive quarters, shirtless, unshowered, and still slick with a layer of glue so potent it would qualify as a controlled substance in most civilized nations. The mirror was warped and streaked, like even its reflection couldn’t bring itself to focus on him clearly. But he could see enough.

Too much, maybe.

“Sea slug in a trench coat…”

He squinted. Tilted his head. Poked a finger at his reflection.

“Halloween frog…”

His mustache twitched. Not proudly, as it once had. Now it just sagged. Limp and glossy with secondhand shame.

“Biohazard personality…”

He stopped.

The words echoed in his head like a curse muttered by a disappointed god. No laughter followed. No nasal giggle. No sticky wheeze of delight. For the first time in what felt like years, Trebol was utterly silent.

He didn’t feel clever. Or threatening. Or even particularly sticky.

He felt… crusty.

And by some miraculous alignment of humiliation, pride, and whatever thin thread held his remaining dignity together, he did something no one, not even Doflamingo, could have predicted.

He bathed.

There was no announcement. No fanfare. He simply vanished from his usual corner of the estate, leaving behind a faint trail of dried glue and a confused subordinate with a mop.

Fifteen minutes later, Pica wandered into the shared showers, towel over his shoulder, humming under his breath, and nearly dropped a dumbbell on his foot.

Trebol was in the shower.

Steam curled around him like incense smoke, rising from hot water that had been running for a while. Trebol was standing directly under the stream, letting it sluice the glue from his arms and chest in slow, syrupy rivulets. A battered bottle of shampoo sat beside him on the tile, next to a yellow rubber duck-shaped scrub brush that looked recently purchased. He was holding it. Gently. Like a man cleansing himself of sin.

Pica froze.

Trebol muttered something, voice barely audible over the hiss of steam.

“She called me a public health violation…I ain’t gonna be someone they put on a poster for ‘don’t be like this.’”

Pica backed out of the showers slowly, towel still over his shoulder. No sudden movements. Not even a breath.

No one mentioned it again.

Three days passed.

On the fourth morning, a junior officer found a pile behind the estate. A towering mass of glue-stained jackets, dozens of them, discarded like cursed relics. The air around them was faintly humid, as if they were still reeling from abandonment.

One of them had a little note pinned to the collar, written in glue smears and faint ink:

“Too moist. No thanks.”

That afternoon, Trebol reemerged in the hall.

He was wearing a button-down.

A real one. Crisp. White. Tucked in. There was a belt. You could see the outline of shoulders underneath. His hair had been scraped back into something vaguely presentable. Though he still trailed a faint sheen of his usual adhesive aura, it had been dialed down from “sentient swamp” to “regrettable humidity.”

No one spoke.

Sugar stopped mid-bite and stared. Pica blinked slowly, one hand hovering near his sword as if this might be some kind of shapeshifter test.

Trebol didn’t grin. He didn’t wink. He just walked.

Like a man who had looked into the abyss, been spiritually pantsed by a soulmate he couldn’t touch, and decided, against all odds and historical precedent, to try being slightly less revolting.

The compound reacted accordingly.

Buffalo fainted in the hallway. Just keeled over like a Victorian maiden. Dellinger screamed and locked himself in a linen closet. Diamante clutched his chest and staggered back, as if someone had uppercut his self-esteem.

Gladius, already on edge from existing in the same building as Trebol, watched him pass in a button-down and promptly hurled himself out the nearest window. It was the third floor. No regrets.

And Doflamingo, seated calmly at the head of a long table covered in discarded plans and high fashion, squinted over the rim of his sunglasses and muttered with mild curiosity:

“Did someone neuter Trebol?”

No one answered. No one could.

Because Trebol had begun asking questions. Real ones. Dangerous ones.

“Do ya think I’m funny, or do I just act funny so people don’t leave? What is personality, really? Am I just... snot in a trench coat with a trauma core? Would I still be me if I wasn't covered in weapons-grade goo?”

A glass shattered in the next room. Someone screamed into a pillow. Baby 5 tried to light a prayer candle.

But Trebol didn’t notice.

For once, he wasn’t focused on the room around him. Not the glue. Not the noise. Not even his own awful inner monologue.

He was thinking. And more than that, he was reaching.

Across the bond, the whisper came softly. Hesitantly. No stickiness. No nasal wheeze. No wet gurgle at the edges of your consciousness.Just a quiet thread of thought, trembling slightly, as if unsure whether it had the right to exist.

“I been... thinkin’. About what you said. About the... slime.”

You blinked. Mid-sip of tea. The cup hovered near your lips as you stared blankly at the window, wondering if you’d finally hallucinated him into saying something vaguely introspective.

You set the cup down. Gave it a long moment. Then answer dryly, instinct winning over sentiment.

“Congratulations. Step one is recognizing you’re moist and offensive.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t whine. Just… answered.

“I started cleanin’ my ears regular now.”

You recoiled.

“Gross that you needed to start that, but I’ll allow it.”

“I been journaling too. Doffy says I’m actin’ weird. But I think I’m just… thinkin’ for once.”

That one stopped you cold. Right there, standing in your little kitchen, surrounded by the quiet hum of your very safe, very typical morning.

No jokes came.

Because this time, he wasn’t poking at the bond to get a rise out of you. He wasn’t baiting or bragging or dripping in self-inflicted drama.

He was… trying.

Not well. Not gracefully. But honestly.

You could feel it. The bond, usually a constant background hum of slime and static, had quieted. Beneath it, something raw stirred. Something small. Something that hadn’t been spoken before.

You sighed; a long, reluctant, emotionally fatigued sigh.

“…Fine. I’ll admit it. You don’t sound like a walking CDC warning every second now.”

“…You think I’m improving?”

“You still sound like if trauma took a personality test, but yes. Marginally.”

And then came the giggle.

Soft. Unforced. Barely there. Not maniacal. Not cracked through with slime or madness. Just a genuine little laugh. Light enough to skate across your ribs without making your skin crawl.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t flinch at the sound of it. Didn’t reach for bleach or a salt packet. You just leaned back and listened.

Two weeks passed.

No glue metaphors. No 3 a.m. serenades about “marshmallow girl.” Just space. Quiet. A few moments of awkward check-ins, like someone learning how to use their voice for the first time without it hurting anyone.

Then, one night, at 2 a.m., just as you were about to drift off, the bond stirred.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t invasive. It was… gentle. Like a hand against the glass of your thoughts, not knocking and just resting there.

“If I change too much... am I still me?”

You lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling.

The fan turned slowly above. Your blankets were warm. A candle flickered on the shelf.

You thought about glue. About masks. About a voice that once terrified you, now sounding smaller than it had any right to.

Then, finally, you answered.

“You were always you. You’re just scrubbing off the parts you thought made you scary enough to deserve love.”

Silence.

There was silence.

Then a quiet breath.

Then, like a child testing a joke to see if they could still be funny—

“…Sticky souls stick together, huh?”

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t ruin the moment.”

You’re still not in love.

But you’re curious. Because the bond no longer feels like a curse. Not quite. It feels like a slow, bizarre, glue-free detente between two war crimes in recovery.

You still threaten to vanish if he tries to flirt. You still call him Slimer when he gets too weird.

But now?

Now he was rinsing his hair. Using moisturizer. Reading actual books and underlining passages, like he understood maybe twenty percent of them. Trying to be something better than a story you tried to block out.

And the wildest part?

He doesn’t stop. Not after the bath. Not after the button-down. Not even after your reluctant compliment that, yes, he sounded marginally less like a biohazard with abandonment issues.

In fact, he doubles down.

You feel it a few days later; one of those late-night pulses in the bond, not desperate, not intrusive. Just present. Careful. Curious. And then he says it:

“I made a list.”

You raise an eyebrow, even though you’re alone in your apartment, half-asleep with a heat pack on your lower back and a face mask on.

“A list of what? Diseases you’ve inspired?”

“A checklist. Self-improvement stuff. You said I was gross, so I’m workin’ on the ungrossification process.”

You sit up a little.

“Ungrossification is not a word.”

“Yeh, well… it’s mine now.”

And he’s serious.

He starts reporting progress like he’s doing lab work.

“Cut my nails today. On purpose.”

“Didn’t use the same towel for everything.”

“Got conditioner. Said ‘for dry hair’ on the bottle. Thought of you.”

You pretend to gag at that one. But he doesn’t say it flirtatiously. He says it as if he's proud to have read a label and followed the instructions.

He even starts using the phrase “less glue, more you” like a mantra.

The glue is still there, somehow it always will be, but it’s not a weapon anymore. Not a blanket. Not his identity. Just something he peels back when he doesn’t need to hide in it.

The real kicker?

He starts sounding almost… normal.

Still weird. Still awkward. Still built like the physical manifestation of a sneeze. But his thoughts are clearer. His tone was steadier; fewer manic spirals, more genuine questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Do you believe in fate or are we just victims of divine algorithms?”

“If I started making better choices, would that undo the bad ones, or just make me a guy who knows what guilt feels like?”

You don’t answer all of them. Some are too big. Some hit too close. But you listen. And that’s more than you ever thought you’d do.

Because somehow, somewhere between the jokes and the grime and the aggressively unhinged devotion, Trebol is becoming someone you don’t hate.

Not out of pity. Not out of guilt. Not even out of twisted soulmate logic.

Just… principle.

He’s trying, and trying well.

And a lot less glue.

Operation: From Mold Mascot to Moody Menace

Step 1: The Goo Goes

Trebol finally, finally gives up the glue cape.

He still has his Devil Fruit powers, of course, but now he controls them with precision. No more constant oozing. No mysterious damp squelches that echo through hallways like a haunted sponge. He starts training with it like a proper Logia user: sharp strikes, armor plates, clean execution. No puddles.

You experience an actual psychic release when he stops muttering “sticky sticky sticky” under his breath mid-fight.

You: “…Did you… just fight without slathering yourself in paste like a rotisserie goblin?”

Trebol, panting from effort, shirt half-open: “Heh. Figured I’d try… style for once.”

He poses. Badly. Arms too wide, knees locked, like a boyband member in mid-exorcism. But he tries.

You know this because he does it in front of a mirror and sends the image.

That bastard had been walking around for years like the Witch of the Waste’s bad facial hair, but he had shaved.

You don’t say anything.

You’re too distracted by the jawline. It was under there the whole time, like a cursed artifact.

But you do laugh.

Step 2: Posture, Bitch.

This man—this creature—has been hunched like a haunted coat rack for thirty years.

But then something shifts.

He stretches. Straightens. Adjusts the posture brace Doflamingo gave him like it’s a weapon of mass refinement. And just like that, Trebol stands up straight.

Turns out, when Trebol isn't slouched like a Victorian poltergeist guarding a damp hallway, he gains six full inches of height, two points in intimidation, and the kind of tragic silhouette that One Piece is contractually obligated to make slightly more attractive.

No one is prepared.

Least of all you.

You: “Why are you tall now?! Sit back down and slouch like the cryptid you are.”

Trebol, smug and looming, arms folded like he just finished narrating a Shakespearean villain monologue: “I’ve been stretchin’. Doffy got me a posture brace. Gunna get a surgery from a surgeon as well.”

You don’t respond.

You are processing.

Because he has shoulders. Real ones. With definition. Not made of goo. Not hidden under slime. Actual bones, doing their job.

And the worst part?

He knows it.

Because One Piece logic dictates that the moment a hunched character stands up straight and hints at a tragic backstory, their cheekbones unlock like a sealed treasure chest.

It’s the law.

Step 3: Wardrobe Upgrade

The trench coat? Gone. The puddle-stained pants? Burned. With fire. Possibly blessed and definitely buried.

Trebol now wears dark, fitted high-collar coats with long gloves and stylized belts. Nothing flashy. Just clean. Sharp. A little sinister in the way a well-dressed man standing silently in a hallway at night is sinister. But mostly, presentable.

He still wears oversized glasses sometimes. Not ironically. He actually needs them. His vision, as it turns out, is surprisingly delicate for a man with a murder record and a personal scent that used to register on the pH scale. He switches to clear lenses and even wipes them before putting them on. With a cloth. Not a sleeve. A cloth.

His hair? Washed and slicked back with a single curl that falls across his forehead like a villain in mourning. He lets it grow out now, just a bit, into soft waves; thick and dark, no longer sealed to his scalp by industrial-grade adhesive.

He walks into a room now, and people don’t scream.

They process.

That’s the only word for it.

Because Trebol walks into the room now with his coat buttoned, hair slicked, posture terrifyingly correct, and people don’t recoil. They don’t gag or check the floor for glue. They stare.

They process.

And somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, a thought forms. Uninvited. Unholy.

You swat it away like a mosquito. But it circles. Buzzes. Refuses to die.

“Not bad?”

You blink. Once. Twice.

You tell yourself it's the lighting. The coat. The fact that he hasn’t said “sticky” in three weeks. Maybe it’s the cheekbones. Maybe you’re dehydrated.

You take a sip of water. You look again.

And the thought hisses back, smug now, with teeth:

“Not. Bad.”

Step 4: Flashback Upgrade (the secret sauce)

Then you get his backstory.

Of course, he has one. And it’s everything you were afraid it might be.

Childhood abandonment on an island where everyone mocked his voice and his powers.

A desperate need to make others laugh so they wouldn’t look too closely at the cracked, weeping thing inside.

A bond with Doflamingo that began as a rescue, then evolved into a blueprint, and ultimately calcified into his sole identity.

A voice disorder he was born with, leaned into, exaggerated, because if they were going to laugh, he’d make it a performance.

The first person who ever hugged him? Someone he had to kill later. Not for fun. For survival.

A diary he’s kept hidden in his old coat for years. Full of doodles. Notes. Poorly written self-help mantras you now realize were about you.

You: “…Oh.”

You again: “…Oh no.”

Trebol, quietly, sincerely, without slime or flair: “…Yeah. I’m messed up. But I’m gettin’ there, marshmallow.”

And then he gives you a lopsided grin. No glue. No masks. Just a little too much tooth. And the kind of raw, cracked vulnerability that makes you want to fight both a priest and a therapist in the same room, at the same time.

You're still not in love.

But you are dangerously close to feeling something that is definitely not contempt.

Step 5: A Dentist Visit

This starts because of you. Obviously.

You, during one of your now-regular psychic roast sessions, sipping tea and barely looking up:

“You could be passable. Maybe. But your teeth look like a haunted piano.”

“...Ehhhhh? My... what now?”

“Your mouth is the villain. Your smile looks like it’s trying to mug me. I heard your molars crack once. From another country.”

Silence. Long and profound.

Then a soft, guttural response, like it’s been rotting in the back of his throat for years:

“I hate the dentist.”

Cut to: Dressrosa’s Private Medical Wing

Trebol is strapped into a reinforced chair like a war criminal awaiting divine judgment. His arms are glued to his sides. Not from power, just anxiety. The dentist is sweating. Bullets. The assistant is reading last rites under her breath. Two nurses have already quit, and one is hiding under the sink.

Trebol is shaking. Not from rage. From shame.

He’s clean. Clothed. He moisturized this morning. He did his mirror affirmations. He even read three pages of a self-help book and underlined the word boundaries.

But the moment the little metal pick appears:

“You ever scraped a soul, doc? ‘Cause you’re about to!”

He screams once. Then bites down on the air hose and rips it out with enough force to evacuate two molars and half a lifetime of unresolved regret.

The hygienist doesn’t scream. Doesn’t scold. She simply nods and walks out the door. Straight into the sea.

But he does it.

God help you, he does it.

One filling. Two extractions. A gum line deep-clean so brutal it echoes through the bond like a minor earthquake with abandonment issues.

You feel it during your lunch break, halfway through a sandwich. The pain slams into your consciousness like divine retribution.

You nearly drop your coffee.

“…What in God’s name are you doing—fighting a jellyfish in your mouth?”

“EhhhhhHHHHHhhhhh—slosh, sputter, suction noises—Gettin’ BETTER!” he screams, mid-rinse. “GETTIN’ NORMAL! It’s workin’, marshmallow. I’m… becoming. Just not sure what.”

You groan into your hands because he’s being dramatic. And he’s being gross. And because he's still Trebol.

But also, because you felt something strange in the echo of that scream.

Pride. Determination. And, for one brief second, mint.

Three days later, Trebol smiles at his reflection.

And for the first time in over thirty years, he doesn’t flinch.

His teeth? Straight. His breath? Legal in 27 countries. His gums? Only mildly inflamed.

He smiles.

And for the first time in over thirty years, he doesn’t flinch. His teeth? Straight. His gums? Only mildly inflamed. His breath? Not a war crime.

You sense it before he says a word. The smile. The clean smile. The soul bond flares like a drunk seagull shrieking at a sunset; loud, chaotic, and way too bright for your emotional preparedness.

You: “…I swear if you try to flirt with me using your mouth now—”

“Don’t worry,” he says, too smooth, “I’m waitin’ for the right moment to knock ya flat, sugar.”

“You got one new smile and suddenly think you’re Doflamingo’s hot cousin.”

You close your eyes. Take a slow breath.

“I think I’m me. But better. And I think that means you’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

You hang up the bond like a Den Den Muschi. No warning. No ceremony. Just click.

You need water. You need air. You need a support group. Possibly a bucket.

And somewhere on the Grand Line, Trebol flosses for the third time that day. Smiles at his reflection.

Because for once?

He doesn’t feel like a punchline. He doesn’t feel like the comic relief with mold in his soul.

He feels like a problem.

And a new twist occurs shortly after.

The first few days after the dentist are rough. He’s sore. He’s offended by floss. He has opinions about toothpaste. He bites his cheek twice while practicing “sibilance” in a cracked mirror. He tries to gargle and ends up choking on ambition.

But then, it clicks.

One day, mid-monologue, pacing gloriously across a freshly cleaned tile floor in a coat that doesn’t squelch when he moves, he gestures wide and announces:

“Specifically—specifically—what I mean is…”

And stops.

Dead silence.

He blinks. Says it again. “Specifically.”

No spitting. No squelching. No horrifying slap of tongue against misaligned tooth.

Just a clean, smooth S.

The world tilts. His brain rattles like a coin in a glass. His ego folds and reinflates in real time.

You feel it instantly in the bond. A mental shiver. Like someone just caught sight of their soul in a mirror, and it waved back.

He whispers, “Did you hear that?”

And you, standing in line at the post office with two packages and a latte, nearly drop your soul.

Because you can hear the switch flip.

Trebol, who once sounded like a slime-coated accordion being stepped on in a swamp, just discovered that language can be clean. That words can be weapons without being wet.

And you know, deep in your caffeinated bones, that this is going to be a problem.

You, cautiously: “…Yes.”

“That was an ‘S.’ A solid S. No warble. No wet whistle. I SAID ‘SPECIFICALLY,’ AND I MEANT IT.”

You burst out laughing so hard you dropped your pen. It clatters across your desk, but you can’t stop wheezing.

Trebol, energized by triumph and delusion, starts testing it obsessively.

“Slippery sea snakes slip southward. Sss-ssoothing sassafras silk. Sassy soulmate sneers silently.”

“Okay, Shakespeare. We get it. You’re a menace with molars now.”

He grins. That newly cleaned, gently sharp smile. Bright. Wide. Smug enough to power a city.

“You’re in so much trouble now that I can do alliterations.”

And damn it…He’s right.

Because the moment the lisp fades?

His voice doesn’t sound like a wet squeaky toy anymore.

It sounds deeper. Gravelly. Smooth, with just a bit of menace. The kind of voice that slides in under your skin and doesn’t ask permission.

But now he has a jawline, working syllables, trauma processing, and at least one polished leather boot. And paired with a jawline that somehow existed under fifteen years of adhesive, a wardrobe upgrade, working syllables, trauma processing, and at least one polished leather boot?

This is getting dangerous.

And Trebol?

He’s still him. Still chaotic. Still twitchy. Still wildly inappropriate. Still wildly inappropriate in ways that require slime insurance.

But now he can pronounce the word “sinister.”

And that is, undeniably, a threat.

Final Results: ???

Looks: Handsome-adjacent. If you squint. If you tilt your head. If you consider emotional damage a cologne.

He’s got cheekbones now. A tragic scar that wasn’t there before the glow-up, and no one’s brave enough to ask questions. Vaguely haunted eyes. A cleaner silhouette that suggests he might own more than one functional outfit.

The world can’t decide if he’s desirable or if he just has enough main character trauma to bend the rules of attraction around himself like narrative gravity.

Vibe: Still unhinged. Still twitches. But now he twitches with a wide range of emotions. There’s subtext. There’s regret. There’s character development in the shoulders. Occasionally, he still monologues like a villain with a redemption arc he hasn’t quite agreed to.

You: Fighting for your life. Because while he’s still technically not your type—you didn’t ask for a reformed glue goblin with attachment issues and a dental plan—he’s now close enough that your soulmate bond is whispering blasphemies.

Things like:

“But what if he kissed you and didn’t taste like battery acid?”

“What if he said your name with that new voice?”

“What if he wore a turtleneck and had the audacity to look good in it?”

You’ve lost sleep. You’ve considered exile. You’ve researched “how to spiritually unfuse a bond without causing emotional damage or summoning an ancient sea god.”

It’s not love.

But it’s something. And that something?

Is terrifying.

Terrifying, because a man who’s willing to work, who’s willing to listen, who’s willing to be better without demanding reward or praise or ownership.

That is the most dangerous kind of man of all.

I'm so sorry taglist:

@cupc4keics @eravariety @prorpy @sagyunaro @annieayuu @dearlymrme @alexicasa @selimaginary @mort-alicious @hephaestusx666 @sporkslol @verdantwyrmcat @ithoughtthinks @thatchickwithfoodintheback @orioncipher @wontknowbetter @cap-lu20 @nin-dy-tro @hiimhappysblog @panchadaara @uraritychain @mu5hro0m @dead-cipher @thecreativewayyysss @savvinion @svalrost @la-dee-dumb @mollys--stuff @wrens-versus-the-world @andreasaintmleux76 @ari200027 @ezzydantes @i-goon-to-doffy @littlebluepixxie @opscoups @estarosa34 @trouble-sistar @hisokas-fav-minor @iwachansupremacy @spiced-apple @nagislemontea @whirlybirdjnr @you-tolkien-to-me @souppp44 @jevoislesbrasdemer @duditani @thesmolestsage @aecrylics @sillytoodlebug @thlix @itspronouncedshi-theed @hidashigojo @thisloserhere @dinosaur-crime-scene @animefreak818 @gloriousdreamerland @sociallyakwardpanda @meow-0x0

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kumezyzo · 1 year ago

Note

Could u do some more dad foolish and dad Quackity if u don’t mind 🫶🏻

alright, so, i chose to make quackity a girl dad. dunno if i said something different before, but for this one, he's a girl dad. sue me. (please dont im broke)

anyway, enjoy! or dont :) m.list

Quackity

dad!quackity likes to talk to your daughter in spanish.

"ayyy, mi amorcito, lindo," he cooes, rubbing his nose into her chubby cheeks.

"hola, mi cielo," he says when he comes to get her in her crib.

"que quieres de comer, línda?" he asks her absently as he looks for blueberries and the sliced bananas you prepared earlier.

dad!quackity who will very loudly yell at his friends to stop yelling. he tells them if theyre any louder, your daughters gonna wake up. and yes, he has his headphones on...

dad!quackity brings her on stream and shows off how absolutely chunky she is.

her arms look like those jumbo marshmallows glued together. her cheeks are slightly red. she has a thick head of hair. and there is not a single thought behind her eyes.

#ctrlc-ctrlvquackity trends since you don't tell people what her name is. but then he hears him call her 'cielo' and that becomes her new name among the fandom.

Foolish

you will find dad!foolish asleep on the couch with your daughter. (yes, i realize i said this in the last one and i stand by what i say.)

she has your face, but his eyes. and your hair. and his stream thinks its so cute that she looks so much like you!!

dad!foolishes stream also thinks its so cute how he subtly (and not so subtly) takes care of you like youre glass. even after you've given birth. especially after you've given birth.

"baby, what are you doing up?" he asks you when he sees you peeking into his office.

"i finally got her to sleep!" you cheer tiredly, your voice in a harsh whisper. he was just as excited as you but he also took it as a warning to be quiet.

"oh, yay!" he says, his voice in the same tone as yours. "you should get to sleep too, though."

"yeah, i will," you say, wading into his office and going over to press a quick kiss to his lips. "night, babe."

"night, pretty girl."

if i missed an accent on any of the vowels, dont get mad at me. my mom never taught me how to actually write in spanish 😭😭 -Nony

#quackity #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity x reader #dad!quackity #quackity fluff #foolish #foolish x you #foolish x yn #foolish x reader #dad!foolish #foolish fluff

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myuiis · 2 years ago

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incorrect lookism 2

we back on our bullshit with this one

sally: i just watched eli drop a remote on his foot and the only thing he said was "im tired of being alive"

jake: hewwo! i will be youw suwgeon today! intewnal bweeding you say? let's make our fiwst wittle incision

sinu: dowcto, we'wre loswing him!!!! 🥺

jerry: quick! hand me the defwibwiwatow

samuel: please. just cut off my fucking life support

johan: met a dumbass today, awful

zack: you looked in a mirror?

johan: one day you will have to answer for your sins and god may not be so merciful

zack: Go big or go home!

mira: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home.

zack: I'm going big!

sally: are you drinking enough water?

eli: sometimes tears fall in my mouth

samuel: Something’s off.

jake : Maybe you’ve finally developed human emotions and feel bad for hurting people.

samuel: No, but that’s funny.

goo, to kouji: Look at you! All cute and small! I could just eat you up!

kouji: proceeds to kick him in the shin and run away

crystal, walking past: Rule number 1, don't call kouji cute or small.

daniel, about jay: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.

vasco: Throw rocks at he.

zack: Hot Dogs.

eli: Kill him.

daniel: Thanks guys.

jake: "It's easy to forget what a sin is in the middle of a battlefield."

samuel: Opposite over hypotenuse.

samuel: Dipshit.

10:

warren, to eli: you can't make everyone like you! you're not sally

sally: w-wait, but not everyone likes me!

warren: who doesn't like you?

sally: w-what

eli: names.

sally: w-

warren: give us their names.

11:

jerry: jake told me to stop worrying and just go get it boy so i'm gonna' go get it boy

jason: go get what?

jerry: i dont know, so i'll just get everything to be safe

12:

goo: we need code names

goo: I’m thinking you all can be sexy beast, marshmallow, record player, beer, and bitch

gun: who’s bitch

goo: who do you think bitch

13:

kouji: send me a pic of you doing the peace sign

crystal: why

kouji: i used you to catfish a sugar daddy

14:

daniel: ok, i get it, you're really stressed out, seven people died-

zack: twelve, actually

daniel: that's not my point. look, theyre dead and whose fault is that?

hudson: yours!

daniel: that's right, nobody's

15:

zack: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me?

daniel: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it.

zack: Three of us saw it, daniel. How do you explain that?

daniel: points at jake Sleep deprivation. points at johan Paranoia. points at samuel Delusional personality disorder.

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campingville · 21 days ago

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“I gotta start charging my phone. It dies so fast anymore.”

“Yeah…”

“…”

“You alright, Jer-?”

“Huh..? Yeah, Im okay…”

“….”

“..My stomach hurts..”

“..You need to stop eating all those damn marshmallows.”

“Sorry…”

“….”

“..I wanted to ask, since Bill and Pete arent here-“

“….”

“…Whyd you get that look.”

“I.. i know what youre gonna ask…”

“About last night..?”

“Yep..”

“….”

“I just.. wanna know if you.. Actually find me.. “Cute.””

“…Well, sometimes. I mean- It depends- You- You sometimes do cute things-! I guess…”

“….”

“…I.. probably shouldve said no…”

“Its alright, thats okay…”

“….”

“Sorry.”

“….”

“..my stomach really hurts.. fuck..”

“..you.. should lay down.”

“i know..”

“…”

“I.. think i said enough last night.”

“You said more than i did.”

“I promise i didnt mean it in a weird way. Just.. I dunno. Youre sweet.”

“Sweet-?”

“Yeah. You can be an ass sometimes but generally youre really nice. Youre the best out of us four.”

“Id say the same about you…”

“Really?”

“..The sweet part. Not.. the best out of us.”

“Wow. I take back the sweet thing”

“Sorry! None of us are that good-! Pete burnt down a store shelf-!”

“You set your pants on fire trying to light fireworks once.. me n Bill are the only ones who dont mess with fire. We’re smart like that.”

“Yeah, yeah.. whatever…”

“…”

“I didnt hate the compliment.”

“Huh?”

“..Yknow. You calling me cute. I liked it.”

“..oh?”

“I dunno. Makes me feel a bit better knowing you.. see me that way. Im.. not sure why…”

“…..”

“..Still figuring that out.”

“What you said made me happy too. You make me really happy.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.. I feel a certain way about.. you.”

“…i… what do you…”

“Im not sure- I.. i guess youre my best friend.”

“…Yeah,, Youre my best friend too, Jer.”

“…Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“……”

“…I should go to bed. My stomach is really bothering me.”

“Yeah.. lay down. And stop eating so many marshmallows.”

“My bad.”

“Goodnight, Josh.”

“Night Jer… love ya.”

“….”

“..in a.. in a best friend way.”

“love you too, josh.”

“in a best friend way.”

#campingville #the eltingville club #eltingville au #eltingville #welcome to eltingville #josh levy #jerry stokes #character interaction

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cheesysoup-arlo · 1 year ago

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Cady’s Cousin (pt.2)

(pt. 1)/(pt. 3)/(pt. 4)

A/N: sorry this is mostly like “texting” also the relationship/couples I have in here are (karen and gretchen), (cady and regina), later I’ll add (janis and reader) and maybe (aaron and kevin g) idk maybe lol I won’t be tagging the ships since they’re not the main ship I hope y’all liked this lol

(Sunday 8:30pm)

*Cady created a group chat*

Cads 🦁: hey guys I made this group chat so (Y/N) can get to know you guys, you guys can get to know them, and just for fun 👍

???(1): aw Cady that’s so sweet, this is Aaron by the way lol

(Y/N): can everyone send their name please 🙏

???(2): karen 💕

???(3): Beyoncé

???(4): that’s Damian ^, this is janis 👾

Damian🌟: janis you’re no fun this is homophobia

Janis👾: yeah I hate the gays 🙄

karen💕: ??? u hat me 😞

Janis👾: no not you karen just Damian

karen💕: o okie 😽

???(5): the hottest bitch you’ll meet

(Y/N): hi Regina

Cads🦁: Y/N!!!

(Y/N): cads chill I know she’s off limits

Regina👛: aw baby you’re so cute when you’re jealous

Janis👾: barf 🤮

(Y/N): 😭😭😭

(Y/N): wait where’s Gretchen?

karen💕: sleping 😴

Damian🌟: Important question! Y/n are you one of them queers?

(Y/N): I would be offended if you thought I wasn’t

*damian has named group chat “fruit loops”*

Janis👾: I-

(Y/N): oh that’s-

Damian🌟: OK STOP BEING HOMOPHOBIC TO THE GAY BLACK MAN IM A MINORITY HERE

Regina👛: how’s everyone feeling about school tomorrow? I’m kind of excited mostly because the school cheese fries just hit different yk?

Cads🦁: I’m excited too but for classes I picked an extra math class this year

(Y/N): ha nerd 🤓

(Y/N): I’m nervous lol but at least I have you guys

Janis👾: I’m not excited I hate school it keeps me from doing more important things

(Y/N): like what?

Janis👾: sleeping

Damian🌟: I’m excited I decided that I’m gonna take the new senior only theater class which is a little out of my comfort zone but I’ll manage

Aaron🧍‍♂️: I was supposed to be graduated last year so I’m not excited at all

(Y/N): YOU GOT HELD BACK?!?! WHAT?!?!

Aaron🧍‍♂️: yeah I failed English and history so I couldn’t graduate

Cads🦁: it’s ok Aaron now you get to be with us for another year 😊

(Sunday 11:50pm) fruit loops

(Y/N): guys I can’t sleep

Janis👾: same I’ve been lying very still and it’s not working

Damian🌟: janis did you take the melatonin I gave you?

Janis👾: yeah but it’s not working 😔

Damian🌟: welp that’s a you problem then

(Monday 2:30am) fruit loops

(Y/N): do you think I can fit 40 mini marshmallows in my mouth?

Janis👾: oh absolutely

(Y/N): omg ur still awake too?

Janis👾: yeah lol

(Y/N): I just put 35 mini marshmallows in my mouth idk if I can fit more

Janis👾: if you fit all 40 I’ll give you 5 bucks

(Y/N): challenge accepted

(Monday 2:37am) fruit loops

(Y/N): I fit all 40 and almost choked lmao

Janis👾: lmao nice your $5 will be given at school

(Y/N): yippieeee

(Y/N): dude I literally can’t sleep

Janis👾: wanna call? That’s what me and Damian used to do before he got a good sleep schedule lmao

(Y/N): um sure me and my friend back home used to do that too

*incoming call from Janis👾*

“Hi” you whispered suddenly feeling a little more tired with her company even if it was only over the phone “hey” janis said with a small yawn “nice shirt” you say seeing her Lego movie shirt “oh um thanks” she says with a laugh “so what’s up?” “Let’s take turns asking each other questions until we fall asleep” you say with a little yawn “hmm ok favorite color?” She asks you “ooo definitely (your favorite color), how about you?” “Hmm either green or purple” “ooo good choice, hmm hobbies?” “I sing and write a little but I guess art even though I don’t consider it a hobby it’s more of a lifestyle” “art? Can I see some?” “Yeah sure I’ll show you some stuff tomorrow” you both yawn “shit it’s 3 am” janis sighs “fuck” you chuckle sleepy “um I’m getting tired” janis says with a tired laugh “me too” you say starting to close your eyes “good night (y/n)” “good night Janis” you say with a yawn falling asleep as she hangs up

Monday 5:30am

“Pst…(y/n)? You gotta wake up” your cousin said lightly shaking you “ugh five more minutes” you mumbled “no come on up you gotta get ready” she insisted, you got up against your body begging to go back to sleep “good morning sleepy head” Cady said with an enthusiastic smile “cads what time is it?” “5:33” “doesn’t school start at like 8:30?” “No it starts at 8 and I wanted to make sure you had enough time to get ready and have breakfast, breakfast is very important” “uh huh…mm thanks cads” you say with a yawn deciding to get up and look through your clothes “meet me in my room when you’re done getting dressed, ok?” Cady said “um ok?” You said grabbing your favorite jeans and shirt then going to look for your jacket as your cousin left

(Monday 5:40 am) fruit loops

Gretchen🌷: good morning everyone soooo so sorry for not texting yesterday I went to bed early

Regina👛: it’s ok Gretch don’t worry about it

Regina👛: also damn I think Janis and (y/n) our new insomniac duo

(Y/N): unfortunately yes I’m so fucking tired also good morning Gretchen

Aaron🧍‍♂️: why are you guys up so early it’s not even six yet? I literally woke up because of all the buzzing

(Y/N): cads woke me up :(

Regina👛: my skincare and makeup routine take like and hour

Gretchen🌷: I like mornings ☀️

You finished getting ready and headed over to Cady’s room like she asked you to. “What’s up cads?” “Eee (y/n) ok so first of all how are you feeling about your first day” “a little nervous and tired I only got like 2 and a half hours of sleep” “oh goodness (y/n) why didn’t you sleep sooner?”cady says concerned “Because I wasn’t tired?” You half joked. Cady hands you a paper. “That’s a map of the school the way Janis sees it she gave it to me on my first day I feel like it could be helpful for you” “oh um wow thanks cads” you say giving her a half hug. Your aunt knocks on Cady’s open door “hey girls good morning” “good morning mom” Cady says enthusiastically, you yawn “morning” you say with a small smile “I’ve got to head to work but I’m assuming you girls have a ride?” “Yeah Aaron’s gonna pick us up I think?” Cady answers “alright I love you two, be on your best behavior and call me or text me if you need me” your aunt says as she leaves “bye” you and Cady say at the same time. You head to the kitchen and pour yourself a bowl of cereal

(Monday 6:40am) fruit loops

Regina👛: my mom is doing a coffee run what does everyone want?

Damian🌟: iced coffee, oat milk, vanilla

Gretchen🌷: just the usual for me and Karen

Janis👾: iced coffee, oat milk, lavender

(Y/N): um (your coffee order) please

Cads🦁: can you just get me a tea?

Regina👛: yeah of course I’ll get your favorite

Aaron🧍‍♂️: regular coffee, cream and sugar please

Regina👛: ok also who’s picking up who today? I can get Karen and Gretchen as usual

Aaron🧍‍♂️: my mom said I don’t have car privileges this week so I can’t give anyone a ride

Damian🌟: I can get janis for sure but if anyone else needs a ride I can get them too

Cads🦁: can you give (Y/N) and I a ride please we’re ready whenever you are 👍

Damian🌟: yeah I’ll be over in 10 then we’ll go get Janis because I know she’s not ready yet

Janis👾: I would be offended but it’s true

Regina👛: alright meet at our usual spot?

Aaron🧍‍♂️: 👍

Damian🌟: sounds good see y’all soon

#janis ‘imi’ike #regina george #cady heron #gretchen wieners #damian hubbard #karen shetty #aaron samuels #mean girls 2024

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daetko · 11 months ago

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mutual headcanons . . .

talia note ; you guys … i wrote this at 4am so this is 100% half yapping but my mutuals on twt did this for me and i was like. omg . tumblr oomfs ur next. also math is kicking my ass so im bringing up multiplication hcs for everyone

@miyamoratsumuu — top of the class & class pres/have some major rule in school. you probably have a really cute smile like the one where ur lips don’t shut fully there’s like space that shows ur teeth a lil & i hc u have chest length hair too ,, you REALLY love youtube video essays probably, lego enjoyer & u 101% like/d kpop, i can see u liking nct and cravity so vividly,,, you also carry chapstick around with you everywhere though you don’t need it but u always end up finishing it somerhow. you’re OKAY at multiplication like you’re not the best but 100% not the worst. Biochem have to be ur favorite subjects (after art) i refuse to believe otherwise. u LOVE white shirts, u dress so nice and have those shirts w the little girl drawings on them, u also are somehow SOMEHOW the type of kid to fake cough infront of a smoking stranger to make them feel bad. squint & you’ll see the vision i’m implying n you 100% have perspective glasses ur supposed to wear but u never wear them, & lastly you have a tiktok account with you lip syncing

@rueclfer — ouhhhh rue i hc ur such a smartass at school like no one expects it but u get SUCH GREAT grades holy shit also ur a SMOKER. Oomf smokes (possibly weed and very rarely cigs) smoker. or u own atleast two dispos trust i know. also you really liked the tooth fairy as a kid and somehow she disappointed you and that’s where ur villain arc started . Atleast 3 dead pet fishes. u also really like zootopia. also probably tried getting into kpop at some point and failed miserably… you are willing to defend cheese sandwiches with your life too. human multiplication machine somehow, or really bad at it. you owe atleast 2 pairs of jorts & those baggy brown/black colored overly comfy oversized jackets that have these little doodles / stars on them & wire headphones, atleast 2 ear piercings and a septum , your screen time is 50% pinterest or twittwe

@loveriotss — lighting mcqueen defender ( i think u probably wanted the car bed / had it at some point) & car enjoyer … you’d love f1 . you watch sam and colby religiously (same) and u LOVEEEE old katy perry songs. u had a marshmallow / selena gomez phase in middle school & you used to have braces in elementary/middle school. you’re either ginger or a really light brown haired person, if u say black or dark brown i will actually be surprised. your aura color is 100% green with a hint of purple (i don’t know much about this but u just give that vibe) you play sims 4 too and really REALLY enjoy lasagna & multiplication (though you’re not the best at it). you’re also like REALLY scared of sneaking your phone in to school (let’s say it’s not allowed) and you were brave enough to do that for once and boom it’s like a cr4ck addiction you can’t stop bringing it to school w u until one day u get caught and they call your mum to school ,,, also u either violate the dress code or dress modestly no inbetween— and did i mention u have SO MANY racer jackets holy shit even if it’s those basic bershka ones

@poetlus / @lunatiqez — mina ashido and bokuto kotaro if they had a fusion of both of their personalities. oomf you LOVE LOOOVEE dresses so much like i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s half ur closet & u also have a bookshelf in your room probably with so many books you haven’t touched since u bought. probably got a scooter for christmas at some point. one of your many pillows on your bed probably has a floral print & your room is BIG LIKE HUGE there’s so much space left despite your huge ass closet. u probably own merch of stuff you USED to like and don’t anymore ,, you also enjoy ramen from restaurants like no tomorrow & you stick ur tongue out at every minor inconvenience (twin ). you also cannot do multiplication, you really hate math but you like to write in the notebook. you’re BLONDE. that’s BLONDE OOMF. or atleast light brunette. you’re like 5”4 too shit maybe 5”3 aswell.. you also LOVE raves and parties & u can fuck up cake like a n expert especially vanilla & red velvet cake . Rip liv you would’ve loved dress to impress

@sepptember — ok so first of all you LOVE shrimp. and i mean LOVE LOVE and you’re okay w other seafood. u also like to add thinly sliced carrot to ramen which is actually goated btw and you’d k1ll someone if a bowl of katsu curry was on the line,, your fav subject is PROBABLY science ,, perhaps geology? maybe? i feel like you have too many stuffed animals and you probably collect those glass drinks lids too, you had a monster energy drink phase & kinned hitoka yachi at some point. you update your letterboxed multiple times a week & you do NOT play about true crime podcasts. bro, please, im begging you to get out your room and see your family. also i think u have a rlly nice room … like it’s either rlly acubi-ish or brown green & some dark colors and veins hanging from the ceiling, both ways aesthetically pleasing to look at !!!! multiplication goat btw

ib this tweet

#daetko #this was So FUN #moot activity heck yeah #talia yap session

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accidentcache · 4 days ago

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first date w ur selfships GO 🗣️

summmerrrr ty <3

touee - rooftop stargazing + smoke sesh. touya wouldn't really call it a date but it was more intimate than our usual hang outs. would roll his eyes and do that cute little smirk he has every time i pointed out a constellation i knew oughfds. totally shotgunned some of the joint in his mouth #hot

deekei - needed a break from things mentally and asked him just to take me somewhere. didn't care where. so we just went flying. around the city, out of the city, late into the night before stopping at some random food vendor that was still open. he forgot his wallet so i had to pay (moron)

toueekei - technically, technically-- the first official poly date was late night swimming. it was after a recon mission thing and it was purely spur of the moment and keigo refused to submerge himself until touya and i dunked him underwater (only touya was forced to sleep on the couch)

dreth - there was a lot of failed dates before the official one, but the first real one was as cheesy as you can imagine. oh my god he tried to pull out all the stops :((( candles, the wine glasses, (didn't make soup for ONCE in his life) and he even wooed me with dessert. then we had a little fire back on my plot and roasted marshmallows for the hell of it. he's so cute im gonna eat him

rumee - rumi. this woman. we went out for drinks. it was going to be a bar crawl but apparently i am a lightweight. she kept poking fun at me and flirted heavy and we drunkenly made out in a random alleyway

deezai - once the initial "i hate you" feelings went away we settled over a coffee date. this man has hearts in his eyes. (internally swooning) and then we doodled random people that passed by the cafe on a piece of the disposable menu

ask abt my selfships (if u want)

#response cache #ohimsummer #hi summer i love you ty #for indulging me #i'll think of a selfship tag for the main in case yall don't wanna see the yap seshs #oudsghduig #moot: summer

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spiel-mit-mir-ein-spiel · 6 months ago

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Feeling B~Punk im Osten pt 13.

Warnings'; none

''Babe, will you come with me?'' Paul said grabbing you hand. ''Yes ofcourse, what's up?'' you said to him smiling when you walked away while holding hands with Paul. ''Before we're heading back home, i need to tell you something important'' he said and he stopped walking and grabbed his wallet while pulling a little photo out of it. He gave it to you and you took it. It was a photo of a babyboy and he had features of Paul. You mouth fell open. '' Babe, this is your son, isn't it?'' you said looking at Paul. He smiled and nodded. ''That's my beautfull Emil'' The way Paul look at the photo of his son warmed your heart. You could tell he was proud of his little boy. '' Babe, that's so wonderfull. He is beautifull'' you said while cupping Paul's face and kissing his lips softly. '' He is, i'm glad you react like this because if we will build a future together , Emil will be apart of it'' You smiled. '' Ofcourse, i understand Paul. I will love to meet Emil when you think the time is right'' Paul wrapped his arms around you and hugged. '' I would love for you to meet Emil. When we are home, i will talk to Yvonne, his mother'' You nodded and hugged him back. '' Daddy Paul, i like that'' You wiggled your eyebrows when you walked back and Paul snorted. '' Idiot'' he replied and you laughed. ''That's why we fit so well together'' you grinned and Paul wrapped his arm around you while walking back to the others.

''Where were you? You promised to be the chef of the BBQ tonight!'' Laura yelled jokely and you grinned. ''Well, i'm here now so give me the goddamn thongs'' you smiled and put the meat on the BBQ. The vibe was good, everybody was having fun and you looked at the group with a smile. When your gaze landed on Paul, you kept staring at him. He was talking with Aljoscha and Flake. He looked so beatifull with his short blonde hair and the fact he was a father made you loved him even more. You didn't knew why but it made you feel secur about your future together. ''Hellooo?? Earth to Y/N'' Nathalie laughed and you blinked your eyes. '"What?'' she said and Aljoscha start laughing. ''You were staring at your man again, creep'' he said jokely and you stuck out your tongue. ''What are your plans when you are home?'' Laura and Aljoscha are moving in together so you can't beat that'' she laughed and you smiled. '' Omg guys, congratz!!'' you smiled and they nodded thankfully. ''Well, when we get home, i will first call my friend Lily. She plays the bass and maybe she will join our band'' You said and Laura smiled. '' That would be awesome!'' she cheered and you laughed. 'Then i will finish my last trimester at beauty school and i'll hope we can finish our album finally and last but not least, meeting a very special little boy'' you smiled from ear to ear and Paul smiled sweetly to you. ''Emil?'' Flake said and Paul nodded. '' Who is Emil?'' Nathalie asked while looking at Paul. ''Emil is my son'' he replied and Nathalie looked surprised. '' Omg , that is so cool! you're a father!'' she yelled out and Flake laughed. ''So cute!'' Laura said and Aljoscha smirked. '' Is it like a thing when dad's are suddenly hot or something?'' he asked surprised and you laughed. '' The fact he is a Daddy'' you said wiggling your eyebrows and Nathalie burst out in laughter. '' Please don't say that again'' Flake looked at you with disgust and you grinned while getting the hamburgers on the plates. You handed the plates out and the last one you gave to Paul. '' Here you go Daddy'' you said jokely and Flake sighed. '' Sometimes you annoy the shit out of me'' Flake laughed and you smirked. '' Whatever. you adore me'' you said smirking while winking to Paul.

When you were all done eating, you sat down by the fire roasting marshmallows. ''Guys , i want to say something'' you said and they all looked at you. '' I want to thank you all for these amazing two weeks. I had a blast and i'm really gratefull we made new friends and found old ones'' you said while winking to Flake. '' I agree!'' Nathalie said and Laura nodded. ''To new friends! and lovers'' Aljoscha said and you all cheered.

After a while you wished everybody good night and went to your bed. It were an eventfull few days and you were drained. When you lay down you pulled the covers over you and sighed in relief. When you almost fell asleep, you heard Paul coming into the truck and closing the doors behind him. ''Are you awake?'' he wispered softly and you turned around. ''Barely'' you grinned and looked at Paul who quickly undressed and crawled under de sheets with you. He pulled you close and when you lay your head on his chest. The beating of his heart made you relax and made you fell asleep. Paul kissed your head and went to sleep aswell.

#paul landers #flake lorenz #aljoscha rompe #feeling b

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br1ghtestlight · 2 years ago

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OMG this episode was so fun!!! i feel like it'll be a lot of fun to rewatch casually and any gretchen episode is amazing obviously

was NOT expecting the subplot about bob's hemorrhoid surgery but somehow it worked LMAO??? and i knew immediately that he was lying about his hemorrhoid being gone bcuz he was scared of the needle. i can read these characters waayyy too easily no surprises for me

gretchen calling her sister her youngest/baby sister makes me think she DOES have another sister who already got married which makes sense

I GOT WAY TOO EXCITED WHEN TEDDY APPEARED we've had like two episodes without him but i reacted like an energetic dog seeing their owner for the first time in weeks after they went on vacation. TEDDY IS THERE teddy my beloved 😁‼️‼️ also any interaction between him and gretchen is hilarious knowing they have the same voice actor and its just him riffing w/ himself in the studio

tina forcing louise and gene to play that boardgame had NO REASON to be that funny maybe its just bcuz i spent a lot of time doing puzzles and board games with my siblings but it was too real.... her saying she's in charge so theyre doing what SHE wants 😭😭

we got to see nat AND jen AND jen's hot cousin dave not to mention gretchen and gayle. love how many secondary characters they're bringing back this season after the Drought that was season 13 and as soon as they mentioned pickles was closed i was like "well jen's hot cousin dave works there right" and three seconds later they mentioned him. knowing deep bob's burgers lore has its perks i guess??

kinda disappointed they didn't mention that bob HAS driven the limo before in the road trip episode after nat was crying abt her girlfriend and everybody else was asleep like he knows how to drive it and we KNOW he does </3 and its cute that gretchen knows nat is linda's friend tbh i just love that. nat is her friend and she talks abt her to other people!! theyrr friends they're pals *starts sobbing and crying*

well at least gayle seems to be getting along with ms baker LMAO

bob trying to talk to hot male strippers on the phone oh he's hopeless 😭😭😭💔

"i think he's pretty hot" ??? what did bob mean by this

they should call the transgender sex workers from season one and ask if they could help out. marshmallow could fix this situation i know she could

"okay. i have a proposal as your babysitter. we stop playing the game, get the ladder, go into the attic, drop down into the crawl space and watch the stripper party through the vent in the restaurant" WHAT IS TINA'S PROBLEM IN THIS EPISODE 😭😭⁉️ all this bcuz she cant admit to her siblings that she isn't having fun playing the stupid board game. unhinged (ALSO CRAWL SPACE MENTION huge moment for people who watched s1ep2 earlier today <- me)

THERE'S MORE CRYING AT THIS STRIP CLUB THAN I EXPECTED DJDKSBJSHDHS

gretchen: you don't get it linda!! you're always the perfect older sister!!!

linda: i mean... im not

gayle: definitely not

linda: OKAY gayle.

gayle: she makes A LOT of mistakes. you know one time she tried to sleep with my husband

linda: no gayle that was you. MY husband and you. bob.

bob: that's true

sorry i just thought that throwback was really funny FJDMDJDKKSS when will dr yap return home from the war (he is an actual psychopath)

"big sisters are allowed to make mistakes too. we're not perfect. otherwise how do little sisters know its okay NOT to be perfect" gene and louise looking at tina right now like 👀👀

"oh THATS what you've been doing for me. thank you" "you're welcome :)" LMAOOO

not the point of this episode but now im just thinking abt tina someday throwing a bachlorette party for louise 😭😭💕 not that i think louise would want a bachlorette party or even want to get married but i dont think that would stop tina

this is reminding me of a fanfic i read where fischoeder was afraid of needles and bob went with him and held his hand because he was scared :(( bob and linda are so cute even when its butt hemorrhoid surgery

#txt #bob's burgers #episode review

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showponyyy · 4 months ago

Text

greenpoint,needlepoint, what’s the point?

march 19, 2025

the worst feeling in the world is having to pee on your walk home from greenpoint. i only know my way around from one L station to the next. i was never good at directions but great at remembering landmarks. like the artist & craftsman store means im near the grand street L and the williamsburg pizza means im now a 10 min walk from home. as i start to think about who i would be if i lived in greenpoint i remember the last thing i did there. how it didnt line up with who i think i would be if i did live in greenpoint (if i were a greenpointer, greenpointian?). well that is of course because i live in east williamsburg and not in greenpoint.

i listen to fiona apple and think it could induce me labor. i’ve been waking up either horny or hungry and i no longer can tell the difference in those two feelings. i admire my friends what’s new. admire their beauty, their writing, their music taste, their shoes. i walk home from my yoga class in greenpoint and think about how i’ve never felt pretty in workout clothes. yesterday i walked from the lower east side through soho and the west village hanging posters that read “got that dog in you?” with farrah and ally. we saw benny blanco pass bon bon and we stopped for candy impulsively sitting on a bench outside trying various sweet treats. gummy sharks and frogs and jaw soring marshmallows. we also stopped at sunday sunday for a matcha and to observe the cute barista farrah has been debating leaving her number for. heart full and teeth sore and tummy aching

i reach williamsburg from greenpoint and go to variety because i can’t make it home before i burst. when i get into the bathroom i think “sweet relief” i want to laugh at myself for being such a goof! sometimes i think in needlepoint pillow sayings. like my mom

last night on the phone i tell farrah sometimes it feels like my value is tied to my art. like i am only as cool or important as my choice to create. and i worry i would be nothing without it. i think the only way i can cope with reality right now is through surrealism. i started reading a book on eve babitz i cant tell if i wanna be like her or have people obsessed with me like they are her. i dont really get obsessed with celebrities. and i never did. i had my one moment when i joined a nick jonas fan club as a kid but other than that i didnt have beiber fever or claim directioner status. other people’s lives interest me sure they fascinate me they do. but it doesn’t breed obsession. not like lili anolik’s obsession with eve babitz. i want people to think me strange and opaque and i think i would be okay if they called me cold even. i can be cold sometimes. but more often im warm.

i tell the same story to two friends. to farrah and chloe i recount how during my week in austin while sick i had a bit of a crash out resulting in me taking too much adderall found in my cousin’s kitchen cabinet, getting gems on both my front teeth like braces, and breaking down in my car in front of a dentist while my insurance was on a hold because in america not only is health insurance not free but after you do finally start paying for it yourself theres a 15 day “holding period” where it’s not active yet. so when you get bronchitis and need antibiotics or you have a crash out and get gems on your two front teeth and want to go to the dentist to get them removed you can’t. well you can you just have to pay for your sins and your sinuses. i cant tell who knows me better from their reaction to this story. farrah for being concerned or chloe for laughing,,,,i conclude both are appropriate.

i make it home. i pass my landmarks: win son where i get my morning coffee and the gourmet deli where i get my midnight turkey sandwiches. grateful for my real life in east williamsburg and ideas of my life in greenpoint.

0 notes

thegreenmetblue · 4 years ago

Note

Advice for the Sleepover Saturday thing: How you be so cute

DHJDJDKSKKSJSJDKKDKDK 🥺

HOW I BE SO CUTE JDKX 🥺🥺🥺🥺 jdjdkkd pls anon hdjdk m weeeak 🥺💖💖💖 i love ya, im cute bc yall make me cute jdkdkdkkd

#SyhjsjskslFJKDK #leah sobbing #CUTE #ssjksks #STOP CALLING ME CUTE IM MARSHMALLOW #🥺🥺💖#sweet anon 🥺💖

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love-strawberry · 3 years ago

Text

i'm happy, isn't that great

summary : in which she's writing love songs and adopting cats with the love of her life.

pairing : harry styles x reader (past), tom holland x reader

warnings : language

author's note : here you go, part iii!!!! hope you all like it!!! <3

tagged : @0oolookitsme @qualitygiantshoepsychic @ellora-brekker

lose you to someone else i

lost you to someone better ii

masterlist

navigation

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liked by hazosterfield, robertdowneyjr, chrisevans and 4,629,915 others

y/n_ i love you tom, but you're an idiot <3

tagged tomholland2013

168,915 comments

username LMFAO

username HIS FACE AT THE END-

username he looks horrified in 3

zendaya ha! what an idiot

username and yet i still thirst for him

username he's so adorable!!

tomholland2013 you promised you wouldn't laugh :(

-> y/n_ consider this payback for eating my muffins last week

hazosterfield he's so stupid like how is he still alive?

username i love you, tom buttttttttt you're a massive dork. and stupid but cutely

samholland1999 lemme guess, he didn't listen to you when you said that he should use a guitar pick?

username i love everyone bullying tom 😌

lifeisahola yet he still looks so beautiful

username 💦💦💦

username i love him

username yes, this man right here my lord

username 🛐🛐🛐

username i cannot believe that this the man for whom i'd risk it all

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liked by y/n_, samholland1999, tuwaine and 4,629,179 others

tomholland2013 we have three cats now and here's how this conversation went

y/n : you know what better than one cat? two cats. and what's better than two cats? three cats :) me : ...

anyways, meet casserole (caz for short), marshmallow and cookie and yes, marshmallow and cookie are lovers 😌

tagged y/n_

168,258 comments

username i love them so much

username that's so y/n of y/n

username i would do that too tbh

zendaya pulling over rn open the fucking door

username i've only had caz, marshmallow and cookie for 28 minutes but if anything happened to them, i would kill everyone on this site and then myself

username marshmallow!!! and cookie!!! and ofc caz!!! i love so much my lord

hazosterfield y/n and tom who? marshmallow and cookie is the ultimate ship 🚢🚢

username AWWWWWWW

username imagine tessa playing with them

username caz looks so happy in that pic

robertdowneyjr perfect, i'll be over for dinner with susan to meet my grandchildren

y/n_ i love my babies 🦋🦋

-> tomholland2013 they love you too, im sure, they've been following you like mama cat since yesterday

username 💕💕💕

harryholland64 i'm coming over asap to meet my nephew and nieces

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liked by louist91, niallhoran, jefezoff and 4,829,926 others

harrystyles loved you once out now. hope you all like it x

145,629 comments

username my heart </3

username "i loved you once and i'm still dealing with it" ouch-

username "i look for you in everyone and search for myself in every mirror, i'm afraid i won't find anyone" stop making me cry

username y/n and harry </3

jefezoff ✨✨

username honestly, these songs are amazing!!

niallhoran ❣️🦋🤍

username wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow

username "called out your name and your silence answered it for me" woah

username the lyrics

billieeilish 💟💟

zayn beautiful song, h!!

username 😭😭😭

username i loved harry and y/n but anyone can see that she's so much happier with tom

username the bridge>>>anything else

username ehishsgsxmabsismahxjs

louist91 beautiful!!

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liked by tomholland2013, chrisevans, harryholland64 and 4,629,925 others

y/n_ "not good at being friends" out now!!! so so so fucking stoked to release this song, i hope you all like it!!! i would say that the inspiration behind this song is tom but i would be lying, so zendaya, the love of my life, this one is for you <3 ily

tagged tomholland2013

168,926 comments

username IM SCREAMING

username "so tired of just sitting at the opposite ends, guess we aren't just good at being friends"

username I FUCKING HOPE THAT I HAUNT YOUR DREAMS CAUSE YOU'VE BEEN TAINTING MINE SINCE LAST SUMMER ZHJFSMSJSMZKSKZO

username omg omg omg omg

zendaya AKAKKSHDHSKAKDHDJS I LOVE YOU BITCH WHY TF ARE YOU WITH TOM?!

username "sunlight on your eyes and i fell in love a hundred times"

username we went from "i stayed up all night looking at moon cause of you" to "you makes my nights with you feel so right"

username she went from writing songs about heartbreak to writing songs about love

tomholland2013 ouch... buT I'M SO PROUD OF YOU I LOVE IT I LOVE YOU

-> y/n_ hehe sorry and thANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU MORE

username yup, i want their love pls

samholland1999 so proud of sister-in-law <3

username "i used to think i'd never have the screen love but i feel like we're in a picture of our own"

----------

#social media au #social media imagines #social media fics #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland fake instagram #tom holland social media imagines #tom holland social media au #tom holland series #harry styles x ex!reader #harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles angsty #harry styles angst

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kz-i-co · 3 years ago

Text

Selfish Desire: Part II

Summary: you tried to move on from your feelings of Minho but the more you keep your little secret private the more guilt you feel.

Pairing: Minho x f!reader

Genre: angst x fluff

Words: 3.5k

A/N: I was gonna make this one longer, but I figured everyone has waited long enough and deserved the next part by now (even if it's more like a filler) but I've already started the next part so I'm sorry this one is as short as it is.

m.list | skz masterlist

Part 1

Don't worry about it (Y/N).....We still have our secrets.

His words still lingered in your mind. You've been avoiding Yeojin's call all day. You couldn't face her. You kissed Minho. Well.....he kissed you, but you didn't stop him.

But you liked him first.

Everything was just unfair. But did you feel bad? Was it wrong that you didn't regret it. Probably.

Okay....maybe you regretted it a little. Does that make you a bad person?

You groaned as you rolled over, not ready to face the day.

"I thought I was the one who is supposed to be hungover." You heard a random knock on your door followed by a voice.

You leaned over seeing Yeojin in the flesh. You instantly panicked. "What are you doing here."

"Both you and Minho are avoiding my call yet you two were the sober ones. Should I know something?" She started causing you to gulp nervously. "Did I say something I wasn't suppose to?"

You felt relief. "No, of course not. I was drinking to."

"But not as much as me." She giggled sitting on your bed. "I'm sorry the night was a disaster."

"You don't need to set me up with Minhos friend to make things less uncomfortable."

"I know, I'm sorry. Jisung is not your type either. But he's really cute so I thought maybe it was worth a try." She shrugged.

"Oh no, he's very nice. But I'm not really looking for anyone right now."

"Don't you think you've been holding long enough. You're almost done with school - it's time to start putting yourself out there......and I can be your wing man- um.....wing woman?...."

"No no no." You immediately shook your head. "If im gonna meet someone I will, let faith work it's magic."

"Faith is my middle name!!!"

"Please shut up." You laid back down throwing the pillow over your face.

This whole thing was unfair.

"Okay fine. But let's do something. Let's go see a movie or bowling or....."

"Yeojin, no offense but can I have one day of peace before I start diving back into my old life here."

"Fine fine fine. But I will be back here first thing in the morning." She walked towards the door. "Plus I need to talk wedding ideas with my maid of honor." The smile grew bigger and more fake as you tried to hold back your tears from the reminder.

She finally shut the door but quickly poked her head back through. "Also, you need to practice your Korean.....you almost sound like a foreigner."

You rolled your eyes as she laughed closing the door again. You were devastated enough her and Minho were a couple but you completely forgot they were engaged as well. Let this nightmare end!

....

You had a spoon full of ice cream in your mouth as you balanced to grab a soda in one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other. You weren't stress eating - definitely not.

You felt something slipping as you couldn't handle the arm space. You quickly held your knee up to grab the ice cream ready to fix your balance until the doorbell rang, startling the marshmallows right out of your grasp.

You put down the ice cream and soda and walked over the marshmallows to make your way to the door. "I told you Yeojin. Peace!"

"I'm sorry to bother you." You didn't expect him to be on the other side of the door.

"What are you doing here?" You stared at Minho as he looked just as guilty as you.

"I think we need to talk." You were speechless. "Can I come in?" He stepped closer causing your heart to beat faster than it already was.

"Does Yeojin know you're here?" You asked as you led him farther into your house.

"What do you think?" He pursed his lips.

"What if she shows up again. I don't want to complicate things farther." You shook your head.

"You're not the only one complicating things.....last night was more my fault than it was yours." He shrugged.

"Let's just pretend it didn't happen. She'll never forgive us if she finds out." You combed your fingers through your hair.

"We can't just ignore your feelings (Y/N)."

"I was drunk- I said a lot of nonsense."

"Doesn't mean it isn't true."

You sighed wishing you never said anything. "I'll be fine."

He gave you that look again. Like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Broken.

"I just want my best friends to be happy."

"Well, I'm not happy knowing you feel like this."

"Minho.....it's too late. I'll learn to live with it. It's just gonna take time."

"Please." You begged.

"Okay. I just want you to be honest with me. We'll pretend it didn't happen." You can see the pain in his expression.

"You guys don't need to worry about me. I still love you both like nothings changed." You continued. "Now, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told her. I need a days peace. Please be going." You held the door open causing him to crack a smile.

"I'll talk to you later though."

"Sure." You smiled.

You can do this. Just take a deep breath.

»Outgoing text :: To Yeojin :: 5:21p.m. What's Jisung's number?

»Incoming text :: From Yeojin :: 5:23p.m. Ummm excuse me???!!??!!

»Outgoing text :: To Yeojin :: 5:24p.m. Im gonna give him another try.....I thought about what you said:)

»Incoming text :: From Yeojin :: 5:25p.m. 83!;$;$28&;!:!

»Incoming text :: From Yeojin :: 5:25p.m. Double? Tomorrow night?

»Outgoing text :: To Yeojin :: 5:27p.m. Sure:) Take the lead

You can't believe you were actually doing this but you needed to move on and Minho needed to forget your feelings for him.

»Incoming text :: From Yeojin :: 5:27p.m. Can't wait! And I promise I won't get drunk this time.

»Outgoing text :: To Yeojin :: 5:28p.m. You won't but I might Lol :D

»Incoming text :: From Yeojin :: 5:28p.m. Oh stop Jisung is great *trying to say with a straight face* >.<

"The fair?"

"Not just the fair, the boardwalk.....I know it's perfect. Play games and rides."

"We meeting the guys there?"

"Yeah. I wanted to ask you something?" She began causing your stomach to turn once again.

"Obviously, me, you and Minho have been best friends since we were little and I know it's still weird for you and trust me I get it but being in a relationship feels so much different than when we were friends. Like I love him but I don't know how to express those feelings......basically what I'm saying is maybe you can help me with my wedding vows. You know how to write so much better than me and I don't know how to put my feelings onto paper."

"I don't feel like I should help you with this." You quickly stated.

"Please. I need it to be perfect." She begged.

"Let's talk about this later okay." You gave a sweet smile.

"Okay. I'm just so not ready for this wedding. There is still so much to do." She sighed. "Sorry, I'm gonna turn into such a bridezilla....I know it."

"I'm sure you won't."

"Hey look. The guys are right there."

Yeojin pulled into the closest parking spot and you met up with the guys.

You avoided contact with Minho. If things weren't weird before they we're definitely now.

You glanced with a simple smile and adverted your eyes to Jisung. He was definitely more handsome than the first time you saw him - especially now that your mind was set on him and only him. Minho needed to leave your mind.

"You ladies look lovely." Jisung said. Wasn't he charming.

"Thank you." Yeojin smiled causing him to arch his eyebrows but glanced you a smiled.

"Nice to see you again." Jisung grabbed your hand as you both were the first to enter through the gate.

He was definitely being more forward than the other night. Maybe Yeojin said something?

"Let's play something." Yeojin suggested first.

"I'm gonna win my date that big monstrous teddy bear." Jisung was quick to run up to the counter.

"Umm.....excuse me buddy. (Y/N) likes penguins." She snatched the money right out of his hand. "You'll never get it anyway."

"Give me my money back."

"Not if you're gonna be an idiot-"

"They really always fight like this don't they." You laughed at the two as you and Minho watched from behind.

"All the time. That's why I'm glad you're back. Sometimes I feel like I'm the third wheel." He smiled.

"Han Jisung! I will kill you." She hit him but more on the playful side.

"OW- Lee Know, control your girl."

You looked at the worker in amusement as he even looked fed up with their shit.

"I'm happy with the teddy bear." You snuck up to Jisungs side causing him to blush.

"See!!!! I told you."

"(Y/N) tell him what you really want." She rolled her eyes. "I doubt you'll get it. Have you seen him play games."

You shook your head 'no'.

"Amazing." He spoke with confidence.

He played the game causing both Minho and Yeojin to laugh in amusement. It wasn't enough to win the so called big monstrous teddy bear but it was enough to win a medium size koala.

He was quick to give you the prize and you immediately cuddled it. "I like this better."

He smiled more with redness to his cheeks. You glanced at Minho for a quick second seeing him look down at his phone, avoiding the situation.

Was he okay?

"Minho, can you win me something?" Yeojin tugged on his arm.

"There isn't prizes small enough, sorry." Jisung gloated causing Minho to glare in response.

"Shut up Jisung. You got lucky." Yeojin defended.

But sure enough Minho was able to win the big monstrous prize causing him to cheer in excitement being his old self.

Jisung's face was full of annoyance as the couple gloated over their big prize. You grabbed his arm reassuring him it was okay.

"How am I suppose to carry that around though?"

"Are you ever happy about anything?" Jisung responded and she was quick to glare.

"We can carry it to the car." Minho suggested.

"Okay. We'll meet up with you guys in a bit." Yeojin spoke and they went on their way.

"Who needs them." He spine causing you to laugh.

...

You knew one thing for sure, Jisung was fun to be around. He had you laughing your cheeks started hurting.

"You weren't kidding. You're nasty at bumper cars." He said as he led you off the ride.

"Well, you totally smoked me at ring toss." You laughed back.

"So what now." You began.

"Farris wheel?" Jisung suggested as the ride became your nearest view point. You lost Minho and Yeojin by this point and figured you would bump into them again later.

"Sure." You smiled and made your way over. The line was barely a problem causing you to get on the ride immediately.

"I'm not gonna lie. I'm a bit scared of heights." You said after they closed the door.

"You want to get off?"

"No it's okay." You grabbed the bar tighter as it began moving up. "It's slow so it's not that bad."

"Well to be honest with you. I'm not a fan of rides either." He laughed.

"Wow something in common already." You laughed back.

"Here." He wrapped his left arm around your shoulder squeezing you into him tighter.

The gesture caused you butterflies, but you couldn't tell if they were good or bad yet. You liked Jisung but he just wasn't Minho. You have been in love with Minho for far too long and it would be hard to move on from that but for the sake of your friendship, you needed to.

"Sorry the other night was so chaotic." He began.

"No worries. It was entertaining."

"But you left early."

"I was just overwhelmed from being back so soon." You lied. "We'll have to do it again for sure."

"So you've really been friends with them your whole life huh?" He asked sweetly.

"Yeah. We were the best of friends since we were little."

"Could you tell Minho and Yeojin had feelings for each other?"

You looked down to hide the distress in your face. "No actually. They've only started after I left for school so..."

He nodded understanding but he could tell you were bothered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"That's okay. It's just weird." You smiled. "When I leave, we're all friends and than I come back and they're a couple." You shrugged.

"I can't imagine how you feel." Jisung sympathized with you. "I can tell Minho's acting different since you're back."

"Really? How?" You asked confused.

"I don't know. He seems more distracted."

"Not in a bad way." He continued from the look on your face. "I can tell he's happy that you're back."

"You seem like a really good friend to him." He smiled at your statement. "You guys met in college?"

"Yeah freshman year. I only met Yeojin when they started dating."

"What do you think of her?" You arched your eyebrow in amusement.

"She's umm.....she's nice." He laughed. "She's a little controlling."

"Is it because of the carpet incident."

"Okay- that was partly because she was drunk. She's usually not that bad." He laughed. "Besides that stain wasn't even that big."

"She doesn't think so."

"I'm never allowed to their house again." You both laughed together.

"You can always be my plus one."

"You want to get banned also?"

The ride coming down at the bottom once again bringing you back to reality. You completely forgotten you were even on the ride in the first place. You actually enjoyed talking to Jisung, he was sweet and funny, maybe this whole situation wasn't looking so bad.

You saw Yeojin and Minho waiting for you as you both got off the ride. Yeojin held her cotton candy tightly, smiling like you both just got married, but Minho on the other hand looked remote, almost like he was hiding what he was really feeling. He couldn't be jealous? There's no way.

Yeojin whispered something breaking him from his train of thought, letting a smile form on his lips. He was definitely hiding something.

"How was the ferris wheel?" Yeojin smiled.

"Scary." Jisung admitted but with a smile.

"Don't be such a wuss." She glared at him.

"Hey now, I found out (Y/N) here doesn't like heights either so we are both wuss's." You smiled with him.

"But we talked the whole time so I kinda forgot how high we were."

"That's good because I was trying to keep it together for you."

"Aw how sweet." You laughed again.

"Shall we get some food." Minho chimed breaking your train of thought.

"Yesssss, let's go." Yeojin rushed.

...

"So what do you think? Any spark yet?" Yeojin talked softly to you as you made your way out of the park and the boys were goofing off behind you.

"Well.....it's too early to tell but he's very sweet and funny." You smiled.

"You forgot annoying." She continued playfully.

"What's with you two anyway?"

"He's just a pain in my ass." She continued. "I always felt like I was third wheeling those two." She laughed but quickly lost her smile glancing at you sympathetic.

"It's okay." You smiled but painfully.

"Did I ever tell you what an amazing friend you are." She leaned in grabbing your arm.

Of course that statement alone made you feel even worse about yourself. You were an amazing friend at all. If only she knew. You felt like you had to tell her but maybe not yet.

....

"4 soju's please." Yeojin ordered.

"Maybe you shouldn't." You laughed.

"It's fine (Y/N), only a few won't hurt."

"Okay." You looked at your friend worried and of course a few turned into 6 very quickly.

"I wasn't aware our best friend is an alcoholic." You laughed feeling slightly buzzed but you knew better than to get yourself drunk as you finished off your glass of water. You were afraid what could pour out of your mouth under the influence.

"She really isn't." Minho confessed.

"Maybe she's worried about the wedding." Jisung spoke up taking a sip. He was at the same state as you, leaving Minho officially the only sober one.

"When is that again?" You slipped out, maybe these drinks were making you too relaxed.

"Oh um...-" Minho cleared his throat.

"We haven't....decided yet." Yeojin slurred her words. "We still have......lots to talk about."

"Especially us....(Y/N)." She smiled towards you, her eyes growing heavy.

"Later." You smiled back patting her on the back. "We should get going."

"I'll drive us." Minho got up first.

"I'll take (Y/N) home." Jisung got up as well, helping you to your feet.

"No, you both have been drinking." He was quick to stop you.

"I've had like two drinks." Jisung defended.

"But you're a reckless driver to begin with."

"What....- am not." He argued embarrassed.

"Minho's right. Even the slightest we shouldn't." You cut in.

"But my car." He pouted.

"We'll get it tomorrow." Minho helped Yeojin up.

"Wasn't this so fun guys?" Yeojin smiled smugly.

"It was great." You and Jisung laughed at her drunken state as Minho was shaking his head in the front seat.

Minho pulled up to your house and you grabbed your things getting out. "Thank you Minho for driving us."

"Bye Jisung." You said sweetly before walking up to your front door.

"(Y/N) wait." Jisung caught up behind you.

"I didn't want to say goodbye yet." He said shyly.

"Is that so?" You blushed.

He leaned closer to you, bringing his lips towards yours with a newfound confidence. You let him take control as you worked your lips with his.

He backed away, blushing in the process. He still managed to take your breath away to your surprise. He was completely different than Minho. But did it have an effect on you? You didn't know what to feel - but you were more than willing to try. You need to dig yourself out of this grave you dug yourself and finally move on. It was time.

This wasn't using Jisung right? You just wanted to get over Minho? You couldn't help but feel a little guilt but what other options did you have? Minho wasn't yours to have.

"Um...- goodnight." He was cute.

"Goodnight Jisung." You smiled sweetly closing the door behind you as he went back to Minhos car.

Another day and another night of thoughts eating away at your thought of Minho as you got ready for bed, but the second you feel you can relax with a clear mind; you hear the sudden soft knock coming from your window.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned as soon as you opened your window.

"I can't sleep." There was sadness in his voice.

"Well, try harder." The corner of his lips turned in a sly grin from your answer.

"I just...." He started. "I don't know what to do about-"

You shook your head disappointed. "We can't turn this into something more than it is - we agreed to forget it ever happened - Yeojin deserves better."

"I know." He sighed as he leaned again your window. "Can I come in? This was a lot easier from when we were kids." He slightly chuckled.

You pursed your lips in a soft smile and let him finally enter your room. "I just wanted to say....I'm happy for you and Jisung, he's a good guy."

You couldn't help but feel he was lying to you. He seemed genuine but there was some secret he was holding back, something he couldn't even tell you. He looked around your room. It's been a while since he snuck in here - he thought.

"Thank you, it's for the best." You smiled.

"You're not seeing him just because of me, right?"

"I'm seeing him so I can move on Minho, like I said before....I'll be fine."

"What's the real reason you're here?" You weren't fooled so easily. "You don't want to forget...do you?"

"No." He looked down before continuing. "I have a lot to talk to you about.”

"Well, can this wait - its after midnight."

"No, it can't." He began. "I've liked you for a long time (Y/N)....and I don't know what to do about it."

"You what?"

too be continued....

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