#also last line crossed out is a joke LOL

[eddiewithcat]

i think it is actually insane that it is considered a “controversial take” to like buck and tommy together.

like … he is canonically seeing him.. wanting to date him… is happy with him.. likes learning more about him..

and honestly? the same thing for any of his past relationships.

like ok you do not need to have liked any of his past girlfriends, hell you dont even have to like tommy! but you also do NOT need to bash / make fun of people who have / do??

buck dated these people for a reason. he liked them! he had chemistry with them! they had cute moments!

you should not feel ashamed or scared to admit that if it’s what you think. and you shouldn’t bash someone for not having the same opinions as you!

and just because you like bucktommy does not mean you are “giving up on buddie” … sick of people saying that actually lmfao LIKE HOWW DOES THAT CORRELATE??

personally, i just want to see buck happy and currently tommy is the one who has been making that happen. if you seriously cannot handle someone shipping them, i highly recommend growing up and getting over it lol

anyway

eddie and his love interests on the other hand……

[bluebellhairpin]

I write cannibalism and murder into my fanfics so I am a cannibal and a murderer. No one is safe near me lest I get confused about what is fiction and what is reality. Lock me up I am sick and twisted.

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[danikamariewrites]

Also I thought of a Liam or Xaden idea but maybe one of them falling for a Healer?

Always Injured

Liam Mairi x reader

A/n: since we don’t fully know a lot of the medical stuff in FW I just kinda made some stuff up lol

Warnings: mentions of injuries, fluff

For the third time this week Xaden was escorting Liam to the infirmary. He rolled his eyes at the blondes wide grin. “You’ve never been so…reckless before. What’s going one?”

Liam shook his head, keeping his eyes on the swinging double doors as they got closer and closer. “Nothing. Challenges have been so tough, right?” Xaden gives him a quizzical look, not believing Liam is having a hard time getting through obstacle courses.

He shoulders open the door while supporting Liam, walking him over to the closest bed. Liam lays back looking around the room for you. His eyes find you listening to your teacher intently as he tends to a ill-looking scribe.

“Ok brother, you are free to go.” Xaden follows Liam’s line of sight. Xaden let’s out a long oh and sends Liam a shut eating grin. He knew there would be teasing later but he didn’t care.

“Get better soon.” Xaden says in a light teasing tone as he exits the infirmary.

-

You saw Xaden bring Liam in. You wanted to go right over to him but you knew your professor would chastise you for leaving a working-lesson. So you stayed with the sick scribe. She just needed cold medicine but learning all kind of symptoms is important.

Once you professor dismissed you to check on other patients you headed straight to Liam’s bed. You gave him a small smile as he held his left wrist out for you to take his pulse.

By now he knew the routine. Liam had been in here practically every other day. “Should you really be a rider? The amount of injuries you get I might as well tie pillows around you.” You joke with him.

Liam let’s out a small laugh as your hands kept checking different parts of his body. When you pressed on his side he winced.

Pulling up his shirt revealed a nasty bruise on his ribs. Grabbing a salve from a nearby cart you scoop out some paste, warming it between your fingers before spreading it on his skin.

“That should help with the pain.” You say quietly. Over Liam’s many trips/stays in the infirmary you grew to deeply care for him. He’s a sweet guy and was always interested in whatever you had to say.

“Thank you,” he groaned out pulling his shirt back down. “That one looks bad Liam. You need to be more careful. I’d hate to see you truly injured.” You say gravely, crossing your arms.

Liam reaches out to pull your hand into his. He gives it a light squeeze and give you a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about me sweets. I’ll be just fine.” You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, well your visits say something different.”

You give his hand one last squeeze before turning to walk away. Liam holds on tighter, slightly pulling you back to the edge of the bed. “Wait, please don’t go yet?”

Plopping yourself on the edge of his bed you narrow your eyes at him. Giving him a knowing smirk like you just figured out his secret. “Not all your injuries have been real.” You say matter of factly.

Liam’s face turns crimson and he looks down avoiding your gaze. “Well, uhh not all of them. Maybe like a headache or two.” He mumbles.

“Any reason?” You tease, poking at his thigh. You desperately wanted to say he has a crush on you too. If he does you would much rather spend time with him outside of this room.

He looks up at you, suddenly shy like he’s speaking to you about a very awkward medical matter. “I keep coming back for you. You’re amazing and I didn’t know how to talk to you, but now I do and I want to get to know you more outside of here.”

You grasp Liam’s hand in yours, taking him by surprise. “I do too Li.” His eyes go wide with joy. “Meet me tonight? At the Bell Tower?” You nod enthusiastically.

He lets out a sigh of relief as you stand. “I have to check in other patients.” You say quietly. Liam nods giving you that boyish grin again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

[flippinpancakes64]

the cullens with a vampire hunter reader that will NOT harm the Cullens?

The Cullens with a Vampire Hunter! Reader

Writing this as I’m waiting for food at the Texas Roadhouse lol

Also I watched Longlegs today talk about a weird ass movie. It was good though, I would recommend it if you're into weird horror.

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He doesn’t trust you at first

Instantly, he knows what you are

He can hear your thoughts and how you intend to harm vampires

He warns the family about you

You had heard about a family of vampires who didn’t harm people, but you didn’t believe it

You were convinced that it had to all be an elaborate lie

But when you see one of them in public, it's instantly obvious

The golden eyes, the calm demeanor, etc.

He takes a while to warm up to you, he still doesn't trust you entirely

But when some opposing vampires come into the area and you fight with the Cullens, he stands corrected

He helps you fight other vampires lol

He doesn't like them either

He follows you all around the world to go hunting

He loves it

Alice:

She sees you coming in a vision

She sees you holding a vampire's head as they wither away into smoke

And then she sees a flash of you crossing the line into whatever town they are in

She warns everyone that you are coming

And when you arrive, you almost get into a battle

But then you see that the Cullens are different

In the moment that you hesitate and choose not to attack, Alice gets a flash of the two of you together in the future

She declares that you're not a threat

She trusts you fully from the beginning

She gets a bit wary just because she's worried that if Jasper slips at all that you might attack him

Just reassure her that you won't <3

Jasper:

You had been tailing him for a while through the college campus

He didn't know who you were or what you wanted

All you knew was that he was far too beautiful and graceful to be human

But one day you sat next to him in the cafeteria and you saw his newly golden eyes from him having just fed yesterday

He could feel the shock from you

When he turned to fully look at you it was like he could feel the connection

After you two talk for a while, he learns that you're a vampire hunter

He gets a bit nervous after that

I feel like he's probably run into some trouble with hunters before

So yeah he's a bit scared

He takes a while to warm up to you

But after you reassure him multiple times that you are not a threat to him or his family, he relaxes

He also tells you about all of his troubles with cravings

He feels so much better that you're so patient with him

Rosalie:

Yeah she doesn't trust you at all

She's already not a huge fan of humans

But someone who poses a threat to her family who she will never admit that she cares about? Yeah no

She will be the last one to warm up to you guaranteed

And it will take a while

She needs to be 100% certain that you aren't gonna hurt them

I feel like it would take one last big push for her to really start trusting you

Like an attack from a rogue vampire that you help fight

That will kick into her mind that you really do care and mean no harm

After that she hangs out with you a bit more

But don't expect too much

At least not a first

Just give her time, she'll come around

Emmett:

He's one of the quickest to trust you

I feel like after a couple of days of you not trying to kill them he's like "good enough for me"

He's just really curious about how you do it

I mean, it takes him a bit of force to kill a vampire, so how does a human do it

He wants to go hunting with you

He just thinks it's fun

Every once in a while, it's very rewarding to pick on someone your own size

He would make jokes about your profession if you ever say he's annoying you

"Emmett. Stop tapping my head, I'm busy"

"Or what? You gonna kill me?"

And then he acts shocked when you hit him on the head

Esme:

She's very worried

The last thing she wants is danger to come to her family

But at her core she is a loving and accepting person

So it doesn't take her long to warm up to you

She is still pretty wary around you, she doesn't truly know what to expect after all

But having you around is a pretty big comfort to her

Just knowing that there's one more person who's able to defend each other should the need arise

She is also very curious about what exactly it is that you do, but she does not want to be a part of that

Not her cup of tea

Carlisle:

Another one who has encountered vampire hunters before

Only, the last ones he interacted with didn't care that he didn't hurt humans, they just wanted him dead

So it's a very pleasant surprise when you don't instantly try to kill him

You explain that you heard rumors of a big vampire clan that was completely docile and you needed to see it for yourself

He's very curious to hear about all of your adventures

But he's also not going to go hunting with you

He has other things to do

He does trust you pretty early on, though

His thought process is that if you wanted to try to kill them then you would have done it already

And Edward or Alice would have told him something's up

Vampire! Bella:

She's pretty extreme

When you first show up and reveal what you are, she is ready to attack no questions asked

But as soon as Edward and Alice confirm that you're not a threat, she is instantly your bestie

In like a casual way though

She's so curious, she wants to know everything

She becomes attached at the hip for a while

And yes she does want to go kick some vampire ass with you

She's so down

[eoieopda]

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading ���� I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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[hanlimz]

lol i wrote this at 2am bc i love jungwon sm and i needed to word vomit so i can focus on this stupid essay i have to write 💔 be gentle w this bc it’s not that good haha !! pls enjoy ❤️

the incessant ringing of your phone is a cacophony of sound pressed against your ear as you wait with bated breath. it’s been a week since jungwon was last able to call, a week since you were able to hear his voice; and, it’s been even longer since you’ve been able to touch him (in any capacity). your palms are itching for the opportunity to cup his face, and your lips are yearning to pepper gentle kisses over the apples of his rounded cheeks.

so, you picked up your phone and clicked on his silly contact photo. while you wait, you count the ceiling tiles. you see how long you can go without blinking. you lose track of time, and you eventually try to freestyle over the stock ringtone. just as you rhyme sublime with you’re mine, the noise stops and jungwon begins to laugh. why he always manages catches you at your worst—you will never know.

“i hope that rap was about me,” he snorts airily, amusement having stolen his breath away. you can almost see his pretty face through the phone; the way the corners of his lips quirk up, his dimple deepening, the gentle reshaping of his eyes as they wane into two, umber crescents. laughter is so transformative, and you’re glad you can see it (even if only in your mind). “oh, [y/n], also—i just posted some selcas on we—” the phone cuts out, and the momentary silence slices at your heart.

“won? you still there?” you ask, tentatively, “i promise the rap was about you. cross my heart, hope to die.”

jungwon’s pseudo-presence floods your chest once more as he chuckles. “that’s good to know, babe—but, no dying on my watch, ‘kay?”

“bold of you to say when you’ve left me here,” you scoff.

“to die?” he inquires, another bout of giggles hiding behind his words.

“to die,” you answer, dramatically. “to wither, to waste away with no boyfriend to sing me to sleep and kiss me when i’m sad.”

the line goes quiet for a few seconds, and it’s almost a comfortable silence. something lurks behind this pregnant pause, however, and you can’t help but feel stifled by the heavy weight building in your stomach. jungwon is overthinking—the feeling is palpable. he’s chewing on his bottom lip and you can almost taste his vanilla chapstick; the nail of his thumb is worn down to the quick in the same way he’s bitten at the inside of his cheek.

“jungwon, you know i’m just joking, right?” there’s a hint of regret lacing your voice, a tinge of melancholy, but it mixes with a resolute affirmation of your love for him. “i miss you, but i couldn’t be more proud of you. watching those clips of you on stage, seeing you enjoy yourself—it all makes me love you even more. you’re doing so well.”

“i know,” he sighs, sounding exceedingly dejected. “i just feel like i can’t give you what you need—like i can’t be who you deserve from this far away.”

your jaw goes slack upon hearing his confession. his words shock you to your core; strong-willed yet so fragile-hearted, why your lover is so critical of himself—you will never know. in your eyes, jungwon is nothing short of angelic; ethereal in a way only known by beings of the heavens, jungwon brightens every room he walks into and makes your day better by merely existing. he is a sanctuary of sorts—warm and inviting and gentle.

“are you insane?” the question tumbled from your mouth before your brain could formulate a better response.

he hums, inquisitively, “i don’t think so?”

“okay, not exactly how i wanted that to come out,” you concede, “but—seriously, won—you’re my everything. you never have to worry about me wanting more, because you’re already who i want. who i need. and, honestly, i don’t know what i did to deserve you.” you know he’s flushed on the other side of the phone, cupping a sweater paw over his face while trying not to giggle and swing his feet like a schoolgirl. “yang jungwon, i love you very much, and i’m always so, so thankful for you … so, tell your brain to stop beating you up, or i’ll kick its slimy, little ass.”

“thank you, [y/n]. i love you, too.” he laughs for a moment, then stops himself, “wait—did you just say my brain was little?!”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: wow! you guys really liked the last svech fic 🥹 thanks for the love! have some more lol. title is lyrics from songbird by fleetwood mac and i am atrocious at coming up with titles so 🤷🏼‍♀️ writing for svech is so fun and is definitely shaking loose some of my writer’s block so i’m going to ride the wave as long as possible. also this got wildly long whoops

tw: some sexual innuendo, but nothing crazy graphic. also a lil bit of a breeding kink (sorry not sorry) and extreme cuteness and girl dad!svech if that’s something you need to be warned about 😇

summary: you and the baby surprise andrei at a game

Evie fights her nap, pushing her pacifier from her face and kicking her little pajama-clad legs in the air. You sigh and stroke her downy blonde hair, “Evie-bug, come on. Mama needs to get things done and you need a nap.”

“No!” Evie squeals, her favorite word. “No, no, no,” she chants and you’re starting to feel a little crazy.

She’s been fussy lately, in a sleep regression and fighting her naps. So you’re both a little overtired and cranky. You cross your arms over the crib railing and drop your head to rest on your forearms, accepting that you’ll probably just have to let her freak out for a bit until she wears herself out. Hopefully that doesn’t mess with your plans for the rest of the day.

A warm, broad hand lands in between your shoulder blades and the spicy scent of Andrei’s cologne surrounds you. “She’s being cranky, still?” he asks and you nod.

“I’ve basically given up,” you mumble. “A one-year-old on nap strike is my Waterloo.” You turn around, leaning your back against the railing and get a good look at your husband. His face is pulled into a sympathetic frown and he’s half dressed, blue suit pants sitting low on his hips. His hair is slicked back, getting a little long so it flips out into the cute little wings behind his ears. You love those little wings and reach up to twist your fingers into the ends of his hair, feeling your stress melt away with his proximity and the body heat coming off of his bare chest.

He chuckles a little at your joke and says, “Let me try,” leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

You scoot to the side, flinging one hand out in a ‘be my guest’ kind of gesture and watch as Evie immediately starts giggling happily when Andrei bends into her line of sight. The little traitor.

Not that you can blame her. You’ve been a giggly mess in Andrei’s presence for years now.

“Evgenia Svechnikova, are you giving your mama a hard time?” he says, clearly trying to maintain a stern tone, but fails spectacularly and ends up speaking in a baby-talk coo.

Evie giggles and reaches for him, babbling “Da, da, da,” until he lifts her out of the crib and settles her into the crook of his arm like she’s a six-pound infant again. Your ovaries twinge with want at the adorable sight - you’re never going to get over seeing Andrei be the best dad to your baby. She turns her little face and buries it against Andrei’s skin, immediately quieting and relaxing.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, humming a little under his breath. You pass him the pacifier Evie had discarded and he takes it, fluidly nudging it into her mouth when she yawns. Her eyelids grow heavy as Andrei rocks her, covering up the brown eyes that match his exactly. One hand pats her bottom gently and rhythmically and you watch, more than a little awed, as Evie slips right into sleep. He looks up and catches your eye, grinning smugly. He winks at you and you scowl playfully, flipping him off. A laugh bubbles in his chest, but he visibly smothers it so he doesn’t wake Evie. He sways for a few more minutes, still humming, and you watch him watch her. There are faint dark circles under his eyes from all the travel and the late nights with Evie when he is home, but his lips are curled in a soft, sweet smile and he just looks so right holding your daughter.

Once he’s satisfied that Evie’s fully asleep, Andrei carefully transitions her into the crib and you pull her little blanket up over her body. She shifts and you both freeze, staring at her as if she’s a ticking time-bomb, but all Evie does is sigh softly around her pacifier and relax into the mattress, flopping her arms to the side in a starfish position. You breathe a sigh of relief and click on the baby monitor before tiptoeing out of the nursery, Andrei hot on your heels. He pulls the door partly shut and turns to you, looking supremely satisfied with himself.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, not even annoyed and just glad Evie’s down for a nap.

“She’s a daddy’s girl,” he replies smugly, laughing while he pulls you in for a hug. He kisses your temple and you inhale his scent.

“She’s not the only one,” you tease, kissing his sternum. There’s not even close to enough time before he leaves for the arena to do anything fun, so you make yourself content with a very long hug. Andrei laughs and pinches your side a little, getting you to wiggle against his front.

His voice is low in your ear when he whispers, “you’re going to distract me, if all I can think about during the game is you.”

His hands are warm on your back and you press yourself closer to him, feeling the hardness of his thighs through his slacks. “How about,” you say, “for every point you get tonight, we try a new position.”

You pull back a little to look up at his face and Andrei’s eyes are twinkling like a kid in a candy store. He smirks, dimple popping, and says slowly, “one position for each point? Any position?”

“Any position,” you confirm, feeling a rush of arousal through your veins. “But only if you get points.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, confident and cocky. “I have motivation now.” His hand slips to your ass and he kisses you deeply, a promise of what’s to come. You melt into his touch, until you remember that he has a game to get to, and pull away.

He pouts and grabs for you when you slip from his touch. “No, no,” you remind him, “you have a game to get to! I will not be on the receiving end of a Rod phone call because you’re late - again!” You squint at him, faux-annoyed.

“That was worth it!” he points out, padding down the hall towards your bedroom so he can finish getting dressed. “That was the afternoon we made Evie.”

Your entire body flushes when you think about that afternoon, nearly two years ago now. He’s probably not wrong, but there’s never been a way to prove it. And honestly, if Evie is the reward from the dressing down Andrei had to take, then you’d both do it all over again.

“We’ve made it almost two years without incident,” you recover. “Let’s keep the streak going.”

“Whatever you say, solnyshka,” he says, finishing the buttons on his shirt and making quick work of his tie. You reach up to straighten the knot and caress his neck and shoulders when you’re done.

You lean up to kiss him again and murmur, “break a skate, Drei.”

He winks at you, “get stretching while I’m gone.”

You snort a laugh and he looks delighted with himself as he grabs his bag, phone, wallet, and keys. He shoves his wallet and phone in his pants’ pocket and you can’t help but watch the fabric strain. Andrei and his tight-ass pants is a duo you’re never, ever going to get tired of.

He gives you another kiss before he leaves and as soon as his car’s out of the driveway, you spring into action with a quick tidying up of the den and kitchen. If you’re lucky, Evie will be knocked out for at least an hour, which should be perfect timing. you take a quick shower with both the shower door and the bathroom door wide open and the baby monitor on full volume on the counter, just in case Evie wakes up. She doesn’t, luckily, giving you time to blow dry your hair and put on a little make-up.

You’re making an early dinner for yourself and packing some snacks into the diaper bag for Evie when the monitor crackles to life and you catch sight of your daughter wiggling around in her crib. She’s still quiet and seemingly content to entertain herself, so you take the opportunity to shove the sandwich into your mouth and finish packing the diaper bag. By the time you’ve drained a glass of water, Evie’s fully awake and calling out for mama.

“Hi, my little Evie-bug,” you coo, entering the nursery. Evie’s on her feet, holding onto the railing and bouncing, looking just like Andrei. “Are you ready to surprise Dada?”

“Dada!” she squeals, nearly clocking her head on your chin when she bounces up and you duck down to lift her out of the crib. You wince at the close call and snuggle her close, peppering kisses all over her face to get the baby laughing. She giggles wildly, the sound music to your ears, and buries her face in your neck, snuggling you back.

“Yep!” You grin, dancing her over to the changing table. “We’re going to surprise Dada. He’s going to be so excited to see you.” As you change her diaper and get her dressed in the teeny Canes jersey (#37 of course, with DADDY spelled out across her shoulders, you nearly cried when Elena bought it as a gift after you announced your pregnancy) and a pair of warm leggings, you keep up a running commentary of what you’re doing. While you were pregnant, you read that constantly talking to babies helps them develop a strong vocabulary, so that’s what you do with Evie. You pull a little pair of Ugg boots over her feet and hold her hands so she’s standing on top of the changing table. Evie shouts nonsense to you and you nod, agreeing. “Exactly, you look so good in Canes’ red, my little bunny.”

You set her down on the floor of your room so you can change too - a pair of ripped jeans and a Svechnikov shirsey under a leather jacket, since you’ll need to be able to move easily when dealing with Evie. You grab the diaper bag, which is doubling as your purse tonight and head out, grateful that Evie doesn’t fight getting into her car seat like usual. She’s got one hand wrapped tightly around the Stormy plush that had been in the gift basket from the team when she was born. Stormy’s looking a little worse for the wear lately, grubby and well-loved. Before you get on the road, you make sure to text Andrei with your usual pre-game message at the normal, pre-warmup time (a red heart, a white heart, a black heart, and the tornado emoji) so he doesn’t get suspicious. He shoots back a string of incomprehensible emojis in reply - also part of the usual pre-game routine - but follows that up with approximately twenty five eggplant emojis, which makes you laugh loudly.

Traffic is on your side, even though it’s a Friday night in early-April in Raleigh, and you make it to PNC in, if not record time, then at least plenty of time to park and get down to the ice before warm-ups start. You and Evie slip into the arena from the back and head off to the family room, a perk you’re never going to get tired of. Since it’s Friday, there’s plenty of other families at the game and you say hi to everyone, passing Evie along to the moms with older kids who take any chance to get their hands on a baby that they can return. Evie loves the attention, showing off with the few words she knows and giving you a chance to set the diaper bag down in the corner and take off your jacket.

It’s less than five minutes to the start of warm-ups, so you take a final bite of a pretzel and gather Evie up in your arms to bring her to the glass. Heather Staal settles a pair of giant red headphones over her ears and grins at Evie, “better safe than sorry, Evie.” She nudges your hip and heads out after her own kids, strolling along with the confidence of nearly a decade of motherhood. You can only hope to be as chill of a mom one day. But for now, you hold Evie on your hip and head to the glass, enjoying the way she’s looking all around the arena at the crowds of people and lights. The kids are all pressed up against the glass, dancing along to the music and you grin at the sight. You can’t wait until Evie is old enough to be running around with the rest of them, a little arena kid.

You shift her in your arms as the warm-up music begins and the visiting team - the New York Islanders - step onto the ice. Evie’s back is against your chest, supported under her butt with one arm and around the stomach by the other. She kids her legs out, Stormy clutched in one hand. Pyotr leads your boys out and then the ice is a swirl of red, white, and black. You keep your gaze trained on the ice for Andrei and watch him take a half lap, spotting the exact moment he sees you and Evie.

Even with part of his face blocked by his helmet and visor, his eyes light up and his entire face is transformed with a huge smile, all dimples and teeth. You grin back at him and bounce a little, getting Evie excited. He skates over to the glass quickly and stops with a spray of ice. It’s too loud to really hear him, but you can see his mouth form the syllables of Evie’s nickname - zaychik - little rabbit, for the way her nose had twitched when she slept as an infant. His smile is so wide you can see the spot where is tooth is missing. You use the arm wrapped around Evie’s stomach to wave her hand at him and she takes over from there, kicking her legs and waving wildly, babbling for Dada.

Andrei flattens his gloved hand against the glass, tapping gently, and you lift Evie so her feet are on the top of the boards and she can pat his hand through the glass. “Say hi to Dada,” you grin, getting emotional from Andrei’s reaction. She squeals and kicks at the glass and Andrei’s eyes look suspiciously misty.

Some of the guys skate around, waving to their own kids and they jostle Andrei, clearly teasing him a little. It’s the first time you’ve brought Evie to a game and Andrei’s definitely surprised about it. He blows you both a kiss and skates back into the middle of the ice, having to warm up before the game. Even still, you can tell his attention is on you and Evie, who’s now wiggling in your arms and trying to escape. You laugh a little and set her on her feet, still holding one of her hands to keep her upright. The older kids converge around her, delighted by how much she laughs and giggles at their antics. It’s so nice to have such a solid community with the other wives and girlfriends.

Warm-ups come to an end, but not before Andrei skates over to the corner again and taps in the glass. You hoist Evie onto your hip and she waves Stormy at him. “Say ‘good luck, Dada,’” you prompt her and she just grins more, giggling when Andrei blows her another kiss. She tucks her face into your neck when he skates off and says, “Dada,” in

a cute little voice. She chews on Stormy’s ear as you head back to the Family room and is content to curl up on your lap while the game starts.

Andrei has a zip in his skates immediately off the jump and sets Aho up with a nice pass, immediately putting the Canes up by one just thirty-five seconds into the game. On the screen, you can see him celebrate, holding up one finger to the sky - a message you know is for you and is confirmed less than ten minutes later when he holds up two fingers as he picks up a secondary assist.

He’s such a menace.

Evie makes it to the end of the first before she throws a tantrum and you know that’s your cue to leave. She fights you all the way to the car, but passes out before you even leave the parking garage, head lolled to the side and soft baby snores filling the backseat.

She transfers terribly when she’s with you, so you just take off her little boots and put her in the crib with the leggings and jersey on, knowing you can change her if and when she wakes up later. You change into sweats and curl up on the couch with the baby monitor to watch the end of the game and scroll social media. The team’s account posted a photo of Andrei and Evie grinning at each other, the corner of your own smile visible on the side of the shot. You screenshot the picture to have for yourself and repost the picture to your stories, tagging Andrei, the team, and writing ‘daddy’s biggest fan’ with a heart-eyes emoji.

You doze off a bit during the second and intermission, but wake up in time to see Andrei score what turns out to be the game-winner halfway through the third. By your count, he’s at a four-point night, tallying a primary assist on a goal during the second. He clearly can count too, because this celly involves holding four fingers up in the air. You shake your head a little. “Whatever gets you going,” you mumble to yourself. Evie calls out for you on the monitor and you head back upstairs to change her into pajamas and give her a cuddle back to sleep. She passes out within minutes, deadweight in your arms and looking incredibly like Andrei while she sleeps. Her eye shape and lips are exactly his, with a teeny little dimple in her right cheek. You trace your index finger lightly over the slope of her little nose, the one thing she inherited from you. She makes a soft little noise and smacks her lips, just like she had when she was a newborn. Honestly, you really can’t believe how blessed you are to be sitting here with your daughter while your husband gets to live his dream in the NHL. Whenever you think about Andrei’s journey, it makes you a little teary-eyed.

You’re just glad you get to be by his side during it.

Later, after Evie’s solidly asleep and back in her crib, you crawl into bed, exhausted from the day. The post-game is airing, but you know Andrei’s already on his way home. Should arrive any minute based on his text as he was leaving the arena - just a simple ‘I love you.’ Sure enough, you can hear the front door open a few minutes later and then all at once, Andrei is in your room, a stupid grin on his face.

“You really surprised me,” he says, leaning against the doorframe.

You beam at him, taking in his damp hair and slightly disheveled suit. “That was the plan, Mister Svechnikov. I’m glad it worked.”

“Evie in that little jersey,” he trails off, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You, her, hockey.”

“You deserve it all and more,” you say softly, sitting up and crossing your legs pretzel-style. Raising an eyebrow at him, you continue, “and a four-point night, on top of it all.”

Andrei loosens the knot of his tie and shakes his head. “Solnyshka, I don’t care about new positions.” His voice lowers and his eyes turn molten. “I only want the position that will put another baby in you. I want another baby, let me give you one.”

“Oh,” you gasp, feeling warm all over. Andrei very deliberately takes his tie and jacket off, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them up his forearms. You love his forearms.

“Will you let me put a baby in you?” He asks, coming over to your side of the bed and cupping your face in both hands. His palms are warm and a little calloused. His eyes are dark and you nod up at him, a hand already drifting under the covers and under the waistband of your sweats.

He grins, puppy-dog enthusiasm underneath the desire in his tone. He dips you back and kisses you, hot and hard and oh boy, you’ll give this man as many babies as he wants. His hand curls around the back of your neck and tongue sweeps over your lower lip. You lock your hands around his neck, holding on for dear life. Andrei’s knee comes up to rest on the mattress, dipping under his weight and you slip further down on the mattress, hooking one leg around his hip. Just as his hand slides down your side and up under your shirt, the baby monitor crackles and Evie’s little voice breaks through the haze of lust enveloping the both of you. Andrei pulls back, blinking, and shakes his head. “I’ll get her,” he says hoarsely, kissing your forehead before heading off to the nursery.

Still dazed, you climb out of bed to join him, eager for another hit of Andrei as a dad. He’s got Evie in his arms when you get to the nursery, her cheek against his shoulder and if you thought seeing him hold her shirtless earlier, it’s got nothing on the gut-punch to the ovary that is seeing him hold her while in a button down with rolled up sleeves.

You linger in the doorway while he sings softly, and a little off key, swaying in place. He doesn’t realize that you’re there - he can’t, otherwise he wouldn’t whisper, “do you want to be a big sister, zaychik? A little brother or sister? I think Mama will let us give you that. A best friend for you, like I have Uncle Geno?”

Evie blinks sleepily in his arms, mumbling for Dada, which Andrei takes to be a yes. He laughs quietly. “Mama and I will work on it,” he kisses the top of her head and you back slowly from the room, giving Andrei his time with Evie.

He turns before you can get very far and spots you, not surprised in the slightest. With his free hand, he gestures you forward and opens his arm for you to step in. You tuck yourself up against his side and he kisses the crown of your head while you sway to lull Evie back to sleep. The little girl reaches her hand out for you and you hold your fingers out for her to grab. She sighs contentedly and you stroke your thumb over her soft skin.

“Give me a whole hockey team’s roster of these little mini-yous,” you whisper up to Andrei.

“As many as you want,” he promises seriously, eyes twinkling.

[certifiedtrashmouth]

Oh gosh I don’t wanna repeat someone and I’m not sure about Xmas traditions but what about ridiculous stocking stuffers w Eddie? Fluff/humor.

oh, god. this one also got out of hand. started in light-hearted fun and ended in fluff that had me screaming into my pillow. i'm sorry for the length.

good for one kiss (eddie munson x reader)

warnings: none really. mentions of penis??? (eddie makes a joke about his dick and there's mention of a blowjob but no description lol), mentions of cigarettes, idiots in love. best friends to lovers.

“What am I supposed to do with a single piece of gum?” 

“What am I supposed to do with a single cigarette?” 

“Smoke it, idiot.”

“It’s broken, idiot.” 

“Oh.” 

You and Eddie sit cross-legged across from each other on his bed on Christmas Eve, partaking in your annual gift exchange. But there was a catch; each year, you exchanged stockings, only gifting each other what you could fit in the glorified, fleece-lined socks. There had only been two exceptions to the rule of the years - the year you’d gifted Eddie his first professional-grade amp and he’d bawled like a baby (once he’d dried his tears, he’d threatened you and Wayne both endlessly about ever letting the story leave the room. The two of you had exchanged a look, though, knowing neither of you would ever let him live it down.) and the year Eddie had bought you your first acoustic six-string with the promise of lessons from him (it was onyx black and shined with promise as Eddie explained the two of you needed to use paint markers to decorate it). 

It was going on five years of the tradition that had stemmed from both of you never being able to afford much for each other, but still wanting to show you care nevertheless. And as the years had gone on, the gifts had slowly found their rhythm. There was always a perfect mixture of cliche throwaway gifts, gag gifts, and gifts so sentimental that some tears were sure to be shed by one of the parties. 

“I didn’t think it would break,” you scrunch your nose slightly as Eddie holds up the cigarette, limp from the crack in the middle of it. 

“What did you expect, just throwing it in here like that?” Eddie laughs, not bothered in the slightest. He had a pack of Camels snug in the pocket of his leather jacket slung over his desk chair. It was the thought that counted, after all. 

“I expected it to be absolutely fucking invincible for how expensive the pack was,” you whine, and he can’t help but watch you with bemusement, “I spent my last dollar from my tips on that damn pack.” 

The mention of that softens the look in Eddie’s eyes. He knew the two of you struggled to come up with enough money to even keep up this tradition; he had hardly seen you due to how many spare shifts you’d been picking up at Benny’s the last few weeks. 

You catch the look, immediately straighten up, “No, no, no. Don’t even go there, Munson. I can see you going there. Come back to me, idiot.” 

Idiot. The term of endearment you’d coined for him since you’d first met in sophomore year of high school. He’d heard it in a dozen different tones - elated, annoyed, exhausted - but not a single one held an ounce of genuine negativity towards him. You made idiot sound like my love. 

He wasn’t your lover, though. He kicked himself in the shins every morning over it, always telling himself that today was the day and I’m going to tell her how I feel finally. 

Spoiler alert. He never did. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he offers up his own loving nickname for you, “I just know you’ve been busting your ass at Benny’s-” 

“Yes, I have, because I want to spoil you for the holidays. I don’t regret a single second of it. Even when those creepy old men tried to shove the dollar bills in my shirt rather than just hand them to me.”

You both laugh at the memory. It hadn’t been very funny when it happened, leading to you calling Eddie crying and him coming to your rescue, but enough time had passed to see the humor in it all. 

The rest of the gift exchange goes as expected for the most part. The gag gifts pull the appropriate amount of laughter, and the more genuine gifts pull a softness out of each other that nearly had each of your eyes’ pupils forming hearts. 

Eddie fawns over a pack of pics you’d had customized with Corroded Coffin’s logo, and you react just as bluntly as expected when you pull a long red candle from your stocking, looking up to Eddie blankly. 

“For when I finally sacrifice you in the woods,” he explains with a cheesy grin, “Gotta have candles if we’re going to worship Satan, sweetheart.” 

“Ha-ha,” you dead pan, tilting your head slightly as you keep a straight face, completely unimpressed, “You’re hilarious, Munson.” 

“Hey, I could have made a sex joke,” he throws up his hands in a defensive manner, shrugging his shoulders and looking to the ground in faux shyness. 

“Yeah, yeah - you could have made a sex joke,” you mumble as you shove the candle to the side, a smile still escaping the corners of your mouth. 

“As a matter of fact, I still can. Don’t think I didn’t notice the fact that you replaced my stocking this year, darling, and that it’s noticeably larger. Finally big enough to fit over my massive dic-” 

“You’re disgusting,” you interrupt, grabbing the candle and now whacking one of his knees with it, making him fall victim to an uncontrollable giggling fit, “Have you ever been told that? Let me be the first to tell you - you’re absolutely vile, Edward Munson.” 

You don’t mean it, and he knows you don’t. You’re both laughing too much over it. 

You’re starting to get to the bottom of the stockings now. You each have an odd arrangement of candy that had been included in each respective stocking - Eddie is socking on a blue jolly rancher, being sure to make annoying slurping noises to get a rise out of you, as you nibble on a miniature candy cane. There’s only one gift left in your stocking, a small box that you only reach for once you rewrap the candy cane in the plastic wrap it’d come in that you’d saved to avoid getting sticky fingers. 

“What’s this?” you ask, pulling it out and letting the empty stocking fall into your lap. 

Eddie looks up from where he was preoccupied with attempting to open another jolly rancher. His eyes light up from the present in your palm, “Oh, only saving the best one for last, sweet thing.” 

You look at him questioningly, but begin to slide your finger under the delicate edge of the small box regardless. It takes concentration to pry open the box without tearing it, but you do, you gasp. 

In a bed of cotton, there’s a necklace. 

It looks like a copy of Eddie’s signature pick necklace. But instead of the dark swirling black between clouds of burgundy red, it shines with pearlescent opal white and ruby red, glimmering on a silver chain as if it were made of jewels. 

When you gently lift it from the box, it’s clear it’s not a real pick. It’s heavier - Hell, it might actually be made of gemstones. 

“Eddie-” you gasp, cutting yourself off, mesmerized by the beauty. 

He’s nearly shaking with delight, “It’s a locket. Look, open it.” 

You see what he means immediately, realizing that the weight was from the thickness of the faux pick. There’s a subtle seam, with a silver lock on the side that clicks gently when you press on it. The locket swings open, and inside is a snug photo of you and Eddie. You can pinpoint exactly when the photo was taken; it was at your birthday party two years ago, both of you laughing with cake icing on the tips of your nose. The photo is in dramatic black and white, but you can still picture how obnoxiously red your cheeks were with Eddie’s arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you two lost it over God knows what. 

You feel yourself beginning to tear up, completely stunned, “I- Oh my God, Eddie. I don’t know what to say.”

“You can start with how I’m the best friend ever,” he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you let out a breathless laugh. 

“It’s…God, it’s beautiful. This- This is too much, Eddie. I can’t imagine how expensive-”

“Nope,” he cuts you off quickly, waving his hands frantically, refusing to listen to your lecture. He didn’t care if it had cost him everything he owned, down to the clothes on his back - it was worth it to see that look on your face. “Don’t even start, sweetheart. One of Wayne’s friends at the plant has a wife who makes jewelry for a living. We got the family discount because she thought the idea was so dang adorable,” his voice pitches to mock the mystery woman, and it makes you tearily laugh some more. 

You look back down at the open locker, finger tracing over the opposite side from the photo. 

E. It’s engraved in cursive. As if you’d ever forget the initial of the boy in the photo - the boy in front of you. 

“You really had to choose the photo that made me look like a dork, didn’t you?” you softly tease under your breath, staring at the memory in unfiltered fondness. 

“Someone’s got to keep you humble,” he retorts. 

You ignore his comment, standing quickly and holding the necklace out to him, “Help me put it on?” 

He doesn’t hesitate to leap off the bed to your side, taking the chain gingerly before you turn and face your back to him. His movements are careful and deliberate as he brushes your hair off to the side, cold fingers skimming over your skin and sending shivers down your spine before he loops the necklace around the front of your chest. You can feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp for a few moments before finding success. 

“Aha! Perfect,” he claps as you spin around, grinning giddily at the weight that sits naturally between your collarbones. It gives you a sense of security, a sense of comfort, a sense of home. 

“Thank you, Eddie,” you earnestly say, voice crumbling with emotions as your smile shines and you lift a hand to pinch the necklace between two fingers. The locket is smooth as you rub over it, “I love it.” 

His face reflects your happiness right back before you suddenly throw yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He returns it immediately, squeezing you back just as strongly. You both melt into the hug, comfortable as you eventually beginning to just-barely-sway in the middle of Eddie’s room, chests pressed together as hearts beat in sync. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair before placing a chaste kiss on your temple. 

“Merry Christmas, Eds.” 

You finally pull away, both of you returning to your original positions on the bed. Gifts are scattered around you, mixing with candy and wrappers, as Eddie pulls up his stocking and begins to shake it upside down. 

“There’s not any more gifts, Eddie, you already opened them-” you cut yourself off, the smile that had your cheeks aching still fading when a piece of paper flutters from his stocking. 

Oh no. 

“No more gifts, you say?” he smirks in your direction, picking up the folded note, “What’s this, then?” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’d forgotten about that. When you’d been wrapping Eddie’s gifts the night before, Robin had joined you to keep you company. The two of you had broken into a few bottles of wine around the house when you had a bright idea (at least, at the time it seemed bright. Now, it was the dumbest idea you’d ever had. Ever.). Coupons for Eddie, ranging from redemption for kisses to redemption for more… explicit acts. To be fair, Robin had egged you on, knowing of your hopeless crush of two years on your best friend. You’d folded each ‘coupon’ and sealed them with kisses from red lipstick the two of you had dug out of your desk drawers. You’d chickened out when the buzz from the wine faded, and pulled all of the ridiculous notes out before properly filling the stocking with his actual gifts. 

Or at least, you thought you’d gotten all of the notes out. Clearly, you hadn’t. 

“Don’t open that!” you blurt out, lurching forward and attempting to snatch the paper from Eddie. It only makes his smirk grow, hand shooting out away from you, glancing wildly between you and the kiss-stained paper. 

“Now you’ve really got me curious,” he mocks, pulling a face at you as he brings the paper back to his face, beginning to unfold it. 

“No, Eddie, seriously, don’t read it. Please. It was so stupid, I- Robin and I were drinking, and I just…” you trail off in your explanation as he completely disregards you and his eyes trail over your scribbled words. 

You didn’t even know which one had been left behind. You could only hope it was one of the less vulgar ones. 

“Is this a joke?” he asks softly. You’re shocked - you’d expected merciless teasing. Not whatever look was currently in his eyes. 

“What?” you ask, trying to peer over to see what the paper said. Depending on which dumb coupon it was, your answer would change, “I- Sort of. Maybe. No. I don’t know.” 

You begin to wring your hands in your lap, waiting for him to respond. You felt so nauseated you considered escaping to the bathroom. Maybe you could die of embarrassment in the Munson men’s bathtub. 

But then you remember it’s the Munson men’s bathtub, and decide the better fate may lay here, Eddie glancing up at you with moving curiosity, eyebrows furrowed. 

Your cheeks burn crimson as you wish for the Earth to swallow you whole. 

“Yes or no? Is it a joke?” he asks again, a stern tone that manages to not come across angry. 

Your stomach and chest twist in sync, “No. It isn’t a joke.” 

Suddenly, Eddie is taking the note and thrusting it towards you, eyes blown wide and chest heaving. 

“Then I’d like to redeem it now, please.” 

You don’t realize it, but the room had started spinning the moment Eddie had read what was written down. It felt like a dream - a dream he’d indulged in with no hopes of it ever coming true for an embarrassingly long amount of time now. 

Your hands shake as you reach out to take the note from him, and you look down to see just how much drunk you had screwed you over in this moment. 

In your messy handwriting, it reads: Coupon for Eddie Munson - good for one (1) kiss. To be redeemed at Eddie’s discretion. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn't a vulgar one, before the reality of what Eddie had just requested hits you.  

“Did you just- did you just say you want to redeem it now?” 

Eddie nods, a determined look crossing his face, “Yes, please.” 

You both stare at each other for a moment, letting the emotions in the air sink in. It takes a moment before you both break out into withheld, shy smiles. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Before you can overthink it, you’re both leaning forward, Eddie’s hands cupping your cheeks as his lips meet yours tenderly. It’s just a peck, nothing more, but it sends your heart into cardiac arrest. You can still taste the jolly ranchers on his lips, and he tastes the sweet mint of the candy cane on yours. 

You both pull back slightly, his hands not leaving your face, knees pressing together. Your eyes had fluttered close, and you don’t have the guts to open them quite yet and face the consequences of what had just happened between the two of you. 

“I like you,” you admit quietly, your entire body tensing as you await rejection.

It doesn’t come. Instead, you’re met with the sound of Eddie’s gentle voice, “I like you, too.” 

Your eyes finally spring open to already find him staring at you with adoration. “You do?” 

“Of course I do, sweetheart. I let you touch my first sweetheart. I only give that privilege to the prettiest of girls,” he laughs, eyes flickering to your lips but still keeping his distance. 

“You’ve only let me have that privilege.” 

“Exactly.” 

He finally closes the distance again, lips slotting against yours as if they’re meant to be. Something clicks in the Universe, something that says that this is right and meant to happen. Two years of silent and hopeless pining, only to find out both your feelings were returned. It leaves the two of you delirious as you both deepen the kiss. Somehow, Eddie ends up scooting up his bed until his back meets the wall where his headboard would be if he had one, you straddling his lap. It’s all still so innocent; just the two of you, soft and sickly sweet kisses as you hold one another as if you expect the other to vanish. 

“Merry Christmas, Eds,” you repeat your earlier statement and reach up to his gifted locket on instinct now. It feels right. You and him this close, you and him kissing, the photo of you resting against your chest where it belongs. 

“Best Christmas ever,” he chuckles before he captures you in another kiss. 

He’s right. It’s safe to say the two of you struggle to ever top that Christmas. You make it a running joke to always include coupons in his stocking from that year on. Each year, the coupons get better, sometimes raunchy and sometimes just downright adorable. 

Good for one cuddle. 

Good for one blowjob (don’t waste it).

Good for one surprise date night. 

They’re always fairly clever, and each year, he thinks you get closer to topping that first note. 

But it’s not until years down the road, when the two of you sit across from each other in your now shared living room, in some big city you now call home, that he knows that he had finally topped that year. The look on your face when you dig into the bottom of your stocking, finding the small box that contains the diamond ring he’d been saving up for ever since that first kiss, tells him everything he needs to know. 

It’s still pretty nice when he hears you squeal yes out loud, though.

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Now it's your turn :))

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

orchid ⇢ Oh gosh, I love sooooo many songs. A song I consider to be perfect... idk. I'll have to say Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey because it's my current obsession lol.

cactus ⇢ The Philosophy of Love. It's so cool. The Biblical Philosophy of Desire and Knowledge, Plato's Theory of Love and Becoming, The Medieval/Arabian concept of Courtly Love. They are all sooooo cool and sooooo fascinating and I love them all dearly.

bamboo ⇢ I go to school at home so I never really leave. And when I do leave to go somewhere on the weekend or such, I take a shower when I come home.

abelia ⇢ Not really, aside from this sterling silver cross necklace I got for my birthday last year. It's really cool and I love it hehehe

daffodil ⇢ So I have 3, all sisters. I don't really think i'm that similar to my older sister. Aside from sharing the same father, we're pretty different. With my two younger sisters, I look like the older of the two, however I'm nicer like the younger one.

mahonia ⇢ I try to take inspiration from literally everything. So... anything you can imagine lol. Whenever inspriation hits me I just start talking out loud. Usually it becomes a line for a poem. And i just recite that line out loud over and over until i get more lines. And then repeat. Usually i end up with a couple stanzas, constantly editing and revising in my mind the entire time until it's perfect. Or, near perfect as it can get.

chia ⇢ Me and my baby sister (she's 8 but always the baby) will constantly recite Benedick and Beatrice's lines to each other. Especially their first conversation in the play. Much Ado About Nothing is soooooo good loll. And then with @jordie-is-definitely-sane, we have incest is wincest lol. Because I love traumatizing her hehehe

sage ⇢ haha. I can't choose either. How could anyone??? I'm an aspiring actor, poet, and author, so obviously my favorites are theatre, poetry and prose fiction. But also music, paintings, sculpting, dance, et cetera all have such splendid things to offer as well. And i would love to learn how to do them all! They're all art and they all touch somewhere hands can't: into the deepest most inner part of your being. How one can say which is individually more touching? I can't fathom.

edelweiss ⇢ It's just my name + is definitely sane. Which is definitely a lie lol. My older one's were a lot more interesting but because of that i also constantly changed them lol. This one's more basic, but i'm never changing it

camellia ⇢ I'm not sure. I was happier as a kid, I used to run around more and talk more and I had a lot more friends irl. Now? I don't really know how to hold a conversation (T-T), I definitely talk less (not because i have less to say tho lol. Trust me I could talk for hours and I do when i'm alone), I definitely don't run around as much. Tho i'm not as sad about that last one. I have started dancing in the rain again like I used to so that's good :). I still read and write, in fact I do both of those even more then when i was younger. I still find beauty in everything. I still have an incredibly idealized view of nature and childhood. I still have a deep sense of needing to be myself (who that is? idk. but i need to find it) I think deep down I'm the same person. Just, kind of mellowed. I can't think of childhood and growing up without think of Trenton Lee Stewart's Riddle of Ages; he says that he doesn’t believe we become different people as we age. No, he says he believes that we become more people. We’re still the kids we were, but we’re also the people who’ve lived all the different ages since that time. And I think that's a beautiful sentiment.

jasmine ⇢ No. Absolutely not. If I loved it, im going to watch/reread it a thousand more times.

ivy ⇢ Body language, eyes, mouth, tone, the language they use (are they talking differently then usual), hands, etc.

chamomile ⇢ Books, chocolates, sweaters/hoodies, necklaces and bracelets (i love expensive shiny stuff but also that homey handmade stuff. I eat it up), MONEY$$$$$ lol. But like seriously.

aloe vera ⇢ I just want to know and be known. Which, though it sounds really mundane to others, I think is actually one of the most special, transcendental and divine things one can do in life (can you tell I've been studying the philosophy of love lol?). I genuinely believe in the Avicenna's concept of the ennobling power of love. With all of my heart.

palm tree ⇢ I mean... I can't really think of one? I love the Percy Jackson series and I love Luke so, i guess him? I have strong thoughts about him (bbg hates the West so much but is such a western tragic hero lol), he's so fascinating as a character and even moreso as a concept lol

nutmeg ⇢ My rooms pretty basic so no lol.

papyrus ⇢ I don't have one T-T. So i just picked a random song: ICU by Coco Jones. I associate it with @mera-mann-kehne-laga. No context.

taro ⇢ I'd probably tell them that I'm writing poetry, I'm working on 2 books, and that I scored a 28 on the ACT. I'm very bad at conversation so I probably just let them talk and listen to them, ask them questions to prod them, etc.

Thank you for the ask @memory-the-unconscious <333

[tatertotcosmonaut]

In light of the ask you send me a few days ago, I wanted to ask your opinion on takes like this I've been seeing around. Like people saying ch 261 is exceptionally revolting and dark, in particular for a shonen and compared to anything else we've seen in jjk. I mean it is revolting, it's supposed to be exactly that, it's a big change in Yuuta's character, but the pearl-clutching of some people seems a little too much in my opinion. They have their right to be disgusted by it, but I don't see this being such a no-go for shonen. For WSJ maybe, although they have Chainsaw Man under their wing. But for example in Attack on Titan the mc tries to commit genocide and Dai Dark has the mc skinning kids alive and selling corpses. It's not such a rare thing or as boundary breaking as they make it out to be. Sure, not every story does this, but generally most shonen magazines seem fine with it (I mean they did publish it). The "think of the children" attitude seems a bit much here, not to mention that WSJ like many other shonen magazines isn't just read by kids/teenagers.

Ah yeah I saw this thread on Twitter but I did not fully read it. If OP had stopped before that last tweet I would have just nodded my head and agreed (except for them saying “it crossed some lines”).

Challenging social taboos or purposefully taking advantage of social taboos (such as filial piety and the sacred nature of dead bodies) is something used a lot in manga, usually to show a lack of morality or moral degradation, a kind of “this is how this fictional society operates, it’s not a nice place.” Sukuna is an example of this, he’s full of behavior that, at the time of the Heian Era, were complete social taboos (and still are).

I went back and read the thread, I read the tweets they gave in example of how some in the Japanese side of the fandom are feeling about this chapter, and even some Japanese people have QRTed their thoughts. I can’t fault them for feeling that way, although a sense of sacredness over the dead isn’t as beat into us in the west, it is still very much a thing or superstition, especially in minority communities (I’m black creole, we have huge superstitions about treating the dead with respect so they don’t come back to haunt us or get revenge). But I feel like it’s still pearl clutching that is unnecessary- the disgust is very much the point.

I also feel like the “think of the children” thing is odd. Beyond just the examples you gave, shonen manga is rife with sexual jokes, pervert tropes, busty women, and graphic violence that would’ve made my mom probably ban manga from the house completely if she caught me reading it when I was in middle school lol (she actually did attempt to bar me from watching anime though). It’s just weird that after all the things JJK has depicted, THIS is the boundary that can’t be crossed.

Again, I don’t want to come off as some westerner telling others to “not be so offended”, I understand their feelings. But at the same time, the offense was the point.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for kind of getting a guy kicked our of our college’s theatre program?

i (20ftm) have been doing theatre all my life, including at my local community college where i’m an art student. i’m openly trans and don’t pass particularly well, but i have a really good voice, so i’m usually able to swing pretty good roles.

last fall i played mr. green in our production of clue: the musical. mr. green is a very masculine role. there was a guy(21M) in our ensemble, who i’ll call A, who regularly said some pretty off-color stuff to me. he made several mocking comments about how i needed to wear a prosthetic beard for my costume instead of being able to grow my own, frequently pointed out how i always have to take the high harmony, and made a joke that it was misogynistic for someone to assume i don’t like sports (context: that person was saying i don’t like sports— which is true— cause i’m a thespian and artist. A was implying that i was a woman and so it would be sexist to assume i didn’t like sports).

all of those comments combined with the usual stress of shows really damaged my mental health during our run, to the point of having a panic attack backstage halfway through act 1 one night. our costume designer overheard a couple of these incidents and saw how it affected me, and spoke to the director about it. the director later pulled me aside and asked how i thought this should be dealt with. i told her that i didn’t know what the protocol in this kind of situation was, but that she should think about how A would handle being in our next show, RENT. i said that someone who has that kind of attitude towards me just going about my business might not be mature enough to be a part of a show that deals with such heavy queer themes. she agreed with me and said he wouldn’t be invited back to audition for rent, and he hasn’t auditioned for any other shows since.

the thing is, i really don’t think A was being malicious at all in his comments. i think he thought it was light-hearted ribbing and didn’t realize he was crossing the line. i had a conversation with him after clue closed and he had been talked to by our director, and he seemed genuinely apologetic and willing to learn from his mistakes. i don’t think he meant his comments to be as hurtful as they were, he was just uneducated and apparently unexposed to trans people.

on the other hand, he was also not a good actor at all, and an even worse singer/dancer lol. A is still a film student at our college (which is very closely connected to the theatre department), so i know that he’s still involved there (mostly directing, i’m pretty sure)

tl;dr: a guy i was in a musical with made some transphobic comments to me, probably without even realizing it, and he’s since been kind of shunned out of our college’s theatre program. aita?

What are these acronyms?

[yonpote]

also some ppl asked me abt what i was talking about w like. SOME fans' perceptions toward dnp's early relationship. giant nonsense under cut :3

essentially it was about like, i guess we have an idea in our heads about what a parasocial relationship between a celebrity and a fan looks like right. and there can be issues there when boundaries are crossed, particularly when the celebrity is the one to cross that boundary without acknowledging the inherent power dynamic that they hold. this is still an issue that can happen with youtubers to this day ESPECIALLY because the line between creator and fan is so blurred.

when we hear about how dan and phil's relationship started out, from the current perspective we have towards parasocial youtube relationships, it can look a lot like that power dynamic. i mean for the most part, its something that's joked about, but specifically from the view of a "crazy fan". dan is phil trash, hes the ultimate phillie, he's the parasocial fan who won, i mean even HE joked about it back in the day (in a much edgier way) with his video about befriending internet stars by doing all these horrible things.

but it's important to remember what youtube was like in 2009, and what youtube culture specifically in the UK was like in 2009. those old halloween gathering vlogs and old sitc vlogs are all still up on youtube, and you can see it really was just. 50 nerds standing in a field huddled around doing whatever. the only thing i could compare it to in my personal life was going to facebook group cosplay meetups in washington square park in nyc, just a bunch of nerds wearing horns in a park and then going to get mcdonalds afterwards lol.

a youtuber wasnt even a real thing at this point in time. there was no money to be made really, just internet clout. cant remember who said this in a call recently, but someone made this comparison: dan and phil meeting each other was less like a modern day youtuber meeting a fan and more like a tumblr user with several thousand followers meeting a tumblr user with a few hundred followers. like in terms of a dynamic, sure phil was a few years older and had some internet clout, but that didnt have nearly as much weight back then as it does today. also fine lets talk about the age gap.

dan was 18 and phil was 22. a lot of (american) people talk about this and are like "oop red flag!" and im american so i kinda get it. especially when you know about how college dudes can and do prey on girls fresh out of high school like that. but a couple things to remember.

there are different standards for age differences in relationships everywhere around the world and we cant just view everything from the one mindset we know, and in terms of mental differences, 18 really isnt that different from 22 (frontal lobe aint done developing just yet yall)

they are two queer guys. and im not saying whatever isnt possible but like its something to take into account that queer relationships are just not going to be in the same framework as het ones.

they are two neurodivergent guys. a common thing w neurodivergence is feeling like youre being left behind by peers.

alright lets focus on that last point shall we? think about it this way. dan had just finished [UK equivalent of high school SORRY FOR BEING AMERICAN] but he is taking a gap year. from what hes said and what we've seen of this time, it seems like his friends have gone off to uni and he was kind of alone and figuring out what he should even do. idk if he even decided on studying law yet by the time he started talking to phil.

speaking of whom... phil had also just finished school, he finished his masters at uni! i posted a clip on here that i found really interesting from a (pre-dan) 2009 vlog of phil being open about like, feeling scared about what to do once school was over. he had to get a job and move out of his parents house and become a Real Man.

if you think about it, dan and phil were in much more similar boats than you might think at first glance. they were both extremely internet queerdos who were being forced to "grow up" and felt kind of isolated from their peers who seemed to have their shit together in comparison. there was a lot they could relate to even outside of common interests or anything like that.

its not a lie that there was some parasocial nature to their relationship at the start, but it's not nearly the same as other later cases of youtuber-fan relationships. but also! maybe im only saying all this cuz it worked out right? what abt [redacted] and [redacted]? two queer guys, similar ages to dnp, similar amounts of internet clout, but they didnt work out. so maybe it really is just bc its dan and phil specifically that it managed to work out.

[kanmom51]

Those JM and JK being ‘subtle’ moments - Part 6

Part 6 of maybe (?) more to come that is.

Or...

A page from JM and JK’s book of “How do we do the couple in the group without others noticing it (or so they thought)”.  

cr./to the owners of the media in this post.

Let’s start with Jikook selfies.

Innocent looking, not hot boyfies posing what so ever.

Super subtle... 🤣🤣

Why don’t we start with the piece de resistance? 

This was literally shown at the BTS exhibition.  The lighting.  The pose.  The angle of the camera. The sultry eyes, swollen lips, JK looks like he might not be wearing a top, JM’s upper body seems to be blacked out (there are photos circulating with JM bare chest but they seem to be an edited version of the actual photo that was shown at the exhibition, said photo with JM’s chest blacked out).

Nothing sus what so ever.  

Ok then...

And this one...Bon Voyage Hawaii.  The night they slept in their own room together, after JK ‘lost’ the game they were playing not on purpose at all (wink wink).  No, seriously guys, he’s absolute shit at that game, he didn’t lose on purpose, and that definitely wasn’t a happy dance he was dancing there after not losing the game on purpose...

This is the only documentation of them in that room.  No cameras entered that room (other than their own).  And if they did, we definitley did not get to see any of the footage (unlike our footage from their ITS night escapades).

Let’s round up this part (the selfies) with a not at all bf selfie coming off their Tokyo trip.

Moving on... to other very subtle, not “I have bf privileges at all”, moments...

Like these ones here...

Where’s your hands at Mr. Jeon?  Where you going with those hands of yours, eh?  

And once again staff member’s back to the rescue...

Everything that followed in that moment was definitely not boyfriendie either.  Not JM’s reaction, nor JK’s scolding.  Nope.

And if hands is what we’re talking about, what is it you are doing with your hand Mr. Park?  Not to mention that insistent JK claiming what’s his, no matter the cost (in this case a hit to the privates).

Ok, so here they were definitely caught off guard.  JM’s reaction was smooth like butter.  It’s JK, same JK that was caught just leaning into JM staring up at him.  Same JK that 'walked away’ from the whole thing stress written all over his face while hyperventilating.  

Yes, it looks like a pretty intimate moment.  JK looking up at JM, not the camera.  But his reaction, that panic you can see on his face...

JK being real subtle teasing his boyfriend.  Cause man, boy was sucking on that corn ice cream, like his life depended on it.

All while:

But JM, he got this:

Run editors: “Such a jokester”...

Ok, and what joke is that exactly?  You know, the not gay one, that is.

Now to the special relationship between JK and JM’s butt.  

We have the stares.

And we have the smacks.

Not the first or last time we talk about this, but you see, there are those very special moments where you look and go: “well, that’s REALLY too much”.  Even for the butt loving JK, who will hit any butt (well of the people he knows, loves and that won’t have him charged for sexual harassment, that is).  JM does have a very special affiliation with JM’s back side, and I have spoken many a times about it, with MULTIPLE examples, lol.

But, pun intended, these few examples are JK kind of crossing a line between what can be perceived as a friendly butt tap and a whatever you wanna call what he was doing, lol.  

Oh, and do I have to talk about JM’s reactions too?

Shall we start?

And side note: I’m not gonna describe each and every one of these, mainly because they are beyond description, lol.

The difference between the members reactions is priceless.  Hobi smiling and laughing, cause it’s real funny.  Is it though?  Cause Jin doesn’t seem to think it is, lol.

And then you have the others just ignoring it, like it ain’t happening in the room and on camera.

I also kind of wonder how these moments made it to the content.  I guess there is just so much you can cut...

You know what? 

Scratch that.  It’s not suspicious at all.  Super subtle.  You see, JK, he missed out on his boxing workout on those days, and what better boxing bag than JM’s ass(et)?  See?  Super innocent.

But then, what do we call this?

Or this, for that matter?  Cause believe you me, I’ve been racking my brains to find a logical, or even semi-logical explanation for this one, and even my criminal mind has not yet found a way to explain this one off.

As I was about to wrap it up this moment just revealed itself, and although I have already posted it in my Coway clip post, I couldn’t pass the opportunity, not with this JK supposedly being ‘subtle’ post, right?

This man, a one Mr. Jeon Jungkook, has mastered the art of finding his way to JM’s side.  Near or far, no obstacle will stand in his way, not even a leader or a very scary Suga.  In this case, at the sight of a walking away Mr. Park Jimin.  He notices and speeds into action.  Road Runner is no match for a one Mr. Jeon Jungkook.  Not with a Park Jimin in sight.

To be continued?  You guys tell me.

But I do need your help.  Send me moments and ideas you would like to see in this series of posts.  You can leave them in the comments or DM me.

[devotioncrater]

Do you think the writers were originally gonna make Ted bi but chickened out? Literally what was up with the bi-angles around Ted's head? Was it bait? Or was it just a queer easter egg or subtle nod to Colin and Trent's conversation earlier?

the past week i have been wondering this, too. and tbh. i think the more i settle into the ending we were given (while trying to let go of the What Would've Been endings in my head) the more i think the writers did make ted bisexual. they didn't chicken out, either.

here's why:

i think if the bi triangles were the only queer imagery/reference with ted throughout the show, then, yes, they would've been a nod to the earlier colin+trent conversation. because it would've been standalone. there's no other basis for it, no other throughline attached, no reason for viewers to go "HOLY SHIT" when that symbol pops up in ted's epiphany. the triangle would've been meaningless to ted's character outside of the Total Football Boxes analogy, while narratively threading colin's queer arc to others in Richmond.

but no, that's not the case. the bi triangles were not the only queer thing tied to ted.

there have been multiple allusions to queer culture throughout the show in relation to him. freddy mercury, oscar wilde, walt whitman, dolly parton, shania twain, "be curious not judgemental", wizard of oz, etc. they're never explicitly expressed to be queer, though, not like the triangle symbol was thanks to the trent+colin conversation.

more overt are ted's comments on men's physiques. "muscular thighs caked in mud" and "you're strong"/"you're tall" and every other word he says about pep guardiola. there's a short scene in s2 where he's losing it over nate looking good in a suit. in fact, there are so many of these Seemingly Harmless Appreciation Of The Male Form Moments sprinkled throughout that it's time-consuming to compile a complete list. it's such a contrast to how he expresses his interest in women because with women he's not as outright -- for lack of a better word -- horny.

he also seeks out emotional intimacy with other men. "honey" "sweetie" "babe" are all terms of endearment he hands out freely. which is! good! healthy! fuck toxic masculinity! i only point this out because he begins doing so directly as a result of michelle divorcing him and it's his way of seeking comfort for something he'd otherwise not get.

this all ties into his conditioned sexuality. the social programming he would've grown up with in the Midwest during the '80s-'90s. traditional values type beat.

in regards to women, the traditional culture is: treat women with respect, don't make inappropriate comments about them, sex is an act reserved for a relationship (last point is alluded to when he confesses he hasn't ever had a one-night-stand before sassy).

in regards to men, the traditional culture is: don't be gay lol

but ted grew up with sports culture, too. and men, while in a Sports Culture Environment (gym/pitch/locker room/etc), are more physical with one another and more complimentary of one another's bodies because sports culture gives them a pass to do so. a dude can be as horny as he wants and say shit like "muscular thighs caked in mud" or slap a teammate's ass after a score, and it's accepted (provided he's tight with his teammates like that). it's an easy, innocuous outlet for gay desires which may be otherwise repressed or hidden (think of colin's "i'll have sex with zava" or "he's mine" jokes).

granted, in sports culture there are lines that aren't supposed to be crossed. kissing other men or dating other men, for starters. sports culture is notoriously homophobic and tends to treat gayness similar to how Traditional America treats women's sex & sexuality: hypersexualized by acting displays of it, but with a very strong undercurrent of shame, intolerance, and This Is Wrong when confronted by the real thing.

we know ted to be a Represser. he represses his anger, he represses his father, he represses anything that might Disturb The Peace or Rock The Boat. while he's making progress with this in season 3, there are still instances where rebecca calls for "Oklahoma" to get ted to actually face his feelings/truths.

worth noting here that it takes way more than a year of therapy to let go of that defense mechanism. especially in ted's case, since it's been in use for over 25 years.

so if we combine these three things: ted's cultural upbringing, his penchant for repression, and the way he interacts with other men, it is not a far reach to come to the conclusion that he's deep in the bisexual closet.

he uses sports as a metaphorical bridge to vocalize his desires for other men, physical and emotional. something he can explain away as being part of normal team culture. but we get roy's homophobic dog looks in s3 and beard's "eehhh" in s1 to let us know that this -- praises about men's bodies and terms of endearment usages, respectively -- isn't a part of normal team culture. this is just ted.

there's also something to be said about the way ted looks at trent when no one else can see -- not even trent. most notably it occurs during their alone scenes in s3 ep2 and s3 ep12. the look is affectionate, open, and fond. the exact same heart eyes trent's been giving him all season, unabashed, in front of everyone.

the juxtaposition is clear here: trent is an openly gay man, therefore his adorations are made known to others. ted is a closeted bisexual man, therefore his adorations are not made known to anyone.

all this to say, anon, that i personally believe ted's written as a closeted bisexual.

[ingo-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

Happy 2000-- er... 2400 followers! I suppose this is what I get for overestimating how long it would take me to do two full bodies and 14 busts which I wound up cropping anyway lol.

Bonus commentary under the cut!

Link to the version with no commentary (x)

So first off, this was a considerable challenge for me since I don't normally draw in an anime style, and I think that shows. There were a lot of wonky proportions that I ended up having to go back and sort of fix in post. Irida, Rei, and Akari were especially bad-- my own sister told me that Rei looked like "a cross between a Victorian orphan and a frog". I decided to redraw all three of them, but since I drew them on a smaller canvas, I think it messed with the resolution a little when I shrank them down. I'm not sure anyone would notice if they weren't looking for it, but I've been staring at this for so long that I can't unsee it.

Next was the brilliant decision to put Emmet, Elesa, and Drayden on a light background. They initially faded right in, so I went back over some of the outlines to make them more readable; I had also tried putting the whole Unova set on a darker background, but found that it drew too much attention and unbalanced the piece.

On to the good things!

I adore how Melli and Zisu turned out. I don't know what it was, but my art game was on point that day.

I also had a lot of fun trying out different motifs. I knew from the outset that I wanted to play around with the duality of black/white, the duality of past/future, and the idea of making the whole disk resemble a PokéBall. The center design had me stumped for a while; I had initially used screenshots of the Highlands and Gear Station as placeholders during my planning stage, but around halfway through I decided that would be too busy and changed it to a simple railway track design instead. Then I decided I didn't like that either, and at the last minute I went back to a simplified version of my original concept. I think the stylized Coronet mountain range and subway train work nicely.

Other trivia:

During my planning phase, I used everyone's official art as placeholders-- except for Zisu, who for some reason I couldn't find any for. I used a screenshot for her placeholder, and referenced her TCG card for the final drawing.

Emmet being the only character drawn from a head on angle was deliberate. I wanted to subtly highlight his importance while still being able to place a key Pokémon in the center of both groups.

I drew all of my initial sketches on paper, lined and colored in Clip Studio, and compiled/edited everything in GIMP. I am a chaos gremlin and I will not apologize.

The reason I settled on a Station of Awakening as a follower celebration is threefold: The first is that I was hanging out with some good friends, and we wound up playing Melody of Memory. I forget exactly how it came up, but it was definitely a joke at the time as I do recall saying that it would take me forever... which it did, lol. The second reason is that I later realized that my first post on the blog (after the original "Ingo shouldn't be in old timey Hisui" (x) post) was Kingdom Hearts themed (x). The circle of stupidity is complete! And finally, I'm old enough to remember when making one of these for your blorbo was The Big Fandom Thing ™ that everyone did, and I wanted to indulge in a bit of nostalgia.