#and sometimes it hurts your head and ears and you get irritated bc u need to make a phone call and your bird makes it hard

[piplicious]

I am a firm believer in the fact that Pip should be bullied less because he is a sweet boy who was done no wrong but my friend hates him cuz he thinks hes annoying whats your take on this

hes not annoying™️ annoying he's just a little brit. he cant help it. he needs his healthy dose of tally ho to stay healthy

[dancingazaleas]

zeke yeager | my baby

this is bc of the new episode; i’ve known his backstory for a while but i didn’t come up with the idea until now LFMAOOAOA

anyways zeke supremacy

edit: this is so bad but enjoy LMFOAOAOA

warnings/notes: this is strictly platonic, takes place in canonverse during zeke’s childhood then to the beginning of season 4, cursing, mentions of mental abuse from family, murder, fem!reader(feel free to change if u want), yeah i’m unoriginal and the reader is the female titan before annie, angst,

when you first met zeke, zeke was extremely hesitant towards you.

grisha and dina had brought you into the house, a 17 year old girl who had soft and gentle eyes along with a nice smile. zeke had recognized you from the warrior program. you hadn’t inherited your titan just yet, you still had a few more years before they would allow it to be given to you. your predecessor gained the titan around your age, no one really knows why. zeke assumes that it must be a similar case with mr. ksaver and himself.

it shocked zeke in all honesty. they’re letting a warrior watch over him? one that isn’t in cahoots with his mother and father?

it wasn’t until grisha and dina pulled him into a different room and told him to get information on your views that he understood why. they wanted to use you, just like they wanted to use zeke. the worst of it all was that zeke knows you. he looks up to you, you graduated third out of all of your peers, you express love with the younger candidates such as zeke.

he felt like curling up in his bed and crying, he didn’t want you to babysit him just so his parents could use you.

but whenever the couple left, your arms encased him in warmth. you were hugging him tightly to you, fingernails surely digging into the fabric of his shirt. he felt his eyes widen whenever he felt a drop of a liquid on his shoulder. you were crying.

you pulled away and put a hand on his cheek, looking at him with endearment. zeke started crying at this, not once had dina touched him like this. not once had grisha looked at him like this.

“it’s okay, my boy,” you pull him close again, “i’m here.”

for the first time, zeke wasn’t cowering in a corner while he sobbed. he sobbed in the arms of a person, one that loved him dearly whether he knew it or not. you were even crying for him.

“my mother and father were apart of the same group,” you whispered as you stroked his hair, “they pushed me so far to my limits.”

“so, i did something i regret,” you sob, “something i hope you’re never forced to do.”

your whimper gave him chills, “i murdered my mother with a butcher knife and pinned the crime onto my father. all at the age of ten. to this day, i don’t know how i got away with it. maybe the police pitied me or found it excusable because of their affiliations with the group.”

“you hurt someone,” he sniffles, eyes widened in fear.

it gave you a frown, however you couldn’t blame him, “i did. it was mistake and i wish i had never done it. i just wished for my mother and father to love me, not to use me. after that, i found myself in the warrior program. maybe with this power, i could do some good. to show marley that us eldians are not devils.”

you rid him of his snot and tears with your shirt, “when i saw your father the time he came to observe you, i was immediately able to tell. your reaction had said it all. i can’t allow myself to witness you go through what i did without doing something. even if it’s small.”

he blinks at you after you softly kiss him on his forehead.

“now, is there anything you want to do?”

————

that afternoon, you played catch and volleyball with zeke. after that, you bought him whatever meal he wanted from the market and ate with him at the table. he told you about his stuffed monkey, who he named jerry, and his adventures.

he was sad when you had to leave, to which dina and grisha informed him you would come to their home sparingly. although he was delighted, he was also sad.

the next day, you doted on him during the short breaks between his training. patting his head, shaking him by his shoulders, and giving him a hug. when lunch came around, you pulled out a home cooked lunch for him as you sat on a bench. you would give him advice with training and his health while he ate.

he even shared some of his food with her.

after that was his time with ksaver. he didn’t see you during that time, obviously, but that didn’t mean you didn’t come during their conversations.

zeke was surprised to hear the praising from ksaver. ksaver said that you were a good figure for him and that you had a genuine heart. it made him feel at ease.

when the day was over, you walked zeke home and even ate dinner with him and his parents. it was a surprise that made you slightly bitter, but you accepted nonetheless.

they talked to you excitedly, asking about your duties as a warrior. you exceptionally avoided answering the questions, instead prodding at their own occupations and duties.

in the end, it felt like a game of tag. avoiding and then charging.

the night you were on your way to watch zeke, you felt your heart drop at the feral screeching of grisha and the reassurance of dina. you banged your fist against the door worriedly, sweat forming at your hairline.

the yelling stopped and you heard the patter of footsteps against the floor. dina looked flustered as she opened the door, face tear stained and eyebrows knitted up in concern.

“oh, (name), we don’t need you to watch over him anymore.”

“no, please, allow me,” you put on a fake smile that made her relax.

“you can take him out for a bit,” she, surprisingly, compromised and stepped aside to let you inside.

you bolted to zeke’s dark room. he was in a corner with his knees pushed against his chest and his hands covering his ears. his tears were making puddles on his knees as he stared blankly at the wall. you rush to him, pulling his head into your chest and picking him up.

“it’s alright,” you whispered, “you’ll be with me for a little bit.”

he didn’t respond but just wiped his eyes when he realized he would pass by his mom. you gave dina a brisk goodbye before leaving and taking him to a nearby park.

“it’s alright, my boy, it’s alright,” you coo and stroke his sweaty back.

for once, he felt okay.

————

the day zeke reported his parents, you held him in your arms. from then, he stayed with his grandparents and often found himself spending time with you after training when his schedule allowed it.

now, zeke is 16 and you’re 29. zeke was often seen with you or ksaver during his free time, now having the power of the best titan secured when ksaver’s term is up.

you mentor a girl named annie leonhardt, the next inheritor of the female titan. zeke occasionally sees you and annie catching some bugs in the grass during your mentoring. other days, you talk to her or just look at the sky. once at the beginning of the year, he once saw you take annie ice skating over a lake.

when he spends his time with you, you’re often doting on him and taking care of him. one time, you convinced the kids and some of the older soldiers to all play a game of baseball after your training was over.

you walked the extra mile for zeke no matter what. zeke was in trouble during a war and you swatted him into the trenches with your hand before attacking the enemy a year ago. whenever zeke would get hurt, you’d be his nurse.

if zeke’s being honest, you’re the maternal figure in his life. you act as if he’s your son, love him like he’s your son, and sometimes you even let it slip and call him that. sometimes zeke messes up and calls you mom.

in your eyes, he is your son.

in his eyes, you’re his mom.

but with being a parental figure came with fighting. it didn’t happen often, but whenever it did it was bad. zeke would become more irritable and angry while you would become reserved and melancholy.

when zeke was 14, you got into a fight so bad that it ended up getting you bedridden. you’d been sick from stress and it lasted for weeks until zeke swallowed his pride and apologized.

it almost made bertholdt, annie, reiner, porco, pieck, and marcel laugh at how domestic the two of you are when together. but as soon as you left zeke’s side, he would revert back to his quiet and receptive personality.

“zeke, my boy,” you call as you walk towards all the warrior candidates, “i’ve got your favorite.”

“thanks,” he hums when you stand beside him.

“i also brought some food for you all too. since we didn’t have training today, i thought you all could enjoy a nice break by having a picnic,” you clap your hands with a smile and they all feel like they’re seeing an angel.

they all agree and follow behind you when you start leading them towards a grassy field. you set the basket down and rummage through it, pulling out a nice thick blanket so the blades of the grass wouldn’t poke through.

“help me lay this out,” zeke sighs but obliges.

with zeke’s help, everyone is sitting on the blanket and eating and conversing. you listen quietly as you chew on the sandwich you made.

“miss (name),” pieck’s soft voice said beside you, “thank you for the picnic.”

you smile and shake your head, cheeks puffing out from the food that’s still in your mouth.

“can we do this again,” shyly asks reiner.

you gulp down your food and choke a bit, “y-yes! of course!”

you turn to zeke and speak quietly, “how was training yesterday?”

“it was fine. my calves are kind of sore though, it’s been a while since we did squats,” he shrugs and looks up, “ksaver let me pitch to him again.”

“i’m assuming it was at least enjoyable?”

“yeah...,” he trails off, “could you massage my calves for me in a little while?”

you pinch his cheek as you laugh, “of course! anything for you, my child.”

he chuckles while he swats at your hand, “quit that. it hurts.”

before you could pinch him even harder, porco’s loud voice interrupted.

“miss (name), are you zeke’s mom?”

his brother and annie hit him, scolding him in whispers.

“i-i’m so sorry miss (name)..! my brother means no harm,” marcel stutters nervously.

“it’s alright, i don’t mind,” zeke’s slightly flustered, “but no, i’m not zeke’s mother.”

“so why do you act so friendly?”

“i met zeke when i was 17 and he was just a little boy. i would watch him while his grandparents were away,” you lie like it’s nothing.

“i’ve always seen zeke as my little boy though even if i’m only 13 years older,” it has them all gaping and zeke staring at his food.

“why’d you become a warrior then,” reiner blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth in shame, “sorry... but with all due respect, you have a family you love and who love you... why would you let your life end so short?”

for just a second the smile on your face cracks into a frown as you feel your throat tighten up, “why are you asking such disrespectful questions? i understand you have no malicious intent, however it sounds as if you are seeing my decision as an ignorant one. are you calling me ignorant for becoming a warrior?”

zeke just looks away sadly. you never really had to put on this demanding ploy too much since no one dared to ask a question such as reiner did. not to mention that you had to in order to keep your position. reiner scrambles to pledge his loyalty to marley with your eyes burning holes into his head.

the others slightly cower in fear, they’d only ever heard that you could be like this from their mentors. but when they all looked in your, now, sad eyes, they relaxed.

“but, to answer your question,” you say reluctantly, “i was already selected to inherit the female titan.”

“now,” you cough and zeke knows it’s because you want to cry, “i need to go.”

they all help you get everything together, fidgeting anxious as they watch you walk back to the dorm. when you were far enough away, porco shouts at reiner for asking such questions and ruining the picnic. it ends up with annie joining in with the berating and marcel slapping porco upside the head.

zeke just leaves and follows you. he can’t be bothered to listen to them argue while you’re probably crying.

zeke knew it was about your 13 years coming to an end, meaning you wouldn’t be with him anymore. the first time he brought it up, you sobbed out apologies while holding his head to your chest. zeke knows not to bring it up again.

however, reiner didn’t. although he was slightly frustrated with reiner, he understood that he meant no harm to you. sometimes reiner just doesn’t think before he speaks.

zeke finds you with your head in your hands as you cry on your bed. the creaking of the door opening has you looking up and making eye contact and your eyes fill up with tears. zeke shut the door behind him and sat next to you after you pat the spot beside you.

zeke knows what’s going to happen, but allows it anyways because it puts you both at ease.

you cradle his head to your chest, stroking his hair with one hand and his back with another. zeke feels himself starting to cry when you cry out apologies and exclamations of love.

“zeke, my boy, i love you,” you whimper, “i’m so sorry i cannot be by your side until i grow old.”

zeke’s fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt and let’s out a broken sob.

“you’re the light of my life, zeke,” you whisper, “my beautiful boy, my beautiful baby.”

his shoulders shake and he wanted to tell you to stop and to pull away. but he won’t.

“you’re the son i never had, zeke, did you know that,” you sob and squeeze him tight.

it has him wailing and holding you tight. though zeke knew this, you never said it out loud.

“my baby, my baby,” you croak, “i love you so much, zeke.”

“love you too,” he chokes out, muffled by your shirt.

“zeke, my boy, my son, my zeke.”

“please don’t leave me,” it makes you sob even louder.

“i’m so sorry, zeke, i’m so sorry.”

————

zeke couldn’t look in annie’s direction after your term ended and her’s started. even at 29 years of age, he still curls up in a ball and cries himself to sleep. he carries a photograph of the two of you, he remembers taking the picture on your 26th birthday.

back on marley, whenever you were brought up in conversations, reiner, porco, and pieck stared at him with sympathy.

after zeke’s arms grow back on the blimp, he pulls out the folded photograph from his pocket. he stares at your beaming smile.

“who’s the girl,” eren asks, ignoring how yelena looks at him fiercely, “when’d you get a girlfriend?”

zeke shakes his head, “not a girlfriend.”

“who is she then,” eren gestures with his hand, the clinking of the metal chains echoing in the small room on the blimp.

“my mother,” he murmurs while he hands it to eren.

“dina doesn’t look like that.”

“eren, did you ever see a memory of a woman being introduced as a babysitter?”

“now that it’s being mentioned, yea.”

“that’s her,” the memory has him chuckling, “she treated me like her son before she died.”

eren transfers his gaze to yelena, a silent request for her to give more information.

“(name) (last name) was the inheritor of the female titan before annie leonhardt. she inherited the titan a few months after she turned 17, her predecessor, flora, was unexpectedly injured during war and was not able to regenerate. although disorganized and unexpected, (name) managed to eat flora. she died at the age of 30 when annie ate her as a pure titan,” yelena elaborates hesitantly as zeke’s small smile fades, “she was often recognized for her kind personality and optimistic attitude.”

“i see,” he said.

“were you her beautiful boy,” eren taunts.

“yes. i was.”

he sounds sad while he folds it back up and puts it in his pocket.

maybe he could be the same to eren.

[denkisdurag]

todoroki, midoriya, bakugo x reader

summary : tiktok popularized memes that y'all quote !! (headcanon)

warnings: swearing, mention of sex

a/n: please request things in the comments or my askbox ! bc i mean ,, can u tell i'm running out of ideas 😔

---

shoto todoroki !

you to him - "y'all hear sum?"

todoroki can be a lil frustrating sometimes

so when he gets on your nerves

the silent treatment is an ideal way to go for you

so when he would try to talk to you again

you would just look at no one in particular and point behind you with your thumb

and say "y'all hear sum?"

you were saying it out of irritation but when y'all made up, you still said it, only now it was ironic

todoroki isn't a very vocal person anyway so it was appropriate no matter what

but you mostly said it when he calls you out on something

like when he says or suggests that you did something stupid or wrong

you would just awkwardly scratch your head with one finger and be like

"y'all hear sum?"

it would at least get a grin out of him

not that he would know how to admit or express it but he loved your goofiness wholeheartedly

him to you - "if two plus two is four..."

todoroki is not a meme kind of person

but he would be ceo of telling you what decisions you should make

he isn't controlling, he just naturally knows what the better path would be and wants to make sure you get the best result bc he loves u aw

that being said,

when you defy him and turn up upset

he knows what cheers you up

funny tingz !!

so when you fuck up

he tries to make it laughable

for example

you were training and doing pretty well

but then you missed the target horribly

like

it wasn't even close

dumb bitch

you slouched and frowned and todoroki walked up to you, completely straight, no body language at all

"[name]."

"huh?"

"if two plus two is four." he starts, putting his hands together flat and briefly covering his mouth with his index fingers

"and five plus five is ten." he starts turning toward the target

"what the hell is this?" he gestures his hands out to your failed aim

my baby don't curse like that

you giggle and shove his upper arm

he made u smile ! mission accomplished !

he subtly grinned and went back to his own target

and it didn't matter how many times or how badly you missed

because he was there to support you either way

fuck i'm getting soft moving on

izuku midoriya !

him to you - the debby ryan hair tuck

funnily enough, deku's meme isn't even verbal

but it's just as hilarious lmao

everytime you say something sweet

or like

fluster him

he just tilts his head down and makes awkward eye contact with you

tucking his green hair behind his ear

you've helped develop his humor

so he's still soft, just not as much

so he does it when you insult him too

of course, he knows you're just joking

so when you come for his neCk

he does it the exact same like

"you are so stupid, midoriya."

*debby ryan* "you really think so?"

he just does it out of habit at this point

you to him - "don't be shy!"

y'all know that deku is babie

and often second guesses himself

so this meme is like ,, a boost

but instead of saying "put some more", you say whatever applies

like

when you're training and he doesn't want to hurt you

"don't be shy! do your worst!!"

or when bakugo's been giving him a hard time

"don't be shy! kick his ass!!"

you know that he's capable

and he does too

but he just needs to hear it from you

you help him in that sense

and it's a bonus for him

bc he loves hearing you say it

it always gets a good laugh out of him

katsuki bakugo !

him to you - "...wait a damn minute."

let's admit it

ur a dumb bitch

just accept it

when his favorite nickname for you is dumbass 💕🥰🥵💍🧸🥴

but no actually, sometimes it's obvious that you aren't thinking

and you end up saying some really stupid things

so whenever you're talking too fast or just say something that he can't process

bakugo will just stare at you for a minute

and then mindlessly wave his hand around and say

"wait a damn minute"

and yes, he tries to say it with a ghetto accent and everything

but let's face it my boy would not be able to muster such a voice

so yeah

u may a dumb bitch

but ur his dumb bitch

and he loves having to care for you

he likes your vulnerability around him

so it's a win win :)

you to him - "yuhhh get into it!"

literally anytime he does a n y t h i n g

everytime he uses his quirk

"yuhhh get intooo ittt!!!"

he's ranting about midoriya and how he just wants to hurt him

"yuhhh get intooo ittt!!!"

tbh you probably said it during sex LMFAOOO

it gets to the point where you say it to everyone you know out of habit

it's like

your number one personality trait

it's kinda annoying after a while ngl

you and kiri and kami would make him just fucking combust from irritation

but you know

gang gang

bakugo kinda rages in silence bc he doesn't wanna hurt u

softie

but after a while, he says it with you and to you as well

it's a mutual catchphrase

when people see you two together, they just imagine "YUHHH GET INTO IT"

kinda funny lol

[minbirdie]

Hiii! Could you please do 10 and 40 with Chan? Thanks!💗

drabble game: #10 (enemies-to-lovers!au) + #40 (opposites attract) + 90’s radio dj au just bc i felt like it ^^

word count: 2.1k

warnings: strong language

a/n: i’m going to assume u meant bang chan since ur url is skz-themed!! but if i’m wrong i’m sorry :( thank u for being my first request ^^

[radio hearts] | b.ch

chan had always found it incredibly difficult to hold a grudge.

he was raised to never stay angry for too long, to always consider the point of view of other individuals before acting. when someone behaves in a way you don’t understand, his mother once told him, it’s probably because they are hurting. they are human, after all. and chan tried his very best to live by this mindset, always acting as the problem solver whenever tensions rose too high among his friends.

that was, of course, before he met you.

in the eyes of many, you were a background character, a person of few words with even fewer fucks to give. your hair was unkempt, your irises reflecting its wild nature whenever you spoke, and while yes, chan could admit that his tendency to favor dark clothing aligned with yours, that’s where all similarities between the two of you ended. you were untamable, untouchable, yet so indifferent to the world around you that sometimes just the sight of you made chan clench his jaw out of frustration. your attitude, your behavior, even your success—everything about you was an enigma to him.

it all began when you ruined what was going to be one of the best days of chan’s life, though not purposefully. that day, his lifelong dream had finally come true; he had miraculously landed a job at perhaps the most popular station in the area. what he only realized upon seeing you at the mic was that his dream of being a dj required a bit more experience and upward mobility, and unfortunately, chan had started at the bottom of the chain of command. this meant, of course, that chan had a few technical responsibilities but was mostly the errand boy, or your “bitch,” as you had so lovingly deemed his position.

from that day forward, everything about you irritated him. your blunt, sarcastic sense of humor typically struck a nerve, yet in a cruel twist of fate, it was your straightforward personality that made you so unique and popular on the air. you hardly sugar coated anything, and your choices in music reflected your lack of concern for what others may think. in all honesty, chan really couldn’t understand how you became so popular among listeners, since no one hardly gave you any attention in real life. you somehow managed to be both invisible yet successful, a feat that amazed and confused him.

“good morning,” he grumbled as he always did upon entering the recording studio, purposely avoiding eye contact with you. this particular morning, however, his hands were full with drinks from the local cafe. it was his turn to do the daily coffee run, and although he had been working at the station for a few month now and had everyone’s orders memorized as if they were his own, he was struggling to balance everything.

“need a hand?” you asked, but he merely scrunched up his face and shook his head vehemently. nevertheless, you stood up, reaching out to him. “here, let me help—“

“i got it.” he cut you off abruptly, setting the drinks down harshly on the table.

you raised your hands defensively and raised your eyebrows high on your forehead. “damn, okay,” you muttered before snatching your drink off the table and sitting back down in your chair.

typically, chan could hold his tongue. sometimes, however, he let his passive-aggressive tendencies get the better of him, and although occasionally you reciprocated with some harsh banter of your own, normally, you ignored his sour attitude with an ease that only further exasperated him. today appeared to be one of those days where an unspeakable something egged at chan, pecking at him from just underneath the surface of his skin.

“hey bang,” you called out, not even bothering to look up from the track list you were mapping out for your portion of today’s air time. “what do you think should go in this slot here?” you pointed at the list, tapping your pen against the blank space on the paper.

chan leaned back against the door frame, shoved his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans, and inhaled through his teeth. “well, i don’t really think it matters what i suggest. you’re just gonna do whatever you want, so…” he was muttering, almost through a pout, and he made sure to avert his eyes by staring down at his sneakers.

but you had definitely heard him, which was evident by the way you slammed your pen down on the table. “alright, that’s it.” you snapped, swirling around in your chair to stare him directly in the eye. “what’s your problem with me?”

chan swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the stack of cd’s piled up on a shelf beside you. “what do you mean?” he played dumb, hoping that you would drop it and he could somehow avoid getting fired.

he, of course, wasn’t that lucky. “what do i mean?” you repeated incredulously. “i think it’s pretty obvious what i mean.” you let out a shaky breath, and chan’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest as the realization struck him: he had genuinely hurt your feelings. “like, i know i give you shit sometimes, but goddamn, it’s like you hate me or something.” you ran a hand through your hair in an attempt to calm your nerves.

he shook his head vehemently, eyes wide and panicked. “no, no. i…i don’t hate you. it’s uhm…well, i just—“ unsatisfied with his stuttering, you stood, slowly making your way toward him. “i…i don’t know.” he admitted with a sigh. he still couldn’t bring himself look at you.

you trapped his body between yours and the door frame, and chan could feel your intense gaze burning a hole in his forehead. “alright then.” you stated simply before reaching out and closing the door behind him. “we’re not leaving until we figure this shit out. because, frankly, i’m tired of it.”

chan knew that he could probably slip out if he wanted to, but the look in your eye advised him against doing so. besides, as much as chan hated confrontation, he understood where your anger was coming from. “you’re right.” he admitted, though he still had trouble looking at your face as you stared at him. “i…owe you an explanation.”

he wet his lips, trying to allow his racing mind some time to think. “ah, how do i say this…?” he was quiet for a moment as he pilfered through the confusing tangle of emotions resting inside his chest. “i guess i’m just…” he drew out the last syllable before landing on the word, “jealous. i’m jealous, i think, because…uhm,” he huffed out a sigh, deciding to rip off the bandage entirely, “because you have the job i want.”

you knitted your eyebrows in confusion as you tilted your head only slightly to the side. “explain,” you muttered, your tone transforming from accusatory to one to something resembling understanding.

chan struggled to translate his feelings into words, especially when you looked at him like that—a soft gleam in your eye, wrinkles barely lining your forehead as you listened intently to whatever he was going to say next. he inhaled through his teeth, almost as if the confession was painful, before simply stating, “you’re…something else.”

at this thought, he couldn’t help but smile, partly because he was remembering with somewhat of a fondness the crazy tangents you would go on sometimes while on the air, the way that you would dance to the music you selected when you thought no one could see, how you always were the first one here in the morning and the last person to leave at night. he also smiled, in part, due to your own reaction to his statement; you tried hard to fight it, but there was a glint in your eye and a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “i’ve wanted…to be a dj since i was eight,” he smiled fondly, remembering the fascination he had with his father’s record collection. “when i first found out that someone could make money by playing their favorite songs, talking about music, stuff like that….wow, i was ecstatic.” he shook his head with a sigh.

“oh,” you replied, your face falling, “i see.” you nodded, looking down at your feet. “i…ruined your dream.” 

chan didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes betrayed his feelings. he neither confirmed nor denied your claim, instead continuing on to change the subject. “you’re really good at what you do.” he admits, running a hand through his dark locks in an attempt to steady his breathing. “and i think…i think that’s probably what frustrates me the most.”

you hummed in understanding, and chan noticed that your ears were tinted red with embarrassment. “well, uhm, thanks, i guess…” you mumbled, and chan couldn’t help the chuckle that your reaction pulled from him. “honestly, i’m really shit at what i do.” you smiled at yourself despite the harsh self-criticism. “like, i should probably care more—“

“the thing is,” chan interrupted, though not consciously, “i think you do care. you probably care more than i do. you just…have a funny way of showing it, i think.” your smile was dazzling, chan couldn’t help but think, as your face heated up from the compliments that kept pouring out of his mouth. once he started thinking this way, chan found it difficult to stop. “and your unique personality is really a strength for you, you know? you’re what makes this station, well, popular.” his expression could only be described as one of pure giddiness, absolutely adoring the shyness that his compliments brought out of you—you, the loud, independent, boisterous dj whom he had been secretly, jealously admiring for months.

and he would have said more, continued talking until his face turned blue, had it not been for your lips quickly catching his in a kiss without warning.

it was a short, fleeting kiss, clearly not something that was thought through, yet it perfectly conveyed the sense of something that had been pulsing through chan’s veins ever since he met you. just as he felt himself melting into the warmth and bliss your kiss provided, you pulled away with a gasp, your fingertips ghosting over your lips where chan’s had just been, as if you were shocked by your own actions. chan simply stood with his heart pounding in his ears and disbelief stilling his features.

“oh…oh fuck, i’m sorry,” your voice sounded like it would shatter like glass with the lightest touch as your wild, panicked eyes searched his. the longer chan stared at you, however, the more intensely he felt. your hands were still clutched around his shirt, probably a subconscious action that you would find embarrassing had you been aware of it, but chan didn’t want you to let go.

“don’t be,” he muttered breathlessly before pulling you back in for another deep kiss.

this time, chan could relish in your touch and pinpoint the specific sensations that made his heart beat so loudly he swore you could feel it, too. he cupped your cheeks gently, and he felt your grip on his t-shirt loosen as you relaxed into the kiss. your hands moved to wrap around his waist entirely, pulling him closer to you and causing him to hum against your lips.

he couldn’t stop his racing mind, in all its confusion and bliss, from wondering how you did it, how you acted without overthinking every possible outcome, how you managed to be so reckless with almost everything you did but in the best, most intriguing way possible. in part, he envied you and believed it to be a part of your vitalizing, sometimes infuriating, charm. 

chan pulled away only because he needed to catch his breath, but when he did, your smile made him wish he hadn’t.

now it was you who found it difficult to look into his shimmering eyes, opting instead to gaze down at your fingers as they nervously fiddled with the fabric of chan’s shirt. “you surprised me, bang. i honestly thought you were gonna call me a bitch, or quit, or something.”

chan couldn’t help but chuckle, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. “well, i mean, i have thought about it before.”

“hush. i’m trying to say something,” you laughed, shoving him playfully, and chan’s thumb lightly brushed against your cheekbone. “i…never thought that you would feel that way because, well, you’re so…” you stopped, crunching up your redding face out of pure embarrassment. “god, this is so cheesy…”

chan’s smile was absolutely radiant. “i like cheesy,” he teased.

“please, can we just…?” you inched closer to his face once more, and chan happily obliged to your unstated request, kissing you tenderly.

and even though chan didn’t realize it at first, he really had found his dream job because he got to work side by side with one of the most interesting, unique individuals he had ever known.

[evolsinner]

⊱┊24

days go by, another one comes across. however, today is that day, and by ‘that day’ i mean, can we all please have a drumroll, it’s fucking parent~teacher interviews! aka an interrogation under the guise of pleasantries. i thought if i didn’t think about it, it’d just fucking disappear, but hey no, it’s still here.

but that’s okay, you see my parents don’t know a thing about it. i shredded all the notices they’ve sent us and made sure to cut the line every time my sneaky ass school called home. so when it came to my last class for the day, which is english lit obviously, i was quite happy that i didn’t have to stay behind like some students.

the class is empty, it’s almost 4 sharp.

“it’s only interviews,” i try to ease mr killian’s nerves. “just tell them what they wanna hear ~ easy peasy.”

“i wish, but it doesn’t work like that, luv. you know,” he looks up from his paper and removes his reading glasses to rub his weary eyes, “believe it or not, but we hate this day just as much as you kids do.”

“really?” i’m shooked. “thought you teachers just loved taking your sweet as revenge on students on this devilish day. it’s practically reverse halloween where the educators aren’t in costume for the first time, huh.”

mr killian places his pen behind his ear, entertained. “‘reverse halloween’, aye?” he leans back on his chair, arms folded and an ankle~on~knee. “you’re too funny.”

“‘funny’?” i walk over to him, admiring the tantalising dark circles underneath his scintillating eyes. “yeah? and what else?”

he possessively pulls me in between his legs, squeezing my booty in fistfuls. “and sexy and fierce and delicious.”

“do you want a bj?”

“oh, and very fucking naughty too!”

“what you gonna do about it?”

“gee, you’re tempting me.”

“mhm,” i bite my lip.

“you are in serious need of punishment, little girl,” he flicks an eyebrow up. “slide down your panties and lean over my desk.”

my eyes open wide, “no.”

“pardon?”

“i mean, there’s no space on y~y~your desk,” i glance at it. “there’s those booklets, essays, midterms, finals, your laptop...”

“i’ll make space.”

“uh, umm,” i step back.

“nuh~uh,” he pulls me in again so that i’m standing with my thighs directly opposite his thingy. “slide ‘em down right in front of me.”

“that’s too close,” i squeak, going red.

“what difference does it make? you a step back or not, i’ll still see it. c’mon,” he feathers a finger down my bare thigh, “you can’t still be shy? i’ve seen every part of you, every inch of you. the hills, the slopes, the blemishes... want me to go on?”

ok, imma prove him wrong. i undo the button and zipper on my shorts, exposing the bright red lacy panties i got just for him.

“you were hiding those from me?” he points to them, sounding offended.

slowly, i rub my hand over the skimpy fabric, sticking a finger behind the elastic.

“such a tease,” sir leans back. “congratulations, darling, you’ve earned yourself 5 more spanks.”

the thought of him spanking me…

“want me to go easy on you?” he asks, and i see rare mercy dancing around in his eyes.

i nod, prolly a goner if i were dumb enough to take my chances with this guy.

“then touch yourself, sweetheart,” the mercy evaporates from his eyes completely. he just went from a saint to a sinner in a millisecond. “mhm,” he nods to my hesitant expression, “slide your hand through your panties and touch yourself for me. if you don’t moan my name whilst finger~fucking your cunt, i’ll give you the belt.”

heck no, i don’t want to get spanked with a belt! that’ll hurt so much more!! i’ve seen it on 50sog!

“y~you w~want me to m~masturbate for you?”

“did i stutter?”

no, but i did.

shocked at how strangely turned on i’m feeling, i slide my fingertips under the double thin lines of the red covered elastic bands. tell me, why did i wear this again? i inch my fingers down further, my breath hitching up and pelvic muscles contracting.

sir slides his hand into his pants and gently strokes his cock, scarring me with imaginary ciggy burns from the way he’s staring at me doing me. “hurry it up, little one, time is of the essence.”

3 knocks on the door and it swings open with a, “hello?”

mr killian speedily sits up.

and i step back right away, pulling my hand out and tugging my shirt over the open zipper. “mum?”

“roséah,” she squints, “what on earth... dear lord, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

i refuse to blink. i think i’m having something like a heart attack. “w~what do you mean?”

“well, for starters,” she struts up to me, “you didn’t tell me that today was parent~teacher interview night.”

i exhale deeply, relief has never felt this good.

“mr killian, i presume?” mum says, holding her hand out.

i quickly fix myself up behind her.

“please,” he smiles, shaking her hand, “call me isaac.”

why the fuck would mum come here without informing me about it?!?

“apologies for not booking in a time slot and barging in like this. had i known,” mum gives me an irritated look, “i would have been more prepared.”

“it’s no worries, mrs blackburn,” sir tries to downplay it. “i reckon i can squeeze you in before my first interview. so please,” he motions to the two seats preplaced in front of the desk, “have a seat.”

“christella will do just fine,” and she takes no time in making herself comfortable.

i roll my eyes, so fucking annoyed and anxious at the same time.

“if you don’t mind my saying so,” sir gracefully says, “but now i know where your beautiful daughter gets her beautiful looks from.”

mum titters, tucking invisible strands of hair behind her ear and straightening out her pencil skirt.

tf.

sir glances at me and it’s so provocative in nature that i can’t look away, hence he does it for me. “do we have a common friend that can get both of us acquainted with one another?” he causally asks my mother with a chuckle.

aren’t they supposed to be talking about me?

“i don’t suppose so, isn’t that a shame?” mum smiles.

“‘shame’ would be an understatement, stella…can i call you stella?”

“you can call me whatever you want, isaac.”

“ahem!!” eww. ew. “mum,” i shake my head at her like ‘did you forget you have a husband?’, “you might wanna..”

“oh, yes, of course! silly me. so do tell, isaac? how has my daughter been doing?”

“well, to be candour, i’m rather impressed at how dedicated rosé is on learning.”

“hm, is that so?” she gives me a suspicious glance.

“indeed,” mr killian sends me a secret wink.

“does she slack off? because you’d tell me if she did, right?” mum asks.

“mum,” i grumble, she’s so embarrassing sometimes.

mr killian chuckles, “you’d be the first to know, stella. fortunately, that isn’t the case. rosé has quite the eye for accomplishing her goals.”

i’m getting lost in him again...

“gets all her work done on time, doesn’t send inappropriate text messages in class,” he proceeds professionally, kinda cocky, “nor does she ever has to stay back late.”

all of which i do the opposite of, i give him a guilty grin.

mum looks rather very taken aback, considering how i am at home. “seems like she’s quite the student?”

“you’d be surprised by what goes on in these walls.”

that not so hidden half~smile sir gives me pauses my mum in her tracks with her next question. i look at her sudden stiffness and notice how she’s surveying mr killian intently, her eyes narrowed into slits. oh crap.

“ahem!” i shift in my seat quickly.

sir coughs and swiftly brings in another topic.

mum gradually returns to her usual manner.

that was close.

when they finally say their farewells, i feel relieved as a fucking kite flying high up in a blue cloudless sky. mum did a few more interviews before she finally decided to go home. mr killian had given her false hope and high expectations, so it was funny when my other teachers informed her that my grades were declining from b’s and c’s to d’s and e’s.

oops, my bad.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

it’s late, a major thunderstorm has hit and maxi being the scaredy~cat he is has crept into my room for the night. incoming call from isaac. i decline it. so he calls me again. and i decline it again. busy tryna shoot him a text which he keeps interrupting with phone calls.

daddy🔐 is my furry baby avoiding my calls?

tf he just called me??????

me im not avoiding ur calls jus ctrn cuz baby bro is sleeping in my bed thunder isnt his strong suit :/

daddy🔐 why am i jealous?

lol, seriously? i smile, rolling over to the edge of my bed.

daddy🔐 can’t stop thinking about you...

me jus stop its not dat hard

god, i suck at this.

daddy🔐 i really need to be fucking inside you right now!

uh, what the fuck do i text back?!

daddy🔐 would it be inappropriate of me to ask you what you are wearing since you’re with your kid brother?

haha.

me wow, ur quite the gentleman, arent ya ?

daddy🔐 i try my best.

feeling kinky, i silently remove my oversized graphic tee and take two pictures of myself. then i quickly pop my tee back on before curling up on the bed and hitting ‘send’.

daddy🔐 mmmm leopard panties and no bra, sexy. though i do wish you could move your arm out of the way so i could see my two girls?

no, my boobies are too small and i’m shy!

daddy🔐 such unspeakable things i could to your body right about now. would you like to know, baby?

i’m so tempted to text back ‘yes’, but that’d just get me too hot and bothered which is not a good idea when your lil brother is lying right next to you.

me behave (;

daddy🔐 how about we finish off what we started back in the classroom?

me we hv company rmbr ?

daddy🔐 right.

there’s a while with those 3 flashing dots before he texts back.

daddy🔐 considering we have an audience tonight, i’m willing to keep it pg. on the contrary, was nice talking to your mother today.

me were u flirting w her ?

daddy🔐 i don’t know. was i?

me u so were ! nd evry subtextual sentence u uttered !! she cud hv caught on yanno ?!

daddy🔐 that, i couldn’t help. the look on your face was hilarious. hers too.

i almost lol by just picturing my mum’s face, but i suppress it.

me jus bc u made me laugh dnt mean im not still mad !

daddy🔐 allow me to make it up to you?

me go on...

daddy🔐 there’s this soirée i’m holding with my crew for the long weekend. lakehouse, few beers, great view - thank kinda thing. i want you there.

me y do u want me der ? (;

daddy🔐 ‘cause i wanna fuck you hard on my mate’s couch whilst everyone else is out by the lake.

oh?

daddy🔐 and also because i want you to get to know my people more. (:

he used a smiley face! he never uses smiley faces!

me hmm, guess ill hv 2 think bout it

because i have to ask my mum first!!

daddy🔐 hope this helps?

he sends me a photo or two back, like it was a trade or something. but jesus christ, isaac killian! he was definitely not kidding about having me on his mind!

daddy🔐 don’t ponder too much. goodnight, love.

“rosé..?” maxi murmurs behind me, rolling around.

shit. i drop my phone in an instant and cringe for my luck. “yeah?”

“you’re taking all the blanket and i’m cold..”

“oh, right...” i exhale with relief, placing my phone on the bedside table. i turn around, shifting the blanket over him and putting my arms around him. phew.

i rest my eyes for a second when maxi is like, “what was that?”

“hm?” i smile as he snuggles between my arms.

“that big cucumber looking thing on your phone.”

i almost choke on my saliva. “t~t~that was...you’re dreaming, maxi. this is all nothing but a dream...” i add some whooo noise effect to make it more believable.

“no i am not!” he asserts.

“yes you are! now shut up or go back to your own room.”

thunder cracks intensely and he doesn’t say anything further. thank you, sweet jesus.

[sunnysidewrites]

Street musician!Woozi

Requested by anon: hello! May I please request a Jihoon scenario where he’s a street musician across the street from where you work? Can be angst or fluff, I’ll leave that up to you. Thank you!

here you go anon!!! i chose fluff bc i think ppl need a break from that zombie apocalypse hwiyoung au…. LMAO i hope it was fulfilling to read happy reading from your fav mom!!!

warnings: fluff, the kind where u wanna punch them :))) woozi is a lil shit but what’s new

You’re a waitress at this cozy little restaurant on a fairly busy street

So you have quite a number of customers coming in frequently and have a handful of regulars

The restaurant has picked up popularity as of recent and unfortunately you guys are a little understaffed

So you and just a few other employees are constantly on your toes running back and forth from order to order

It’s a literal workout sigh

And you’re always extremely exhausted and ready to KO after every shift

One day you’re feeling more irritable because of difficult customers and restlessness

You’re bundled up in your lil warm coat while the winter wind chills you down to the bone

“Just a little more until you reach home y/n” you muttered yourself and continued trudging home

When you got to the end of the street your ears perked at a melodious sound

A crowd was increasing by the second and you’re trying to push your way to the front to get a good view bc wOW MUSIC!!1!!

Perched on a bench was a guy and his trusty guitar don’t hurt soonyoung

His slender fingers were picking at the strings and he was so effortlessly hitting high notes

You could have sworn you saw a light shining down on him bc is he an angel

His guitar case is opened wide for people to toss in change

hOLY COW IT’S A LOT MORE THAN WHAT PERFORMERS USUALLY GET

the amount of money sitting in his case was probably just the amount of tips alone you receive in a day already

This guy is going places and you showed that when you threw in a $10 bill

He was busy concentrating on his singing and playing that he was closing his eyes

But right after you tossed in the bill he opened them and caught your gaze

He was starstruck for 0.00001 seconds but he had to quickly end the song

He got whistles and cheers from the gigantic audience but he was blUSHING AND SMILING RIP @ ME

You were also really happy and reenergized after hearing his soothing voice and you looked like :DDD while you clapped

His heart stopped

“Who is this cute girl i’m weak”

You continued walking down to your home right when he mustered up the courage to talk to you

His outstretched hand slowly went back down to his side

:((( he was only a second late sigh

He’s determined to play at that exact spot at the exact same time he did that night

He usually bounces to different areas but maybe he’ll make an exception ;););)

Over the next week or so you take notice of his extended stay in what you call “his little corner”

Not that you minded ofc

He always seems to gaze at you longer than he does at the rest of the crowd but you think you’re just imagining things and you’re getting your hopes up a little too much

He’s always singing cute love songs

Sometimes he would do heartbroken ballads or upbeat renditions

But it would always be related to love!!11!

Lovestruck woozi is a concept

When he finishes his latest cover, he forces himself to catch you before you’re headed off

As per usual you’re wrapping your scarf closer to yourself and start walking further down but he’s like wAIT

You turn around anD IT’S HIM!111! THE COOL STREET MUSICIAN!1!!

“Yes…?”

He’s like o crap i didn’t expect to get this far lMAO WHAt do i DO

“Thanks,,,, for coming,,,, i recognize you as a familiar face for the past few shows,,,,”

Ofc he has he’s been ogling you

You’re like oh!! Well you’re talented ofc i’ll watch!!

And he’s like oHMYGOSH CAN I HIDE

“ahah thank you” he’s blushing while hiding his smile behind his hand wHAT A PURE

You can’t help but notice he’s clearing his throat a little and you’re like hmm??

“Would you like a drink? You sound like you could use it”

He’s like oH WeLL that would be nice but don’t worry about me

“It’s fine1!1!!! I work down at the restaurant and we still have time before we close”

He’s like omg but u just got off work it’s o k a y

You’re like i aM GETTING YOU A DRINK COME WITH ME

Woozi: well isn’t she insistent

Woozi: i like it

And so you drag him back to the restaurant and your coworker is like y/n??? Aren’t you supposed to be at home????

You walk over to them and whisper

“Can you do me a favor and put a drink on the house for him??? He’s been playing out in the cold all week” and you muster your best puppy dog eyes

They’re like nOT THE PUPPY DOG EYES N O DO YOU WANT ME FIRED

“I’m telling our boss you broke the mug his mom gave him”

“:))) what drink would you like sir?? :)) it’s on the house :))) totally completely free of charge :)))”

“O h you don’t have to do that!!!”

“See y/n he says–”

You: “m u g.”

“I inSIST IT’S FREE SIR!!! :))) pLEASE!!! TAKE THE OFFER!!! :))))”

“O-oh okay,,,,, I’ll just have some warm tea,,,, thank you,,,,”

“I’ll be back shortly” and right before they leave they glare at you

You: :-) what’s wrong? :-) certainly not his mug right? :-)

You join him back at the booth and you’re trying to make some small talk by complimenting his performances

Despite how well known he is around the block he’s still a humble little bee get it instead of bumblebee

“Ah.. … .. i’m not that great … ….. ..”

“Wtf you got like $50+?????”

“What n O,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, $40”

Jesus christ woozi

You’re just laughing and shaking your head in disbelief like ok mr music prodigy

You both talk and get to know each other until closing time which is roughly 15 minutes

Your coworker kicks you out and you’re back out on the chilly night streets

“Well,,,, it was nice talking but i should,,,, really head home”

“Yeah i should head back too,,,,,, you’’ll still be here to watch tomorrow right?”

You’re like uH O F C I W I L L

And he’s like ahah ok just,,, checking,,, and he seems to be stalling as he does the smile hiding again pls protect this smol bean

So you linger there with him and it’s just like u have n o i de a what’s going on but it feels like you should also stay with him

You see him closing his eyes and taking a quick breath before exhaling and muttering “just do it woozi”

Before you have a n y time to register it he opens his eyes and kiSS E S YOUR CHEEK AND SCREAMS “ U- UH I’LL SEE YOU T O MORR O W B Y E” AND SCURRIES OFF

And yo U ARE SHOOKETH

It ended as fast as it happened and so you’re like ? ???? ?? what just happened

But you’re like i’m demanding answers tomorrow night

Tomorrow night rolls around and he’s out there in his little corner again

This time he’s like “ok yall today’s song will be ‘20’ by seventeen”

AND YOU’RE LIKE O M G I LOVE THIS SONG????????

He notices you in the crowd the second your face popped up and not once did his eyes leave yours

You’re a blushing mess throughout his song and you combusted 10 times

When he’s done you cheer the loudest and wait for everyone to disperse before engulfing him in a hug

“Is that a proposal” you say when you break away and look at him

He smiles thoughtfully and tugs your waist

“Only if you want it to be ;););)”

“wE A IN’T EVEN DA T IN G PLS”

And he kISSES YOU AGAIN BUT THIS TIME O N THE LI PZZ

And his hand is gently on the back of your neck

Oh my god yall im fucKEN SOFT

“I didn’t see you give me any change today”

“sHUT UP WAS THE KISS NOT GOOD ENOUGH i withdraw from being your s/o smh”

“wAIT NO I WAS KIDDIng!!11!! Kisses are perfectly acceptable payment!!!11”

Damn right they better be

“As they should be :)))” you say before pulling him back in aW YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE

And there begins a sweet relationship full of serenades and free drinks!!!

[castlehead]

[CAPARISON'D]

There is no judgment slightly more than kind Now left that wld apply to this suggestive thing

Artlessly done as it is, but like the Earth is artless, Myself the experience of the Earth I have, or

Rather, am able to communicate; sometimes Nothing more than that, and in those cases feel

I am but shavings of selfhood, not so held fully in A Physical Body, yet not even able to accurately

Imitate reality outside of my a priori orb: I always Fail to bring it back: example is one time I was

Supposed to buy pot for this trip to this dude I used To know's house in Martha's Vineyard but thought

Cops / Were throwing shade where I was even tho Probably like one patrol car had driven past me

Or whatever, somewhere on Columbus on the stoop Of this brownstone out of many -it was an affluent

Neighborhood, a few blocks from my house- and Anyway paranoia got to me before the dealer, whose

Name -which was really probably more like a nickname- Was 'Talon' -yo, man.. it's been so long I'd thought of

That. I remember: I ghosted into the / Better, darker Shade of pregnant shade my room had, the one I used

To hate and love at the same time, and which my irritated             Mother oft wld clean up for me, and which smelt of humiliation,

Like a group of people opening your door and immediately Stepping in dog vomit -I feel indifferent about it as I am older

Now, and it's been two years since I dropped The ball and fell out of a window- I mean / Chicken'd

      Out of getting the Pot.- The monotony is I almost Do get it, every time, stuffing it furiously

Into a fannypack i always lose, bc I must lose, it / Then End up having to purchase more fannypacks: o ugly futility: it is

                                        Like when my gf and I lost our wallets pretty  Sequentially, like, within the space of a week, the way

    We [both of us] lose our minds, certainly, every day: and the spirit of-- Reality? It goes and expires, the schmuck, from exposure in snowy

                 Caverns after my 9th goddamn Fannypack. / It hid so long Within the ear and don’t come out but

        As such, by its knotty refusals, tells me how meaning sounds: Now what’s the story here: these heroes, makars, tune

        Up me, leave me a lyric without an epyllion, an extended Sequence of spongy self-regard that grows in the heart of

These strange routes to find my wallet, yet much like         Exposure to cold climates, mayest I find where

Nestles this goon what who stole my griefy solemness

Took my schedule for my weeping: I must meet   My grief-quota, and pushing myself into my findings

I perform more experiments with beakers and shit   But in vain seem to leave my sanity figuratively burnt

In the corner, ignore her either bc I find her precious Or bc I am neglectful, and usually ignorant 

OF the long-time effect of loosening yr circadian Rhythm, which I guess would be apposite to The rhythm of when it was time to cry in public.

Finagling finesse, or robbing silence Of hours and hours / Of record.

Which one is worse? And are either Productive? And will Vaping give

Me early onset Dementia? I don't want to be A dull boy. I feel like buried beneath the concrete

Built of all great men Looms the rind of the thing,

The res' residue of Gd. That prays away inside all heroes

Like the precious goop inside a jelly Donut, a goop or honey / They seem

To acquire endlessly from caverns of perspective As sound the mechanical counting thuds of heart.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

Of all the spooky diameters these figures tell me To follow till the finish, / These podunk palings

Are the worst. Stretching up the road indeterminately            To someplace / Out of sight and that

The poet is not even sure is actually there. The thing you have done, the court of bees in

My head tell me, While you do not mind a response To this yet you tiptoe / Over that, puts pressure on

The work of a gaggle / Of random bros that can clone Themselves / Sifting into creation like wild atomic dust.

I hear this propounding from the court of bees, Crones lift up the light to me like strange furniture,

Double over under its [wait] weight and drop that Massive coffin of light into the local undrained swamp.

                              In that fabulous mire will yr body sleep; you will always               Harbor / In your chest that detailed yet subtle truth about you nobody

Knws about for certain, the thing you had no choice to Be, that blurs yr eyes, I speak of it you, saith the swarm.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

Honestly, write as speech of moment, yeh: Stuff about / The time passing, your thighmuscles

Clenching as you sit here realizing u clench Yr ass too, and then everything goes

Into this goofy rhythm of tearsdrops of moment And the same your toes, / Some anxiety hoping

To accelerate the past / From you and your palings. Surrounding you, as if to jump you for money-

-Flits the doom that could fit in like I didn't in Highschool; yes I became the cliché misfit as

The spirit’s lull in me, waiting for shitty misfit Carnage to end: I had to welcome it, it was

The life of me, it was either that or liberation From life-entire. Almost dozing off, the security

    Guard in my brain hears a rustling in the bushes. / Try                             To deck out these pithy voices in something

Nice and acceptable, a'saith, said The Bees, and Said the Bees, End up shaking no crown, / Nor did free myself

Of anything for nothing at all but what I did, a crime that Is, of being th the hellish flower flowering out my Lungs, into your basic realm with every breath,

As the voice of the speaker Of the pome seems undecided on who

Is actually speaking, me or you, I'd say The only thing to do is duel it out, poet

And the carnage in my hands, coming In frank whorls of feeling that efface

My sense of balance with its own glee Of shaky grip, which I trust, and I boil

With the energy / Of fifteen Wellbutrin today. I am left here to my work that's called, "To be all

The way true with myself" Which comes From this very domepiece here, you all. That I-

-Can ever be an audience to myself, forever, Is enough of an accomplishment as a poet.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

The writing, tho, is another voice telling me about Myself, knocking on my skull for hollow spots

To take a sledgehammer to. It drifts, I think, / Thru many People, explaining whatever's holy around them: like ticks

Finding weeds by the broken gate That grow in an unnatural sort of way like

        They got sprayed with chemicals Or something, though,

Perhaps the ground is bad, by the broken gate. Where I make my desolate way to work,

                                 Have my desolate work done, or to say, this crime:            I say my continuum: I despoil my ego, sure, but that is not the crime. I-

-Intend the risk, but have in me some coward Pushing back, repeatedly asking me if I'm

Crazy or something: suddenly I am fallen To the breaches of the World, so as to find

My Gd., the one that is the baroque one, And wriggle about as if I was a child on her

First plane ride: my ears hurting popping Cabin pressure and hellish something

Outing my innermost / What if's about The Baby; so it, like conjuring a thesis

Statement, shapes something of all That contradicting Clay into

Something my inner nobody can handle, frail as he is he Lays muted, finally attached to the beauty / Of the flower

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

In my lungs. Go inside an Outside place, something says,

Permeating thru a fog of voices, Pieces, The bees they are long gone,

And I am not alone: so: notice Yr location, detail by detail,

The plain sense here is there: My symmetry is more than bothered air:

It is calls to me made by the telephone: I listen patiently to the dialtone as it weeps,

All things then taking on a character of Consciousness. I apply my consciousness

To others, like ravens do maybe. And then It is / Almost done, as is the inching doom:

I should b at this moment receiving Nourishment from feeding Tube, A coma patient suspended in Unbroken sleep, loved ones hoping He'll waken to his will again, Those I love / Doubly forsaken By me who thought he ws. forsaken

By the World.-- This perpetuity is a moody little fate I have in me, It is the location I notice, like you said, you, thru The fog. Happy? Now it won't leave. It is like A mouse i'the wainscot [Dickinson] / Telling me Myself, poet or perhaps the man, or the opening sun Once more to strange and futile dawns since since I do live, and live: so I am: and I have my own

Special clan of becketts picking Sundries from their asses

Soothing my jagged impressions of the World With familiar image, smoothing like a ironing Board; and, they keep policing the fictions on Which rest the reasoning behind my writing Behavior, why I did a song so very long.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

"Old father old artificer Stand me now and ever in good stead." Rough the linens on my deathbed are, and scratchy, It's wool I always hated the texture of when I was A kid: now of course, am a Loathing Regular of All On the internet, / Intent on memes to the last, he was, That's what it'll say on my epitaph. / In all my strength I say, then, or entreaty my messd up life disappear into

The dawn that I think has something wrong With it, it seems like it is kind of off, like People who are confined in boarding houses For the mentally ill. From my screaming Radio I hear someone selling Cadillacs. It Was not midnight. It was not raining. It was The fence that was my crime, outstretched Into stupid distances like a Wyoming of the Dirty cosmos, dirtier than silence cures the Exegete. I profit sentence by sentence, see,

And the Ars Poetica is a way to send a treatment Of the play to The Hollywood. Sentence is a line Robbing my habitat, until I am inside looking in, For the sky stops at the ground, and that is all. The mirror falls, and I must write out savage Things like this, that make up their mind About what they are, interest only

In keeping symmetrical. My soul needs exit From any light, even of lamp, it needs a Hypnotic Like Ambien to trip out on and slump over Dinner with my family later, still fucked up on It. Then something stops, not time, I do Not want it to be anything like time. Perhaps Verbosity: but I do comment

On epiphanies well enough to know the sound OF epiphany, without knowing what exactly The sudden clarity reveals. Did one look at What one saw, or did one see what

One looked at? -Thats me stealing from Hart Crane. Great artists steal because they see

How a style can be improved, so adopt it, make It better. Such sins amass; the Angels sing, O Theft!

Theft! And I go ahead plant a knife enough a knife for some Australian guy to say, "THATS A KNIFE." But not

Enough to charge anybody with anything, then somehow Twist it into a hate crime, duly distracting The Angels

From their liminal matters of blame upon me I am / Not thieving, I am making belated what Came before me, sort of like Mars in retrograde;

The stiff providence of fences and unlimited Bougie refernces atone for my ubiquitous use

OF all the best parts of everything, to make them Better than they were, written by those

Who wore a style like a 18th century noble Wears a musket: protectively. He honors most My steal, sorry, i mean style, who works under it-

-To destroy the teacher, saith Whitman, But that is love: all he didnt have was a hand On the button ol Kimmy J is foaming at the mouth

To push, destruction is abstraction, sure; Destruction here is used loosely for the sake of Serenity of speaking phrases gone away

Like they all went on a family vacation or something. Bleed, and you will summon presence enough To empty yourself for sleep [Faulkner] or make An infidel of abraham and Split the-

-Planets [Melville] and this cosmos is a trunk Of Blanche Dubois fine french furs, I bet you think this is

That, as on I go in a struggle to prove to everyone That I saw God & junk, on that day I got high On SSRIs and grasped for sense only to find it Under the control of something espionage And aloof, darting eyes not like a villain

But like a Paranoid Raven, then dies me as opposed To not: Reversal of some happy bumps in the day To make up for all the spooky ones in the night That hint at me like the first oncomings of ALS And I have not a feature film but hope the grass Is green as well on this margent of further sides Then abrupt belief, to dive in an' conquer or Repel sense back to Plato's Cave, which is a-

-Reference I shouldnt be using as I oh puritanical collector Of souls, well, I havent read Plato at all but i feel like if i did

Id be made another mans satellite, as Emerson, Somewhat in the vein of Blake, says in his introduction

                     To the essay Nature, I think that's the one. So: A hawk crosses the sky like there was some

A to B GPS followment but it is probably just migrating early. Take everyone back to the city. [Ashbery]

FURTHERANCE

[perpetually-jungshook]

SorryNotSorry

(How to Change a Fuqboi- between the lines)

Word Count: 2.1k

Request: @baekinacupoftae​

Ok so I’ve read the fboi series… THEY WERE LIT despite being frustrating bc why the cliffhangers? u make me wanna cri. Nah, jk. But if you do have time, a sequel/closure would be nice. Only if you want to :) *whispers (especially Taehyung’s)

A/N: So! I have officially made a fan theory for my own story! Does that make me conceited? 🤔 or just a proud author? 😂 Haha~ This story comes from an “all one main character” timeline/theory for the Fuqboi series. I also included Jackson cuz why not? 😉 enjoy and as always, make sure to pay attention to details 💖

The light sprinkle of spring rain had ceased a few hours ago, but the damp smell still floats into your olfactory system with a vengeance, especially as you walk out of the department store for the last time, clutching your coat tighter around your frame. Thankfully, Namjoon hadn’t been scheduled to work today, so you were able to clean out your locker in peace.

Submitting your two weeks notice had been easier than you thought, especially with the excuse of “I’ve decided to focus on school” sitting on the tip of your tongue. It wasn’t a lie. You’ll be transferring to a different university this fall, but now you’re completely free.

Free to do what? Besides spend more time on campus, you aren’t exactly sure. Forget Namjoon? Yes. And his petty, disgusting denial of his true, selfish identity. Forget Yoongi? Yes. He was only a one time mistake you made because you were so desperate to get away from…

Taehyung.

The name sends a wave of nausea through you, forcing your body to double over as you reach your car. You swallow hard around the urge to dry heave, refusing to cry. Still, the memory strikes you hard like a punch.

You tapped your pencil against the surface of your desk, trying to concentrate.

Annotating poems was one of your least favorite things, but your literature class demanded it, so annotate you would. Maybe.

The loud buzz of the dryer gave you just the excuse you needed to abandon the task momentarily. With too much enthusiasm, you emptied it of its contents, suddenly deciding that pristinely folded clothes were a top priority.

This load of laundry had been a mix of yours and Tae’s. The two of you shared a hamper, after all, and the duty to empty it out often fell on you- not that you minded. Living at his parents’ house rent free was compensation enough.

As you made your way through the pleasantly warm pile, something unexpected made you stop.

A pair of lacy red panties.

They definitely weren’t yours, and this observation began the chronic downward spiral. Where did they come from? Taehyung? He couldn’t have…? Not again. Could he? Even after MONTHS of being faithful? Usually you tried to classify these thoughts as benign, unjustified unease. But this time, THIS TIME, you had something solid, tangible evidence to ignite your anxiety.

You hadn’t caught Taehyung cheating for months. You barely even saw him LOOK at other girls since the compromise. But this? The underwear of another girl?

Anger flared in your system just in time for the front door to open. You could hear it along with his deep voice, which called out, seeking you, “Baby, I’m home. How’s the homework? Will you be done soon or do you want to…?”

His question trailed off as he found you in the living room, pinching the article of clothing in question like it was a creature about to bite, yet also an object so fragile that it would shatter with the slightest movement.

Taehyung’s boxy smile immediately dropped when he saw the expression on your face.

“Baby, that’s not…” he started, but you raised your hand to cut him off.

“Please don’t speak to me right now.”

“But I didn’t-”

You placed the underwear down on top of his pile of clothes, shaking your head, “I gave it everything I had, Tae.”

“I don’t know-”

He seemed genuinely perplexed, but something inside of you had already broken.

“I just… need to leave,” your voice sounded hollow even to your ears.

“I don’t know where those came from,” he blurted, raking his fingers through his hair as the severity of what you said dawned on him. “Really, honest to god. Are you sure they aren’t yours?”

You didn’t even take the time to respond, picking up your pile of clothes to go to your room. Following, but giving you a few steps of space as if he wouldn’t dare CHANCE touching you, Taehyung started rambling.

“They could be my mom’s,” he offered desperately, voice cracking as you began sifting through your closet and drawers, starting a small pile on the bed. “I- I haven’t done anything. I promise- I SWEAR.”

You wanted to listen to him, to hope, to forgive, but you COULDN’T. Whether or not any of what he said was true, whether or not he HAD actually cheated again… you were done. You had given him everything. Your time, your heart, and later with the compromise, your virginity. Yet none of that could heal the wound of mistrust he’d inflicted. He’d made you feel cheap, like a slut, an enabler who knew her boyfriend had a history of sleeping around but STAYED ANYWAY.

So you had to do it. You HAD to leave. The waiting, the wondering, it was all too much. You couldn’t trust him, no matter how much you thought he loved you. Or worse, no matter how much you thought you loved him.

That had been half a year ago.

You take a few deep breaths, steadying yourself before climbing into the driver’s seat. Your fingers find your phone and dial the first recently called number.

Jackson picks up on the second ring, “Dude, I’m a little busy?”

“Sorry,” you sigh, resting your head against the steering wheel. “I just wanted to make sure you left the door unlocked.”

“Oh,” he clears his throat, “I MIGHT have forgotten… But I’ll be home in like twenty minutes, okay?”

Seven months and he still hasn’t found the spare key.

Living with Jackson had been third on your list of preferences, but it beat other options like staying at home or at Taehyung’s. Jisoo, your first choice, already has five people living in an apartment clearly meant to comfortably fit one. And Chaeyoung’s parents hate you for reasons you suspected have everything to do with her constant complaining to them about your “toxic” relationships.

So here you are, crashing in a two bedroom condo with your “third” best friend.

Needless to say, you don’t really get out much.

You pull up to the curb, lucky to find a parking spot in this mess of a complex, and with heavy limbs, practically drag yourself to the correct door just as Jackson’s shiny black truck haphazardly screeches to a halt. He tumbles out of it to sprint toward you, key raised like an Olympic torch.

Judging by the redness of his eyes, he’s either high or drunk, but this isn’t anything new.

“I got it! I got it,” he stumbles up the few steps before shoving the key into your palm. You can suddenly smell the alcohol on his breath. “There. No harm no foul.”

“Thanks, Jackson,” you sigh, giving him an awkward pat on his ridiculously muscly shoulder. “I’m glad you got someone to drive you here too.”

“Oh right,” he spins on his heel, abruptly yelling at the driver, “Just park it anywhere.”

You watch the truck lurch forward and roll down the street at an unsteady pace. Unsure what to make of it, you shrug and unlock the door, letting Jackson stumble in first, massive smile spreading across his lips.

“So, Namjoon or no?”

The name sends a prickle of irritation through you, “No.”

“Dude, I’m telling you. You should’ve just asked him to fuck.”

An angry blush colors your cheeks, “I didn’t WANT to fuck him.”

“Right, you had Yoongi for that.”

And this is why you don’t want to live with Jackson.

Despite the comfortably warm temperature, you suppress a shiver, namely because you know he’s right. Yoongi was just the consolation prize for the gap that Taehyung had left in your heart and Namjoon was the desperate attempt to fix your self image. Even so, you’d prefer not to think about it.

“Will you STOP?” you huff, throwing the keys onto the small table near the door.

“Sorry,” he cackles, giving your arm a humorous punch that (probably unintentionally) HURTS. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you to your stupid books.”

Sometimes you swear that if you hadn’t been friends with him since before he turned into a grossly typical “bad boy” in high school, you would’ve never spoken to him in the first place.

Still, at least he wasn’t a fuckboy.

“Wait, want a cig?” Jackson offers as he pulls the pack from his shirt pocket, flannel buttons off by one near the middle.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

“Eh, someday you’ll try it.”

You trek down the hallway to your room- well, less “your room” than Jackson’s storage closet that happens to have a bed in it. Walking around stacks of papers, boxes, and other random CRAP, you throw yourself down on the mattress, letting your book bag drop to the floor.

What you wouldn’t give for one of Taehyung’s thermoses full of homemade noodles.

Your heart aches.

Flipping open one of your textbooks to distract yourself, you stare blankly at the words, eyes skimming across them but brain absorbing none. You decide to give up as soon as you hear the front door open and an unfamiliar voice saying, “I left the truck in the parking lot down the street near the liquor store. There weren’t any spots open.”

“Did you hit anything?” Jackson asks in his easily identifiable slightly raspy voice.

“I may or may not have backed into a shopping cart…”

It isn’t unusual for one of you to have friends over. What IS strange is the fact that you have no idea who is speaking. Your friend circle is very small, consisting of Jackson, Jisoo, and Chaeyoung. Your housemate has a few regulars that frequently stop by too, Mark, Jaebum, and some guy they call Bambam- who you’ve always suspected is their weed dealer.

This voice is too soft to be Jaebum, he’s too talkative to be Mark, and Bambam never stops by unless all three are in the house. This leaves mystery guy peaking your interest.

You abandon your textbook, slipping off of the bed.

“Dude really? You backed Marci into a SHOPPING CART?”

“Marci?”

“My baby, my ride, MY BEAUTIFUL TRUCK.”

“Jackson, chill.”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CHILL.”

Classic Jackson, screaming, but not actually upset.

“Why did I let someone drive who doesn’t have a license?”

You stop in the hallway, leaning against one of the walls, content with observing. The boy with Jackson is beautiful to say the least. Smooth features, hair pulled up in a snapback, kissable lips, dark eyes, killer smirk-

Smirk?

That’s when you realize you’ve been staring… and he’s been staring RIGHT BACK.

A blush floods your cheeks, but you decide that because you’ve already been caught in the act, there’s no point in trying to hide yourself.

“You MADE me drive because I wouldn’t let you leave intoxicated,” the boy says, amused, but not breaking eye contact with you. Oh no. He’s hot and he KNOWS it.

“Ah, that’s right,” Jackson nods, tapping his finger to his forehead, big grin plastered all over his flushed face. “I’m so smart and responsible.”

You decide to not remind your friend that the reason he’d had to leave the party was because he failed to unlock the door.

“Definitely…” mystery guy trails off before clearing his throat. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”

“That’s cuz I don’t,” Jackson laughs, glancing over his shoulder to follow the boy’s gaze. “She’s just a good friend who needed a place to live.”

Sometimes, you loved Jackson’s obliviousness. Other times, it bothered you immensely. Why wouldn’t he introduce you formally?

Mystery guy’s kissable lips form into a small “o,” and he cocks his head slightly, finally letting his gaze wander away from your eyes- only to explore the REST of your body. Heat shoots straight down to the pit of your stomach, making your legs weak.

Jackson seems to get momentarily confused, then scoffs, “When you’re done eye-fucking her, let me know and we can go get food.”

Unabashed, the boy nods, “Sure thing.”

Your friend wanders past you toward his room, letting the door close behind him and leaving you alone with mystery guy. Something pinches your throat, slowing time to a hazy halt, each breath teetering on the edge of possibility. The tension in the air is palpable and with each step he takes toward you, a pleasantly uncomfortable knot in your stomach tightens.

For a moment, you forget Namjoon, Yoongi, and…Taehyung.

He stops only two steps away, catching your hand in his to bring it up to his lips with another terribly beautiful smirk.

He kisses the knuckle of your middle finger gently, voice dropping to a whisper, “Well hello there, love. I’m Jimin. Who might you be?”

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

EOPQ 12: So in what order (chronologically) do the Volumes occur? Think you can piece it together? 😉

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