#anyway that thing. never once had acne there

[oflgtfol]

now that i no longer have insanely crazy acne i am discovering that i actually have freckles. very very subtle freckles to where you cant really see them unless youre me staring at myself up close in the mirror but still

[cmncisspnandmore]

Can I ask for a Simon Riley x female reader but she's self conscious about her body (things like stretch marks, acne, unconventional body type) but he doesn't give a damn and loves her anyway lol

Here ya go love, sorry it took so long. <3

Pairing: Simon RIley X Reader

Warnings: Reader has body issues? Simon being sweet.

~~~~~

You stare at your reflection i n the mirror, smoothing your dress down for the hundredth time. A small frown on your lips as you tugged the tight fabric, trying to pull it away from your body. You felt like you were a sausage, stuffed tight in its casing. The black dress you bought was meant to be flattering. It was meant to make you feel beautiful. But instead you feel like everyone is staring at the pudge on your stomach. You feel like everyone can see the stretch marks on your arms and legs from growing too quickly. 

With a sigh you reach for the hem of the dress, ripping it up over your head and tossing it to the ground. There was nothing in your closet you felt like wearing. Everything was too tight, or too revealing. It was too flashy and drew attention. Or you were afraid it would be too plain and Simon would feel it wasn’t dressy enough for your date. 

Tears burn in your eyes, you wish you were skinnier. You wish you didn't have stretch marks that tiger striped your skin. But you had tried every diet, every lotion, every solution to make yourself feel better about yourself but nothing worked. At this point you weren't even sure why Simon stuck around. He was gorgeous, he could have any girl he wanted yet he was still here with you. Maybe it was pity? Maybe it was convenient? Maybe he didn't feel like trying to date?

Whatever his reason was you sure as hell didn't feel like you deserved him. You wanted to be beautiful, you wanted to look in the mirror and be happy. You didn't want to stand in front of the mirror trying on every item in your closet only to end up wearing the same things you felt safe in. You wanted to dress up for a date night with Simon and love the way you looked… But instead you sit on the bed and cry.

You hate the way you look. You hate the person who stares back at you. You hate the way your thighs touch and how your hair is never shiny enough. How you didn't fill out dresses the way they did on the mannequins. You wanted to wear dresses and thigh highs, you wanted to wear short sleeves. You wanted to wake up one day and not feel like you had to run 2 miles to eat breakfast. You didn't want to sit down for a meal and wonder if it was worth eating. 

You scrub your hand over your face, the tears slide down your cheeks. A harsh breath rushing past your lips as you sit on the edge of the bed. With a sigh you pull on your hoodie and sweatpants, moving to sit back against the headboard. You stare blankly at the clothes thrown about the room. A reminder of all the outfits you tried on and hated. Why couldn't you just be like the other girls? Be like Soap and Gaz’s girlfriends who seemed to wake up and put on anything they wanted.

You swore they could wear a plastic bag and make it designer. But you? If it didn't hide every curve, every stretch mark and scar on your body you wouldn't even think twice about wearing it. It was an automatic no. There were a few things you felt comfortable wearing, your go to was a hoodie and sweatpants when at home. When did you leave the house? A pair of jeans and an oversized shirt. You hated that when you sat down on the couch your automatic response was to hold a pillow on your lap to try and cover your stomach. You hated how you would suck in subconsciously to try and make yourself smaller.

You put your head down on your knees, your arms wrapped around your legs as you cry softly. When would you feel worth it? When would you be happy with your body?

Simon’s gut tells him something is wrong, you told him you would be out once you were dressed. You were supposed to be going out to the pub with Soap and Gaz tonight. But it had been awhile since you disappeared into the bedroom. 

He makes his way towards your shared room, the door getting stuck slightly as he pushes it open. The clothes on the floor get caught under it and cause resistance. The first thing Simon notices is the entirety of your closet all over the room, the scattered hangers around the room. His brown eyes land on you, your head on your knees, shoulders shaking slightly as you cry. His heart breaks, Simon hated to see you upset, and it was simple for him to piece the puzzle together. Clearly trying to find something to wear didn't go well. 

“Love?” Simon calls softly, as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. It dips slightly from his weight, and his large hand closes over your wrist. He tugs gently and manages to get you to look up from your knees. A frown coming across his face as he takes in the makeup running down your cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly, hishand coming to brush your mascara tears away.

“I just want to be pretty,..’” you whisper hoarsely.

“You are pretty, baby, why do you think you’re not?” Simon's voice is soft as he moves closer to you. His hands come to rest on the tops of your knees, he gives them a small squeeze.

“I’m not like them…” 

“Like who Love?” 

“Like the other girls… They’re so pretty, they  have perfect hair, perfect skin… They can wear whatever they want and look beautiful.. I wear something remotely skin tight and I look like someone overfilled a sausage casing,” You start to sob, hot fat tears rolling down your cheeks again. 

Simon knew you had some underlying issues with how you looked. You would often mention that you wish you could wear something. Or when you would look at one of your magazines he would see your shoulder slump slightly when you got to the ads. The longing look in your eyes as you looked at the girls that littered the pages. But he didn't care that you didn't look like stick thin overly made up barbies. He loved you for who you were. 

He loved your curves, and the way your body fit against his. He didn't find the girls in the magazines attractive, they looked almost sick to Simon. He had always favored women that had some meat on their bones. The ones who didn't look like one slightly strong wind could blow them over. But most importantly he loved you. 

“Baby, I promise that you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I love every part of you. Your curves. Your stretch marks. The scar on your left shoulder. To the way you crinkle your nose when i say something you find funny but aren't allowed to laugh. I love the way your body fits against mine. I love every part of you, and if I have to tell you every day for the rest of your life just how much I love the parts that you don't , I will.” Simon’s fingers grasp your chin as he leans in, his forehead against yours as he whispers to you.

“You promise?” You whisper, slowly opening your eyes as he pulls back.

“I promise,” He whispers, leaning in and capturing your lips in a soft kiss. “Now how about we stay in tonight, yeah?” He whispers against your lips as his lips ghost along your cheek towards your neck. 

[innxrvision]

So long - pt. 2 𒂭

part 2 of 3 ------------ 𖦹 tags: james hetfield x reader, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, bet, 80s james, a little angst if you squint ♱ a/n: here's part 2 just like i promised! Also... this got too long again and I had to split once more, I'm sorry. Next part will be the last hopefully! I'll probably only be able to post it on wednesday or thursday tho, but we'll see how things go! Thanks to everyone that has been reading and liking my story, it truly made me happy!

𖦹 part 1 𖦹 part 2 𖦹 part 3

Both of you entered the bar already chatting excitedly, just as you imagined, whatever disagreement that came between you two couldn't last long. You and James' friendship went way back.

"Let's get you a drink." James' playful smile made you smile involuntarily back.

He ordered two beers and raised his glass after you two settled down on a table near the wall, on a spot where the soft yellow light shined right on James' blonde locks.

"To making up!" He said, the smile never leaving his lips.

"If you say so." You shrugged, raising your glass too, but there wasn't any hint of resentment in your voice.

"I really am sorry about what I've said to you earlier. I never wanted to hurt you." He repeated his apology sincerely.

You shrugged again in response, not wanting to make a big deal out of it again.

"What has gotten into you anyway?" You asked genuinely curious before taking a sip.

"I don't really know." He admitted and you could sense some embarrassment coming from him. "I guess my emotions were all over the place and I took all on you. I truly hope you can forgive me."

You just nodded in response, you could easily understand his side.

Soon one beer became two, then three… and before you could realize it, both were a bit too drunk, laughing obnoxiously loud at each other's stupid jokes.

At a certain moment, while James were rambling about his new guitar, your mind wandered as you studied his features under the soft light. The unruly blond hair now gained a different shine, the blue eyes seemed more vivid, and the skin covered by acne suddenly got a different charm to it.

You've known him for years, but, for some reason, the realization that he had grown into a man only hit you now. It's not like you haven't noticed his changes at all, you could admit the boy you knew had gained the charms of a man a long time ago, however, something at that bar made it all become more evident. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Regardless, you just stayed silent, lost in your thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" James' voice cut through your mind, his eyebrow quirked in confusion. "You're looking at me like I have two heads or something." He added, a chuckle coming out of his lips.

You snapped out of it as soon as you heard him, your cheeks heating up in response to his question.

"What?" You laughed nervously "Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment, go on."

James grinned, finding your flustered expression too amusing to let it go.

"I must really put you in a state to make you blush like that." He took another sip of his beer and kept grinning at you. "What were you thinking about before? I'm curious now."

You tried your best to appear bored and rested your elbow on the table, putting your chin on top of your hand.

"Nothing. Just… Work."

He studied your face and the playful expression he had before turned into a smirk.

"You're hiding something." He teased. "You're a terrible liar."

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be offended by his observation.

"I'm not!" You shot back. "I said it's nothing. You're too curious for your own good."

"Come on, tell me." He nudged your shoulder. "It's not fair if you keep it a secret."

"Not fair? What? Don't you have any secrets?" You scoffed.

"Of course I do. But your secrets are much more interesting to me right now than my own." He leaned closer and raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So spill it. What were you really thinking about? Was it a boy?"

You looked at him incredulous, just wishing he would drop the subject.

"You can't be serious." You looked with concern in your expression at him and he laughed in response.

"Oh, I'm being serious. You were blushing so hard, so it must be a boy." He grinned, crossing his arms. It was clear that he was enjoying messing up with you. "So come on, spill it. Is it someone I know? Do you want me to hook you up?"

"No! What? You're crazy." You couldn't believe he thought you wanted him to hook you up with somebody.

"I know you're thinking about someone, just tell me already. Who's the lucky guy?" He pressed again.

"There's... No one!" You were starting to get frustrated.

"Oh, please. You can't fool me, I know you. You were obviously daydreaming about someone." He raised an eyebrow again and you had to take a deep breath in order to control yourself. "Is it one of the guys? Lars maybe? Or... Is it Kirk? I know you two are very close. You got a thing for him?" His voice dripped with amusement, it was clear he was enjoying teasing you.

"What?!" You opened your mouth in shock as he started pointing names. "I've never...! I never liked Kirk! Where did this come from?!"

"I can see the way you look at him sometimes." He chuckled, it seemed like he was testing you. "If it's not him, then who is it? I won't leave you alone until you tell me."

"Kirk is like a brother to me!" You said offended, your cheeks getting hot once again.

"You're protesting a little too much. I know you're hiding something from me." He studied your blushed face in silence for a second "Well, whoever he is, we can play matchmaker and set you up on a date." He batted his eyelashes dramatically at you and laughed.

"Why are you so invested in being my wingman? Who says I need one?"

You were getting tired of this talk. One second of distraction staring too much at him and now you had to deal with James playing guess by himself. He already loved getting on your nerves, but whenever he got drunk that would get worse.

"You've been single for almost a year now." He grinned. "I just want to help you find someone to share your life with."

You couldn't believe he decided to throw that on your face. Ouch. You sighed and looked around the bar for a second, trying to find a good response.

"Why don't you worry about your own love life?"

He chuckled again, shrugging off your comment.

"You know I don't do long-term relationships." He said casually. "I'm more of a one-night-stand kind of guy." He winked and that irritated you.

You looked down at your hands, trying to navigate your feelings. For some reason, hearing that he had been sleeping with other girls made you feel jealous. You tried your best to not seem affected, but James noticed the shift in your reaction.

"What's wrong with one-night stands?" He asked, his tone playful.

"I just think it's gross." You cursed yourself mentally for your childish response.

"C'mon... You're such a prude." He rolled his eyes and teased you, nudging at your arm. "One-night stands aren't gross, they're just casual fun. You should try it sometime, it might loosen you up a bit." There was that smug grin again that made you heated.

"I don't need to loosen up, I'm fine the way I am." You tried defending yourself. "And also, I'm not a prude."

"Sure, keep telling yourself this." He shrugged, that grin only growing wider at your frustration. "But deep down, you're just a boring goody-two-shoes who wouldn't know how to have a good time if your life depended on it." He continued. "Bet you've never even been on a proper date before."

You scoffed. Yeah, he made a habit of teasing you and yes, that would worsen whenever he drunk, but tonight he seemed even more invested in driving you nuts. "Is it just the alcohol?" You asked yourself.

"Of course I have!" You crossed your arms. "I can have fun just fine. I just think the girls you hook up with are gross."

You tried attacking him, but it was clear that your response only amused him even more.

"Gross, huh? Interesting choice of words." He leaned closer once again. "Does that mean you think I'm gross too? For hooking up with random girls?" He waited for your response, staring at you.

"I've never said that." You regretted mentioning his hookups and sighed.

"I know you're judgmental of my dating life." He leaned back and shrugged. "You're probably just jealous that I'm getting some action and you're not." He smiled triumphantly.

"Who says I'm not getting some action?" You tried your best to sound convincing but your attempt only made him laugh.

"Oh, really? With whom exactly? A pillow? A stuffed animal?" You blushed and he caught your reaction. "I knew it. You don't have anyone. Which is why you're so sour and uptight because you're not getting laid." He taunted.

"You're such an ass." You looked away and rolled your eyes. "It's none of your business, maybe? Just leave my love life alone, please." At this point, you had given up winning this conversation.

"Alright, alright. I'll leave your non-existent love life alone." He raised both of his hands in surrender. "But if you need some advice on how to get laid, come to me. I'm something of an expert, y'know?" He winked playfully.

"Like I would take your advice." You laughed sarcastically, seeing the perfect chance to annoy him back. "Bet you don't how to please girls at all." You added, certain that this would drive him crazy.

In response, he just smiled and shook his head. A different reaction that you were expecting.

"Oh yeah? You think I can't satisfy a girl?" He said confidently and leaned closer to you once again. "In fact, I bet I could satisfy you better than any other guy you've ever been with."

You stopped in your tracks, wondering if you heard him right. "He's just trying to get a reaction of me." You thought to tranquilize yourself.

"No way. Bet you take like... One minute." You decided just to keep teasing, trying to give him hell back for being so annoying.

"You think I'm that bad?" He raised an eyebrow with a smile on his lips. He then went silent for a second and something in his expression changed. "How about we make a bet then? If I can't please you better than anyone you've ever been with before, I'll do the dishes at your house for a week. But... If I do a good job, you have to take me out on a date."

"What?" Your mind went blank with shock and you felt a wave of heat from the embarrassment go through your entire body. Everything was all fun and games until now, but now you were just dumbfounded.

James noticed the shock in your expression and bit his lip, realizing he may have overstepped, but it was too late to take back now.

"Just hear me out. It'll be fun, it's just a harmless bet." He said quickly. "We are friends, right? What's wrong with having some fun?" He tried.

You couldn't even look straight at him now. It's true that you've been getting more and more attracted to him, but since you were best friends, you never expected this kind of proposal to come from him. Was it the alcohol? Was he just trying to prove a point? Your thoughts ran a 100 mph, trying to decide what should you do.

"I..." You started, then shook your head in an attempt to clear your mind. "Fine, it's a bet."

[hclymoonsblog]

Memory Arc

GN!Child of Aphrodite x Luke Castellan

Author’s note : I imagined the reader as female but could also be read as gender neutral. Listened to Memory Arc from Rivale Consoles as I wrote.

Warnings : Angst to comfort, with a bit of fluff at the end. Mentions of self-isolation, self-deprecation, nostalgia, fear of death, smoking, acne breakouts, implicit depression from the reader, Luke is insensitive but makes up for it. 

The Aphrodite cabin was awfully quiet. It had been for a while, considering all of your step-siblings had, once again, failed at the tedious task of getting you to attend the nightly campfire. 

It wasn’t their fault, really. But there was no try. Putting on a face and trying to maintain somewhat a form of social life among your peers had been the very least of your concerns. They knew it, and so did you, which is why assuring them that spending your evening listening to music, dining off a few snacks and enjoying silence was perfectly fine with you, had been enough to get them to go. The cabin residents had eventually agreed to leave you on your own, abandoning you to your chosen isolation. 

And, indeed, that’s precisely what was happening. Faint Lana Del Rey was playing in the room – Thunder, the unreleased version, to be exact. You could have recognized the song among a thousand, thanks to its distinct first notes and the familiar grain of the device it was being played on: the mp3 Luke had stolen for you about a year ago, when you first arrived at camp. 

A wave of nostalgia hit you as the boy crossed your mind. You mindlessly inspected the small, grey box, letting your manicured nails trace over the small stickers glued onto the metallic surface. He had never outwardly expressed where he got it from, nor why he chose to gift it to you, among all people. 

You remembered the moment vividly.

***

This was on your second day at camp, at breakfast. You had barely slept, plagued by distressing nightmares all revolving around the implication of being the child of a literal god — or goddess, you weren't sure. It all seemed too surreal to you, and the fact you hadn’t been claimed yet wasn’t helping with it either. Luke Castellan, for some reason, happened to be sitting right next to you at the Hermes table, which welcomed unclaimed children like you, as Mr. D had said in a way that you guessed to be willing to remind you you didn’t belong. Hopefully, that wouldn’t last for long. The thought made you frown unconsciously.

The camp counselor had observed you fiddle with your food for a while, almost thoughtfully. Without a word, he pulled a small object out of his pocket and handed it to you.

“You talk in your sleep.” He commented, giving little to no context regarding his gesture.

Your eyes went from the item, to Luke, to the item again, not moving an inch.

The lack of sleep, combined with all of the information you had to interiorise, made you glare at the box both with curiosity and suspicion, waiting for him to elaborate. Was this another unknown, mystic artefact to, magically, grant you a dreamless sleep?

He blinked, staring back at your emotionless eyes from the insomnia, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“This, is a mp3,” He explained, gesturing to the small screen and the music note on the back of the device, maintaining the eye contact between the two of you, as if it was trying to get his point across. “You can download songs, and, y’know, listen to music with it.”

“I know what a mp3 is.” You cut him a bit defensively, your cheeks flushing a bit from the slight embarrassment. 

To punctuate your sentence, you pressed a button to switch it on, in order to let him know you actually had owned a similar thing in the past, back when things were still normal for you. Why was this guy showing you off his mp3, anyways?

“I’m sure you do.” The slight mocking tone and the faintest smirk you detected onto Luke’s lips left you questioning the whole point of the conversation. 

Conveniently, the look on your face must have told Luke everything he needed to know as he picked up the conversation. “I thought this might help you relax. Take your mind off things, and, hopefully, make you feel a bit more at home, with songs you like.” 

Your eyes softened. The slight irritation you were feeling towards him evaporated from your body. His friendly gesture had taken you aback, and in a good way. The mp3 may have been in a questionable state, the fact the boy — which was just as much of a stranger than you were to him — had tried to make you feel good, and therefore, welcomed in your new place, was touching.

“… Thank you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Luke’s whole face brightened. An unfamiliar warmth spread across your chest. He ran a hand through his dark curls, looking to the side for a split second.

“How did you get that, though? I didn’t know there was a mystery Apple Store at camp.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I stumbled upon it.”

***

Unexpected was the word. Nevertheless, you had truly appreciated the friendly gesture. He had been the first person to act kindly towards you ever since your arrival – at least, not in a way that felt exaggeratingly forced, unlike some other camp residents. You could say this present had sealed the beginning of your friendship. As you stared at it, it left you reflecting onto the day you first met Luke and wondering about where the two of you stood. 

Soon enough, you had no choice but to face the harsh reality of things, which led you inevitably into spiralling into your thoughts.

The two of you hadn’t had a real conversation in months. You didn’t spar together anymore, neither did you share the mp3 he had gifted you, one earbud each, to make him listen to music he claimed to hate — a supposed disdain which had never prevented him from singing, quite awfully, the lyrics along with you. 

You didn’t sit next to one another anymore, didn’t hang out anymore. All of that was quite simply gone.

You had to content yourself of occasional, fleeting from across the hall, nods of acknowledgment. 

People had noticed. They came up to you, asked you about him, probably as much as they asked him about you. 

Of course, you knew. Deep down, you knew why it all went down. 

It is an obligation for demigods to demonstrate constant, unwavering strength and courage. For all you knew, those two had never been qualities that you particularly lacked. 

But when it came to the dark haired boy, it seemed like all the traits you thought you owned came crashing down, and you were left bare, defenseless, while he could see right through your soul.

And you hated that. You thought befriending — though the verb doesn’t quite fit — the best swordsman in camp would help you get rid of the weakness Aphrodite children tend to be associated with. But, truly, it had in fact only been the opposite.

Your barriers all came undone, without fail, one after the other. Your heart only grew fonder, more passionate. And yet, one thing you learned the hard way about being a demigod, is that there is no room for weakness. 

You knew you wouldn’t be capable of balancing both courage and attachment, so the only option left was to flee, to disengage yourself from such a bond, before it was too late. 

Once you got back from your first ever quest, the one in which you almost got violently murdered by a giant scorpion and a bunch of other terrifying creatures, the one which sent you into a concerning amount of sleepless nights, you were convinced of it. 

You wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of forcing yourself through this life without him.

You had believed, foolishly, your avoidance would make things easier.

The truth is that it had only made you feel more heartachingly miserable.

Time had flown by, and despite all your efforts, Luke was still the first thing you thought of when you woke up and the last thing on your mind when you went off to sleep.

For a daughter of Aphrodite, you sure sucked at love. 

The irony of it all left a bitter taste in your mouth.

This was why listening to Lana, despite the affection you held for her, was so dangerous. It always sent you into an uncontrollable overload of emotions.

Fully intending to get rid of the sadness wave before it fully hit you, you stood up from your bed and switched off the device before carefully putting it away in a drawer.

Then, you picked up a pink hoodie, not sure what step-sibling you were borrowing it from, and carelessly put it on. 

As much as you loved the tenth cabin and its coquette aesthetic, you weren’t really feeling that coquette at the moment, which is precisely the reason why you got on your knees in order to grab the pack of Malboro’s carefully hidden under your bed. 

You were glad any of your step-siblings hadn’t picked up on the fact you were smoking, or you would not have ever stopped hearing about it. You could already hear Silena lecturing you about the effect it would have on your lungs, or worse, on your skin. 

Surely the Silena you were imagining in your head was right, though. The frequent smoking, which had been intensifying lately, could explain why you had been breaking out a bit more than usual. 

Thankfully, the perks of being part of the Aphrodite cabin always involved somebody always being kind enough to help the other with spots coverage, so it hadn’t been much of an issue to you. Ever since, you had been perfectly capable of doing it on your own.

You walked out the wooden cabin, shutting the door behind you with a barely audible creak. Immediately met with the cool air, goosebumps erupted on your skin. Maybe cotton shorts weren’t the move for such weather, after all. Too bad. You felt like you had gone through worse — you were more than capable of fighting off the not-so-warm spring evening air. 

It was dark. The moon was your only source of light, since you hadn’t thought about picking up a flashlight before leaving, but that was quite good enough already. Your legs were always bringing you to the precise spot in camp you had in mind, and as you walked, you were straying further away from the woods. 

As tall grass tickled your ankles, you silently prayed to your mother you wouldn’t stumble onto any harpy. The thought still emitted a dry chuckle from you, picturing the creature interrupting your smoking break in the middle of the night. If things went shit, you could always try to charmspeak them away. That would be, in fact, surprisingly entertaining.

Harpies rarely roamed around the beach. That was a reassuring thought to you — firstly because you weren’t too keen on the idea of fighting a monster so late at night, and secondly because that’s precisely where you were heading.

Before you knew it, the smell of salt had invaded your nostrils. The crisp touch of the sand underneath your feet made you shiver as you made your way to the shore, intending to sit down for a while — and enjoy your well-deserved cigarette. 

You put your hand down and shoved it in your pocket, instinctively expecting to get a hold of the familiar surface of your lighter. It was even more unexpected to realize there was no lighter to be found, sending your brain into a haze. The possibilities were endless. You could have either forgotten it in the cabin, accidentally dropped it into the tall grass as you were walking, or dropped it somewhere among the sand–

“Looking for something?”

You spinned around, eyes widening, looking up at the person the masculine voice belonged to.

Luke Castellan. Standing in front of you, holding the silver lighter, but not quite handing it to you. You got a weird sense of deja vu as you both scrutinized the other. 

His hair had definitely grown. The dark curls were more defined than you remembered them to be, and there was a new scar down the sight of his face. The sight made you raise a brow, and you met his eyes once again, examining them as much as the distance allowed you to. As a matter of fact, they looked pretty much the same, except for the lack of emotion. They looked weirdly bland, almost glacial, full of indifference. You weren’t used to him looking at you in such a manner.

“Thank you. I must have dropped it earlier.” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice neutral, hoping he would simply give you the object back, so you could both escape the awkward situation. You didn’t believe for a second he had accidentally found it and magically brought it to you at such a late hour of the night. You didn’t feel like confronting him about it anyways.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Luke stated, letting his deft fingers trace over the small object. Then, he lit it, as if he were checking if it did work. Was there a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice or had you imagined it? You were unsure.

“Happens, from time to time.”

The dry chuckle your ex-friend let out only left you made you grow more confused about whatever was happening. You were left with an uneasy feeling in the chest.

“Sure. Then, I guess you haven’t bought, like, three packs from Connor in less than a week.”

“It soothes me!” You defended yourself, feeling small under his disapproving glare. “Why do you keep records of who he sells cigs to, anyways?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you try to get into meditation, or some yoga shit, detox tea, guided hypnosis from Cabin 15, or anything else, really, for all I care? Why’d you have to destroy your health for some temporary relief?” The dark-haired boy snapped back, gradually rising in temper.

“I don’t know, maybe because, unless you haven’t noticed during all the years you’ve been stuck at camp, there’s not much to cope with here?” You mirrored his voice, hastily getting up from the small pile of sand you were sitting on.

“Oh, all right then, I get it.” He threw his arms in the air as he spoke, his brown eyes flashing in anger. “You’re a little depressed, but there’s no psychiatrist available here to help you fix your issues, so you choose to ignore the hell out of me and throw your health out the window instead. Real smart choice.”

Your mouth opened in shock, and before you knew it, your vision was blurred from the tears building up in your eyes. You felt your heart twist painfully in your chest at his insensitive words, and you choked back a sob.

“Why would it matter if I fuck up my health, wether that be to me, or to you? (You had to pause to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down from the mix of negative emotions invading your body.) “I’ll be dead in no more than ten years, maybe less— We’ll all be.” You inhaled, your voice cracking at the end of your sentence. “You know it.”

His brown eyes widened. Your two last sentences seemed to take out the anger out of his body, leaving the two of you in a heavy kind of silence. Luke’s face went from great anger to deep sadness. He took a step up, gradually lessening the distance between you two, and put his two arms on each of your shoulders. The boy knelt down, so the two of you were on eye-level. You were able to see every one of each of his features now.

“Don’t say that.” His voice was lower, and his brown eyes had considerably softened, and it’s as if you were back to when you first fell in love, about three months ago. “We can’t think of life as just an end, or we won’t live at all.”

Your eyes dropped to the sandy ground, unable to hold his gaze any longer. You hadn’t cried in so long that the sensation of the pearly tears dripping down your eyes felt almost foreign, to you. “I can’t help but think of it that way. Knowing our days are counted, threatened by the doings of the gods, is too much to bear, on most days.” You sniffled. “Makes me wonder if there’s truly a point living it all, and if it’s not better to try and lessen the pain as much as you can.” 

Luke was silent for a bit, reflecting onto what you just said, carefully picking out the words he was about to use next. “The one thing about being a demigod is that we’re fundamentally different compared to regular mortals.” He mindlessly wiped a tear off your face with his thumb. “We die young, and most of the time, terribly. This is what differentiates us significantly from mortals.”

You pursed your lips. “Is this how you think you’re gonna make me feel better?”

The dark-haired boy chuckled, a small smile etching its way on his lips. “No. Of course, it’s unfair, but what I mean is that not much mortal philosophy actually applies to us. We have to look up to those who worshipped the same gods we did. See— take Horace, and his whole Carpe Diem belief. He happened, in fact, to be quite right. We need to enjoy our days, live them to the fullest, and make the most of what we have.” He paused, looking away for a split second, before looking back up into your eyes. “You can’t just deny yourself from happiness. Not only you don’t deserve that, it’ll only make your existence as a demigod even more complicated than it already is.” Luke first hesitated before tucking a hair strand of yours behind your ear. “And, especially as a daughter of Aphrodite, you can’t deny yourself from love.” His voice was barely above a whisper now.

His words really resonated with you, for some reason. Of course, all your problems wouldn't disappear out of thin air thanks to his philosophical words, but they were all you needed to close the remaining distance between the two of you, crashing your lips against his. It was a bit bold, and indeed, it took Luke aback. He froze for a split second, but the camp counselor was quick to come to his senses. One hand went up to caress your jaw to deepen the kiss, almost desperately, and the other pulled you in his chest, a strong arm securing you against him. 

You were the first one to pull away, gasping up for air, and he begrudgingly imitated you, his dilated pupils betraying him. He let out a slight chuckle and ran a hand through his hair, trying to play it off cool.

“Didn’t expect you’d be taking my advice so soon.” The boy joked, still squeezing you against his side, practically towering over you. “I’m not complaining, though.” He hurriedly added.

“I didn’t know you’d gotten so wise. If I knew ignoring you would turn into a son of Athena, I would’ve given you silent treatment earlier.” 

Your playful words only made him press you into his side even more, until your cheeks were squished into his hard chest. It was actually quite enjoyable, except for the fact you’d probably end up suffocating and it would then ruin the romantic mood set between the two of you. “Don’t you dare. I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” He replied, a bit of a warning in his voice.  “Even if that means locking you up in the Hermes cabin and tying you down to my bed.”

That made you chuckle. It didn’t exactly sound like a bad situation to you, for numerous reasons, although you wouldn’t admit all of them out loud. Luke must have noticed the slight blush dusting your cheeks since a shit-eating grin appeared on his face. But before he could say anything about it, you spoke up. “I’m sorry. For pushing you away, for keeping you at distance. I—”

“It’s okay, I get it. I appreciate that you’re apologizing, but I’m not blaming you.” He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head, wrapping both his arms around your midsection. “I’m sorry, too, for the way I talked to you, earlier.”

“We’re good, then.”

“Never better.”

“ … ”

“ … ” 

“Does that mean I’m getting my lighter back?”

“Well-tried.”

----------------------------

© hclymoonsblog - Tumblr, 2024.

[radiance1]

You know I had this real random au I made on discord on my other account that I logged out of and subsequently lost!

Where Vlad was a priest and Plasmius is his contractually obligated partner.

Except, said contract is actually 50-50 all the way on the scale of a good deal, but meh.

So baaaaaaasically, Plasmius was (I think) a demon that appeared before Vlad while he was in the hospital suffering from Ecto-acne and basically gave him a:

"Bind yourself to me or die."

Offer.

Like, literally. Vlad became Plasmius' vessel in the mortal world and Vlad is free to live his life. Well, whenever Plasmius wasn't living his life that is.

Which is pretty rare but anyways.

Vlad was a goddamn workaholic who spent most of his time working away on whatever little thing he could, before the rest of that time was spent with Plasmius taking over his body and doing whatever he wanted.

Most of which, due to having a mortal vessel and not as durable as his demon body, ended up with Vlad being injured a few times than not before Plasmius got a grasp on what Vlad's body could and couldn't take, well, compared to his other human vessels he's had in the past of course.

Then, a few years later, or whatever, Vlad and Plasmius have been going around killing a multitude of priests. Mostly the ones that have a high position and the like, and having Vlad replace them and work there for a while.

Why?

Because Plasmius wanted to find a suitable vessel for his son.

Which Vlad was totally a-okay, the killing priests part and taking their place he means. Taking over their roles were surprisingly easy, and he's memorized enough verses that he could recite the entire thing back-to-back from book to book with no real difficulty.

Oh, and he also found how to make holy water! And he could even confidently say that it works because, hey! He's literally the guy being possessed right now, and if it works against him then it'll definitely work on your probably possessed child, miss Samantha!

(He doesn't tell about the demon possessing him part of course, because that would be more paint something that most surely works in a negative light.)

It quite literally never even became a thought in his mind to try and use said holy water against, well, you know. The literal demon possessing him.

But hey, Plasmius brought it up once and Vlad just gave him the most, blank-eyed stare he's ever seen, and then just moved on with his life.

And Plasmius?

Well shit, he's realized he's picked a wonderful vessel.

(Usually, they would try to eject or kill him at their first opportunity, which is quite rude since he helped. But y'know, past is past and what not.)

So then comes time, after Vlad's like, 25th switcharoo they managed to find a picture perfect vessel for Plasmius' son, and he's like:

Plasmius: Kill him.

Vlad: What-

Like, kill priests? Sure no problem Vlad legit does not care, but killing a child? Not something he can do, he gets some shade for his decision, of course, but he's adamant about it.

So Plasmius, powerful demon from hell who is used to taking what he wants.

Lets him.

At the cost of the boy becoming his son's newest and first ever vessel of course.

And Vlad was kinda on the fence about this, but due to the contract- in which he stated that he'll do anything so long as he lives- is, well, there, he had to chose between the two.

And that, was how one young Daniel Fenton, was made the vessel of demon going by the name of Phantom.

Of course, he wasn't happy about such a thing, but it was going to happen eventually, so at least compared to the original plan he'll live.

(Can't remember if Danny's fam was alive or not here, so I'll just say they dead as hell in that Nasty Burger explosion. Cept it was more of a celebration thing, and Danny was running a little late on his way there and then BOOM.)

Vlad tries to make Danny as comfortable as possible after the possession, and of course Danny isn't happy about it, give all three of them snark and sass and being a genuine little shit. Except Phantom doesn't like that, and since Danny is the equivalent of a newly gotten toy, it doesn't end well for him.

Mostly, in the form of numerous injuries that leads to Plasmius lecturing his son about how fragile mortals are and some- looking at Vlad- even more fragile than some others

You know, since he was trapped in a bed for years and all that.

So then Plasmius and Danny wander around, dragging their vessels along behind them. Vlad and Danny do get a quiet a bit closer during this time, Vlad explaning that hey, he didn't want to subject a child to his fate, but it was either that or death so.

And that kinda thaws the ice a little between them.

Vlad says that it'll eventually get better, he's been at this for years and Plasmius regards him as either his most loyal henchmen.

Which is an upgrade from being viewed as a pet since he can actually add his opinions now, well, he could before but now Plasmius would actually take them into consideration if Vlad doesn't wanna do this or that.

Danny is very obviously bummed out about that, and also kinda pitying Vlad but is also still dealing with the trauma of his family and friends exploding and then having to share (Not really even THAT) a body with a demon who leaves him injured far more often than not because of his stunts.

Well, you could say he isn't having a good time.

Then, cut to a while later, and Vlad managed to make these things that allow for them to be separated, but not past a certain point.

Why?

Because Vlad was getting tired about Plasmius' wants for his body getting in the way of working through Vladco (a business idea he pitched and Plasmius backed once he found out he needed money) and there's only so much mental calculations he could do before he tries to find a way around this.

Plasmius thought that Vlad was finally about to do the expected 'fight back against the possessor' and was even a little hurt, before realizing that no, said thought still hasn't crossed his host's mind and he's just upset that he couldn't work on Vladco because of Plasmius' need of his body.

Plasmius, once again. Realized he picked a wonderful host, though this time he thinks there may be a little something wrong with him.

But that's okay, he still loves his henchmen regardless.

Meanwhile, Danny and Phantom are ecstatic, more so Phantom than Danny, and instantly use them. Thankfully, unlike the rings Vlad and Plasmius have, they have bracelets, the point extends city wide comfortably, a fair bit while past that if they strain it though.

So, Danny has been having the best time of his life now, able to spend it doing normal teen things instead of stunts that'll injure him or kill him and having fun.

Phantom?

Well.

He joined the Super scene.

If I remember correctly, he was a hero and his father played the villain, mostly because Phantom wanted to play as a hero, but he didn't have a nemesis like everyone else or something so-

Then for Phantom and Dann's birthday (Phantom kinda declared Danny's birthday his because it was the day he came to the mortal plane), Plasmius decided to kidnap various heroes to participate in an escape game that's really just an elaborate ploy for said party.

Some balloons here and there, confetti, a few gifts and a lot of things you wouldn't expect when kidnapped by a villain. Then at the end there was a birthday cake and a Happy birthday sign hung up there.

Then a Tv turned on and it showed Plasmius, sitting there in a classic villain chair with Vlad standing next to him- a surprise to most heroes there since Vladco was relatively clean actually- and then Plasmius going Happy birthday and then waving over at Vlad saying that he planned most of it.

Kidnapping various heroes was his idea, of course.

But everything else, from the design of each room to the traps to gifts and all of that, and Phantom excitedly shouts a thanks Dad and Papa, with Danny giving a quieter thanks Dad, which leaves the two of them shocked. Then Vlad, who was currently standing to Plasmius' side and working through Vladco investments and business opportunities, tries to play it cool but everyone (heroes included) can see the pink dusting his ears.

While Plasmius is just laughing his ass off at Vlad's reaction.

That's all I can remember right now, of course with a few tweaks here and there because, well, you can probably tell why.

Oh right, there was also this funny thing where, because of the matching rings that Vlad made and the two were wearing. The heroes thought they were married lmao.

[b1ackgh0st]

Writing as many HCs for Trolls characters as humanly possible!

Starting off strong with the Snack Pack + Poppy & Branch!

♡Poppy♡

She was a later bloomer. Most (pop) trolls have a little bit of tit, but she was flat as Branch's voice at the beginning of the first movie.

Had a toxic best friend at one point. Nobody liked Poppy when she was young, but as soon as she became an adult, she was mote liked than anyone else.

Prefers black coffee over any other kind

Her favorite flavour is strawberry!

Even though she likes almost any flavour, any candy she has that's lemon or watermelon she gives to Branch because he is very addicted.

Speaking of which, she can't stomach spicy food at all and tends to projectile vomit.

Gets sick pretty easily, but won't admit it.

No one knows how she does it, but she can appear almost instantly. Whether it's in Branch's room at midnight or behind anyone in a crowded area, it's alarming.

Not physically violent.

However...

Poppy is deranged AF!

She will verbally and mentally threaten people... and lord it's probably scary.

Too much of a morning person

By that, I mean she wakes up at around 3 am everyday after falling asleep at around 7 pm and starts her daily routine.

Refuses to wear make-up

Has never had acne or anything similar

Most Pop Trolls, Poppy included, have extream hair growth. She has to shave her legs daily.

Has literally no skincare routine

Unfortunately, she has to make her own shampoo because anything she can find in shops doesn't work and just causes dead ends and very greasy hair.

Very fidgety ADHD-er

□Branch□

Branch has the most excessive skincare routine ever

Wears A LOT of makeup to hide scars and stuff

Breaks out really easily

Autistic! Not Yay!

Or maybe it is Yay

Anyways, he had problems with bright lights, loud sounds, being close to other people, some kinds fo texture, and some scents

Has around seventy homemade candles around the bunker, all scented slightly different.

Most of them smell like citrus

Sucks at making coffee at home, therefore his coffee orders are pretty specific.

Despite going back onto society, he's still a feral troll.

Which means that, while pop trolls are omnivores who need lots of plants and sweets in their diet, Branch's diet is almost exclusively meat, sweets, and breads.

Has bitten Poppy before. (It was an accident, I promise. No trolls were harmed.)

While he may not overreact on safty stuff or the Bergens anymore, he' started overreacting to everything else.

Oh, Guy tripped and scraped his knee? GET HIM TO THE DOCTOR HE'S DYING!

Mr. Dinkles is lost again? HE COULD BE ANYWHERE WE'LL NEVER MIND HIM!

Yeah.

Insomniac, unfortunately.

Biggie!!

Eats bugs. (Small stuff like ants)

Also kind of deranged.

Or he had some undiagnosed mental stuff

Prefers tea

Also has ADHD

I ddont really have much since he's pretty perfect when it comes to the movies and his character-

SMIDGE

Oldest in the gang, actually

She's thirty-eight, and witness Poppy hatching UP CLOSE

Poppy kind of sees her as a mother figure, mostly because Poppy never had a mother.

Smidge tried to have a kid once (yes, it was Milton's.), but it was a miscarriage

Her short stature and abnormal strength is actually a very rare genetic phenomenon

She used to have a really smooth, "feminine" voice,but after years of working out and screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice is scratchy now

Wants to do speech therapy to try and get her old voice back, but... well, Pop Village doesn't have stuff like that.

Has low self-esteem

Has been married to Milton for about a year (By the end of TBT)

Only drinks energy drinks, always Cherry flavour. (Or something similar)

Just a little crazy, but aren't we all?

The reason she's so close to Poppy is because right before the tunnel thing to get away from the Bergens, she worked with Peppy.

Won't continue with that.

Enjoys playfully bullying Suki because she's the only one who doesn't take it seriously.

Guy Diamond ◇

Oh man

Did NOT get enough attention as a kid

His parents were either too busy, and were both taken while running through the tunnels

Sky Toronto (From TBGO and Trollstopia) is his uncle, but neither of them know that

The only clothes he'd ever wear would be a scarf and leg warmers, maybe gloves.

Either he just dislikes it or he's genuinely afraid of it, he won't drink alcohol.

Secretly likes to eat things that aren't really edible

Also, scroll past this if you wanna because imma explain how it's not awkward that the glitter trolls are almost all naked.

So, since Glitter trolls are a subspecies, one which probably derived from a tribe long ago, their anatomy is a little different

They have protective slits that hide their genitals until needed

Essentially, the glitter trolls that have dicks.. their disks are hidden kn that slit, and will start to come out when said glitter troll is aroused.

For the one that don't, the slit will just start to open on it's own

Having a cock or not doesn't decide the gender of a Pop Troll, BTW!!

Cooper & Darnell

Darnell yassified him.

He ended up with silver tattoos on one arm, multiple silver bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, and silver dread cuffs

C & D spend a lot of time together

C had a hard time deciding, but ultimately chose to stay woth the Funk Tribe and his family rather than with the Pop Trolls

He stolll visits them <3

I'll make more later, dw.

[not-a-big-slay]

Natural

tangerine x fem!reader

summary: lemon catches his brother lying about his relationship, when he witnesses a glimpse of their every-day conversation....

type: fluff

warnings: swearing, very bad attempt to write an english slang

a/n: ATJ can do things to me... I've got this idea in my english class when we were talking about chores lmaoo, now yall know where my mind is at in school. anyway, i need to catch up on andor and avatar, cuz im kinda falling behind. enjoy this fic and if you like it pls comment something, it always makes my day :))

Lemon sighed at the look of another set of stairs in front of him. His brother told him it'll be the last one a few stories ago and if he wasn't already separated from him by the stairs, he would dismember him.

"That gal of yours better be Rapunzel." Lemon said once he caught up with Tangerine. He smiled and led him through a hallway. "She ain't my girl, Lemon." he confessed and kept walking while Lemon frowned. That didn't sound right. "Oh, of course not, she's just a friend you've been living with for this past month, isn't she?". Tangerine rolled his eyes. She was, of course, more than that, but calling her his sounded wrong. They never talked about this stuff, they just let them happen. "It ain't like that, it's just.." he couldn't find the right words for it and that frustrated him. Their moments was the only positive thing in his life right now and he didn't want to dig too much into it, worrying it'll be destroyed by his overthinking.

"Just fuck off, okay? I ain't intrested in your nit-picking, alright? You're lucky I'm even bringing you" he sighed and stopped in front of a door, leaning in the door frame. Tangerine had sudden second thoughts. Would she like to be introduced to his brother? Is it okay for their situation or is it too far? He would hate to scare her away, but she already heard about Lemon, so maybe it would be okay. He brought his hand to his mustache and caressed it around, deep in thought.

"Can she sense your presence or are you gonna knock?"

He almost jumped at his brother's voice that was too close to his ear. He turned to him, sending him to hell with his expression, but knocked as he requested. His heart was beating, a unfamiliar nervousness settling onto him. He was never nervous around her. In fact, this was the only place that he could truly relax in. He hated that Lemon ruined it by his stupid nosy questions. He took a deep breath and exhaled at the sound of the door opening.

The stress left him when he saw her eyes shining back at him. Her slightly raised eyebrows studied him, but her sweet smile was present as always, he had to show off his own too. "Did you forget your keys? Come in." she turned and walked inside, closing the door behind Lemon. "Hi there." he said with a nervous smile. Y/N was pretty, he didn't expect that, even though Tangerine said it quite a million times. He thought that Tangerine's pretty standard meant hot for others, but Y/N wasn't hot, not exactly. It seemed to him she was a softy, although he knew better than to believe that. She had a bit of acne on her skin, but that just added to her prettiness. She was cute, not hot, but really beautiful.

"You must be Lemon, right?" she assumed and he just nodded. She shook his hand and said: "Good, now I have most of vitamins in my house. Make yourself at home.". Lemon looked around the apartment. It was small, but cozy. The kitchen was tiny and it connected to the living room, made of one couch, a coffee table, a TV and two armchairs. All of it complimented each other colorfully. Tangerine came back from the bedroom, as Lemon assumed, holding the briefing papers they came for. Their next job started soon and Lemon has yet to read them.

"Alright, here it is." he said and handed his brother the lists, then turned to Y/N. "The window's broken by the way." he pointed to the room with his thumb and watched the girl setting down her cup of coffee. "Oh, I wanted to tell you, it happened this morning. Would you check it later?" he nodded when he heard her pleading voice. She always thought she bothered him when asking these questions when the opposite was the truth. "Yeah, sure. And we should buy more food, there's nothing here." he added, earning an agreeable nod from Y/N. "Yeah, I can do that, but first I'll mop the bathroom, it's about time I think." she spoke. Lemon returned his gaze back at the two.

"Right. Oh and give Emma the red wine I told you about." Lemon's eyes snapped on Tangerine when the words left his mouth. "Who the hell is Emma?" he asked him, but Y/N answered first. "She's just a neighbor, she helped us with the couch, so we wanted to thank her.". Lemon couldn't believe what he was hearing. His brother, an assasin, a total dickhead, thanked someone with a bottle of wine for moving a couch. "Tang, will you help me with the dishes one you're back?" Y/N said when she put the cup into a sink. "Of course, love. We gotta go now, though." he aknowledge the time and walked back to the door, stopping next to frozen Lemon that couldn't still comprehend what has happened just now. "You coming?" Tangerine spat and made his way outside, Lemon following slowly behind, waving to Y/N nervously. She waved back before her eyes widened with realization. "Oh! Tangerine!"

The man turned around, watching her swiftly walking up to them, holding a full trash bag. "Will you please take it out?". Once he nodded, she handed it to him and gave a small kiss on his cheek. She smiled a bit and said goodbye. "It was great meeting you, Lemon." she exclaimed and Lemon returned her words before the door closed again. Lemon then stared at Tangerine until he sighed and finally asked, stopping in his tracks: "What?". Lemon only widened his eyes more. "What do you think? What was that supposed to be?" he laughed at the absurdity of his brother's obliviousness. "Bruv, this ain't no talking stage, you're bloody married."

Tangerine scoffed at that. It wasn't like that. He lived with her for a while now, because of death threats he and Lemon recieved. They thought it would be better to separate for a bit, until it dozes off. Y/N was one of their old intel and helped them with a job once. Even though she wasn't an assasin, she gathered information for a lot of them and sold them for quite good money. He reached out to her then and they've been living together since. Lemon said that they can come out of the hiding now, but he didn't move back in with him, and doesn't plan on to.

He couldn't deny there wasn't something between them, but he wouldn't call it dating, Yes, they sleep in the same bed. They cook together and drink wine together and they are concerned when something in the house broke. Y/N treats his wounds from jobs and he returns her kidness in bed. Yet they have never talked about it. It just happens one time. Their first kiss was on the balcony, late at night when none of them wanted to sleep. It was a clear decision, he wanted to do that and she as well. He was so certain of it and it just came naturally. The next morning no one uttered a word of it, but she kissed him during breakfast, smoothly, as if it was a normal thing to do, just natural. And thus everything else began, every next step came in its own time, both of them weren't trying to take it, they knew when it was time to do so. Everything between them was clear.

Y/N told him she loved him, as if it was an obvious thing to say. He said it back two days later, feeling certain of it. Lemon didn't understand their connection and he wasn't right to assume so.

"You��ve got it wrong, Thomas." he walked pass him and out of the building. The goal was to anger Lemon with a bad reference to his favorite show, but he laughed out loud and confidently followed Tangerine out. "Does she know that, though?"

She was his girl.

Tangerine rolled his eyes and went to throw out the trash. Lemon won't get it, but as long as they were sure, he couldn't give a shit about his opinion.

However he had to admit one thing he said.

‎

[k4shixe]

Hi! Can I request Blue Lock's Reo, Kunigami and Karasu with a chubby reader who's confident and actively works on themselves? Like they go to the gym, study, take care of their skin and stuff?

Blue Lock Boys With a s/o That Activity Works On Themselves

Staring; Reo Mikage, Rensuke Kunigami, Tabito Karasu from blue lock

Pairings; Reo x gn!reader, Kinigami x gn!reader, Karasu x gn!reader

CW; fluff, teasing, chubby reader, working out, cooking, maybe not accurate representations of characters (I haven’t watched the anime), mentions of school and studing ;P

Reo Mikage

* When Reo first started dating you he didnt care about how you looked, to him you were perfect but he did tease you about your weight a little which quickly got shut down when you got upset

* He apologised profusely for because he loves you

* You forgave him but even since it stuck with you so you decided to start working out but for yourself and not for anyone else

* When Reo found out he thought it was because of him but you reassured him it was for you

* Ever since you started going to the gym you decided to start investing on skin care even though you were on of those lucky girls who didnt get much acne

* You started becoming more organised and started to cook more healthier meals and cleaning more regularly

* Reo was super impressed, he never hated how you were but he couldn’t lie he was loving the new change

* You started getting into soccer as well so you and Reo could have a hobby in common since cooking “wasnt his thing” as he had a chef anyways

* You didnt play competitively even though Reo was always praising you and complementing how well you play but you did join a club which played some games every now and then

* Overall Reo and you have a new hobby in common and be even got into cooking a little after you made him help you make a meal for his team (you teased him after) <3

Rensuke Kunigami

* After hitting you with the ball once during practice, he ran over to you to help pick up your dropped books

* He was confused why you were studying even when there were no exams or tests near

* You told him it was better for you and invited him for a study session which he agreed too

* After that you guys started dating where he learned a lot more about you such as how you were a clean freak and avoided eating fast food

* You wore a little bit of makeup to just touch up yourself and always kept your self clean

* He was even surprised how you ate so calmly even if you were in a rush

* He had to ask you for a few tips on cooking too just because you make the best food he’s had

* You joined him in practice a few times, just the two of you, and it made for great dates

* One day when you were cooking he went into your room and tried your skin care

* When you found him glowing brightly under you lamp you found it as a sign to get him skin care

* Best investment everrr

* Hes looking 10 times better then usual and best part is hes all yours

* Hes embarrassed when you compliment him but he always thanks you and gives you a hug in the end <3

Tabito Karasu

* You guys first spoke to each other when you were both paired up for a project

* He didnt understand how someone could be so into studying

* You ignored his remarks and told him his part of the project before leaving

* He ran up to you later and asked if he could study with you as well as do the project to which you agreed only so you could supervise how he was doing his part of the project

* He came over to your house and observed how neat and clean it was

* No spec of dust in sight

* He also noticed the weights you have at home which he didnt realised you worked out until he really thought about it

* He couldn’t lie, he liked seeing this side of you and after a few more study sessions and a date here and there you guys officially started dating

* He always asked for a bite of your food as it was “more fresh” or “it was better for him” as they were always home made and healthy

* When he came over to your house at night, he always dreaded the part where you would start doing you skin care which would take hours (actually a couple of minutes)

* You convinced him one day to try it and suddenly you had gotten him into skin care which he couldn’t complain as now he was the one always taking long to do it

* He always joined you when studying as he said it was “motivation” but you’d somehow end up on the couch watching a movie in the end <3

A/n; hello! Thank you so much for the request! Sorry if the characters are written in a way that they dont act as I haven’t watched the anime yet but I hope you like it!

[raplinesmoon]

Turn Back Time (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

warnings: bodyswap au (kind of), alternating pov, teenage insecurities, bullying, Seokjin is confused, mention of sports injury, thirst, mentions of hangover, sassy thirteen year olds, mentioned infidelity (not between main characters), cheating (like in sports), swearing, angsty confessions, smut warnings: nudity, Seokjin pops a semi at the wrong time, soft!dom Jin, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected s*x (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 13.3k a/n: a very happy early 30th bday to our WWH! This is my submission for the Catch of The Century collab hosted by myself, @joheunsaram, and @kithtaehyung! I was super excited writing the role reversal with Seokjin, and 13 Going On 30 is only one of my favorite movies ever (seriously, it never misses on every single rewatch). I also just miss Jin so much T_T I hope you all enjoy 💜 also ty to Mars for beta-reading this as well!

listen to the playlist here!

The envelope crinkles as it’s handed to Seokjin, and his heart drops before he can even pause his iPod and yank his earbuds out, the Black Eyed Peas providing the soundtrack to his humiliation. 

Sighing, he looks at his face twisted mid-expression, half-smile and half-grimace, the metal of his braces glinting against the camera flash, and wonders why the photographer had even bothered counting down if he wasn’t going to wait for him to smile for the photo anyway. Not to mention the packet had been inappropriately labeled “Suckjin”. His eomma would be so disappointed. Looking around, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose before shoving the damn thing into his backpack, where it hopefully wouldn’t see the light of day for a few more hours.

“Kim!”

Seokjin bites back a groan at the voice bellowing in the hallway, turning to see Jackson Wang and his posse of baseball boys strolling up to him. He and Jackson weren’t friends, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but it wasn’t like they hated each other either. They had a mutual agreement - Seokjin would offer to do Jackson’s algebra homework for the semester, and Jackson promised him a try-out spot for the school’s baseball team.

To Seokjin, it was worth it. The baseball team was at the height of status in their janky middle school - everyone knew the players on the team were the coolest, sporting the finest threads walking through the hallways, and tipping their caps to make the girls scream. But it was more than that - for as long as he could remember, Seokjin had always been the lame kid. The one that faded into the background, hiding his acne-laden face under his mop of dark hair, constantly fiddling with his glasses. He hated that.

For once, he wanted to be the special one. The one who hit the winning home run at the game, the one who made all his fellow students and teachers scream with joy, who brought the school to victory. Then no one would ever forget him again. And now, with a try-out spot on the horizon, he finally got his chance.

“Did you hear about that new chick that moved here?” Jackson’s laugh interrupts Seokjin’s stream of intrusive thoughts, and he shoves his iPod into his book. “She’s supposed to be hot stuff.”

“Dude, you should totally hit her up,” DK, one of Jackson’s cronies, eggs him on with a guffaw. Jackson waves him away with an annoyed look, telling them he needs to talk to Seokjin for a second.

His tall, muscular figure looms over Seokjin’s scrawny one, the hard surface of the locker meeting his back.

“Sooo, I know try-outs were supposed to be tonight,” Jackson drawls, looking Seokjin over. “Big day, right?”

He’s unable to respond with anything but a gulp, knowing something was up. It always was with Jackson.

“Well, stupid Mr. Kang decided that we’d have a take-home assignment, and it’s due at the end of the week. I hate to cancel tryouts, I know how much you were looking forward to them, but we’ve gotta bust our asses for this, you know how it is.”

“I-, I could do the assignment for you,” Seokjin blurts out, finally summoning the bravery to speak. This was his once chance. He couldn’t screw it up now. 

“Excellent,” Jackson’s eyes glint with mischief, his head turning to regard Seokjin with interest. He claps him on the back, the force of his palm causing Seokjin to sputter, before walking away with a wink.

“See ya later, Kim!”

The bell rings, and Seokjin immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, changing out of the argyle patterned vest that his mother had put him in for picture day, and into his well-loved, too-large pair of Nike gym shorts that he’d found for $3 at Goodwill. Looking in the dusty mirror, he checks himself out, making sure he looked the exact part of a baseball player. His unruly hair sticks up everywhere. Sighing in frustration, Seokjin lets the water under the sink run, wetting his hands and combing it back until it lays off his face.

Great, now he looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a week.

“Baseball try-outs?” a voice next to him squeaks, and he turns to see another kid right next to him, shorter by an inch or two, his heart-shaped smile looking up at him.

“You too?” he asks the kid, who erupts into giggles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Nahhhh, it’s the dance team for me, I’m Hobi by the way,” he reaches out his hand for Seokjin to shake. Seokjin takes the hand with hesitation. Hobi seemed nice, if not a little weird. He reminded Seokjin of himself.

“Dance team? Isn’t that kind of lame though?”

“What do you mean?” Hobi asks him with curious eyes. “It’s not any more lame than following around Jackson Wang and his posse of meatheads. It’s more original.” 

Hobi straightens up when he sees the clock, the time hitting both of them.

“Oop! I gotta go, I’ll see you later dude! Good luck with try-outs!” he waves Seokjin goodbye, rushing out the door.

Hobi’s words about being original weigh heavily on Seokjin, and he wonders if doing all this would be worth it in the end. After a few minutes of contemplation, Seokjin decides it is. He doesn’t want to be original, he thinks, he just wants to be cool. 

“Seokjinnie! Show Eomma the pictures,” his mom pinches his cheeks, one hand on the steering wheel. Seokjin scowls, wishing she’d hurry up. They were going to be late for tryouts. 

“Eomma, can you please just give it a break?” he grumbles, but she reaches into his bag anyway, peeking at the envelope with the preview.

“Oh, you look sooo handsome my boy!” she coos, beaming at the photo of him with his braces showing. Was she for real?

“Eomma, stop calling me that! I hate my life,” he whines, slumping into his seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his most treasured baseball card, Albert Pujols staring him back in the face. Why couldn’t he be more like his hero? Not the awkward, bumbling thirteen-year-old Seokjin that he was, but an all-star.

“I wish I was thirty,” he sighs, and he watches his Eomma purse her lips.

“Seokjinnie,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot of the baseball field. “Eomma loves you very much, you know that, right? Whether you’re thirteen or thirty.”

She presses a wet kiss to his cheek, her lipstick leaving a faint pink smudge on him.

“Eomma ewwww!” he groans but hugs her anyway with a smile. He knew he’d come home to a warm bowl full of kimchi jjigae tonight.

“Good luck!!” her voice fades off into the distance as Seokjin descends into the dugout where the locker rooms were, ready to give this his best shot.

.  . . 

The sun trickles through the small windows of the dugout, the grey specks of dust flitting through the air. It’s empty. Seokjin walks through, realizing there’s no one there. Did he come at the wrong time?

Pacing around the room, he looks for something, anything that would indicate the team had been here, a spare bat, or maybe a jersey somewhere. But his heart sinks when he realizes there was nothing. He’d been such a fool.

“Ohhhh Kimmmm,” a voice says from the shadows, and Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Turning around, he sees Jackson’s figure looming at the door, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

“Jackson, what’s going on, where’s everybody—” Seokjin begins, only to be cut off by Jackson howling in laughter.

“Poor guy,” he mutters, stalking towards Seokjin with a menacing gleam in his eyes. “Did you really think those tryouts were real? That we’d let a lame-o like you on the team? You’re more stupid than I thought.”

Seokjin feels like he’s being eaten alive on the inside, shame and humiliation coming over him in waves, his head slumping forward to stare at the ground while Jackson’s words ring loud and clear in the back of his mind.

“I don’t get it, I did the report for you, you said I–, I’d have a chance this year,” he stutters, Jackson backing him up against the lockers. 

Jackson picks up a dusty baseball mitt off the ground, shoving it into Seokjin’s hands before pushing him into the locker, the door slamming shut and caging him in darkness.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. You’re just not cool enough.”

. . . 

Seokjin doesn’t know how long he bangs against the door of the locker, knuckles raw and bleeding from being cut by the metal. His voice has gone hoarse from screaming for help, knowing that he’s out of luck for a few hours.

He hated everyone - Jackson, the team, all his classmates at school who made him feel like he was worth nothing. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to get out of here, and to finally be somebody he was proud of.

Bile rises up in his throat as he looks at the dilapidated baseball mitt in his hands. He wants to fling it off into oblivion, its presence only reminding him of how silly he’d been to believe that things would be different. 

Still, it was all he had, and so he clutched it to his chest, blowing off the dust, rocking back and forth in order to comfort himself as the sun began to set outside.

“I just wanna be thirty,” he whispers into the darkness before his eyes shut and he finally falls asleep.

Seokjin snorts in the middle of his slumber, shifting around to make himself more comfortable, when all of a sudden, he feels himself land on a hard surface with a thud. Cursing, he rubs his shoulder, standing up but tripping on the edge of something soft. 

His eyes open sleepily, but it’s still dark. Grumbling, he palms at his face, eventually finding the edge of something covering his eyes. A blindfold? How had that gotten there? Lifting it off, light floods his vision, and his heart stops.

The room around him was very unfamiliar - he catches sight of the rug he’d tripped on moments ago, his eyes traveling up to the sleek bed made out of dark wood with its rumpled sheets. This wasn’t his room. Where were all the baseball posters? And his GameCube in the corner? And his desk with his iMac?

There was only one answer for this - he’d been kidnapped. Panicking, Seokjin fumbles with the doorknob, stumbling into the hallway of the apartment, his eyes widening and heart racing at the even more unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Eomma?” he calls out, padding down the hallway and taking in the sparse decorations. “Appa?”

He pauses when he sees a poster on the wall, a scantily clad woman in what can only be described as a provocative pose, and his cheeks flush with heat. He turns his eyes away quickly, feeling like he’s violating someone’s privacy.

The living room is even more strange, full of black furniture and far neater than Seokjin’s room had ever been. His eyes widen at the large flat-screen TV that sits in the corner, and he lets out a soft *wow* at the thought of being able to watch baseball games on there. 

He turns to look around more, only to come face-to-face with a mirror. But the person staring back at him isn’t Seokjin. This person was not a thirteen-year-old with acne, a mouth full of braces, and dorky wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like one of those models on magazine covers, with hair pushed back from his face, skin clearer than the water at the beach, and a jawline that could cut glass.

He screams at the unfamiliar face, thinking there’s an intruder in the house with him. He staggers backward, tripping on the raised entrance to the living room, and falling flat on his back. Pain explodes across the back of his head, and he wants to cry.

From elsewhere in the apartment, he hears a door click, and he peers over at the mirror again. He freezes when he realizes there is no other intruder. The figure in the mirror moves the same way he does, copying his exact movement, and Seokjin brings a hand to his face, seeing it rest on the jawline of the attractive reflection.

That was him. He was the man. Was this some kind of dream? Or an alternate reality? He tests the waters, feeling around his face, tugging at the skin to see if it was some sort of costume. His hands fly to his chest, realizing that he’s shirtless, and he’s amazed by the muscles he finds underneath his palms.

“What is happening?” he hyperventilates, shocked at the deep voice that comes out, so unlike his own. “What is going on?”

His anxiety increases as he begins to pace around the apartment, coaxing himself to breathe and relax and take a seat. He’d find a way out of this.

Plopping onto the leather sofa, something on the coffee table catches his eye. It’s a letter, and he pales when he sees the name on the envelope. 

It’s his. Kim Seokjin. But that’s not his address. Frantically, he sifts through the mail, growing even paler when he sees all the letters are addressed to him, and that they’re being sent to this same address. He lived here.

The sofa creaks as he rises up abruptly, searching anywhere he can for a phone. Finding it in the corner, he dials his parents’ number, silently praying they hadn’t changed it. His Appa’s voice greets him on the phone, saying that they were currently away in Korea, but they’d be back at the end of this month, and he lets out a heavy sigh. He was alone.

Seokjin thinks this is the weirdest dream he’s ever been in, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the sink turning on in what he can only assume is the bathroom in this place. 

“Seokjin, babe?” a female voice calls out from behind the door, and he jumps back, terror seizing him. This must be the strange woman who kidnapped him! She was probably some kind of weirdo, why was she calling him babe?

Seokjin searches for something, anything he can use to protect himself, settling on an umbrella in the corner. 

“I-, I know you’re there,” his voice wobbles as he yells out to the woman. “My parents are gonna be home soon!”

The door creaks open and out steps a woman. The first thing Seokjin can think of is legs. So much leg, peeking out at him from underneath a fluffy white towel. And then he screams again. Because she’s naked under there. 

“Babe, where’s the conditioner?” she asks him, crossing her arms. Her chest is emphasized by this action, and Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. This was inappropriate. He had to get out of here now!

“Come join me!” her voice fades into the background as he runs, grabbing the first coat and the first pair of shoes he sees in the entryway. The stairs of the unfamiliar building wind around him as he descends, his head spinning, and before he knows it, he’s through a golden set of doors and out onto a busy city street.

A strange buzzing comes from his pocket and Seokjin yelps. Was he being attacked? Had the government bugged him?

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you hear that?” he says frantically, pointing to his pocket. “Do you hear the buzzing?”

The woman passes him by without a second glance. 

“Kim!” a voice calls out to him. “Get your ass over here!”

Seokjin turns to the sound of the voice and stops in his tracks when he sees the person calling out to him. 

It’s Jackson Wang, all suited up for practice. But he’s not the Jackson Seokjin remembers, his tall looming figure from their middle school only growing more intimidating with the amount of Jackson has built over the years. The man chatters away on the phone angrily, gesturing for Seokjin to get in the car. What kind of world had he found himself in?

“I-, I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Seokjin says confidently, turning away from Jackson’s grabby hands. The man scoffs.

“Can you please just get in bro? We don’t have time for this, we’re gonna be late.”

“BAAABEEE?” Seokjin hears the voice from the apartment again, looking up to see the woman from the apartment calling down to him, now wearing a bra. She blows him kisses and giggles. He definitely did not want to be stuck with her. 

His head feels like it’s gonna explode, caught between two horrifying situations. But right now even though it was Jackson, the dude in front of him seemed less weird, and so, he falls over into the seat of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

During the car ride, Seokjin peers through the windows of the car, taking in the bright lights and busy streets of the city around him. He’s in awe. He never imagined being somewhere like this before. 

“Dude, I know I’m your best friend, but you’re acting a little weird, even for me,” Jackson says next to him, and Seokjin straightens up, looking over at him. His best friend? Maybe he had all the answers to what was going on.

“We’re really best friends?” he asks, and the man snickers in response. “Something really weird is happening to me.”

“Oh god,” Jackson groans. “Did you finally get a girl pregnant?”

Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Pregnant? He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, how could he get someone pregnant?

“NO!” Seokjin blurts out. “No, no, no, it’s even weirder! I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, and there was a naked girl in my bathroom and I almost saw her boobs!”

He finishes with an exhale, but the car comes to a screeching halt at the exact same time, the other man not even saying a word before he gets out.

“W-wait,” Seokjin runs after him. “Please don’t leave me here, just listen to me, I’m thirteen years old–”

“If you’re gonna start lying about your age, Kim, I’d make sure it was something legal at least,” Jackson smirks, walking ahead of him on the street.

“I know it sounds weird, but strange things are happening to me, like, like that!!”

The buzzing in Seokjin’s pocket starts again, and he freaks out, spinning in a circle as he tries to locate the source. 

“Would you stop it?” Jackson pulls something out of Seokjin’s pocket. It’s a shiny, flat, metallic object that continues to buzz in his hands. “It’s probably just Coach.”

“C-coach? Who Coach? What Coach?” He feels like his head is about to explode. 

The phone is held to Seokjin’s ear.

“HEY BAABEEE!” A voice drawls on the other end, and Seokjin screams, throwing the phone to his companion.

“Get her away from me!” he yelps.

“Okay, listen to me!” Jackson roars, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. “You need to calm down. We have a team meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to tell you what to do, you just need to repeat after me.”

“Ok,” Seokjin says, taking a deep breath.

“I am Kim Seokjin, star batsman for the Eagles. I am a tough bastard, and I’m gonna walk into the stadium and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“I’m–” Seokjin prepares to repeat the words, but stops when he hears the rest of them. “I AM?”

But Jackson is already gone, disappearing behind the double doors that lead to a stadium Seokjin never thought he’d find himself going into. The Eagles. His dream team.

Seokjin follows Jackson through the stadium, oohing and ahhing at all the different banners and pieces of sports memorabilia that are on display. This has to be the wildest field trip he’s ever been on.

The man next to him scoffs.

“It’s not like you come here every day,” he chuckles, sarcasm seeping into his voice.

“I DO?” Seokjin can’t believe his ears. 

The two of them walk through, scores of people greeting Seokjin and wishing him a good morning. He doesn’t know any of them, their faces all unfamiliar. But they knew him. They knew him and they loved him. He was a star.

“There he is, our star batsman!!” a voice bellows, and Seokjin is attacked by a man throwing him into the biggest bear hug.

“Coach,” Jackson whispers.

“Coach!” Seokjin repeats with a squeak, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. “You’re my coach!”

“That’s right kiddo, who’s your daddy?” the man chortles, and Seokjin responds with eagerness.

“His name is Kim— ow!” He’s cut off by a sharp jab to his chest. 

He follows the two men into the dugout, surprised to see a room full of men wearing Eagles jerseys. The team. This was the team. He was on their team!

Seokjin buzzes with excitement, waving hello to all the players with a bounce in his step. They all look at him with concern etched in their features, and the guy he came with urges him to sit down in a cubby. The shiny letters of “4 Kim” greet him, etched on the plaque that adorns the space, and a weird feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He’d made it.

“Team,” Coach clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room, the commotion dying down. “We need to get it together. The Hawks have consistently outplayed us in every game of the season this year, and they’ve been using our own plays against us. We need to move fast, beat them at their own game, hit them when they least expect it, especially if we have any chance of making it to the playoffs this year! Don’t you agree, Kim?”

It takes a second for Seokjin to realize the man is referring to him, and he sits up straight, anxiety kicking in because he hadn’t prepared a response to his impassioned speech.

He raises his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

The team erupts into laughter, howls echoing off the walls of the dugout, before Coach blows his whistle, silencing them all at once.

“Get out there on the field boys, we don’t have time to mess around,” and Seokjin rises up, ready to throw the ball around for a bit, happy for the familiarity of baseball to make him feel grounded when it seemed like everything about his life was upside down.

“Not you, Kim,” Coach holds out a hand to stop him. “You’re injured, remember? Your physical therapy with the doctor is in five minutes. Don’t be late.” And with a nod, he leaves.

Seokjin was even more confused. Injured? But he didn’t remember getting into an accident of any kind. 

He hoped whoever this doctor was, they could help give him some answers.

The clacking of heels signals your arrival moments later, Seokjin lifting his head up to asses the new entry to the dugout. When his eyes fall on you, he sucks in a sharp breath.

Wow. You had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, pencil skirt hugging your figure perfectly, hips tapering out to an ass that he knew Irene Bae couldn’t have accomplished no matter how much she stuffed her cheerleading uniform with toilet paper. His eyes travel upwards, falling on your chest, and immediately he blushes, reminded of the woman in the apartment this morning. Your boobs are covered by a silky top, the fabric doing nothing to hide their shape, and Seokjin gulps. They look way nicer than hers, anyway. He wants to rest his face on them like a pillow.

Maybe he should ask you out on a date first, though.

“Hi Jin!” your soft voice greets him happily, a dazzling smile taking over your features, and Seokjin feels his heart speed up. He hadn’t felt this dizzy since he saw a poster of Beyonce in a bikini when he was shopping at Target with his mom. “How are you doing today?”

“F-fine,” Seokjin stammers, unable to look you in the eyes when you take a seat next to him. He tries to find interest in the specks that line the floor, but your smell overwhelms him, the sweet floral scent attacking his nose. You looked nice, sounded nice, and you even smelled nice. Not to mention you were actually nice.

And he was supposed to be alone with you? For longer than five minutes? Seokjin thinks he’ll pass out if you get any closer to him.

“How’s the leg?” you ask him, leaning over until your face is right next to his. Seokjin forces himself to look away with a blush, grumbling about how it’s okay. He wasn’t sure whether his leg or his chest ached more right now with the way you were staring at him.

“Let me take a look!” you say cheerfully, dropping to your knees, and reaching out to grab his calf, and Seokjin thinks he might throw up with the way he can see down your shirt, the soft white lace of your bra doing things to his head. He’d never seen someone more beautiful in his life. And you were taking care of him.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture, Seokjin holding his breath as you poke and prod all over his leg, stretching it in and out with curious eyes. At some point, he feels his pants start to become tight and freaks when he looks down and sees the beginning of a boner in his sweats. 

He coughs loudly, causing you to jump in surprise dropping his leg, and he immediately finds the nearest mitt and puts it on his lap to hide his unfortunate surprise guest. You smile up at him, rising to your feet.

“Your leg is doing great,” you tell him. “It should be all healed up soon, just in time for the playoffs. And then you won’t need to see me anymore.”

“Wait,” Seokjin chokes. He just met you! He needed you to stick around. Maybe you knew something about him, about what was going on. “What do you mean, ar-are you gonna leave?”

You cock your head curiously at him, and Seokjin shrinks into his seat at your intense gaze. Was he being weird around you?

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jin.”

Seokjin’s heart pounds at your words, and he shyly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Thanks! See you again—” he blanks when he realizes he doesn’t know who you are.

“___,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows up at him, turning to leave. “Seokjin? Next time you come to physical therapy, try not to be hungover, okay?”

He watches you leave with a dazed smile on his face. ___. Meeting you had been the highlight of his day so far. Despite how strange everything had been, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Seokjin catches the ball with an oomph!, shocked at how fast these players could throw. It’d only been a day since he found himself in this new body, and he’d stumbled home confused after his session with you yesterday, eventually caving and trying desperately to hail a taxi to take him back to the apartment. He sobbed in relief when he saw the strange woman was nowhere to be found, slumping against the door and finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time all day. Tears tracked down his face as he thought of how often he’d wished for this, the life he’d wanted so desperately finally finding him in the end.

Even now, as he tosses the ball back and forth, he’s unable to believe it. Him, the star batsman for the team he’d idolized growing up? He wanted to call his Eomma and tell her, but paused when he realized she probably already knew. 

“Something on your mind?” Jackson says to him with a laugh, throwing a curveball, and Seokjin feels his palm burn from the force of catching it.

Seokjin surveys the man who was the last person he remembered before everything changed, and wonders how they ever became friends. He wants to ask, but something feels uneasy about it – like Jackson would judge him for it. He would probably think Seokjin was clinically insane if  he even tried to bring up how he fell asleep thirteen and woke up thirty one day.

He wishes there was someone he could talk to, someone who got it, and that’s when he sees you waving from across the field. You’re dressed more casually today, in slacks and a soft-looking sweater, and yet you still manage to be absolutely stunning.

Seokjin feels guilty for staring at you so much like he’s a stupid thirteen-year-old with a crush on his teacher, but he also genuinely enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Despite your annoyance at his “hangover”, you hadn’t taken it out on him with words as the others had; you went about the session as normal and treated him with kindness the entire time through.

Seokjin waves goodbye to Jackson, sprinting in your direction. He misses the way Jackson’s eyes follow his back, trained on the way you greet him with a smile, the two of you heading back into the dugout.

“Soooo, you’re a doctor?” Seokjin can’t help himself from asking, immediately feeling stupid when he realizes that he’s meant to have known you for a while. He couldn’t help it - you felt like the only real thing he could latch onto in this world, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he processed all the new changes that had occurred.

“Yup! I studied sports medicine in college, then went to med school,” you answer politely, your tone giving no indication that you found him weird at all.

“That’s cool, you must be super smart, 7th grade bio is hard enough for me,” Jin laments, immediately realizing his mistake with a soft gasp. “Was. It was hard for me, you know, back in seventh grade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay Seokjin?” you look up at him, eyes filled with concern.

Tears prick at Seokjin’s eyes, the earnest tone of your voice giving him the push he needed to be honest. No, he was not okay. He wasn’t okay, and he needed someone to talk to, and he thinks that you, of all people, might be able to understand. After all, your entire job involved empathy.

“Something really weird is happening,” he confesses, watching you listen carefully to his words. “I don’t know what’s been going on, but the last thing I remember, I was sitting in my closet, and it’s like I’m in a weird dream. I feel like I skipped half my life – I can’t remember the person I used to be, or what my life was like at all. It’s like I don’t even recognize myself.” 

“I think I need help,” he continues. “I need help remembering who I was before. You’ve known me for a little bit, right ___? Do you think you could help?”

Seokjin thought he was onto something, but his heart drops to his stomach when he looks up and he sees you, face pale and lip trembling like you’re about to cry.

“I–, I don’t know if I’m the best person to help you with that Seokjin, maybe you should ask Jackson,” you respond, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he leans over to look into your eyes, shocked when they’re as misty as his own. “What happened, ___?”

Before he knows it, the vulnerable look in your eyes is gone, and you’re back to your normal, cheerful self.

“Hey,” you tell him. “Why don’t we pack it up for today? I’ll walk you back home to your apartment.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, stomach still churning at the pained look you’d had moments before. “But can we get milkshakes?”

You smile at him, a look of fondness coming over you. You rise, beckoning him to follow you outside.

“I think we can manage that.”

The slurp of a straw interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see Seokjin, eyes wide with delight as he drinks up the last of his milkshake, the whipped cream forming a mustache on his top lip.

You’re puzzled. The Seokjin you’d known before would have never agreed to hang out with you, let alone talk to you for an extended period of time. For as long as you’d known him, even in college, he’d been too arrogant for his own good, obsessed with letting everyone know the world revolved around him and him only. The man sitting in front of you is completely different, transformed in a way that didn’t even seem real.

The Seokjin that sat with you now seemed infinitely more unsure of himself, shy and hesitant in the way that only a child would be. You wonder what could have changed so suddenly. Coach hadn’t given you any reports about him undergoing head trauma in addition to his leg injury. 

“Thank you for the milkshake,’’ Seokjin grins, wiping the cream off his lips, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat at that. You curse yourself for the moment of weakness, even after all this time. 

“We went to college together,” you blurt out, not knowing why you chose to reveal this piece of information, given that he likely already knew it. “Me, you, and Jackson.”

Seokjin’s mouth gapes open, a shocked gasp escaping his open mouth.

“Really?” he says leaning in closer to you. “Were we friends?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Had he really forgotten college? I mean it had been nearly a decade ago, and it wasn’t like life had drawn you back together until recently.

“Not really, you moved in a different crowd,” you chuckle. “Like not the nerdy, study in the library kind. More like the frat rager kind.”

“WHOAAAA,” Seokjin marvels in wonder, his voice filled with childlike glee. “That sounds awesome.”

“What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?” he continues, softer this time, but you still pick up on it. 

Reaching a hand towards him, you pull away at the last moment, unsure why you were acting so wildly out of character with him. It was like the energy between you two had completely changed.

“Well, you got everything you ever wanted, then, might as well enjoy it,” you smile at him, heart fluttering when he gives you a sincere smile back, his cheeks puffing out with happiness.

“I have to run,” you get up abruptly, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “But I’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“What gala?” he asks, eyes looking up at your curiously. Your stomach turns in disbelief. Did he actually not remember? Maybe his schedule was so busy he’d forgotten.

“The charity gala that I organized for the team tonight,” you tell him. “The one to raise money for medical care for athletes who’ve suffered a career-ending injury?”

“Oh! I’ll be there,” Seokjin says confidently, beaming at you. You give him a weak smile back, knowing you have to leave before you did something stupid and made the same mistake twice.

“Arrivederci, ___!” he waves, turning to walk in the other direction before he disappears around the corner.

“Au revoir,” you whisper back softly. 

Your life was completely different now, and there was no place for him in it.

Seokjin straightens his tie before stepping into his closet, perusing the many suit options he had. He wanted to pick his best outfit to impress you with tonight, but he was feeling overwhelmed with the size of the space, missing the days when his Eomma would drag him to Goodwill and they’d find the cheapest one that fit. 

He settles on a navy blue one, throwing the jacket over his shoulders, and pushing his hair up off his face, before taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror. 

Whoa. Seokjin still couldn’t get used to the way his body had changed, remembering the ugly duckling phase he’d been in the middle of before being transported here. He wonders if he was able to talk to a lot of girls now that he was more confident. Maybe he’d even had a past girlfriend that he didn’t know about. Maybe they’d even had sex.

Seokjin’s cheeks burn when he thinks about it, your face in the back of his mind. He imagines what it’d be like to kiss you, thinking about how soft your lips would feel. Why had the two of you never dated? Maybe because you worked together? Whatever it was, he hoped he could change your mind about it.

Stepping out of his apartment, he skips down the hallway to the elevator, giddy to be going to his first grown-up party. Well, not technically his first, but more like the first, he could remember. The elevator dings and Seokjin makes his way inside, a little boy his only other companion.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, but the boy just ignores him, looking at his phone. 

“I’m Seokjin,” he says, extending a hand that catches the boy’s attention.

“Jungwoo,” the boy says, looking hesitant as he accepts the handshake. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Seokjin says, feeling confused. “We’re neighbours, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo responds despondently. “But you usually ignore me most of the time.”

The way he says it makes Seokjin feel horrible inside. He would never purposefully ignore someone like that, not after knowing what it felt like as a kid. He wonders what the 30-year-old version of him had been like to warrant such a reaction.

“How old are you, Jungwoo?”

“I’m thirteen,” Jungwoo responds, and all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a stop, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Jungwoo walks out without another word, Seokjin running after him.

“Wait!” he says sharply, watching Jungwoo turn to look at him in shock. “You should come over and hang out sometime, we can watch some baseball together.”

“Really?” Jungwoo says hopefully.

“Yeah,” Seokjin smiles, patting him on the back. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later!”

And Seokjin runs out the door, excited not only to have made a new friend but at the fact that it felt like this strange life of his was finally clicking into place.

The room spins around you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because the arm around you feels too tight tonight or because the music is boring as heck. You want nothing more than to sit down, knowing all the attention would be on you in a matter of moments, and the thought made you sick.

What made you even more nauseous was your partner’s maroon tux. Maroon. To match your navy blue. When you’d asked why he hadn’t worn the same color, his only response was: 

“Babe, this little thing isn’t that serious, right? It’s about the money.”

You excuse yourself, wanting to find some investors to talk to about how to contribute their generous wealth towards your aspiring fund, only to catch sight of Kim Seokjin in a corner, knocking back drinks with a giddy smile.

“____!” he waves you over happily when he sees you, taking your hand to pull you in close to him. “I can’t believe it’s 10:00 pm on a school night and I’m at a party, drinking pina coladas that aren’t virgin!”

Your jaw drops open when you see what he’s wearing. Navy blue - a smart-looking suit to match your gown perfectly, and you feel the back of your neck grow hot with thoughts you shouldn’t be having. 

“Glad to see you’re doing better now,” you giggle, and his smirk turns lopsided with glee at your kind words, its unintended effect being to cause butterflies to bubble in your chest.

“I’d be even better if they turned off this boring music,” he slurs contentedly, taking another drink from the server. “Why don’t they play some throwback tunes in here?”

“I’m not sure that fits with the sophisticated vibes needed to gain a corporate sponsorship for my cause, I’m afraid.”

“I’d donate money to you,” he says softly, his warm eyes twinkling from the numerous fairy lights as they meet yours. “Heck, I’d give you my entire paycheck.”

Setting the glass down, all signs of his previous tipsiness disappear as he regards you with a serious stare. You watch his cheeks flush, his gaze dropping to the low neckline as he sharply inhales, bringing his eyes back up to your face.

“Wanna go for a spin?”

You’re mesmerized by him, transfixed as you take his hand, the two of you retreating into a private corner of the ballroom, right by the open-air balcony. The cool breeze creates shivers down your spine as Seokjin pulls you close, his warm breath fanning against your face, and despite your best efforts to look past him and out onto the city lights, you find you can’t take your eyes off him.

It all feels too short, barely a minute of you swaying in Seokjin’s arms before the beat changes abruptly, Usher blasting through the speakers. You feel achingly empty when Seokjin’s hand leaves yours, but the smile returns to your face when a moment later, he begins head-banging and gyrating goofily to the new song.

“Now this is more like it,” he hollers, and you can’t help but join him the two of you twisting and turning until you’re laughing, out of breath and delirious with joy. 

The joy is cut short when another shadow looms over your meeting, pulling you into his arms.

“___, babe there you are! What are you and Kim doing hiding away in this corner?” Jackson pulls you into his side, and your stomach drops when you watch Seokjin’s eyes go wide with a mix of shock, and what you can only assume is pain.

“Sorry Kim, I know you get her for the PT during practice, but she’s mine for the PT after hours if you know what I mean,” Jackson grins, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Seokjin’s mouth remains agape, and you watch his eyes glimmer with realization as he pans to the thin band that adorns your left ring finger, finally noticing its presence for the first time.

A sharp squeal interrupts the tense moment between you, and you notice a woman in the tightest dress you’ve ever seen run over to Seokjin, nearly knocking him over as she wraps her arms around him. His entire body tenses up, and you want nothing more than to smooth over the hair that has fallen into his face.

“Baaabe, you’ve been ignoring me,” the woman whines, her nasal voice grating your ears. Of course. It’s Jennie Kim, model extraordinaire. Of course, she would be Seokjin’s date now – a match worthy of his striking looks and personality. 

“Who are they?” she says vapidly, taking in you and Jackson’s entwined figures.

“I, uh, these are, this is ___, and Jackson, coworkers, and friends from college,” he stutters, trying to unravel himself from her death grip. “And this is, uh, uhm…’

“Jennie Kim!” Jackson immediately lets you go to take her hand, shaking it furiously. “So nice to meet you!”

“Babe, we should get going,” Jennie tugs on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember we kind of had other plans for the night?”

“W-we did?” Seokjin stammers, and you decide you need to walk away, lightly tugging Jackson’s arm to follow you across the ballroom. Of course, he’d go home with her - she was beautiful, successful, and perfect. And you were just you.

“___,” you hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, yet you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Jackson has left your side once again, going back to talk animatedly to Jennie, and you’re alone together once again.

“Should I go home with her? Jennie? Is it a good idea?” he asks, and you turn, meeting his gaze, which seems so earnest, so genuinely filled with concern for what you thought. Or at least that’s what your overthinking mind told you, kicking back into gear after eight years of wiping all thoughts of Seokjin from your memory.

“Yeah, you should,” you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

Seokjin yawns, Jungwoo’s animated voice yapping away in his ear as the two of them walk down to the lobby together. His night had gone later than he expected - too much of it spent lost in the city streets as he’d run out of Jennie’s apartment, not expecting her naked boobs to be in his face the moment they’d come in. Her hands had been all over him, ignoring his suggestions of quitting to watch a movie or maybe even play a game of Monopoly.

“Girls are sooo stupid,” Jungwoo sighs. “Why don’t the ones you like ever like you? Why do they give all these weird signals?”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin sighs, your face immediately coming to his mind, thinking about how you’d felt in his arms at the gala. Obviously, you’d looked beautiful, but underneath the dim lights, you shone in a way that he didn’t think was possible, one that made him feel very strange on the inside.

“Love is a battlefield, my friend,” Seokjin ruffles the kid’s hair before getting into his waiting taxi and waving goodbye. “Have fun with fractions! Remember, always divide by the number on the bottom!”

. . . 

Coach was furious. The team was failing, their chances of making the playoffs dismal, and he made that clear with how he ripped into them with the speech.

“You better shape up now, or this franchise as we know it will be over!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” Seokjin blurts out, watching the entire team turn to him. “Maybe we need to get our asses handed to us. Maybe we need to actually experience loss to realize how much is at stake. Because winning is great and all, but don’t we learn more from our failures?”

The locker room is abuzz with chatter, Coach clapping Seokjin on the back. 

“I knew you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, kid,” he says, and Seokjin looks at him blankly, wondering what he could be referring to.

“ESPN?” Coach says. “That article they ran a few months ago about you being a slimy, unprofessional cheat just because you “injured” that player for the Cardinals? I knew it was all BS. I mean look at you, how could you hurt somebody when you’re injured yourself?”

Seokjin’s stomach sinks. He’d hurt another player? That was something he’d never dreamed of doing. He loved baseball, and everyone deserved to experience the joy of the sport, whether it was through winning or losing. That was what made a good player, not sabotaging others.

One by one, the players get ready for practice, Seokjin finally suiting up to go bat for the first time in a while. His sessions with you had tapered down as he recovered, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. The more and more he thought about the life he’d always wanted, one as a star baseball player, the more awful it seemed. Being a grown-up wasn’t as fun as he thought - people were liars, cheaters, and just plain old mean. But you weren’t like that.

The bat slams against the ball with a satisfying crack, soaring out towards the far end of the field, and Seokjin prepares to run. But two voices behind him make him stop in his tracks.

“Can’t believe Coach is trusting Kim and his new weird-ass stunt,” Jackson seethes. “Like he’s really gonna help rebrand the team? All he cares about is himself.”

“Yup, the prick was the entire reason our last shortstop got traded,” Jaehyun, one of the left fielders, hisses. “Can’t believe Kim had an affair with the guy’s wife.”

Seokjin drops the bat with a clank, the entire team turning to look at him. But he doesn’t care, storming off into the dugout. Was this really who he was? A bully and a cheater? Being thirty no longer seemed like a dream, it was steadily turning into a nightmare. 

Storming through the dugout, he finally finds the door to your office, sighing heavily as he raps against it.

You open it within seconds, shocked to see his dejected figure standing in front of you.

“Wanna go for a walk, ___?”

“I can’t believe you and Jackson are getting married,” Seokjin remarks as the two of you walk, bringing up the proverbial elephant he’d wanted to ask you about ever since the night of the gala.

“Only a couple of weeks now,” you respond, wrapping your arms around you to fight off the chill, and Seokjin wishes he’d brought a jacket to keep you warm.

“Are you guys soulmates?” he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. ‘Do you get butterflies when you’re around him?”

He knows that his question is loaded, that underneath it hides the depth of the feelings he’s managed to keep concealed for all this time, but he asks anyway, knowing the answer may hurt him.

“Nahh, I don’t really believe in that anymore. The last time I was crazy like that for a guy was in college,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why weren’t we ever friends back then?” he asks you again, feeling you come to a stop next to him, your heavy sigh permeating the tense air between you.

“Listen,” you tell him, and your voice sounds thick with what he thinks are tears, “Can we just please forget about it? It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seokjin knows he may not have any reason to apologize but he still wants to anyway. It seemed like he’d left a trail of destruction behind him wherever you went.

“Seokjin, no, please, you don’t have to apologize,” you grab his hand and give him a weak smile, trying vainly to reassure him, but his rapidly racing thoughts get in the way.

“I want to though,” he says back, his own voice cracking. “I mean, do you even know the kind of person I am, ___? I don’t have friends, I just use people, I slept with a teammate's wife, and I never talk to my parents. I’m not a nice person. And the thing is, I’m not thirteen anymore. I need to stop living in the past.”

And with that, he lets you go, ignoring your cries of protest as he runs away, his mistakes following him until he gets home. Closing the door behind him, he slumps to the floor, sobbing while he dials his parents' number.

It was time for him to make things right.

Seokjin stares down at the facade of the house he’d grown up with, the chipped paint and wide windows instantly soothing his heart. The train ride over had been brutal, his empty eyes watching the scenery drift by aimlessly, ignoring the giggles of the group of teenagers that sat next to him.

He wished he could tell them to stay happy and young forever, to continue living without a care in the world. Being a grown-up wasn’t worth it. Instead of bringing him the happiness and the belonging he’d craved, it only made him feel more alone, more empty inside than he’d ever felt as an awkward teen.

Stepping onto the porch, he reaches under the doormat, relieved to see his parents left a spare key there. It was like they’d been waiting for him to come home this entire time.

As he walks through the door, a chilling realization sets in. The house was empty. His parents weren’t here, they were probably in Korea. And all at once, Seokjin’s hope for coming back came crashing down.

Stepping out of his shoes, he leaves them at the door, sprinting up the stairs to his room. The door creaks open, and Seokjin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The bed is gone, replaced with a treadmill. The walls had been repainted, the floors redone. The lone thing that remained of his was the desk in the corner, all his belongings still on it. It serves only to remind him that his parents had always waited for him to come home, but eventually, they too must have grown tired of him.

A sob escapes him, and he realized he’d disappeared completely from their lives, not even bothering to keep up with the only people who’d loved him unconditionally his entire life. All of a sudden he feels nauseous, his stomach turning as he realized the fate the threads of time had woven him - a life of loneliness. One where he spent so much time garnering attention, only to be a forgotten soul anyway.

He rushes into the basement, the garish yellow walls exactly as they’d been seventeen years ago, and locks himself in the utility closet. Tears stain his face as he hiccups, slamming his head back against the wall.

“I wish I was thirteen again, I wish I was thirteen again.” But his pleading words fail to work this time around.

He doesn’t know how long he remains crumpled up in the closet, but he doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear his parents pad down the basement stairs, umbrellas in hand until the closet door opens, light seeps in, and he’s met with their concerned faces.

Seokjin leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around them.

“Eomma, Appa, I missed you. I missed you both so much.”

.  . .

The rain patters against the window, and Seokjin turns over on the couch, watching it gently fall. After a bowl of his Eomma’s kimchi jjigae, he’d felt the most like himself he had in a long time, the two of them fretting over how thin he’d gotten. 

But now, alone in the living room, Seokjin felt like an intruder again. His parents were more used to living without him than with him.

Suddenly, his throat feels dry, the number of tears he’d shed today leaving him parched. He gets up, padding over to the kitchen, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t disturb his parents. Flicking the light on, he walks over to the fridge, opening it to get the water jug out.

“Seokjinnie?” his Eomma’s soft voice comes from behind him. “What are you doing awake at this time?”

Seokjin should have known better than to get up in the middle of the night. His Eomma’s sixth sense had always been knowing when her child needed something. Within five minutes, she’s boiling some frozen dumplings and chopping up vegetables to make him food. 

He’s grateful for her attention, but his stomach churns with nausea. She may be the only other person he can talk to about this. Other than you.

“Eomma,” he interrupts her quiet concentration, and she looks over at him from the stove, her eyebrows etched with concern. “If you were given a chance, do you ever wish you could go back? Like to a different time?”

“I’d love to go back and take care of some of these wrinkles,” she chuckles, and Seokjin smiles along with her. Her face hasn’t changed at all since he was thirteen, still as youthful as ever.

“Yeah, but if you were given a do-over, let’s say, what would you change? Like if you made a big mistake,” Seokjin asks, wondering if having regrets was just part of growing older and whether there was still hope.

“Well, I don’t regret making any mistakes in my life, because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have known how to make them right,” she responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees Seokjin staring down at the food, failing to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. His Eomma reaches across the table, taking his hand in her smaller one, and squeezing it gently.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m not even good at baseball,” you tell Seokjin. “Why do you want to practice with me?”

Seokjin looks at you, strolling through the park with him in a cosy-looking hoodie and jeans. While your outfit may not have been ideal for baseball practice, the way he looked at you still sent your heart aflutter, and you wondered what it’d be like to wear one of his oversized sweatshirts.

“That’s exactly the point, ____, I’ve gotten too comfortable practicing with the team. I know their every move, but we need to step it up for the playoffs. That’s why I need someone different. Someone who can keep me on my toes. Someone like you.”

You cover your face with your hands shyly, palms out towards him, and that’s when he decides to launch a curveball. 

“OW!” you yelp. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Like I said,” Seokjin smirks. “I need you to keep me on my toes. Looks like you need me to do the same.”

The two of you toss around the ball for a while, your throws being much more unpredictable and much less powerful than Seokjin’s. Your ego inflated exponentially when you saw him miss a few, a smug expression on your face. When you look up at the sky, you realize it’s gotten dark, the sun beginning to set behind the trees.

“Hahaha, looks like the team might need a replacement pitcher soon,” you taunt him.

“In your dreams, ___, stick to helping people instead,” he laughs, immediately running towards you with a devious grin.

You squeal, running away from him, the two of you chasing each other through the park, your laughter echoing through the trees the entire way. 

Eventually, your legs tire, and you slow down, hiding behind a tree out of his sight. It’s all for nothing when you hear his footsteps thud on the running path behind you, his arms coming to wrap around you, sending the two of you toppling into the grass. 

“Ahhh, shit, that hurt more than it should have,” you groan, shifting onto your back. “We’re getting old.”

When you look up at him, your heart stops. Your heavy breathing slows as you look up at him, the stars from the night sky reflected in his eyes when he stares down at you, something hidden in their depths that makes your chest come alive with excitement. 

“Wanna know a secret, ____?” he laughs, stroking your wrist gently with his thumb, and you look over to see your hands intertwined. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding his.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

Seokjin’s plush lips descend towards yours, your breaths mingling for a brief moment before panic sets in, and you turn the other way, his kiss ending up on your cheek instead. You feel dizzy with emotion, immediately regretting the decision, knowing all you wanted to know was if his lips felt as soft as they looked. You’d been fooling yourself for so long, thinking your feelings for him had gone away.

You sit up, silence heavy in between you both, but you don’t leave, instead wrapping your arms around him and leaning onto his shoulder. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling against you, and the two of you remain there, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

“Ew, what do you mean you guys didn’t kiss properly,” Jungwoo looks at Seokjin from across his bed, five other pairs of young, curious eyes looking over at him. “Did she have cooties or something?”

“Stop it!” Soobin punches Jungwoo in the shoulder, earning a glare from the other boy. “You’re ruining the romance. Are you gonna ask her out, Jin?”

The baseball game in the background remains forgotten as the boys erupt with chatter, arguing amongst themselves about how to ask out a girl.

“I don’t know, guys,” Seokjin says dejectedly, wondering if the reason you’d only let him kiss you on the cheek was because you were engaged to Jackson. “It’s complicated with like, grownup stuff.”

“At least you have someone who likes you,” Felix groans. “Girls don’t exactly want to jump your bones when you’re a metal mouth.”

Seokjin jumps up at that, shushing Felix for even saying such a ludicrous thing.

“None of that, okay! We are young, and we are thriving. Love may be a battlefield, but we’re the Earth’s finest soldiers. So let’s get out there, yeah?”

. . . 

It’s finally here. The game that will make or break the Eagles’ season. And it’s also Seokjin’s first game back. The locker room is abuzz with tension and anxiousness, the players tripping around each other as they get ready.

In his cubby, Seokjin sits, and thinks. This was the moment he’d waited his entire life for. To be a star player, and to win a championship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things that had occurred, it was just another thing he had to do. He no longer faced the same anxiety he had during the day of the tryouts, wondering if he was good enough. He knew now that he was. That all of them were.

“Kim!” Coach slaps him across the back. “Speech please!”

Seokjin rises up and looks at his fellow men and teammates. He feels silly, giving a speech to them when he’s probably the lamest out of all of them, with thirteen-year-olds for friends and a hopeless crush on a girl. But then he remembers the words of that kid in the bathroom right before everything had changed. Hobi.

And he’d rather be original than cool anyway.

“I think,” he begins. “Over the course of the season, we’ve all forgotten that we have a reason for this. Baseball is our sport, and it’s our career, yeah, but there’s more to us than that. We have families, friends, and people we love and care about. We’re doing this for them just as much as we’re doing it for us. Because when we go out there on that field, and we put the love we feel for ourselves, and for everyone around us, into the sport that we play, we’ll be at our best. We need to remember what used to be good, and harness that.”

The whole dugout is silent for a few terrifying moments before there’s a clap from the back of the room. It’s joined by another one until the whole room is thundering in applause, and Coach is hugging Seokjin with tears in his eyes.

“Looks like that time off did you real good, kid.”

. . . 

Seokjin is the last one to leave after the victory, of course. He strips off his shirt, hitting the showers until all the sweat has dripped off his body, and now he pulls his workout gear over his head. The sound of a voice clearing behind him interrupts him, and he turns in surprise, seeing Jackson in the middle of the dugout.

“Hey,” Seokjin says. “Aren’t you supposed to go home? Isn’t ___ waiting for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jackson replies, ice in his tone. “I know your entire little stunt, and I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna work this time.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin feels his heart race at Jackson’s seething accusation.

“The moment this week ends, I’ll be married to ___, and I’m gonna ask Coach to trade me. You can’t have her this time, Kim. Do you think you can just bat your eyelashes and giggle and you’ll win the team over and get the girl? Nuh-uh. You’re still just a lame excuse of a person.”

Seokjin wants to protest, but he remains frozen, Jackson’s words causing his entire world to come crashing down around him. His lip begins to tremble, and when the first tear falls, he hears Jackson scoff, turning on his heels to leave. 

“You never stood a chance, Kim. Deep down, you’re still just that scared, uncool thirteen-year-old. Nothing’s changed, and nothing ever will.”

The week before the playoffs passes in agony, Seokjin knowing that Jackson knew about his feelings for you, and the fact that he’d be traded, and you’d go with him. He spends all his time in his apartment, talking with Jungwoo about what to do, he and the younger boy go through many pints of ice cream.

In the end, he calls the one he knows he needs to hear from the most.

“Eomma?” he asks over the phone. It feels good to tell her everything finally. She’d squealed in delight when he told her about you, telling him that Jackson was just being a quote, “butthurt dipshit.” “What should I do?”

“Oh Seokjinnie, only you know that. Just stay true to yourself, and all the answers will come your way, my boy.”

When he hangs up the phone, a notification pings on it, and he gasps at the headline.

“Jackson Wang traded from Eagles.”

In all his misery, he’d forgotten what day it was. He was almost out of time.

. . . 

The Internet was truly capable of modern miracles in this day and age, Jungwoo working his magic to help Seokjin find out the location of your wedding venue. Seokjin doesn’t even change out of his ratty sweats, throwing on his coat and running as fast as he can down the city streets, his phone overheating at how many times he ignored the maps function and changed direction.

Eventually, he comes to a stop outside the swanky hotel, strolling through the revolving doors and stumbling into the lobby. The finely dressed guests pay him no notice, and he manages to steal a bouquet of flowers, covering his face as he runs up the stairs two at a time, until he eventually finds your room number.

He knocks on the door, relieved to find it’s open, and that you’re alone. It must almost be time. You don’t notice him come in, too busy fixing your veil. A soft gasp escapes when you see him behind you in the mirror, disheveled and dripping with sweat, and you turn.

Seokjin thinks his heart might explode at how beautiful you look, your dress hugging every part of your body perfectly. But it’s more than that. Everything about you is radiant, glowing from the inside out. It’s like you’re the sun, and he’s the moon, your bright light complimenting his dim glow perfectly.

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice heavy with disbelief that he’s actually here.

“____, I know I’m not the greatest person, but I’m trying to be better,” he reaches for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and your hand comes up to join his, eyes glimmering with tears. “And I’d like to think if you also believed that about me, maybe you wouldn’t be marrying Jackson right now. That maybe things could be different.”

You whimper, trying hard to hold back the tears, and Seokjin doesn’t want you to ruin your makeup, so he wipes them for you.

“I can’t lie to myself anymore,” you tell him. “I felt things for you over these past few weeks that I haven’t felt for eight years. But I’ve also realized over the past few days that you can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” Seokjin asks earnestly. He wants to believe, has to believe that there might be a way for it to work. 

“Because you made your choice, eight years ago in college, when I told you I liked you,” you respond, barely a whisper. “And you rejected me. I moved on and so did you. We’ve been going down different paths for so long, making different choices. And I chose Jackson.”

Seokjin feels dizzy, like the floor is about to collapse from underneath him. You’d liked him back then. And he’d been too caught up in his delusions to be honest with himself, to give you the chance that you deserved. And now it was too late. He knew growing up was about making mistakes, and learning how to deal with them, but somehow this mistake hurt more than anything he could have imagined.

“Don’t cry,” you say sadly, seeing his eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a weak smile, backing away. “I promise. I’m crying because I’m happy. I want you to be so, so happy.”

You reach around your neck, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace until it finally comes undone, putting it in his palm gently.

He looks down and chokes on a sob. It’s a tiny gold baseball glove. He’d never noticed it before. You close his palm around it, and he takes a step back, finding himself underneath the door.

“I love you, ___.” 

He has to say it before he goes, he has to let you know how he feels.

“I love you too, Seokjin. I always have.”

And with that, he leaves.

. . . .

Seokjin stumbles down the steps of the hotel, hyperventilating as he finds himself back on the street, the tiny gold necklace still clutched in the palm of his hand. 

He stumbles down the busy road, bumping into strangers, but not caring. All he could think about was the fact that you loved him back, and yet life was still so unfair. Seokjin felt stupid for even dreaming of this in the first place, realizing that dreams were nothing but a delusion. Things never turned out the way you wanted them to, the black and white of them always complicated by different shades of grey.

He finds an empty bench and sits down, clutching his knees to his chest like a child. Running his thumb over the delicate gold charm, he closes his eyes, wishing that none of this had ever happened to him, that he had just stayed thirteen this entire time.

He knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop him from hoping one last time.

Seokjin jolts awake with a gasp, air burning his lungs and light hurting his eyes as the door to the locker is thrown open. His vision is blurry for a few seconds before it adjusts, and he looks up at his rescuer.

It’s a young girl, with a concerned look on her face.

“I heard you screaming, I live right next to the field. Are you okay?” she asks, and something about her seems familiar, but Seokjin can’t quite put his nose on it.

Looking down, he sees the dusty baseball mitt crushed in the palm of his hand, and running his tongue across his teeth, feels the metal of his braces, and his heart swells with joy. It worked! He was thirteen again. And now, he could finally start over.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles at her, putting his glasses on. They rest crooked on the tip of his nose, but he doesn’t care. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem!” the girl reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m ___, by the way. I just moved here.”

Seokjin feels his heart stop, looking into your eyes, finding them to be the same ones he’d said goodbye to moments ago. Was this really true? Was the universe giving him another chance? 

Taking his hand in hers, he shakes it, beaming down at her. “Nice to meet you, ___, I’m Jin. D-do, do you maybe want to go grab a milkshake and hang out?”

Your dazzling smile hasn’t changed at all, as you nod your head and laugh, the two of you walking out of the dugout and into the warm afternoon sun.

“I think we’re gonna be best friends, Jin.”

Epilogue

Seokjin pants, breath coming out in gasps as he carries the heavy box up the porch steps. He slams it onto the ground with a thud, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a loud groan, the muscles of his back aching. When he looks down, his mouth parts in surprise, the box’s tape having split open, revealing the myriad of photo frames that would soon decorate your new home.

From just a brief glance, Seokjin can already see a few pictures that make his heart swell, a dazed smile on his face. There was the one of you two at prom, when he’d almost confessed after seeing how stunning you looked in your dress but chickened out at the last minute. There was another from your college graduation, the two of you with bright eyes and wide smiles, ready to take on the future together. Another one from a date night at a game where he remembers the two of you getting caught on the jumbotron and making out in front of the crowd. His halmeoni blushed when she saw the video on tv the next day. On top of them all, though, sits Seokjin’s most prized possession: the framed photo of your wedding, Seokjin in a navy blue suit, and you in your dress, surrounded by your friends and family.

Growing up, Seokjin had a lot of dreams. A lot of them revolved around being cool, becoming someone worthy of your love. It was strange, but he’d fallen for you instantly the moment you’d rescued him from the locker, but it had taken years of your friendship for him to make a move. He’d always been so scared that his nerdy thirteen year old self would follow him through the years, and that he’d remain someone you never saw as a life partner. But he was wrong. Because you’d fallen for him too, spending years hiding your feelings in the same silly way. The day he married you was the day he’d realized all his dreams had finally come true.

Your soft footsteps come up behind him on the porch, and he turns to see you looking at him with a curious smile on your face. The sun shines behind you, bathing your face in its soft rays, and Seokjin can’t resist, lifting you up as you squeal, kicking your feet and the two of you stumble over the threshold together.

“That was a lot more romantic in my head,” he chuckles, offering you a hand up. 

“Jinnie,” you poke his cheek. “Who’s gonna get the boxes from outside now, huh?”

Taking your hand in his, he pulls you further inside with him, wanting to cherish these precious moments with you. The boxes could wait a little longer. For now, he was excited to begin the rest of your life together.

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” you chatter your teeth, feeling Jin pull the blanket tighter around your  shivering bodies on the floor. “Why did the heater have to break right before we moved in?”

His warm figure pulls you closer into him until your bodies are smushed together, limbs entangled in a mess.

“Nothing wrong with a little body heat,” he whispers, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking. 

You turn towards him, ignoring his soft ow! when you punch him in the chest, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your eyelids flutter, heavy from the fatigue of moving in all day, but the draft in the house causes you to shiver again in Seokjin’s arms. Looking up at your husband, you find his deep brown eyes focused on yours, his warm, gentle breath fanning against your face.

Seokjin’s fingers reach up to slowly brush a stray hair from your cheek, and despite the cold, you feel your body flush with warmth, bumping your nose against his accidentally before your lips meet Seokjin’s pillowy ones.

You’ve done this a thousand times, but every time feels like the first, Seokjin’s tongue tracing the seam of your lips before he bites at them, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Touch me,” you whisper against his mouth, and you feel Seokjin’s grip on your waist get tighter, his hands running up and down your sides until you’re shivering, but not from the cold.

He guides your hips over his, his right hand pushing you down against him until his hungry lips meet yours once again before they drop to mouth at your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the flesh there, and you bite back a moan.

Seokjin detaches himself from your neck, eyes dark with arousal as he looks at the splotches and faint sheen of saliva on your neck, and you feel a wave of longing rush down towards your core, grabbing his hand that rests on your back and moving it underneath your shirt, cupping your breast in his hands before he squeezes.

From there, the two of you are frantic, fumbling with buttons and kicking your limbs until your clothes fly off, and you giggle at Seokjin’s pyjamas in the corner, the cartoon characters on them resembling miniature versions of your husband. Your laughter is cut off by a sharp groan when Seokjin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down lightly.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, laving at the mark with his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

His fingers trace up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples, and you whine, grinding down into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you, and you roll your hips on top of him again, nails scratching down the broad planes of his back. 

Seokjin flips you around, caging your body underneath him, his knee pushing up right where you need him, his tongue flattening against your stiff nipple, sucking and teasing the bud until it’s red and aching.

“Need you inside,” you bed him, your hips bucking against his knee while his hand slips between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build, your movements stuttering against Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. You need to feel him.

“Look at me,” Seokjin whispers before he pushes himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel so unbelievably full, like you’re going to explode, body scorched with heat and nerves tingling in excitement.

He starts off slow, gently rocking into you, silently asking you if this is okay. His gentleness makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode, the moonlight shining on his skin and bathing him in the softest glow. You feel lucky that he’s yours forever. 

You meet his thrusts with circles of your own hips, your back arching up off the blanket as you moan for him to go faster.

“This okay, babe?” His thrusts speed up, snapping into yours, and you’re unable to do anything but slur yes, your voice ringing in your own ears, your moans mingling with his soft groans as the two of you move in tandem, lost in the feeling of each other. 

You grip his shoulders tightly, a string of curses exploding from your lips as the pleasure washes over you, your vision going white.

“Come for me ___,” Seokjin’s deep growl has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart underneath him. You whine in oversensitivity when he continues moving inside of you, squeezing his hand until he collapses on top of you, his warm cum spilling into your wet heat.

“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, burying his face into your neck. “My back is gonna be so sore when we wake up.”

“Can you believe we’re here?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “Married, with our own house? We’re so old now.”

You mean it as a joke, but Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, his sweaty arms wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“There’s no one I’d rather grow old with,” he smiles, before his expression turns mischievous. “Now, since we can’t sleep anyway, what do you say to getting some milkshakes, Mrs. Kim?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Kim.”

A/N pt 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[uwabbittuwabbit]

can we be casual now? pecco/luca this goes out to all my girlies with stress acne in these trying times </3 anyways i wrote this instead of studying for finals <3 pls enjoy!

Luca pulls his helmet off, scrubbing at the film of sweat on his face with the palm of his gloved hand, and tries not to let the fatigue settle back in too deeply to his bones. It had all blown off of him on track; the speed tearing it all away from him until nothing was there but for the weight of the bike underneath him, how it moved, he couldn't even feel the weight of the helmet on his head, how that and his gloves and boots boxed him in. Luca never had a problem with it before. He was used to working within limits, that had been his whole life--that the limits were the issue half of the time, and as for the rest it could be solved in terms of those declinations. Now though, everything was wrong. nothing could truly describe the sheer, staggering scope of malfeasance inherent to the Honda bike; Luca had seen Marquez and Joan wrangle the machine around track like it was a wild animal, yes, and lose, horrifyingly, but to ride it was an altogether different thing. Being slow in the straights was the least of its problems. What was really fucking Luca over was the fact that it never reacted in the same way as he shifted his weight to lean into a corner, the metronome of his person falling into an irregular tempo; arrhythmia. now when he went racing whatever overwhelmed him felt too big for his leathers and helmet to contain, it was as if he would explode outwards from the sheer feeling of it all. Everything about him hurt now. His whole body ached as it never had before on the Ducati, from trying to squeeze himself onto a bike that was too small for him. There was also the sharper pain from being thrown off the bike, and the blunter one that came from the refusal. Why can't you be nice to yourself, Luca wants to tell the bike once he's back in the garage, eyes still stinging with the suddenness of being thrown, the wheeling strobe of the sun. Watching as the mangled body of his machine is pushed back and propped up yet again, a macabre taxidermy, Frankenstein's monster from being patched up and revived so many times. It's--everything's a little bit too much right now. He does want to understand, which is why he went to Honda in the first place, but now here he is on the dirt track of the ranch, trying to figure out how to stop the situation from sliding out under him so quickly.

Luca sighs. He's breaking out into pimples again, something he thought should've stopped when he stepped into adulthood. Growing pains. There's nothing to be done about anymore so he strikes the kickstand back, is about to maneuver the bike in the direction of the garages when someone wheels up next to him. Luca turns and is surprised to see Pecco, the banner-red of his bike a figurehead. "I heard you were on track all day", he says, flipping up his goggles, and Luca does the same in greeting. "Yeah", Luca replies, "I was just about to go back". He shrugs a shoulder in the direction of the main complex. Nobody else is there. It's just him and Pecco, marauded in this river of dirt with the sun spilling the last of its brilliance across the valley. Everything is stained champagne bright, the light catching in Pecco's eyelashes the same way as it had, what seemed like eons ago. The memory hits like a migraine. Suddenly, appallingly, Pecco had become another one of Luca's bruises, one that was always tender because he poked at it constantly. It wasn't possible, to have what he wanted. They were both on their separate ways as factory riders: Pecco with defending his title, and Luca maybe hoping to be good enough for one point in the championship. There was no going back to what it was before, those days where Pecco and he could be casual; they had both been Ducati riders, they were all of friends. But it was different now. He had missed his chance, right here at the ranch where they had self seriously swapped critiques on each other's riding form; a slap of the shoulder, when one of them fell too deep into their own thought, laughter as a form of catch and receive. Pecco could no longer understand him like that anymore because Luca didn't understand himself now, and it was so strange and confusing, to have no one else as your guide. "How about a few more rounds?" Pecco asks. He's still there, one foot planted on the ground, the red of his bike still raw, gleaming. "Of course," he backtracks, "if you're up for it". Even after two world championships he's still, absurdly, bad at asking for things, and Luca feels this crazy exuberance well up inside his body. It's almost silly, really, how he would do anything for him. "Well", he says, turning the bike back towards the track: "if you say so champ". At that Pecco laughs, embarrassed. "You of all people should know not to call me that, cheap bastard", he replies. "Now you'll have to beat me, to keep my ego in check". "Try me", Luca returns, wiggling a bit closer to Pecco to shoulder check him. "I've been here all day, I have all the tricks". "You'll have to catch me first", Pecco says, then, he takes off in a cloud of dust, a blaze of red into the sunset. Luca curses; he hadn't even noticed Pecco flipping his goggles down. Pushing off he feels the bike wobble underneath him as he enters the track in pursuit, the wheels righting once he's exited the corner. This then, is familiar. So fine. If Pecco couldn't tell him how to ride anymore Luca could still be that for him, even as he lost more and more of himself to his goddamned dream. He'll stay, even when he had left all else behind. He'll stay.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Again with a random hc

How would they react to you wanting to pop a pimple of theirs

Huh... is it even possible for this dude to grow a pimple with all that burnt skin even?

Anyway-

Not a man to grown much pimples, just one or two every now at then.

But no. He won't let you pop them.

Proclaiming it hurts as hell and that you're a freacking sadistic for wanting to do this with him.

Which is ironic since this bitch is constantly hurting himself-

One day you finally get to pop a pimple of his which was on the healthy part of his back.

The usual stoic Dabi actually shrieked when you felt your nails doing that.

Man felt betrayed and now he is coming to pinch your ass as his revenge.

Would be rare for this ass to grown a pimple on anywhere to be honest.

He takes care of skin very well and due to genetics (maybe?) He didn't had one pimple. Not even on his teenage years.

But alas, to make this hcs work, miracles happen.

Grew a pimple on the middle of his fucking forehead.

Was mortified because ew germs and pus filled Ball on his skin.

Knows very well he can't pop it. But not his partner apparently.

Threatened you to overhaul you if you even stepped closer to him with those filled germs nails of yours.

After countless bitterness he just gives up and allows you in one condition, which is to wash your hands perfectly.

Didn't had much of a reaction really. Just squeezed his eyes close with a hiss and soon grabbed something to wiped his forehead.

Man actually prayed for this to never happen again.

Was funny to see Overhaul with a huge red mark in the middle of his forehead though-

Another one with perfect porcelain skin which makes you jealous of even.

But again, miracles happen in favor of this hcs.

Grew a pimple on his chin.

Didn't even blinked before accepting your offer to pop it.

Actually is annoyed with the bump on his chin so yeah, he almost begs you to poo it before himself does it..

Keeps muttering low and sarcastics 'ow' until you finally pop the pus filled bubble out of his chin.

For some reason he keeps scratching the place where the pimple was...? He doesn't know why he does this either, it just bothers him.

Actually does have some pimples every now at then, but not on his face.

They grow on his shoulder which he immediately curses at it when he feels it either by laying down or when his feathers sense it.

He hides the pimples from you. Hawks knows damn well of this obsession but hell nah, he is not having it.

Much like Dabi, he says it hurts like a bitch while running away from you.

Also keeps giving you the "it will heal itself!' Talk until you give up on pestering about the issue.

Is he wrong about this? No, no he isn't.

But you still want to pop it. So you will POP THE PIMPLE.

You finally managed to convince him one day while cuddling. Him on top of you shirtless (bless you, you went to have heaven)

No jokes. He kept whinning until the pimple was out and when you cleaned he called you a meanie.

Maybe because he was sleepy due to patrols, but he was still annoyed at you.

Good luck trying to do this again though, he is a tough cookie.

I'm sorry Shigaraki stans but I just can't see this man without having acne at least once on his life.

And due to his scratching abbit you won't even be the first to pop a pimple of his.

Actually I see you the one to reprimand him for popping them.

But alright,

He doesn't care honestly.

He pops it, so why he won't let you do it?

And he is so used to it that he doesn't even express any emotion when you pop the thing really.

He just wipes it off with the back of his hand and goes back to what he was doing.

I'm afraid of him for this-

[saturnbellfromhell]

SKINCARE TIPS part II.

Hello my lovlies, welcome back to a new post! I wanted to come back with something easy and fresh for the beginning of the colder season, since I'm guilty for not taking care of my skin in the fall as much as I am in the summer time. So I want to make a quick post about skincare once again. If you have any questions leave then bellow, I always anwser! With that being said let's get into the post shall we?

〰️ DISCLAIMER

I'm am not a certified dermatologist/cosmetologist, I highly advise to go to one if your having a hard time with your skin! With that being said, let's get into the post. 🕊

TIPS AND TRICKS

I. INTUITIVE SKINCARE

Now I know in the first post I talked about skincare cycling and how that can help to stay on track and it's also very beginner friendly to understand the process and the products that go together. But as time goes and you get into skincare you'll soon realize how good it is to monitor and understand your skin. Some days it will be very dry and patchy and some days it will be immensely oily and clogged. That's why I always recommend having two sets of skincare for different occasions. I work in an environment where my face gets dry patches after a few days, so on those nights I reach for my soothing cleanser and heavier moisturizer. If you're forgetful like me, you can also put an alarm in your calender for monitoring, this also helps me out on those busy weeks.

II. HYGIENE AROUND YOUR SKINCARE

I know many people who don't change their towels, wash cloths after a few days and I'm not saying you're dirty for that, I'm just suggesting you should try changing them everyday. I have 7 wash clothes, which I use once a day (morning and night) and I clean all of them together only with my sheets on the highest temperature. I also stopped washing them with softener, since this can lead to build up over time. If you're worried they will seem stiff, add some white vinegar, they fluff up towels real nice! I advise all my closest friends with acne prone skin to try this out or just use boxed tissues, even though this can be a little pricey and not eco friendly. Not a fan of makeup remover wipes anyway... to add on to this make sure to buy products with pumps so you don't scoop your hands into the product, even if they've been cleaned. Old skin, dust particles and such can get into the product.

III. OVER EXFOLIATING

I know you've heard people say this a million times, but is really is the case, especially if you have reactive/sensitive skin. Stop using exfoliating products more than twice a week. What this can do is a plethora of bad things. From stripping all the natural oils from your skin to dehydrating it, to making it more sensitive than it was before. Patience is the key here.

IV. RETINOL USE

When talking about patience, the first thing that pops up in my head is retinol, because o boy do you need a lot of patience for this. It can seem very intimidating at first but if you stick with simple steps the purging will not be so bad. Retinol makes skin cells turn over faster, by doing so when you start using it, it will push out more dirt than usual. This is the reason people stop using it. They payed so much for this product and now they have to look at a million blemishes popping out of nowhere. Our skin doesn't like big changes and retinol is a big shock to our skin from the start. So I advise in the beginning doing it once a week. I used to have retinol Sundays and yes I did purge, but not so much I had to stop. A pimple or two a week I would say, and with that I would just put pimple patches on them and it would resolve the issue.

Rules for retinol:

1. Never use retinol in the morning, it degrades in the sun. So you're throwing your money down the drain.

2. Don't mix it with vitamin C, salicylic acid and benzoyl peroxide. Yes you can have a skin day where you exfoliate with salicylic acid, but than have a recovery day after. In the same day, I wouldn't recommend it for the majority of people.

3. Never use more than a pea sized amount for a long period of time. Your skin needs to get used to the dosage.

4. I know the "sandwich" method is really popular right now with retinols, but I advise the old fashioned route. Sandwithing is putting a moisturizer before and after a retinol. I like to use a heavy moisturizer after the retinol and that's it. Even if you have acne prone skin, a heavier cream is necessary beacuse retinols dry out skin.

5. Don't apply to damp skin. Even though it may seem like a logical step, it does more damage than good. When applying a retinol to damp skin it penetrates deeper. So this can be quite irritating for your skin.

6. Don't forget the neck area and also your hands!

7. In the beginning do it only once a week and than after a month/two crank it up to twice a week. Really monitor your skin when cranking up the volume of retinol to see if you need to still hold back. Please please please dont rush this step. It's better to hold back a week or two than rushing.

8. Invest in a good sunscreen after getting into retinol and apply it every morning, reapplying every 2-3 hours when doing outdoor activities. If you work only indoor apply in the morning and the moment you exit your work place...that'll do it.

V. SUNSCREEN

For the longest time I didn't invest in some sort of good sunscreen, I have no idea why to be honest with. I guess I was just lazy to be honest. Sunscreen is the most important item to have in your skincare bag. All this money can be spent on creams, toners, moisturizers, retinols and so on...but it means nothing when you don't have UV protection for your skin.

VI. MORE IS MORE

Many think if they have an oily face that they can moisterize less or even not at all. The trick is to find a cream/moisturizer that is not heavy or that clogs your pores. Most of the time you will damage and cause even more blackheads/whiteheads if you don't moisturize because your skin will increase your sebum production. More is more, try out toners as well for amazing hydration!

Also be sure to know that there are 2 types of sunscreen: chemical and mineral.

🖤 Chemical Suncscreens absorb UV rays, acting like a sponge. It's better for oily/acne prone skin because they are lighter than mineral one's. With this being said if you break out easily, you can also try chemical sunscreens. Chemical sunscreens have ingredients like OXYBENZONE, AVOBENZONE and OCTOCRYLENE.

🖤 Minereal Sunscreens reflect UV rays of the skin, they are more suited for babies, sensitive skin and also pregnant women! The ingredients that are in minereal sunscreens are ZINC OXIDE AND TITANIUM DIOXIDE.

IV. BEGINNER ROUTINES

I struggled with this a lot, not even going to lie. When the whole world is just throwing so many products at your face and you just don't know where to begin. What chemicals go together, what is better in the day time, what products should you spurge on etc... I had many problems in the beginning because I was introducing so much to my skin. So I'm going to give a few examples for a beginner skincare routine with some of my favorite products so you don't need to struggle. Also I go by the this too when I'm feeling lazy and don't want to put 10 products on my face.

🖤MORNING

For daytime I recommend just the simple cleanse, moisturize and spf. On to this later you can add hydrating toners, vitamin C, an essence like snail mucin, hyaluronic acid, niacinamide. All of these products can go together!

🖤 NIGHT

Double cleansing in my opinion is a must, even if you have sensitive skin. Start of with an oil based cleanser on DRY skin, message for a minute, rise and than apply a normal cleanser, massage for a minute and rinse again. The oil pulls out gunk from the pores. After that make sure your face is dry and than apply your started retinol followed up with a heavier moisturiser. To this routine later you can also add eyes creams, again essence/and or toners and spot treatments for acne/dark spots.

🖤EXFOLIATION

Even sensitive skin needs exfoliation at less once a week, but be careful to really keep this routine simple. Again double cleanse, only this time the first cleanser is an oil based and the second is a salicylic based cleanser. Follow that up with a very soothing cream. For deeper exfoliation later you can look into exfoliation masks (the ordinary has one with salicylic acid) or a clay mask. Or my personal fave on exfoliation night is aloe vera gel and snail mucin. Glycolic acid and lactic acid are also an exfoliating product.

Hope you enjoyed the post!

xoxo NK

[saliosis]

your subway order total is $19.21

(extra notes below)

ok, so here's the deal with the slight design change! (i swear, it's cool)

i wanted to make chuck latino because i joked about it once (w/ fred stoller being on handy manny saying "my amigos 😆" and then saying his colors look like the flag of colombia 💀) but it stuck for some reason. to me, it works PERFECTLY.... if becky can be an alien who is

"ambiguously brown"

then why can't a sandwich person like chuck also be brown, yknow 🔥⁉️

(help i keep accidentally latinoifying wg characters--)

chuck? nah. he is now, officially

chuck el sandwichero perverso 🥪🇨🇴‼️🔥

(as they call him in the spanish dub aka chica supersabia)

for starters, i wanted to experiment with changing the type of bread he's based on. i can assume chuck is based on the classic sandwich made up of white bread (...💀) so i wanted to change it up for latino chuck.... yknow... yknow.... yknow.... 🕴️

i'm also just not a fan of plain white bread 🤕 LMFKAJDKSN

i had a couple of options to chose from so i can upgrade his sandwichness™ 💭 but i decided to settle onnnnnnn..........................

funky multigrain bread!! my favorite 🥄🥄‼️ anytime i make a sandwich, i usually reach for this bread... (and when i say "anytime" i mean the times i'm extra and watch a chuck episode while eating a sandwich 💀💀)

i like the idea of chuck having seeds and grains on his face... think of it like moles, freckles, or even acne scars if you will 🤷‍♂️ brent straight-up has seeds on him that represent freckles so why not, right⁉️ we can get creative here w/ it!!

plus- he's so much more bread-like this way

above is a fast doodle, but it is what i ended up sticking with for my design. if you see in the final drawing, i did shift around with some of his costume colors to make it work with the bread type-colors!!

i imagine brent being a variation of bread that looks similar to chuck. that way chuck can be multigrain bread and brent can be another type.

parent who is multigrain bread + parent who is another type of bread = two siblings, each being one of two options of bread because of genes™ (wow. sandwich person science 😍😍🥪🧬 /s)

my two options for brent's bread type? because i will probably never draw that man? either molasses bread (left) or even dark rye (right)?? but i lean towards dark rye brent because that idea seems so scrumptious to me

ngl i have never been too sure what type of bread brent is based on......

the wiki doesn't really help me decide. he has freckles that seem to be like seeds, so that means he's a type of bread that has seeds. but also, not that many seeds.... which is likely an animation thing since animating all those damn seeds must be hard. but idk? but his skin tone is very slightly darker than chuck so that makes me think he isn't white bread based™ (help what am i talking about)

if any bread experts™ out there have some guesses, let me know so we can talk about that more. for some reason, this is really fascinating.

anyways.... latino brent can be real too 🤷‍♂️

um...............

brent 😍🥪🇨🇴🔥‼️

(because i swear to god they just call him brent in the spanish dub instead of his long ass name)

but yeah 👍 that's my little hc-chuck related ramble. i may not talk about him, but i really fuckin love chuck 😭

............ .. . . . ... . .... . .. . ...... . .. ...... ....... .. .. .. .....typing this out has made me realize how much thought, effort, and research i have done all because of a joke i made. a joke i made about a cartoon character from a kids show where we haven't gotten new content in years. and that it's likely that i'm the only person thinking so deeply about a family of sandwiches--

[transmascposi]

Hey I was wondering if you or anyone had any advice on whether to go on the pill? I am not on testosterone and I really hate having a period but it’s really irregular anyway so I only have a period like once every four months (I’ve been to the doctor, it’s fine). I don’t think my hormone levels are consistent so idk if going on the pill would give me effects of more estrogen which I would quite like to avoid, do you know (or other people) anything about transmasc/ftm peoples experience of dysphoria after the pill? TYSM

hi! i'm not a health professional so don't take advice from me too seriously. my experience with hormonal birth control is limited, i've only been on mini pills, which is a progesterone-only birth control. it doesn't contain estrogen, so it has less side effects but can be a little worse at preventing pregnancy. i was told you could still bleed a little when on it, though i never did. and i didn't experience any mood-related side effects (which are a common complaint from people who were on the pill). i think it made my boobs grow a little, though i'm not 100% sure about that and i didn't find that listed among the common side-effects, so who knows. and it might've made my acne a little worse, but i was in a country with a different climate from mine at the time, so it could've been caused by that. the experience was a little dysphoric for me in the moments when i had to take the pill because it's a thing associated with women and the box was bright pink and stuff, but it was worth it considering i didn't have to experience the much worse dysphoria and huge discomfort of having a period.

maybe the mini pill would be a good choice for you?

does anyone have an experience with this that they'd like to share?

[larcenywrites]

Hii. Glad to know you're taking requests. Could you maybe write something about how Tony (young or not, it's up to you) takes care of his girl when she's on her period? Totally okay if you don't feel like writing it or don't feel comfortable or something!! Thank you anyway!

Ugh, I had awful periods growing up! Men could never 🙄 But absolutely! I wasn't sure how I wanted to do it, so I hope it's okay D:

Warnings: typical period stuff

💠Tony isn't exactly a stranger to blood and pain, so he knows what you're going through! Right?

💠Wrong! He figures out real quick that it's not the same, mostly because his not-so-supporting words are quickly thrown out the window, and now for the first time ever he's googling everything about periods and realizing wow, that's pretty fucked up you have to deal with all of that

💠He's never felt so powerless, especially when it comes to you

💠He feels bad about thinking it wasn't a big deal, but now that he knows what he's working with he can plan ahead and make you feel better. That's what he's good at! Kind of!

💠"Shit," you can't help but swear, your movement having already stirred up the light sleeper on his side of the bed. He picked up the frustration in your voice, already alert. "What happened?" Tony asks, looking over at you standing next to the bed and pushing the comforter back. You can't decide what to do first, and the sight is always a little degrading. "It's okay, I'll take care of it," he reassures you once he notices, sending you off to the bathroom. He'd rather you take care of yourself first than feel worse trying to deal with an accident.

💠He's changing those sheets, no questions asked and no complaints besides jesus, that's a lot of blood, are you alive? And he knows you feel like shit so he'll also do laundry for you, and he even already knows to rinse with cold water! Besides, he can just replace anything that's stained. "No big deal, okay?" He'll tell you softly, a hand wiping a stray tear or two. ❤️‍🩹

💠Also don't feel embarrassed about any acne. Plus, he can get you the best products on the market to try out if you want!

💠He's definitely figuring out what medicines or products you prefer to use so there's always plenty on hand. He tends to overprepare for everything so he's putting them in the car, in the offices he's barely even in (much less you), and always makes sure there's some in any bags you carry around.

💠Ngl he's looking at any better brands/versions of said products/medicines and then doesn't understand why you don't want to change the products you've used for your whole life and know work best for you 🤨

💠He just wants to make your already bad experience as manageable as possible. And he always has to butt in and be apart of every experience you have

💠If you don't use medicines and/or products, he's going to have a harder time because buying things is a big part of how he's always taken care of you. So now he's probably trying to figure out what types of things are comforting for you from snacks to jewelry

💠He's also having a harder time with it because Here, if you just take this it'll surely make you feel better! Right?? Hates seeing you suffer, especially if he thinks he can do something about it. And yet you refuse

💠Do your boobs get sore? Can he help with it 😏

💠If you're usually the one doing most of the housework he's trying to do it when you're not feeling good. Trying is a key word, but that's really all that matters. Sure, he doesn't have too, but you deserve to be in a clean and tidy space!

💠But that's just taking care of the physical stuff.

💠For once, he's keeping his own attitude in check during this time to avoid making you feel worse. You'll hardly hear a sass out of him! Instead, he's attentive and mindful

💠Even if you're in a bad mood he's probably not leaving you alone (even if he's making it worse). Do you need something? Here's a heating pad. He also made food!

💠His dedication is sweet and he's trying his best. If you snap at him he won't hold it against you, though you may get an annoyingly playful "Oh, don't be like that."

💠If you need your personal space... you probably won't be getting it as long as he's home. It's just... he can't leave you like that :(

💠He's not used to all the lights being off when he comes home. He's calling your name, but he already knows what's up. You're never in the bed this early unless somethings wrong. The sight of you curled up alone and in the dark breaks his heart. He's already grabbing the heating pad, and a bottle of water to keep nearby. The lights are still off when you hear him shuffling around, and then feel that familiar dip in the bed. You can tell he's cozying in right behind you, but the only contact being a rub on your back and a kiss to the top of your head. Just to let you know that he's here now. He's relieved when you roll over to curl into him, and when you're eventually falling asleep against his chest.

💠If you're weepy and overthinking things he's panicking, but he's there. He hates seeing you cry, and especially if he can't do anything about it. But he is glad you want him around to cuddle! Whatever position makes you the most comfortable! He'll talk you're ear off with random bullshit or sweet nothings to try and get your mind off of it. And if he can make you laugh, he's gonna feel pretty good about himself.

💠He'll try to lay with you in bed for as long as he can, though eventually there are things he has to go do. He'll ask if there's anything else you need before he goes, feeling guilty when you just shrug and the happier mood he worked so hard on is already fading

💠You'll always get kisses across your cheeks before he goes

💠And when he's away you always get check-in texts, but those are a thing even when you aren't feeling shitty

💠He won't ever tell you this if you didn't give him permission, but if you use any cycle tracking apps or a calendar he's up to date with it or he's recording what he can himself 😐

💠It does help him to help you! Maybe you've been a little off this week, but now he knows it's because you'll start next week and he can prepare. He can know which days are worse for you. Now he knows when your period is late or early (and while it's nothing in many cases he still freaks out)

💠He knows that you can still take care of yourself at the end of the day, but he wants to take care of you too! And while he's not perfect at it, he does make those weeks a bit more bearable 🥰

[hersweetrevenge]

corey cunningham headcanons [volume one]

i have an (over)abundance of time to think about corey, he plagues my mind 24/7, so i'm inflicting a sprinkling of those thoughts onto all of you. based on this list of questions for character development.

topics include: drinks order, grooming routine, money and purchases, scars, how often he cries, siblings, shoes, sleeping habits and favourite holiday.

WARNING for some general angst, as well as mild mentions of smut, child abuse or otherwise problematic parental behaviour and alcohol consumption.

[images via @/slashericons and @/shitedits]

drinks order

corey's not a big coffee drinker, he usually finds it too bitter, even with milk and sugar. he's happy to "go for coffee" with someone though, he'll just get a hot chocolate or a frappe with a lot of syrup.

he doesn't drink alcohol that often, joan never really drank in the house except for special occasions and she limits ronald to a few beers at most after dinner. as a result, corey is a bit of a lightweight, but when he does drink he always goes for a beer. he hasn't quite developed a taste for harder liquor yet, but vodka is a safe bet because he can mix it with pretty much anything and doesn't have to taste it. he likes the idea of whiskey (the most manly of liquors) but the first time he tried it, the burn made his eyes water.

grooming routine

joan was meticulous about his cleanliness in childhood. he had a bath every night before bed and joan made sure he never had dirt under his nails or behind his ears.

pre-accident corey has taken to showering rather than bathing. he showers every evening and shaves every other day. his facial hair is light/reddish so he can go a few days before it's really obvious he has stubble, but he likes being clean shaven.

he uses 3 in 1 soap for body/hair/face, and yet somehow has the most gorgeous hair in the whole world and (mostly) okay skin. he still gets spots/pimples but he got through his teenage acne stage pretty much unscathed. he doesn't do any skincare. he has a bottle of lotion (on his bedside...) but he doesn't use it often unless he has really dry skin on his elbows or knuckles. it's store-brand unscented. and as a teenage boy in the 2010s, he used an excessive amount of axe body spray. now he has a more grown-up aftershave, but he doesn't use it all the time.

post-accident corey doesn't fair so well. for months after the trial he barely gets out of bed unless joan nags him enough, dragging him on errands or calling him downstairs at meal times. he'd shower when joan forced him to, and shaves maybe once a week.

once he gets a job at the call centre, he has to keep up appearances a little bit again. he showers every day (or other day, if he's not feeling up to it), doesn't mind stubble so much anymore so shaves every 3 - 4 days. when he gets a job at the scrap yard, he's more diligent about showering every day (does not want to go to bed still covered in garage grime.

corey's not a hugely hairy guy anyway, so he doesn't really do anything with his body hair. when he still had hope for getting past second base, he might of trimmed and "manscaped" a bit, but after a three year dry spell, he knows he'd just be kidding himself.

most expensive purchase and disposable income

he doesn't spend a lot of money. he doesn't have a lot of things. the cunningham-prevos are working class, he's used to not having a lot of disposable income to spend, especially before joan married ronald and she was a single mom for the majority of corey's childhood. joan doesn't make him pay rent or contribute to bills so most of his wages go into his savings (saving for what, he doesn't know anymore), and what little he does spend is on snacks and food from the gas station. now and then he'll see a yard sale while cycling home and might stop to look through some books - he has a shelf of tatty sci-fi paperbacks at home - but a few cents here and there barely makes a dent in his pocket.

he did buy his own phone though, as an upgrade from the abysmal off-brand smartphone joan begrudgingly bought him at 18. his phone is probably the most expensive thing he's ever bought, and even then its far from being the latest, most expensive model on the market. he doesn't even pay his own phone bill, seeing as he's on the family plan.

scars

corey doesn't really have any scars, pre-accident. he never really got hurt much as a kid, not with joan watching him like a hawk, but her jurisdiction did not extend to the school playground (luckily for him), where he got his fair share of grazed knees. no lasting scars though.

working at the scrapyard is rough in his hands, though. he hides it well from joan, but he gets little cuts on his fingers and around his cuticles from working. they heal up fine, but he can still see each silvery knick and wears them proudly. they're the proof of his skills, of what he can fix with his own hands.

the cut on his hand from the broken glass eventually leaves a thick scar on his palm. it would of healed more cleanly had he not ripped the stitches so badly and let it get infected. he ends up not being able to feel anything properly in the scar tissue, able to dig his nails into it when he clenches a fist without feeling a thing.

how often does he cry?

pretty often. not always over something specific, he's just an emotional person. as a baby he was (perhaps surprisingly) content, not fussy at all - a fact joan was exceedingly proud of. she'd look at other mothers out in public who just "couldn't control" their children, whose babies wailed and cried. then she'd look down at corey and be reassured of how excellent of a mother she was, with her perfectly happy, chubby-cheeked baby. but that didn't last and as he got older, it become clear he struggled outside of the home and he got overwhelmed a lot. joan said he was just a sensitive boy, was happy to coddle him if it meant he'd stay being a momma's boy, even when other parents would have been worried about his emotional development. he cried every day for the first month of kindergarten. he cried in the locker room at school after a fight he was in when he was 13. he'd cry at night after arguing with joan over whether he could go to college and whether or not she'd fill in his financial aid applications.

after the accident, he was in such a bad state of shock that he didn't cry at all. during questioning, when he was having to repeat himself over and over, he cried out of frustration because it was just an accident, he swears it was just an accident, but it feels like no one believes him and he just wants to go home. then, with the trial, he focused exclusively on that, no time to feel anything at all other than the anxiety that churned his stomach. once he got aquitted, that's when it really happens. he has a huge nervous breakdown, spends the whole night crying to joan while she holds him. it takes weeks for things to get better and there's a lot of crying and borderline catatonia.

he doesn't really cry over much after that. usually it's silly things that set him off, and it sort of surprises him that he can even do it anymore. sometimes he cried when he went to the allen house, or up to the radio station, but not always.

oldest, middle, youngest or only child?

only child. of course. joan only needed one object for her affections, just one person she could shape into loving her and only her unconditionally.

sometimes i wonder if corey was the result of a baby trap; joan having a baby so wally would have to stay and love her and provide for them, until it got to a point where she couldn't care less if wally stayed or not. once she realised corey could be a much better fit for her obsessions, of course.

corey thinks about what it'd be like if he had any siblings (and who knows, maybe he does if wally was unlucky enough to get someone else pregnant after he left haddonfield). mostly he sees other kids with siblings and wishes he had someone he could be close to, someone who would be in his corner against joan.

shoes

pre-accident corey has two pairs of trainers and a pair of "nice" shoes he wore for graduation. he's never been a fashion person, wouldn't even know where to start, but he at least chose his trainers himself, even if joan was with him and vetting his choices over his shoulder.

post-accident corey has one pair of trainers (he threw out the ones he was wearing the night of the accident), those same "nice" shoes (worn to graduation and to court) and his work boots. mostly the only places he goes is from home to work and back again, so he's more often than not got his work boots on. they're well worn and well stained with dust and grime.

sleep

corey's naturally a night owl. for a long time, he had a really (really) early bedtime and joan would stay in his room until he fell asleep. it made him wake up early but he'd go back to sleep and then it was difficult for him to get up again at the proper time. but once she stopped watching him sleep, as a reflex corey started staying up late, which made his trouble getting to sleep at all even worse. he has even more trouble getting up in the morning.

he sleeps with two pillows and a duvet. he has a blanket for winter but he usually runs so hot he doesn't need it. he also has a much older blanket he always keeps at the foot of the bed that he's had since he was a kid. it's a bit ratty now, but it makes him feel a little bit better when he's in one of his moods. he has two sets of sheets that joan has on a two-week laundry rotation.

after the accident, his sleep pattern is obliterated. he finds it even more difficult to get to sleep because his thoughts are constantly racing. he wakes up crying from nightmares pretty much every night, so upset he wakes joan and she comes running. he hates relying on her so much, but having her there does help him go back to sleep. it takes months for him to start sleeping through the night again (or as close to that as he's ever been capable of). eventually he starts doing what he did when he was younger, where he'd wake up in the early morning, but instead of going back to sleep, he'd sneak out to either the allen house or the radio station, depending on how much hope he current possessed about the future.

as previously mentioned, he is not a morning person. he often sleeps in later than he means to, falling back to sleep after turning his alarm off. he's late for work at least twice a month but usually more. ronald's on his back about it, but after a scolding he usually let's it slide. if it's not sleeping in that makes him late, it's joan's subtle acts of sabotage that keep him from getting out the door on time.

favourite holiday

corey doesn't really care about holidays too much. joan's neurotic need to control every single aspect of every single holiday means he's used to just sort of coasting through, doing whatever it takes to make her happy (or at least placate her for the day).

if he had to pick a favourite, he doesn't mind thanksgiving. it's less pressure than christmas, where the prospect of giving and receiving gifts fills corey with a special sort of dread. for a long time it was just him and joan for thanksgiving anyway, he doesn't have any other family, so there isn't the stress of having guests over. it's actually sort of nice, they have dinner and joan bakes a pie. her cooking is still pretty terrible, but corey's willing to overlook that fact in order to keep the peace. they eat dinner and watch TV, some of his best memories with joan are where they just sit and watch TV. plus, corey has his "what he's thankful for" speech perfected, "i'm thankful that you're my mom, and that you take care of me and love me." joan eats that shit right up.

his birthday became his least favourite holiday for a while. it's torturous having to sit through joan's affections, which she ramps up tenfold for the occasion, and he rarely gets what he really wants in terms of presents. anything he wants is watered down for joan's approval. corey hasn't had a birthday party since he was five years old, but joan still makes a show of getting him a cake and lighting the candles after dinner. the effort to keep joan sweet and show enough appreciation for her giving birth to him is enough to fry his nerves for the whole day.

halloween soon takes the number one spot though. you can't really have a worse holiday than the anniversary of the time a child died in front of you.