#but i can do a bonus where they do if you want

[norikuna]

LAST FRIDAY NIGHT — choso kamo

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (d) and let the show begin !

prologue. → it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

but it's been years since choso had started silently loving you.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings. vírgin!choso, spítting, kíssing, makíng out, thígh kínk (mild), yuuji being a menace 😭

word count. 8k! song inspiration. last friday night — katy perry

a/n. i can't believe i don't write for choso more. i really put a lot of love into this fic but i wish i had expanded on it a bit more 😭 one thing abt me is that i love adding side characters to cóck block

mp3. think we kissed, but i forgot!

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? breakups happen every day — you don't have to lose it."

you jab at the skip button like it's personally offended you, cutting off the mournful strains of the evermore bonus track mid-verse. normally, you'd let the singer's poetic misery hold your fragile heart in a pretty gentle chokehold, for she understood your heartbreak like a nobel laureate in emotional devastation. but not today.

not on this particularly dreary friday, right before christmas, where even ms. swift's dulcet agony felt obnoxiously on the nose.

pinned under the suffocating weight of your quilt, you let out a dramatic sigh that could rival a victorian heroine wasting away from heartache and humiliation.

with the theatrics of someone clawing their way out of a shipwreck, you work one arm free, waving it weakly into the air like your tragic signal of defeat.

the cocoon of your quilts and covers isn't warm nor comforting. it's a smothering trap, a quilted tomb of your own making.

"this is it," you mumble to the empty air of the apartment, your voice muffled by layers of fabric, "this is how i go."

the universe, for its part, remains unbothered by your suffering.

with a theatrical groan that would earn you a standing ovation in a one-person tragedy, you yank the quilt over your head. plunging yourself into darkness once more.

but unfortunately, the muffled strains of your 'sad girl winter' playlist refusing to take the hint seep through, like overly persistent ghosts of your bad decisions in the past. it seemed that evermore was feeling less like a balm for your soul, and more like the soundtrack to your public humiliation.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of your bed, half pillows and half-sulking regret, your poor and neglected nintendo switch lies face down like it gave up on your hours ago. its screen has long since gone dark, but if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear your animal crossing villagers whispering conspiratorially, drafting a formal petition to evict you.

no doubt tom nook is already sharpening his capitalist claws, repossessing your house with an unsettling amount of glee.

but the rest of your room is not much better. the string lights on your walls flicker half-heartedly, casting an uneven glow over the wreckage of the past week.

it's not the charming nor dramatic kind of mess that makes for an artsy photo dump. no, this is the slow and unflattering unravelling of someone who let life beat them up with zero resistance. if rooms could file restraining orders, yours would have done it by now.

teetering laundry piles of discarded sweatshirts are haphazardly stacked in the corner. nearby, an empty hot cocoa mug sits, sticky with the remnants of whipped cream. candy cane wrappers are strewn across the room, the aftermath of a peppermint explosion that made your jaw ache.

but the true centrepiece of this disaster? your phone, face down on your nightstand. neglected and on silent. the one object in this room that's probably begging for attention, and one that you've been skilfully ignoring. and yet, right on cue, it buzzes again.

lighting up with a contact number that you've been ignoring all week.

choso.

and you squint at the notification, at the glowing screen that makes your eyes sting in the dim light.

sweet, dependable and utterly loyal choso.

your best friend of over a decade. the one person that you can't bring yourself to face.

the one person that also deserves so much better than this radio silence, and yet the last person that you can humanly confront. especially not after what happened last friday night.

and here, good friends, lies the crux of your problem.

that doomed night, seven days ago, has mostly dissolved into a series of blurry and fragmented snapshots. like a bad, half-finished film that you'd walked out of halfway through.

but the lead up? oh, you remember that part with the kind of clarity that should have been reserved for more important moments.

you could still feel the heat of storming out of that overpriced restaurant, half-drunk and fully pissed off, tears streaming down your cheeks and thickening your throat.

your ex-boyfriend? well, he had been your current boyfriend, before he decided to break up with you. in public. for all that classy, emotional damage that was so in character for him.

and with a line so perfectly cliché, it practically begged to be immortalised on a 'worst breakup excuses' list in cosmopolitan: i'm sorry, baby. i just don't see it working anymore. we're just too different. oh! and i found someone else.

oh, sure. but you should have been glad to have been rid of the man-child that thought frankenstein was the monster's name, the man who commented 'oxford study' on innocent tiktoks, and called pinterest 'girl instagram.'

god, what a fuckin' loser.

fuelled by a mix of public-induced heartache and questionable tequila choices, you had practically charged across street crossing. your feet hitting the pavement with the reckless kind of abandon reserved for teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

and there choso had been in your apartment. your best friend had been sitting cross-legged on your rug, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. probably wrapping yuuji's christmas gifts with military precision. he had been balancing a roll of tape in his mouth, scissors over his lap dangerously close to the family jewels. but you had barrelled through the door like a feral cat in a downpour.

his eyes had widened, a little startled, as you made your entrance. the tape had fallen out of his mouth, chestnut hair falling over his face as he gaped. you couldn't blame choso, of course. you had looked entirely like a bedraggled, disheveled mess in a storm. cheeks streaked with mascara trails, but then everything went...fuzzy?

what did you remember? crying. lots of it.

and boy, was it a show. the kind of weeping where your face contorts into a puffed-up, berry-red disaster, and you would feel the headache creeping in even before the tears had finished.

choso's arms had caught you before you could face plant into the couch. solid, broad. warm and familiar.

you had caught the scent of clove and pepper, alongside faint citrus that you had been associating with him over the years. you had been saying something, raw and desperate.

your words had spilled out of you like water from a broken faucet.

and here you were now, reaping the glorious consequences of your own unfiltered word vomit.

seven days of stewing in your own shame and regret. but seven days were not enough to undo this level of self-sabotage. you briefly considered the options: faking amnesia, dropping out of university entirely, or best case scenario — moving to antarctica and herding emperor penguins.

you groan, sinking deeper into the abyss of your covers. and then, of course, your phone buzzed again. the dull and persistent vibration drilled into your skull like a tiny, digital drill.

cho 💜

(01:09am) hey, are you doing okay? (08:42am) tell me if you need anything! (04:23pm) hello? did i do something?

you peek at the screen, trying to avoid making eye contact with the tiny and terrifying letters. your sheet mask scrunches uncomfortably, making you look like a particularly pathetic mummy. choso's sweet and utterly patient messages were a sharp control to your gross sulk, and his concern makes you want to curl into a ball and crawl into a snowbank.

outside, christmas snow fell gently, blanketing the world in a soft and untouched white. it was like something out of a dream, a world of calm and peace. peace that your trifling ass didn't deserve.

if choso wanted to speak to you, he'd have to drag you out of your self-imposed misery himself. and even if he were to arrive at your apartment door, he'd only find a note tacked to the wall. with a map leading to the south pole.

so, what exactly had happened last friday night?

the memory rolls out like an old film reel, all jagged and distorted. the kind that you can't skip, even if you wanted to. it comes in fragments, each one more excruciatingly clear than the last. the haze of vodka-infused whipped cream shots over hot drinks slowly melting away like a bad handover.

the door to your apartment? you remember that part with embarrassing clarity. you had kicked it open with awful, ragged flair. your heel slipping on the floor, and you had nearly stacked it. face-first into your own doorway, standing there with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates.

the second the door had slammed shut behind you, a gust of frigid winter shot through the apartment like a chill reminder of your situation.

choso had been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, in the midst of complete, barbaric chaos. the roll of mauve wrapping paper teetered precariously on his dark jeans, and scissors dangled from his lap while a stripe of tape was wedged between his teeth. in between the mess of clippings and discarded tape, he seemed more like an absurdly morose-looking christmas elf that had been tasked with being santa's helper after an entire bottle of mulled wine.

but as you had walked in, or rather stumbled in, his gaze had shot up. his chestnut hair falling in messy curtains around his face, with one unruly strand intertwined with a red-white rogue ribbon. choso's face had twisted in alarm, his usual solemn manner replaced by someone who looked like they were trying to figure out whether they needed to brace themselves for good or bad news.

"hey," he had said, voice soft but sharp, like he was trying to handle fragile glass. choso had spat the tape out of his mouth unceremoniously, and he had been tugging the ribbon free rom his hair, concern all over his fine features, "what's wrong? are you okay?"

and you? a disaster. drunk, crying, furious. the recipe for an emotional molotov cocktail.

"i hate him," you had snarled, yanking off your beige coat, hurling it in the general direction of the couch. instead, your aim missed entirely. flopping halfway onto the floor, and halfway across choso's knee.

choso simply plucked the coat off his leg with two fingers, gingerly draping it over the arm of the couch. your best friend was frowning as he set down his oversized scissors, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. amber-hazel eyes flicked to yours, wide with alarm as he stepped closer, "are you hurt? is this about —?" he was hesitating, "your boyfriend?"

"no, my ex-boyfriend!" the words were ripped out of you, and your voice pathetically cracked halfway through as tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, "and 'm not hurt, cho. unless you count emotional damage," punctuating your statement with a tragic, breathy hiccup.

choso's perpetual frown deepened, as thick and unruly brows knit together, "okay," he said, voice low and steady, "do you want to sit down? i can get you some water, wait." his steps are slow, purposeful as he closes the distance between you gently, with measured care. or like he was defusing a bomb.

but you were having none of his gentle care, "no, i don't want water! i want — i want to un-date him," you wail, arms flailing as you start pacing like a caffeinated hamster, "god, i'm so stupid for dating him in the first place. and yes, i know, stop looking at me like that. i know you want to say i told you so, but he's such a —," you pause mid-rant, clawing the air for the right word, "a troll. a goblin, an ogre."

choso blinks, "maybe you should just get some fresh water in you," but there's an underlying layer of grimacing amusement painted over his quiet features, "and i didn't even say i told you so."

"no," you blurt, your head snapping so fast that your neck immediately files a complaint in the form of a sharp crick, "i don't want water. i want —"

and then, your brain short-circuited. because that's when you'd actually looked at him. like really looked.

warm hazel eyes framed by dark, sleepless circles that seemed to follow choso around like cursed ghosts. soft, feathery strands of mahogany hair that refused to stay tied back, and tumbled rebelliously into his face. that damn sweatshirt, loose and charcoal gray, and perfectly slouched over his broad shoulders. the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal forearms so solid that they could make a renaissance sculptor pack and quit.

and like a freight train at full speed, like whee-woo, the realisation hit you. choso kamo.

your best friend in the entire world. your steady and reliable, and kind to a fault best friend. better than any stupid ex that you'd ever had.

and because tequila is the nectar of chaos, and heartbreak has no filter, your mouth decided to unleash the words that you would haunt you for the next week.

"i should have been dating you."

the room is silent, as choso freezes entirely. like someone had smacked the pause button on him, and his hand, mid-reach for a glass of water, stops cold. his eyes are wide, mouth parting as though he hadn't yet processed what you had said.

"what?" choso finally manages, the words soft and stunned, like he wasn't sure that he had heard you correctly.

you, in your infinite wisdom (or rather, drunken idiocy), barrelled on like a bull who had just seen red cloth, "i'm so serious! you're the one i should've been with all along!"

you wave a hand at him, as if showcasing him to an invisible jury, "you're smart and you're sweet, and you actually care about me, unlike him!"

choso blinks, his expression unreadable, "okay," he says slowly, setting the glass back down on the table, "i think maybe, uh, you should sit down?"

"i don't wanna sit down, i want you to stop looking so perfect right now."

there's a faint flush creeping up choso's neck, like red pigment staining cream watercolour canvas, "perfect?"

"yes!" you hiccuped, teetering over the couch, "you're supposed to be my best friend, and instead you just stand there with your stupid forearms, and your everything, and it's not fair!"

choso doesn't move, doesn't even speak. just stands there, vaguely dumbstruck. like you had hung the moon, and then yanked it back down to earth to hurl it at his chest.

"i should've been dating you, cho," you declare again, louder this time, and your finger jabs his broad chest like it was somehow his fault, "you're the best, y'know that? and you're so hot, how did i not realise this sooner?"

your best friend's expression goes on a journey of varying emotions, shock and disbelief, panic and confusion. all while his candied pink lips open and close, "uh," because by now, eloquence had left the room for both parties. his hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to steady you or flee. his ears noticeably red, the flush creeping down his neck.

but drunk-dumped you wasn't done. oh no, this was your oscar moment. the hill you were going to die on. the ted talk that no one asked for.

and you were on a roll now, "i mean, look at you! you've got the broody, hot guy thing down so well, and you know that's my type. and everyone knows it, like why aren't we dating already?"

choso's mouth curls again, but no sound comes out. he looks like he wants to crawl into a snowbank and bury himself there forever, "okay, i think maybe you should sit down before you hurt yourself, or, uh, the furniture."

"i'm fine!" you'd declared, throwing your arms up in defiance just as your knees decided that they were absolutely not fine. you wobbled, and in an instant, choso's warm hands are on your shoulders, steadying you with ease.

the searing heat of his touch makes your heart lurch in a way that felt far too real for comfort. you look up at him, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, and your breath hitches.

he's close enough now that his lips could press against yours with the mere turn of his head. but you know that choso's just too kind and thoughtful to kiss you in this state right now. he also looks like he's about to gently suggest that you pull yourself together. you wouldn't know, because you've just bulldozed right over him with zero brakes.

tears stream down your face still, but they're starting to slow. sticky and hot, tacking to your cheeks, as you deliver the final blow, "if i asked you to kiss me now — like genuinely right now, would you, cho?"

you would never know what choso's reply would be, because you hiccup violently. the kind that punches your chest and makes you sway. fate was never done with you, because your stomach lurches in warning. you had clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with panic.

choso, bless his heart, had looked ready to throw himself in front of you, "bathroom. now," he'd commanded, his voice taking on a rare, firm edge.

and that's right where your memory cut off, mercifully plunging you into the black void of your vodka-soaked brain. no idea if you'd made it to bathroom. no idea if you'd thrown up all over him, classy as always.

but the last thing you did remember, the thing that haunted you eve now, like a ghost tapping on your shoulder, was the look on choso's face. wide-eyed, jaw slack. like you had flipped his entire world upside down.

choso sits cross-legged on the cold dorm floor, the faint creak of wood beneath him. in his hands is a neatly wrapped gift, small and unassuming. but painstakingly chosen for you. the crimson ribbon, shiny and festive, catches the light of the desk lamp.

it wasn't extravagant, nothing flashy nor pricey. but it was thoughtful, personal. something that he had picked out weeks ago, back when everything between you two had been normal.

back when you didn't look at your phone, and decide he wasn't worth answering.

choso's thumb grazes the corner of the box, smoothing over the edges of the paper that he had meticulously folded after watching youtube tutorials. but now? the box felt heavier than it had any right to. would you even want this anymore? would you even want to see him?

choso sighs, letting his head tip back against the edge of his bed frame. it was a tight and awful feeling, something small and sharp that had wormed its way into his chest.

it wasn't just the silence. it wasn't even the unanswered texts or the way you’d been avoiding him like he was the human incarnation of bad news.

it was the fact that you were you. his best friend. the person he always knew how to read — until now, when everything felt scrambled.

he stares at the gift again, his brows furrowing. he'd been turning this over in his mind for seven straight days, wearing grooves into his thoughts like a track stuck on repeat. did you regret it? did you even remember what you said?

and worse — what if you did mean it?

that last thought was the one that always hit hardest. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into his face. somewhere on his desk, his phone buzzed softly, and for a second, his pulse jumped. but when he checked, it wasn't you.

because of course it wasn’t.

"pathetic," choso muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

seven days.

seven long, agonising days since you'd stumbled into your apartment like the ghost of heartbreak past — tear-streaked, half-drunk, and dropping words so raw they’d knocked the air out of choso's lungs.

seven days since you’d looked at him like he was everything good in the world — right before nearly puking on him and passing out on the couch in a heap of drunken devastation.

and seven days of brutal radio silence ever since.

choso groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slouched against the edge of his bed. he got it — why you'd be embarrassed. he, he was still processing it, the memory looping in his head like a cursed highlight reel.

"you're amazing, cho. you're perfect."

the words echoed, soft and slurred, over and over like a broken record choso couldn’t shut off. a selfish part of him — a really shameful, awful part — had been glad your ex was out of the picture. not that it was a surprise; choso had never liked that guy. too loud, too cocky. the kind of guy who thought buying overpriced cologne absolved him of skipping deodorant.

but then there was the other part of him — the one that made him feel like a jerk. the part that felt guilty for feeling anything at all. because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

choso wasn't supposed to have spotify playlists privately curated with all your favourite songs. wasn't supposed to have started buying extra hair ties, just because the thought of you stealing one was so annoyingly appealing.

and he definitely wasn't supposed to have been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for five years and counting.

how many times had he messaged now? four? five? enough that he was starting to feel like that guy, the one who couldn’t take a hint. what if you'd sobered up and realised last friday was just drunk nonsense? what if you didn't like him like that at all?

had he not spent seven days drowning his misery in tubs of mango and pistachio ice cream? enough was enough.

choso's thumb hovered over your contact for a long, stupid second, debating whether to send one more pointless text. but before he could add another "hey, just checking in," he swiped away and hit a different contact. a boisterous teenager with a shock of pink hair.

he shoots off a quick text, almost grimacing as he hits send.

Choso Kamo: Need advice. Got a hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: if this is smth weird i'm not googling it for u

choso rolled his eyes, already regretting this decision. but he needed to hear an outside opinion.

Choso Kamo: It's not weird, serious this time. If someone confesses something private to you while they are drunk, then avoids you for a week, what do you do? Hypothetically?

a pause, and then:

yuujithegoat2003: is this someone a hot girl lol

choso sighed, his dry lips twitching despite himself.

Choso Kamo: Yes. Also, serious answers only. yuujithegoat2003: ok ok. do they remember what they said? Choso Kamo: Most likely not.

yuujithegoat2003: huh...so did they say something good? or was it rude? Choso Kamo: It was good. Really quite good. yuujithegoat2003: bro this seems easy, just ask if they meant it.

choso blinked at his phone, at the...almost reasonable response. suspiciously reasonable, coming from his younger brother.

Choso Kamo: And if they freak out? Or say that they didn't mean it? yuujithegoat2003: then u say 'just kidding' and blow the place up and leave the country. i can get u a fake id, i know a guy. i know lots of guys.

Choso Kamo: You need to stop being influenced by Gojo Satoru. Just because his public break-up landed on national news does not make it a premise for my own situation. Hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: ok, gojo just said no one gaf abt your love life anyway. seriously tho if u like this hypothetical person, just be chill. don't be all intense and scare them off bc its never that deep.

Choso Kamo: Love is that deep. Especially when you care for the other person a lot. yuujithegoat2003: ur so dramatic bro. anyway good luck.

yuujithegoat2003: also if you get rejected don't tell me bc i can't handle second hand embarrassment. thx. gtg to work. these pizzas don't deliver themselves ay

choso glances down at the gift still in his lap, the ribbon he'd so painstakingly tied now a little crushed — much like his pride. the box stares back at him accusingly, as if to say, what's the plan here, genius? wait for her to magically show up?

choso exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. sitting here wallowing wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither was yuuji's unhelpful voice.

"yeah, sure," he mutters under his breath, shoving the box into his jacket pocket. he stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

if you weren’t going to talk to him, fine. he'd bring the conversation to you. answers, he thought, stepping out into the cold. the winter air bit at his face, but it was bracing, grounding even. one way or another, tonight was going to settle this.

the knocking was relentless.

you tried to ignore it at first, clutching your blanket like it was a shield against all outside forces. whoever was at the door would get the hint eventually. probably. hopefully.

but no, the knocking persisted, evolving into a deliberate rhythm, like some overzealous drummer auditioning for a garage band.

"unbelievable," you groaned, peeling your headphones off and tossing them onto the pillow where they landed with a hollow clatter. if this was the pizza guy you'd ordered from two hours ago, he was wildly late, and you were too broke to tip him anyway.

dragging yourself off the mattress felt like an olympic event. your legs wobbled, your blanket fortress collapsed behind you, and your pride was buried somewhere under the covers still. at least you'd showered earlier — small victories.

your damp hair dripped cold trails down the back of your oversized sweatshirt, and you caught a whiff of cocoa butter as you shuffled to the door. that was…something acceptable at least. but then the mirror by the entryway betrayed you, reflecting sleep-swollen eyes, and the faint ghost of face mask residue clinging stubbornly to your skin.

perfect. a vision of grace and dignity.

you yank the door open, ready to unleash a pointed what do you want? — but the words lodge somewhere in your throat.

smooth. and oh, just your luck.

there stood choso, a walking anomaly in the drab matrix of your sad little existence. his tall frame fills the doorway, backlit by the flickering hallway light, clad in a baggy black tee and faded denim that didn't quite match the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. his hair was tied up in a messy bun, spiky strands sticking out like an afterthought, and of course, he looked unfairly good for someone who had probably spent the past week avoiding the sunlight.

"uh, hey," he says, his voice softer than usual — careful, even. like he thought you might throw the nearest piece of furniture at him and sprint into the night.

"hey?" you echo, voice brittle as you folded your arms tighter. the sweatshirt you were wearing — his sweatshirt, one that he had left here weeks ago — suddenly felt two sizes too big and painfully obvious, "what are you doing here?"

choso scratches the back of his neck, his gaze flickering over you briefly before darting to the floor, "i needed to see you."

"at…eight at night? without warning?"

"would you have answered if i'd texted you?"

the air between you stilled as your brain scrambles for a retort, but he had you dead to rights. with a reluctant huff, you step aside. "fair point. just come in."

choso hesitates for half a second before stepping inside, his presence making your already small apartment feel even more claustrophobic. he's taking a quick glance around, and you watched, mortified, as his eyes landed on the pile of crumpled tissues precariously close to a half-drunk mug of cocoa and a bottle of jack daniel's teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

"sorry for the mess," you mutter, your voice defensive as you crossed your arms tighter.

"it's fine," choso says, a little too quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, "i didn't mean to…interrupt."

"you didn't interrupt anything." you wave vaguely at the disaster zone that was your apartment.

choso's lips twitch, almost like he wanted to smile but wasn't sure if now was the time, "look, i just —" he trails off, his usual dull voice faltering as he pulled something small and neatly wrapped from his pocket, "i came to give you this. and talk."

you stare at the gift in his hands, shiny crimson ribbon and all, your pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be, "christmas came early? thanks, cho," you say, mirroring his words with the kind of ease that only comes from too many shared silences. "i'm fine, though. i wasn't up to much."

choso cracks a small, half-hearted smile, but it's like watching a flicker of light in a dim room — there, but not really there. "i tried texting," he says, glancing at you, searching for something.

"i know," you murmur, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "i just wasn't in the mood for much talking."

choso huffs, a sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, "i noticed," he says dryly, and that only makes the air in the room more thick and uncomfortable.

you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as you flop back onto the couch, curling your knees up to your chest like you're trying to make yourself small enough to disappear, "so, what? you came here to check if i'm still breathing?"

"kind of," choso admits, settling awkwardly on the edge of your coffee table, his long legs folded beneath him in that way that makes him look like he’s trying to physically contain himself. his knees bump into yours, and you have to fight the urge to pull away, like you could get too close, "but mostly...i came to talk about last friday night."

your stomach does a horrifying little flip, the kind that sends cold fingers crawling up your spine. you stare at him, silently willing him to read the begging look in your eyes and back off, but he doesn't. he's never been the type to take the hint.

"i've been thinking about it all week," he continues, his voice quiet but steady, as if he's preparing himself for something big, "and i need to know if —"

"nope," you interrupt, holding up a hand, "nope. we're not going there."

choso blinks at you, like he's trying to process the sudden barricate that you've just put up. but you're so not ready for this conversation, not now, nor ever. and you'll be damned if he gets any closer to the minefield. he scowls, his brows knitting together like he's resisting the urge to push you off the couch, "why not?"

"because it doesn't matter, okay?" you lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like you can will this conversation away, "i was drunk as hell, cho. you're overthinking it."

he scoffs, his voice sharp now, like he's cutting through your flimsy deflection with a blade, "i don't think i am."

you wince, shrinking a little under the weight of his stony gaze, "why does this even matter?"

"you think i can just brush it off like it didn't happen?" and there's a rawness in choso's voice that hits you harder than expected.

your cheeks heat up, a fiery blush creeping up your neck, "i didn't mean it," you mutter.

"yes, you did," choso snaps back, with uncharacteristic heat, and he leans forward, enough to close the distance between you two, "and you know how i know? because you've been ignoring me all week. if it was just some drunk nonsense, you would have laughed it off by now. but you haven't."

you open your mouth to argue, to push back. but the words stick heavy in your throat. nothing comes out, and it must prove choso all the more right, because you watch as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth, suddenly watching plush skin split.

"do you want me to apologise?" you ask finally, voice a little too sharp for comfort, "because i will. i'll say i'm sorry for putting you in that position and —"

"i don't want an apology," choso cuts you off, and the dim light of your apartment makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises, "i want the truth."

you freeze, your heart thudding like a drum in your chest, "what truth, cho?"

"that you meant it," choso says softly, "that you meant it when you said that you wish it had been me."

the words hang in the air, heavy and electric. your breath catches, as your mind goes blank. an entire power outage, as you blink at him like a fish out of water. finally, after what feels like an eternity, you force the knot in your throat to loosen just enough to speak, "yeah," you whisper, "i meant it."

choso's whole body seems to deflate, like he's been holding up the weight of the sky. his shoulders slump, and the sheer relief on his face hits you like a tidal wave. it's almost enough to undo you. there's a sound, soft and shaky and far too vulnerable that escapes him.

neither of you move. the moment stretches out, fragile. like it could snap in half if either of you dared to breathe too loud.

then, choso is the first to move.

there's no hesitation, no uncertainty. just pure intention, like a dam finally bursting open. he shifts forward, hands finding their way to your waist with an urgency that makes your pulse go into overdrive. choso's grip is firm, but there's a reverence to it, as if you're something he's waited his entire life to touch. he pulls you to him, and you can feel the heat of him flood your chest, your blood, your bones.

"what if you regret this?" you murmur into his chest, voice muffled as your arms slip around his necks, holding onto the beautiful man like he may float way.

"not a chance," choso replies, and his voice is raspier than you've ever heard it, like he's saying it more to himself than to you.

choso kamo finally kisses you.

the kind of kiss that feels like a storm is finally breaking over clear skies, with an unrestrainted longing that crashes over the both of you.

his sweet lips meet yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, raw and real. choso clearly doesn't want to hold back, and neither do you.

his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly at russet strands.

choso groans into your mouth, a soft and burning thing that ignites every nerve in your body.

without breaking his hold on your lips, his wide hands slide down, finding the back of your thighs, making you shamefully clench them closer together.

but he's tapping them in silent invitation, and you leap into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. the world around you blurs as he stumbles backwards.

and when the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed, gravity does its job. you both tumble into the mattress in a jumbled mess of limbs and muffled laughter, your heart pounding so loud, as you muster up the courage to prod your tongue at his lips, letting him part his mouth so you can take up more of choso.

you land beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the best way possible, sending sharp spikes of heady arousal through you. and you blink up at him, breathless.

choso is so close now, his hazel eyes locked on yours with a rare intensity, like the calm façade is entirely shattered now. but there's a smile on his lips, a crooked little thing that sends a rush of warmth through you.

"hi, choso," you whisper, your voice soft yet breathless as he chases your lips again, a desperate hunger in his eyes. it's as if he can't bear to be apart from you, even for a heartbeat.

"hey," he murmurs back, that low rumble sending shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you can't ignore.

you keep pressing kisses to his glossy lips, the world narrowing down the press of his mouth and how choso's hands cradle your waist like you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

without breaking contact, choso shifts, his strong hands guiding you gently, firmly.

"don' wanna crush you," he spills against your mouth, his voice low and rough, and before you can reply, he flips you effortless.

the movement is seamless, fluid even. and you're suddenly perched atop him, straddling his thighs and sinking into the worn denim of his jeans.

he's leaning back against the covers beneath him, as his chest rises and falls in unsteady waves as he gazes up at you. expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger.

choso looks so completely, heartbreakingly in love with you that it leaves you breathless. his hands tighten on your waist, fingertips pressing with a near bruising intensity into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt that clings to your frame.

his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling pink, and you can't help the soft, teasing coo that slips from your lips as you trace the curve of his temple with gentle fingers, "is something wrong, cho?" you murmur.

his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss, part slightly, his breath uneven and catching on the edges of unspoken emotions, "nothing. nothing, i swear," he says, the words tumbling out rough and raw, his voice pitched low and vulnerable.

his hands slide you closer, his grip firm but trembling slightly, and his next confession nearly undoes you, makes your core moisten even, "just…never done this before."

"really?" you whisper, eyes widening as you take him in — the flush on choso's cheeks, the way he won't quite meet your gaze, the way he holds you like you're something precious.

the realisation that he's never shared this part of himself with anyone else tugs sharply at your heartstrings, "never?"

choso swallows thickly, nodding once, his voice a quiet hum as he admits, "mhm."

"ah, you're so cute, cho," you giggle, watching as the man scrunches his nose in mock protest.

"tch, 'm not meant to be cute."

you huff, feigning disappointment, "and here i was, wishing you a very merry christmas eve." he whines as you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, right where his heartbeat thrums beneath his pale skin. your lips find their home at the juncture, and you can't help but smile at the way he whines at your touch, bucks his hips up into yours.

"must have been real good to get a holiday gift like this."

you pull back just enough to admire your handiwork, a little red bloom that blossoms on thin skin, bruised petals that mark him now. choso's swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, as a soft whine escapes his lips again as you lean in, this time closer to the jaw. leaving a trail of kisses in a messy that makes choso squirm.

you press your thumb against his lower lip, feeling the soft and trembling skin quiver under your touch, "hey. open up," you coax, a teasing lilt colouring your voice.

choso looks up at you, his wide eyes clouded with desire as dark strands of hair fall across his forehead, "huh, what?"

you tap his lip again, impatience bubbling in your chest, "c'mon, open your mouth. properly," and the way he immediately obeys, parting his glossy lips sends a thrill through you. the scent of clove and citrus envelops you as you lean in closer, running your tongue over his lower lip.

you let a glob of spit fall from your lip into his mouth, with a thick thwack! echoing in the air. you deliberately miss, just a little bit, to watch him squirm as he swallows, eyes fluttering shut and inky lashes staining his cheeks.

"so good, aren't you? good at playing nice, hah," you use your thumb to smear the slick over his lips, just a bit. to watch him shudder, entirely captivated by you. it's exhilarating and makes your cunt clench around nothing. probably seeping through the thin material of your shorts and onto his thick jeans.

bang bang bang!

a sharp knock that booms at your door, enough to make your ears ring. you hear choso groan beneath you, shifting slightly so you can feel the full, thick curve of his bulge right where you need him most.

"think we can ignore that?" he rasps, his voice rough and low, the sound of it leave slick strands clinging between your thighs.

you spread your legs just a little wider over him, watching as his frown dissipates and his jaw drops, distracted by the preview you've given him, "i'm really hoping so."

but whoever is at the door has no intention of being ignored. another knock rattles the wood, followed by an all-too-familiar voice yelling, "hey! open up! delivery!"

your brows furrow, recognition sparking, "cho, isn't that—"

he cuts you off with an apologetic sigh, lifting you off his lap with surprising gentleness. choso sets you down on the quilt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before muttering under his breath, "it better not be."

you watch him go, more than a little distracted by the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his messy hair bobs with each step. already, you're plotting exactly how you’ll get your hands back in it once he returns.

choso swings the door open, and you hear a collective, "what the hell?" echo through the apartment — one part you, one part choso, and one part…

"itadori yuuji?" you blurt, leaning over to get a look. sure enough, there's choso's younger brother, standing in the doorway in a bright red pizza delivery uniform, balancing three large boxes in one hand and his phone in the other.

yuuji blinks at the two of you, then raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and something vaguely accusatory before reading off his phone in a robotic voice, "uh…merry christmas eve. i have three pizzas. extra cheese. stuffed crust," he pauses, not able to keep the act up as his golden eyes narrow, "but, uh — bro, what happened to your face?"

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as choso straightens, his expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, "yuuji—"

but the younger man's attention shifts to you, his gaze taking in the oversized sweatshirt you're wearing, choso's sweatshirt, and his jaw drops, "oh hell no. this is the hot girl you texted me about?"

choso visibly flinches as you burst into giggles.

"that's like your best friend? that's like my sister-in-law!" yuuji throws up his hands in mock disbelief, "you really keep your circles tight, huh, man?"

before choso can even respond, yuuji leans in closer, squinting at his older brother, "and seriously, dude, what's all that on your face?"

choso groans, snatching the pizzas from yuuji with one hand and shoving him toward the hall with the other, "okay, that's enough. get out."

"you haven't paid me! that's against the law!" yuuji protests, but choso grabs the scruff of his brother's uniform collar, steering him out the door.

"i'll pay you double. triple. just leave."

"my pizzas are probably cold now anyway," you call out, adding fuel to the fire.

"yeah? well, you look a bit too busy to eat them anyway," yuuji swivels his head over his shoulder to wag a finger at you with a grin, before choso finally shoves him fully into the hallway.

as the door slams shut, you hear yuuji's muffled voice echoing, "i'm telling everyone. i'm telling dad. i'm telling sukuna. i'm telling gramps, gojo, nanami —"

you can hear their bickering voices fade down the hallway, to where choso is probably gonna pack him into the car and send him off.

you glance down at the box you'd set aside earlier, your curiosity getting the better of you. carefully pulling at the ribbon, you open it to find a small scrapbook, beautifully made. inside are photos and clippings of you and choso: movie ticket stubs, receipts from late-night takeout runs, train tickets from your trip to the coast.

your chest tightens as you run your fingers over the familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, a quote from a cheesy romantic movie that you had forced choso to watch with you a few months ago. what an honour it is to be loved like this.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Exchange

Warnings: allusions to parental abuse, non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your father surprises you for Christmas.

Character: Cole Turner

Day Twenty-Three of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Your father’s snarl sends the turkey slipping back into the sink. You spin to face him, holding up your cold hands. 

“Daddy, just doin’ up the turkey,” you blink. “It’s thawed now--” 

“I don’t care about the fuckin’ turkey,” he retorts. “Should be gettin’ yourself ready.” 

You frown and look down at yourself. You wear one of his old shirts, the Ford tee with the hole near the hem and a loose cardigan Shelby from down the way gave you, over loose sweats that were once also his. Nothing you have it really your own, it’s only his scraps, what he doesn’t need anymore. 

“Ready for what?” 

“You questioning me, girl?” He growls. 

You gulp and shake your head. You lower your hand, keeping them away from your clothes as you’re all too aware of the raw poultry all over them. You stare at him. 

“Yes, sir, I'll get ready,” you step forward hesitantly, uncertain as you watch him.  

He huffs through his nose and curls his lip, “presents on your bed. Figure it out.” 

You nod as you come close to him, wary of a lunge as you thank him under your breath. He only shoulders past you and goes to the counter. You’re confused.

Your father doesn’t get you gifts. He doesn’t get anyone gifts. You spent weeks thrifting what you could to give to your aunt and uncles when they got here, altering it all to make it presentable, but he only ever reads his sci-fi books and makes demands. 

You go to the bathroom to wash your hands. You look at yourself in the mirror. Anxiety tenses in your cheeks. Every day roils with the same uneasiness. Every day for more than two decades. You should want to get away but complacence is easier. He hates you but for whatever reason he won’t let you go. 

You go to your room. There’s a bag on your bed. You don’t know why you expected something wrapped or a bow. Still, your surprised by the contents of the paper bag. 

A pink dress with long bloused sleeves and a short skirt. You lift it out and stare in disbelief. You lay it on the bed and take out the shoes with it; little white booties with fur. At the bottom, there’s a box with shiny colours streaked across it; makeup? 

Your father’s footsteps have you facing the door and he appears in his stained flannel, slurping his instant coffee. “Well?” 

“Thank you, daddy, it’s really nice--” 

“Get a move on,” he snaps his fingers at you. 

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you shrink down and turn to gather up the things. 

“Make sure you wash all of ya,” he sneers. “You smell like a dead bird.” 

You swallow down your embarrassment. It feels like a trick. Why would he get you such nice things but still be so mean? Where did he get the money? His Christmas bonus always goes to whatever car he’s clanking around on in the garage. 

You go to your dresser and fish out a bra and some clean underwear. Everything you have are handmedown. They are all forgotten, like you. It feels so strange to have anything brand new. 

You take it all to the bathroom and start the shower. You stick to the golden rule; no more than three minutes to get washed up. Don’t waste the damn water, your father’s voice haunts you. 

You dry off and dress. The dress is nice but a bit snug. It’s too short, isn’t it? You tug at it until you can breathe. 

You once more face your reflection. You are lost. You do your best to tame your hair then put on the dollar store cream.  

You open the box of cosmetics. You read each label and search for any instructions. There’s nothing.  

You uncap the liner and examine the tip. You pull your eyelid taut and meticulous draw a thin line over the edge. You let it go. It looks okay. Not tacky or anything. You do the other and do your best to even them out. 

Next the mascara. You fear scraping your eyes but coat your lashes without incident. It looks better now. You blink as you take in the effect. The blush... you’re not very sure. You blend a bit into your cheeks but don’t think it makes much difference. 

Finally, you gloss your lips with the stick of pink. You like the colour but the sheen feels unnatural and sticky. Your father clears his throat as he prowls outside. You sniff and pack everything up. That’s as good as it gets. 

You step out as he grumbles in the kitchen door frame. You glance over and he huffs. “Put the damn shoes on. Whatcha draggin’ your ass for?” 

You flit back to your room and grab the boots. You think of grabbing socks or something but you don’t have anything to go with the dress. Your legs will just be cold. 

You come back out on the heels, wobbling slightly. Your father storms at you from the front door, moving quicker than you’ve seen. He shoves your coat at you. You pout as you try to unravel his intent. 

“Daddy?” 

“Go wait outside. He'll be here soon, won’t he?” 

“He? Daddy?” 

“You’re so fucking mouthy, go.” 

He jams his thumb at the door and you flinch. You take the coat and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the dress or boots. What’s going on? 

“Are you coming?” 

“Fuck off,” he pushes you toward the door and you stumble into it. 

You put your chin down as you plant your feet and pull away from the door. You put the coat on before you untwist the lock. You are lost. 

He slams the door behind you before you can shut it yourself. You shiver as you step onto the porch and search the wintery country fields. There isn’t much snow, enough to dust the ground, but the air is crisp. Your legs are scalded by the early freeze. 

You stare off in the distance. Your heart pumps faster as a thought startles you. Did your daddy just kick you out? Why? On Christmas? 

You see the square headlights first. The pale blue truck winds down the hidden dirt road and steers towards the old homestead. You squeeze yourself as another chill sweeps over you as you watch the approach. Hooked to the back of the truck is a long trailer, the contents covered. 

You recognise the silver trim of the truck. You squint at Cole through the windshield as he pulls up, the exhaust clouding the frigid air. The door shrieks as he pushes it open and you chatter as you bring your hands to your raw cheeks. 

“Hey, you look frozen,” he says. “Merry Christmas.” 

“M-merry Christmas, sir,” you call back. You still don’t understand. 

“I’ll just unhook the load for your dad, then we can head out,” he grins as he keeps his hand on his open truck door. “Got the heat going, you wanna get in before you freeze your knees off?” 

You wince and turn to peek at the windows. Huh? You shrug and come down the steps. You’re so cold, you don’t care. You just want to stop shivering. 

Cole closes the driver’s door and leads you around to the passenger’s side. He pauses to dust snow off your shoulder as flakes swirl down lazily. His touch somehow makes you colder. He opens it and holds out his gloved hand to help you up. He’s always polite but you don’t see him very much. Your daddy did a few repairs on his truck and he would help with the garden in the summer. You were always inside, locked up. 

You let go of him, your hand thrumming from his warmth. He gently shuts the door and continues towards the rear. The truck jostles as he unhooks the trailer. You peek in the mirror and see the thick ends of the wooden planks poking out from under the tarp. It’s a lot of wood. Expensive, probably. 

None of this makes sense. Cole comes up to the driver side and gets in with a ‘brrrr’. You blow into your hands and he reaches to turn the vent up even higher. He smiles at you as you avoid looking at him. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

You hunch down and rub your hands together, “for what?” 

He’s quiet. He peers through the windshield at the house then back at you. You shrink under his gaze. 

“Did your dad... what did he tell you?” 

You heart thumps. Will you get in trouble if you don’t go along with whatever this is? “He didn’t... he just told me to wait for you.” 

“Ah,” he reaches once more to wipe away melted snow from your sleeve. “Well, er...” He stiffens in his seat. “I thought he’d... say something.” 

You just nod. Whatever you say or do will get back to your daddy somehow. He’ll be mad if you ruin whatever this is. 

“It’s a lot of wood. Your dad says he’s going to add onto the garage,” Cole speaks as he shifts gears and steers away from the trailer, circling back towards his tire tracks. “Not many folks got that kind of money and I don’t really need anything done on the truck.” 

Your lashes flutter in furious thought. It feels like this should be obvious but your mind isn’t clicking. 

“Did I say you look really nice?” He clears his throat. “Cold, but nice. I shoulda bought some stockings too.” 

You look down at the rosy skirt and shake your head. A piece slips into place. Of course it wasn’t your daddy who bought it all. 

“Oh, you—thank you, Cole,” you squeak as you smooth the short hem. 

“Well, I figured you’d want to look pretty. I mean, you always do, but... it’s Christmas, right?” 

He sounds nervous, just as much as you. You wring your hands and look around the white landscape. Your stomach is a storm. 

“It was nice of you to bring daddy all that lumber, sir,” you say. 

“Please, call me Cole,” he insists. He’s quiet for a moment as he steers, then sucks his teeth. “Or you could call me something nicer. Like... honey?” 

“Honey?” You eke out. “Why-- uh... oh?” 

You furrow your nose and rub between your brows. That dark feeling crawls up from your stomach as the doubt in your head trickles down to meet it. It’s not making sense but... 

“You still look cold,” he reaches over to rest his hand on your knee, “you can get warm...” He tickles along your skirt then bends his arm up and stretches it out to grab your shoulder. “Come here.” 

You blanch but make yourself slide over. You tremble as you do. He curls his arm over your shoulders, his other hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. 

“See, isn’t this nice?” 

Your eyes prick as that rotting sensation in your chest overwhelms that voice in your head. You sniffle and touch your nose. You squirm as the cold seeps away to unbearable heat. Your denial melts under the flames of dread. 

“Sir-- Cole,” you twiddle your fingers. “Where are we going?” 

He chuckles and slows, turning to plant a kiss on your hair, “you’re going to come meet mom and dad. They are very excited to have you for Christmas.” He squeezes you even tighter, “not as excited as I am though.” 

Your chest hollows out as if you’ve been hit directly in the heart. You can’t breathe as it sets in. It’s absurd but there’s no other explanation. Did your daddy really trade you for a cartload of wood? 

Well, he always did love his cars more than you. You hope it’s a nice garage, that it’s worth it. Well, it would be worth more than his useless daughter. 

[theorphicangel]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

wc: 2.2k

tags: heian era!sukuna, true form! sukuna, reader is a villager and wears a kimono, gn!reader, mentions of cannibalism (brief), eventual fluff, strangers to lovers??, threat of death, reader has a sense of humor, reader risks life for a peach (real),

synopsis: stumbling in a random field, the gods have granted you the luxury of discovering a rare peach tree and it's all yours for the takings. at least that's what you're mistaken to think before you're confronted by the king of curses himself. coming close to death, you're forbidden to ever return.

it's just a shame you're incapable of listening to rules.

part one | part three | bonus scene

Part 2: Committing the sin

“...And I told him to stick his peaches where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“And then what?!”

“Well, he was so shocked that I spoke to him in that manner and his jaw fell wide open. Then I told him that I wasn’t scared of him and informed him that the tree was public property.”

“What did he say back?” Multiple sets of eyes peer into your face with eagerness and pure excitement. 

You pause for a moment –  for dramatic effect. With a deep breath, you speak again.

“He said, ‘do you not care for your life?’

“What did you say back?! What did you tell him?!” A dark haired child rose in front of you, his eyes wide. 

“I said I wouldn’t regret dying after tasting those appetizing peaches, so if he killed me right there and  then I would nonetheless be happy and satisfied.”

The children sit in a small circle around you, some expressing their glee aloud as their faces were filled with awe of your encounter with the king of curses.

“I squared up to him, unafraid to fight and he walked away first.” You let out a laugh. “His tail was between his legs like a dog,  I doubt he’ll ever come back to that tree!”

“Does he actually have a tail?” a child asked. 

“I thought he had 6 arms.” another child spoke, curiosity filling their tone. 

“I thought he had 9?!”

“No, there was no tail. The king of curses only has 4 arms and really ugly eyes.”

“How many?”

“Four!” You reply and you giggle as the children shudder. “All the better to see you with, I think. Very scary.”

One child says, “I don’t ever want to see him!”

“He’s a monster!” Another spoke. 

“Well, you won’t ever meet the monster if you all promise to obey your parents and not misbehave?”

They nod diligently, hanging onto your every word. One by one they disperse, breaking off into their own stories about the king of curses now based on the new information you had told. 

Among them, your eyes fell upon Miko. She stood alone, waiting for the others to drift away before speaking. You’ve known her to be the shyest girl in the village, with the other kids she doesn’t seem to speak or interact. You usually find her off on her own in the corner, playing on her own in a corner. 

Recently, you’ve taken her under your wing. Whilst her parents work away in the village, you made sure that not all of her hours are spent entirely alone. Interacting with her, you take her along with you on your errands or play along with her games. Even in your company she’s still a quiet kid but you don’t mind as long as she has someone to be with. 

She waits until the majority of children have gone, their conversation too loud to overhear her question. It slips out so quietly you almost think you’ve missed it but you manage to read her lips. 

“Can you get me one?” Miko looks down at her sandals, shy and timid.

You hum, wanting to know what she’s referring to. 

“A peach.” She speaks again, her small lips moving. Again her voice is quiet and her eyes are glued to the ground. “Could you get me one?”

Your heart yearns at the sight. You knew all too well that her family doesn’t have much. They barely manage to get the bare necessities monthly, so the simple act of indulging in the taste of a sweet ripe peach wouldn’t just be a luxury but equate to rich reward for her entire family and their hard work.

Crouching, you meet her eyes. 

“If you’re not scared of the king of curses could you do it?” She mumbles. “If you’re sure that he won’t come back.”

A small part of you hesitates, maybe your exaggeration went too far. The truth of the story weighs heavy in your gut and a part of you considers confessing your dishonesty. But just one glimpse into Miko’s warm coffee eyes and you melt again. You couldn’t break her heart and say no. It would kill you.  

Your gut churns as you mull over your answer. 

There was no part in your body capable of telling her ‘no’ so the corners of your lips flip up into a smile. 

“Of course, I can.”

/

The king of curses is away at battle. For the next two weeks to be presumed. 

Him and his army traveled past the village, heading down with their carts and horses. Obviously, you weren’t present and chose to  hide away to watch from afar. Even from a large distance you couldn’t help but feel his presence, his overwhelming aura seeping into every crevice of your skin.

But at least now you had your chance.

Just one week after his departure, you gained up the courage to return to the forbidden peach tree. You’d hope no one would be present at the estate, perhaps a few servants here and there, but you doubt they would commit to the long walk to the edge of the estate for a mere peach tree.

With a large basket in hand, you set out as early as you could, the sunrise warming up your cheeks. Rays of orange and red mix in the sky, the sunlight fixing its spot in the blue summer sky. 

You retrace your steps you had previously taken a few weeks prior, straying away from the original path. Again, the grass blades tickle at your ankles. Certain that the king of curses has disappeared, you take your time through the field watching as different species of birds fly over your head and how the bees keep obedient to their flowers, collecting their sweet nectar. 

Soon the shadow of the tree comes into view. 

At first glance it seems to be unchanged, however a new difference you picked up on is the range of new peaches available. With adrenaline running, you don’t hesitate to pluck the peaches, multiple at a time. In a span of five minutes your basket is already half full, emerging from your task. You start with the peaches which are easier to reach before dealing with the dreadful task of resorting to your tippy toes.

Before you know it, your eyes are caught once upon a scarlet red peach, perfectly ripe and round. Of course you have to get it, this one would be especially for Miko you think.

The only problem which rose was that the peach was located on the highest branch, straining, it was only a few inches away from your fingertips.

“Almost—” you strain, your tongue pokes out the side of your mouth.

“Seems like insolent fools never learn.”

A rough voice echoes into the distance at the exact moment that you manage to pluck a peach from the highest branch.  At the sound of a gruff tone,  a shiver runs up your body and the peach falls from your hand, dropping to the grass and rolling away.

Just as you felt previously, a menacing aura came over you, washing over your body like a heavy tide. Your temperature drops and your mind freezes, his ever so familiar aura now hitting you like a slap to the face. 

Of course, you turn to find the king of curses standing behind you. Tall and treacherous, you cower away, dropping to your knees.

He’s back. One week earlier than expected. 

Bowing your head, your mind runs over the brutal image of his appearance. Blood stains over his body and skin, dry of course and scars litter his chest, shirtless in front of you. 

“I thought I warned you to stay away, did I not?”

You clear your throat before speaking, your voice shakes. “You did, my lord.”

“So why did you not heed my warning? Do you wish death upon yourself?”

“No my lord, I-” you cut yourself off, searching for words which fail to leave your lips. Your hesitation and silence only seems to aggravate Sukuna.

“Speak.” He orders.

“I wanted to bring peaches back for the villagers.”

Sukuna doesn’t speak again. Trembling, you keep your eyes down onto the grass. He must be eyeing your basket right now.

You were definitely going to die. This was it. You had gotten away with it before and by the gods he was not going to let you leave alive again. 

The king of curses wouldn’t make that same mistake twice. 

Suddenly you find your chin in his palm and he forces you to look up at him. His eyes are cold and deadly. No ounce of human empathy or compassion lingers in his pupils. 

“You wanted to bring some peaches back for the villagers.”

You nod, a quiet whisper leaving your lips. “Yes.”

“Pathetic.” He spat.

From then on you expected to feel some form of pain. You have heard multiple stories about his brutal killings, simply decapitating limbs of people without a single care. Some people say it’s best to be killed right away by the King of Curses rather than his cruel method of allowing his victims to bleed out and die slowly.

Your body freezes to expect a pinch of pain, a stab, a slice – anything, anything at all yet it doesn’t seem to hit you. Tilting your head upwards ever so slightly you notice a wound on the right side of his torso. . Blood, freshly red, drips down his side, staining his skin and clothes. 

“You’re injured.” It comes out as a murmur, pathetic and weak. 

Sukuna says nothing more as if he hadn’t heard you in the first place. You bow your head deeper, almost ashamed for pointing it out. Perhaps it would come across that you intercepted the King of curses as weak. A king having a deep wound is something that he wouldn’t want others to know. 

But— you could still use it as some sort of excuse. 

“It’ll get infected.” You speak again, gaining more confidence in your tone. “If you don’t clean it up soon.”

“I have taken care of it.” Sukuna speaks. “It’s just a scratch.“

You let out a scoff. “Barely, you’re bleeding out heavily.” 

“What’s it to you? It has nothing to do with you.” He snaps, his tone rising. 

“I have a speciality in helping people with wounds and illnesses. I could help you.” You raise your head slightly at your offer. You outstretch your hand towards his blood drenched clothes. 

“I do not like to be touched, I will heal myself.” 

You glance up at the king of curses, studying his face. For the first time you sense a feeling of exhaustion within Sukuna’s eyes, heavy lidded and tired. The king of curses was on the verge of passing out.

“I could help you–”

“I don’t need help from a thief.”

“A thief!?”

“The tree is on my property is it not?”

“I–”

“And this is the second time you have been caught stealing, correct?”

“My lord—”

“Correct?” His tone is rough, cutting you off with a sharpness that causes goosebumps to appear on your body. 

You say nothing, looking down at your feet. You can feel his eyes bore into you. “Pathetic human.” He mumbles.

You swallow, saying nothing more. Your hands turn into fists by your side. Just from your expression and energy Sukuna  feels your growing anger with every second that passes.

All of a sudden, the band snaps and you can’t hold in your emotions anymore. The next time you speak, you refuse to cover up your venomous tone.  

“And you’re just as pathetic as me if you can barely heal your own wound. You call yourself the king of curses for what?”

A silence comes after your words, not even the sound of rustling trees or tall grass can be heard. It takes no longer than a second for you to feel deep regret for your words. Similar to your first ever encounter with the king of curses, the fear of death looms upon you. 

If you thought he wouldn’t kill you the first time then he definitely will now. 

You await the moment for him to strike you. A pinch of pain, a slice, a beheading or even a stab to your stomach. Anything to disperse you as soon as possible. 

Instead of a violent action, he chooses to speak again with a challenging invite.

“So how would you suggest you would heal me?”

Did you hear him right?

You stammer, words failing to leave your mouth. “To heal you?”

He stares at you in contempt, “You said you knew how to take care of wounds, do you not?”

“I do.” 

“So…?” Sukuna raises a brow.

Your mind searches for a solution, malfunctioning under his venomous gaze. 

There’s a stream nearby, I could guide you to it so you can clean it.”

A pause.

“Where is this stream you think of?”

“Over there.” You point behind him.

“So be it.” He speaks in a gruff tone. “Lead the way”

You manage to get your feet whilst succumbing to a daze.

How have you managed to escape the punishment of death a second time from the King of curses?

Glancing behind you, the basket of peaches tempts you. There would be no point in taking it and running, you knew that he could kill you in an instant. The plump peaches would have to wait, for now you have to focus on surviving Sukuna.

You leave the basket behind.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

lmk if you would like to be tagged for part three!

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto's First Kiss Update | Chapter 8 Snippet

A lil update for my lovely readers as we officially enter the holiday season!

Chapter 8 of Shoto's First Kiss is almost ready, y'all! Appreciate the patience :) I'm trying to work through some tough dialogue scenes and make everything flow well.

At my latest estimate, this chapter will be at least 30 pages when I finally post!!!

I have off this week for the holidays so I will be working through editing and trying to get this posted as soon as possible (and as soon as I feel it's truly ready for the world!).

ALSO!! The smut scene is really hot - I think you'll all be pleased :) I'm going to post a snippet of it below the cut to get you excited for the next chapter. I think you'll be able to get a good idea of where the next chapter will take us smut-wise 😉

Thirsting for some Shoto smut right away? I posted this new one shot last week:

Frisky Movie Date | Shoto x Reader

This also exists:

Shoto Discovers He Has a Daddy Kink

And, as per usual, here's the chapters of Shoto's First Kiss that are available so far:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 7: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 7

Bonus! I'm posting a snippet from the next chapter to hold you all over until the next post.

🚨Spoiler Alert🚨 Contains drafted content from Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 8!!! If you want to wait for the full chapter to be released, don't read any further. This is a draft so obviously it's subject to change :)

“You like watching me bench press?” You say cheekily, recalling a moment a few months ago when you had made awkward eye contact with Shoto at the gym. At the time, you’d thought it was just a coincidence – your eyes had accidentally met while you were completing some reps on the bench and he was doing pull ups nearby. But now that he had divulged his attraction to your lifting…

“Yes.” He buries his face in your neck, radiating heat. “The look in your eyes when you bench. Fuck.”

“How hard are you right now, Shoto?” You groan, rolling your ass against him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat in answer to your question. “Yeah that’s what I thought. Unzip your pants – I want to give you a handy.” You start to pull away from him so you can turn around, but he holds you fast in his arms.

“No.” He says soundly, surprising you. You’re certain that most men aren’t quick to turn down a hand job. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something else I want to do right now. If you’re up for it.”

“Oh yeah?” This whole situation is unexpected – hooking up in a closet during a secret party? Yeah, definitely not on your UA bucket list. You tilt your head so you can look at him more clearly. His eyes are stormy, his hair mussed up just so. He looks so devastatingly hot and needy, you practically cum on the spot.

“I’ve been wondering…” He says quietly, running a finger back and forth on your lower stomach, causing your pussy to quiver in your panties. “What would it feel like to touch you…more intimately?”

“More intimately?” You squeak, and you feel his fingers slide under the elastic waistband of your skirt, tracing gently across the delicate skin of your waist. You feel your pulse quicken as you realize what he’s getting at.

He kisses up your neck and you feel his breath in your ear – hot and wet. He traces his fingers across the waistband of your panties now, moving his fingertips in a slow, circular motion. You’re so wet you can barely stand it. It’s not a stretch for your brain and body to imagine how that motion would feel on your bare pussy.

“Ever since you gave me a hand job for the first time…well, I’ve been wanting to return the favor.” Shoto says softly, and your brain feels like its full of static.

Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He wants to finger you and get you off?!

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

And that's all for now, folks! See you soon for the official chapter post!

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

[sylenth-l]

Ok I have a technical question today because I want to understand the media you use more. I’m looking at this fantastic portrait/study you just did of Colovance again and I’ve registered you included color swatches for it. But what got me kind of wondering here is the peripheral images: it’s obvious you used the same palate for them but they’re paler. Is this one of those cases where you have to use bleach for to lighten the pigments, or do they thin out just with water for that faded look?

(As an aside, that green you have for his robes is just SO luscious! Man what a pretty color…!!! 💚)

It's just the same colors diluted with water, yes! The same dark green mixed with bleach is used there too however; but it's in the place you probably don't expect :D I have an expanded palette of color swatches glued to the previous page. The horizontal strokes are done with different amount of water added and vertical lines is bleach (don't mind the drops, I've accidently splashed dirty water all over this OTL):

As you can see, bleach works differently on every ink here - it makes reddish colors almost white and barely works on caramel yellow at all. And this super dark rich green unexpectedly turns blue when subjected to bleach. Depending on mixing proportions, it goes from grayish warm blue to very bright electric blue! And this same bright blue also shows up when you drop the ink wet-on-wet. Here's a clearer demonstration done in my mixing sketchbook:

So actually Timur's shirt is the same green ink, just bleached out :D I think it's very fitting and I'm quite happy with how this mix turned out, I want to use it more. I also used bleach and a tiny brush to draw ornament on the books, especially the black one - it's my favorite black ink that easily turns gold when bleached, and looks almost like it's glowing. Absolutely in love with this thing. Such curious properties are the reason why I love working with inks so much, you can't achieve this with any other media.

Bonus photo of the full spread with a junk-ish mood board (??? Or however you call this 😅 I had no energy to actually draw something here and an empty page looked way too sad, so it's this):

PS: I had a tiny visitor outside my window while taking pictures for this post, so have her too:

[avelera]

I loved your post on Jayce's lack of haggling skills, I thought it was really interesting! It made me think about the class divides that have to exist within the twin cities, actually, independent of Piltover's sovereignty over Zaun. Like we know that Jayce is more middle class (especially compared to characters like Caitlyn) and that the chem barons are comparatively rich when held up next to the average Zaunite laborer, but now I'm wishing we had more insights to how classism works within the cities. I also wish we had more information on Viktor's background in Zaun. Like where did his family rank on the economic/social scale compared to other Zaunites? How'd they manage to get him into the academy? I'd love to hear your thoughts/observations/theories/etc, if you've got any to share!

So I agree and writer of the show Amanda Overton agrees that one thing I think we'd all like to know more about is Viktor's background. BUT we do have some word-of-god (which means, outside canon technically and could be changed later, but can still inform a canon read) information about Viktor:

"We have a backstory for Viktor that wasn’t made canon to explain how he got into the Academy. His parents saved their money to buy him a uniform and he pretended to be a student until he gained Heimerdinger’s attention. Instead of punishing him, Heimer made him his assistant!!" (Source)

I think if you want to learn more about a possible inspiration for the way Piltover/Zaun's class divide works in Arcane (I can't speak to League of Legends where it's very different) I would highly suggest this lecture series about London from The Great Courses Plus.

Specifically, lectures 14-17 talk about the rise of industrialization and how that impacted London, its class divides, the introduction of social services like the first orphanages and its sewage system (implied to be very similar to the ventilation system installed in Zaun by the Kirammans) which was built to combat cholera, and the class frustrations that led to the rise of workers' rights movements and the first legal pushback really in the world against things child labor.

I can absolutely guarantee this history of London in the late 1700s-early 1900s was at least a major contributor if not a purposeful direct parallel to the simmering class resentments and wealth disparities we see between Piltover and Zaun in the show. And as a bonus, you learn a lot about a real world parallel that can really enrich your understanding of history and current events!

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 6 - Bonus

Summary: poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o AU. WC: 850

CW: mentions of heat, mentions of sex.

TVD masterlist - next bonus

Enjoy <3

“So how many hours do you think we’ll have to kill?” Johnny asks as he spots Kyle.

“Depends on how out of practice he is.” Kyle chuckles.

“I reckon he’s got more stamina then he claims. Just likes to watch us do all the work.” Johnny says winking at him.

“Pff, you’re a menace you know that.” Kyle says, putting the weights down.

“What do you think LT?” Johnny calls over at Simon, who’s sat on the next machine reading a file.

“None of my business Soap.” He says without looking up. Kyle looks up at Johnny moving off the machine.

“Christ what’s up your arse today?” Johnny scoffs taking Kyle’s place on the bench press.

“What do you think it’s going to be like when she’s in heat?” Kyle asks.

“Don’t know. Dr. Montgomery knows what she’s doing.” Johnny says picking up the weights. “Besides we’re not the ones who have to worry, right Si?”

Simon sighs trying not to let his irritation come through.

“She’s definitely pretty.” Johnny says. Simon looks up at him as she brings the weights down.

“What you thinking about?” Kyle asks.

“Nothin’ just mentioning ‘s all.” He grunts pushing the weights back up. Simon sighs again going back to the file.

“You’re sayin’ you wouldn’t if you had the opportunity?” Johnny asks the room sitting up. Kyle scoffs.

“Well, it seems so complicated.” Kyle says shrugging.

“Pff, it’s just sex.” Johnny chuckles. Simon stands up. Kyle and Johnny watch as he heads to the door.

“Where you off too?” Johnny calls.

“To find some peace and quiet.” He calls back.

“Jesus. Do you know how quiet you are?” Piper says jumping at the hulking figure who seemingly just appeared next to her. Simon smiles under his mask.

“What are you working on?” He asks. She sighs pulling a paper towards her.

“Hale made the formula to resist almost all known pathogen’s. I’m trying to find if there are any he missed.” She says as he comes round to sit next to her. “You okay? I would have thought you’d be in bed by now.”

“Fine.” He replies. There’s a silence in the air, Piper doesn’t push him scrolling through something on her computer.

“Why did she choose him over me?” Simon doesn’t move, his gaze fixated on the piece of paper in front of him. Piper looks over at him, he fidgets with the paper.

“I don’t think she did.” She says. She’s not quite sure what to say. She has to be careful with her words.

“Simon, it’s normal to have the same urges as John. But it’s not her fault how things have happened.”

“I know that.” He scoffs, there's hostility in his voice. “Never mind.”

Piper goes back to the computer. The data she’s looking at suddenly seems like the most tedious job in the world.

“You told me you thinks she hates you.” She says, testing the waters. He just hums pushing the piece of paper away. “Do you still think that?”

“No.” He sighs. “I think she’s scared of me.”

“She’s not scared of you. She’s not used to having people around her she can trust. Especially alpha’s.” She says looking over at him. “You already come across as an intimidating person.” He turns to look at her and she smiles. She can’t read his expression under the mask as easy as she wants to. He looks back down at the table.

“You could try going for a walk with her. She likes the outdoors.” She suggests. He hums.

“Do you really think there could be a double claiming?”

“I don’t know. But if you would have asked me a few weeks ago if a pack could survive with 2 alphas I would have laughed in your face. It seems to be working out well.” She says.

“Maybe we’re special.” He says, she can hear the bitterness in his voice.

“Yeah, I think you are.” She says ignoring it. “You don’t need do anything fancy, or have sex with her. Just be there, talk to her. She’ll open up to you.”

“You have to open up too though. Don’t get something for nothing.” She says nudging him. He takes a big breath in.

“Now that I don’t believe,” he says, Piper smiles turning back to her laptop.

“It’ll work out Simon, whatever happens you’ll face it as a pack. That’s a strength a lot of people will never have.” He looks over at her the laptop lighting up her face as she works. He presses his lips together looking back at the piece of paper he’s been fiddling with.

At least when they have a cure he won’t need to worry about this anymore. Life can go back to normal. There's a photo of you pinned in the corner of the paper. It makes him smile.

"Need a hand?" He asks pushing the paper away.

"Always." She chuckles.

Chapter 6 - next bonus

Dividers by plum98

[rizzoreads88]

✨Azriels shadows and Gwyn in his BC✨

***A few things first… There are some people who believe Gwyns purpose in the BC was to foreshadow her and Azriel being mates. I personally feel her entire purpose in the BC was to further showcase her having some sort of siren/light singer powers. This post will focus on how Azriels shadows react to Gwyn further suggesting this thinking. If you want to read more into why I don’t believe the bonus chapter proves they are mates you can do so here. I would also like to clarify I do not think Gwyn is evil. I also don’t think she is purposely luring Azriel. I think she has these powers and may not even know it.**

So starting right off in the Acosf Bonus chapter we see Azriel goes to the training ring and sees Gwyn there. It’s pointed out His shadows didn’t warn him..

This is curious to me because his shadows always know what’s going on they are always a part of him and aware of who’s doing what. But they didn’t tell him someone was already there?

Next we see his shadows hang out behind his wings in her presence here..

The last time we see Azriels shadows tucked behind his wings is when he is around Koschei in Acosf-

Then his shadows only come out from behind his wings when Gwyn and Azriel start talking..

Notice how they reacted to “some silent singing” and then they twirl back to him and hang out at his shoulders..

Here we see his shadows are still hanging out just at his shoulders and then when something restless in him settles his shadows calm down. All of a sudden he talks about needed to sleep even though we know he’s had trouble sleeping for months…

Now Gwynr!els will use this as proof that gwyn is his endgame because she settles something in him. Yet why was it only this moment? When he’s one on one w her and they had a actual conversation just them? If it’s truly Gwyn who settles him why if he not “settled and calm” over all whenever he’s around her? And did she really truly settle him? Because 3 days later we see he’s back to being upset over Elain…

Now Gwyn is physically present here as well when Azriel is upset 3 days later… so if she truly settles and calms him why isn’t he feeling any of this around her now?🤔

Now as the bonus chapter scene between them finishes with him walking away and his shadows singing in response to faint singing..

It’s curious that he was around Gwyn for how long? And never once did his shadows sing to her. But when she starts actually singing(presumably since there was no one else around) his shadows start to sing in response. Again he is not even physically w her when this happens.

His shadows acting very peculiar here and no where else when he’s around her really stands out to me and further reinforces my thinking that her purpose in the BC was to further hint at her powers.

[noa-nightingale]

Finally had the time and energy to write a list about ep 55 of Pod Watcher (055: We Talk About The Past Year), so here are some things mentioned in that video about the WatcherTV announcement.

Steven said deciding to paywall most of their new content was one of the worst decisions they ever made.

Ryan said they hoped it would make the company more sustainable and they would be able to support their staff members, and that was the primary reason for the decision. He said after realizing what a mistake they had made, they tried to find a better solution that was "more inclusive of all the folks that have helped get us to this point" (i.e. their audience/fans).

Shane acknowledged that people don't react this passionately to things they don't care about.

Shane said some comments went over the line.

Steven said their viewers have to be at the heart of their content.

The shows they make on Watcher are a lot cheaper than the shows they made on Buzzfeed. Buzzfeed Unsolved had more people on staff than their entire company currently has.

Ryan said there was a lot of shame around having made a mistake and having hurt people. He talked about questioning his self-image. He said it took time to grapple with it and that's one of the reasons it has taken so long for them to talk about everything.

They are still figuring out how to make their company and the things they do sustainable.

They took a look at their shows to figure out what is the heart and core of them and what is not necessary (and where costs could be reduced).

Making Travel Season was cheaper than Puppet History and Ghost Files. (And Shane mentioned he saw people weaponizing Steven's ~gold eating~ - I want to mention this specifically because I am still angry about those comments.)

They dropped the "TV caliber content". Steven said this thing that was meant as a positive thing in the beginning became how to reach an imaginary bar that did not actually matter. He says the new bar is how to connect to and inspire their viewers, to be curious and do things they love and care about.

Ryan talked about the ego involved in wanting to push things further and making "TV caliber content" and said that the aftermath of the streamer announcement was an opportunity to refocus on what is actually important.

Steven said he asked around the company what their employees think about Watcher and the word that came up a lot was curiosity - they all care about curiosity and exploration.

Ryan said that sometimes you get misguided and need a smack on the head to get back on track - he said that the reaction to the streamer announcement was the biggest smack on the head he'd ever gotten and that he is grateful for it.

Steven apologized (again) for saying that anyone can afford $6 and that is was insensitive of him. Shane clarified that it was a thing they all released and that there was a lot of scapegoating on Steven.

They did not want to take the Goodbye Youtube down until they had the conversation and without unpacking everything. They want to take it down because it has info in it that is not true anymore. It's not about running away from it.

Steven thanked people for giving constructive criticism.

They talked about the future (very exciting!) and that they looked at what people want to see (which fortunately is also what they themselves want to make).

There will be more Ghost Files and more Mystery Files in 2025.

The channel will lean more into the paranormal, the mystery, the spooky.

Puppet History is coming back!

The food content will be moved to a new home (a new youtube channel). It will still be under Watcher's umbrella.

There will be bonus content on the streamer, including experimental things, new things, exlusive stuff (and Evidence Room lol). The videos will be there one month early and ad-free.

Watcher's discord got migrated over from patreon - if you have access to the streamer, you also have access to the discord.

Kudos to Matty for occasionally interjecting and asking important questions and guiding the conversation.

I tried to keep this short but there was a lot. I still highly recommend watching the entire video. It is not only very introspective but also a fascinating look into the Behind the Scenes at Watcher.

I watched the entire podcast episode again and while I love listening to Steven, Ryan and Shane, it was a bit emotionally draining. Would appreciate a few reblogs. :)

Thanks for reading! <3

[vonlycaonwife]

hiiii…any chance you could write a gn!reader x wise fic where they are both pinning over each other? Take your time and don’t rush, make sure to drink plenty of water! Thank you 🙏

Thank you for the reminder! I honestly only drink coffee when I write lmao. But I hope you enjoy this fic! I had some fun writing this, even if the idea might’ve gotten away from me ehe…

Note: Some small implication of mc!Belle

Warnings: none

“Seriously, when are you gonna just talk to them bro?” Belle asked out loud, not bothering to keep her voice down after watching the person, who Wise was obviously crushing on for months at this point, leave the siblings’ store.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He responded, giving her a look before turning back to restocking the shelves.

“Oh please!” The bluenette almost screams, scaring the bangboo at the counter. “Don’t think you can fool me with your ‘oh I have to check the back real quick’ trick! You do it every time they’re here!”

“You’re talking nonsense.” He sighed, pointedly keeping his focus on his ‘task’.

“It’s not! Fairy, back me up!”

[Master is correct, I have noticed the pattern as well.] The AI’s voice resounds from the back. [I have also noticed the other behavioral pattern of Wise staring at the object of his affections when you both go outside and run across them.]

“What? I do not stare.” The male quickly turned his head to glare towards the backroom, though he knew the AI barely cared nor acknowledged him. Taking in another sigh, he just returned to placing the tapes in the box onto the empty shelves. “I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on this.”

“Because I want to see my brother happy?” Belle said, like it was the most obvious thing. She only got a head shake from the elder sibling, which made her huff in annoyance.

—

A few days later the bluenette had decided it was time to come up with a plan, one that they even secretly went over the probability of it working with Fairy. Even though said AI had told her it wasn’t going to work, Belle decided to go forth with her weeks-long plan anyway. Said plan being to become friends with the ‘dreamy customer’ as she liked to tease her brother about since she’s caught him daydreaming many times.

“Hey!” She greeted as the person entered the store, receiving a smile back. “Perfect timing! I already got the movie set up in my room so just head up there while I’m getting snacks.”

“Alright, thanks for inviting me.” They responded, though as they headed towards the stairs they looked back unsure. “I could help you know.”

“Nah, I got it!”

“Okay…” They quickly climbed up to the second floor, looking over at the two doors that greeted them. Luckily they had already been invited into her room multiple times before ever since the bluenette decided to open up a friendship with them. They were a bit shocked at first, but as the bluenette was insistent on hanging out with them, they slowly warmed up to the bubbly girl. 

And while it wasn’t their main reason, it was a nice bonus that the friendship caused them to run into her elder brother. Who they had formed a small crush on ever since they first came across the store. Though the good movies they had was their main reason for returning, having the opportunity to talk with him did not help with their crush festering. At least before they began to see less and less of him whenever they visited.

As they entered the girl's room, they gave the decor a once over. There wasn't any difference really, just some extra little trinkets they swear they haven't seen the last time they were here. But they didn't think about it too much before settling down on the couch, getting as comfortable as they could. They patiently waited for Belle to appear, occasionally looking over their socials. But soon a voice spoke up.

“I got all the snacks Belle, don't know why you asked me to head out to-” Wise began to speak, before freezing once he met eyes with them. In his arms were various bags of junk food snacks and bottles of different drinks. They froze as well, not expecting the male to enter the room.

The two stared at each other for a few moments before they heard Belle yell out from down below. “Oh sorry! I forgot I had something with Nicole! Watch it without me!”

Before either could say or do anything, they heard a door slam shut. The two of them just stayed there staring at each other, not knowing what to do. After a few moments, the person decided to stand up from the couch.

“I-I can leave.” They quickly said, snapping the male out of his stupor. He only sighed, grumbling within his own head as he began to realize what his sister had just done.

“No, it's fine. Would be rude of me to kick you out now.” He replied, stepping over towards the coffee table to get the food and beverages out of his arms. He could see them hesitate a tad, giving them a reassuring smile. “We'll both just have to reprimand her for triple booking.”

They chuckled in response, relaxing a bit as they sat back down on the couch. Though this time they kept to themselves to the side so as to create enough space. “Yeah. Oh, do you know what movie she picked? She never told me.”

“It's supposed to be this new indie documentary movie that we just bought.” He explained, trying his best to remember what he read from the blurb. “We usually watch the new stock before putting them on the shelf.”

“I see.”

The two stayed quiet for a bit, an awkward silence permeating through the air. Neither had any clue on how to truly talk to the other since they rarely had any opportunity to talk (thanks to Wise running away any chance he got, which he’s now regretting). Soon the male decided to start the movie.

As the film played the two watched on with very little commentary, not wanting to create another awkward silence. But occasionally Wise could hear the other mutter a small joke under their breath, causing him to smile a bit. Soon he began to respond with his own quips or opinions on the movie protagonists’ actions and attitudes, leading the two to become more casual with each other. But soon even that died down as the both could feel the tension start to rise within the film, making the two of them on edge as the protagonists argued over their situation.

“Y-You sure this is supposed to be a documentary?” They asked, their hands clutching onto their clothes a bit as the film began to show signs of something brewing behind the scenes. As more and more arguments began to sprung up within the film’s group, their nerves began to rise. In some form of unconscious comfort, they shuffled a bit closer to Wise in hope of their nerves easing. They don’t notice his own tenseness, nor the flinch he does once he realizes how much closer they were now. 

“Th-That’s what I remembered.” He stuttered, racking his brain over any other explanation for what kind of movie he was watching. It was obvious he was watching some kind of suspense, but everything he remembered in the blurb. But a sudden hand grabbing made him jump in fright, causing him to look over to see the other’s scared expression.

“S-Sorry! I-I just...” They explained, their words slurring with how fast they were talking. Their hands shook as they tried to will their grip to loosen from the male’s jacket.

Wise took in a breath, calming his nerves before giving a small smile. “It’s okay.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, the lack of noise only heightened by the movie’s lack of sound as well. Before a sudden scream resounded from the film, scaring both young adults into moving closer and wrapping their arms around each other. They could feel the other shake, trying their best to silently comfort the other.

“W-We should change the movie...”

“Y-Yeah…”

—

“Guys, I’m back!” Belle called out, expecting to hear the two to start cussing her out for her stunt of leaving them alone to watch a horror movie. But she only raised an eyebrow at the lack of response, slowly walking towards her room to see what the two were doing. “That’s weird.”

As she quietly opened her bedroom door, she gasped as she saw the sight before her. There right in front of her was her brother practically cuddling his crush as the two huddled together while they watched what looked to be a more family friendly documentary movie. It was loudly playing, quickly explaining why they didn’t hear her. She smirked, seeing that her plan had seemed to work mostly. Quickly taking out her phone to take a picture, though she forgot to account for the shutter sound effect as it spooked the two.

“Belle!” Wise almost screamed, clearing his throat so as to not look even more scared. Though it was clear to everyone it wasn’t working. Instead he just settled to give his classic upset big brother look. “Don’t do that.”

“What? I’m not doing anything~” She responded cheekily, only earning a harder look in response. “Besides you two seem to be having fun.”

“Well if it weren’t for you leaving us with a horror film.” She heard her friend reply, also giving her a hard stare. Though it wasn’t as serious as Wise’s.

“It was a horror film? Oops!” She chuckled nervously, as it was obvious no one believed her words. But as she placed herself onto the couch right next to the two she knew there weren't any hard feelings. “But we can still continue the marathon if you want.”

“I think I’m good for now, I should get home.” They said, slowly getting up. They weren’t able to catch the small frown that formed on the male’s face, but Belle was. They gave the siblings a small smile, grabbing a bag of candy. “But I’m taking these as revenge for that stunt.”

“What?! Hey, those are my favorites!” They didn’t bother to respond to the woman’s words as they casually walked out of the room. 

Though just as they reached the front door, a ping from their phone alerted them to a text. Checking it, they could see it was a text from the same woman’s room they just left. It was an image, the exact picture she took of them and Wise. They flushed as they began to realize just how it looked like they were cuddling, though they wanted to deny it since they were only trying to comfort the other from each other’s paranoia. But they couldn’t lie how cute it looked, scolding themselves in the head as they saved the picture.

Meanwhile Belle only smirked as the light scolding from Wise went in one ear and out the other. She could see that her friend had seen her message, but didn’t reply. Just as she was about to open her mouth, the voice of Fairy could be heard.

[Master, while I still believe the theory isn’t as plausible as you suggested…] The AI spoke, a small whirring hummed from below the sibling’s room. [By my calculations, the suspension bridge theory does seem to have some small merit.]

“No no no! You are not getting a part in this!” Wise huffed, crossing his arms in frustration.

[But it is very clear that even after you both changed the movie genre, your heartbeats were still high.] Fairy countered. [The same average that is typically seen when individuals are near their subject of affection.]

“You want me to send the picture to you?” She asked quickly, interrupting the male from his oncoming denial. She could see the gears turning in his head, resulting in him only sighing and turning away with an obvious blush on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up.”

[jyrinestories08]

I FINALLY WATCHED SONIC MOVIE 3 AND OH MY GOD IT’S SOOO GOOOOOODDD!!!!!

THE STORYTELLING, THE CHARACTERS, THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTS, AND THE 3RD ACT!!!! AMAZING!! IT’S SO GOOD, I HAVE A BLAST OF WATCHING THIS MOVIE AGAIN BECAUSE OF EVERYTHING!

Spoilers of my thoughts⬇️⬇️⬇️

Hero story:

- Sonic had such a great character development in this movie when you put the 1st and 2nd movie together, and it shows on how changed and how he learns something from himself. That scene when he argues with Knuckles about how he wants to get the Master Emerald to fight Shadow is great. And i love how in that same scene, Knuckles knows that violence is not the answer, sonic shouldn’t have that much rage on him, even though after what Shadow did to Tom (i’ll talk about that later). This movie also shows you that Knuckles’ characteristics has gotten some development, when you compare how he acts in the 2nd movie and the spin-off show. And i still love that even though Tails and Knuckles agree what sonic is doing, he’s still family.

Villain story:

- I can finally talk about Shadow. Oh boy, he’s so good in this movie. He’s so well written in this movie. From his backstory and his villainy. His backstory with Maria are great, i love seeing Maria rollerskating around the G.U.N, including that she’s not even afraid of Shadow; instead she sees him as a little guy that she wants to be friends. AND THE MONTAGE WITH THEM IN THE BASE AJAKDJEJSMNDJSKSJDJDKSJDJSKDJ💕💞💓💗💖💘💝THEY’RE SO CUTE. This movie made me feel bad for both them😭. I never get to mention Eggman, Gerald, and stone in this movie. It’s interesting to see Gerald in this movie, it’s the first we get to see him having more interactions with Shadow and Eggman than in the Games; and i love seeing Jim Carrey playing both Gerald and Eggman at the same time, seeing the duality of both characters and how he acts as them. And man…poor Stone, he deserves better. This man has to watch his own boss anouncing a heartfelt message to him as a goodbye, and that’s just for so sad for Stone losing Eggman for the 3rd time again😭. And never get to mention his interaction with Tails and shadow in the movie because i really like that scene it’s really cute, i love seeing Tails talking about him and Eggman are friends, and Stone’s interaction with Shadow by BABYSITTING HIM DHJSJSHDHEJDNNDHDNDNDJDJD SO CUTE!!!!!!

(Other)Human characters[Tom and Maddie, G.U.N]:

- I really do like how get to see Tom and Maddie being part of Team Sonic’s mission compared to the 2nd movie. Their scene together at the house so cute, the little puppet that tom’s puppet is cute as hell, bonus the donut sweater. I still think their scenes in the G.U.N base is okay cause i really don’t mind it .And that scene where Tom is disguising himself as Commander Walters to get the key has to be a great scene for a character like him and how he cares about what Sonic is trying to do; 10/10 scene. And i like Walters’ role in this movie. I love he’s just a really nice G.U.N employee during the backstory scenes, and i love how he’s trying to be a good person by stopping a G.U.N soldier to shoot (except it explodes some gas’ that led to Maria’s); he seems like the movie equivalent of Abraham Towers, except he’s less intimidating than Towers. I wish we get more character of Agent Rockwell, i really do think she has some potential in the movies. Her last appearance is when Tom Disguises himself as Walters, then she just leaves and never to be seen again. I wish he had more because i might expect her as Agent Topaz from sonic X (except she’s a lot meaner than Topaz).

Stuff’s that made me cry:

- hooo…i am so ready to say some of list of stuff’s that made cry in this movie. The backstory with Maria and Shadow is so heartwarming and cute, i love seeing them being literal kids playing kids stuff and cause a ruckus, and i just wanted to inhale and exhale being how cute and sad it is at the same time. And yes, i did cry when Tom was sent to the hospital, because before that scene, Shadow almost killed Tom without knowinb it’s actually him. Sonic comes into the scene and i knew it Sonic will get so much rage on Shadow, and Shadow sees Sonic and Tom to himself and Maria; like i knew it, i knew that scene will come and I JUST WANT TO TAKE BREAK. And again, Eggman’s announcement to Stone is so sad because Eggman finally felt betrayed after what Gerald is doing. And now he’s making a message for stone and then referencing his line from the 1st movie🙁.

Post credit scene:

- I’m excited to say this. Let’s talk about the post credit scene from the very end. We already know, shadow is alive, of course he is still alive, we saw it in the games. But man…the first post credit scene. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH METAL SONIC IS HERE I CAN’T BELIEVE IT BUT I KNEW IT HE’S GONNA BE IN THE MOVIE. AND MY BEST GIRL AMY AHHHHHHH SHE FINALLY GETS WHAT SHE DESERVES AHHHHHHHH FINALLY FINALLY YESSSSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHHH AND HER IN A HOODIE ASWELL, AND HER PINK LIGHT AND HAMMER, AND HER BEATING EVERY SINGLE METAL SONIC’S JUST TO SAVE SONIC’S LIFE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Tier Rank: S TIER

Scale Rank: 10/10

[badendinggamer]

Alright I did echo, time for his brother, Vibrato (name suggested by one of my friends)

TW: implied self harm

Echo's character sheet for context

Anyways Vibrato! Or Vi for short if you want. The oldest and the not dead one (ok ill stop) he was kinda always chill and a loner but it only got worse after echo died which lead him further to the path of necromancer aka Fucking with the dead and see what happens! He actually does get to socialize with the other sprunki kids tho having a dad like black/Mr.Hat kinda gives you a bad red tbh. (Especially when he basically inherited all the centipede body unlike his brother who got most of jevin's looks)

He carried around a doll made of his brother for ....reasons

He speaks to this doll like it's him (really helping the reputation there Vi)

This was his only what of talking to echo and so one day something pushed him to attempt to revive his brother using this doll. Unfortunately his brother had different plans ....idk how to describe so I'm just gonna role play a little scene here

Vibrato: Oh my dear brother your back! Your really bac-

Echo: yeah so uhh anyways, do you remember that one time where father killed all those people and spread darkness across the island or something?

Vibrato: . . . Yes? . . . . Echo are you high-

Echo: (with a dmug mischievous look) wanna see me recreate it?

Horror mode 2.0: electric boogaloo was born Yippe

Anyways this of course created some guilt as all he wanted was echo back and instead he got bunch of people dying. This drove him a bit as he decided to ...."blind" himself as a self punishment, he still lives however.

Right now Echo in horror mode 2.0: electric boogaloo, is basically a doll who looks exactly like his alive self, however if you pulled on his limbs hard enough doll fluff would come out...... I forgot to draw that so just imagine Vi accidently pulling on his bro's arm too hard and it comes off, that's basically that.

Also I should mention no his horn isn't broken cause of horror mode it was like that before hand he just covers it with his hat

Anyways finally got the sprites

Echo:

Vibrato:

Bonuses:

Echo w/o glasses and vibrato w/o his bandages

Also the doll I guess???

Bonus kinda but I do wanna shout out to @soundleer for THIS amazing art of Echo i really loved it (also I like there art so I definitely reccoment them lol)

Now if you'll excuse me I need to figure out how to make music so I can see how they would sound like together.

[cyanide-latte]

Hihi!!! Tis the season to ask holiday themed asks!! Assuming the world of TWST celebrates winter holidays, do your OCs celebrate any holidays? If so, what are some things they like to do?

Thank you for including me in this idea, fam!

Admittedly this took a bit of consideration and it's still somewhat haphazard, so I apologize for that, please bear with!

Copper Benoit- While we touched on this very briefly in DMs, I don't mind expanding on it here! Copper doesn't recall celebrating winter holidays in the orphanage prior to Mr. Stone kidnapping him at age 6 or 7; he's sure the caretakers at the orphanage probably did do something for the kids, but it's been so long ago and his trauma so severe he doesn't really remember much about his time at the orphanage, let alone if they celebrated much of anything. And during the slightly-over-a-decade he's kept by Mr. Stone, nothing was celebrated, not really. So Copper's first exposure to winter holiday celebrations really begins when he starts his student career at Night Raven College! He wants to learn and respect as many celebrations of all sorts that he can (and as appropriately as possible,) so he's just happy to be a part of things and learn what these celebrations are and the significance they hold! Difficult to say what exactly that will lead to as he grows older, but he's got time to figure that out!

Wei Renqiao- Ren's family celebrates the Lunar New Year very faithfully, and when he comes to NRC, he makes certain to continue observing those traditions and celebrates in small ways before going back home to Bàoyìng for winter break. He especially loves when Ortho takes a more vested, hands-on interest in learning more about their celebrations, and goes out of his way to include him and anyone else who's curious in his festivities, even if they're much quieter in Ignihyde Dorm than they are back home!

Chrysanthos Shroud- Ahhh, here's where we get to my headcanon that the Shrouds observe a TWST version of Saturnalia; you'll have to forgive me, it's been years since I practiced observing it in high school and I'm still re-learning a lot of what I forgot, but that celebration and feast holds a special place in my heart. Even with working on re-educating myself, I do headcanon the Shrouds observe it, and it wasn't much more than a passing acknowledgement of notations on a calendar until Ilias married Kallisto. Kallisto insists on the Saturnalia season being warm and good-spirited and makes it a point to bring that together for her husband and her in-laws, so of course Chrys grew up with a very positive winter holiday celebration. His aunt and uncle and of course Ortho will also happily observe with him, though Idia has to be coaxed. Chrys loves the energy of Saturnalia and the vibes, and he brings it with him; eventually when he and Wei Xinyi start dating, the two decide to learn each other's celebrations and holiday observations, and eventually celebrate both when they get married!

The Anatoles- I do think they celebrate some sort of Yuletide holiday. The siblings are brought home during the holiday break and spend some time doing a lot of winter activities and holiday shopping and dining out, both with their great-grandmother, and with their stepfather's old jazz buddies. Their staff is offered the holiday off with double pay, but are also invited to meals at the home with them. Marianne especially wants people to eat the desserts she works hard to make, Bertrand will happily play holiday music on the piano, and Toussaint is generally pretty sleepy and calm compared to his usual energy (though still jovial as ever.) The siblings will often do their best to drag Rollo into their celebrations, despite his protests.

And last but most certainly not least, bonus surprise

The Pondicliffs- Felix and Aurelian always come home from Royal Sword Academy for Yuletide during the winter break. It's a little crowded with their sizeable family with so many dalmatian beastfolk kids, but they're pretty happy. The family tends to stay indoors most days for the break, with Felix and Aurelian often building snowmen, making snow forts and having snowball fights, or sledding downhill with their siblings, while the parents do a lot of cooking for several days. They all help with decorating their house, and spend a lot of time playing board games in the evening, having festive treats, watching holiday films, and then over the course of three days, they exchange gifts with one another! Felix loves the holidays, Aurelian's at that grumpy teen stage of hating the holidays just 'cause.

Thanks again for sending this ask! Also, would love to see more peeps and mutuals share their thoughts for their OCs and winter holidays too!

Taglist: @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl @winterweary

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine

@natsukishinomiyaswife @the-trinket-witch (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

[nocaptainonthisship]

Hi hi hi! Hope you're ready to get more than you bargained for @3rdbogwitch2theleft!

Truthfully, I posted this with zero intent of taking it further, but since you asked: there's three ways this could go. (There's infinite ways this could go, but these are mine)

Option 1

This aligns pretty closely with the second scenario you offered: Celeborn has returned and he and Galadriel have settled back into married life. They're founding a kingdom together, and though it's hard work, they are blissfully happy. Now, if only her ex-situationship The Dark Lord would just stop knowing on the door of her mind every time she and her husband try to have sex, it would all be perfect.

Option 2

A season one missing moments fic - in which Halbrand is more charming than he has any right to be, Galadriel doesn't want to let herself be distracted from her mission of revenge, and every time they get too close, she hears her dead husband's voice in her mind. Does she try to stay away from Halbrand and keep that voice silent? Does she get closer more often so she can hear Celeborn again? Does she feel guilty about using Halbrand thus or about betraying her husband?

And years later, when Celeborn has returned, does he ask her if she ever heard him calling for her?

Option 3

Dark and terrible as the dawn. Treacherous as the sea. Stronger than the foundations of the earth. Galadriel takes the ring from Frodo, and Middle Earth is changed forever. Celeborn - used to being a trophy husband - mostly takes it in stride. Sauron - used to being chained by those more powerful - makes his peace with this turn of events. Over time, Galadriel’s two husbands form a friendship that not even her love or despair could sunder. Lothlorien slice of life where the boys drink tea, gossip, and help Galadriel wash the blood from her hair.

Bonus Round!

Ok, I am fascinated by the idea of possession, but I'm not sure what I'd do with it. Sauron post rotk attaches the remnants of his soul to Galadriel, but she doesn't realize he's lurking in her mind until she's already unwittingly carried his soul back to Valinor? Galadriel uses Nenya to haunt Sauron's every waking thought until he isn't sure where he ends and she begins? Halbrand was just Some Guy, and Sauron was actually pulling a Jekyll and Hyde with poor Celeborn this whole time? I don't know much to think about.

Galadriel/Celeborn/Sauron fic titled "you, me, and my demon makes three"

[habizuh-studios]

How You Make Me Sway

Summary: I was bored out of my mind, and there was nothing to do in the church. Unless you count for the radio in the corner. I turned it on, not expecting a slow song to play. Of course, when Johnny extended a hand out towards me, I didn’t think he’d say, “Wanna dance, Pony?”

OR: In which the boys are bored at the church and Ponyboy decides to dance with Johnny. :) AO3 LINK (there's a part 2 bc of the 4096 limit for my tumblr folks, check notes or my blog)

I was bored out of my mind. Maybe running away wasn’t the best idea after all. Johnny and I had run to the church about two days ago. Johnny had gone for supplies, and all was well, but neither of us were in the mood to read Gone with the Wind and there was really nothing that we wanted to do. Unless you account for the radio in the corner. There was really nothing else to do- everything was so still, and though I usually just zone out and let my imagination take me anywhere, I wanted to spend some more time with Johnny. I think he was bored out of his mind too. The black-haired boy was dangling with only his legs holding him up from one of the dusty pews, arms on the floor. I eyed the radio in the corner, suddenly getting up. Johnny looked at me questioningly, and I blushed a little, flustered. I think I stuttered out something about wanting to turn on the radio, and Johnny got up from his awkward position and followed me there. “What song are you gonna play?” He asked, curious. An idea had been in my mind for the past few minutes, and I wanted to test it out. Answering Johnny’s question, albeit flusteredly, I mumbled, “I dunno.” I’m pretty sure I said it quickly, so I have no idea how Johnny heard it. “That’s fine, just turn it on and we’ll see what song plays,” Johnny said. He was cool like that. I grinned up at him crookedly like Two-Bit, “Once I figure out how to turn on this radio.” It was a different brand than the one we had at our house- it was probably newer, with a bunch of fancy knobs and switches. It wasn’t too hard to turn on, though, and eventually, it landed on a slow song. The kind of song that I’ve seen people dance to in movies, all elegant and fancy. You see, I know how to dance- before my parents died, they would dance together in the living room, laughing and smiling at each other. I vividly remember Sodapop bursting into the room and wanting to be a part of the action back then. My mom laughed, smiled at my dad, and took his hand, teaching him. At the time, they were dancing to a slow song- the type of songs where one of the people has to put one hand on the waist and where they spin together slowly. My parents were good dancers, and I think Sodapop was, too. Eventually, Darry and I went to the living room. We used to be a lot more competitive, so when we saw Sodapop dancing with Mom, Darry and I had said we wanted to learn, too. And so we had. I’ll probably never admit it to anyone else, but I really liked it. Maybe I enjoyed the song, or the steps, or maybe it was nostalgic because that was a really nice memory with my parents. Sometimes, when I’m zoned out, I’m imagining that scene or something similar to it. So when Johnny extended a hand out towards me, I didn’t think he’d say, “Wanna dance, Pony?” I don’t know why I stared at his hand like it gave me the world, but I took it anyway, and replied, “Do you know how?” “Not really,” Johnny awkwardly smiled. “But I think you’ve mentioned knowing how once or twice.” Gosh, I had? How many things have I mentioned to Johnny and forgot about? “Well, you’re right about that.” None of us said a word, but I guided Johnny’s hand to my waist and put my arm on top of his. My other hand grasped his other hand, and I held it out a little away from our faces- I’m pretty sure you have to do it farther, but I really didn’t feel like it. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Johnny broke in, slightly grinning, “This comfortable, Pony?” I nodded my head, smiling back. I then realized I would have to explain the footwork, and waited for a beat in the song, before explaining- I basically forgot how to do it, but I can remember the people in the movies doing something similar, so I based any gaps in my memory with their movements. “You basically just step out and together in any direction, and I’ll follow,” I said. “You have to do it constantly- unless you wanna stop or something, then we can.”

[scentofpines]

i got an email today from my uni that was sent to all students from the faculty i'm in and it's a job offer for a project from the uni's school museum where they catalogue and analyze old school note/exercise books from 1820-1950s and...idk i should probably apply right??? They're not even asking for a CV (mine would be empty), how often do you get that lmao. And it's only 6 hours a week, starting this October and the project is supposed to last 3 months and there is a possibilty of the museum hiring you for longer. And i mean, if it sucks i guess i can push through the 3 months? should i do it ahhhh my panic brain is screaming but it's not often that there is a job offer that is that nice