#but then i went to this fair and the art teacher that was there looked at me and went 'look at this future art freshman'

[narutomaki]

I always get self conscious when people talk about the amount of thought the goes/went into their art because there is.

there is no upper processing happening when I'm designing a character or background. my hand starts moving and my brain shuts off. I recognize there was probably a point in my life where this WASN'T the case but. like. it's why my art is like. mostly flat and lifeless. my art is never intended to tell a story because when I intend to I get angry/frustrated to the point of wanting to break shit because it's not going right. and I've tried to tell stories with my art both comics and stand alone pieces and it all feels fake or flat or.

idk.

I've TRIED to start and finish a piece where I've made conscious choices beyond "does this look good/right" and "am I being offensive in ways I'm aware of with anything here" but it just. makes me want to scream.

I learned people told stories with their art and I tried to and I stopped drawing for 5 years despite having. before that point been doing art studies for 8 to 10 hours a day for. 2 years.

I mostly just think it's because I have nothing to. say.

I can't add anymore tags to this post??? homophobia.

any way this post is useless idk I'm just sad because people do this thing so easily and enjoy it when it makes me break down crying. I don't get it. every person I've known regardless of neurodivergency has been able to do this consciously to some degree and enjoy it and meanwhile my stupid ass is asked how/why i chose something and I just. shrug. idk

looked nice?

[saebaragi]

so i had a panic attack plus an existential crisis saturday, then yesterday i cried at the college fair and this morning i'm stressing over my health and the college thing

[artdcnaldson]

patrick hive to the rescue because im thinking, as i often do, about friends to lovers with patrick where you're kind of upset because he and art have gotten around and you're still struggling on the dating scene, maybe you're shy, probably you just have standards, and its really just all starting to bug you because you're worked up!!!!! imagine hanging out with patrick during the summer - the room is sticky with humidity, despite the air conditioning being on full blast. you're hot and irritated and sexually frustrated. patrick being half clothed isn't helping, either - you can see the gleam of sweat on his bare chest - the dusking of hair on his thick thighs as he lounges back with a cigarette. you're going mad, it feels like you could detonate at any second your clit is so on fire - throbbing and achey and everytime you press you sweat slick thighs together it makes it worse.

patrick is looking at his phone - so you take the chane - just a small touch - just for some relief. you're on the bed, there's a plushi blocking his view - it cant hurt just to slide a sneaky hand down the band of your shorts and panties. just to stroke your swollen slit. surely he wont noitce if you just...... rub yourself a little. while you sneak glances at his toned body - just peeks, really. if you're very quiet (you do realize the sticky squelch of your cunt can be heard across the room, right? you dont) you might even be able to cum undetected

GODDDDD FUCK!!!! This was supposed to be a chill, normal, short response. Instead I ignored 2 work calls bc it’s that serious.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (exibitionism/voyeurism, f!masturbation, not fingering but a secret third adjacent thing, extreme levels of horniness)

A/N: Patrick Hive we Linked and Built <3

Patrick thought it was so sweet that you invited him to visit your home for the summer. Apparently you’d sung nothing but his praises to your parents, because even though you were both eighteen, they let him sleep on the floor of your room on a blow up mattress, trusting him that much.

Which was annoying. You weren’t fucking Patrick (not for lack of wanting to), but they could’ve at least given you the benefit of the doubt and assumed that you might have some sort of sexual urges. It made your stupid fucking celibacy that much more embarrassing.

You’re home alone with him and the power’s out— a stupid, heat-induced rolling blackout. The open window only seems to usher in more hot summer air, so you’re both down to as few layers as would be appropriate. You, were down to a thin T-shirt and your panties. Patrick was only in a pair of grey nylon shorts. Sweat was beading down his bare chest, which was so fucking unfair.

Because it was Patrick, whose chest hair and happy trail made your mouth fill with drool any time you were treated to the sight of it. It was summer, and he was frequently shirtless, and you still hadn’t gotten used to the sight. Any sane person would want to lave their tongue along his chest, tasting the sweat and salt of his skin. That was��� so totally normal to think about.

Patrick fucked your neighbor— the cute one who was going to a state school so she could be a kindergarten teacher. You didn’t know, but you were pretty sure. You’d been swimming in the pool during a cul-de-sac cookout, and they’d disappeared after a while. Patrick didn’t say anything that night, probably to protect your delicate sensibilities, but you could just kind of sense it.

God, it was unfair. All of the guys your age had girlfriends, or something. And the single ones were cute, but Patrick always seemed to fuck things up for you, either actively, or because you would always wind up talking about him. And because your parents thought it was totally fine for him to sleep in your room, you were surviving off of weak, rushed orgasms in the shower.

It was supposed to be a fun, sexy summer before you went off to college, and Patrick was totally ruining it. How was it fair that he got to fuck around and get his rocks off while you spent your summer feeling like you were wearing a fucking chastity belt?

And you were so wet it was uncomfortable, sticky between your thighs with absolutely no relief. Patrick was sitting on the fucking Air mattress, propped up by your cute, pink pillows and plushies that he’d stolen, watching a rerun of The Hills on MTV. His hand dangled out the open bedroom window so the smell of smoke wouldn’t get stuck in your innocent little bedroom.

He stretched, and you watched with an open mouth as he blew the cigarette smoke out the window. Pretty fucking lips, his muscles all taut as he turned. He looked back at the TV, and you exhaled a shaky breath. Fuck, you were so turned on you wanted to scream. Your pussy was just drooling into your panties, clit throbbing and aching for attention, your entire body felt empty, desperate to be filled up.

You were practically buried in your stuffed animal collection, which was embarrassing on any other day (Patrick had nearly laughed at the sight, but you’d insisted that you couldn’t just throw all of them away… they were nostalgic), but you’d never been more grateful until that moment.

You were already pretty well covered, thanks to the near life size bear sitting beside you— the perfect safety net. Your pulse was thundering in your chest, making you feel a little dizzy with anxiety or arousal, or a strange new mix of both.

You were burning hot between your thighs— throbbing and soaked all sticky and slick. Your legs twitched instinctively as your fingertips dipped into your core, where a pool of your arousal awaited. A shaky gasp escaped you as you moved your slick fingers up to your neglected clit, and you quickly muffled the noise into your pillow

It was like you’d never really touched yourself before. The level of need and desperation within you was completely unknown until that point. Your eyes rolled back as you began grinding up against your fingers. Your teeth dug into your lip to stay quiet as you played with your clit as discreetly as you could.

Patrick shifted to get more comfortable. Flexing his thighs just slightly, rubbing sweaty palms against the muscles there. He ashed his cigarette with his gaze locked on the TV. “This shit is so boring,” he muttered.

And fuck, his voice. You considered arguing with him, just so he’d get louder, and his voice would get more intense, and you’d be able to fuck yourself to completion to the sound of him speaking.

Your poor, neglected pussy clenched around absolutely nothing, begging to be filled by his dick, his fingers, your fingers, a toy, a hairbrush, fucking anything. Your panties were absolutely sodden— drenched to the point of forming a transparent little spot right above your cunt.

If Patrick had looked over, or, if he had unfocused his eyes just right and peered into the reflection of the TV screen, he would’ve been able to make out the sight of your fingers, moving steadily, desperately against your clit. If he had done that.

Your toes curled just slightly, thighs closing around your hand as you got closer and closer. It was loud— just how much you were moving. You needed— god, you needed so much in that moment. You grabbed a random plushie— a pink rabbit that you probably got with that years’ Easter basket— and held it over your lap. Yeah, that worked. Super casual, perfect way to hide the way your hand was working your clit.

And the pressure. Jesus Christ, the pressure of the warm stuffed animal over your cunt was too nice to resist. You’d have to throw it away after, you knew, but you couldn’t help but grind yourself up against it. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine it was his lap, or his thigh, or something warm and soft and hard for you to rut against.

But you couldn’t close your eyes, because you had to watch Patrick. To make sure he didn’t know what you were doing. An arm slung behind his head, the muscles highlighted by the shiny sheen of sweat there. You whimpered pathetically, muffled into the pillows. He probably heard, he pretended he didn’t. It was that level of feigned ignorance that let you keep going.

He probably knew, you could pretend he didn’t. The razor’s edge between you and a much needed, earth-shattering orgasm hinged on that level of ignorance.

So you pathetically humped against your fingers, and the stuffed rabbit, and chased at the bliss that was so fucking close you could taste it like metal on your tongue. Your thighs squeezed around the rabbit as you came, soaking through and making even more of a mess of your panties, and the rabbit, and your sheets, and your fingers.

You hadn’t realized how loud you were breathing. It was like someone had been holding you underwater and you could only just now hear the world with a shocking sense of clarity. Your body felt hot all over, your legs felt like jelly. You hid the stuffed rabbit beneath a discarded blanket, a problem for later. Legs crossed so you could hide the soaked mess between your legs.

Sure, you could play that off.

“You could’ve asked me to leave,” Patrick said around his cigarette. There was a twist to his lips, a sense of amusement. “Nah, you probably didn’t want me to. Too busy eye fucking me while you defiled that poor little bunny.”

He stood, noticeably hard in his shorts, which you weren’t looking at weren’t looking at weren’t looking at. He grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs apart, all while wearing the smug sort of expression that got you to this position in the first place. Really, it was all his fault. His eyes trailed up your legs, to the glistening mess coating your upper thighs, and the sheer mess of your panties.

“Huh.” His hands moved up your thighs and you exhaled shakily, parting them more to accommodate him, whatever he wanted, whatever he was thinking. You could come a thousand more times just for him, at his every whim. But that was the repression talking, not just because of him.

Your breath caught as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and he peeled them down. His expression held the same sort of concentration that you saw him exhibit on the court. Focused on you, it made your heart pound.

“No wonder you were so loud, huh?” He teased, fingers gliding through your slit. It was embarrassing how wet you were, coating his fingers and palm in your arousal. Each light brush against your clit made your thighs twitch, made a desperate keen escape you. “I could hear it the second you started, by the way. But even before that, I could fucking smell how turned on you were. You could’ve said something, you know. I would’ve taken care of you, made it real nice.”

You moaned softly, eyes wide as you peered up at him. When he removed his hands from your pussy you fucking whined— pouting as he held his fingers up to the light and grinned at the glistening mess left behind. You watched those fingers disappear between plush lips, tongue sweeping out to clean them up. His cock jumped behind the shorts he wore from want.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you insisted, sitting up to rub him through the fabric. “It’s hot, we’re both horny and bored. Just use me. It’ll feel nice.”

He didn’t take much convincing. He’d been rubbing his dick raw on that stupid fucking inflatable mattress every night when you were asleep anyway. How could he not? You were just too adorable.

@poppy-metal your mind amazes me no words no thoughts just this <3 thank youuuuuu for this in my inbox it truly kept me fed

[cottonlemonade]

hii! may i please order a medium pineapple lemonade with extra ice for suna? your work is always so wonderful 🥹🌸

Accidental Confession

word count: 1317 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness, enemies to lovers

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy accidental confession with rival Suna

It all started with a meme. If Suna hadn’t taken that picture of you stretching during class and added a little Simba into your hands, you wouldn’t have photoshopped his face onto a mop.

To be fair, his was harmless. Yours was downright rude and so he fell in love immediately.

He followed you around - not as inconspicuously as he might have hoped - to sneak a photo in the most meme worthy moments, flooding his camera roll with dozens and eventually hundreds of snapshots of you. The whole front of a silly little meme war was a great excuse to mask his steadily growing crush and his friends didn’t think anything of it when Suna set a picture of you mid-sneeze as his lock screen. Granted, he himself was still very much in denial about his feelings as well, so it wasn’t that difficult to pretend that he wasn’t bothered when you talked to an upperclassman and laughed loudly at his, undoubtedly, mediocre joke - although Suna did sweep his pencil case off his desk in an attempt to wave Osamu off when he asked if he was okay.

The class groaned when the teacher announced that for the impending field trip they’d be split into teams of two via random lottery. Half the students got assigned a number while the other half drew a little piece of paper from a box held out to them to match with said number. Quiet cheers and not so quiet disappointment could be heard and the teacher called for silence.

Annoyed that he didn’t even get the minuscule chance to work with him, Suna leaned over to Osamu, “Who do you have?” His friend unfolded his paper and turned it over to read.

“5. That’s…”, he craned his neck to check and count, “Y/n, ya?”

“Switch with me.”, Suna said.

“Why? Who do ya have?”

“Don’t care. Come on.”

Osamu frowned and raised an almost disappointed brow.

“What happened to ya, dude? Ya know, yer bein’ real obvious at this point, right?”

Suna rejected the allegations, waited a moment, then simply exchanged his slip of paper with Osamu’s.

“Ya owe me.”, Osamu noted.

“Yeah yeah.”

Meanwhile, you seemed less thrilled about the match and when the bell rang you threw an annoyed look at Suna who gave you a blank stared wave and went to lunch with your friends. He was a very unfortunate long-term crush you had nursed since the beginning of the year and was as handsome as he was annoying. In spite of this, you had a great time complaining about your matched partners over your bentos while enjoying the mellowing summer sun under the shade of a tree.

When the next morning arrived, Suna made sure to be only two minutes late instead of his usual 15, so he could secure the spot next to you on the long drive to Kobe. The class would be headed to the big art museum in the city and as an assignment got a list of 15 art pieces they had to find, like a scavenger hunt. The first team to get a picture from each of their art works would get to choose where to go for lunch.

With a sigh you dropped in the seat next to him, frowning at his sleepy grin. When you only scoffed and looked away, his heart started pounding and he had no idea why. And this wasn‘t a “oh Suna, you‘re just in love, silly“ kinda pounding. No! This was more similar to that one time when he went out for coffee with his friends and instead of admitting that he wanted his favorite - a sickeningly sweet vanilla latte with extra syrup pumps - he ordered an iced Americano with a triple shot because he thought it sounded cool and for hours it had felt as if a tiny panicked bird was trapped in his chest. In short, he concluded, you were not good for his health.

“Alright.”, you said once you turned to him. You stood in the entrance together with the rest of the class, holding the reference paper in hand listing the artwork, “I’ll take the top 8, you take the bottom 7.”

He bit back a comment about how there was nothing “bottom” about him, but one look from you and he was quiet. That icy stare of disdain made him want to do the cooking and the cleaning and ask how your day had been while he finished up the ironing. “Let’s do this.”, he replied and nearly whimpered when you rolled your eyes at him.

With some quick online searching, the artwork was quickly found and the pictures taken. To keep up appearances he snapped a few pics in between of the NPCs in baroque paintings with increasingly weird facial expressions, fully intending to ask, “This you?” the next time he saw you. He could also airdrop them during class and looked forward to receiving a less than flattering emoji or thumbs down.

But now he had a different objective. Excited at the prospect of finally having an excuse to get your number, he jogged through the museum to your previously agreed upon meeting spot, finding you seated and waiting for him on a bench. You were scribbling on a notepad precariously balanced on your knees. He snuck up behind you, leaned in close to your ear and in a low calm voice went, “Boo.”

The yelp you let out had museum goers turn to you and a man with a lanyard, who was guiding a tour, threw an exasperated sigh in your direction.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”, you pressed out through gritted teeth, a deep red tint on your cheeks.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”, he said simply and in one smooth movement sat down next to you.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”, he then asked casually, waiting for you to say the words.

“Just airdrop them to me.”, you frowned.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Luckily his deflated shoulders were masked by his chronically bad posture and he quickly selected the necessary pictures.

Your phone gave a little buzz and you accepted the stack. “That’s all. You’re excused. Go off and do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can stay and help, you know? I skimmed some of the plackets.”

“What great work ethic.”, you deadpanned but moved your notepad closer to him so he could see.

With your other hand you swiped through the photos, double checking if you had everything.

He was too busy catching a whiff of your shampoo to notice you furrowing your brow.

“Uhm, Suna.”

You turned your phone screen to him and the blood drained from his face.

It was a picture of you - of course, what else could it have been. You were absently staring out the window in the classroom, your hair a little messy from a regular day of fending for your life in high school. Your chin rested on your palm and the sun shone beautifully against your face. He knew the picture well, because just last night when he couldn’t sleep, he edited it. Black and white hearts bordered the snapshot, a slightly blurry filter gave it a dreamlike feel. He gagged when he saw just how mushy he must have felt to add words around your head. Pookie. Baddie. Loml. My Bbg.

“What kind of prank is this?”, you asked, suspicion clinging to every syllable.

Suna thought.

Telling you that this picture was born out of post-nut hormones would only lead to a somewhat compromising confession that he fondled and humped his body pillow thinking of you, having no problem at all imagining your so very tempting love handles spilling between his fingers.

“Would you believe me if I told you my dog took my phone?“

You stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

a/n: thank you so much for continuing to participate in my events! I’m so happy when someone comes back for more 🥺 I hope you enjoyed this one! 🌟

And once again thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for letting me surf her brain through the storm ✨

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Fall in Love in A Night

James Potter x Black!Reader

Say You Won't Let Go James Arthur

Masterlist

Summary: College AU, Muggle AU, James falls in love with the some of the worst parts of you, his best friends sister }

Wc- 3529

Cw: FIRST DRAFT - Not proof read- Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes, cussing, Sirius is kinda a butt and broken hearted, Amos Diggory slander, Pandalily, insecurities}

One party, one night. You promised your friends when you went to the Gryffindor dormitories past curfew, this was a one party, one night, thing. 

You never really drank, you never really partied, you never really “had any fun,” Marlene would mock you. In all fairness, your oldest brother partied enough for the both of you. He would usually blow his top at the idea of you drinking in the lion's den, surrounded by bold and cocky red scarves. But he was at home, spending time with Remus.

The only reason you came, however, was because Lily promised to be by you the whole night. That, and well, your most recent break up. You would do anything to get the absolute arse that was Amos Diggory out of your mind.

You didn't know why you trusted that, because the moment she saw Pandora she was in another universe. Following the blonde around and hanging on her every word. It would be cute if she didn't abandon you five shots in. 

Well, you had other people to entertain you at least. You had spent the better half of your night sobering up enough to listen to Arthur Weasley, a teacher's assistant, explain an admittedly simple muggle board game, going off the two girls that had since abandoned them at the table.

You didn't want to kill his vibe, but Molly Prewett was most definitely flirting with him all night, and he seemed too enraptured with the cardboard on his lap then what could have been there instead. Again, it was none of your business, and you were just happy the hardass was having fun. 

They were so painfully obvious about it. Molly had asked him to reexplain things several times, batting her eyelashes at the fool, and he was none the wiser as he explained it. He was too patient and dumb for your liking. Still, he extended the same courtesy to you, who was equal parts frustrated and amused. 

“So.. it's called Shoots and Ladders?" You mumbled, for the fourth time tonight, leaning your cheek against your palm and looking up at him with ever dwindling hope that he would say something even a little interesting. Anything to not look completely awkward and alone.

You knew he liked his muggle arts, but genuinely, it was not that fascinating. Shoots go down and Ladders go up as they tend to do. How enrapturing.

"Arthur, would you like to dance?" You asked and Arthur smiled at you, toothy and shy, “I uhm.. yeah, yeah, I'd like to dance.” 

“Good. Because Prewett has been staring for over an hour waiting for you to ask her.” You gestured across the room and the older boy looked over. Instantly making eye contact with Molly who looked away quickly. It finally seemed to click for him and he wet his lip, standing up.

“Has she been-”

“All night.”

“Truly?”

“Do you really think that game is that interesting?” You mused and then slowly smirked. “Don't answer that.”

“I am a moron.” He muttered with puffed up cheeks and you threw your head back with a low groan. He hurried after Molly who was now playing coy. Alone, again. At least your friends were having fun.

Your eyes scanned the room and they locked on a familiar figure. Damn it. 

You quickly began to stand and gather your purse, before he walked up to stand beside you. It could be seen as friendly, but he was right between you and any viable exit from your seat. You closed your eyes and gave a small sigh before looking up at him. “Diggory? Excuse me, I was just heading home.” You huffed.

“Woah woah, what's the rush?” He smiled in his usual sickeningly sweet drawl. You rolled your eyes as he leaned his arm on the back of your chair. Even as drunk as you were, the smell of alcohol on his breath turned your stomach in an unpleasant way. “Come on, you've hardly even touched the dance floor. Why not one more dance? I'll leave you be, swear it.”

You stared at his offered hand and for a moment truly thought about it. Were you drunk enough for this? 

"Diggory, I don't think that's-" Before you could finish with her puffed up cheeks, someone cleared their throat. 

"Hey! {Y/N}, right?" A voice cut in. You and Diggory looked over to see no one other than James Potter. Now, you knew him, you knew him from the several heart breaking attempts at trying to win over your dearest friend Lily Evans. Now, you hadn't seen him in quite a while, after Lily finally broke and told him she liked girls. You felt horrible at the look of absolute mortification when he realized she was not, indeed, playing hard to get. She just truly wasn't interested in him. You still saw him on occasion, seeing as his best friend was your brother. Not that you were allowed near your brother’s friends, he had threatened them with violence unknown if they tried anything, even being near you was a crime in his eyes.

Which begs the question, why was he suddenly here? “{Y/N} Black? I hope you remember me.” He cheeked and you couldn't help but smile a bit. Why was he so nervous? You've talked before. Must be the impending Black Wrath. And who could possibly forget the James Potter?

You glanced up and looked between Diggory and him for a moment before you popped your tongue and leaned back. "Yeah, of course I do." You tried to joke, coming out a bit slurred. Wow. You don't realize how strong fire whiskey was. You attempted to stand up again and this time Diggory relented and let you pass. You stood in front of James, and he rubbed the back of his neck. His face was flushed and his words were stammered, he must have been just as drunk. 

"It's nice to meet-" He seemed to pause and he looked startled at his own slip up. “N-not that I don't know you, well, you know me. I hope- I hope you know me. Well, you said you know me, just-”

You held your hand up and he stared at you with wide eyes and flustered cheeks so dark you were sure he would pass out. He seemed both thankful and distressed that you stopped him. You were doing your best to hide a cheeky smile. “Rewind.”

“How far?” He whispered.

“Hm.. as funny as most of that was, let's start back at, ‘of course I do’.” You smirked this time and he seemed to sigh in relief.

“Thank Merlin.” He mumbled and clenched his chest. You laughed.

“That's not my name.” You mused and leaned a bit closer. You had to admit, he was cute. Very cute.

He gave a laugh at this and shook his head. Turning to look behind you before his tense shoulders relaxed. “There we go. He's gone.” James muttered and you turned to look back and saw Amos trailing off to go talk to some other girl. You shrugged it off, you were busy now.

“Are you alright? He seemed a bit..”

“Pushy? Yeah. He's.. he's interesting.” You sighed and straightened your back a bit. You were surprised when your brother nearly hexed him on the spot when he found out you two were seeing each other. Now? You understood completely. 

He was a rake. Flirted with anything with legs and called you delusional when you spoke up about it. Well, you can't exactly hide walking in on him and Rita Skeeter in his dorm room. You don't know what you were more mad about, catching them in bed together or seeing Rita Skeeter naked.

“Yeah, he's.. a piece of work.” He mumbled and you shrugged it off, his eyes drifting back to you and locking.

You stared at him for a moment and slowly tilted your head. He looked like he was building confidence for something. You could see a million different thoughts in his head as his eyes searched yours.

“James-”

“At risk of humiliating myself further,” He muttered quickly, and offered you his hand. You stared at it bewildered before you looked back up at him. “Would you like to dance?”

Your eyes searched his for some ulterior motive. What was the sudden change for? James never paid particular attention to you but the way he was looking at you right now.. 

Now, these parties ended in one of two things, a hookup or a make out session. At least, that's what your brother always told you. Amos didn't show you any different, and coming here, if you said yes to James you had a small nagging feeling that was where this was headed.

“.. Why not, Potter?” You smiled and took his hand. He gave a look, smiling so wide his dimples caved into a fold. Merlin he was really really cute.

~~~

You couldn't lie, you were having the time of your life. Dancing and twirling on the floor with James, you two had a bit of a rhythm, dancing off beat at times as you got so wrapped up in your own ridiculous little worlds. Taking shots and practically joint at the hips all night.

As it went on you got more comfortable. The space between you was shrinking, and his hands slipped from your waist to your hips. You both were practically grinding on each other at points, neither of you daring to step back. It felt warm. Everything was warm. His hands, his breath, his body. You felt like fire, and you wanted so much more.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the break up, maybe it was the fact that you knew it would piss off your brother, but you tugged James out of the party and into the halls, instantly your body was cooled by the night wind slipping in from the windows.

Out in the hall you pulled James down into a kiss. It felt like sparks were set off on your skin. He grabbed your hips and walked you back into a wall, both of you were both far too absorbed in one another to even think. You felt like you were on cloud nine. You had snogged before, of course you had, but his large hands all over you, his lips on yours, bruising the skin, as he commanded the kiss, the way he held you so secure, you about died. 

You broke away slowly, tugging him closer towards a broom closet not too far away from where you stood. He gave a chuckle and shook his head, your drunken mind could only pout. He quickly took your cheeks and kissed you again, stifling any whines before he broke the kiss and smiled sweetly at you. "I'm not taking a girl like you in a broom closet." He smirked, you opened your mouth to protest before he quickly interrupted. "Especially," He dragged out every syllable, "While you're drunk, darling. Let's get you home, yeah?" He asked and you melted into his hands, still pouting but giving in.

James stared at you for a moment before he began to lead you down the steps in front of the campus dorms. 

The wind was sharp and cold on your burning skin, worse than inside. You swayed as you stepped, James didn't hesitate to grab your waist and help you down the stairs. Out of the rare coherent thoughts you had; you were just glad you didn't wear heels. 

A part of you felt bad, for being such a mess and having James Potter, your brother's best friend, a guy you personally hardly knew, taking care of you. But with his hand around your waist so secure you couldn't bring yourself to think twice about it. Your head lulled back and you smiled at him. You knew you must look a sight, sweaty, bug eyed, your eyelids kept sagging and your baby hairs clung to your skin through the sweat. 

You knew you didn't look pleasant at least. Your eyes slowly shut and let out a hum, whining as James pulled away, losing his warmth when he did, only to melt as his jacket covered your shoulders. Eyes slowly opening to look up at his blurry figure.

He gave you a smile when he knew you couldn't see, it was gentle and it was affectionate. You both began to walk. You didn't know where, too wasted to even remember James didn't know where your dorms were. He had his arm around your waist and kept you still, not planning on moving anytime soon as you let him take on your weight, the liquor making it harder to think straight. You staggered and stumbled but he was always there to keep his grip on you. Always catching you. You could almost forget he was wasted too.

You felt humiliated and embarrassed when your mind grew sober. You spent the night trying your absolute hardest to forget your ex and now you were making James pick up the pieces. You dance the night away with your brother's best friend, and he wouldn't even have you. Now, you were forcing him to take you home because they were both far too drunk to drive and she was too stupid to call her brother for a ride. 

The thoughts spun in your head and you felt bile raising in your throat. You gagged and covered your mouth, quickly stumbling out of his arms to the grass of the park you were stumbling past. Kneeling over some bushes and vomiting with some very unpleasant sounds. You slowly fell to your knees and resisted the urge to sob.

It was official, you hated tonight. All of it. You began to throw up more, and you felt his hands comb your hair back to gather it up, one of his other hands rubbing your back. Your stomach churned painfully and you let out the sobs you held back. You always forget how much this part hurts.

Merlin what the fuck was wrong with you? Your brother was right, you shouldn't be dating until you're at least 100. Hopefully James is too drunk to be crossed with you. You slowly looked back at him with your pout and tried to wipe off your face, he produced a packet of napkins from his pocket and began to try and clean your lip. Fucking hell- now he was babying you.

Your wobbling eyes looked up at him and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes held something you hadn't seen before.

He was smiling, clearly still tipsy himself, hiccuping into his palm. You were stunned to see how fond his smile was. "You're bloody breathtaking. Do you know that?." He whispered to you and slowly pulled you into his chest despite your protests of how nasty you must have looked. 

He curled his leg forward and let you lean your full weight on it. He rubbed your back as you laid rag dolled against him. He let you collect yourself. 

It was getting colder, and later, but neither of you seemed to even think about the weather, the people passing by, the street lights turning off. You both just stared at each other before beginning to devolve into a fit of giggles. He grabbed your cheeks and began to pepper your face with kisses. You scrunched up your nose and laughed, quickly returning a few of your own. "How'd I get so lucky?" He mumbled and you were once again floored by his response.

"I-" You began to let your tears fall down your face, trying to dry them quickly, not wanting him to fuss over you anymore then he already was. Once again, this enigma of a man slowly cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a proper kiss. You didn't even think to protest considering the acid in your throat that still lingered. He didn't seem to care.

James Potter was a mystery. People talked about his kindness, his big heart, his utter stupidity. You were sure all of those things were true. Who kisses a drunk girl in the middle of a busy city sidewalk? On the grass as if she was the only person alive?

You were sure he had no shame.

The truth was, he didn't. James was fucked. He fell, and he fell hard. He knew he liked you for a while. You were probably one of the only people who looked at him like that. Like you wanted more of him. Like you wanted to know him. Sirius never noticed his little crush, thank Merlin. James thought it was gone, he focused on obtainable girls, but bloody hell here he was. With this studious and quiet girl, always looked her best, always sassy and calm, smart but never flashed it about. You were the opposite of him, he never thought it would work.

When he first saw you interact with Amos, he knew he wanted you. when he was told he cheated, he never felt so much bubbling anger. Even Sirius noticed, but James managed to play it off as just another quorum of his big heart. Dating his best friend's sister was nothing maintainable. Even as he had to watch you date absolute losers, watch them get what he wanted more than anything. Even then, it was always just a crush. Something he couldn't be too consumed over.

But now? You were the most bare, raw human to him, exposing every part of yourself intentionally or not, and he didn't know his heart could clench so hard. He didn't know a crush could turn to love only took two hours. 

"Come on, pretty girl. Let's get you home." He whispered and stood up, helping you up as well and you got back to walking. 

It was a long and peaceful walk, it was charming, tumbling over each other and laughing most of the way there. You could feel it, something changing in your chest. Looking up at him and noticing his chiseled jaw and handsome features, his dark clear face sent you into a daze, and when you saw his charming hazel eyes you were done for. You could easily forget this was James Potter.

Yeah. For you, it took four years of being love blind, three months to get over it, and, of course two hours to fall in love. You kept staring at each other as he walked you up to the door. Biting your lip as he knocked on the door. You fiddled with your skirt. "Do you think they are up?"

"Mhm.. doubt they've done much sleeping.." You mumbled and slowly looked back up at him. When did you get so shy? You bit his lip at the discovery he never looked away. 

"... please tell me we'll talk again." His voice was low and sweet. But he sounded so desperate. "Even if it's just a hello in the halls."

"I promise." You whispered so quickly you almost interrupted his next declaration. Not even noticing as the door opened.

“I think I'm in love with you.”

You stared up at him with parted lips and wide eyes. James looked like a nervous, flustered mess. Absolutely wrecked. It took one walk. One walk and you ruined him. 

“I-”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Sirius shouted and grabbed you by your arm, yanking you into the apartment. 

James paled and stared at Sirius like a deer in headlights. Sirius looked ready to kill.

“Sirius-”

“You,” He pointed at James’ chest sharply as your brother practically shoved you at Remus who gave you a sympathetic look. “I'm not going to warn you again. Stay the fuck away from my sister, mate.”

With that, he slammed the door in James' face. 

James stared at the door, still trying to gather himself. He hadn't even realized he said that out loud. He was frozen. What were you going to say? Would you call him crazy? Reject him? Make a fool of him? You just.. you never seemed so shy before.

His heart was a mess but the final nail in the coffin. He could hear your voice on the other side of the door. Growing closer. Like you were fighting to get there.

The door suddenly jerked open and your eyes widened as you saw him still standing there.

He was startled, still far too much heat to his head, frying his brains.

“I-I fancy you, Potter!” You declared and you watched in slow motion as his clueless look slowly lit up into. Bright dazzling smile. 

“James, please, for the love of Merlin call me James.” He pleaded and you gave him the same dazzling drunk smile.

“Jamie.” You cooed, James was a goner, and Sirius finally managed to slam the door closed, much to both of your disappointment.

This time, James had the sense to leave. He did not want to be here when Sirius snapped.

He, still tipsy, reached for his pockets as he walked back towards the campus, and he threw his head back with a laugh. 

His bloody keys were in his jacket pocket.

[beemovieerotica]

I'm going a little crazy after being told what happened to the annual science fair at my old middle school

so we used to have to conceptualize our own experiments and take them from start to finish. and the range of experiments went from sometimes silly ("what happens when you water a plant with gatorade?") to "I'm going to sleep deprive all my friends and give them a series of cognitive tests and see what happens" (I was a test subject)

and it was this necessary and pure curiosity of kids looking at something and coming up with a question, and then designing the process by which you test that question. it was the most basic demonstration of the scientific process, and it was sometimes maddening (like science) and sometimes fun! (like science)

so the parents and teachers of this incredibly wealthy Silicon Valley zip code decided with almost unanimous agreement that they were scrapping the science fair. in the place of individual, natural-world driven experiments, the kids will now form teams in which they have to manufacture, brand, and market a signature ice cream flavor.

individual students don't do everything from concept to completion, they're split into teams for "marketing" and "sales" and "recipe testing" - basically compartmentalizing this whole process in the same way that tech companies function.

like I don't know how to talk about this without it sounding like the most heavy-handed, ridiculously made up shit to make a point---it's one school and one anecdote, but that's where the wealthiest parents in the US are at in terms of devaluing any subject (art, literature, science of the natural world) if it does not train their child for the exact tech/sales-centered career path that their parents have

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The art of storytelling Act1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“For you to pass this class you must tell me a story.”

The class chuckled at the teacher’s words but ceased as they saw the serious look on his face.

Araganath clasped his fingers as he looked at his students; the tips of his talons clicking against each other while his spider like eyes passed over the room. He was the only A’thulion at the institute and he used that to give himself an appearance of mystique. Students parted when he walked across the ceilings of halls even though he was well above them, dropped their discussions to hushed whispers as he approached, and most importantly to him lined up in droves to sign up for his class on “The Structure of Galactic Literature”.

The last bit he was rather fond of as not only did it insure his tenure but also hefted him a small bonus for each student that attended.

“What does the story have to be about?”

Araganath shrugged and waved his hands dismissively. “Any subject or theme is open; your main goal is to make me feel something. Do this and I will give you a passing grade for the entire year and you needn’t show up for another class; fail, and you will attend my class and learn the proper means of literary structure.”

This brought the desired bouts and whoops of excitement from his students as they prepared themselves for the challenge. Araganath smiled at this as he was about to deliver the “curve ball”, as they say.

“One last thing,” Araganath spoke as if just remembering, “you must tell me the story now; without any preparation or planning.”

The joyous smiles quickly faded from the students faces as they realized the trap he had laid. Many could no doubt tell a fantastical tale given enough time, but to give one on the spot? Many lacked the sharp wit and clarity of mind to concoct such a tale.

Motioned forward one at a time, the brave few that tried their luck were founding lacking.

“What good is a story if your character never faces any true peril? My offspring could do far better than that twaddle.”

“A sentient asteroid that loves to eat spaceships? Do I look like a child to you? Is this what you think entertains me?”

“Putting aside the fact you just made a justification for genocide, I will have you stay after class so we can have a word with the school director.”

Attempt after attempt was made and yet none could win over their unenthused teacher. His dozen eyes watched each as they spun their yarn and closed shut with disappointment. He never made them stop their story, he was fair enough to let them finish in their last chance to win him over, yet even with that extra rope all they did was hang themselves with one dimensional characters, painfully simplistic plot lines, and dreadful endings that left more answers than questions.

After about an hour only one potential challenger remained and stepped forward; a human transfer student by the name of Brian Craw.

 “This story is called “The wish and the snail”.” They began.

Araganath stifled a scoff but said nothing else as the student continued.

“In the far of desert of my homeworld called Earth some twenty thousand years ago, a man stumbled upon an ancient tomb filled with but a single treasure; a strange lamp of the purest gold resting atop a lone podium.”  

“The man went to the lamp and picked it up and rubbed it to make it shine when a gout of smoke emerged from the end. Falling backwards in surprise the man saw the smoke take form into the shape of a mighty Genie!”

“What is a Genie?” Araganath inquired.

“A being of immense magical power from my people’s folklore capable of granting any wish but at a terrible and often unforeseen cost.”

Araganath nodded for the student to continue now that his confusion had been dissipated.

“”Name any wish and I shall grant it!” the Genie spoke loudly. The man paused and thought about his options. He could wish to be free from this dessert, but he felt he could find his own way out if given another day. He could wish to be the richest man on the planet, but he could not carry his riches out of the dessert alone and if he brought others back there was no guarantee that they would not betray him.”

“Finally after much deliberating the man said “I wish to be immortal; to never feel pain or harm, to never age or feel the ravages of time, and to be free to live my life as I am now.”

“A great tempest swept into the tomb and surrounded the man in a vortex of thrashing winds. “YOUR WISH IS GRANTED” the genie boomed as an unearthly glow consumed the man. When the winds finally died down the man opened his eyes and felt as if he was a god. “You will be immortal till the end of time itself so long as your conditions are met.” “

“”Conditions?” the man asked.” The student said in a thick accent, ”What conditions?””

  “The genie pointed down to the ground in front of the man and now before him was a small snail. “You will remain immortal so long as this snail does not touch you.” The genie’s voice boomed. “It is immune from harm and like you is immortal. It will forever know where you are at any given time and always be seeking to touch you.””

“”That is all?” the man laughed. “I have nothing to fear then.””

“With that said the man climbed out of the tomb and looked out over the dry dessert. He took a moment look back down but could not see the genie anymore, only the snail slowly following after him.”

“This is your story?” Araganath inquired. “I would hardly call this a tale worthy of a free pass.”

“Because we have only finished act 1.” The student countered and

[snapghoul]

Head-canons 3

Growing up + Mr. & Mrs. Seresin and Sophia

Note: I’ve hit a block with mini fics and I need requests to help the brain rot flow because I’ve been staring at a blank doc for a while.

Warning: mention of child loss.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

JAKE

★ Jake was the kid who had to get a matchbox car or tiny plane from the store every time they went.

★ He helped his dad cut the lawn as a kid. By help meaning he sat on his dad’s knee and “drove” the mower.

★ Can draw fairly well, won his second grade class art contest by of drawing the Blue Angels squad. His mother had it framed in her office.

★ Used most of his allowance on Galicia at the arcade in town. Held the highest score for a year.

★ Did the water bottle muffler on his bike.

★ Knows how to sew his own clothes, his mother taught him how after she got tired to mending the tears in his pants.

★ As a baby when he was done napping he would shake the crib bars until someone came to get him.

★ All his favorite matchbox cars are still lined up on a windowsill at his parents house.

★ Had the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

★ Had a favorite chicken, her name was Candy.

★ Had beef with a lot of teachers in school, he wasn’t a quiet kid.

★ Competed in the rodeo with Tyler, he did barrel racing and roping with their mom’s horse Storm Warning. He won a few times.

★ Touched the electric cattle fence because older sis Sophia told him it was off. It wasn’t.

★ Sucked at hangman in school (still does)

TYLER

ᯤ Excellent at math, was in honors and AP all though high school.

ᯤ Flipped his first truck doing donuts in a field, it was fine aside from a few dents.

ᯤ Liked to garden with his mom, he had a ljttle kiddy gardening set. He liked to dig the holes for the seeds and flowers.

ᯤ Had multiple concussions from the rodeo. Only had one 3d grade concussion and it was his last.

ᯤ Almost got struck by lighting when he was ten trying to get a look at the storm.

ᯤ Got stood up on prom night and ended up not going. Jake bailed on his date so Ty wasn’t alone.

ᯤ Released crickets into the school hallway.

ᯤ Climbed out of his crib when he was done with nap time.

ᯤ Spray painted his bike red (it got everywhere)

ᯤ Was the bottom bunk when he shared a room with Jake.

ᯤ Was a stuffed animal kid, his parents have totes of them still.

ᯤ Liked to set his marshmallows on fire.

ᯤ Sophia locked him in the chicken coop more than once.

ᯤ Won the science fair two years in a row, he build a mini version of Dorothy and a tornado.

THE SERESIN FAM

✿ Brisket.

✿ Sophia is four years older than the twins. She is a veterinarian in Austin, she’s been married for two years.

✿ She originally did not like her brothers, she didn’t want anything to do with them when they were infants.

✿ There was supposed to be a another sibling, a girl, before the twins were born. Her name was Dana.

✿ Mrs. Seresin’s name is Rosalie. Her maiden name was Hayes.

✿ Mr. Seresin’s name is Cole.

✿ Mrs. Seresin has a small business, she crochets many different things. She sells a lot at craft fairs.

✿ Mr. Seresin regularly mixed up the twins as babies, hence the color coding.

✿ They have one goat named Guy. Guy will stand on the porch and bleat until he gets his daily apple slice.

✿ All three siblings have a strong and loving relationship with their parents. Both mom and dad support them in everything.

(Please tell me yall get the crickets in the hallway reference)

[olderthannetfic]

Re: the YA convo that's come back like a nasty rash:

As someone who writes kidlit, the problem is pretty simple. At most schools, the curriculum is *meant* to have a fair mix of Books Kids Can Relate To and Books Kids Need To Read To Be Educated Adults.

The trouble is, for many schools, that mix was last updated during the Reagan administration, by boomer teachers who thought The Catcher in the Rye was the height of Relatability. Catcher in the Rye is a great book, and it still might speak to some Kids These Days- but for a lot of the Kids These Days, he's about as relatable as Hamlet. They need historical context and explanations of the slang to get why he feels the way he feels and what he's saying, and at that point, you've got a Book Kids Need To Read To Be Educated Adults.

--

Honestly, the biggest problem when I was in school is that teachers thought—and yes, they said this out loud and explicitly—that tragedy was better and higher art than the reverse.

I'd guess one out of a hundred kids I went to school with ever liked a book with a downer ending better.

We used to play a game where we'd look at the cover art of some Newberry award winner or whatever and try to guess how many beloved pets/mentors/best friends died and what cruel and boring things transpired in the plot.

Gotta say, we were usually spot on.

[bluemirrorangel]

Dps headcanons the poets and their type of academia aesthetic 

This is wayyyy longer than I intended it to be lol anyway I hope you enjoy these, leave a ship or fandom suggestions and I’ll do headcanons for them if you want :) 

Todd:darkest Academia

Loves gothic fiction and horror stories because he likes being nervous knowing that he's supposed to be.

Likes reading outside at night because it’s quiet 

Surprisingly nosey, not in a bad way he’s just really curious about stuff.

Likes dark/muted colours.

His favourite book is a picture of Dorian grey.

Weirdly into cryptids and other mysteries.

Was TERRIFIED of the Bermuda triangle as a kid.

Loves writing poetry but enjoys writing in general.

Semi popular writer on AO3 for classical literature, started because Keating told him to publicise  some of creative writing.

Runs his good reads account like the navy.

Charlie:chaotic academia

Regularly gets uniform carded for everything; shirt unbuttoned and untucked, tie loosened, he never has his blazer on and his jumper is perpetually tied around his waist. 

Has a mason jar type cup on his nightstand that is always full of a mixture of different energy drinks and fizzy drinks/soda’s, Cameron says it looks like paint water.

Banned from reading out loud in English class pre-Keating because he got a little too into the role of Jack in Lord of the Flies .

Point blank refuses to do P.E and is always ‘losing�� his kit.

Shockingly serious about music class, deeply respects the teacher and never misses a lesson.

Post stick notes EVERYWHERE

Writes his notes in highlighter and felt tips

Went through a phase of bringing a flask to school instead of a water bottle because he thought it looked cool.

Spark notes BIGGEST FAN.

A saxophone prodigy despite being unable to read sheet music.

Neil:light academia

Loves Shakespeare and the theatre in general

Good grades in every class but really shines when it comes to the arts

Eats his lunch in the English classroom with the other poets

Forges his fathers signature for school trips so much half his teachers have no idea what his dads handwriting actually looks like.

Hates biology because he’s scared of blood

Always says that Todd is his favourite author/poet.

Really good memory, able to learn lines at shocking speeds. 

Finds it difficult to multitask; has to have instrumental music playing otherwise he gets distracted.

Prefers plays over books.

Collects playbills.

Meeks:classic academia 

Loves typewriters, inherited one from his grandparents and uses it alllll the time.

has a polaroid camera and uses it to take either the best candid's or the  most diabolical mugs there's no in-between.

Owns a shocking amount of sweater vests.

Has a record collection.

Loves those retro 50’s themed diners/drive-ins, drags Pitts and the poets to those all the time.

Really into history

Owns an analogue radio.

Taught himself Latin one summer to impress Pitts, and is now fluent.

His entire wardrobe is vintage themed.

Favourite book is the Outsiders by S.E Hinton.

Knox:romantic academia

Writes love letters and poetry whenever he has a crush on someone, used to keep them under his bed but swiftly changed that hiding place after watching ‘to all the boys I've loved before.’ with his sister, they now live in a shoebox on his trophy/bookshelf.

Loves the romantics big fan of love poetry as a whole.

Has definitely tried to serenade someone before.

 Self taught guitarist.

Has only ever received on card on Valentines Day, it was from Charlie in year nine it’s one of Knox’s most prized possessions.

Loves Romeo and Juliet.

Thinks ‘say anything’ is the height of romance 

Subconsciously wants to be romanced for once instead of the other way round. 

 Has Pinterest boards dedicated to romantic quotes 

His favourite movie is the princess bride.

pitts:’nerdy’ Academia 

really into the roman empire 

Loves renaissance fairs and goes every year.

REALLY into dungeons and dragons.

Loves going to random museum exhibits.

Spent half his childhood hyper fixated on the Titanic, was super excited to watch the movie and completely heartbroken when he realised it was a fictional story and not a documentary.

Brilliant at chess.

Knows random historical facts.

Horrible at remembering faces but never forgets a name.

Loves mythology of all kinds.

Really good at architecture; his middle school used to have a architecture competition where  you had 2 minutes to make a house out of marshmallows and dry spaghetti the most stable one won, Pitts won every year.

Cameron:dark academia 

Keeps his notes/homework in colour coded folders and files

A proper perfectionist and  chronic overachiever.

Writes in pencil or fountain Pen.

the gifted kid who REFUSED to burn out.

Only gets attention at home when he’s doing well at school, so he throws himself into his studies.

Drinks more coffee than water

Can play the piano, was entered in a school concert and his whole family came. He was terrified of embarrassing or disappointing them so he overdid it and played so hard his fingers bled.

Has a copy of every graded test practice or otherwise in his room so he can go over them before his exams.

Hates English with a passion because it’s the one lesson where there are no rules.

Once spent an entire night going over his English notes before a test and was so overtired he fell asleep during the exam and failed it. None of the poets bring it up not even Charlie because that day was the first time he’d seen Cameron cry.

[lovehypegirl]

LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER (2)

SYNOPSIS: BEING MANAGER NAM'S TEENAGE DAUGHTER WARNINGS: NONE NOTES: NONE WC: 1.7K

In his opinion, you were easier to handle as a child since you were very predictable

He knew when you were hungry, when you were tired, when you were sick, when you were thirsty, when you wanted to play

But now you're a teenager, you weren't as vocal and a little more closed off

Until he got used to your new teenage mannerisms, he would have to ask you how you were feeling

Also, he did not put up with your attitude. He was a rather firm father and he had no problem with telling you when your attitude was out of line

"(name)" he said in a firm manner. "I'm not sure if my absence has caused you to think that you could act out of line but that is not what's going on" he looked you in the eye

You looked to the side trying to avoid his firm gaze "'m sorry". Your fifteen-year old self felt like a soldier under his disciplining gaze

"I know you are, so you need to change your behavior from now on, do you understand me?" he placed his hands on your shoulders

"Yes, dad" you nodded "I understand"

"Good"

He had placed you in martial arts from childhood and here you were in your teenage years competing

Whenever you stood in the center fighting against another teen your age he would always be giving you a critical eye and criticisms after your matches

But as always, he praised you. You were his daughter. The daughter of A.R.E.S' 'world class' fighter. His genes went strongly. No wonder you always won first place.

"Your arm could have been higher for your third block"

"Dad, this ain't a battleground...it's a martial arts match" you pointed your first place trophy at him

He ruffled your head messing up your hair "I know, I know. You did good, as always kiddo"

After Minjis kidnapping arc, his first idea was to make sure you never ran into Manager Kim, Jincheol Park, and Hansu Seong

Okay, so that didn't work

Apparently, you attended the same school as Dabin so Jincheol got a hold of you and told you that your father was in the hospital (he also included that he was the one who beat your father up)

Jincheol pulled him into the 'dad's-with-daughters-club' which Nam did not want to be in but really didn't have a choice since you don't exactly oppose Jincheol

You easily got along with Jincheol who was going on and on about how Nam had raised an amazing daughter who was mature and well-behaved and such and such and how he wished how that you were friends with Dabin and Jesus Christ his smile probably stretched over his face and around the world when you told him that you and Dabin had your duo

He went on and on about how much you looked like your father and how Nam should be proud of having a daughter like you

(They did apologize for beating up your father)

And GOD FORBID you date Taehun Seong, Nam would NOT be happy

I'm sure he'd live with it but would not like it. Like at all

"Really? Him?"

You blinked a few times "Were you expecting me to bring Choi San in through the door?"

"With how much you talk about him? Yes"

"Well- okay fair"

He doesn't really understand k-pop but he'll buy you albums whenever you ask, he'll get you everything you need for your photocards, he'll buy you concert tickets and whatnot

Anything to keep you from running your mouth about all the concepts he doesn't understand, granted he's an ex-mercenary

He loves you dearly, but he doesn't care about Wonyoungism. But he'll buy your skincare

Does he know what salicylic acid is and what it does? No, but he trusts you to know what you're buying

And although he loves you dearly, he DESPISES parent-teacher conferences (he's had a few of your female elementary school teachers hit on him before)

When he gifts you things for christmas it's gifts like vinyl, kpop albums, makeup (that you make a list for), new shoes, clothes, ect

But for your birthday, he gifts more precious items, as he sees your birthday to be of highest importance. He's gifted you Cartier, Van Cleef, and would have you

He encourages you to do what you want but there are some jobs he's restricted you from. Like the military. But he did allow you to join the JROTC since he thought it would push you towards ideas of valor and loyalty. He doesn't want you to end up like him, stuck in a mercenary group with killing everyone being the only way out. Doesn't matter if naval aviation is different from the AKL

"C'mon, I wanna be a pilot!" you said as you lifted yourself up and down on the counter in a vertical press-up fashion

"Then fly an airplane" he said nonchalantly

"I don't wanna fly a commercial plane! I wanna fly a fighter jet!" you leaned on the kitchen counter as he cut up the vegetables in precise pieces

"Doesn't matter, it's not happening pet"

"Ughhhh"

Imagine you're someone who enjoys true crime and you're sitting on the couch watching a particular gruesome episode of your favorite show while you're waiting for your dad to come home

You sat on the couch with your knees drawn to your chest as Chicago PD played on the screen. Your heard your father come in through the front door

You heard your fathers footsteps stop behind the couch as the tv screen showed the cops pulling a decapitated body out of the water and cutting to a scene of the decapitated head

"What on Earth are you watching" he said

"Chicago PD. It's getting good" you replied, not even turning around but keeping your eyes glued to the screen as they gave a close-up of the body

"Jesus. Whatever happened to Bluey or Kipper the Dog?" he asked as he tossed his suit jacket onto a nearby chair

"Dad quiet, they're examining the body" you held up your pointer finger to 'shush' him

He usually doesn't fuss too much over your grades (I don't think he did that well in school) but he just cares about the effort that you put in towards your grades more so than the result

When you were younger, you got a really bad grade on a certain subject so when you got out of school, you ran home and dug through your mailbox to find your report card and tuck it into your pants and you shuffled through the house heading through barricade "Dad" giving him robotic one worded response

You tucked the report card under your mattress and hid in your room the rest of the evening and shuffled downstairs for dinner

The entire meal you avoided his eyes and he had to bribe it out of you with cake and a trip to the zoo

He wasn't mad at you for the bad grade but he was disappointed that you hid the report card

You stopped hiding your report cards since your grades got better and in your teen years, you had no reason to hide report cards since your school had a website for parents to check on grades

Additionally, when you were little, he didn't know anything about what clothes little girls liked to wear so he bought what you pointed your finger at

You ended up with a leather aviator hat with goggles that you begged your dad for at the Intrepid in New York City, a baseball shirt, cargo shorts with a water gun tucked into your waistband

like this (You were also the pinnacle of Yotsuba from Yotsuba&! when you were a child)

or you would wear a tutu instead of shorts with knee-high socks with stripes and hot pink sneakers and it was fashion

In your teen years, he would just give you his card to shop with for all your clothes

Messy pigtails with bows that would be crazy lopsided at the end of the day turned into long hair pulled back neatly into a claw clip

Dirty fingernails from catching cicadas turned into perfectly manicured fingers wrapping your knuckles in tape after a match

Wet t-shirts from spending afternoons catching frogs turned into feet in the water while fishing with Nam in the summer

A portrait of you and him stood proudly on his nightstand. Him in his military uniform and you in your JROTC uniform. He looks at it every day and brought it with him to the A.R.E.S base

And cause you learn to fight, you've gotten into a few fights with girls at school who've tried to pour milk on you but you pulled a pocket knife on them

The car ride home was silent as Nam drove you back from school. Early pick up and a four day suspension. You poked at the leather of the BMW car seat mentally preparing for whatever lecture your father was going to give you He slowed the car down at a red light and let out a sigh The signature dad 'I'm gonna say something to scold you' sigh. Nam could swear up and down that he's never sighed like that until you came along "y/n" he began and you slowly looked over at him "If you were going to fight then you should've kept it under wraps. I thought that I had taught you to plan for damage control" "Um" how were you supposed to respond to that? "Now, I don't know what this girl did to make you lash out - so much so as you pulled a knife on her-" Nam said as the light turned green and he began to drive again "Oh please, it was a Swiss Army Knife. Those are lousy weapons" "Do you think the school board cares about that? Especially since "Her father is on the school board" "Her father is on the school board" You said as the same time "Yeah yeah" you waved it off. "He can't expell me I'm the best student AND! The school won't release this to keep their image good" you looked over at him "The only issue is shutting up the dad" you said as you pointed your finger at him "First of all, put your finger down. Secondly, don't change the subject - I'll deal with you at home. And thirdly, leave her father to me"

Tbh, he never understood half of what you did (or said) but you were his only daughter and he loves you so much

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[thoughtsforsoob]

could i request a soobin with enemies to lovers prompt? 🥹 i think i have an obsession with this trope atm

a/n: hello anon! i hope you enjoy this. i wasn't sure how i was going to write this but i made it happen! i love the enemies to lovers trope but i cannot write it for my life. please enjoy this! i hope it lives up to expectations. 

you and soobin were total opposites. he was this cool guys with a close knit friend group and lot’s of popularity. he had a set group of people that would eat lunch with him everyday. he was really smart too. he constantly made student of the month and was on track to secure the valedictorian spot for your graduation class. 

you on the other hand…you had only two friends you hung out with everyday and you lacked the popularity he had. you loved your friends group so it’s not like you were complaining or anything. you were also very smart. you were good at pretty much everything you teachers put in front of you. art, english, math, history. anything. 

this is where your story starts. you and soobin usually did not cross paths at all and if you did…it was because he was insulting your intelligence and lack of friends. he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings so deeply but little did he know, you would go home and cry into your pillow because of his hurtful words. he would put you down by both only questioning your intelligence but even your looks. saying things along the lines of, “well, we can’t all be good looking and smart”. When he’d run into you in the hall ways during passing period, he would humiliate you by screaming and then saying, “oh wait, it’s just you. i swear i just saw something straight out of a horror movie.” you would go home and curse him. how could he be so handsome and so mean at the same time? it’s not fair! 

you two were made to cross paths on this occasion because you were both called into the principals office. the principal organized this meeting to let you know you both were tied for the spot of valedictorian and that you both would have to share the honor if nothing changed with your grades. soobin took this as a threat and you, were just fine with it. he started going on about how it’s not fair that he had to share such a high honor with a girl. when you left the principals office, he let you know his intentions to raise his grades to beat you. when you just shrugged him off, he grabbed your wrist. you glared at him. “let me go! i’ll tell someone!” he sighed and rolled his eyes, “as if anyone would actually care.” he looks you up and down, “just back down. you’re too stupid to even formulate a speech to accept this award. why do you even want it so bad?” 

you pull your wrist back, “it’s none of your damn business! leave me alone. I'm not backing down and I'm not going to no matter what you say.” you turn and walk away, back to the class you had left for the meeting. he watches you walk away with a smirk. he was thinking of ways to get you to back down as he walked back to class. 

after school and clubs, he went to look for you. he was going to tell you again to back off when he noticed something strange. he was walking into the gym since he knew you’d be come with volleyball (let’s just say you play) but the gym was really quiet. among the quiet, he heard a small voice, begging the word ‘stop’ over and over. he finally recognized this voice as yours. as much as he pretended to hate you, he couldn't help but go over there and asses the situation. 

you were being back into a corner by a sophomore in your club. his name was Jake. he was much taller than you and much bigger. he’d been asking you on a date at every single club meeting for a whole month. Since he always made you feel uncomfortable and unsafe, you would always decline. he kept asking and asking until he finally got fed up and decided he was going to make you say yes. he decided to do this by backing you into a corner of the gym once everyone was gone after practice. you always stayed behind alone to clean up since your friends had to run off to their part time jobs after club. he decided today was the day and he started to back you into the corner. 

soobin hesitates but decided the right thing to do was to intervene. he walks up behind Jake and when you see him, you gasp. Jake was looking at you with a raised eye brow and suddenly feels a big hand grab his should and pull him back. “hey, Jake. what are you doing?” soobin puts on a fake smile and pat’s the younger boy’s shoulder. Jake rolls his eyes, “I'm asking her on a date and she’s not saying yes! can you believe this? who wouldn’t wanna date me?” Soobin finally stops smiling and does what he came there to do. he pushed Jake back and the younger boy stumbled, falling onto his butt. "you leave her alone. you hear me? i thought you know better than you harass girls who want nothing to do with you?” soobin grabs your hand and looks at you, “come on. let’s get any from this loser. he’s got a lesson to learn later on. i’ll be back for you.” soobin threatens. you follow soobin as he gently pulls your arm to lead you outside safely. he refuses to let go of you hand when asking if you were okay. "did he touch you? I'm sorry he did that to you.” he groan and pull your hand back.

“why do you care? you always talk shit to me. why did you even step in? you could definitely not care less about me.” you look down at the floor, kicking dirt around. you felt back for talking to him that way after he saved you but you couldn’t help it. why did he do this? he looks at you, “i wasn’t going to let him hurt you. no one deserves to be harassed by anyone. not even you.” you look up at him with softer eyes. you notice how he got shy when you looked in his eyes. you smile at him for the first time ever. "thank you. thank you for saving me from him.” he take his hands and look at him again. "are you shy?” you laugh when his face and ears to red. his body betrayed him. "hey, this is no fair, you’re touching me. how am i supposed to react when he pretty girl touches me?” 

you gasp, “pretty? now you’re just messing with me. don’t do that.” your smile turns into a frown and soobin panics. “hey! hey! I'm not kidding. I'm serious. i really do think you’re pretty. im sorry for all those times i said other wise. I'm sorry I've been such an ass hole to you. i’ve treated you like absolute shit for no reason. you’re too pretty to be treated like crap.” he panics when you start to tear up but he wipes your tears away. he goes as far as to pull you into his chest and hug you. you melt into him and hide your face in his chest. he let’s you cry for a while. 

finally, you look up at him with puffy, red eyes. “so…what now? am i gonna have to go home and cry into my pillow because you’re going to tell me you don’t like me the way i think you do?” he smiled at you and wiped your face again. “i don’t think so. i like you a lot. how about i go in there and help you finish cleaning and then i can walk you home? we can stop for some boba tea? my treat for being such an asshole.” you smile at him and hug him again. "sure. but…only if you’ll be my boyfriend.” he turns red once again and whines, “Hey! what’s with your love of flustering me?” you frown, “is that a no?” he shakes his head, “you’re already got me wrapped around your cute fingers, you know?” you smile at him and you both hug. he places a sweet kiss on your cheek and you turn red. 

[iboatedhere]

could I please get "heart shaped sunglasses" as a prompt? I love canon but if there's an AU that speaks to you I'd love that too

I went with a photographer/model AU.

—

Alex didn’t grow up thinking he wanted to be a photographer.

He cycled through dreams that almost every kid has—doctor, teacher, President of the United States, and astronaut. For a few weeks, when he was four, he thought seriously about becoming a T-rex.

When he was thirteen, he found an old camera in the attic that his father had left behind when he moved out.

He watched a half-dozen YouTube videos to figure out how to get it to work, then took a photography class in high school and got a position on the school paper, taking shots of football games and events around town.

He thought he looked cool, carrying around a vintage camera that used real film in the age of sleek digital devices and camera phones, and he was good at it. He received heaps of praise from his photography teacher, won awards in local contests, and even sold a few prints at farmer’s markets and craft fairs around Austin.

Alex majored in studio art in college, focusing on photography and media. He learned about color, composition, and lighting. He studied Ansel Adams, Dorthea Lange, Steve McCurry, and Robert Capa. He thought about becoming a war correspondent, embedding himself in the most volatile parts of the globe and reporting the truth through photographs—gritty, raw, and dangerous.

Where he ended up was someplace much softer.

–

Alex first saw Henry Fox on the glossy pages of one of June’s fashion magazines when he was twelve.

Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar. Maybe Cosmopolitan. He can’t remember. What he can remember is Henry Fox’s wide, blue eyes and golden hair. He remembers looking at the close-up photo of him for too long until June cleared her throat and met his startled gaze with raised brows.

He looked for Henry after that. Sneaking into June’s room or stealing the magazine straight from the mailbox when it was delivered. He’d bring it with him to the treehouse in the backyard and search.

Before Alex even had a word for it, most of the photos had felt exploitative. Henry, too young, around much older models. Odd poses and barely there clothing. Henry never looked happy. He never smiled. Alex would never photograph him like that. He never really thought about photographing him at all. Mostly, he just wanted to hang out with him. Maybe take him swimming at Barton Springs, to a baseball game in Round Rock, or ride their bikes together. He just wanted to make Henry smile.

Alex found out later that Henry’s father was a famous actor and his mother was a supermodel, making Henry one of the world’s biggest nepo-babies.

Maybe doors automatically opened for Henry. Maybe he has a trust fund or an inheritance and never has to work another day in his life. Alex is unsure of those things, but he is certain Henry is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

–

Alex lowers his camera as the art director flutters into the frame, tugging on the strap of Emily’s bikini top and sweeping Henry’s hair off his forehead.

“Perfect,” she says before waving in Alex’s direction. “Okay. Keep going.”

Alex rolls his eyes and lines up another shot.

He doesn't really know what the point of this shoot is. He guesses it’s supposed to be playful…a fun day by the pool where Henry has stolen her heart-shaped sunglasses and perched them on the top of his head while she’s taken his diamond-studded watch and is holding it against her throat like a necklace. But Emily’s bikini is practically see-through, Henry is wearing a pair of swim trunks that hide nothing, and Alex doesn’t understand what they’re trying to sell, aside from their bodies.

So goes the fashion industry.

“Did you get it?” Henry calls out to him without moving a muscle.

Alex blinks through the viewfinder. “What?”

“Did you get the shot?” He asks.

“Oh. Yeah. Probably.”

“Good,” Henry says, “my foot is beginning to cramp.”

He shifts, and Emily hops off his lap and into a robe a PA is holding while Henry stands up, stretches the arch of his foot, and accepts his own robe.

It’s all so fast and formal as if they didn’t just spend the last hour dry-humping each other by a pool at a mansion in Beverly Hills.

Alex isn’t sure if he could pull that off, being that close to either of them and acting like it’s no big deal. Things are easier behind the lens of a camera.

Alex busies himself by pulling the photos up on his laptop. He took nearly two hundred. At least one has to be good enough to go to print.

“May I see?”

Alex nods, and Henry steps into his space, pressing their shoulders together before Alex can make room.

“Christ,” Henry says as he peers at the screen. “Am I really that pale?”

“We can fix it in post?”

Henry hums. “Add it to the list,” he jokes, but it’s not funny at all.

Alex knows that no one is perfect, but he thinks the people he photographs—Henry especially—are about as close to the idea of it as possible. That won’t stop every photo he’s in from being scrutinized and edited to death. They’ll airbrush out the moles that dot across his ribs, the small half-moon scar by his left hip, and the line between his brows. Whatever they do to Henry, it’ll be ten times worse for Emily.

“You’re very good at this,” Henry tells him. It’s not the first time they’ve worked together, but it’s the first time Henry has complimented him.

“Thanks. You make it easy. I mean you guys—you two—you and Emily,” Alex flounders. “You look good.”

“Is it the sunglasses?” Henry asks as he reaches up and touches the thin, pink frames.

“Yes,” Alex answers. “They complete the look. Maybe they’ll let you keep them since they suit you so well.”

“I’ll be sure to ask,” Henry says, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

—

Unsurprisingly, it was June that helped him shape his view of fashion.

When he was younger, he’d point to the avant-garde looks in her magazines and genuinely ask who the hell would ever wear this?

“No one,” She’d tell him as she snatched the magazine away. “Sometimes clothes aren’t meant to be worn, they’re meant to be admired. It’s like how some people go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. Other people find their art in fashion magazines.”

He reminds himself of that each time he attends Fashion Week in London, Milan, or Paris. It’s an art exhibit; the models are living sculptures.

In the front row of the Dior show at Bryant Park, Alex thinks Henry makes a stunning canvas.

His hair is dyed dark brown, a near match to the cropped leather jacket he’s wearing, only half zipped, his chest bare. Alex watches his long legs in oversized wool shorts as they walk down the runway, where he stops at the end, poses, and then continues back. He looks down at Alex as he passes, tips his head up, and disappears backstage.

Only after he’s gone does Alex realize he didn’t get a single photo of him.

–

They let me keep the glasses, by the way.

Alex frowns down at his phone as he tries to parse out the Instagram DM that popped up on the screen.

He has two accounts—an official photography account and a smaller, more personal one, followed only by his family and friends. Alex knows he isn’t famous, not yet anyway, but he knows that people can get weirdly parasocial, and he’d rather not have to purge his main account a few years down the line.

This message, from a GEJames97, was sent to his personal account.

????? Alex sends back.

The ones from the shoot, the next message reads.

This is Henry.

Fox.

Alex’s frown deepens. Henry has an Instagram account. He has nearly four million followers and posts photos of his most recent campaigns at least twice a week. Not that Alex is keeping track.

Prove it, Alex says.

A few moments later, a photo of Henry Fox in the pink, heart-shaped glasses pops up.

Pez told me about this account. I hope that’s okay.

Pez…..???????

Percy Okonjo.

Percy Okonjo is an up-and-coming designer who is best friends with Henry. They have the entire fashion world buzzing with speculation that Henry will start working with Percy the second his contract with Dior ends.

Percy also was a guest editor for Vogue and had an undefined thing with June. Alex doesn’t know the details, and he’ll never ask for them, but it was enough that Percy followed Alex’s personal account.

How long are you in New York? Henry asks, and Alex feels his heart rate kick up.

Why do you think I’m still in New York?

Henry sends him a photo Alex posted earlier of a friendly Central Park squirrel eating a small piece of bagel out of his hand.

Until Sunday, Alex tells him. Why?

Doing anything tonight?

Alex blows out a breath.

Not yet.

Alex has only been at the bar for three minutes before Henry shows up. Alex appreciates the promptness, it gives him less time to be nervous.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Henry says anyway, leaning in to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek that leaves Alex feeling untethered. “Traffic in Manhattan is insane.”

“It’s fine,” Alex says, “you’re good. You’re…” Alex trails off because Henry is beautiful in jeans, a t-shirt (that probably cost more than Alex’s hotel room bill), and a Yankees cap pulled low over his face.

“If you want to go someplace else–,” Alex starts.

“Why would I want to go someplace else?” Henry interrupts, raising his hand to wave down the bartender.

“I don’t know. I feel like this place isn’t your usual vibe.”

It’s not a dive by any means, but it’s certainly not the flashy restaurants and clubs Henry usually attends.

“A few months ago, Pez brought me to this place in Chinatown. We followed this woman down a narrow stairwell for what felt like forever, light flickering and water dripping from the ceiling. I would’ve phoned my sister to say goodbye, but I didn’t have cell service. If I can survive that, I can survive this.” He glances around the bar. “I don’t fear for my life at all here.”

“You’re in America,” Alex tells him. “You should kinda always be fearing for your life.”

Henry snorts. “I suppose that’s true, but I am enjoying myself.”

“You just got here.”

Henry shrugs. “Then maybe it’s the company.”

Alex ducks his head. “How long are you in the city for?”

“At least another two weeks,” Henry tells him. “I’ll have a good bit of downtime, but not enough to fly home between shoots. I’m trying to figure out ways to keep myself busy. Do you have any ideas?”

Alex has about a million. He’s been thinking about this since he was twelve years old.

“Have you ever actually been to a Yankees game?” Alex asks, and Henry shakes his head. “They’re in town if you wanna go.”

Henry smiles, big and bright, even in the murky lighting of the bar, and Alex feels like he’s suddenly accomplished everything he could ever want in life.

[whylovemaeu]

Be my Valentines!

Han Yujin x female!reader

DESCRIPTION: It was Valentine's Day, and the art teacher told the entire to make cards. One problem though, your best friend Yujin refuses to tell you who his card is for. Until the end of the school day when he promises he will tell you. Maybe being patient is very necessary for this one..

It was the first class on Valentine's Day, and obviously y/n’s art teacher announced to the class that they will all be making arts and crafts for the special day, while taking a break from the current projects. y/n smiled as she turned around to her table mate, who was clearly deep into listening to his teacher— Han Yujin.

“You all will decorate cards today for Valentine’s Day,” y/n’s art teacher said as she pulled up examples on the board. “I have all of the examples up at my desk, so if you would like to follow the examples, you can take a look.” The teachers kept blabbering about how it was important to put your heart into the cards to give to someone. 

“Yujin, who are you making the card for?” y/n beamed as Yujin turned to y/n. Yujin’s ears turned red as he turned away from y/n. “Heyyy, tell me who you are giving your card to!” y/n whined as she shook Yujin’s card.

“Not you,” Yujin said as he went up to the table and grabbed the materials. y/n pouted as she followed him as well.

_

After gathering the materials, the duo got straight to work on their cards. Yujin was drawing cupids on his card, as y/n cutted out cute hearts. y/n pouted again as she turned to Yujin.

“Just tell me who it is for!” y/n whined as Yujin sighed.

“Not for you,” Yujin said as he brushed y/n off. Yujin took y/n’s colored pencils from her pencil case, and started coloring on his card. It wasn’t fair. Yujin was a great artist, and he was drawing everything y/n liked.. y/n pouted again as she went back to making her card. Yujin looked over at y/n, something about her was just.. Sad. Did he go too far? He is definitely going to make it up, right?

_

“Yujin! Yujin! Look at my card!” y/n beamed as Yujin turned to look. “Doesn’t it look so cute!”

“It sure does,” Yujin replied as he finished his card.

“I really wished you could tell me who that card is for, it looks really nice,” y/n pouted.

“Don’t guilt trip me,” Yujin sighed. “If you stop asking, I’ll tell you after school.”

“Okay!” y/n jumped as she started to pack up the art materials. Yujin smiled as little things like that always managed to cheer up y/n. Yujin was deep into his thoughts, and only stopped when y/n waved her hand in front of Yujin. Yujin snapped out his thoughts and composed himself.

“Jeez, you were daydreaming so hard,” y/n giggled. “What were you even daydreaming about?”

“Nothing, I’m tired,” Yujin said. “Look, we have our next class, so let's pay attention!” Yujin was thankful that you often got distracted easily by teachers. His blush remained on his cheeks as he flipped through his notebook to take his notes while trying to avoid eye contact with y/n.

_

School had long been over, but y/n was nowhere to be seen. Yujin was leaning on the sidewalk, near the school entrance, where you can clearly see him. A lot of the students had already gone home, but not y/n. Yujin was sure of it, he came out much earlier. Did she really just ditch Yujin? No she couldn’t have, she said that she was going to walk home with Yujin today. Just then when Yujin was deep inside his thoughts, he felt a light smack on the arm. y/n! 

“Why are you spacing out so much today? I’m getting quite worried. Are you feeling alright?” y/n asked as she looked to see if Yujin had any injuries.

“I’m–” Yujin tried saying but paused. “I’m fine, I’m just. I uhm. I wanted to tell you who my card is for.” y/n paused and remembered.

“Right! I kind of forgot, but tell me, who is the lucky person!” y/n asked as Yujin sighed as he grabbed the things behind him.

“You.” Yujin said with a red face as he gave you a small plushie with the valentines card. “I.. Can you be my Valentine’s y/n? I know you’re my best friend, but I really like you. I promise you won’t regret it. y/n’s face beamed as she took the plushie and card and gave Yujin a big squeeze.

“Of course! I like you too!” Yujin smiled. It was the response he wanted to hear.

author note: hi thank u for reading this ^^ i do have a plan to start writing shorter stories for zb1, then getting into the bigger series. i might start a smau soon after i figure out a plot and apps, but please leave any tips and suggestions if you have any! thank u for reading again!!

[creaturecomfxrts]

Dipper and Mabel pines headcanons?

FINALLY getting around to answering these! since im better at them, heres some college age headcanons that apply just as much to how i view them in the show!

DIPPER PINES

transmasc. duh. of course

parents are INCREDIBLY supportive, super understanding. hes on hormone blockers in the show and starts HRT as soon as hes able, getting top surgery and bottom surgery in his early 20s

bisexual! ran into a guy junior year of highschool and went oh GOD. this is wendy 2.0 im going to die

NERD.

LOVES board games. so much. not just dungeons and dragons and monopoly im talkin everdell, wingspan, cascadia, catan. he loves a good think. he also loves dragging everyone else into playing them with him. he always wins. almost always, anyway

absolutely adores college and everything about it hes a little freak. totally ends up being the president of a few clubs, co creating some, etc. made an occult club AND a hiking club at his college

loves doodling, loves horror. his teachers? not so much. they try not to look at the weird ass creatures he draws on the margins of his very well written homework.

probably goes into something smart. like biochem. or um. stem. im (author) is a liberal arts major all i do is write gay fanfiction.

PSYCHOTIC ASS DORM ROOM. he barely decorated it like a classic college male but has a conspiracy board and thats it. which is full of strange shit hes seen outside of gravity falls. to be fair its very well documented and somewhat neat, just…. strange decor. he lives in a single (introvert)

COVERED in tattoos, but always abides by the suit rule (all tattoos need to be able to be covered by a suit to be professional. he knows this bc hes a neerrrrddd). he has really sick sleeves of runes and other occult like things hes found interesting. he has cipher related tattoos as well and also even got ford to design a few.

he has PROMINENT eye bags. he will never fix his sleep schedule

ended up working as a summer camp counselor for a while right outside if gravity falls! the kids loved him but he couldnt stand the heat and bugs all the time so he only did it for a summer or two

even after turning 21 he doesnt actually drink that much, hes a craft beer enjoyer and likes to make it himelf (Much later in life)

ALWAYS stays in touch with mabel. if anything happens in either of their lives you better BELIEVE theyre already on the phone with eachother

medical marijuana card holder

smokes to help eith his anxiety. it works WONDERS

coffee drinker but actually Does put cream and sugar is coffee. sometimes. other times hes too tired and just thugs it out

MABEL PINES

THE number one it girl ever

NUMBER ONE TRANS ALLY EVERRRRRR she loves her brother so much

pansexual!! she loves cool people, thats her motto

went to a fashion design school, is loving it despite drowning in work

began dying her hair in cool ways through highschool, now she always has some of her natural color present but goes a little crazy on the highlights

found out about huge dangley joke earrings. went absolutely crazy. has an entire space on her desk dedicated to her many many earrings. she has babies, knives, bags of doritos, aliens, glow in the dark ones, anything you could imagine.

fantastic at fashion design. stuggled a lot with the fancier stuff but her teachers were floored when they let her go wild on casual comfy wear. she excells in combining fashion and comfort in really exciting and colorful ways.

a party girl through and through, loves clubs, raves, concerts, anything!

video game lover as well, cracked at pvp games.

still boy crazy, just less so (has had like. 10 college boyfriends)

literally the sweetest friend ever. she loves hosting movie nights and tea parties (bc who wouldnt. theyre awesome)

tea drinker, loves floral teas with honey

HATES. black coffee. a starbucks frap girlie 4ever

has been scouted for modeing multiple times and only accepted when it was a commercial with puppies

love love loves making friendshio bracelets. knows all the patterns, all of her friends have a hefty amount of a bunch of different ones because she just keeps making them

anywwy, here you go! i love these two so much, i hope ive done them justice!

[0oolookitsme]

Melted Ice Cream

Type - Blurb

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n

Word Count - 901

Warnings - None! Maybe some cursing here and there.

A/N - Wrote this on my phone and that too in a hour or so. This is just a cute little scene, hope you like it <3

(Just the Harry I pictured while writing this:)

The room remained silent, neither of them spoke a word but it was a known fact that both the pair of eyes were wide open.

"H?"

"Yep?"

There wasn't anything funny but the two still chortled. "Why the hell are you still awake?" Y/n asked, releasing his hand to rub her eyes.

"I don't know, why are you?" He asked back, turning on his side to face her. Out of habit, one of his legs swung up on her thigh.

Y/n didn't exactly turn on her side, but she still tilted her head in a way that she was facing him. Nothing but the A/C's light penetrated the darkness in the room, and they could still tell where the other one's eyes and mouth and head and nose were. Silence lingered around for a while before Y/n decided to speak up again.

"I can’t sleep, can we have ice cream?"

“I was about to say that!" Harry exclaimed silently and y/n could just tell that he had this wide grin on his face and that his eyebrows were probably closer to his hairline than to his eyes now.

It was as if they were little kids, the way they jumped off of the bed and scurried to be at each other's side – not exactly fitting in the door frame but still squeezing their way through. Sounds of small, high pitched giggles filled the whole house as they raced down the stairs. "No!" Harry cackled, fisting y/n's shirt from behind when she ran him out. Pulling her back into him he grabbed a tight hold of her by wrapping one arm around her waist and twisted to swing her behind and run ahead.

"That's cheating, H! You're such a loser!" She yelled, laughing and slightly wheezing.

Neither of them know why they are racing, it's not like they only have one scoop of ice cream left. But it was still obvious that the one who reaches the fridge first, wins. And while Y/n is a competitive freak, Harry wouldn't necessarily give himself that title – yet it's clear that if he's playing, he aims to win.

Harry opened the freezer with a smug smile on his face, pulling out a tub of vanilla ice-cream.

"Stop smiling like that or I will slap that off your face, you fuckin' cheater," Y/n grumbled from where she was sitting on the kitchen counter.

His frown started to melt into a lopsided grin on his mouth as he opened the drawer to pull out their ice cream bowls. "Oh please, you're just salty your loser ass couldn't win." He said, looking at her as if waiting for her to tell him to fuck off – and she did, indeed, flip him off.

Their ice cream bowls, on the other hand, are a whole nother story. They had gone to a ceramics class from their school's side and at the end of the workshop, had to make some bowls to show what they had learnt. The only thing that went wrong was that their bowls ended up looking like 'too-tiny bucket hats', as the incharge there had joked. They were so unbelievably tiny for a bowl that their crafts teacher at school believed that it had to be intentional.

But it was absolutely unintentional. They were just talking so much that the goal had escaped them, that's all.

On Harry's cup, Y/n had painted small footballs and written 'balls out' in the smallest font. And Harry, on the other hand, had painted small cherries and white doodle-flowers all over her cup. They had even gotten detention, for allegedly making a joke of a representation of their school.

"Want sprinkles?" Y/n asked him, kneeling on the floor in the front of the lowest cabinet. Harry only bummed in return, busy in scooping out equal amounts of ice cream in each bowl. She stood close next to him as she sprinkled the colourful bits on top of his ice cream first, and then onto hers.

"Hey! No fair! You have more sprinkles than mine!" Harry claimed, grabbing her hand and forcing her to put more on his. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" He rushed, trying to take the jar out of her hand as she leaned on the slab to keep her body up while she laughed.

Whining, Harry took a few steps back. "Oh my god, now that's too much sprinkles!" He gritted through his teeth, frowning at her wheezing figure, then slowly and slowly, joining her. Before he knew, they were both kneeling on the kitchen floor, curling up because they were laughing so hard their stomach hurt.

"Why the fuck are you la-laughing?" Y/n asked in the midst, sitting up straight to calm down. "What's funny?" She asked seriously but then Harry spurted out another laugh and she was laughing again.

Tears were rolling down both their cheeks as they finally gained control over themselves. "Wait, wait, wait – this is melting!" Harry shrieked, grabbing ahold of his cup and raising a full spoon to his mouth.

"I told you eat it right away, you idiot!" Y/n panicked from behind, also reaching for her cup. "What?" She asked when Harry passed her a suspicious look.

"You never told me that."

"Do i really need to tell you to eat your ice cream before it fucking melts, Harry?"

Prompt Creds to @me-writes-prompts <3

Tagging: @reveriehs <3

MASTERLIST <3