#except for a shirt from a thrift store

[cyberstabbing]

my dad and little brother are flying to japan tomorrow so i get to ask them to bring a bunch of stuff back for me :))) i'd ask for some obscure manga but most of it will be in japanese (duh), so maybe not. although wait i would love the new edition of sugar sugar rune! and some make up!

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

how to show you have no clue what grunge is: make a high fashion grunge design for a fashion show

[bibleofficial]

didn’t see her movie but she so me

[evenstarfalls]

At some point I started turning my nose up at buying new clothes made of polyester and honestly that's been really really good for me I think

[scented-morker]

Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

“Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

[wheeboo]

laundry day | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem) GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!! - #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow." - #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!

join the 2k celebration!

You are so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?

You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.

Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.

Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"

He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.

Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"

The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.

Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"

"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋

"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."

You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.

"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.

"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"

You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?

You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.

A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."

His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."

Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?

"No."

"Or it can't be postponed?"

"Nope."

"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"

"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.

Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"

"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."

Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.

"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."

"You're cute."

"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"

Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.

"I said you're really dumb."

That is not what he said.

For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?

Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.

"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.

Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.

The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.

"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."

You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"

You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.

"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"

"𑁋because I'm cute?"

"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."

You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."

"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.

You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."

Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.

You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.

"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."

Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.

"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."

"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."

Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"

"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."

A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."

You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."

another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

[hawkinsbnbg]

thank you, santa

prompt: santa | word count: 986 | rated: T | tags: omega verse, true mates, soulmates, love at first sight, omega Steve, runaway Steve, Steve has bad parents, alpha Eddie, implied mpreg | @steddieholidaydrabbles | ao3

Growing up, Steve had learned that Santa wasn't real. His parents had made sure to break his naïve fantasy as soon as he started asking them questions about the world.

For a long time, Steve believed them and thought his classmates were stupid to prepare milk and cookies for Santa. Still, somewhere inside his head, there was a small voice that doubted everything Richard and Dana Harrington told him in their dismissive tones, but Steve was too desperate to please them to even pause and think for himself.

But when he presented as an omega and had to endure their contempt for him, he decided they were bullshit.

———

Christmas was a cursed holiday among the Harrington. Or maybe it was just Steve who'd been a disappointment to his poor parents since his birth. Either way, it didn't matter anymore considering he'd made peace with the fact that he had shitty parents the moment he hitchhiked out of town to escape from under their thumbs.

And yet, three years later, he still wished his Christmas wasn't always so cold and lonely, wished he had a family to celebrate it with. But while Santa might be real, he knew he wasn't good enough to be granted such a thing. After all, no good omega would be abandoned by their pack or struggle at reining in their instinct—the one that always made him needy for a smidge of warmth and go haywire around children.

Fortunately, the record store didn't require his flimsy control, they only asked him to smile pretty and assist the customers as best as he could, which was a piece of cake given the omega training his parents had briefly put him through all those years ago.

Loathed at them as he might, part of the reason he excelled at his job was thanks to them. And every day, Steve tried to not think about that even though his mind tended to spiral without his consent. At this point, it was a bad habit he couldn't get rid of.

Steve grimaced as he stared at the fake pine tree on the display shelf. Even now, he could still hear his mother criticizing him for wearing the clothes he chose. He had got them from a thrift shop; the soft maroon sweater, the washout jeans that didn't try to squeeze him to death, the worn sneakers that didn't hurt to walk in. He wished—

Steve paused arranging the vinyl records to pinch the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was the holiday effect because he caught himself making more wishes lately. It didn't hurt to seek a little comfort from magic and fairytale, but he couldn't afford to delude himself anymore. Not when the last time he did, he had nearly been sold away.

Besides, it wasn't like he could just ask to see his soulmate right now even though it was already 1986—the year that his soul mark had mentioned—and Christmas was just around the corner. Because there was a fat chance they wouldn't be compatible and had to give up on each other in the end anyway. (He wondered if that was why his parents kept reminding him soulmates weren't real.)

Too lost in his thoughts, Steve didn't pick up the pinewood scent right away, but when someone cleared their throat lightly behind him, it was the first thing that his inner omega latched onto. Thinking it was a customer asking for his assistance, he turned around with a greeting on the tip of his tongue only to have the air sucked out of him.

The handsome stranger had long black curls, pale skin, big dark chocolate eyes, plump lips, and a cute nose that had turned slightly red due to the cold weather. His outfit was mostly black—a Judas Priest t-shirt, leather jacket, combat boots, and chains—except for the maroon knitted scarf tied in a half-hearted bow on his neck.

Not to mention the way he smelled— Steve breathed in deeply and felt something right just click inside him.

There he is, he sighed dreamily.

Mine, his inner omega purred.

They were clearly made for each other, and god, Steve needed to marry this man like yesterday.

Much to his giddiness, the alpha seemed equally flustered, pupils dilated and cheeks tinged pink as he took in Steve—fluffy chestnut hair, doe-like hazel eyes, rosy cheeks, and pouty lips—before blurting out with awe.

"Damn, '86 is really my year."

Steve burst into a fit of giggles, unable to believe his luck. According to the statistics, it was supposed to be one in a million, but here they were—soulmates and scent mates. All in one package.

The alpha seemed baffled by his unfettered joy at first, but then beamed at him brightly as he nodded to confirm the man's suspicion, as the sweet cocoa and vanilla started blooming in the air, joining the pinewood scent and earthy musk in a beautiful harmony.

Steve couldn't wait to listen to the songs of their bond once they officially mated. He couldn't wait to build a future with this lovely man.

Grinning so wide that his cheeks hurt, Steve threw himself into those strong arms, melting when they caught him in a warm and protective embrace.

With the enthusiasm of an eager pup opening his Christmas present, he unknotted the scarf and nuzzled his alpha's bonding gland, feeling a little lightheaded as he chirped merrily.

"Thank you, Santa."

This time, it was his alpha's turn to laugh in joy, hugging him close and pressing a tender smile to his head.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

———

December '86, Steve Munson was home.

———

September '88, Emily Munson opened her eyes with a loud cry, ready to conquer the world with her tiny fists and unruly curls.

Cradling their pup in his chest, Steve smiled tearfully and let his husband wrap them both in those loving arms.

Santa was real, after all.

[puppys-tiny-space]

👑Tips for littles on a budget👑

This is some tips for tinies (or carers looking for gifts for kiddos) on a budget! Of course you don't need any gear to be a good regressor but a lot of us like toys etc. and it's okay to want them!

🧸thrift stores, a lot of thrift stores have toys and plushies, sometimes they are a bit broken or dirty but there are lots of tutorials on YouTube for cleaning and restoring plushies and toys🧸

🐾e-books, you can find kids books online as e-books which are often pretty cheap or you can watch tiktoks of people reading those books🐾

🩷diy onesies, a lot of regressors like onesies but the prices are pretty steep, if you can't afford them don't fret! Its super easy and affordable to make one yourself all you need is an old t-shirt and snap buttons plus a way to attach them, just get a big t-shirt, sweatshirt or even hoodie and add 2-4 snap buttons in the crotch, boom you have a super cute and discreet onesie!🩷

🧸diy toys, there are lots of toys you can make yourself either by sewing or crafting and there's lot soft videos on YouTube for it, or get creative🧸

🐾mobile games, I love to play video games when im regressed but game consoles are expensive so free mobile games are a great alternative🐾

🩷dollar store etc, while you shouldn't rely on stores or websites that use cheap labor for everything it's okay to make exceptions every now and then, especially for toys, pacis, sippy cups and similar🩷

🧸pull ups, instead of cute printed diapers get big kid pull-ups in the baby-section or medical diapers from a drugstore, they are less then half the price of a pack of adult diapers from brands like tears etc.🧸

🐾learn to diy, making things yourself is often the most affordable thing to do, not with everything obviously but with a lot of things, learn as much stuff as you can so you can make lots of gear yourself🐾

🩷look for affordable stores, lots of paci stores on Instagram are very affordable and the ones that aren't often have sales so keep an eye out for that, lots of shops also have promoter codes they are happy for you to use, for example with my code 'bunnybab' you get a small discount at pacisbybunnie and cozypacicorner🩷

🧸buy second hand, thrift stores are a great place but if you want little specific stuff looking on vinted, swoop or even insta is a great idea! Lots of people sell gear they no longer connect with🧸

Fun fact of the day: Bluey's pilot was only a minute long and never actually aired

[mintmatcha]

tw: implied abuse, no curses au

"Can I ask a question?" Yuuji digs his heel into the wood chips as he swings, digging a growing trench behind him. "You don't have to answer."

Ash falls from the end of Choso's cigarette. He leans against the anchor of the swing set, cheek against cold metal, and sighs. Twilight has passed and the streetlights have turned on, giving the playground a hazy, barely lit glow. Yuuji's guardian will start calling soon, but Choso decides the extra time together is worth the future ire.

"I already told you that I'm not giving you a tattoo."

"Aw, damn-" Yuuji clicks his tongue against his teeth. Ever since they met, he's been dying for a tattoo of his own, throwing out wild new ideas almost every day. One day, when he's eighteen and likes an idea for more than a month, Choso will bring him to his studio and comply.

But, not yet.

"That wasn't my question though," Yuuji says.

"Then go for it."

The younger boy takes a deep breath, then lets it out even slower, pulling the tension longer and longer until it snaps.

"Why weren't you... around? Like, when I was a kid and stuff."

Choso takes his own breath.

"Your mom-- our mom." The taste of that sits bitter on his tongue. He never called her mom, even back then. "She was different for me."

And for our other brothers, he adds silently. Yuuji doesn't need to carry that weight yet, the knowledge that he was the exception to it all.

"Why?" Yuuji pumps his legs a little softer, the back and forth motion of the swing slowly dying out.

"I dunno." Choso wishes he had the answer to that. "She was sixteen, did bad things. Don't worry about it."

Finding out about Yuuji wasn't a shock, somehow. Years after Ken had surrendered her children to the state, Choso had received noticed that she had died. The news felt overdue. No tears were shed, no love lost; the group chat of siblings had all agreed not to go to any service, but the day of, Choso had changed his mind.

He had put on his nicest outfit -some thrift store pants that didn't fit and a shirt he stole from foster dad three- and went expecting to be the only one there, the only one willing to say goodbye.

Choso hadn't known about her new family. They hadn't known about him either. It was typical of Ken to leave a mess in her wake.

Turns out, through a series of lucky breaks, the woman had clawed her way out of poverty and into the arms of a rich, but nice man. Her life was easy and sweet, filled with luxuries and love, including a son ten years younger than her eldest.

No one knows why Yuuji was different than the others, why she decided to be good to him and no one else. Mental illness is strange like that, picking and choosing how it pleases.

Yuuji huffs, gripping the metal chains tighter. "But-"

"Yuuji." Choso drops his cigarette and crushes it under his boot. Then, he thinks about the child that will play there tomorrow, shoveling wood chips into their mouths like idiots, and decides to pick it up. He jams it into his pocket. "You have good memories of her. Don't ruin that."

He used to resent how much Yuuji loved her. He was eight when she died, the same age Choso was when he first had to dial 911 for her. That anger had long faded, replaced with a strange amount of pity.

"But I want to know. What she did and stuff." Yuuji's voice jumps high with emotion. "I'm basically an adult, I can handle it."

"You're sixteen."

"Well, mom was doing this stuff at sixteen, so-" Yuuji is seething suddenly, brow furrowed and teeth grit.

"So?"

"So, she was old enough to be doing bad things and I'm not old enough to know about it?" He stands and the swing clatters behind him. He's stocky, yet tall, bunched with muscles that he's built from baseball. On one side of his cheek, there's a bit of chocolate stuck there, a remnant from the ice cream Choso bought him. Below it, there's a rosy hickey on his neck, a remnant of the boyfriend he hasn't told Nanami about yet. He thinks they're having sex, maybe, but doesn't know how to broach the topic without scaring his brother into never talking about it again.

"And you had tattoos at my age, by the way!"

Choso lets him stew in it, huffing and puffing. The blown out edges of first tattoo peek from under his sleeve, the image barely legible now. An older woman gave it to him at fifteen, in the basement of her house. It became so insanely infected that he ended up in the ER a couple days later.

"I'm not a kid. I can handle it." Yuuji states, calm and clear. "I'm not a kid."

A car passes, it's headlights stretching and pulling the shadows across the park. In the changes, Choso can see his mother in his brother, those soft eyes and thin lips and the same slightly crooked nose that Choso has himself. He thinks, maybe, if time was kinder and his father was better, they'd look more alike each other, but then the moment is gone and they no longer even look like siblings.

"Okay."

Yuuji untenses a bit. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Like, okay, this conversation is done, or okay, I'll tell you?"

"I'll tell you," Choso says, jamming his hands in his pocket. The cigarette butt is there, mushed and still warm against his knuckles. "But not tonight."

"What?!"

"Next time, I promise."

Choso doesn't understand why Yuuji insists on rushing away from innocence, but he knows that he can't stop him. Yuuji will find out about the abuse, the neglect, the other brothers, and the other horrors in some way or another and then things will never be the same.

"Stay a kid just a little longer." Choso resists the urge to ruffle his hair. "For me?"

"Yeah, sure," Yuuji sighs. "One more day."

[vincentbriggs]

I keep forgetting to post these because they're kinda boring, but these 4 nightgowns are another thing that had been on The Pile for about 2 or 3 years before I finished them this summer. They're for the most miserable sweaty part of summer, which surprisingly was not too bad this year considering I'm now on the second floor of a very old house.

The bodice pattern is 2 pieces, and the skirt is an approximately 1m x 2m rectangle, except for a little bit cut out from the underarms, for which I made a negative space pattern piece. The shoulder seams are flat felled, and the centre back is a French seam just because that's a bit easier in such wiggly fabric. The gathers are finished the same way the tops of the sleeves are in my shirt tutorial, and the neck and arm holes are finished with bias binding.

I'd made a few before these, and the rayon one was the most comfortable, so all of these are rayon. The burgundy was given to me by @howshouldibegin, the white was from the thrift store, the blue was from the clearance pile at Fabricville, and I have no memory of acquiring the pink one.

[gingerkunoichii]

FANART 1 2 3 (i love you) After leaving your old university under a cloud of scandal, you arrive at Konoha University, ready for a fresh start.

Once queen of the party scene, your killer smile and sharp edge left a trail of broken hearts. The drug fuelled nights, bad decisions, and neon-lit chaos follows you. Alpha Kappa Blossom, a sorority with varying characters welcomes you and you feel like you've known these people for a lifetime very quickly—but nothing comes without strings.

Your past still lingers. No matter how loud the music and whatever you take to sedate yourself from reality, you can’t outrun the fallout.

// WARNINGS // Recreational Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Alcohol, Drinking to Cope, Partying, Greek Life, Fraternities & Sororities, Modern AU, Drunk Sex, Bad Decisions, Fratboy Akatsuki, Fratboy Konoha 11, Most Men Being Fuckboys, Sisterhood, Casual Sex, Drug-Induced Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Toxic, Abusive Relationships, Blackmail, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Huge General Trigger Warning

PLEASE READ TAGS ON AO3 FOR MORE INFO

Chapter 1 You had anticipated your first day at Konoha University would be awkward, but reality surpassed expectation in the worst way. The air outside the dorms was thick with the stale scent of overcooked cafeteria food, cigarette smoke, and restless energy. Faded banners proclaiming "Welcome New Students!" hung askew from upper windows, their colours washed out by time and indifference. You adjusted the strap of your worn duffel bag, its weight biting into your shoulder, and wondered—for the hundredth time—if transferring there had been a mistake. This was supposed to be a fresh start, but now it felt like stepping into a world you were never meant to enter.

The dormitory loomed ahead, stark and institutional, its white paint peeling in long strips and identical windows staring blankly into the distance. Swallowing the knot of unease tightening in your chest, you forced yourself through the entrance. The lobby was bedlam—students wandering aimlessly, parents arguing with stressed-out staff, and someone half-heartedly strumming an acoustic guitar in the corner like they were auditioning for a coming-of-age film. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.

Your dorm assignment paper read: Room 314B - Nara Hall. You climbed a narrow, groaning staircase, your heart pounding for no good reason except that everything about this place felt like it was closing in on you. The third-floor hallway smelled faintly of musty carpet and a failing attempt at floral air freshener. After passing a series of identical, chipped doors, you found your room at the very end of the hall.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed the door open.

The room was... cramped. Two twin beds flanked opposite walls, accompanied by mismatched furniture that looked like it had been salvaged from a thrift-store clearance bin. A single window offered a grim view of the cracked, sun-bleached dorm parking lot. One side of the room was starkly empty—but the other side assaulted the senses.

Posters of conspiracy theories and what you assumed to be arcane symbols smothered the walls, tangled with string lights and Polaroid photos of abandoned playgrounds and distorted forest landscapes. A life-sized cardboard cut out of a low-budget sci-fi character stood vigil by the window, holding a sign that read “WELCOME TO THE VOID.”

And there she was—your roommate.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, clad in striped knee-high socks and a worn T-shirt reading “I Talk to Ghosts” in dripping, horror-themed font. Her choppy, dark hair was pinned back with mismatched coffin-shaped clips. As she meticulously painted her nails with toxic-black polish, she hummed an off-key tune.

Her heavily lined eyes snapped up as you entered, widening theatrically.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, dropping the nail polish onto a precariously stacked pile of books labeled Paranormal Phenomena: Volumes 1-6. “You must be the new girl, I was told by the TA that you’d transferred here into second year! I knew you’d show up.”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah. I’m Y/N.”

She leapt from her bed with unsettling enthusiasm. “I’m Izumi! But my coven calls me ‘Nightshade.’ Well, it’s not officially a coven… yet. But it will be. Eventually.”

You just… stared.

“I manifested you,” she continued proudly, gesturing toward a battered Ouija board displayed prominently on her desk. “I did a summoning ritual for a ‘kindred spirit,’ and—” she pointed emphatically at you—“here you are!” Her grin was disturbingly earnest.

For a moment, you seriously considered turning around, walking out, and requesting a new room assignment. But something in the way her expression softened—like she was genuinely hoping you’d stay—gave you pause.

Against all better judgment, you stepped further into the room, dropping your bag onto the empty bed.

“Cool,” you said flatly, masking uncertainty with indifference. “Just… no goat sacrifices or anything.”

Izumi clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “This is going to be so much fun! ”

You already regretted everything.

Before you could even unzip your duffel bag, Izumi— or Nightshade—sprang from her bed like a coiled spring, crossing the room in three long, almost theatrical strides. Her combat boots thudded softly against the scuffed linoleum floor as her long, striped socks scrunched with each step.

“So! What’s your major?” she asked eagerly, tilting her head like a curious raven inspecting something shiny.

“Uh...” you replied cautiously, still adjusting to her overwhelming energy. “I’m majoring in arts.”

Her eyes widened, practically glowing with excitement. “Arts! That’s perfect. You’re probably one of those tortured-artist types who creates things that make people feel uncomfortable... or haunted.” She gestured wildly as if envisioning some dark, twisted masterpiece. “I knew the universe wouldn’t stick me with some boring business major.”

You let out a faint, exasperated sigh and turned back to unzip your duffel bag, already dreading the rest of this bizarre conversation.

“What’s your zodiac sign?” she pressed, undeterred.

“Scorpio,” you answered flatly, figuring it was easier to cooperate than resist.

She let out a delighted, almost sinister laugh, spinning on her heel as if energized by your answer. “ Of course you’re a Scorpio. I could feel the dark, brooding energy when you walked in.” She nodded to herself as though confirming a long-held suspicion.

You sighed inwardly. “What’s yours?” you asked without looking up, folding a well-worn hoodie and stuffing it into the tiny dresser.

“Capricorn sun, Pisces moon, Scorpio rising,” she declared proudly, her hand placed reverently over her chest. “I’m basically a cosmic enigma.”

You paused, glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you had no idea whatever the fuck those words meant. Her expression was deadly serious, as though she truly believed she was some otherworldly being.

Not knowing how to respond, you continued methodically unpacking your clothes, your fingers brushing against a familiar worn book tucked among your things— The Collected Works of Sylvia Plath . You hesitated, then shoved it deeper into the drawer.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she continued, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper.

“Not really,” you admitted, still bent over the drawer.

“Oh, you will, ” she said with a knowing smirk, leaning in slightly like she was sharing a forbidden secret.

You shot her a wary glance. “Right.”

Izumi dramatically leaned against her bedpost, crossing one leg over the other as her combat boot bounced rhythmically against the frame. Her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement, practically devouring every word you spoke.

“Any exes I need to know about? Stalkers? Cursed objects you brought with you?” she asked, her voice equal parts nosy and fascinated.

“Just... normal stuff,” you muttered not wanting to let her know a single thing about you, shutting the drawer a little harder than necessary and wondering how long this interrogation would last.

“Normal is boring, ” she sighed dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder with practiced flair. “But don’t worry— I’ll fix that.”

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, glittering with something between amusement and intent.

You couldn’t tell if she was joking—or making a promise.

Suddenly, Izumi clapped her hands together with a sharp smack . “Oh! There’s going to be a university fair tomorrow for all the new students. They’ll have sororities— bleh .” She stuck her finger dramatically to her mouth and made an exaggerated gagging sound, rolling her eyes with theatrical disdain.

You bit back a smirk despite yourself.

“Clubs... and my club.” Her expression lit up like she had just revealed the meaning of life.

You raised an eyebrow. “Your club?”

“The Supernatural Society!” she declared proudly, throwing her arms wide like she was summoning the spirits themselves. Her combat boots scuffed the linoleum as she took a commanding stance, practically glowing with excitement. “I’m the president, obviously. ”

Of course she fucking is, you thought dryly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s only the most important club on campus,” she continued, pacing dramatically as though delivering a speech to an unseen audience. “We investigate the unknown, explore the unexplained, and seek truths that others are too afraid to uncover.”

She stopped abruptly and jabbed a finger toward you, her gaze piercing. “You should definitely come. Even if you’re technically a second-year, you’re basically new here.”

Izumi leaned in slightly, lowering her voice into something almost conspiratorial. “We could use someone like you.”

Her eyes gleamed with intent, and for a second, you couldn’t tell if she was inviting you—or recruiting you.

You hesitated, trying to suppress a wave of unease. She’s... real fucking intense.

Before you could answer, she launched back into her pitch. “We meet in the old art studio in East Hall. They say it’s haunted—which is perfect for our sessions.” Her fingers flexed like she was already imagining the next eerie ritual. “Candles, chanting... sometimes the lights flicker, but that just adds to the vibe, you know?”

You crossed your arms, studying her carefully. “Do... other people actually join this club?”

Her face lit up with genuine pride. “We have seven members right now. Quality over quantity!” she said quickly, then added, “But honestly, you seem... different. ” Her eyes narrowed slightly, appraising you like she was looking through your skin, searching for something only she could see.

You simply stared into her dark eyes, giving her absolutely nothing to work with. Of course you'd be roomed with an absolute fucking weirdo. Sure you were weird in your own way, but there were such things called boundaries.

“I’ll... think about it,” you said cautiously, already wondering if avoiding this so-called Supernatural Society would be impossible.

Izumi grinned, satisfied. “Good.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you had just agreed to—or what you might’ve gotten yourself into.

After stuffing the last of your clothes into the dresser’s creaky drawers, you let out a weary sigh. Unpacking felt like peeling off a layer of tension, though the strange energy radiating from your roommate, Izumi, never wavered.

Before you could even react, she leapt from her bed. “Alright, enough stalling—we’re going to the university fair.”

“I just unpacked—”

She seized your wrist like an impatient spectre. “No excuses. You’re new. We must stake our claim.” The university quad buzzed with chaotic energy. Booths stretched endlessly in uneven rows, each fighting for attention with blaring music, glittering decorations, and too-loud voices. Flyers fluttered in the breeze, sticking to shoes and swirling like confetti from hell.

A sorority girl with a blinding white smile and neon-pink crop top waved pompoms aggressively from atop a decorated table. “ Join Delta Zeta! ” she screamed, voice sharp enough to pierce metal.

Absolutely fucking not, you thought.

“They reek of fake tan and desperation,” Izumi muttered, sneering.

Students in Greek-letter hoodies patrolled like predators on the hunt. A blonde guy with long hair and a wild grin leaned lazily against a booth marked Sigma Omega Omicron . His sharp blue eyes sparkled with something both inviting and dangerous.

Next to him, a tall, muscular white-haired guy with tattoos covering his arms barked crudely at passers-by. “Oi, you scared of fun or just allergic to living?!” he roared, throwing his arms wide.

The blonde snickered. “Bet you couldn’t handle one party, princess. ”

You halted mid-step, spinning on your heel with a snarky smile. “You’d be surprised.”

His smirk faltered for a split second before returning with twice the arrogance. “ Feisty. I like that.”

Izumi yanked your arm. “Don’t engage with the delinquents.”

“Typical SOO trash,” she hissed, her chopped hair moving briskly as she shook her head. “Don’t even look at them.” Hidan hissed back at her, earning him a quick middle finger. The Sigma Omega Omicron booth radiated chaotic energy, surrounded by a growing crowd of curious onlookers and reluctant recruits. More members emerged like predators circling prey: a tall, muscular guy with piercings and a stitched-together leather jacket—Kisame (Events Coordinator)—stood intimidatingly close to the table, cracking his knuckles for emphasis causing you to roll your eyes.

Behind the table, a lean, pale-skinned man with sharp features and onyx eyes meticulously shuffled through forms like he was managing a hostile takeover rather than a booth for a frat. His nametag read Itachi (Secretary).

The silver-haired man that had been shouting at freshmen plopped himself down, flicking a lighter repeatedly while balancing precariously on a folding chair. His shirt read “Repent Later.” His nametag: Hidan (Social Chair).

Deidara’s name was written dramatically with the role underneath it being smudged to the point you couldn’t read it, the long-haired blonde who had made an ugly pass at you, gestured grandly toward the banner with spray-paint streaks declaring “JOIN SIGMA OMEGA – WE MAKE HISTORY” in bold, messy letters. “Come on, cowards! Live a little!”

“Or don’t,” Hidan added with a wicked grin. “We’re still better than you.”

Izumi muttered darkly, pulling you further away. “They’re like feral dogs in overpriced boots.” Her gaze lingering a little too long on the dark-haired man whose name tag proclaimed him as Itachi.

You couldn’t help but glance back as the crowd erupted into another round of laughter and taunts. What the actual fuck kind of university is this?

Nearby, other booths clamoured for attention: the Literature Society displayed old typewriters under a poetic sign reading “Write Your Own Destiny.” The Astronomy Club had a telescope pointed skyward, even though it was broad daylight. Someone dressed as a medieval knight swung a foam sword near the Historical Reenactment Society booth.

As you wove through the crowd, the atmosphere shifted. Loud music and hooting laughter blasted ahead. A massive banner with electric-blue letters read “DELTA OMEGA STORM - TONIGHT’S ONLY DESTINATION!”

A makeshift DJ booth blared a pounding beat while the group of men at the Delta Omega Storm booth worked the crowd like seasoned pros. Their energy was magnetic, chaotic, and absolutely ridiculous.

A broad-shouldered guy with wild brown hair barked out, “Free drinks for the hot girls, no one else need apply ! ” His sharp-toothed grin gleamed like a warning. His name tag, slapped crookedly across his chest, read: Kiba (Social Chair).

Next to him, a tall guy with long, dark hair and piercing eyes surveyed the crowd with detached coolness, his lean build and folded arms making him seem untouchable.

Another with a varsity jacket and messy blonde hair clapped an unsuspecting freshman on the back. “Delta party tonight ! ” he shouted with cocky ease. “Best night of your life, guaranteed! ” His name tag was peeling at the edges though you could make out his name was Naruto.

Near the booth’s edge, a stoic redhead in a dark hoodie stood like a silent sentinel, his intense gaze sweeping the crowd as though assessing threats—or targets.

A sharp-dressed man with cold, pale eyes stood off to the side, arms crossed as though enduring the chaos for some calculated reason. His posture radiated authority though he looked like he’d rather be running an investment portfolio rather than standing next to a neon party banner.

A quiet figure with round, dark glasses adjusted a flyer display with surgical precision, every motion deliberate and efficient. His intense focus suggested he took his recruitment duties far more seriously than his companions. 

Finally, a lanky, bored-looking guy with a perpetual slouch fiddled with a pen, twirling it in fluid, lazy motions. His eyes were half-lidded, giving the impression that existence itself was exhausting. His name tag, stuck on upside down, was impossible to read from the distance you were at.

“Don’t come if you’re gonna be boring ,” he added flatly, drawing easy laughter from nearby girls.

You snorted. The sheer absurdity of their roles being listed so formally on these cheap paper name tags was almost comical. This wasn’t a university fare—it was an overly elaborate invitation to debauchery.

“Want to check it out?” you asked Izumi, half-joking.

She snorted. “ Them? They’re not as bad as SOO... but still... reckless. ”

You smiled faintly. Reckless��sounded exactly like what you needed or else you’d bore yourself doing art alone in your room all year– a nightmare in itself, especially seeing your roommate.

Without another word, you shrugged off Izumi’s warning. What the hell . Your so-called fresh start was already spiralling into chaos; you might as well lean into it, just like you did before at your old university, for better or worse.

Izumi sighed in clear disappointment, folding her arms. “I’ll see you later, then. If you have time, you should check out the Supernatural Society booth.”

You barely held back a scoff. “Sure.” Like fuck you were spending another second with her and her cursed objects collection. You’d rather eat glass.

She shot you a long, knowing look before disappearing into the crowd, her dark hair swinging sharply with each step.

You strode confidently toward the Delta Omega Storm booth, shoulders back, chin high. Caution was something you’d never had when making shit decisions.

As you approached, the wild-haired guy—Kiba, according to his name tag—locked onto you with the sharp intensity of a predator sizing up potential prey. His posture shifted, straightening just enough to exude aggressive confidence.

He tilted his head, brazenly dragging his eyes over you like he was inspecting goods at a dodgy market. “You here to actually party, or just look pretty and waste my time?”

The audacity hit you like a slap. Before you could stop yourself, you fired back, “Depends. Are the drinks cold, or are you serving frat-boy delusions on tap?”

His mouth twisted into something between amusement and challenge. “Alright. We could definitely use more of that tonight.”

Behind him, the tall, dark-haired guy—Sasuke, his name tag read—let out a quiet, derisive snort. His sharp, unreadable gaze met yours for a fleeting second before shifting back to the crowd. His lean frame radiated disdain, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes.

“Name?” Kiba asked, already snatching up a flyer from the cluttered stack on the table.

“Y/N.”

His grin widened into something feral. “Y/N, you just earned VIP. Don’t disappoint.” He thrust a glossy, neon-bright invitation into your hand.

You smirked despite yourself. Being reckless was in your nature.

“Hey! You over there!”

Startled, you glanced up to see a sleekly decorated sorority booth positioned directly opposite Delta Omega Storm’s chaotic display. A large pastel-pink banner read Alpha Kappa Blossom (AKB) in elegant cursive. The whole setup was polished, sophisticated, and surprisingly modern—no neon-orange spray-tan disasters in sight.

Finally, some fucking normalcy, much more to my taste.

A tall, striking blonde with piercing blue eyes waved you over, her bright smile practically sparkling under the afternoon sun. Her nametag read “ Ino - Vice President. ” She rested a manicured hand on her hip, her sleek ponytail gleaming like something out of a haircare commercial.

“You look like you belong over here! ” Ino called enthusiastically, gesturing toward the booth’s carefully arranged display of glossy sorority brochures and immaculate floral arrangements.

You hesitated but found yourself walking toward her anyway. After surviving the testosterone-fuelled circus of Delta Omega Storm, this felt... refreshingly normal - she reminded you of your old friends, when things were good between you all at least.

“Welcome to Alpha Kappa Blossom!” Ino beamed, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Ino, Recruitment Chair. You’ve got great energy—I can tell already.”

Her confidence was magnetic but not overbearing. The women stationed around the booth radiated similar charisma—polished, stylish, but undeniably sharp.

You caught glimpses of other girls chatting with prospective members: a dark-haired woman with striking lavender eyes organizing pamphlets with precise care, a tall, athletic brunette adjusting a trophy display, and a petite, pink-haired woman enthusiastically leading a group of freshmen on a booth tour.

You shook Ino’s hand firmly. “Y/N.”

Her smile widened. “Y/N. Love that. Ever considered going Greek?” She tilted her head, studying your expression like she could read between the lines.

You shrugged casually, knowing not to say much. “I was in a sorority at my last university.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of the booth’s sign.  “Then you already know how it works! We’re throwing a welcome event tonight—you should definitely come.”

You glanced back toward Delta Omega Storm’s loud, chaotic booth where Kiba was now howling towards a freshman girl something about “body shots.” The contrast was almost laughable.

God, anything’s better than getting stuck with that creepy roommate. You’d sooner dive headfirst into Delta’s questionable pool than spend another evening hearing about manifestation.

“Alright,” you said, flashing a faint smirk. “I’m in.”

“By the way,” you asked smoothly, “do you guys plan to hit the Delta Omega party later?”

Ino’s grin widened knowingly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Totally. After the welcome event, of course. They’re our brother fraternity.” She rested a hand on her hip, radiating effortless confidence.

The dark-haired woman with lavender eyes—whose name tag read Hinata - New Member Educator —approached with a warm, genuine smile that softened her otherwise regal demeanor. “You should come. The parties are... energetic.” Her soft voice carried a hint of amusement, as though she knew far more than she let on. You found it incredibly useful that everyone on these booths were wearing name tags.

Before you could respond, the athletic brunette— Tenten - Event Planner —laughed as she tossed a stack of brochures onto the table, her toned arms flexing slightly. “Delta Omega’s parties are legendary. Just... watch out for Kiba. He thinks he’s charming.” She rolled her eyes affectionately, clearly accustomed to his antics.

You smirked, shifting your weight casually. “Yeah, I met him. Total salesman.”

The pink-haired girl— Sakura - President —returned, practically buzzing with excitement, her energy palpable even in the chaotic fair setting. “You’re definitely coming, right?” Her green eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she handed you a neatly folded invite printed with shimmering gold letters.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said smoothly, already feeling more at home.

Ino clapped her hands together with satisfaction. "Perfect. You’ll fit in here just fine." Her tone was confident, almost like she’d already claimed you for the sorority.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she tilted her head. "So you said something about an old university... are you a freshman?"

"Second-year," you replied casually. "Art major. Transfer student."

Ino’s interest visibly deepened. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was about to uncover the juiciest piece of gossip. "Ooh, transfer? Why’d you switch schools?"

You smirked, savoring the slight tension hanging in the air. "Maybe after a few shots, I’ll tell you."

Ino gasped playfully, pressing a hand to her chest like you’d just issued the ultimate challenge. "I’m holding you to that, if I remember to ask."

As the conversation continued, the sorority girls began filling you in on the night’s itinerary. “We’re hosting a pre-party mixer at our house first,” Tenten explained while rearranging some event flyers with efficient precision. “It’s less... chaotic than Delta’s. But after? We’ll head over together.”

“Think of it as... maintaining balance,” Sakura added with a wry smirk. “A little elegance before absolute madness.”

Hinata nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And it’s tradition to arrive together. It keeps things... coordinated. We do everything with our brother fraternity.”

Coordinated, you thought, amused. They operated like a well-oiled machine, blending genuine friendship with the sharp calculation of practiced social navigators.

Ino leaned in conspiratorially. “Also... word of advice? Don’t let Naruto talk you into any drinking contests.” Her smile turned wicked. “He’s undefeated, and you will regret it.”

Sakura snorted. “He lives for that dumb King of Shots title.”

Tenten chimed in with mock seriousness. “And if you hear someone yelling about ‘legendary feats’—just walk away.”

Your eyebrow twitched upwards in wonderment of whatever the fuck that could even mean. You laughed, imagining the chaos already. “Good to know.”

As you lingered by the booth, you couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they interacted—not just with you, but with each other. They weren’t playing a role or putting on an act. This was their world: stylish, commanding, and irresistibly magnetic.

“See you tonight,” Ino said with a playful wink, waving as she moved on to greet another curious student.

You slipped the invitation into your bag, feeling the spark of anticipation ignite in your chest.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

AO3 LINK so you don't have to scroll :)

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabi & shouto bonding + dabihawks, fluff

It's almost noon when Touya comes shuffling into the living room he shared with his boyfriend, PJ pants hanging low on his hips, no shirt in sight.

"Well, good mo-, no wait, good midday to me, handsome," Keigo quipped with a grin and Touya rolled his eyes.

Yeah, yeah, I'm a lazy bum, I know I know," Touya replied with a yawn and a stretch.

"We can't all just call home office and lunge around in sweats all day and call it work, yanno," he added and Keigo laughed.

"So staying up until 3 am gaming with Spinner and Tenko counts as work, now?" the hero asked with a sly smirk, and Touya sighed.

"I need a shirt for this conversation, and either their all in the wash or you stole some again, and I think we all know which one is true."

Keigo raised his eyebrows at that.

"I haven't taken any more than you've given me, I swear!" he said with hands raised in surrender, and Touya sighed dramatically.

"Well, what am I supposed to wear then?"

-

Listen, Touya loves Keigo.

Everything about him, actually.

Except for the fact that, ever since the war ended and the hero was allowed to develop his own style, that style turned out to be a mix between cottage core lesbian and confused grandpa.

Actually Touya didn't mind it when the clothes were on Keigo, he actually kinda loved it.

But while Keigo looked ridiculously hot in Touya's band shirts and big hoodies, Touya didn't quite have that same luxury.

So, there he sat, in a crowded coffee shop, a busy afternoon, out in public, with his white hair, scarred skin, piercings, tattoos, ripped black skinny jeans and... a very eclectically colored cardigan Touya suspected Keigo had dug out of a thrift store that should have been closed decades ago.

Yeah, fuck his life.

Just as the former villain pulled the bucket hat he had also borrowed from his boyfriend further down on his head in a vain attempt to hide he noticed the person he was here to meet come in trough the door.

"Shouto," Touya said out loud, raiding his hand to grab his brothers attention.

His dork of a younger brother smiled, as brightly as he ever did, and moved over to Touya quickly.

"Nii-san!" The young hero greeted and Touya huffed.

"Yeah yeah, sit down ya dork, I ordered you your..."

Touya's voice trailed off as Shouto took off his jacket.

"Todoroki Shouto, are you wearing my fucking shirt?!"

Shouto looked up at him with a hint of surprise on his face as he looked down on himself , before he nodded.

"Yes, it appears that I am," he said simply before happily taking a sip of his bubble tea.

Touya just stared at him.

"Why?" he finally asked as Shouto didn't elaborate.

Shouto took his time enjoying his tea before he answered.

"It's like a hand-over, it's normal for brothers to do, you know?" he replied with a shrug.

Touya blinked a few times trying to catch up.

"A hand... over?" he finally asked, trying his best to wrap his head around this.

He decided this was a bucket hat off situation, and just as he placed the hat down, Shouto picked ip back up and put in on his head.

"Like this, see?" the young hero said as if that answered all the questions.

Touya just stared back and Shouto sighed.

"Iida said he used to get his older brothers stuff all the time, Nii-san, I really think you're making too much out of this."

Oh.

Oh, god.

This poor, clueless, sweet bastard.

"You're talking about hand-me-downs, aren't you?" Touya finally asked, and Shouto nodded.

"Yes, that was the phrase."

Touya bit his lip, trying to figure out how to go about this without being too mean.

Look at him, all reformed and shit.

"Look Sho, I get that we have a lot of catching up to do, but if you want my stuff as hand-me-downs or whatever it'd be great if you asked first, okay?" Touya explained.

Shouto hummed.

"I must have misunderstood the tradition then, I apologize."

Touya huffed.

"It's okay, kid," he said with a small smile, and Shouto smiled back, before his gaze fell to the cardigan Touya was wearing and his brown furrowed.

"You can keep that one, though," Shouto said seriously, and Touya couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Yeah, I don't judge ya there, kid," he replied with a grin.

Before they parted ways a few hours later Touya quickly snapped a picture of Shouto in the bucket hat to send to Keigo with a warning that he'd probably never seen that hat again.

It was handed down now, after all.

[amywritesthings]

I love the Hallo-sleepover idea! Can I request "my friend abandoned me at this halloween party and I don't know anyone. But you look as miserable as I feel" at a bonfire with Levi (:

hallo-sleepover '24!

of course!! this was the most requested prompt in 5 separate asks, so of course i wanted to present you a little levi on halloween day. xo hope you enjoy!

homemade.

pairing: levi ackerman x reader word count: 1.2k tags: modern au, adult language, halloween parties, first meet, levi ackerman as ghostface, reader as bride of frankenstein, mention of annie as your friend credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

read on ao3.

Everyone’s too loud. The Halloween music keeps repeating.

Not even swirling the bright orange plastic cup in your hand can salvage the separation of pineapple and white rum.

At least the warm crackle of the open fire pit in the backyard feels nice.

You’re not sure why you agreed to come to this Halloween party with Annie — you knew she was going to see one solo cup and run for the pong table to demolish the competition — but you’d worked tirelessly on your costume this year.

Not that you had anywhere to go to show it off — cons got too expensive this year, work days blurred into nights, and before you knew it the date of October 31 was sitting impatiently on your doorstep. 

Waiting on your front porch handing out candy to little ones wasn’t a bad idea.

Trick or Treaters are cute.

(Except you can’t imagine any of the kiddos willingly taking a Snickers bar from the hands of a screen-accurate rendition of the Bride of Frankenstein.)

So you'd get dressed up, fill a pumpkin bucket, and hang out for the night, right?

Wrong.

That plan wasn’t acceptable to your friend, Annie Leonhart.

The moment she arrived at your doorstep in full costume, Annie acted as if staying home was a cardinal sin.

“You didn’t have a plan for this?” Annie asked incredulously. “Are you joking, dude? Come on. This costume is sick.”

Before you stood an elaborate (see: terrifying) rendition of Lady Death: Annie’s blue eyes were sunken in by copious black eyeshadow, her lips cut into the illusion of teeth under a terrifying black veil obscuring most of her face. On her body was what looked to be a dyed thrift store wedding dress, dark as the night sky above.

She gestures to your wrapped mummified dress and large cylindrical white-and-gray wig — all hand-sewn, all homemade — with equally blackened fingertips, gooey with fake blood.

“What?” you murmur, looking down at your dress like something has gone astray.

“What?!” she repeats with a snort. “Oh, no. You’re not wasting this on sitting on a porch. C’mon, we’re going to Reiner’s thing.”

“Annie,” you groan, giving her a pleading look. “You know I hate parties.”

“Yeah? And I hate idiots who waste good costumes,” she retorts, grabbing your hand with hers to fly into your house. “What do you need? Grab your keys and phone, we’re going.”

(Yeah, you’re used to her bulldozing by now.)

It’s what brought you here — stuck at a bonfire, waiting for an appropriate time to ditch and call a Lyft back to your house.

Annie’s no doubt in the semifinals of the competition, so you can’t imagine you’ll see her for the rest of the night.

It’s fine.

It’s fine, you’ll just wait another ten and—

A flash of black clothes shuffles past you to flop unceremoniously into a lawn chair. With a grunt, their legs extend towards the bonfire, the tip of their boots tapping the brick surrounding the pit. 

Slumping into the chair, you recognize the costume right away: it isn’t a traditional Ghostface given the dark denim jeans and the black henley shirt with rolled-up sleeves, but the elongated white and black ghoulish mask is unmistakable.

Unable to help yourself, you watch as the fire illuminates the veins in their forearms. His gloved hand palms the entire mask and rips it off of his face, causing your whole body to have a hot flash.

Oh.

Oh, no.

The Ghostface at the party is hot.

Immediately his bluish-gray eyes find you when he sits back in his chair once more. The black fringe of his hair clings to his forehead like the mask had been suffocating him to a sweat, complimenting his high cheekbones. 

Lips parted, you note the way he gives your costume a once over before speaking in the most rumbled, honey silk voice.

“Bride of Frank, right?”

Blinking twice, you continue to stare. When a few beats of silence pass, the stranger’s chin drops closer to his chest, brow expectant with an arch.

“You’re looking at me like I missed a reboot this year.”

Wait.

He’s talking to you.

Clearing your throat, you sit up taller and absently reach for your tall wig to make sure it’s in place. 

“No, you’re right. The Bride from the 1935 film.” 

You try to smile, though it gets lost somewhere in your anxiety. 

“And you’re Ghostface, right? From the movie Scream?”

The stranger nods. 

“Sort of. Found a mask half-off at the store, but I wasn’t wearing a damn nightgown.”

“The black clothes still fit the look,” you try to reassure, and he snorts.

“You’re far more forgiving than the Michael Myers I came here with,” he states, “but that friend abandoned my ass at this Halloween party, and I don’t know anyone else here, so.”

Crossing his legs by the ankles and his arms over his chest, he continues to observe your costume. From the flicker of the fire, his expression almost seems appreciative of your work.

“You did a damn good job,” he adds, “which is a shame, because you look as miserable as I feel.”

The surprise praise causes your face to heat up.

“I wouldn’t say miserable.”

“Bored?”

“Oh, definitely bored.”

He snorts. “Yeah, me too. I hate this shit.”

“Parties?”

“Halloween parties,” the stranger clarifies. “If everyone showed up to this shit dressed as elaborately as you, then I’d probably eat my own words.” He tosses a thumb back to the house. “I can’t tell you how many goddamn half-baked Jokers there are in that house.”

Somewhere in the midst of his rant is another compliment.

Toying with one of the ends of the mummified dress you wear, you find yourself shrugging a shoulder. “Not everyone has busybody time like me to make a costume, to be fair.”

“Wait.” He sits up more, sitting the Ghostface mask on his lap. “You made that?”

When you nod, you feel your body match the bonfire’s temperature. Annie gave you compliments by the plenty, but that was Annie. Everyone else at this party had been too busy getting drunk or too occupied to notice.

But he did.

“How’d you do it?” he asks with what seems to be genuine curiosity, though you wave it off.

“It’s boring.”

“Doubt it.”

“No, it really is,” you state, but the stranger leans closer with intrigue. You can’t move away, too mesmerized by how damn gorgeous he is. “And knowing me, I could ramble on for hours, so—”

“Hey, I have time.”

The man clears his throat and holds up the Ghostface mask as if it’ll somehow convince you.

“Might as well make the most of this damn thing while we’re stuck here, right? If anything, you’d be saving me from another goddamn Scary Movie reference inside, so you're doing me a favor by rambling for hours.”

The mention brings a slow and relaxed smile to your lips.

Right.

The ye ol’ wasssssaaaaaap to anyone with a Ghostface mask.

“Fine,” you relent, and you swear your mind is playing tricks on you when it sees a half-smile form on his own face, but the fire swipes it away just as fast. “But at least tell me your name — unless you want me to call you Ghostface.”

The man shakes his head, the fringe of his black hair following with him.

“Levi,” he introduces, softer this time. “Just call me Levi.”

[strawbby-shortcake]

Dating Tyler Durden! ♡︎

Tyler isn't one to wait around with his feelings, so he's very open and honest when it comes to you. He knew what he wanted, so he went to get it.

Honestly though, he doesn't take rejection well. So if you refused him the first time, you'll have to do it again and again until you give in. He'll display grand gestures to prove that he's the man for you.

If you didn't refuse, great! You're now with an anti-capitalist that kicks ass!!! He's not so bad once you get used to him though.

Tyler is a mix between talking a lot and not talking at all. He likes to talk to you about society and how he's going to change it for the better because you actually listen to him.

When he goes quiet, it usually means his mind is at work or he's focused on a task at hand. That doesn't mean he wants you to leave him alone though. He would rather you be by his side while he's planning.

When he starts Fight Club, you're the first one to know. He makes you promise three times that you won't say anything about it to anyone.

You are NOT allowed to fight, but you can watch him beat people up or tell them that they are "not their fucking khakis."

If you really wanted to fight though, Tyler would only allow you to fight him. Of course, he wouldn't hurt you or anything, but he'll get to see how strong you are.

Every member of Fight Club/Project Mayhem is super kind to you and often steals you things from stores. Whether it's because Tyler told them to do it, or they just wanted to, you didn't know.

For example, one day you were out with Tyler and a few of his space monkeys, and they noticed that you were staring at an item from one of the store's windows.

We all know how Tyler feels about consumerism, BUT he makes an exception for you. Plus, it's not like they're going to pay for it *hint hint*

The next morning, you wake up and see the item placed on your bed with a sticky note that has smiley face on it.

You often hear Tyler yelling at the members, but he never yells at you. He's quite respectful towards you.

Tyler takes you with him to all his odd jobs. You help him splice frames of explicit images into family films. When he has to work as a waiter, he seats you at a table and brings all the clean food you want. He gets distracted by you though and goes to your table far more than the actual customer's tables.

HE MAKES AND HE SELLS SOAPPPP!!! So that means you get to help him out and watch! Be prepared for late night liposuction clinic dumpster runs.

The first time you went with him, you threw up because of the smell. Tyler forced himself to throw up too so you didn't feel embarrassed.

If you have a complaint about anyone or someone is bothering you, there'll be a missing person report on the news within the same week. Tyler does not mess around.

Tyler doesn't force you to smoke, and if you don't like the smell of it, he doesn't smoke around you. In fact, if you really wanted him to, he would attempt to quit. It would be near impossible for him though, but you gotta give him credit!

He loves going into alleyways, hotels, or apartment buildings to dance with you. He doesn't care if anyone is watching. He'll probably have several of the guys to keep watch near the building though, just for safety reasons!

He likes to go thrifting with you. He will pick the most non-matching shirt, jacket, and pants and do a whole fashion show in the store and then walk out with it on. No, he didn't pay. He might borrow your clothes too if he sees something he likes.

Smashing cars around town at midnight? Check. Going to Lou's Tavern multiple days a week? Check.

He'll ask you to play with his hair all the time. He loves it when you do because it relieves tension and makes him sink into the floor.

CUTE EXTRAS:

Makes you special bars of soap with your name on it in different colors.

You get to try on all his cool glasses that he owns.

You'll always be protected no matter where you go.

He's extra cautious when he's out since he doesn't want to die without coming home to you. He could be bleeding out or have a limb ripped off, but he'll manage to come home to Paper Street just to see you one last time. But don't expect that because he's not going to die any time soon.

He shares his gum with you.

He's a great listener when you need him to be.

If you tend to his wounds or scold him when he gets hurt, he doesn't complain. He just sits there, grins, and leans in, knowing you'll kiss him afterwards.

He doesn't say "I love you" super often, but when he does, it's genuine.

Teaches you all about glycerin and the wonders you can do with it.

[seawardboundsammy]

after many months of work, I reveal my magnum opus. The Sidestep Battlejacket.

pov: ortega seeing sidestep whole for the last time

Holy shit! It's finished!!!

This was my final for my costume design class and it took. so long. Weighing in around 800 pounds in faux leather and spikes, this is by far the most polished and focused battle jacket I've ever made. also noting that typically i wear big glasses! i just had to show off sidestep's eyebags (my hair is always teal though! ult fave color). The prop gun is a nerf gun covered in so much paint.

This design is based off my sidestep Arbor's suit combined with the dog themes sidestep has (eg: bite the hand). More thoughts and wips under the cut!

So this jacket has actually existed in some form since 2020. I bought this leather jacket with the intention of covering it in studs and spikes and then i petered out half way through. Then, after sitting in my closet for 4 years, i finally started back up on it.

These images were my gospel through the project. The design on the left was made a while before and then you can see in real time how i developed my ideas. I had the idea of the front side being "sidestep" and then the back side with the teeth being "retribution/vsona". like a mullet of trauma. the gun was made to match the organic flowing designs of the jacket, to fit the arboreal theme.

the painting of the teeth was a painstaking process filled with much masking tape and clean up. the arm stripes were free handed in a mad dash to the finish. I used Angelus Leather Paints (which i bought WAY too much of, a little goes miles also its so good not sponsored its just good paint) and every section got two coats of white and two coats of teal. The only exception was the orange which is much more transparent which took more coats and hand cramping with those letters. (which btw! no stencil! just moving my brush around all silly style).

i really wanted a prop to make the jacket into something that actually feel like a cosplay, so i hunted down the most sci-blaster nerf gun i could find on amazon and threw gallons of paint at it. the experienced among you may note that nothing wants to stick to that smooth of plastic, but with a solid sanding and angelus acrylic hardener i made it work. originally there were more stripes but it looked busy. there were also going to be two charms for charge and anathema but i um. forgor.

unsanded vs sanded (and some acetone to remove paint) vs final

the hood! good god that hood. that was ripped off an old hoodie and then i found a shirt at a thrift store that just happened to match the color perfectly. its. attached. if you know anything about sewing, please look away from this evil seam. the purple is just to keep it from fraying btw, the actual connection to the jacket it with a much thinner thread in big stitches as to not weaken the faux leather too much. also you can see where i was testing the paint lol.

if you read to here, thank you!! im so proud of this thing and i cant wait to wear it everywhere (when the weather allows.) have a sleepy steppy as a treat for sticking around

[jjeongddol]

I'm home, my love.

Now playing - screen time

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jeonghan x reader

— "how could i possibly find someone else, when all you've done was love me right?" he could still see the spark and love in your eyes except, they were buried behind the glassy tears that were building up again at the brim of your eyes. it made your orbs look shinier than ever.

tagged: @nihyunluvskookie @hanicore @seaweedsoop

part I | jeonghan's pov | part II

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It was 6:48pm, you're finally done with a yet another exhausting day at work. Ah, finally. The comfort of your own bed.

A heavy sigh left your lips as your back was met with the soft, silky comforter. Hair still wet from the shower, finally changed into your comfiest clothes—basketball shorts with that one white shirt that reeks the smell of Jeonghan.

It's been exactly a month since your drunken confession to your boyfriend. nothing's changed. He still leaves before you're awake—you can hear the rustle and his quiet footsteps as he paces around to get ready, trying to make the littlest amount of noise. ensuring not to leave before giving you a quick kiss on your forehead or shoulder as he rubs your arm soothingly—and reaches home after you head to bed. It's like a routine now—one that you'll never get used to.

You tried pushing down the negativity that has been clouding your mind. You're stubborn—why aren't you leaving him yet? You asked yourself the same question every day. Yet, here you are. still anticipating greetings in his presence.

Every corner of the apartment was awfully quiet. His side of the bed had been immensely cold. your fingers swiftly gliding across the vacant space. 

After a long day, there was no comfort in this well-filled space. All because this isn't your home; it was just a house you lived in.

Where could he possibly be?

It's starting to get to you that maybe, just maybe, Jeonghan was really over you. over all the things you had done together—to all the many firsts, anniversaries, lego dates—just anything you could possibly think of.

I'll give him one last week...

ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ

Pushing yourself off your shared bed, you moved towards the sleek chrome vanity that your boyfriend was able to find at the thrift store when you both first moved into this apartment.

Living with Jeonghan has been easy. You both have almost the same hobbies and interests, which allowed living together to be comfortable—something you were most worried about when he proposed for the two of you to live under the same roof.

Sure, you'd bicker all the time. How can you not when your partner is a literal menace? But you could never recall having big arguments. Jeonghan had always been soft with you. Even when you're having an argument and the pent-up anger is evident, he'll gently reach out for your hand to calm you down. Jeonghan always admires your beauty and cherishes your presence and company throughout the years you have spent together.

"I might seriously go crazy if we're not married and growing old together," he chuckled as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

Sigh, what a sweet memory.

Bringing yourself out of your thoughts, you picked up a pan to get together a small meal before heading to bed. rinsing off the pans as well as your hand, moving towards the cupboards to gather your ingredients. making sure you weren't cooking a portion for two.

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click *the tune of your keypad pierced through your apartment*

Who could it be? There's only a few people who know the password to your home—your family, his family, and obviously Jeonghan—but it's unlikely for any of them to visit or be home at this time.

And there, he stood.

It took you a second to realise that he was home. But at this hour? You could feel yourself frowning at his sudden appearance.

Grounded as you take in the realisation that he was back home. "Are you okay? Did you forget something?" you questioned, eyes laced with concern.

Your eyes were locked with his, and your mind was frantically trying to figure him out. Breath hitching as you study him. Oh, how bitter it was for you to feel this way, but that wasn't your Hannie. The man standing feet away felt like a stranger.

Your hannie was bright and cheerful, even when he was drained out physically. Your Hannie would approach you with open arms and drop whatever was in his hands just to be within your embrace. Your Hannie didn't look as solemn even when he had lost his little pet rock.

This wasn't the Jeonghan you knew and loved. This is the Jeonghan you couldn't recognise. The one you felt so emotionally detached from, the one you've tried so hard to reach out to but failed.

Where did my hannie go?

ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤㅤ

The silence was deafening. Your thoughts were so loud that you think Jeonghan could hear them screaming. Your eyes faltered to the ground as your lips formed a little pout. Oh boy, you knew this was going to be hell to calm yourself down.

Unintentionally, a loud sob slipped past your quivering lips as you choked on your tears. And with that, Jeonghan took big strides to have you in his arms.

Arms securely holding up your trembling figure as the other found its way through you damp hair. Pressing you up against his heaving chest. His own painful sobs escapes his lips melodically above your head, fingers lightly rubbing along your spine.

It hurt him to hear your cries and watch you crumble because of him. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry for leaving you confused like that," He coos at you, leaving a longing kiss on the top of your head as he gently swung your bodies.

"You must've been scared. I'm sorry, little one"

ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤㅤ

Jeonghan's words were only turning your sobs into wails. hands hitting weakly on his chest, mumbling your pent-up rants towards him.

Where have you been?

I don't even know how you've been?

Do you know how worried I am?

Was it easy for you to leave me like that?

I thought- I- I thought I lost my person.

Jeonghan's cold hands gently cupped your heated cheeks, placing butterfly kisses all over your face which managed to stop your rambling. Your eyes fell shut as you felt his plump lips against your glistening cheeks.

One on the left, and another on the right. On the crown of your forehead and the gentlest one on the bridge of your nose.

Resting his forehead against yours as, yet again, another heartbreaking sob escapes his mouth. You willed yourself to open your eyes, to be met with his reddened ones staring back into your glistening, puffy eyes.

ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ₊˚ ⋆ㅤ۫ ㅤㅤ

"I love you, baby. I really do. I was overwhelmed by the thought of us," taking in a gulp of air as he continues. "I've never been so comfortable with anyone like I have been with you. I'm aware that dating someone like me isn't easy. With my never-ending practices and even tours for months, I'm afraid you'll give up on me soon and find a new person."

He sounded so wrecked over you. Your ugly cries have not died down. Hearing his last sentence made your hands shoot up; now you're the one cradling his face.

"Yoon Jeonghan," you paused as you waited for him to look at you again. Fingers gently wiping away his tear streaks. "How could I possibly find someone else when all you've done was love me right?" He could still see the spark and love in your eyes except, they were buried behind the glassy tears that were welling up again at the brim of your eyes.

How your gaze became warmer than before.

"Stay with me, y/n," he murmured under the soft glow of the sunset streak. In that tender moment, he uttered promises of forever, resounding in your ears as your lips met in a delicate, soul-stirring kiss.

Your arms find their way around his neck as you deepen the kiss. Parting slightly to catch your breath as you stabilised your overwhelmed self. "I missed you. So, so much," you whispered, your voice filled with longing and love.

"You know, I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I signed myself up for this, Hannie. I'm not going to back down after I've spent years with you and your teasing ass," which brought a soft laugh out of you and your boyfriend.

After a long separation, your lips reunited in a tender, homecoming kiss. In that moment, time stood still, and the world around them faded away. It was always meant to be like this, leaving only their love and longing.