#i like throwing tomatoes at the dude

[familialtoad]

Renaissance festival is my favorite time of year!

[twpsyn-who]

I saw this cute edit of Scott McCall on TikTok and it wasn't until that edit, that very specific edit, that my mind FINALLY understood why I don't actually like Teen Wolf.

Is because Scott McCall is the protagonist avsbjsjsnd. Because he's that one innocent, can never do wrong, guy who tries to save everybody and never gives up. And Gosh I hate this kind of protagonist?? He's so Deku coded (or better said the other way around, I don't know which came first) and I didn't notice mostly because Scott isn't a crybaby too. But damn are they so fucking similar, like holy shit.

So, um, yeah. No hard feelings to the actor or anything like that. Is just that I hate characters like Scott with a passion.

[stellarosa]

one of you has to kill my boss please

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Make You Remember

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Make You Remember - Lazy Weekends

A/N: i’ve been in a writing slump this year, but every now and then, i’d come here to read. recently, a few pieces caught my attention and reignited my urge to write. so, here we are! while revisiting my 2018 spotify playlists for a dose of nostalgia, i stumbled upon one of my favorite songs from back then—it felt like the perfect way to ease back into writing. (a little shoutout to 2cool-2die, her stories were what got me back into writing). anyway, hope you all enjoy the story!

“Stop staring at her like a creep,” Minjeong whispered, her large eyes narrowing in a protective glare.

Jimin couldn’t help herself. She had been watching you for the past hour—watching the way you threw your head back in laughter at something your friends said or carefully picked the tomatoes off your sandwich to hand them off to someone else. Her fists clenched at the sight.

You used to pluck off tomatoes and feed them to her, letting her play your knight in shining armor against your sworn enemy: tomatoes. It should’ve been her.

Oh, how she missed that smile you used to reserve just for her.

“Dude, I’m serious,” Minjeong hissed again, this time throwing a balled-up tissue at Jimin’s face. “This is getting out of hand.”

Jimin grunted in annoyance, lazily stretching her long arms overhead before sprawling out on the metal bench. Her head landed on Aeri’s lap as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I can’t help it. I miss her,” she admitted quietly, closing her eyes as Aeri absentmindedly began combing through her soft raven-black hair with her fingers.

“Well, you should’ve done better,” NingNing said flatly, taking a deep drag from her Juul. “She really loved you, you know.”

The girls expected Jimin to snap back, as she always did. Instead, they watched her deflate entirely, burrowing her face into Aeri’s stomach for solace.

“I know.”

.

.

.

.

Jimin had always been sure of herself. She was proud of her decisions, every one of them. After all, she had transferred from one of the top universities in the UK to pursue her passion for dance in Korea—a choice that went against her parents’ wishes. They had warned her about the instability of a dance career, but she’d proved them wrong.

She had met Minjeong, Aeri, and NingNing shortly after her return, and together, they formed a dance group. Now in her third year of university, Jimin was part of AESPA, a group that had skyrocketed to fame after winning first place in a national competition.

With a growing fanbase, a promising future, and an upcoming performance in front of the president at the annual ceremony, Jimin had every reason to be proud of her choices.

Every reason—except for letting you go.

She had met you during her first year back in Korea. You were the university’s student ambassador, tasked with introducing new students to campus life. Since she was the only mid-semester transfer at the time, Jimin had the luck of spending the entire day with you, just the two of you.

You captivated her immediately. Your soft, angelic voice, dry sense of humor, and those big brown eyes that lit up with excitement over the smallest things…like the library. Jimin had thought you were the lamest, cutest little thing she’d ever met. And from that moment, she was hooked.

Jimin made it her mission to sweep you off your feet. Surprised but not surprised, you had plenty of admirers. You were popular, down-to-earth, and undeniably beautiful, the kind of person who effortlessly drew others in. That only made Jimin's task harder, pushing her to work tirelessly to win your heart.

To everyone else, you were the classy student ambassador, smart, athletic, and poised. But Jimin knew the truth: beneath all that polish, you were a total nerd. 

So, she went out of her way to prove how much she cared. She’d pick you up from class with your favorite snacks, even when her schedule was packed.

She once secretly drove across state lines to attend an anime expo, just to get you those rare Pokémon cards you’d been obsessing over…though she swore she lost at least a million cool points doing it. But every second was worth it when she saw your face light up. Jimin even sat through every Avengers movie, biting back sarcastic remarks just to see you smile. 

Before long, you were hers and she was yours. You found yourself snuggled into her arms during late-night movie marathons, or cheering from backstage as she started entering dance competitions.

You were her there to support when she doubted herself after losing a dance battle, always ready with a hug and soft kisses. You were AESPA's unofficial fifth member, helping them set up for street performances and cheering louder than anyone else when they won.

And when AESPA skyrocketed to fame, you stood faithfully by her side, despite the growing distance you felt creeping in. 

But fame did something to Jimin. Slowly, the girl who once drove hours for Pokémon cards began to lose sight of the things that mattered. You were the first to notice the changes. Jimin started craving the spotlight more than anything else, and you quietly faded into the shadows.

You stopped bringing up your hobbies after a fan on her livestream mocked you for being childish. You stopped asking her for late-night drives when her excuses became more frequent. And you stopped waiting for her to notice how tired you looked, how empty you felt. 

She didn’t notice when you began packing up your prized Pokémon collection, throwing it all away as if erasing a piece of yourself. She didn’t notice when you started leaving events early, hiding the hurt behind a polite smile. Jimin was so caught up in her world of adoration, flashing lights, and applause that she failed to see you slipping through her fingers. 

She didn’t notice until it was far too late. By the time she turned around, desperate to hold onto what was left, you were already gone. She had lost you. And in losing you, she lost the part of herself that had once felt complete.

.

.

.

.

“C’mon, Jimin. Get out of your head.” Jimin slapped her forehead in frustration as she stumbled through the routine once again.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor was followed by a collective groan from the rest of the girls, who collapsed onto the studio floor in exhaustion. AESPA was under pressure. They were supposed to perfect a dance routine for a massive ad collaboration, a career-defining moment. But with finals looming and the team juggling school and practice, their patience was wearing thin. 

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Jimin said quietly, glancing at her exhausted teammates sprawled on the floor.

Aeri’s pink hair stuck to her damp face, and Minjeong lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling like she’d lost her will to live. 

“It’s been three months, Jimin.” NingNing sighed, rubbing her temples. “When are you going to get over her? This isn’t like you.” 

“I’m trying,” Jimin muttered, her gaze locked on her scuffed sneakers, her throat tight with unshed tears. “But at the same time…I don’t want to.” 

“Well, what do you want, then?” Aeri asked, sitting up with a tired glare.

She was drained. She was tired of practice, of exams, and most of all, of watching her leader spiral into a deep abyss of self-hatred and regret in front of her. 

Jimin hesitated, her dark brows knitting together as if weighing the weight of her answer.

“I want her back,” she finally admitted. “I want Y/N back.” 

“Absolutely not,” Minjeong snapped, suddenly sitting up and joining the conversation. Her arms crossed, and her expression was livid. “You broke her, Jimin. You fucking broke her heart.” 

Jimin lowered her head, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders, but her she had already made this decision days ago. After finding one of your old LEGO pieces buried under her bed, a reminder of simpler, happier times, she had cradled it in her hands and cried like a baby.

That night, she spiraled into a social media stalking session, scrolling through your photos, searching for any trace of the love she had destroyed. That was when she decided she’d do whatever it took to make things right. 

“I’ll treat her right this time,” Jimin whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’ll do anything to make her happy.” 

Minjeong stood abruptly, storming over to Jimin, her smaller frame radiating fiery anger. Despite the height difference, Jimin instinctively cowered under Minjeong’s glare. 

“Do you know how many times she came to me crying in the middle of the night because you couldn’t even show up for a date? How insecure you made her feel? How your stupid fangirls tore her apart?” Minjeong jabbed a finger into Jimin’s chest with every accusation.

“She’s my best friend, Jimin. I won’t let you hurt her again. She gave you everything. She gave you so many chances, and you let her down every single time.” 

The room crackled with tension as Jimin’s lips parted to respond, but no words came out. Sensing a fight about to break out, NingNing and Aeri hurriedly stepped between the two girls. 

“Hey, now’s not the time to fight,” NingNing said gently, wrapping her arms around Minjeong’s shoulders to pull her back. “We all care about Y/N, okay? Let’s take a second.” 

“Please,” Jimin pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears rimmed her eyes, but there was an earnestness in her tone that softened her hardened edges.

“Just give me a chance. I swear I’ll never hurt her again.” 

“No. No fucking way,” Minjeong snapped, her voice firm. 

“How about we let Y/N decide herself?” Aeri suggested cautiously, flinching slightly under Minjeong’s searing glare.

“Jimin can talk to her. If she says no…then that’s it. Jimin walks away and never bothers her again.” 

The blonde hesitated. She knew how deeply you had loved Jimin and how much it had cost you when things fell apart. Letting Jimin reach out could undo all the progress you’d made. But at the same time…if she stopped this, would you resent her for it? 

With a heavy sigh, Minjeong finally relented. “Fine. Just one sentence. If she reacts badly to whatever you say, you stay the hell away from her. For good.” 

Jimin’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time in months, a smile full of hope, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“One sentence is more than enough to make her remember.”

.

.

.

.

They say the easiest way to someone's heart is through their stomach, so Jimin threw herself into her first mission with relentless determination. The five-hour drive to Busan and back didn’t faze her—this was for you. She needed to remind you of the small things, the little joys you used to share.

The memory of your trips together flooded her mind: your hand in hers, your voice belting off tune to whichever K-pop song was stuck in your head, and your infectious laughter filling the car. She prayed to the gods to hear that laugh again. 

By the time she returned to Seoul, the darkness of the night had already cloaked the streets. Armed with the pink box of macarons from your hometown bakery, Jimin’s heart raced with anticipation and dread. Aeri had passed along a tip (reluctantly overheard from Minjeong, who would never willingly disclose your whereabouts to Jimin) that you were working a shift at the local bistro. 

When Jimin walked into the cozy bistro, the soft chime of the bell drew attention from other patrons. Murmurs rippled through the room as people recognized her, AESPA’s leader, a rising star. But Jimin’s focus was on you. Only you. 

You stood behind the counter, your hair tied up in a messy bun, concentrated on preparing a tray of drinks. You weren’t as put-together as you are in school, with your crisp white shirt bearing faint creases, but to Jimin, you were as breathtaking as ever. 

She made her way to the counter, sitting directly in front of you. She waited, patient and quiet, as you prepared another Long Island, your tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I—” You froze mid-sentence as your eyes met hers.

Recognition flickered across your face, followed by a flash of pain. Your expression changed into something cold, guarded. 

“No.” Your tone was flat, final. “Please leave.” 

Jimin didn’t flinch. Her gaze softened, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Not yet, she only had one chance. All she knew was that seeing you here within an arms length, was enough to momentarily soothe the ache in her chest. 

As much as you tried to suppress it, your heart betrayed you, fluttering at the sight of her. Jimin looked effortlessly stunning, her leather jacket rolled up to reveal familiar tattoos snaking down her forearm. She was exactly how you remembered and yet entirely different. 

She stared at you for another moment, her silence unnerving. Her eyes brimmed with emotions you couldn’t understand. Finally, Jimin rose to her feet, placed the pink box on the counter, and lightly squeezed your arm before turning to leave. 

You stared at the box, stunned, your mind reeling. It was from your favorite bakery in Busan, the one she had driven hours to visit countless times when you were together. Your chest tightened as you realized the lengths she must’ve gone to for this gesture. 

But you couldn’t let yourself fall for her again. Not this time. 

“I’ll be right back!” you yelled to your coworker, grabbing the box as you stormed out of the bistro.

The cold November air bit at your skin as you scanned the street for her. 

You found her leaning against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight stopped you in your tracks. When had she started smoking again? Fury flared in your chest. You strode toward her, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and tossing it to the ground. 

“What the hell, Jimin?” you snapped, glaring at her. “I thought you quit.” 

She continued to stay silent, her dark eyes fixed on you as if trying to engrave your face in her memories.

Your anger wavered. You shouldn’t care. You couldn’t care. Not after everything. Shoving the pink box back into her hands, you hissed, “Don’t ever come to this bistro again.” 

The words tasted bitter, and regret coiled in your stomach the moment they left your lips. But you couldn’t take them back. Not now. 

Jimin nodded wordlessly, her lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile—one that inexplicably cut deeper than any argument could. With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the cold night. 

.

.

.

.

It seemed after that night, Jimin had made it her mission to claw her way back into your life, whether you wanted her to or not. She didn’t speak, didn’t push, but her presence was always there, an unspoken reminder of everything you’d once shared.

You could feel her eyes on you during lunch, lingering from across the cafeteria as if she thought she could will you to look back. Even on your way to work, you swore you’d catch her silhouette in the distance, leaning against a lamppost or sitting on a nearby bench, always careful not to cross any boundaries but still there.

The weekends were no escape either. When AESPA was invited to perform at the school fair you unfortunately was in charge of organizing, it felt like fate, or perhaps Jimin, was mocking you. She stood front and center, capturing attention with her effortless charm, but every so often her eyes would search for yours in the crowd, a desperate glance that left you feeling raw and exposed.

What annoyed you most, though, was her silence. She never spoke to you, never tried to bridge the impossible gap between you. And yet, as much as it infuriated you, you hated to admit how much you missed her voice.

The way it would rasp slightly in the mornings when she whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the confident drawl she carried when talking to others.

This Jimin, silent and unsure, almost timid, felt like a stranger. It was disarming, and you weren’t sure if you hated her for it or if it broke your heart just a little more.

As much as you tried to build walls around yourself, Jimin had a way of chipping at them, bit by bit, with gestures that felt achingly familiar.

One evening when you finally left the library, you found a gift on the hood of your car, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, was a book you had mentioned loving once, years ago before you got together with her, a rare edition of poetry that you never got the chance to buy.

Tucked inside was a small card with her unmistakable handwriting:

For when you need an escape.– J

Your heart twisted painfully, remembering how she used to surprise you with little things like this, whether it was a book, a drink she knew you loved, or a random trinket that reminded her of you.

Another day, on your way home from a long shift, you found her waiting by the campus fountain. She didn’t approach, didn’t say anything, just held out a single stem of a sunflower, your favorite flower, the kind she used to bring to your dorm every time you aced an exam.

You wanted to yell at her, to demand why she was doing this now, but instead, you took the flower silently, clutching it tightly all the way home.

The memories came rushing back. The way she used to sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study but really just stealing glances at you over the top of her books. How she’d wake up early to walk you to class, even if it meant cutting her own sleep short. The nights she stayed up late with you on the phone, talking about nothing and everything until you both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

Jimin knew exactly how to unravel you, and she was relentless in her quiet persistence.

Another day, after a particularly stressful day, you find yourself staring at a box left outside your apartment. Inside was a Slowpoke doll (you used to call her your SlowPoke because she was always running late and had a knack for falling asleep in random places) and a note: 

I know how these made you feel like you weren’t good enough, but these are the things I love about you. All your interests, your little habits…don’t stop.

You shoved the box under your bed in a haze of shame and anger. You’d given up your obsession with Pokémon long ago, sacrificing that part of yourself just to appease her fans and their cruel remarks. But as the days stretched on, your resolve wavered. You caught yourself glancing at the box more often than you cared to admit, the memories flooding into your mind. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled the Slowpoke doll from the box and placed it on your bed. That night, you held it close as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by a piece of the past you thought you’d lost. 

Each gesture tugged at the guarded heart. You hated her for how easily she slipped back into your life, even as you found yourself clutching the flower she’d given you, rereading her notes late into the night, and biting your lip to suppress the warmth spreading in your chest.

You hated her, and yet, you couldn’t deny your feelings for her. You never could.

.

.

.

.

You wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, shielding yourself from the brisk evening wind as you waited for Minjeong outside the movie theater.

The newest Marvel movie had finally been released, and although you’d downplayed your excitement, your heart raced. Your lame obsession with Avengers had always been a sore spot, especially since Jimin’s fangirls used it to mock you mercilessly.

Over time, you tried to bury that part of yourself, to hide how much you still adored superheroes. It was easier than facing the ridicule—or the memories tied to it. 

When Minjeong, your best friend since elementary school, asked if you wanted to see the movie, you hesitated at first. But her easy acceptance of your quirks had always been earnest, so you agreed.

The sound of tires crunching gravel pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see a sleek black Mercedes pulling into the parking lot. Minjeong stepped out, her face drawn in a disgruntled scowl. She spotted you and quickly brightened, crossing the space in a few brisk strides before pulling you into a warm hug. 

“Hey, Y/N-nie. Have you been waiting long?” she asked, her voice light, though her body was stiff against yours. 

You shook your head, but something about her demeanor made you pause. Your gaze drifted back to the car, the sleek black exterior gleaming under the parking lot lights. A pit formed in your stomach as realization hit. 

“Was that… Jimin?” you asked cautiously. 

Minjeong froze. Her jaw tightened, her grip on your arms faltering slightly before she let out a resigned sigh. She avoided your eyes as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly. 

“She’s the one who asked me to bring you here,” Minjeong added after a pause. Her tone was careful, measured, as though she were treading on thin ice. “She even bought the tickets beforehand.” 

You blinked at her, stunned. 

“I didn’t want to do it,” Minjeong continued quickly, frustration in her voice. “I told her this was a bad idea, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze dropped to the ground.

“She was persistent.” 

Your heart did a strange flip at that. You could almost picture Jimin sitting across from Minjeong, stubborn as ever, insisting that she take you to the movie. She must have known showing up herself would only push you away, so she found a way to make sure you’d still see it. It was so… Jimin. Thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache. 

“She’s been doing things like this for weeks,” Minjeong muttered, almost to herself. “Little things. She thinks they’ll fix everything.” Her round eyes flickered with an anger she didn’t bother to hide.

“I told her to leave you alone. I told her you didn’t need her messing things up again.” 

“She hasn’t been bothering me,” you said softly, reaching out to squeeze Minjeong’s hand in reassurance when her voice grew sharp.

“I promise, Jeongnie. She hasn’t done anything. Don’t worry.” 

Minjeong’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her lips pressed into a tight line. “Has she talked to you yet?” 

You shook your head. “No. Weirdly, she hasn’t said a word. Just… left some gifts every now and then.” 

At that, Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she groaned, slapping her forehead.

“I’m so stupid,” she muttered, half to herself. 

“What?” you asked, confused by her sudden exasperation. 

She shook her head quickly, waving the question away. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside. The movie’s about to start.” 

As she guided you toward the theater, her arm looped protectively through yours. Though Minjeong was close friends with the leader, it was clear she didn’t like Jimin trying to worm her way back into your life.

You could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the subtle furrow in her brow. She didn’t trust Jimin. Not her promises, not her intentions, and certainly not her ability to heal the wounds she’d caused. After all, it had been Minjeong who had patiently helped you piece yourself back together, bit by bit.

And yet, the fact that she’d brought you here today, using Jimin’s tickets, betrayed the tiny sliver of hope she held for her.

.

.

.

.

This was the fifth time that day Jimin walked past the bistro, casually peering through the windows with her hands stuffed in her leather jacket pockets before walking away.

You watched her each time, fidgeting, kicking the ground with her boots, looking like she wanted to step inside but was holding back. It was endearing, not that you’d admit it. But every time, she chose to walk away, opting to follow your words from before instead.

It had begun to snow, and you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying.

“Stupid oaf,” you muttered, before slipping outside to call out Jimin’s name.

She was already on her sixth round of circling the bistro, her slender figure blending into the gray snowfall.

“Yoo Jimin!” You called, your breath forming a cloud in the cold air.

The raven-haired girl stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned around to look at you. A nervous grin tugged at her lips, and your heart fluttered involuntarily.

“Just…just come in.” You sighed, avoiding her gaze.

Jimin’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with glee like a little kid as she quickly made her way over.

You led her through the busy bistro, past the tables full of customers, to the counter, exactly where she had sat the first time she came. You couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at the way she was staring at you, her face resting in her palms, eyes wide and starry.

Sighing, you pushed the menu to her. “What do you want to order?”

Jimin merely looked at you, a silly smile gracing her lips. Your eyes flickered to it, momentarily lost in the soft curve of her mouth and her luscious lips, before quickly looking away.

“Fine.” You mumbled, quickly pouring her a cup of warm coffee.

Fortunately, you were distracted by the steady stream of orders. It was a Saturday night, after all, and that meant people were coming in for drinks. You were busy making drinks, serving them, but with Jimin there, it felt different, lighter, happier.

That was when Joon, a usual customer and a tall, blurry figure, stumbled over to the counter, clearly drunk. You tensed instantly. Joon was always handsy when he drank, more often than not, and you always tried to stay out of his way.

“Y/NNNNN,” he slurred, leaning way too close for comfort, his breath heavy on the counter.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, and you saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

“I missed you,” Joon continued, leaning forward, his gaze lingering in a way that made your stomach churn.

“How about we go on a date? My place is just around the corner.”

“I’m not interested, Joon.” You pushed back, trying to create some space. “Please, leave me alone.”

Joon’s expression twisted into something more sinister, his hand suddenly reaching over the counter to grab your arm, his fingers digging into your skin. You winced at the pressure, red marks forming on your arm as he held you tight.

That’s when Jimin had had enough. She stood up, towering over him, her height equal to his, but with a quiet strength that commanded attention.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her.” Her voice was cold, and before you could react, she pushed Joon off, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Joon recovered quickly and swung at Jimin, narrowly missing her face by a hair. You stepped forward, panic flooding your chest, quickly pulling Jimin away from him.

“Let it go, Jimin,” you urged, your voice shaky as you tugged her close to you. “Please, stop.”

Jimin hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked at you. She reached down and gently cradled the arm that Joon had grabbed, her cold fingers brushing over the tender skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I’m okay,” you said, trying to reassure her.

She looked like she was about to say something when a yell from your coworkers snapped your attention back to the scene. You turned just in time to see Joon charging forward, having managed to break free from the grip of your coworkers. His fist collided with Jimin’s temple with a sickening crunch, and she crumpled to the floor.

You screamed, panic rising as onlookers rushed to contain Joon. Jimin lay motionless, and you immediately knelt by her side, heart racing.

“Jimin?” You screamed, rushing to her side. The blood had already begun to trickle down her temple, and a bruise was swelling rapidly.

You knelt beside her, panic clawing at your chest. “Jimin? Baby? Please, wake up.”

You cupped her pale face in your trembling hands, her skin cool against your palms. She was so still, and it terrified you.

After a few moments of desperate attempts to rouse her, her eyelids finally fluttered open, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Oh thank god,” you sighed out in relief, your chest tightening as her eyelids slowly fluttered open.

“Jimin? Can you hear me?”

Her cheeks were squished as your hands cupped her face. You might have found it cute if you weren’t so worried. Her dazed expression and the way her chubby cheeks puffed out only made your heart ache more.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, a dopey smile still lingering on her lips.

You leaned back, running a hand through your hair in relief and exasperation.

“No, Jimin,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just got punched. This is very real.”

Her grin faltered in realization. Her eyes widened in horror as she scrambled to sit up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, groaning in embarrassment, her hands shooting up to touch her tender forehead.

“Please forget I said anything. Please.”

She couldn’t believe that she wasted her only chance, her only sentence, just to ask her if you were real.

You reached out, gently stopping her from touching her injury. “Don’t touch. You’re bleeding.”

Your manager let you leave early after apologizing repeatedly to Jimin. After all, one of the biggest rising stars had just been injured in his bistro.

Jimin smiled good-naturedly and shrugged off his apologies, clearly not phased. She had refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, and unable to stop yourself, you found yourself driving her back to your apartment.

You promised yourself this was a one-time thing, that you were just being a caring, responsible friend. Anyone would’ve done the same for her, right?

As you led her into your room, she glanced around, the familiar space tugging at something in her heart. Her eyes landed on her sweatshirt that she had lost so long ago, still draped casually over the chair.

She noticed the absence of the photos on your vanity mirror, ones that once captured all the memories of the two of you. But, then, her gaze softened as it settled on the SlowPoke doll still sitting on your bed. Her heart skipped a beat. You had kept it.

You still cared, even if you seemed so distant, so far away.

Maybe, just maybe, you hadn't forgotten her love.

You paused in your tracks as you saw Jimin poking at the SlowPoke on your bed. You turned a brilliant shade of pink, flustered, before quickly ushering her to sit down so you could tend to her wound.

"Don't move," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended as you reached up gingerly to disinfect the cut on her temple.

She winced and hissed in pain but didn’t pull away, remaining still, her dark eyes never leaving your face. The closeness of your bodies was unnerving, her skin so warm under your touch, and that tight white shirt she wore, showing off her tattoos, only added to the flurry of thoughts rushing through your head.

Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Jimin, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off you. The softness in your eyes and the gentleness of your touch, was making her heart race. She wasn’t sure if she'd ever have this chance again.

"Why are you doing this, Jimin?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more strained than you'd planned, your hands trembling as you applied a thin layer of medicine.

Jimin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Doing what?"

"All this," you said, motioning between the two of you. "Not talking to me, but following me around... giving me gifts..."

Jimin paused, taking a deep breath, before saying, “I wanted to make you remember.”

“Remember what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you finished applying the medicine.

She let out a small breath, trying to steady herself. "Remember us."

She looked down at her hands, then back up at you, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "And... make you remember my love for you."

You froze, your hands retreating from her face as your heart pounded in your chest. You searched her eyes, so open, so full of regret and hope.

And in that moment, you knew you still loved her too.

"Jimin..." You tried to form words, but your throat was tight, the emotions threatening to spill over. “I-“

Before you could finish, Jimin quickly knelt beside the bed, gently cradling your hand in hers and placing it in your lap.

“Please, give me another chance, Y/N,” she begged, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free.

"These past few months without you have been... miserable. I know I hurt you. I know I lost myself, but I promise, I won’t let this happen again. I love everything about you, your softness, your quirky obsessions... everything. I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you when you were doubting yourself, or protect you from the hate.”

She took a shaky breath, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

Your heart clenched, the weight of her words crashing over you. The pain you had felt for so long, the loneliness that had settled deep in your soul, began to break. You missed her, but you're scared, so scared. Scared of trusting her again, scared of the hurt she could cause, scared of how much power she held over you.

“You hurt me, Jimin. So much,” you said softly, unable to keep the pain from your voice. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Jimin nodded, her face softening with understanding, though the sadness in her eyes remained. But she wasn’t giving up.

“I know,” she said, her voice steady. “But I will spend the rest of my life earning back your trust.”

And in that moment, with everything on the line, you finally gave in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her eyes widened, and that smile, so hopeful, so full of warmth, spread across her angelic face.

“Yes, Jimin. One chance.” You whispered, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yes!” Jimin punched the air lamely, her eyes sparkling as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up effortlessly.

Before you could even react, she spun you around in a twirl, making you let out a small scream in surprise. The sudden rush of laughter filled the room as you both stumbled and collapsed onto the bed, her arms immediately wrapping around you.

.

.

.

.

The soft thud of Jimin’s heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, a comforting rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts. You gently traced the ink on her forearms, each line and curve filled with her memories. Her steady breathing was a lullaby, peaceful and steady, as you cuddled up to her.

After tending to her injury, you had given her a change of clothes, and let her stay the night. She refused to let go of you, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her lips pressing soft, affectionate kisses to your forehead. It was a strange feeling, like nothing could go wrong in that moment.

For the first time in months, your heart felt whole again, free of the old pain that had lingered too long.

But then, a thought crept into your mind. Gently, you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting the beautiful dancer’s.

She whined, unhappy at the space between you. You laughed softly, seeing the playful pout on her lips. Outside, she was fierce, confident, and intimidating even, but here, in front of you, she was just a clingy baby.

“I wanted to ask,” you began, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Why did you want me to forget about what you said at the bistro? When you told me to forget it?”

A faint pink blush spread across her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably, not meeting your eyes.

"It was because..." she trailed off, her voice hesitant, and you gently cupped her chin, forcing  her gaze to meet yours.

“Because of what?”

"Because Minjeong said I could only talk to you once. One sentence. If you reacted badly, I would have to leave your life for good," Jimin admitted, looking away in embarrassment.

"I couldn’t believe I wasted that one sentence on asking if you were real. I was scared Minjeong would beat me up if you got mad."

You stared at her in disbelief. "That was why you refused to speak to me?"

Jimin nodded, her lips twisting into a sheepish smile.

"You’re so fucking stupid, Jimin," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head, though a fond smile tugged at your lips.

"Thank god you’re good at dancing, or else I’d be worried about your future."

"Hey!" she whined, pushing you playfully. "I’m not stupid! It’s just... Minjeong is scary when she’s mad."

Unable to hold back your endearment for this stupid lovable girl, you finally leaned down to press your lips to hers.

Jimin froze, marveling at the feel of your soft lips against hers. She had been dreaming about this moment for so long, and she quickly kissed you back with just as much enthusiasm. The kiss was soft at first, tentative before it deepened following the quickening of your heart beats.

When the air between you became a problem, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, but neither of you made a move to break the closeness. Your foreheads rested together, and for a moment, you just smiled into the space between your lips.

“What did you plan to say then?” You whispered, still breathless from the kiss, “The sentence.”

“Oh, I was going to say: Look at this cool tattoo I got.” She said mischievously, before sitting up and pulling off her shirt, leaving herself in nothing but a bra top.

You blushed immediately, eyes instinctively flicking to the defined muscles of her abs as she twisted to show you the back of her shoulders. For a moment, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the way her muscles flexed before your gaze landed on a small patch of ink on the corner of her right shoulder.

“You got a tattoo of a Charmander?” you sputtered, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Jimin grinned, proud of herself.

“It reminded me of you. You have the same eyes as Charmander. And also, it’s your favorite Pokémon, so it’s a win-win.”

“Jimin, my favorite Pokémon is Chikorita…” you sighed, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Chikorita.” She repeated, her lips pursing in thought. “Not Charmander?”

“Not Charmander.”

She thought for a second, then shrugged with a grin. “At least it looks like you.”

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you grabbed the collar of her top and pulled her into another kiss, one that made her remember that you were definitely hers.

got a bit carried away so some scenes kinda dragged out 😬

but hope you all enjoyed this loserish version of jimin!

[atlasisreal]

.

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

[animentality]

I'm convinced that terfs have to be lonely jobless shut ins who never interact with other human beings ever because otherwise I can't comprehend how you can act as if every man you've ever met was Ted Bundy.

Like "women live in PERPETUAL fear of men - men are APEX PREDATORS and you can't take their eyes off them for even a second and women and men just can't live or work together, it's IMPOSSIBLE-"

Like dude.

You do not have a job. You never leave your house. You do not have irl friends.

I walk by men every day and most of the time, they totally ignore me or do an awkward nod.

Sometimes I run into men at bus stops and they do this really scary thing where they scroll through shit on their phones and pretend I don't exist as I pretend they don't exist.

I work with men and they do this thing where they ask me how my weekend was and then I say nothing, and they say hmm sounds like the dream. Sometimes they say I had to clean my garage, and I nod and say sounds like fun, and then we awkwardly avoid eye contact.

I've even met men who like, go to the grocery store and buy tomatoes and get out of my way when I move by with a shopping cart, and men that start jogging when I'm holding the door open for them because they feel bad that I'm standing there.

And men that mop up floors and take trash out of the office and throw me a quick smile or a nod when I pass by because it's the normal human thing to do, acknowledging another human is passing by.

So terrifying.

Y'all need to meet people.

Being constantly online is rotting your nerve endings and your brain cells.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Arven Headcannons (Romantic)

No warnings: Just pure fluff

There are a few general headcannons in here and a couple of how i think him and Nemona's friendship would be. But its 90% fluff. I actually wrote WAYYYY more than what's in this post but i didn't think people would want to read an entire Essay. So here are a selection!

This man cannot bake for anything. Give him a grill and bread, he will give you a 5 star meal. Give him a whisk and a cake tray, he will burn the house down. So don’t expect a homemade cake on your birthday. Or at least don’t expect one from him.

He was Smitten with you the moment you agreed to help him on his Titan Quest. Reluctantly or joyfully, hearing you agreeing made him fall head over heels for you and he didn’t even know it. Maybe that's why he tried extra hard on those Sandwiches. 

Arven and Nemona used to fight over the best friend position, You’d usually have to stand in the middle of them to prevent their Pokémon battles from spilling into personal ones. Arven would later claim the Boyfriend card once Area Zero was dealt with, Nemona was very pleased to cement the best friend spot.

You are the only other person who's allowed to take Mabosstiff out on walks. You're his person, so you get the puppy. Nemona and Penny both tried, it resulted in Arven throwing a tomato at Nemona and Penny slowly backing out of the room. He did mourn the tomato though… he wanted that tomato.

Arven isn’t necessarily Protective, but he is observant. He will defend your honour and voice with every ounce of his being. But he also isn’t a violent person, that's what Pokémon battles are for. 

That being said, if something did happen to you, especially if you fell ill. He would go to hell and back to find some way of helping you. He already proved that much, just don’t bail on him if he needs you most.

Love Language: Gift Giving + Quality time.

If he can, he will SPOIL you. He never had someone love him the way you do. Show him the kindness and compassion that makes his heart sore. If he could give you the world. He’d hand you the Galaxy on a silver plate. But until he can find a Cosmo. A plushie will have to be done for now.

He is not a morning person at all. The only reason you will ever find him up before midday is for one of two reasons: A teacher told him off for being late and he’s only got 1 more warning before another suspension OR Mabosstiff dragged him out of bed by the ankle and forced him to go outside. There is no other reason.

Terrible at video games, absolutely horrendous. Dude can’t even play Minecraft without throwing the controller. Penny tried to teach him how to play Stardew Valley, he got angry at Pierre for the backpack price and hasn’t picked up the game again. Though he’s happy to watch you play and will hold down a button if you get tired. Never ask him to play though… unless you need to laugh, then ask. 

One time you tried to put a bow on Mabosstiff ‘s head. With no recollection how or why, it somehow ended up in Arven’s hair. You have now learnt Arven can rock a manbun and a sparkling pastel pink bow. 

When you first stayed the night, dude slept like a board. He did not move a single cell in his body. It wasn’t until you were resting your head on his chest that he actually moved. He has since loosened up, but it took a while for him to trust himself enough to even touch you when you slept. 

He cannot Flirt. You cannot tell me otherwise.

He bought you both onesies to wear on movie nights. Yes he has to have a Saturday movie night with you or he gets grumpy. 

Sometimes Arven will bring you lunch or make you breakfast so he knows you have eaten at least something during the day. Plus he also uses it as an excuse to see you smile but he will never say that to your face. Only Mabosstiff.

Dude is terrified of Cetitan. Ever since the "mountain incident" Cetitan is his greatest enemy. Arven tries to act tough and unafraid to impress you but, Grusha has and will continue to use this fear to his Advantage any time Nemona drags Arven to the Mountains. You totally didn’t make a deal with Grusha and Nemona, that isn’t something you did… Wink wink.

You don’t borrow his clothes, he donates them. There have been numerous occasions you have opened a drawer or wardrobe to find one of his numbers, jackets, vests, anything! Just something new of his somewhere for you to have. He will even buy different sizes if you prefer baggy shirts or snug shirts.

He remembers everything and yet nothing at the same time. You ask him what day it is, he’ll look at you like you just asked him to explain calculus to a class of year 1’s. Ask him your favourite movie!? Arven will go into excruciating detail about everything to the point you’d think he directed it. Nemona and Giacomo once held a quiz night on Arven just to test how much he did remember. Dude remembered nothing about anyone else, except birthdays… he’s good at that. But you dude could write your autobiography. 

Dude has zero fear of heights, once Miridon learnt how to fly, anytime Arven would join you, he’d always sit behind you so he could hold your waist. It’s been a little thing of his ever since Area Zero, he can’t not do it. Even if he’s the better driver; Dude will sit behind you as an excuse to just hold you.

Almost No PDA he is a private person. He does lean on you though or will stand behind you almost like a bodyguard. If he does touch you in public it's usually a reassuring hand on the shoulder, on the small of your back to guide you somewhere or your arm locked into his. He isn’t a hand holder, he usually is carrying something or needs his hands free so he does subtle stuff instead.

[heartfullofleeches]

I love that idea for the 4th franken hound!

Also just read ff reader with shorts lore have mercy plEase MORE FAST FOOD READER THIGHS

(FF Reader crushing things with their thighs? FF Reader crushing things with their thighs)

"Go! Go! Go! Go!"

Everytime they show up late- The janitor tracks the roar of cheers and hollers to the play area doors. A sticky substance bolts their feet to the floor as they enter - bitterness punching them in the gut knowing they'll have to be the one to clean the mess up. The janitor surveys the filthy covered floor to see the extent of the damaged, grimacing at each new sight they see. Some produce that looked liked it been pressed with a rolling pin, a flattened kid's meal box, a crushed soda can? What the hell happened while they were fixing their tires?

...

"...Holy shit..."

Sitting at one of the tables, your fellow crew mates surround you. The bathroom succubus cheers you on from over your shoulder, phone camera pointed at your lap. Lambchop towers over you, enjoying the flesh of your previous victims - the juices of raw tomatoes and apples staining the mascots white fur. Their eyes too focus on the item between your thighs, more hunger present in them than usual. Even the ice cream machine ghost was apart of the crowd - his eternal prison wheeled into the venue so he wouldn't miss out. None of you would hear the end of it if you did. He points out a hairline fracture splitting through the middle section of the fruit held between your thighs.

"I see a line! It's breaking! Keep going!"

Sure enough, the split widens as you squeeze harder - the red innards of the melon spilling from within and down your sticky legs. Gripping the undersides of your seat, you lift yourself off from the table as beads of sweat pour down your face - flexing your muscles as the strain increases around the melon's thick skin. You shovel two fingers between the gap, holding it in place as you plop back down on the bench. You throw one leg over the other and with one final compression the watermelon breaks in two - lower half falling into the waiting hands of Lambchop as you hold up the rest to show to everyone.

"Who wants watermelon?!"

Thunderous applause rumbles from the ball pit as the hands clap in celebration of your victory. The bathroom succubus replays the exact moment the watermelon splits exchanging words of disbelief with the ice cream machine ghost.

"They fucking did it- They actually did it-"

"I know- Dude, I totally didn't think they were gonna get pass that coconut either, but they did."

The Janitor picks their jaw off the floor as you notice them at last, waving them over. "...was did all this stuff go back or something?"

You place your half of the watermelon on the table. "Probably not. We've been cleaning out the ball pit since you hate to do it and somewhere along the line Lye dared me to crush a soda cup between my legs which lead to this."

"Cool....cool..... Can...can someone send me that video?"

[cringevalue]

stuff...

written for @steddiemicrofic's prompt: 'stuff' | wc: 483 | rated: T | tags: pool party, steve harrington's ass, jokes about hypnosis

––

He knows this is not what he should be thinking about. What kind of man- What kind of straight twenty year old man goes to their new dude-bro-male-friend’s pool party, intending to throw one of the dwerps into the water before they can change into their swimwear, just to spend the whole time staring at said dude-bro-male-friend’s ass.

Listen, it’s not his fault, okay? Maybe this dude-bro-male-friend shouldn’t have such a perfectly round ass! Has anyone ever thought about that? Surely someone has, because having an ass like that should be a crime. And it’s not gay! No, it’s not gay because an ass like that should belong to a girl, not some jock dude that didn’t technically bully Eddie in high school, but was definitely a not-so-innocent bystander. A guy like that should have a smaller ass, flatter. A guy like that doesn’t deserve such a pretty little feminine-

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Steve asks, plopping down on the lounger beside Eddie.

Weakly, Eddie answers, “Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Oh, you know… Stuff.”

Steve snorts and leans closer to Eddie, lowering his voice as he asks, “Could this stuff have anything to do with what your eyes have been locked on since you got here?”

“Huh? No, I’m not thinking about the kids.”

“No, you’re not.” Eddie can hear the smirk in Steve’s voice. “Did you see Mike and Lucas trying to drown each other ten minutes ago? I don’t think you did, because you haven’t been looking at the kids.”

“What are you…”

“Seriously, man. What is it about my ass that has you so… so hypnotized?”

“What? I’m not-”

“Right, right. You haven’t been staring at my ass and you’re just thinking about stuff. That stuff must be pretty important or- Oh, honey… You’re red as a tomato.”

Eddie can feel the burning sensation in his cheeks and that only makes this worse.

“Hey, why don’t we head inside? I’ll let you take a peak at that stuff without these swimming shorts in the way, yeah?”

It doesn’t take any effort to get Eddie inside and up to Steve’s bedroom, and Eddie is practically drooling when Steve pulls his shorts off.

“Hey, do you think I could actually hypnotize you if I just moved my stuff side to side?” Steve asks, swinging his hips. “You look all tranced out already. What do you want? To touch it?”

Eddie takes that as permission and steps forward, splaying both hands over Steve’s asscheeks. He feels hypnotized right now - he’d probably do anything Steve told him. Fuck, what if Steve tells him to like, bark or something? He’s not going to bark for Steve Harrington.

“You know you can move your hands, right?”

“I want to bite it,” Eddie blurts. He hadn’t even been thinking about biting it. Where did that come from?

Steve just grins. “Go ahead and bite it, then.”

[nimbooz]

Ok I'll probably change my mind down the road bc it's fresh rn but izutsumi rn is such an annoying character and I don't really understand her addition to the team. Like I find her unbearable in the anime I wanna throw her off a building. She makes me super angry. Don't cancel me woke mob

Can I say something mildly (?) controversial

[rumiracle-whip]

prevarus dashboard simulator

🌻 devoted-yuri

just found out i got chosen :( this is so much pressure

🌻 devoted-yuri

why does my brother thaddeus look so pissed off

15 notes

👷‍♂️ workinhardorhardlyworkin follow

this dude at my job just comes in for like ten hours every day to sort rocks and not talk to anyone, what a weirdo. if this gets 10k notes I'll throw a tomato at his head tomorrow.

👷‍♂️ workinhardorhardlyworkin follow

wow, that was fast, todays the day!

47k notes

🪨 granite-gecko

owwww :((

3 notes

👤 thegentlemanthief-deactivated220612

Preforming tonight at the Golden Chalice Tavern! Come and see the great Raoule Le Blanc work his magic ;)

🎻 raoulefan67 follow

WOOOOOOOOOO

🎻 roulefan67 follow

wgere did he go

7.4k notes

👑 therealzuen ☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️

lots in store tonight ;)

486k notes

🗡️ holyguard follow

ugh, a break in, what a pain.

🗡️ holyguard follow

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE HIGH PRIEST IS DEAD????

🗡️ holyguard follow

HIS SON DECAPITATED HIM???????

🗡️ holyguard follow

SOMEONE STOLE THE BLADE OF THE HOLY GRAIL??????????

🗡️ holyguard follow

i am so getting fired

237 notes

👁️ exandrotharchangelofswagness follow

WOOOOOOOO GUESS WHO'S BACK BABYYYYYYY

4.2k notes

🪨 granite-gecko

this day just keeps getting better :D

🪨 granite-gecko

I WAS WRONG WHAT IS THATTTTTT

👁️ exandrotharchangelofswagness follow

HEY THERE NERD

682 notes

🪷 rumiiiraclemiii

first post! excited to be here :)

37 notes

🧍‍♂️well-meaning-citizen follow

where did the sky go.

6k notes

[happypeaceperson]

It's just a crush

Ethan landry x male reader

Slight sexual refrences and actions but nothing too in depth, a lot of making out tho ;) !!

No scenes related to the movie so no worries about spoilers!

You're still a virgin?" Quinn asked Ethan as he finished making the popcorn.

"Can you shut the fuck up, please" Ethan said, clearly offended by the question. He places the popcorn bowl onto the table.

Quinn lets out a laugh "Have you even made your move on him yet?" She reaches forward, placing her phone down beside the popcorn before taking a handful.

"No. Ok. I haven't, not everyone is as carefree as you." Ethan sits next to her placing a hand over his face.

"Well, tonight could be the night, if you grow a pear." Before Ethan could deny what she stated, he heard the door open.

"we're back!!" Ethan shot his head over towards the voice. It was Y/N. Anika walked in before him.

"Here's the snacks." She throws the snacks onto the table before sitting next to Quinn. Ethan knew she did that on purpose, so the only seat left would be beside him.

"And the alcohol" Y/N said, shaking the cans as he entered. Placing them on the table before sitting down. Ethan felt their legs brush. He felt a blush grow across his face. He started praying that no one noticed.

Thankfully Quinn started the movie before anyone could. Ethan thought the movie was boring, almost falling asleep,but its helped as a distraction from the man beside him. When the movie ended he saw Anika and Quinn get up together, whispering something. He worried he knew what they were planning

He looked over at Y/N, his head resting on his hand. He looked cute sleeping. Y/N awoke with the sound of shuffling behind him.

"Hey me and Quinn are wrecked, i think we're gonna call it a night." Anika announces, giving a mischievous smile to Ethan. He knew it. They both say bye to the boys before walking out.

"God I'm wrecked too" Y/N said looking over lazily at Ethan. Y/N noticed a red hint on Ethan's face, he began to worry if Ethan felt sick. "Are you feeling ok?" He got up to place a hand on Ethan's head.

"Yeah, Yeah i'm fine, just a little warm" Ethan replies slightly moving away from the cute guy's hand that was resting on his forehead. He felt Y/N's hand resting on his shoulder. The blood rushed all over his body. His heart was pounding. He looked over at Y/N, into his soft eye's. Fuck, he was not about to get a hard on over his friend's worries about his health.

"Dude, are you sure? You look like a tomato" Y/N leaned to the side to get a better look at Ethans face. Ethan began to panic. Y/N's hand landed onto his thigh, worsening his already difficult situation. He was not about to embarrass himself right now. Ethan got up, quickly excusing himself to the bathroom.

Y/N grabbed his arm. "Ethan, what's going on?" He pulled Ethan back onto the couch, their faces inches from each other. Y/N looked directly into Ethan's eyes, confusion plastered all over his face. Ethan didn't know what took over him in this moment but he just leaned in, kissing Y/N. He pulled back instantly,shocked from what he had just done. Before he could apologise he felt lips meet with his again. Y/N's hand reached up to brush against Ethans cheek. Ethan felt the tightening sensation in his pants grow. Fuck. He was really making out with his best friend.

Ethan took dominance, pushing Y/N down into the couch, climbing on top of him. The apartment was filled with the breathless moans of the two men, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. Their lips crashed together, barely giving the other enough time to catch their breath. Ethans hand runs up the back of Y/N's thigh, causing him to groan. Ethan began to pull at Y/N's shirt, practically begging to allow him to remove it. Ethan felt like he was rushing this, like he was going too fast, but Y/N wasn't complaining so he must have been doing something right. Y/N lifted his arms, allowing Ethan to remove the shirt. Ethan removed the shirt as fast as he could, throwing it down on the ground beside them.

Ethan looked down at the boy's body that lay underneath him, fuck he was beautiful. "Are you gonna stare or can we continue?" Y/N asked with a sarcastic voice. Ethan laughed at this, before meeting his lips with Y/N's again. Ethan remembered what he saw in those videos he watched, at least he could put them to good use now. He removed his lips and went to start kissing Y/N's neck, sucking at it, listening to the groans of pleasure being released from him. He began to move downwards, kissing over Y/N's body, going down past his chest to his stomach, kissing every piece of skin he could on his way down. Y/N's hand traced over Ethans back. He reached the waistband of Y/N's pants. He grabbed at it looking up at him. Y/N groaned in agreement. Ethan smiled as he began to unbutton the barrier to what he desired most.

Before he could finish the unbuttoning process he heard the door open. His heart dropped as his eyes met with Quinns. Y/N slightly turned his head. "Oh hey Quinn" He said, removing his hand from Ethan's back and waving at her.

"Omg did I just- Fuck I'm sorry" Quinn covered her eyes.

Ethan got off of Y/N, quickly passing his shirt back to him. "What do you want?" Ethan asked, clearly getting annoyed.

Quinn removed her hand from her face before pointing to the table. "I um… I forgot my phone" She walked over, grabbing it quickly before heading back towards the door. "Have fun you two!" she shouted before running out.

"Fuck I'm sorry about her" Ethan said sitting back down. Y/N finished putting his shirt back on.

He laughed, Ethan looking over at him. "Well as I said, I'm wrecked." Y/N dragged himself off the couch, turning around to look at Ethan. "Maybe we could finish this another day?"

Ethan smiled "Sounds like a plan" He watched as Y/N walked towards the door, hearing him call out a goodbye before it slammed shut. Ethan laid back down on the couch, placing his hands over his face. A smile plastered over it

[yangkitties]

bros before hoes ✰ chapter 11: ding dong ditch

wc: 0.9k

You stood outside Hybe Cafe with Tsuki and Anton, making small talk. 

Anton was a timid little dude, albeit being one of the funniest and sweetest guys you knew. He stood awkwardly beside you, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. He chuckled lightly at your attempts at diffusing his nerves, smiling gratefully at you. You’d met him a few times prior to this, and was glad to know he had warmed up to you. 

You don’t even remember how you ended up owing your brother this favour, but you didn’t mind. Anton was a nice guy and if helping him make more friends was the favour, then you were more than ready to complete it. 

Anton and Tsuki were hitting it off, talking about their favourite drinks. Tsuki had this aura which put everyone around her at ease, and you were beyond grateful for her presence. Maybe her being there would help Anton and Jungwon become friends faster. 

Just as you were about to text Sunghoon asking where he was, you heard voices bickering at the end of the hallway. Sunghoon and Jungwon appeared at the turn, seemingly arguing about Sunghoon’s hair. 

Jungwon turned away from Sunghoon, throwing his hands up in frustration. Sunghoon rolled his eyes at him, quickly fixing his hair. 

You laughed to yourself before waving them over. 

‘Tsuki noona!!’ Jungwon ran over, enveloping Tsuki in a hug. She ruffled his hair affectionately, pulling away with a wide smile on her face. Jungwon bowed to you, turning to lightly smile at Anton.

‘That’s right! Jungwon, Anton. Anton, Jungwon!’ You introduced them to each other.

‘I’m here too…’ Sunghoon sulked from the back, awkwardly standing a few feet away. Jungwon rolled his eyes, grabbing him violently and pulling him towards the rest of the group. 

‘C’mon, let’s go inside.’ Tsuki urged the rest of you guys to follow her, going to a booth at the back. 

The first few minutes were awkward, the 5 of you staring at each other in silence. But thankfully Tsuki knew just how to break the ice, and soon enough the conversation bloomed, lively chatter passing between all of you. 

Anton and Jungwon seemed to get along just fine, bonding over their shared interests. You observed them silently, smiling at how genuine Jungwon seemed at getting to know Anton. Anton seemed less awkward, his shy facade slowly melting away. 

You then turned to the other side, looking at Tsuki. She seemed to be making small talk with Sunghoon, who was once again reduced to a blubbering mess. He did look more confident today, his face less of a tomato red and more of a baby pink. 

You joined in on their conversation, intently listening to some story Sunghoon was recounting. Sunghoon was animatedly explaining the events, talking about what he and Jake had been doing in Japan. 

That’s when Jungwon stood up, Anton mimicking his actions, ‘I want to show Anton something up in the practice rooms, I’ll be quick with it!’ He smiled before walking away, Anton waving at you as he followed Jungwon. 

At least I don’t have to drag them away now… Damn it now I have to find an excuse to leave too. You thought to yourself, frowning as you waved back. 

‘Oh! Look at the time, I actually have to go! I promised Haewon I’d help her with cleaning around the dorm.’ Tsuki’s voice cut through your thoughts as she stood up, startling you. 

You shot up instantly, hand on her wrist ‘Oh, really? Well, Tsuki, you stay here I’ll help Haewonnie! You have that dust allergy anyway.’ You mustered up your most enthusiastic smile, lightly nudging Tsuki back to her seat. 

‘No, it’s absolutely okay, let me do it. Plus, Haewon specifically mentioned that she wanted me to help. And you hate cleaning anyway, so let me do it.’ You could see her forced smile as she practically pushed you to sit back down. 

This was a new side of her that you had never seen, and you weren’t too excited to fight her like this. You nod hurriedly, settling into your seat in mild terror. 

As soon as she knew you weren’t going to argue anymore, she morphed back into her usual self, waving cheerfully as she left. 

‘That was… odd.’ You mused loud, fiddling with the ice in your drink. You signed, frown returning to your face. ‘Guess this is it then. See you day after tomorrow for MC practice?’ You turned to Sunghoon, disappointment visible in your face. 

Sunghoon noticed your light pout, suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to do everything to make you feel better overcoming him. 

‘Uhh… I mean just because they’re gone doesn’t mean we can hang out, right? I don’t have anything to do, unless you do?’ He asked tentatively, eyes searching for a sign in yours. 

‘Oh-! That’s fine, yeah, we can hang out!’ You smiled, shoulders relaxing. 

Sunghoon cheered mentally, celebrating his successful attempt at cheering you up. ‘That’s great! Let me go get some more croissants for us and then I’ll tell you this story about me and Heeseungie hyung.’ 

You giggled at his enthusiasm, butterflies filling your stomach at his eager smile. 

The rest of the evening is filled with the both of you exchanging stories of your trainee days and childhoods, laughing and reminiscing about the past. 

You thank whatever deity exists above for this opportunity, basking in Sunghoon’s presence, simply enjoying his company. 

Unfortunately all good things come to an end. You wave bye to Sunghoon, floating on cloud 9 as you leave. You’re beyond happy, and truly nothing could change that. 

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synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...

note: YN LORE JUST DROPPED !!!! if anyone can guess who their brother is i will give you a Kiss 😁

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

[fuck-customers]

BESTIES I'M AT MY FUCKING LIMIT

I work at an indie bookstore. My events manager is an incompetent fuckup. She scheduled a really big event with a major social media influencer at my location despite us having a perfectly serviceable much larger location that would be much better suited to the task because the larger location had some dude with like 5 attendees already scheduled.

She received a courtesy notice from the influencer's agent three months ago that this event was expected to sell out damn near immediately, and we should expect about 250 people (our largest event ever at this location has been about 150). She dismissed it as inflated numbers and bragging. We sold out damn near immediately and I expect about 250 people tonight.

We've been telling people for THREE MONTHS, in the absence of any other communication from our events manager or (as far as we knew) the author's team, that they can still bring their own books to be signed and can still show up, we're just not guranteeing stock for sale without a ticket. (Manager's call.) Events coordinator told us TODAY, THREE HOURS BEFORE THE EVENT STARTS that we will be be turning people away if they bring their own book.

Idk, do you think it'd be a professional faux pas to start booing and throwing tomatoes like the lady in Princess Bride every time I see her?

Posted by admin Rodney

[lonewolflupe]

I had such a weird dream??

So I went to a convention called 'Foxicon' and it was outside, like a music festival. There was just one stage on a grassy field, a crowd gathered in front of it. When I made it inside the crowd, Fox appeared on the stage, and he sat down on a little stool near the edge of it.

And the crowd just went Medieval, throwing all kinds of stuff at him and booing him. There were even dudes dressed up as Palpatine shooting lightning-blue strings from confetti cannons up their sleeves. And Fox just sat there, taking it like he thought he deserved it??

I can't remember the rest of it but I just wanted to climb on that stage and shield him from it. From everything. I know tomatoes are his colour but he didn't deserve any of it.