#im sorry to fixate on something so small and silly

[hyukakisses]

your emo hyuka and puppygirl reader fic was so cute 🥹🥹 love your writing a lot! but i was wondering, do you think you can do something similar with emo beomgyu but this time a bunnygirl reader? if not that’s fineee

(omg thank you..)

-emo beomgyu dating a bunny reader! (request)

pairings: beomgyu x fem reader

plot: random beomgyu dating a bunny girl headcanons

warnings: smut, use of pet names (baby, bun, bunny), fluff

-small puffs of your breathing could be heard as you lazily munch on your treats, “do.. do you want some?” you lift the carrot you were chewing on up to your boyfriends face while you caught him staring at you

-despite your cute nature, beomgyu struggled with taking care of you. “fuck! what- what was that for?!” beomgyu shouts in pain when you latch your bunny teeth into his arm. “that’s for ignoring me for your stupid video game!” you’d shout back thumping your foot down

-beomgyu would only sigh at your temper tantrums, but also secretly finding them cute. “look im sorry baby the guys just want one night of hanging out i swear i’ll be back before eleven” “but they always wanna hang out it’s like you forget you have a girlfriend at home” you’d only whine out a response

-your boyfriend would attempt to calm you down but things only escalated. “are you gay or something?” “what? no” “then why are you so determined to leave me for a night out with your guy friends!”

-the only way beomgyu was able to fix things was pounding you silly before heading out; “i-i love you!” you’d moan sweetly once you were close to cumming, your pretty eyes fluttering close as you felt your boyfriend ring covered fingers rubbing against your cute clit. the emo boy chuckles his hips smacking so close to your stomach, “you sure bun? sure you don’t just love getting your cunnie stuffed and filled with my cum? i could have swore you were telling me how much you hated me earlier.” you were so spent you just whimper out a no

-you’d immediately hop into beomgyu’s arms whenever he came home after hanging out with his annoying friends, latching your lips to his cock as soon as he was seated on a nearby couch. you were always so needy around your boyfriend

-“s-shit slow down bunny im not going anywhere” beomgyu would run his hand down your cute bunny ears, watching you hurriedly down your lips on his pink member. the emo boy was scared you’d choke

-beomgyu noticed you also had a bit of an oral fixation, your small mouth always craving anything. you either had carrots in your, a bottle of your boyfriends cum, his fingers or cock. but you wouldn’t have it either way ): always thanking beomgyu for satisfying your “princess orders” as you both liked to call it >3<

[bug-bites]

whatcha lookin at buddy? :3

tw: none!! just some silly fluffy romantic hcs, also not edited bc im just an eepy lil guy

pairing: rodolfo "rudy" parra x gn!reader

summary: uhhh your boyfriend shares his silly little late night habit with you or something

characters: rodolfo "rudy" parra

notes: i never know what to title these things also i know the formatting is ugly!! i wrote this in my notes app and was too lazy to make it look decent,, <(＿　＿)>

rudy never was one to sleep early, in all honesty he seemed to do the complete opposite. he would always go to bed hours later after you. you never understood why.

it wasn't anything that made you suspicious, he wouldnt go far, most of the time he would still be at home, just outside. it was just odd, but it didnt seem like anything bad?

one night you woke up and there was an unfamiliar emptiness beside you, rudy wasnt there next to you like he was right before you fell asleep

its the middle of the night what else would this guy be doing at 2am??

so you're panicking a bit, you wake up and your boyfriend isnt next to you. sure maybe hes just pissing but you're tired and logic isnt the first thing that comes to mind

you call out for him, your throat a bit dry after you've just woken up and it comes out a bit more panicked than you intended

you sit up, eyes scanning the room looking for him- any sign of him

a sigh of relief leaves your lips, he's there. he's in your bedroom, back turned to you as he gazes upwards, out the window.

as soon as he hears his name his head whips around, why are you panicking?? whats going on?? did something happen? did you have a nightmare? most importantly, are you okay?

but he hears your sigh and you mumble something under your breath. he closes the curtains and walks towards you, gently cupping your cheek

"qué pasa?" "sorry i just- you weren't next to me and i just panicked" "nothing to be sorry for."

his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. he runs his thumb along your cheekbone, holding your cheek so tenderly it feels like you're about to melt

"it's okay. im right here."

"what were you doing?" you ask him, its about damn time he tells you anyways and you're getting curious about his strange nighttime habit "you'll find out tomorrow. its better if its a surprise." he kisses your forehead and climbs back into bed with you. "what if i dont want it to be a surprise?" "well thats not up to you. now go to sleep, cariño"

one his arms snake around your waist, the other making its way under your head, like a pillow but better

the next night, as soon as it gets dark he finally lets you in on his not so secret secret.

he grabs your hand, your fingers intertwining with his and leads you outside to a picnic blanket

"its a bit late for a picnic." you say with a yawn

he rolls his eyes as he walks over to the blanket, lying down flat on his back. you do the same, curious to what his next move was.

"stop looking at me and look up" he says with a chuckle

you listen to him and look up, hundreds of stars scattered in the distant sky. its calm, the sounds of the crickets chirping, his hand in yours, your back flat against the picnic blanket, its so serene you almost forget to breathe

"i used to do this all the time when i was younger." rudy says, breaking the silence "i would set up a mat outside and me and alejandro would lie there for hours until my mamá would yell at us to come back inside"

you look over at him, just for a second and catch him smiling as he reminisces

"i like to look at the stars when i get overwhelmed. reminds me i how small i am in the universe" "thats a bit melancholic, dont you think? the idea that we're so much smaller than the universe. like we dont matter as much as we think" you say, "i dont think of it like that. its like the world is bigger than my problems, it continues and theres so much more than just my troubles." he replies, eyes fixated on the stars "well when you put it that way, it sounds pretty nice"

the next few minutes are spent with rudy teaching you some basic constellations like the big and small dipper and then moves onto the more complex ones like ursa minor, andromeda and orion.

each constellation he points out comes with a story, as great as they look you cant help but watch him as he tells you all about them. its something he loves so deeply, you can tell from the way the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he describes them to you, the look of amazement in his eyes even though he's seen the stars hundreds of times. you cant help but fall more for him with every word he says

"i wish we met earlier. before when i was younger you could see so much more than just ...this. i wish i could've shown it to you" his tone becomes slightly bittersweet.

you don't exactly know what to say, you just wrap an arm around his torso, you mutter a soft "i know" right before you press a kiss to his cheek

the next time you two go stargazing its when you go camping together, although sure its not just in your backyard its as close as you can get with just enough clarity in the sky to see everything rudy wanted to show you :]

taglist: @pygm4li0n

[stormyoceans]

hey girl write down your top 7 (this is nice number😋) of js's fav photo shoots, images

THIS IS SUCH A GREAT QUESTION AND 7 IS INDEED A VERY NICE NUMBER BUT IN THIS PARTICULAR CASE IT MIGHT BE A WAY TOO SMALL ONE LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK ONLY 7 PICTURES FROM JIMMYSEA PHOTOSHOOTS WHEN WE GOT SO MANY JUST THESE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS ✋😭

i mean of course im still gonna try to do it, but know im throwing up all the blood in my body every step of the way and that if you ask me this question again in a couple of weeks the answer might be different ;;;;;;;

ANYWAY HERE GOES NOTHING!!!!!!!!

1. the chemistry in front of this fish tank is astronomical from LEMON Magazine. sorry idk what else to say except that they're literally just looking at each other and yet every time i so much as barely glance at it i still find myself in a dead faint in front of my screen drowning in the sheer incomprehensible levels of magnetism electricity tension vibes oozing from this one (1) single still image. like i know maybe it's weird to put it in first place since it only has their faces and nothing else but it really makes feel in dire need of a mental health crisis intervention team THIS IS WHAT THE WALLS OF MY PADDED ROOM LOOK LIKE

2. forehead touch from Starry Magazine. WHAT CAN I SAY IM NOT IMMUNE TO FOREHEAD TOUCHES. they're giving such effervescent 'we are so deeply intertwined and enthralled by each other that everything else just falls away' vibes that i can even look past the school boys attire this picture is just THAT beautiful. also the tenderness!!!!!!!! the sunflower!!!!!!!! I AM BUT A WEAK WOMAN

3. cuntitude Xtreme100 from ViVi men. invented maximizing their joint slay and serving so much coquettecore cuntism it makes me act deeply unwise. idek what's the worst (read: best) part of it all if jimmy's bold jewelries or sea's outfit that exposes the mole on his chest for the world to see or how fluffy their hair look or the way jimmy is resting his arms on sea's shoulder while sea's head is turned just enough to brush against jimmy's all i know is that whoever styled them for this shoot deserves a raise and a kiss on the mouth.

4. interconnectedness from PRAEW Magazine. look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn't belong in the louvre with a little tag on display under it that shows this exact title like with all due respect to my man leonardo but the mona lisa ain't shit compared to this picture. it should be studied in art classes all around the world for its lines and composition and contemporary figuration and how the intertwinement of the bodies is a metaphor for the mingling of souls throughout lifetimes. OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

5. whole face economy in one image from Mint Magazine. never in the history of the whole entire world have two people looked more stunning like the visual excellence displayed here never fails to propel me into an entire different reality. the other reason i love this one so much is that this is their usual pose but for once sea is the one holding jimmy and that truly makes me feel some type of way, the photographer really was on some galaxy brain shit for this one.

6. sea's oral fixation from ViVi men. at first i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot on the list just to give more variety but im currently too rabid about this one to leave it out. im not sure what compelled sea to put one of the strings from jimmy's hoodie in his mouth but that sure was. A CHOICE. i also love jimmy's smile and the more casual clothes and sea's silly goose vibes and how warm and huggable and comfort shaped they look.

7. high fantasy concept from LEMON Magazine. once again i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot but i think this ones deserves a place on here even just for how original it is like THE VISION THE TASTE THE FLAVOUR THE STYLE THE INSPIRATION THE QUALITY THE VIBES CHINESE MAGAZINES TRULY ARE ON SUCH A COMPLETE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF CREATIVITY GMMTV WISHES IT COULD COME UP WITH SUCH INCREDIBLE OUT OF THIS WORLD IDEAS.

[multifandombullshitbabes]

TOP GUN HEADCANONS: Bob Floyd edition (he's my blorbo)

Gotta honor my icon for my first post here. I love bobby, hes my bby, my son, my silly rabbit.

Let's start:

HE'S TRANS. hes a transman, but he still likes to explore his gender identity trough clothes n shit. basically, I wanna see him in a dress

hes done top surgery, 2 horizontal scars below his pecs and his nipples are heart shaped. cuz i think thats cute

hes not particularly interested in bottom surgery, but he DOES have a glorious t-dick. my son is packin ;)

i also hc him as gay, or just HEAVILY men leaning. I get the pan and bi hcs, but for some reason i see him as a man lover only

he has an insomnia disorder and autism, possibly adhd. at this point, bob will just deal with his shit raw

he has a hyper fixation on the ocean. throughout his years in the navy, he was also doing a marine investigator course, very surface (hah) level of course, but he wanted it official

bob has a scuba diving certification (he ALMOST went full ocean instead of the navy. almost)

bob's family is not his biological one. they are his childhood next door neighbors, who stepped in when his family was um. having issues. I'll make another post for that I think

im just gonna say that bob's mom sucked ASS and his dad wasnt there as much because of divorce when he was 4. he also worked for the USA government, secret service, so their time was limited

he's an only child, but Sirah, the child of his neighbor family, was always a big sister to him. She figured out bob's gender identity since very young, and always helped him make small but meaningful steps to learn n accept it himself

bob is a great cook, but he does prefer when someone else cooks for him. he thinks its very sweet

bob is a supernatural skeptic. he believes more in cryptics and aliens than ghosts n demons

bob's fav animals are cats, sharks and jellyfish

bob is also very interested in space, but more because his dad was, and they would trade facts of each others hyper fixations whenever they could

his aim is IMMACULATE, scarily so. never anger bob if theres throwable or shootable objects nearby. you will be hit

the reason bob doesnt drink with the other daggers is because he has this irrational fear that somehow theyre gonna be called for a mission, theyre all gonna be drunk including him, and for some reason he'll be needed to pilot, even tho thats not his position, n then he'll crash n die somewhere. so he never drinks to ensure hes at least sober if something happens. he knows its irrational, the fear is still there tho

bob is like a disney princess, and will charm any animals that come in contact with him. even that bear that one time. and that shark while he was drunk. he will fight spiders however, verbally

he knows how to play the guitar, but he also wants to learn the drums

bob was on puberty blockers when he was around 14 and started testosterone when he turned 17. His top surgery was his 21st birthday present

everybody growing up always said he looked like his mother, which he hates considering she sucks. it wasnt until he met his grandmother from his father side when he turned 20, when she saw him for the first time since his dads funeral at 14, that she says what shes always thought: that he was the copy paste of his dad. he cried a lot that day

bobs father is actually missing. he went on a mission he knew could be dangerous, a long awaited one, so there were a few years to prepare for that. something about radiation and handling dangerous substances. bob knows this, and they spent as much time together as they can

bob actually named himself after his dad. they are both Robert Floyd. ppl normally think its either spongebob, or the minion, or bob the builder for some reason. one person said robert pattinson from twilight specifically. bob didnt know how to feel (hes team jacob)

That will do for now. cuz its getting long. I'll add of bobs backstory cuz BOY. ITS DARK. IM SORRY IN ADVANCE

[writingbirdy]

Hello! I was wondering if you'd be comfortable writing a reader x Travis Phelps type thing?

Whether it's just jot notes, a paragraph of Travis' thoughts, or anything is fine with me!

I very much love the idea of a stuck up, religious man (Travis, early 20s) being very pissed off at himself for falling in love with someone like me 😅 like, he's so confused and angry but can't get me off his mind at all. I'm a chubby, hairy queer guy who's very short and silly. I like punk clothes but I also like wearing skirts as well. I drew a little picture of myself recently (though I also have glasses and... well, obviously I don't have green skin) so here:

Maybe Travis finds himself going to a shitty coffee shop he doesn't even like too often, and gets embarrassed when he realizes it's because he likes TheReader who works there. Maybe TheReader was hired by Kenneth to clean his house or work on his yard for the summer and Travis (still expected to live there so Kenneth has a close eye on him) finds himself getting fixated on TheReader. Whichever type of story you'd want to do with this Reader x Travis trope is fine with me!

Thank you! (Totally okay for Travis to be insulting towards himself for liking me or be rude directly to me btw, I won't take offense!)

Sure! I'd love to do your request sorry if its a bit late never had a chance to check my inbox!

Request by @lemon-grapejuice

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Coffee shop love

It had been a long week for travis with helping his father in the church, or going to work but he finally had a chance to relax and go out a get coffee.

Walking down the pebbled path of the cafe, a small chim of the bell rang when travis pushed open the blue glass door. The smell of coffee floated about in the air as he walked up to the counter.

"Hello how can I help you!" A young man asked with short brown hair and glasses "I'll have two regular black coffees" Travis said rolling his eyes at the punk style the man was wearing. "Okay! That will be ready soon. can I get your name" "Travis phelps." He said bluntly.

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After getting his coffee and walking home travis sat on his couch thinking about the guy from the coffee shop. Something about him caught travis' attention wether it was his punk style or his pins on the jacket he was wearing but what ever it was it wasn't leaving travis' mind anytime soon.

For the past few weeks travis kept going to the coffee shop for one reason and that was the cashier but he refused to admit that was the reason. "Hello again! A regular black coffees?" (Y/n) said. "Yes...." Travis said grabbing money out of his back pocket. "How come you always come to this coffee shop i can tell you there are way better one...." (y/n) asked.

Travis' face was a slight red as he waited for his coffee to be finished. The more he waited the more he released that the cashier was the reason he kept coming to this shitty coffee shop. It infuriated him every time he thought about it. But he knew there was nothing he could do about his feelings not with his father still hovering over his life all the time....

A/n im sorry its short I just haven't had the motivation to write but really wanted this done

[sharpth1ng]

Boot anon again☠️ (IM SORRY UR ENCOURAGING THIS)

Sooo, I was thinking of horse names for billys horse.. And I think I found the best name ever.

Barn name (what you call the horse in general): Ghost

Show name: 'Did I scare you?'

Idk its so cute and it suits billy so well😭 I can also see Stu getting into horses because of billys hyper fixation! (Stus a sugar daddy to ghost)

I haven't thought of the name for Stu's horse if he ever got one, although Ik it would be something so fucking corny. Also Billy is just a gay horseboy so silly indeed <33

I can see this scenario in my head where basically Billy comes to one of stus local rodeos, and during the practice round he was barrel racing and Stu had lost balance (he made a sharp turn on the barrel and he leaned like a motorcycle) and he fell on the barrel. Billy is just in the background making sure hes okay before laughing. Poor Stu's embarrassed for life. (He makes it up though in the pole bending comp so its ok!)

Also, Riddle is a bad bitch. Shes a pony (pony = satan. If you ever get asked to ride a pony, BE AFRAID) anyway, sorry for continuously writing you novels😭

Whoops sorry bootsie, I keep saving asks to drafts and forgetting

Love the “did I scare you” name that’s great. Also can I just say I wish I had a barn name and a show name. Cool as fuck horses are so lucky.

Lmao Stu as a horse sugar daddy 👌🏻but yeah he would name it something cheesy as hell

I do think Billy would start laughing before he knows Stu’s ok tho, he’s a dick lol. But also lol poor embarrassed Stu, lmao, I do think making Billy laugh about it would make him feel better, boy loves to make his crush laugh.

AH yes, I’ve been told of the dangers of ponies before lmao. Small=anger apparently.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut  words: 2.2k

a/n: and here we are at the end, tbh im a little sad this fic is over, it was so fun to write and i am DEFINITELY more in love with Atsumu than i was before

one | two | three | four | five |

Epilogue 

Four years have passed since you and Atsumu finally got together, and this is the third year in a row he has an away game scheduled on your anniversary. It’s hard for you to actually be mad, he can’t control his schedule. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.

And Atsumu hates that he’s let you down again. Wanting more than anything to finally spend your actual anniversary together instead of substituting for an early or late celebration. You’re a good sport, and he loves you for that, supporting him and his volleyball career without complaint despite his long absences and track record of missing important events.

Though the night before he’s set to leave, you’re sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm while the two of you watch something on the TV. For the past few minutes, you’ve been fiddling with his shirt between your fingers and he knows you’re gathering the courage to say something. He’s pretty certain he can guess what it’ll be about too. And all he can do is brace himself when he hears you huff.

“What if you mysteriously came down with something?” You finally say.

He has to laugh at that. “That’s pretty diabolical of you.”

You shrug, already feeling silly you brought it up at all. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s been three years since either of you were even in the same country on the day you swallowed your pride and stormed into his dorm room to confess to him. Sue you for being a bit put out by it.

“Did you poison my dinner or something?” His heart lifts at the small chuckle he gets out of you from that.

“No, but don’t give me any ideas.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes still on the TV as he jokes, “Besides, ya think they have any chance of winning without me?”

He feels your smile against his chest, then jolts at the jab you give him in the side. But still you say, “They’d be nothing without you.”

Pulling you into his lap, he cradles your face in his hands and looks at you seriously. And even after four years, you’ve never gotten tired of the way he looks at you—still like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I know it sucks.”

“It does,” you pout.

Pressing his forehead to yours he murmurs, “I’d be with you if I could.”

You love these intimate moments with him, when you both let your teasing natures fall away and all that’s left is how much you love each other. Even after four years, it’s still abundant, and somehow still growing every day. So, you sink into his embrace and reply, “I know.” And you do. That’s what makes it bearable. Knowing that even though he’s off in some exciting country, playing the game he loves—there isn’t a minute that goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

“You gunna watch the game?”

It so happens that this year, his game landed on the exact date of your anniversary. When he’d found out, he’d vowed to make you proud; to make him being away so often worth it to you. And it makes his heart swell when you say without hesitation, “Of course.”

So, a couple days later as he’s about to leave for the airport, he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to yours and kisses you as if he’s going off to war or something. He knows it’s a bit overkill, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to do everything he can to make it up to you. And damn, is he slapped in the face with how much he loves you when you finally separate and you tease him, “Sheesh, you’ll be back in a couple days.”

His response is to kiss you again and again muttering between kisses, “Gotta get my fill now to tide me over.”

He only leaves when you’re practically shoving him out the door. “You’re going to be late!” He reluctantly let’s go of you, hefts his duffel over his shoulder, takes his suitcase in hand and heads down the hallway towards the elevator. On his way there, you shout, “Say hi to the boys for me!”

He smiles smugly, winking over his shoulder at you. “Will do.” Knowing full well his teammates are extremely jealous of him because of you. And why yes—he absolutely does love rubbing you in their faces.

Once he’s out of sight, your smile falters as you shut the door and turn to your now empty apartment. A sadness falls over your heart that’s familiar but unwelcome. You have to find something to distract yourself, otherwise you’ll just let yourself wallow, which you know Atsumu wouldn’t want.

On the night of your anniversary, you eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant as you normally do on the nights of Atsumu’s away games. You sit at the bar alone, watching the game on the many TV’s around that Osamu always has on the sports channel when Atsumu is playing. Tonight, you notice Osamu chats with you more than he normally does, and you’re certain he’s picked up on your somber vibes.

He even sits at the bar next to you, talking with you about the game and doing an excellent job of distracting you from the hole Atsumu always leaves whenever he’s gone. Tonight, that hole feels even bigger than it usually does.

“He’s playing good tonight,” Osamu notes, his trained eyes fixated on the TV. No matter how many games you watch, or how often Atsumu talks about volleyball, you’ll never have the same understanding of the game that Osamu does.

Chin resting on your palm, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is he?” To you, it always looks like Atsumu is playing well.

But you like listening to Osamu’s technical breakdown of his gameplay and aren’t opposed to helping his endeavor of distracting you. “He’s tuned in,” is all he says by way of explanation.

You watch the TV with newfound interest, noticing that Osamu seems to be right. Atsumu is normally pretty focused, but tonight whenever the camera shows a closeup of him, the look in his eyes is razor sharp. And yet, he’s still making those insane plays that catch his opponents completely off guard. You can feel your pride bubbling up in your chest like it does every time you watch him play, quirking your lips upward into a small smile.

You love how much Atsumu loves volleyball, and whenever you can you go to his games here in Japan because watching him on TV is nothing compared to in person. Plus, it’s way more fun getting swept up into his arms in the heat of the moment after a win than several days later when the excitement has died a little.

You watch Atsumu the rest of the game, noting how the closer they get to match point, the more tenacious he becomes. But unlike other times, when he gets too excited and starts making insane plays that might not work, he seems to be dialing in even further, pulling the best out of all of his hitters even when they’re at the end of their rope. You at least know enough about volleyball to appreciate just how amazing that is.

To your delight, the Black Jackals win, and as usual several of the players get interviewed afterwards. Somehow, Hinata and Bokuto are still full of energy despite playing a full match, speaking excitedly to the interviewer. The coverage switches to Atsumu’s interview, and you can’t help ogling him a little bit. He somehow manages to look good, his hair damp from sweat but eyes gleaming from the adrenaline of the match.

And as you suspect, like Hinata and Bokuto, he’s pretty amped after the game. Amped enough that he completely ignores the interviewer’s questions and looks right at the camera. Immediately, you’re struck by the feeling that he’s looking directly at you. “I’ve only got one thing to say and that’s happy anniversary to the lovely lady I got waiting for me at home.”

The interviewer flusters, changing gears quickly and trying to get Atsumu to comment more on his relationship, but all he does is give the camera his signature smile and a wink before turning his back to the screen and rejoining his celebrating teammates. You don’t hear what the interviewer says next. You’re pinned to your seat, stunned, until your natural reaction is to burst out laughing at his proclamation.

Osamu just eyes you curiously, a small smile splaying across his lips as you say, “Only Atsumu—I swear.”

He shrugs. “Hey, you picked him.”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Yes, I did.” And you really wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how long or how many times he’s apart from you.  

You leave shortly after the coverage of the game has ended, bidding Osamu goodnight and thanking him for his company and hospitality. He waves you out, and once you’re on your way home, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the loneliness you’ve successfully kept at bay until now. The thought of climbing into a cold bed that feels too big when Atsumu’s not there settles into the front of your mind and it’s hard not to spiral into the sadness that’s been looming over you all day.

You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you, trudging towards your apartment that you know is going to suffocate you with its silence. You know it’s pretty pathetic missing him so much, feeling sorry for yourself that you’re alone once again on this day, but you can’t help it. The hope that next year will be different is nearly gone by now, your determination to refuse to accept it finally broken.

Entering the dark apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make your way to the living room, fully intending on spending the rest of the night mindlessly watching some TV show until you fall asleep. Subconsciously, your thoughts wander to what Atsumu is doing right now. The team usually goes out after games, especially ones they win. And it’ll be a day or two until they leave wherever they’re at, so they have plenty of time.

Part of you aches at the thought of him out, having a good time with his team, while you’re here—alone, watching some lame TV show and feeling sorry for yourself.

What you don’t know, is that Atsumu has forgone the celebration tonight. In fact, he’s rushing to the airport to catch his late flight back to Japan. He booked this flight the day after he found out he was going to be gone again. He might not make it back in time to be there on the actual date, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

On the flight, he thinks about your reaction, imagining your laugh and beaming smile at the sight of him. Daydreaming about sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you until you’re both breathless and dizzy keeps him awake, though he doubts you’ll be when he arrives. That’s alright, he perfectly happy surprising you in the morning too.

He gets back to Japan in the early hours of the morning, and when he enters the apartment, he finds you fast asleep under a blanket on the couch, the TV casting a faint glow into the room. He smiles softly to himself, allowing himself a minute to appreciate how adorable you look. Leaning down, he finagles his arms beneath your shoulders and legs and hefts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom. To his surprise, you don’t wake up. Instead, you mumble quietly, and his heart nearly bursts at how even in your sleep you press closer to him.

Tucking you in, he kisses you lightly on the forehead before climbing under the covers beside you. Pulling you into his arms, you fit nicely in his embrace, and he falls into an easy sleep.

~

In the morning, your eyes flutter open, blearily looking around and realizing you’re now in the bedroom. When did you move in here? Did you put yourself to bed last night without realizing it? It’s then that your eyes snap open at the realization that the apartment smells like breakfast. Heart thundering against your chest, you throw the covers off you and head towards the kitchen so fast you almost trip in the hallway.

Upon seeing Atsumu standing at the stove, his back to you, it’s hard to keep your feet under you. And without your permission, tears well up in your eyes so fast that a few drops are already sliding down your cheeks. You sniff to try and get a hold of yourself, which gets Atsumu’s attention.

He whips around to find you standing at the entryway of the hallway with tears streaking down your face and immediately his heart softens. “Happy anniversary, love,” he says by way of greeting.

You can’t stop yourself; your feet move before your brain can catch up with them, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight, and then your lips are on his, your fingers tangling into his hair pulling him closer as you slot your body against his. He can’t help chuckling at you, despite thoroughly enjoying this reaction to his surprise.

“I’m trying to cook breakfast,” he says between kisses.

You don’t think he’ll be very hard to convince to abandon the eggs on the stove. With one hand, you turn the burner off. “Don’t care,” you say, pushing him back towards the bedroom.

He happily obliges.

~

taglist:  @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie @oikawasbooty @chocolate3010 @sugawarabby @greenyiplier @kritiiiii @tokyosdawn @youstydiaa @h3llok1ttygirl @honeyapplepi @iminlovewhaikyuu @moonlightaangel @tetrapot-melon-tea @putmeinyourdeathnote @fireworkemoji102 @angrylittleriri @anime-simp @hxked @silverwhare @grandfestivalalienlight @waitforitillwritemywayout @tendo-sxtori @plxstic-rose @hqissodelicate @unknownloving @cielhidalgo @mattsunsoswag @yoitsseulgi @whenyouscream @cereal-kileeeeer @jackadlersstuff @oopsliales @sssjuico10 

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Sorry if this seems rude but can I ask why you use TikTok? I know it allows u to reach a different kind of audience with your posts but it seems like more stress than it's worth when ppl interact so negatively/the app itself blocks you for no reason. It just seems like a generally awful place to me lol

It's fine! It's not rude. I mean tbh, every app is awful lmao. I could use like candy crush and someone would still figure out how to call me a slur on it. It just comes with the territory of being a minority online.

It sucks yes, but there's some nice people on it that I know on there and some good creators and fun videos. There are some lovely sides of tiktok too, lots of small artists and shops, everything on native tiktok is wonderful. I have almost double the # of followers on tiktok than I do on tumblr, and its fun a lot of the time to make silly videos, or on the occasions i share something bad happening to me I get so many nice comments.

The app sucks, there are terrible people on it, but like, there's straight up no place I have online or irl where I don't have to deal with the things I do on tiktok.

One of the small things I like about tiktok is even though it 100% hurts my view count, I think it's important to make my videos and jokes where you can see me. I get so many comments from people who haven't seen niqabis, let alone lgbt niqabis, and I think, while small in the grand scheme of things, that letting people see a traditionally dressed niqabi enjoying themselves and making jokes is important. I often think of a while back, when a gif of me got a over a thousand notes, and one of the comments was that the commenter had never seen a niqabi just... being human, laughing at a joke they made. And I want to keep doing that, to keep showing the internet me. Maybe in the tinniest way, it will help humanize how some people see niqabis by me making silly videos in my niqab.

I know that's a bit existential and deep or w/e, and i mean definitely part of the reason im on tiktok is because it's just easy for my brain to fixate on and scroll through when I need mental stimulation lmao.

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

Clintasha Advent 2020 

Day two - Music 

(small trigger warning for brief mentions of red room abuse.) 

.

At first, Clint thinks Natasha just really, really likes music.

She is constantly listening to it- through the Bluetooth speakers she had bought for every safe house and apartment she had, through her laptop as she types away while doing research, through her headphones plugged into her cellphone. He even discovers she keeps a second pair of headphones in her pocket “just in case” the first pair dies or is somehow broken.

It doesn’t seem to matter what type of music, either. Her favorite seems to be rock, but he’s heard her playing everything from rock to country to EDM. Once he even caught her listening to the full soundtrack of Hamilton.  

He’s teased her about it several times since noticing it- poking at her and asking if she is making her own life soundtrack. But she’s never actually said much about the habit, usually just rolling her eyes or maybe flicking him off on particularly feisty days.

Sometimes it was annoying to constantly have her playing something, but it was easy enough to tune out and ignore. Usually.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Their mission had been hard and grueling, eleven days spent in the sweltering desert of Africa only to discover the intel had been bad at the last minute after engaging the leaders of the trafficking ring. There had been a casualty- an innocent bystander who had happened to wonder into the wrong place at the wrong place.

They’re sitting in the tiny room SHEILD had directed them to wait in while awaiting extraction. It’s nothing special- a small mattress on the floor tucked into a corner with some blankets thrown on, a Bunsen burner in the other corner, and a bathroom so small it might as well have been a coffin. All Clint wants to do is drift into thoughtless sleep, but Natasha has her headphones in, and she is blasting the music in them so loudly that she might as well have been playing it out loud on full volume.

He tosses a sock at her, hitting her square in the head from where she is sprawled out on the floor while writing a report. She glances up at him, an eyebrow raised in question.

“MUSIC TURN DOWN PLEASE” he signs at her. Using his voice would be useless right now.

She stares at him for a second, and then signs a simple “no” as she goes back to her writing.

Clint is slightly taken back at first. Sure, Natasha often ignores him on things, but he didn’t expect a struggle over some songs. But fine.

He pushes himself up from the mattress, leans in closer to his partner and yanks her headphones out of her ears. She makes a grab at them, but his reflexes are faster and he snaps away his hand, the headphone wire still attached to the phone and dragging it away from her.

“What the fuck, Clint?”

“Tasha, please. I just need some quiet for a couple of hours, okay?”

“Give them back.” She growls, eyes fixated on his hand where he is wrapping the cord around the phone.

“I will in a bit. But you need to get some sleep as well. You haven’t slept since-“

“I don’t care! What I need is my music back.”

Clint’s brows furrow at her voice, the slight panic creeping in and the faint hint of desperation in the word need. That’s weird. She had never referred to the constant music as a need before.

“You don’t need it,”

Natasha swipes at him for her phone, but he catches her wrist and holds her still, not allowing her to pull away from him. “Yes, I do.” She says, breath hitching. “You have no fucking idea.”

“You’re right, I don’t. So tell me.”

Natasha struggles slightly in his grip for another second, before giving in to the exhaustion and heat and slumping against the wall, head dropping into her hands. “It never stops.” She moves a hand up to grip at some of her hair. “I can always hear them. My trainer’s voice every time I do something wrong telling me how failure is unacceptable. My ballet teachers voices constantly critiquing my body and my form and how im holding myself. The screaming of the girls when punishments were happening. Ivan telling me how special”- she spits the word- “I am every time I make a kill. They’re always there, I don’t know how to make them stop.”

She looks up at him, making eye contact as the moisture in hers threatens to overflow. “And I can’t stop thinking how I betrayed my country. How many innocent people I’ve killed. How many lives I’ve destroyed and didn’t even care.”

“The thoughts never fucking stop and the only thing that works is drowning them out and I can’t do that if you won’t give me my phone.” There’s a slight hiccup in her voice, something Clint has never heard from her before. His chest aches as he listens to her and he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close into his side.

“Focus on me instead.”

“What?” She stares up at him as if he’s insane.

“Focus on me instead. The texture of my clothes, if they’re soft or rough or itchy. My scent, which is probably not the greatest, sorry about that- remind me to pack extra deodorant the next time they send us to a damn desert- or trace the scars on my arms some. Hey, and my voice. Here, listen.”

He holds her close and sets off on a tangent about anything and everything he can think off. He tells her all about the childhood dog they had had, the silly pranks he and his brother would play on each other, fun stories from his circus days. Eventually, when he runs out of stories to tell, he begins giving random opinions no one asked for. “Fuckin ping pong,” He snorts. “Who the hell came up with that name? They really couldn’t think of anything better than ping pong? Is that name racist? It feels like it might be a bit racist.”

He keeps talking and talking, even as Natasha’s breathe begins to even out and her body finally gives away to sleep against him. Some of the first silent moments between them since he had brought her to SHIELD so many months ago.

[asriel-dreemurr-instead-of-brain]

the obligatory asriel headcanon post

this is long lmao

- his nickname "azzy" is sometimes shortened to just "az"

- if you asked him his favorite color hed be like "uhh umm well i um i like yellow and red is a good color too and brown is also good and blue is very pretty and purple is nice and pink is also nice and green is cool and orange is-"

- he's the kid to take the piece of candy nobody else wants and not complain about it so that nobody else has to get the bad one

- hes an avid artist. he loves drawing so much. his favorite thing to draw is faces and hes really good at getting expression and demeanor. he has pages just full of random expressions. he also cant do anatomy for shit

- he sorts everything that he can by color. it's not like a strict color-coded system his stuff is just all lined up in a rainbow

- hes very excited for having horns and when they grow in hes really happy and excited

- he observes a lot about other people (and isnt fully aware that he does this). he acts quite lighthearted and silly but notices a lot about other people's behavior and internalizes it without really thinking about it

- he's really affectionate around people he cares about, he loves hugs and cuddles a lot

- he tries to very involved with as many things as he can to exhaust himself and prevent insomnia

- he really REALLY hates being unable to sleep and will have a meltdown over staying up an hour late. when he cant sleep he gets really restless and there's nothing distracting him from his thoughts, so he usually ends up either pacing around or desperately trying to find something to do

- he has pretty terrible nightmares consistently

- he never really gets angry, at most irritated, but if so, it's usually because he's overwhelmed and ends up apologizing immediately. "you could pour soup in my lap and i'd apologize to you" type, he doesn't see feeling anger at others as even an option in any situation

- he does a lot of writing, often poetry, to vent his compressed feelings and they usually end up being extremely dark and upsetting. he's often ashamed that he even wrote them so he usually tucks them away somewhere/throws them away and never reads them again

- when hes a bit older he LOVES horror games. he doesnt like talking about it because hes kinda embarrassed of having dark interests.

- more specifically he likes ddlc and is a sayori kinnie in denial ("i just think shes neat!!!") and also likes hello charlotte because. im highly fixated on hello charlotte and im projecting it onto him <3<3<3

- he also just likes rpgm games in general

- he's also into a lot of cartoons like atla

- he has so many OCs and hundreds of AUs for his own story

- he's very good at recognizing/distinguishing colors

- he's the kid who has those glow-up stars all over his side of the room. actually i think this is canon in deltarune but I'm pointing it out anyways because I can

- he's left handed. i think this is also canon bc in deltarune he uses a left handed mouse but shhh

- he experiences extremely intense emotions and the only way he can cope is to distract himself from them. he often gets emotional over small things but it's always in a "im so sorry i dunno why im crying-" way. he gets really sentimentally attached to things very quickly.

- when it comes to actually explaining or talking about his feelings he's genuinely unaware that there's a deeper problem because of how much he's internalized it

- he's trands gener because I Said So <3

- hes very sensitive. with friends he usually knows when he's being teased and will tease back but depending on how he's feeling/the context he might take it really hard

- he stims/fidgets a lot, he'll rub his fur back and forth, or he'll start bouncing, or he'll tug at his sweater or click pens, i have a LONG list of this stuff.

- he also can't really sit still, but it's not "noticeable" as it usually comes out as awkward movements and adjusting himself

- he likes to sing. hes a soprano (his voice is very high pitched)

- he can imitate other people's voices pretty well. not to the point where you can't tell the difference between his imitation and the real thing, but enough to make really funny impressions. he's also great at capturing people's overall demeanor

- when he's younger he really wants to play instruments but always gets frustrated and gives up, but as he gets older he learns to play ukulele and later on maybe guitar

- his wardrobe is full of sweaters, overalls, and t-shirts with star patterns on them

- he's........ok at naming things. the names are either extremely on the nose (*cough* flowey the flower) or very long and overdramatic (ABSOLUTE GOD OF HYPERDEATH!!!). he sorta takes after asgore

- he suffers from intrusive thoughts and feels terrible about them and doesnt know how to separate himself from the thoughts he has

- even though his parents are both really tall, he starts off as a lil shortie- he does end up getting taller than most humans but is still smal by goat fam standards <3

[bisexual-horror-fan]

hii idk how to word this but i cant stop thinking about how stu always has his tongue out😝 and its so long lmao its just so silly and cute and why does he drool too lol💀💀💀 i just wanted to know if u could write something about this bc im thinking about this 24/7😭❤️

HEY ANON!

YA GOT ME THINKING ABOUT STU’S MOUTH TOO SO HERE!

I wrote you a small drabble about this, more cute than dirty (-but it is me we are talking about so it is a little dirty.) I also tried to keep it kinda ambiguous on purpose. (Also sorry this took too long to get out but I had to do Tina’s birthday fic before this so it’d be done in time. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE!)

Stu Macher X GN Reader. Rating. None. Length. 600 words. Warnings: Stu being cute, oral fixation, oral sex mention.

Put That Away.

He has to know doesn’t he?

Like he HAS to, right?

What he does to you when he does that?

You were sitting across the room, it was quiet, everyone was focused on working, heads mostly down as they worked away and you should have been working yourself but you were too busy staring at him. 

Is it just physically impossible for him to keep his tongue in his mouth?

He just needs to put that thing away. It was criminal how it could make you feel when you were just watching him when he was unaware. 

Whenever his tongue was in his mouth it only seemed that way because something else was in mouth, in this case the end of his pencil, resting his head in one hand, eyes focused on the paper in front of him. You were staring too much.

He noticed you were looking, you looked away for a moment, slightly embarrassed you got caught staring so hard at him. You glanced back to see him still staring, dumb goofy grin that was so classically Stu on his face. He was still leaning on one hand and had taken his pencil out of his mouth, a small wave, pencil still between his fingers and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and giving a wave back. He was just too fucking cute for his own good.

His smile widened and mouthed to you, gesturing as he asked wordlessly to you,

“Lunch?”

You nodded in response. 

Yeah lunch together sounded great. 

Or it did.

Until right now.

"There a problem y/n?"

You grit your teeth and again were left wondering how he was so oblivious.

You lied.

"I'm fine."

You had such a terrible crush on him, and he was always so funny and again so cute. And then there was what he was doing right now. You wanted to ask and finally decided to.

"Do you have to eat it like that?"

"Like what?"

‘Like what?’ You thought, you wanted to parrot it back.

God he was insufferable sometimes. 

He was sitting across from you, just eating his lunch, right now he was eating vanilla pudding but he had ‘forgot’ a spoon so in his own words upon realizing it-

“Fuck it.”

And he was eating it with just his mouth or rather just his tongue. You didn’t need to be thinking about his tongue like this at lunch, at what it could be doing to you.

Friends.

You were just friends but you wanted so much more than that.

Did he know?

You weren't sure, you finally replied,

"Like an animal, you are making a mess."

He was smiling again, tongue out playfully, drool on his chin,

"Messy suits me don't ya think?"

You rolled your eyes and scooped up some napkins and held them out to him, unwilling to admit that it did, you would love to see a different kind of mess on his face. He took the napkins and you watched him wiped his face, the conversation turning to other things.

The thought of him coming up from in between your thighs, tongue still out, drool still on his chin along with much more wetness from you, his hands on your thighs, that still mischievously playful look in his eyes. 

You had to stop thinking like this. 

Messy did suit him though. 

A little too well.

[stargazing-enby]

Drarry prompt: "Well, that's a creative way to say hello..."

Thanks love!

Drarry, past Hinny | Teen and up | 1.2k words | Post-Hogwarts, Anxious Harry Potter, Smug Draco Malfoy | Read on AO3 | Read part 1 on Tumblr

This is a continuation of my one-shot An Enlightening Session.

***

It all happened in a flash. One second Harry was shouting Draco’s name across Diagon Alley, earning all kinds of looks from the people who were enjoying the sunny day in the streets, and the next he was tripping and crashing against Draco with a gasp.

He wanted to check what the heck he’d tripped over, but was distracted by a cold, slimy feeling spreading all over his chest. “Ew, what…?” He tried to put some space between Draco and him, but his legs were not cooperating. Luckily, Draco grasped his forearms and steadied them both.

“My ice cream, that’s what,” Draco deadpanned, looking far too composed for a man whose robes were all covered in blue goo. “That was a creative way to say hello, I’ll give you that. Do try not to ruin my dessert next time, though. It was my favourite flavour.”

Harry took a step back, pulling his soaked shirt away from his chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “The Ministry should really start fining people for littering…”

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry’s lame excuse, then reached for his wand and cleaned both their clothes with a swish, saying, “So what did you want? I hope it was worth the ice cream.”

“Uh… well, not really,” Harry mumbled. “Just — you know, to catch up.”

“Harry Potter catching up? Please. You wouldn’t do that if we hadn’t seen each other in months, and we had coffee together just last Saturday.”

Harry clenched his fists to keep his hands from playing with the hems of his shirt. “Yeah, coffee,” he quickly corrected himself. “That’s what I meant. We should have coffee.”

“Right now?” Draco chuckled.

“If you’re free.”

Draco shook his head. “Whatever it is just spit it, Potter. Preferably while walking — I’d like to buy a few books before Flourish and Blotts closes today. And yes, silly, we can have coffee afterwards.”

“Okay. Cool.” Everything is cool. Just tell him already. As they started walking, Harry braced himself. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists and said,  "Do you… do you know that feeling of not wanting to get into the shower? But when you finally do, you’d do anything to stay there forever? Like, you just feel so warm and calm that even though you’re wasting water and it’s probably a bad idea to stay five more minutes you just do it, because how the hell are you supposed to make sensible decisions when you’re feeling so fucking good?”

“Potter,” Draco said, a small, curious smirk playing at the corners of his lips, “What are you trying to tell me, you babbling nincompoop?”

“That… um.” Fuck. All the courage, all the ache and desperation that had been consuming him since his conversation with Jane, were rapidly abandoning him, and he swallowed. “That you’re — you’re sort of like… like a warm shower. Like finally taking that warm shower when I was too tired to move from my bed. I guess. If that makes sense.”

It doesn’t. Harry, you idiot, what are you even sa—

“Of course it does.” Draco raised his chin with a grin. “But you didn’t need that many words just to tell me I’m hot. I already knew that.”

Harry spluttered, his skin suddenly burning. “That was not—”

“Relax, you idiot,” Draco said lightly, “I know.”

Harry huffed. “Arsehole.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds, then Draco asked, “So, I’m like a warm shower, right? Does that mean I’m a guilty pleasure or that I’m an annoying necessity then?”

“Ugh, can’t we just forget I said all that?”

Draco huffed. “You wish.”

“Oi, stop throwing my own words at me!” Harry pinched him, and Draco giggled and elbowed him in the ribs.

“It’s not my fault you were such a drama queen as a kid!”

“Oh, I was the drama queen?”

“Absolutely,” Draco said solemnly. “Though I must admit, it was quite charming at times.”

“Shut up, you twat.” Harry suddenly felt like his heart was on fire. They’d stopped walking, and he realised they were at Flourish and Blott’s — except right behind the shop, in a narrow alley that was deserted except for a tabby cat that was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Okay,” Draco said, his voice soft but confident. “I’ll shut up if you really want me to.”

Harry’s breath caught when warm fingers brushed his. The touch was tender, but it felt piercing, and like a hot wave of something crashing against him.

“Draco.” The name fell from his lips, breathless, panicky. “You don’t want to do that,” he urged, pulling away from the caress. “The reason I wanted to talk to you today—”

“I know.”

That cut Harry’s verbal incontinence short.

“You — know.”

“Duh.” Even though Harry couldn’t move — couldn’t face Draco as his mind reeled trying to gather the meaning of those words — Draco reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers with a strong grasp. “You’ve never been particularly good at hiding your feelings toward me, whatever their nature,” Draco said, so casually Harry almost wanted to laugh. “Pining suits you, by the way. You’re really cute when you’re flustered.”

Harry stared at nothing, his eyes fixated on the shape of a rock on the wall beside them. His hand felt sweaty, but he didn’t have it in him to pull away. “Why… why didn’t you—”

“Don’t be an idiot. How long has it been since you and Ginny broke up?”

“Uh… about two months now?”

“Exactly,” Draco said. “I didn’t want you… I didn’t want us to rush into anything, Harry. I didn’t want to be that person to you.”

“Then — then why are you holding my hand?”

Draco finally faced him, looking oddly relaxed. And smug, the little shit. “Because you wouldn’t come mumbling and stuttering about it if you weren’t ready to take a step.”

“Oh.” Harry felt a grin pull at his lips. “So... You like me.”

Draco let out a breathless laugh. “I do. Don’t ask me why. I happen to have a very embarrassing weakness for charming idiots.”

Harry bit his lip. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. Draco seemed completely unfazed by the invasion of his personal space, and in fact smiled a little bit wider when Harry gently rested his hands around his arms.

Could he kiss Draco? Could that actually happen? After everything he’d gone through, after almost convincing himself Draco would always remain out of reach, could he really…?

His body leaned forward on his own accord. His heart jumped, his eyes fell closed, and then—

And then there was a hand on his chest, holding him back.

He opened his eyes to a slightly flustered, yet still way too smug Draco.

“I don’t kiss before first dates,” he declared.

“What? What did you bring me to a deserted alley for, then?” Draco smirked, and Harry pushed him playfully on the chest. “You bloody tease!”

“Books, Potter. Then coffee. Then we can go somewhere nice and comfy that doesn’t smell like cat pee and you can show me exactly how much you love me.”

Before Harry could protest, Draco took his hand and walked them back to the busy street.

[mysticmikalla]

Dear GodMikalla, please hear me! Jumin and Unknown (feel free to add others if you're up to it ≖ᴗ≖ ) misunderstanding that MC is cheating on them?? *scandalized gasp* thanks

I hear you! First request for Unknown :o  I’m not sure if this is for Dark!Saeran or Unknown from Casual and Deep story, but I’ll write it as Unknown from CS! 

I feel like im always apologizing for making these hcs too damn long so I’ll just…accept the fact that I can’t write short hcs :/

anyway i hope yall enjoy!

***

Jumin

If you had told him two years ago that another person could mess with his head like this, he’d quietly chuckle and shake it off, thinking how utterly pathetic is was to allow someone else to control them 

He used to foolishly believe he was in charge of his own emotions, feeling only what he wanted to feel

But as he sat on the living room couch, alone and wondering where you disappeared to every Thursday evening, he realized that he could not have been more wrong

He felt as if he was going to be sick

Jumin’s heart dropped and bile pooled in his stomach whenever you could come home late and blatantly lie about your whereabouts

He had never been particularly attentive towards people’s emotions, but goddammit, he could read yours as if they were his favorite book

With each lie that rolled of your tongue, Jumin felt sicker

His mind ran through the worst case scenarios a million times; they all featured you with someone else, gasping and moaning an unfamiliar name as you had previously done only for him

He had witnessed it many times, wondering why people would stay in a relationship that no longer made them happy, but now he understood

The business man couldn’t bring himself to confront you about it in fear that you confirmed his darkest thoughts

Not wanting to disrupt things, he let these thoughts eat him from the inside, allowing them to make him grow weaker and affect nearly every single aspect of his life, especially his work productivity

He couldn’t even find it in him to touch you, despite wanting to claim you as his once more

What if you called someone else’s name instead of his?

This dragged on for a few weeks, until finally he couldn’t think about anything but your face, flushed with pleasure under someone else, and he could feel it start driving him insane 

So that’s what brought him to sit on the living couch on a Thursday night, waiting for you to get home

Not the wine or his precious cat could ease his mind as he tapped impatiently on the arm rest, watching the minutes tick by

He wasn’t sure if his stomach fluttered with relief or concern when you finally showed up, wearing exactly what you had in the afternoon, only your attire seemed to be a little messier 

“Hey,” you greeted your fiancé, “You’re up late.”

He didn’t reply

His eyes were fixated on your untucked shirt tail, his heart clenching at the sight 

“What were you doing?” You asked, hanging your jacket on the hanger by the door

Standing up, he slowly made his way towards you, “I could ask you the same thing,” He towered over your much smaller frame, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, “What were you doing out so late?”

You didn’t hesitate or stutter when you gave him your answer, but he knew you were lying

He knew that you were, in fact, not out jogging with your friend. Not when there was a huge indoor gym at the penthouse, and not when he had called said friend who confirmed you weren’t with them

“Please don’t lie to me,” he begged in a murmur, pulling you in for a hug and burying his face in your hair, “You smell like cologne.”

“Jumin-”

“Please don’t lie to me, MC.” He repeated, and  you could detect a small falter in his voice

“I told you, I was out with-”

“Then why did they tell me they had no idea where you were, just a few minutes ago?” He was weak when it came to you. Years of learning self-control were wasted as he felt a sting in the corner of his eye, the smell of sweat mingling with cologne was toxic to the raven-haired man as he hugged you tighter

“Jumin, hold on. I can’t breathe,” you pulled away, looking up at your husband’s troubled face, “You called my friend?”

“Yes,” He admitted, “Why are you lying to me?”

“I-”

“Who are you sneaking around with behind my back?” He dropped his hands from your cheek, the words being said out loud making his thoughts a reality

“What are you saying?” You frowned. His accusation felt like a cold slap to your face

“MC…Who are you cheating on me with?” He held your gaze, such conviction lingering in those dark eyes of his that you were forced to look away

Jumin took that as a confession of guilt, and his own gaze dropping when he felt the punch of betrayal hit him deep in the gut

Those seconds before you spoke again were easily the most agonizing he had ever experienced, and more than anything he wished to be the man devoid of emotions everyone claimed he was

Being heartless was sure as hell easier than having one ripped away

“I’m not-I’m not cheating on you!” You stuttered, taking a step forward and taking your hand in his. He didn’t pull back, hating himself for relishing the warmth of your tiny hands in his larger ones, “Hey, look at me. Why would you think that?”

“I’m no fool, MC,” He seethed, “You’re  sneaking off and refuse to tell me where to, you’ve been lying to me even though we promised to always be honest with each other,” He squeezed your hand, “You come home late smelling like another man.”

As you took in his words, your chest eased and a graduate smile filled your lips

“I can’t understand why you would smile right now.”

Cupping his cheek, you told him “Dance lessons.”

“What?”

You caressed his cheek with your thumb, noting how unusually fragile he looked under your touch, “I’ve been taking dance lessons to prepare for our wedding.”

“Mc,” He breathed, “What are you-Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” You laughed, “I’ll never forget how you limped for days after the first RFA party, I’d be mortified if I did that during our first dance as your wife.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed when your words sunk in and the wave of relief washed over him

All the worries and cruel thoughts he convinced himself of  your infidelity with seemed so silly now, and of course you wouldn’t ever do anything like that

He pulled you in his arms again, a deep sigh he felt he had been holding in for weeks now escaping his lips, “You don’t understand-” He murmured, “You can’t understand how worried I was.”

You nuzzled into his chest, “You know I would never-”

“I know, my love, and I’m sorry I accused you,” he said, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you finding someone else, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you softened, “I probably really did look suspicious, huh?”

“I may have overreacted,” he kissed the top of your head, “But, please…no more surprises, okay?”

“No more surprises.” You agreed

Unknown

He was fucking furious

It didn’t come much as a surprise to you when he barged in, eyes frantically scanning the room until they met with yours

You merely raised an eyebrow at your lover, wondering what would have ticked him off this time

The first few months with him felt like Russian Roulette, what sent him off the edge one day could make him fall into a fit of laughter the next

His emotions were so volatile, it was often hard to tell what he was thinking

But by now you were used to his tantrums, and you knew exactly how to soothe him

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” He fumed, taking long strides towards you. You tilted your head, replaying all your recent interactions to pinpoint exactly what was troubling him

He smacked down a picture on the table in front of you with such force, you instinctively took his hand in yours to see if they were hurt

But as if your touch burned him, he shook you off before you could check, nodding towards the photo

“Explain that.”

The picture was nothing more than a low-quality CCTV capture of you embracing a man outside his apartment, his back to the camera and a smile plastered on your face

“What am I supposed to be explaining, exactly?”

He laughed bitterly, “Hm, I don’t know, how about…The fact that you were with another man late last night when you were suppose to be with me? Or the fact that I literally just caught you touching him the way you’re only supposed to touch me?”

“Saeran-” You reached for him but he took a step away from you

“I don’t even want to hear your excuses,” he threw his arms up, “I just wanted you to know that I know, and that I’m fucking done.”

He stormed out of the room before you could defend yourself, leaving you and your sunken heart alone

Saeran wouldn’t answer your calls or return your texts, and since he practically knew of your whereabouts at all times, avoiding you was easy

It had been four days, the longest you two had been without seeing each other since you got together, and what you had first dismissed as one of his usual tantrums now flooded your mind with worry

To you, it was ridiculous that he’d get that angry over something so petty, but you knew his mind. You knew how utterly insecure he was despite the confident persona, and fear that he would do something stupid haunted you into sleepless nights

Your heart contracted painfully in your chest as you replayed the look of betrayal and hurt in his eyes, wishing there something you could do to rid him of such emotions

Groaning, you hung up before his voice mail message could play for the hundredth time 

You were positive he had either blocked you or deleted your number, because if only he read your texts or listened to your pleas, he’d understand 

“Saeran, come on!” You whined to your phone, tossing it on your bed in a fit of frustration

You slumped in your seat, wondering how you could get a hold of someone so untouchable 

“Unbelievable.” You muttered to yourself, glancing aimlessly around the room

Your eyes were met with the tiny camera he had installed-after lots and lots of arguing- for your protection

One look at that camera and you knew, you knew he was watching

It was as if you could feel his gaze burning into you through the lenses, so you grabbed a pen and scribbled on some paper

Saeran watched with confusion as you waved at the camera, furious at himself that he couldn’t seem to take his eye off you for even a second ever since he stormed off

You pointed at the paper, knowing that the footage didn’t capture audio

‘WATCH THE REST OF THE FOOTAGE, YOU DUMB HACKER’

He rolled his eyes, how dared you call him dumb when you were clearly in the wrong?

How fucking dared you even try to explain yourself when he had caught you so shamelessly deceiving him?

Nonetheless, he replayed the footage of you walking with the mysterious man he already despised 

Why were you telling him to watch it again? Were you purposely trying to hurt him? Was this payback for the way he treated  you  at the beginning of your relationship? Were you trying-oh

As he watched you and the man cut off the embrace, his seething anger turned into embarrassment when the man walked away, finally facing the camera where he could identify him

He glanced over the live CCTV footage of you in your room, where you held up another sign

‘THAT’S MY FATHER’

It was him now who slumped back in his chair, overwhelming relief coming out as a laugh

Running a hand through his hair, he cursed under his breath, “Goddammit.”

He mustered the courage to call you back, watching the CCTV as you picked up instantly

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asked oh-so-innocently

“Assuming the worst all the time,” You huffed, “Have some more faith in me!”

“I can’t help it,” he shrugged, putting his feet up on the desk and leaning further into his chair, “It’s how you rid yourself of disappointment.”

“That’s not true,” he could see you frown, “And you gotta start giving yourself some more credit. I’d have to be dumb to cheat on a hacker like you.”

“You are.”

“Just,” you laughed, pinching the bridge of your nose and ignoring his remark, “Get over here already, okay?”

“I’m busy.”

He didn’t even have to glance at the screen to know your eyes rolled back, “Stop playing so hard to get, I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, you hung up, hoping that he’d show despite your confident words that he would

But, Goddammit, it was a no-brainer

Of course he’d show

[bxebxee]

ok and i know yr on break so dont feel pressured to answer or anything!! and im sorry for writing a whole novel in yr inbox, i was trying to figure out how they might build up to actual penetrative sex and i got rlly invested 😳

omg do you know how much i love you!!!!!! I hope EVERYONE clicks on the read more because you are the best anon!!!!! I bolded and underlined my favorite bits and wrote a tiny thing at the end because you’re the BEST. I haven’t felt this rush-inspired in such a long time!!! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!

x

x

x

becky i was thinking ab yr nj humiliation drafts ([one] [two] [three] [four] [five] [six]) and how they might progress and i started thinking ab rope bondage and how at first she was too nervous to touch him but once she gets more comfortable its all she wants to do!! but hes worried bc of how restrained/repressed shes been in the past and to keep her from jumping the gun he starts tieing her up?? (1/5)

and its small things at first like restraining her hands behind her back so she wont touch him or herself while he makes himself cum (and then maybe if shes good and doesnt complain he’ll let her ride his fingers to get off, hers still tied behind her back. or if hes feeling mean he makes her grind herself against a pillow or the arm of his couch while he watches) (2/5)

and some mornings he’ll have her come over and strip so he can tie her up and then redress over the knots and spend the rest of the day like that under her clothes (esp patterns where the ropes pull straight up between her legs) and when he takes them off at the end of the day and hes rubbing her down where the skin mightve chaffed shes way more affected than she thought she’d be and comes untouched? (3/5)

and then one day when they both have a free day he spiral ties her legs and restrains her arms behind her and then after he makes sure shes comfortable and knows her limits he just- leans back on the bed and starts reading his book like she isnt tied up and at his mercy right next to him? (4/5)

and when he finally puts down his book after what feels like forever instead of doing anything right away he throws back to how this all started and tells her if she wants him to touch her tonight shes going to have to tell him exactly what she wants from him in excruciating detail. and before she can even think about it, this barely coherent, desperate plea for him to just fuck her escapes. and then after shes calmed down and can speak properly he does exactly as she asks. (5/5)

x

x

x

You’re nearly in tears when Namjoon puts his book down - finally, fucking finally. You hate crying in front of anyone because there’s always so much snot that goes into production. It’s the furthest thing from pretty or ladylike or decent. You don’t want to show Namjoon that side of you just yet.

There is an ache that’s been building at your core for quite some time that’s exacerbated by the numbness you feel at your legs and hands. It’s not the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but people have a tendency to overlook the importance of fidgeting in every day life. You know that you certainly didn’t know how much you missed simple movement until Namjoon tied you up and allowed you to “relax” for a hot second.

At first it felt fine - good even. He asked you a million questions about your comfort, and it just felt like you were laying down. And you might have been able sleep were it not for the itch on your nose that bloomed unexpectedly.

It’s the small things in life that set you off, and fixation over a small itch made you desire free hands like nothing else. The only way you could get over it was to focus on Namjoon reading silently at his desk, feet propped up as he concentrated on the book before him.

He looked so good, so perfect - all long limbs and careless expression of height for no reason. His fingers turned a page and your mouth went dry. You had never been jealous of paper before in your life.

You could have begged him to scratch your nose for you, but it seemed like such a silly reason to interrupt his reading. And it wasn’t until he made eye contact that you were pushed into some weird territory of desire. But Namjoon didn’t stop reading. You knew he was actively absorbing whatever it was he was reading because he had his literature face on - scrunched eyebrows that moved expressively as he took in the text.

Your boyfriend is a pervert, but so are you. By the time your mind has sent you to and from four different fantasy trips, each involving Namjoon’s pretty cock, your lips are dry from sucking in too much air. It’s a sharp contrast to the way your panties feel.

He puts his book down, and your heart races.

“You’re so obvious,” he says, eyes dripping with fondness.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you tell him, sincere and horny. “I want you so bad.”

And Namjoon is overjoyed really, and so, so proud that you’ve come this far. You admit things to him, but more importantly, to yourself without shame. You’re the same woman he met, but he’s pretty sure you’re a bit happier.

Namjoon pushes because that’s what he’s good at.

“I can tell,” he replies, undoing a few buttons of his shirt. He’s about ninety-nine percent sure he’s going to make you cum tonight. “But I’m not going to touch you until you’re more specific.”

You moan, biting your lip as your arousal grinds a heavy ax on your core.

“You need to tell me every, little detail,” Namjoon orders, “or I’m not doing anything.”

It’s excruciating the way you open your lips for nothing to come out. Speak, your mind begs. You’ve just had four delicious fantasies for material, and yet there’s a disconnect between your mind and your mouth. All you can think about is the lump in his pants covering his cock, and the way that cock felt in your dreams.

And you’ve done everything with him except actual, vaginal, penetrative sex. Namjoon makes your jaw hurt and your throat raw whenever you suck at him, and not a day goes by when you don’t think about how sore your vagina would feel with him stretching you out. Just two of his fingers feel like the end of the world for you.

Despite your reservations about penetration, you want to experience it. You want Namjoon to experience it. You’ve watched so much porn together - you seated on his lap with one of his long fingers shoved up your pussy while the two of you viewed some girl getting pounded by a well-endowed man. Every time you pictured Namjoon would one day try fucking you just like that.

A whine escapes your throat as the images are too clear in your mind. Namjoon has you face down on the bed in your fantasy, spreading apart your asscheeks with two hands to scrutinize your holes. He’s picking one to fuck and settles on rubbing his cock against your filthy slit weeping with arousal.

Namjoon in real life is patient as he sees you working up the courage. You waited for him as he read, and he could most certainly wait for you.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, and the expletive sounds like a gunshot even though your tone is softer than feathers. You close your eyes. “F-fuck me… ngh.” And in your head, the fantasy of Namjoon sinking in and using you until he’s satisfied play out again and again until the only things that come out of your mouth are sad little begs.

Namjoon still waits, taking in the show you’re putting on for him because it’s not every day you fantasize about him right in front of his eyes. He likes to watch you think things through.

You take long, shuttering gasps of air to calm the fuck down because you need to talk if any of this had a snowball’s chance in hell of coming true. And after some tens of seconds go by where the only thing you do is think of absolutely nothing, you are finally able to open your eyes and dislodge the stopper between brain and mouth.

“I wish you would untie me first,” you start. It’s not a question or a request. “Then undress me. Undress yourself. Touch me.”

“Slow down,” Namjoon chuckles. “You’re skipping all the good stuff.”

“All I want is for you to spread me open with those big hands of yours and shove your cock in whatever hole you want,” you continue as if he never said anything. You didn’t care about going through what he wanted because this is your fantasy, and he’s just here for the ride.

“Keep going.”

Good, you think. Namjoon is playing along.

“You’re going to choose my pussy.”

“Interesting that I have no say in my own choice.”

“Shut up.”

Namjoon’s heart seems to stutter in its beating, and he can tell you’re also surprised by your own outburst. He’s almost scared that you’re going to backtrack and take it back, because you were doing so good so far.

“Um,” you pause, “yeah… shut up.”

He can’t help but to smile when you forge ahead, and he zips his lips like the obedient boyfriend he wants to be for you.

“You go in slow just to test me. First the tip to see if I can take it at all. And then you push right in even though it feels like I’m going to spit you out.”

This is exhilarating. Your mind provides words for you easily, as if you’re lying down in bed with your phone in hand typing out something naughty for Namjoon. It feels just like that moment of freedom, and you relish it.

“You don’t go slow,” you say with a laugh. “You’re fucking me for you.”

“Stop right there,” Namjoon interrupts. “I’m going to untie you.”

“Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to remove the ties and toss them off the bed. He massages your arms and legs to help with the circulation and holds you as you shake from the pins and needles shooting its unpleasantness up and down your body.

“Is it going to be tonight?” Namjoon asks. “Because we don’t have to.”

You smile, a little teary because the pain was real after the ties were loosened. “I really want it to be tonight.”

Namjoon kisses your forehead.

“Okay.”

[taeverie]

Loved You Then

Synopsis: After years of being apart Jaehyung comes back to voice his feelings, but there was another event that held him back when he reunited with you.

Pairing: Jaehyung x reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word Count: 2769

A/N: another re-upload, but for my one and only day6 fic hahaha

You were eighteen when Jaehyung bidded goodbye to you in the summer; he gifted an envelope that held an inked correspondence with a simple trinket inside.

You remember that day almost too perfectly: He insisted that you would not open the poorly sealed sleeve until you were inside your vehicle, pure intentions to keep the contents a secret until then. It was not a tearful goodbye, sentiments were not dilapidated — rather, the feeling was almost refreshing.

You had known Jaehyung since you were young, being neighbors and stuck in each other’s classes since elementary swirled an ineffable friendship and a perceptible closeness. It started with a smile, a strange greeting that was paired with an effervescent laugh. You mirrored that same expression back that one mid-spring day, glamour gracing your face as you introduced yourself to him, sheepish and quiescent.

He looked at you, hesitant before replying. Though, when he did, you knew that he would have a significant role in your life.

And so he did.

As years stacked upon each other, days being wasted by walking to school together, creating jests in class, and making each other’s way back was somehow just enough for a stable friendship to form. You two stuck together like a being and its penumbra, constantly shadowing each other to poke silly jests or snap mindless comments towards each other’s mistakes.

Recalling the memories while you sat in the backseat of your car drew a small smile to your face, every fraction of the reminiscence appearing ephemeral the more you attempted to rise it to the surface. Episodes of you and Jaehyung engaging in a silent redamancy flashed in your mind: being alone together on holidays, his annoying aubades he would sing to wake you up in the morning, even to the smallest bits like when you both experienced a plethora of sleepless nights to talk about pointless things.

All in all, the admirable sentiment was evocative — one would of had to be blind to overpass the comely connection shared between you and Jaehyung.

But as limpid the raw intimacy was, nothing changed between you two. There were no proper dates, no surprising gifts — everything remained stagnant. All because you and Jaehyung kept each other’s thoughts at bay, afraid to disrupt the equanimous friendship that took years to construct.

Regret rained down on your being that day when you formally parted from him, kissing goodbye to the city and not your childhood love, but as you were being driven away by your parents in the back of the vehicle, it was already too late.

You remember it clearly: how you sat in the backseat that day wishing that the seats would engulf your tearful being. At that point anything would have felt better than the void in your stomach created by the one who would typically fill it. Your world was like a picturesque halcyon, a state of jocularity that you were able to share with him.

But it became nothing.

You recall staring down at the silly letter, tears seeping into the paper as you were no longer able to hold back such withering emotions. You ran your fingertips over the surface, unable to bring yourself to rip it open and reveal its contents. It took a couple of deep breaths to calm your nerves, but you finally did.

Inside the packed paper rested a letter and a necklace — his necklace of a miniature acoustic guitar similar to the one he carried like a talisman. You gawked at the matching jewelry, intransigent and unsure of what to think. Aside from the extensive amount of memories and mere snapshots of each other, you had something from him, puzzled on why.

That was, until you unfolded the letter.

Every ounce of weight that had piled on was alleviated off your shoulders when you read four simple words; a promise established in blue ink:

“Until we meet again.”

–

There is one day left before the start of Spring. Your world has never ran jejune for a second, felicit air sempiternal since your arrival into the new city.

You wake to the melodious chirps of the birds outside your apartment window, a peaceful tune that is a stark contrast to your typical blares of your alarm clock. As long as you have been living in the fresh city for four years, it still feels new to you. You groan, arm sailing to the bed stand to grab onto your phone, groggy. A scintilla of light streaks on your face when you flutter your eyes open, the illumination more unpleasant to your eyes than the brightness of your screen.

You squint your eyes as an attempt to focus your vision, trying to read the time — only to find out that you are an hour late for your breakfast date. You yank your blankets off your bed and raise yourself up quickly, eyes flaring wide when your mind finally catches up to the situation.

Your thumbs race over the screen of your phone, rapidly sending the first message.

[10:02 AM] You: are you up?

You purse your lips into a pout, anticipating an angry response but within seconds you retrieve the opposite.

[10:03 AM] My angel: Of course. Ive been waiting for you to wake up for an hour!! Way to stand me up

You smile at his message, the slight humor the same as always.

[10:03 AM] My angel: haha, i’m sorry. i forgot to set my alarm but at least i slept some more for once

[10:04 AM] My angel: Im joking :)

[10:04 AM] My angel: Still down for breakfast?

[10:05 AM] You: brunch*

[10:05 AM] My angel: Ill take that as a yes

[10:05 AM] You: same spot? you always order the same stupid chicken and waffles

[10:06 AM] My angel: You already know me, haha. Those are delicious too!! Ill see you in twenty?

[10:06 AM] You: thirty*

[10:06 AM] My angel: <3

You pull yourself out of bed, yawning and stretching prior to creating a cup of coffee. Your apartment is as quiet as ever as you walk through it, the only dull sound being your soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. As the liquid seeps into the glass pot you wait patiently, eyes still struggling to keep themselves open; that is, until you finally pour yourself a cup and down it.

The effect is enlivening, traces of fatigue being drawn out of your body as you prepare to get ready.

It is a typical Tuesday morning; nothing too out of the blue or disturbing, just like every other. The sun appears at its peak despite it barely being ten, and your body is quite the opposite. Desultory, you dress yourself and constantly check the time on your phone to see if you are somehow running late.

Within moments you are out the door, on time to meet up with your boyfriend just as promised. The streets are vast, cars barely adorning the streets as you walk by. It feels as if the sun peeping out in the sky is only a decoy, for the chill breeze practically overtakes every hint of heat — so much for summer.

It does not take long for you to arrive at the location: a dingy diner that juxtaposes with the modern architect of the town. Despite its antique exterior, within the confinements of the restaurants radiates sentiments of joy that come in the form of a simple breakfast plate, or even the muted tunes that emit from the speakers.

You stride onto the checkered tiles of the perimeter, the redolence of sweet syrup and fresh coffee swirling together in the air. Seating yourself, you situate yourself at the corner booth — the signature area for you and your boyfriend since the first date — and peruse the menu. It is a first that you arrive prior to your boyfriend; he usually takes punctuality quite seriously.

You cross your ankles as you skim the options, words not sinking in your mind — you are going to be ordering the same breakfast meal anyway. A few more people flood inside and out of the diner, none of them being your awaited partner, and you release a sigh.

Setting down the menu, your eyes fixate on the entrance of the door hoping that with every swing your boyfriend would be the one to waltz past it. You try to focus on the tunes as you wait for him and the waiter, but the thoughts of him arriving keep poking the back of your mind. It is not until you release another sigh for you to realize that there is a shadow being casted over you. You turn your head towards the cause and your heart almost leaps to your throat

Standing beside your signature table is not the same man that you constantly visit the diner; a familiar face, but one you have not seen in years.

And it takes you by surprise entirely.

Your eyes flare wide, two orbs like blown glass the more your mind refuses to fathom who is standing before you.

From the round glasses the summer blonde hair, skin gently kissed by the heavenly sun, you recognize him within a heartbeat. It takes a couple of moments for your mind to comprehend, but everything appears to fall into place the second he flashes that same signature grin.

It is not your boyfriend standing by the table — not the man you have been waiting for — but it is none other than Jaehyung.

You are rendered speechless, sentences lodged in your throat and the few that make it past has the words dissipating on your tongue. After all, what are you supposed to do when you have an accidental encounter with your childhood friend? Communication with Jaehyung came to a standstill two years ago, the routine of texting each other frequently easing away; it did not take long for, even the most diminutive of, conversations to vanish entirely.

Looking at him, those same eyes that always fill with wonder, your thoughts become a whirlwind and you cannot make a simple attempt to break the silence that is being shared. The music in the diner along with the constant chatter withers to white noise, providing you with a feel that you and Jaehyung are the only two people in the diner.

“I,” you begin, surprised. “Jaehyung?” you say his name, unsure.

He blinks twice, mind just as dazed as your own. “Y-yeah… Y/N, it’s been a while.” He smiles brighter, a look of assurance.

“What are you doing here?” you ask while urging him to sit down with you.

He accepts the offer and situates himself right across from you, fingers interlacing on the surface. “I was just in the area, I didn’t think I’d see you here.” He corrects himself, “Actually, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

His words leave his mouth easily, a polar opposite to how you are unable to articulate your thoughts. You nod, paying attention more to the changes in his appearance than the depth of his words. “I didn’t think so either.”

His smile never falters, pearly whites still gleaming your way. “But… wow. You look different,” he comments, lighthearted.

You laugh. “I can say the same about you.”

“So,” he changes the subject, “how have you been?”

You hum, taking a moment to think. “Great,” you tell him. “Better because I’m getting my breakfast soon especially. What about you?”

“Good,” he responds, immediate. The waiter stops by and fills the empty mugs on the table with coffee, which are quickly followed with a small glass of water. The worker leaves and the conversation resumes like normal. “I’m still working on music and such.”

“That’s great to hear.” You smile. You avert your eyes from his own to look out the window; not in search of your boyfriend, and not as a distraction to shift from the situation, but to collect your thoughts briefly. “Hey,” you turn your attention to him, recalling a significant factor. “Do you still have your tiny guitar charm? The one that matches with what you gave me the day I left.”

Jaehyung appears taken aback, surprised at how you remember such a small item. “Why?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you still wear it?” he questions, light hearted as if he expects the answer to be a “no.”

Instead, you reach for the long string around your neck, the item hidden by your clothing. You tug it out into the open, showing it off to your friend and on the spot, his smile dwindles. “I said I would never take it off,” you inform.

Jaehyung laughs, content. He sails his hands to his pockets, ready to pull out his keychain as he says, “Funny, because I actually—”

“—Y/N!” someone interrupts. You raise your eyebrows at the calling, head turning when you recognize the voice. Jaehyung halts, blood in his body practically freezing.

“Younghyun!” you say, recognizing the face. “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for a long time.”

Younghyun chuckles and plants a light kiss on your cheek when he sits himself next to you. “Sure you were,” he comments. His attention drifts to the man across from him, unfamiliar and a tad awkward. “Who is this?”

“Ah.” You chime, “This is Jaehyung. He’s the friend I told you about back when I lived in the small city.”

“Oh,” he hesitates, unsure thoughts crossing his mind, “I’m Younghyun, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jaehyung only nods at him, a tight smile etching on his face — his version of saying hello to someone a little unwanted for the time being,

“Jae,” you call. “This is my boyfriend, Younghyun.”

“B-boyfriend?” Jaehyung says lowly, swallowing his breath. He rests his palms on his lap, cancelling the action to pull out his keys. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

But by the time he voices his “hello,” it feels as if he is not wanted in the situation, for you are already far too engaged in a heated stare with Younghyun. Jaehyung cannot pull himself to speak, his tongue running as dry as sand the more he lingers in your presence.

He discreetly watches the way Younghyun takes your hand in his, fingers interlaced, and Jaehyung cannot help but wonder what it would be like if he was in your position — if he was the one to hold you lovingly and have these breakfast dates with you frequently.

It isn’t until he clears his throat and uncomfortably shifts in his seat for him to gain your attention again. You force a smile, remember the earlier conversation. “So, what were saying about the charm?”

“Nothing much,” he fibs, hands balling into fists on his lap. There is a long line of silence shared between you two, a quietude that strangers experience with one another. Younghyun quirks the corner of his lips up, taking note of the situation and he tries to diminish his presence.

Jaehyung continues, “I was just going to say that I lost mine a long time ago.”

Your smile fades at the words you thought you would never hear. He broke the small news so easily, and with a slight chuckle — almost as if the charm had no relevance to begin with, like it was never a silent promise for a reunion. This time, you are frozen and left on the edge of unsure thoughts.

“I should go,” Jaehyung tells you. “Music calls.”

But before you can tell him goodbye, he lifts himself from the seat and starts to amble to the exit. You watch his physique quickly saunter, like the moment shared between you two was toxic, and he turns to do a small wave.

You wave back and Younghyun grips harder onto your hand, a small sign to let you know that everything is okay — whatever everything is.

As Jaehyung is a foot out the door he glances one last time at you at the corner table, catching your fetching grin by someone else’s side — someone that is not him. He smiles to himself, happy to see you are well, and slips out his car keys from the depths of his pocket.

He gawks at it for a little, adoring the matching acoustic guitar that dangles on its chain. After all, he said he would never lose it — the item that promised a reunion, a chance to tell you that throughout all the years, he loved you.

[ssauronn]

personal art rant below the cut \o7

long ass rant post TLDR im mad about a non issue and my brain sucks sometimes

i swear. i SWEAR

im.. sleepy angry

blowing th hell up at unsolicited critique that rly wasn’t insulting but i’m frustrated because i’m fucking inspired to make ANYTHING for the first time in such a long fucking time and the thought of having dumb tiny garbage stuck in my head stagnating me with this piece makes me want to throw my phone across the room and shriek into a pillow until i pass out. just please i didn’t need nitpicky shit i could have done with an “ok yeah looks cool bro” and ik im flipping the hell out over nothing, but i have a lot of brain worms and if i fixate on them then i will literally never be able to create anything and i’ll wither away with nothing to my name and i’m simply upset that i even have to think about it!!! here i am again in a vicious cycle

im so fucking sick of trying to make shit perfect i fucking swear if it doesnt look off immediately i literally don’t fucking care

i appreciate where the critiique comes from but i simply did not ask for nitpicky bullshit. it’s very small and unnecessary and i’m fucking sick of not ever producing anything because of stupid perfectionist shit. i’m really trying to affirm myself that i am okay and everything i’ve worked on for this fucking piece i was? am? happy with so far that literally no one is going to scrutinize that hard. i don’t need to fucking add more to the laundry list of problems i had already figured out myself to please anybody, because it straight up will not fucking matter. it genuinely doesn’t contribute to the feeling of it. it’s definitely not supposed to be perfect and damn, i don’t even know if it’s good at all but holy fuck

like sorry to be that bitch that can’t take crit or whatever but it literally. it literally isn’t even anything, it’s one tiny thing that will objectively only serve to slow me down in finishing and not add to the piece overall.

the thought that one day I will be dead and not having put out something because ONE curve got picked out and made me stall and stall until i got bored of the piece for trying to fix a non issue is making my blood boil

it’s why i dont fucking post! i’m tired physically and spiritually and i don’t care!!! i don’t fucking care!!!!!! let me make shit and let it be bad!!! fuck it all. fuck it all

anyway it wasn’t insulting or anything, rather i’m tired of getting 1000000 pieces of pointless tiny bullshit stuck in my head while creating for no fucking reason, and i can think of a ton of reasons why i don’t actually have to take this non-critique into consideration, and i absolutely do not owe it to anyone to make the alteration! and like. to hear it from a person with the same issue is making me more sure that i just don’t have to do it. no one’s requiring shit from me and the only person that needs to be happy with it is me. i want to use the image i am creating and i goddamn will until i think it looks shitty.

i fucking wish i didn’t fixate on the one negative thing that makes me fucking nervous to keep going. it doesn’t make any goddamn sense to do and i know i should just be able to make the thought go away but goddamn. no fucking beta viewers for non professional endeavors ever again, i’m only using my own eyeballs. if sharing any of my shit was my raised-by-narcissist-borne compelled to overshare trait jumping out, well ig i’ll keep everything even closer to my chest lmao. if i didn’t ask, then i didn’t ask.

i think that’s it and i would like to turn off the emotion spigot to go back to my silly little self indulgent doodles

but yeah i’ve been making things and feeling the fun of it. it’s wild and i don’t want anyone getting in the way of my healing or trying to help myself. it’s better to end on that note i think