#like this is something cute and funny when its not

[coryndoll]

in which you’re a rising music star who navigates playful tension with actor drew starkey, and your flirtation turns into something deeper amid a viral music video and your grammy win.

content: diff style writing, drew being cute n following readers lead for the mv

authors note: will lowkey write a part 2 and/or the music video version of this if requested but idk, hopefully it was kinda understandable!! i just wanted the pov as if u were watching the yt video for the behind the scenes footage omg

you’ve known of drew starkey—how could you not? he’s a rising star, a name that keeps getting bigger, a face that’s starting to dominate everyone’s celebrity crush list whenever you scroll through tiktok. the kind of guy that gets cast in fan-favorite shows, whose off-screen personality makes people love him even more. charming, funny, effortlessly likable. he’s everywhere.

but what you couldn’t have imagined is that he knew of you first.

it started small, almost too subtle to notice. a clip of him in an interview, sitting back in his chair, nodding as he listens to a question before casually mentioning that he had just discovered a new artist, you, and couldn’t stop listening. he called your music addictive, something about the way you write lyrics just clicked with him. maybe it would’ve gone unnoticed if he hadn’t mentioned it again.

a month later, another interview, another confession. a different setting, a different outfit, but the same topic. only this time, the interviewer caught onto it.

“seems like you’re a fan.”

drew, red in the face, grinning but flustered, just said, “yeah. yeah, i am.”

he didn’t say much else, but he didn’t have to. the internet picked up on the pattern. his name was suddenly linked to yours, your fans and his fans overlapping, people tweeting at you to collab when?, digging through every interview and live stream to see if he’d mention you again. edits of him set to your songs started appearing on every social media feed. some even made it look like you were the leads in some slow-burn romance movie, just from your music videos and his show clips.

and you? you didn’t think much of it. it was flattering, sure. entertaining, even. but you’d never spoken, never met, never had a reason to. it was just one of those internet things, something people liked to fantasize about but wasn’t real.

until about a year ago.

red carpet event, flashing cameras, voices shouting your name. you were mid-step, smiling for a picture when an interviewer stopped you, microphone extended.

“if you win tonight, who’s getting the first thank-you?”

you barely thought about it. “oh, obviously. my parents, my team, everyone who worked on the album . . .” a pause, a flicker of mischief as the words slipped out. “and drew starkey!”

then you scurried off, leaving the interviewer blinking after you. you didn’t look back, but you knew exactly what you’d just done. by the time you got home, twitter had already lost its mind.

so with all that history, all those years of almosts, how could you not end 2024 and start 2025 with a steamy, intimate music video starring your one and only secret admirer?

the behind-the-scenes video you upload to youtube starts with a simple title card—bts: filming my new music video with bae—before fading into a clip of you on set, bundled up in a puffer jacket, arms wide as you greet drew with an easy, “hi!”

it’s the first time meeting him in person. you’ve known of him, obviously, but standing here now, seeing the way his face lights up at the sight of you, it’s different. the camera catches his initial reaction. he smiles wide, like he’s trying to keep himself from grinning too hard, nodding like he’s trying to play it cool. you hug, brief but natural, before the video cuts to your interview.

you’re curled up in your seat, dressed down in sweats, looking entirely comfortable in front of the camera like you’ve done this a hundred times before. one leg is crossed over the other, your head rests against your palm, and the other hand is tucked between your thighs, playing absentmindedly with the fabric of your hoodie. you’re practically beaming as you talk.

“he’s cute. but no, getting drew to agree to the video was no problem,” you admit, a small laugh slipping through. “it just made sense. everybody on twitter and everybody on tiktok can calm down now.”

you grin at the camera before adding, “plus, my mom loved his last movie.”

your friend behind the camera immediately jumps in, amused. “did she?”

you snicker, nodding your head like the answer is obvious. you don’t even need to say anything. your smile says it all.

cut to: on set at night.

you stand close to drew, explaining your vision, the two of you tucked into a quiet corner of the closed-off street. it’s late. you’re talking, hands moving as you try to get the words out just right, and drew listens intently, nodding along, before huffing out a laugh at something you say.

the next shot is of you in position, standing just outside the entrance of a nightclub. the scene is meant to be electric, with the music pounding inside, the city buzzing around you. you refilm the shot a few times, stepping out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, pausing just as drew and ‘his group of friends’ step onto the curb from their car. the camera zooms in on your expression, catching the exact moment your character notices him.

you give him a look, one of intrigue, curiosity, a silent pull that makes drew’s character do a double take as he follows his friends inside. but as you turn and walk away, he hesitates. his friends don’t notice, but the audience is supposed to.

although the music is supposed to cut through, they’ll be able to see him say the words, “wait up for me, i’ll catch up.”

he stays behind. he follows you.

the cameras catch him walking past the frame, but in the behind-the-scenes footage, you’re already waiting for him off-camera. you’re standing just around the corner, out of sight, and the second he’s done with his take, he breaks into a grin, beaming as he jogs over to you.

“was that good?” he asks, a little breathless, still caught in the rush of the scene.

and off-camera, you laugh.

the next shot starts with a handheld camera capturing you inside a dimly lit bar, the neon glow from the signs reflecting off the polished counter. you’re perched on a stool, fingers curled around a glass, not drinking, just holding it for the scene, your expression unreadable as the camera focuses on you. the shot lasts for only a moment before it abruptly cuts away.

to: drew’s micro interview.

he’s leaned back in his chair, relaxed, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes, something playful lurking beneath his words. “she made me flustered super easily, yeah,” he confesses, mouth curving into a smirk as he glances off-camera toward your friend conducting the interviews. “she just has that effect to her.”

to: the first night scene.

this time, the energy is entirely different. the camera moves with purpose, following drew as he catches up to you, his hand grasping your arm, tugging you into another alleyway. the moment is fast, urgent, his body pressing yours up against the cool brick wall, his lips finding yours without hesitation.

the camera doesn’t linger on the kiss itself. instead, it captures the details, like the way drew’s fingers tighten around the fabric of your clothes, the way your hand slips into the back of his hair, curling at the nape of his neck. the shot pans downward, exposing the closeness between your bodies, the breathlessness of it all, before the scene suddenly fades.

you’re sitting up straighter this time in your interview immediately after the clip, legs crossed, hands in your lap, but there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes. your tongue presses against your top teeth as you chuckle, fully aware of what you’ve just filmed. you don’t say much, but the knowing look on your face says enough.

the final shot of this segment shows you and drew after the director calls cut, the tension immediately breaking as laughter spills between you. you pull away first, eyes bright as you turn toward the monitors, eager to check the footage.

drew, still lingering in place, rubs his bottom lip with his thumb, watching you for a beat before finally trailing after you, taking his time.

the next shot follows your character, leading drew by the hand, weaving through the streetlights, your destination clear in your mind, and you toss him the car keys without hesitation. drew catches them, glancing between you and the keys in his hand, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. the trust is unexpected, almost daring. but after a brief hesitation, he gives in, climbing into the driver’s seat while you swing into the passenger side, watching him with a smirk.

the screen quickly shifts to behind-the-scenes footage—handheld, slightly shaky, like a friend capturing the moment on their phone. you lean halfway out of the car window, hair tousled from the wind. your voice is light, playful, as you drag out the words dramatically, “we’ve been filming for the last six hours! i wanna go home.”

you make a face at the camera, and off-screen laughter follows. just as the camera pans back toward the car, drew reappears, slipping into the driver’s seat after what was clearly a break. he clocks the camera almost immediately, smiling as he watches you slide back inside, adjusting in your seat like you’re preparing for another take.

to: the car scene.

you're in the passenger seat, lip-syncing the lyrics, the camera catching you. your expression shifts between something teasing and something more heated, fingers toying with the hem of your dress as drew grips the wheel beside you.

then, another interview clip overlays the scene. you sit comfortably, your grin almost mischievous as you speak, “i wanted this music video to be very, very horny. like, so horny but also so fun, and freeing too.”

you pause, laughing as you push your hair back, “i really wanted to capture that feeling of instant attraction. like, that moment when you lock eyes with someone across the room and just know something’s about to happen. the whole video is about chasing that rush, that tension of being drawn to someone you shouldn’t want but not being able to stop yourself.”

“so, yeah. i wanted it to feel intense, a little dangerous, a little intoxicating . . . like a night you’ll never forget, even if it only lasts ‘til sunrise.”

it cuts to a different segment of the micro interview. you’re sitting casually, your thumb nail between your teeth as you listen to your friend. the vibe is lighthearted, almost too laid-back, until your friend says, “you should call him if you win that grammy.”

you freeze for a second, eyes widening slightly, then burst out laughing. sitting up straighter, you give her a look, almost like she’s lost their mind, “are you serious?”

the final shot in the behind-the-scenes video captures you dramatically collapsing onto the mock-bedroom set, letting out an exaggerated groan as you flop onto the bed, completely wiped from weeks of filming. you’re on your back, hair splayed out around you like a halo, eyes half-closed as the exhaustion hits you full force.

drew, on the other hand, leans back against the headboard, legs sprawled out casually as if he could take on another round of filming, but still, his hand reaches out, and you take it without hesitation. your hands clasp in a silent victory, both of you relishing in the fact that you’ve wrapped up the last take of the day.

“is that it?” you ask, glancing at the crew who are already packing up, and when they confirm it, a smile breaks across your face. you raise a fist in the air, a mock victory pose, causing a few of the crew members to chuckle behind the camera.

the camera cuts back to you, but just a few minutes later, still lounging on the bed with drew, who’s now looking at you with that signature grin of his. you sit up, stretching your arms over your head, and your voice is light as you ask, “was that fun?” you’re genuinely checking in, making sure drew’s feeling good after all the intense shots.

drew pauses for a beat, then lets out a little laugh, clearly still feeling the buzz from the shoot. “i had . . . a blast,” he says, but there’s something about the way he says it, maybe it’s the glint in his eyes or the slight inflection in his voice, that makes you burst out laughing.

you start to get up from the bed, your laugh still lingering in the air as you move out of the frame. the camera stays on drew as he watches you go, looking like he’s still processing the day. just as you move out of view, someone walks in from the side to start cleaning up the set, but drew doesn’t miss a beat.

“i’m being so honest right now, dude,” he says, his grin turning playful, and you hear the laughter behind the camera as they capture this moment.

after the music video shoot wraps, you and drew keep in touch. with the release of the video just around the corner, your team suggests posting a teaser to build hype on social media. it’s the perfect opportunity, so you agree.

another mini shoot is set up for the teaser. drew and his team arrive, and even though this shoot is way more relaxed than the last one, the excitement is still palpable. you’re going to film a short, tantalizing snippet.

the plan is for the camera to follow your feet clicking against the floor as you walk down a hallway, but your face won’t be seen. you stop in front of a door and knock before the cameras on you now.

the moment the door opens, your smile is real as you grab his hand. you pull him with you down the hall, and the camera focuses on the back of his head, leaving fans to wonder who he is. as you pass the wall, the words of the song title come to life to tease which song its for.

as soon as the video drops, the internet blows up. fans can’t stop guessing who your mystery man is.

‘ its drew isnt it ’

‘ PLEASE TELL ME THATS WHO I RHKNK IT IS ’

‘ y/n y/l/n u did NOT. ’

others speculate wildly, throwing out all kinds of guesses. you both meet up to hang out during the lead-up to your album release, laughing about the crazy theories online. some fans are dead sure it’s him, while others debate who it could be. the excitement only grows, and you secretly enjoy the fun of keeping them guessing.

but everything falls into place when you win that grammy. it’s the culmination of everything you’ve worked so hard for, and as the announcement echoes through the room, you’re overwhelmed with emotions. you honestly didn’t expect this, especially as a first-timer. they are hard to come by, and you’re honestly convinced this is going to be your one and only.

the wave of emotion hits you as you hug your loved ones, the tears welling up in your eyes. you quickly pat under your eyes with your fingers, trying to compose yourself as you walk toward the stage. all eyes are on you, and the spotlight is so bright you almost can’t bear to look directly at it.

you hold the grammy in your hands, trying to keep your composure as you deliver the half-planned speech you’d scribbled down earlier. it’s all so surreal.

“god, i actually thought i was about to pass out when they said my name,” you admit, and the audience of familiar faces laughs.

“i just can’t believe i’m standing here right now, receiving this. i have poured my heart into this album, into my music, and i never imagined it would lead me here. to my team and family, you’re the reason this dream is even possible. to my fans, thank you for making this journey so worth it. this award is for us. i love you all, and i’ll keep making music as long as you’ll keep listening. thank you all so much.”

eventually you’re off the stage and sitting at your table, still processing everything that's just happened. there are few who still congratulate you from their seats around you. your friend, sitting beside you, gives you a look, the kind that says it all. you know what to do.

you hesitate. was she serious about what she said before about if you won? you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the pull of it. you grab your phone and turn it on briefly, waiting for an appropriate moment. your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before you type out the message to drew:

hey. can i call u tonight?

a/n: such an abrupt ending LOL but i have to cut it off here bc i have my first day of my new class tmr n im supposed to get up in 2 hours 💔 ILL REWRITE THIS OR DO A PART 2 IF I REREAD THIS LATER N NOT LIKE IT

[wendichester]

hey!! can i request a sam x reader where the reader is a huge cat lover (i know canonically sam isnt) but she finds a stray kitten whilst out on a hunt and she begs him to let her keep it? maybe she can mention that it can be a bunker guard cat? jsut something light and funny with him? whether theyre friends or dating i dont mind! thought itd be a cute idea <3

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ stray,

summary. you find a baby kitty kat while out on a hunt with sam and well... he can never refuse you

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 349

notes. i think sam would be the biggest softie when it came to animals. would he prefer dogs? no doubt. but a soft kitten? nah, he'd love the little ball of fur to death

The moment you spot the tiny, rain-soaked kitten huddled beneath the dumpster, all thoughts of the hunt vanish.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, crouching down, ignoring the damp ground soaking through your jeans. “Hey, little guy.”

The kitten is shivering, its fur a mix of gray and white, its big eyes blinking up at you with a pitiful meow. Your heart clenches.

Sam, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, sighs. “We don’t have time for this.”

You turn to look at him, bottom lip already jutted out in a pout. “Sam. We can’t just leave it.”

He runs a hand down his face. “We’re in the middle of a case.”

“And this is a baby,” you argue, scooping the kitten up into your hands. It barely weighs anything, just a tiny, trembling ball of fluff. “He needs us.”

“No, you want him,” Sam corrects, but his voice is softer now, less firm.

You cradle the kitten close, feeling it purr against your chest, and look up at him with the most devastatingly hopeful expression you can muster. “Think about it, Sam. A bunker guard cat.”

“A what?”

“A bunker guard cat. He can keep watch, protect the place from ghosts and demons.”

Sam stares at you. “A cat is not going to protect the bunker.”

You tilt your head. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But you don’t.” You scratch behind the kitten’s ear, cooing at it. “Besides, if we don’t take him, who will? He’s all alone in the world, Sam. Like Batman. Like—”

“Do not compare that cat to Batman.”

You grin, knowing you’re winning. “Please, Sammy?”

He exhales sharply, looking from you to the kitten and back. You can practically see the moment he gives in, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. But you’re taking care of it.”

You beam, hugging the kitten closer. “Of course! Oh my God, thank you, Sam. You won’t regret this.”

He mutters under his breath as he turns away, but you catch the small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

Yeah, he’s totally going to regret this.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @s0urw00lf

[gf2bellamy]

Saw that you're still taking requests so I wanted to ask if you could write something with bau!reader and s4!spencer reid so she has a crush on him but he's kinda oblivious to it so he tries to help set her up with Morgan kinda like he did in that one delete scene from season 2 about him and emily but then he realizes he likes her after she goes on a date with Morgan so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and they end up together 😭

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of rats? a/n: thank you so much for your request !! <3 i actually had to look that scene up and omg ?? i wish they didn't delete it. its so funny and cute 😭 i hope you like this !! <33

You leaned casually against Derek’s desk, barely perched on the edge, the hard surface pressing into the back of your thighs. He sat comfortably in his chair, his usual charming grin firmly in place as he listened to you argue with him.

"Paris isn't that nice," you said with an exaggerated eye roll, your voice playful. "It's not as romantic as everyone says."

Derek raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Are you serious? It's literally called the 'City of Love,' sweetheart. Who wouldn't want to go there?"

You leaned in slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. "Have you even heard about the rats?" Your eyebrow lifted in challenge, daring him to argue.

Derek chuckled, completely unfazed. "Rats? It’s a big city, babe. There are always rats. Doesn't change the fact that it's beautiful."

You snorted, crossing your arms as you pushed off his desk. "Yeah? You won’t be saying that when you're on a date and one runs up your leg." With a satisfied smile, you turned on your heel and walked back to your desk.

Spencer, seated nearby, glanced up just in time to catch the smile Derek threw your way. His fingers stilled on the page of the book he was flipping through,his eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Meanwhile, you stood beside your desk, staring at your empty coffee mug as a yawn escaped your lips. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched, feeling the slight ache in your muscles.

"Anyone want coffee?" you called out, glancing around at the three remaining people in the room.

Emily, still focused on her computer, glanced up briefly. “I’ll take one,” she said, offering you a small but warm smile.

The two men, however, were preoccupied with their own work. Derek didn’t even look up as he shook his head. “No thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer, his eyes scanning over a case file, simply replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

You nodded, mentally noting their responses before turning on your heel and making your way toward the break room. The soft click of your shoes faded as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer hesitated for a moment before shifting slightly in his chair, his gaze flicking toward Derek.

Derek, still absorbed in his files, felt the stare before he even looked up. With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow. “You got something to say, Reid, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Spencer twirled his pen between his fingers, his expression unreadable as he carefully chose his words. "You smile a lot when you’re talking to her."

Derek’s grin faltered—just for a fraction of a second—before he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

Emily, who had been absorbed in her work just moments ago, was now fully tuned into the conversation, grinning as she watched Derek’s eyebrows furrow at Spencer.

“So…?” Derek challenged, tilting his head slightly. "Are you saying I’m interested in her?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it—like he was daring Spencer to say it outright.

Spencer merely shrugged, his expression unreadable. "She was sitting at your desk. Which she does a lot," he pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. "She also teases you more than anyone else. And when you talk to her, you lean in. You laugh more. Your body language is open, relaxed." He paused, adjusting his grip on the pen. "Statistically speaking, those are common indicators of attraction."

Derek let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. "Damn, Dr.Reid. You been profiling me?"

Spencer blinked. "You profile me all the time," he countered without missing a beat.

Emily snickered under her breath, clearly enjoying the exchange. "He’s got a point," she teased, smirking at Derek.

Derek exhaled dramatically, throwing his hands up. "She’s funny, she’s smart, and yeah, she’s easy on the eyes. ," he admitted. "But that doesn’t mean anything." he added slowly.

Spencer tapped his pen against his desk before speaking. "You should ask her out on a date."

Derek raised his eyebrows, caught completely off guard. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait, hold up—you are not seriously giving me dating advice right now." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Spencer merely shrugged, unfazed. "Why not?"

Derek scoffed. "Because you don’t date. You read about dating. That’s not the same thing." He gestured toward him. "I mean, I respect you, kid, but unless you’ve been secretly taking girls out and I just didn’t notice, I don’t know if you’re the best wingman for this conversation."

Spencer’s lips twitched like he might argue, but instead, he just tilted his head slightly, studying Derek. "That doesn’t mean I don’t understand attraction," he countered.

Derek shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Spencer, ignoring him, continued, "So why haven’t you asked her out?"

Derek exhaled, drumming his fingers against his desk. "I don’t know, man. She’s not just some girl you take out for drinks and flirt with at the bar. She’s…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "She’s got depth. She’s got layers. And I don’t think she sees me as anything more than just… a friend."

Spencer considered that, his grip on his pen tightening slightly. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Before Derek could respond, Emily, who had been watching the exchange, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, would you just go ask her out already?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?"

Derek glanced at Spencer, who for once, didn’t have anything to add.

For the first time in a long time, Derek Morgan was actually thinking about it.

Before either of them could say anything else, the bullpen doors swung open, and you walked back in, two coffee cups in hand. Almost instantly, the air in the room shifted. Papers rustled, chairs creaked, and suddenly, both men were very focused on their work. Emily hid her smirk behind her coffee as you approached, handing her the second cup. 

You glanced between them, your brow furrowing slightly. It was too quiet. You settled into your chair and got back to work, unaware of the two pairs of eyes that flickered toward you in quiet contemplation. 

Derek tapped his pen against his desk, stealing glances at you every so often, as if weighing something in his mind. 

Spencer, on the other hand, didn’t look away as quickly. His fingers hovered over the pages of his case file, but he wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, he was studying the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your brows knitted together in concentration, the way you absentmindedly chewed on your lip while reviewing something on your screen. 

Emily, watching all of this unfold, took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. 

Neither of them heard her.  

Two hours later, the team began packing up, the bullpen emptying as everyone prepared to head home. You stepped into the elevator, the long day weighing on you, and let out a sigh as you walked toward your car in the dimly lit parking lot. 

Just as you reached for your keys, a voice called out behind you. 

"Hey, I need to ask you something." 

You turned to see Derek approaching. Leaning against your car, you suppressed a yawn, giving him a small, tired smile. "Hurry up, or I’ll fall asleep right here," you teased, rubbing your eyes. 

Derek chuckled, but there was something different about his expression—something more serious beneath the usual charm. He hesitated for only a second before finally saying, "How about dinner? Just you and me." 

For a moment, you just stared at him, surprised. You hadn’t expected this—not from Derek. Sure, he flirted with you, but he flirted with everyone. This was unexpected. 

Your instinct was to hesitate, to sort through the sudden rush of emotions that flooded your mind. But before you could respond, movement near the entrance of the building caught your attention. 

Spencer. 

He stepped outside, his bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze landed on you, and for a brief second, the two of you locked eyes. His expression was unreadable at first, but then—softly, almost hesitantly—he smiled. 

And then he kept walking. 

You felt your stomach twist. 

Spencer. He was the one who had been lingering in your thoughts, the one whose voice you found yourself seeking out, the one who made your heart race in ways you didn’t fully understand. But despite everything, nothing had ever happened. 

Maybe nothing ever would. 

Maybe Derek was right there, right now, offering you something tangible. 

So before you could overthink it, you looked back at Derek, forcing a small smile. "Sure," you said. 

Derek’s grin widened, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that you might actually say yes. "Alright, then. Tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, even as your eyes flickered, just for a second, toward Spencer’s retreating figure. 

Two days later, you rushed through the doors of the BAU, the cool morning air still clinging to your skin as you made your way toward the elevators. A warm coffee sat snug in your hands. 

As you stood waiting, you heard footsteps—familiar ones. Ones you could recognize anywhere. 

"Good morning," Spencer’s voice came softly beside you. 

You turned to see him standing there, clutching the strap of his bag, his own coffee in hand. 

"Morning, Spencer," you said, offering him a small smile. 

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the building waking up around you. Then, Spencer shifted slightly, glancing at you. 

"How was your day yesterday?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

You were a profiler. You knew exactly what he was really asking. 

"Derek told you about the date," you said simply, watching him carefully. 

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small, slightly embarrassed smile, his gaze flickering to the elevator doors just as they slid open.

He didn’t deny it. 

You stepped inside together. You exhaled softly, pressing the button for your floor before finally answering. 

"It was nice," you said, keeping your tone light. 

It wasn’t a lie. Derek had been charming, attentive, and easy to talk to. The evening had been pleasant. But that was all it was. Nice. 

You and Derek had come to the same conclusion: you were better off as friends. 

The entire date had felt more like two friends hanging out than anything remotely romantic. Somewhere around the halfway mark, you'd both silently agreed on it. And after that, the night had been easy—filled with laughter and inside jokes, but nothing more. 

You were relieved, honestly. Because deep down, you knew your heart had never really been in it. 

Not when it still raced just from standing next to Spencer. 

"That's good," Spencer said, nodding slightly. His smile was soft, polite—maybe even a little forced—but you didn't let yourself dwell on it. 

The elevator doors slid open, and as you stepped forward, you felt his eyes linger on you for just a second longer than necessary before he followed behind. 

The bullpen was already alive with the usual morning energy—phones ringing and papers shuffling. Derek glanced up from his desk, catching your eye. He gave you a knowing grin, one that said, We’re good, right? 

You returned it with an easy smile. Yeah, we’re good. 

Emily flicked her gaze between you and Spencer as you both walked in. She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, instead sipping her coffee with an amused smirk. 

You were having a normal, uneventful day at work. But the man sitting across from you? He was having anything but. 

Spencer’s mind hadn’t been able to settle since that brief moment in the elevator. The words you had said—simple, casual—had been looping in his head on an endless repeat. 

"It was nice." 

That was all. No excitement, no details, no hint of anything deeper. 

But what did that mean? Were you and Derek together now? Had he taken you to some dimly lit restaurant with expensive food and soft music? Had he-

Spencer clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop spiraling. He knew where this was leading.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. But it was impossible not to. The truth was starting to settle like a heavy weight in his chest, and as much as he tried to shove it down, it refused to stay buried.

He wanted to be the one in Derek’s position. 

And as he sat there, gripping his pen a little too tightly, he realized just how badly he wanted that. 

His eyes flickered up, drawn to the sound of your laugh—light, effortless, the kind of sound he could pick out in a crowded room. You were standing next to Derek’s desk, handing him a file as you chuckled at something he’d said. Derek grinned, throwing a comment back at you, easy as always. 

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat dry. His stomach twisted with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to—not until now. He had read about this before, studied it in textbooks and papers, knowing the psychology behind it, the theories that tried to explain why emotions sometimes crept up on you when you least expected them. Why your heart could flip at the smallest touch, or your mind could spiral at the thought of someone you cared about turning their attention to someone else.

He could list a dozen different theories—explain this away with biology, with brain chemistry. He could tell himself that this was just a byproduct of human connection.

But none of that mattered. Because no amount of rationalizing, no number of facts, no cold, clinical analysis of his brain could change the truth.

This wasn’t just some passing feeling.

He was jealous.

And the realization hit him like a freight train. Because the truth was, he wasn’t just jealous.

Spencer Reid was in love with you.

And now? 

Now it seemed like it was too late to do anything. 

Because as much as he wanted to be the one taking you on dates and laughing with you the next day, he wasn’t. 

Derek was. 

And Spencer had no one to blame for that but himself. 

You, meanwhile, were oblivious to his internal struggle. Your caffeine addiction had long since become a well-known part of your routine. Without even thinking, you moved toward the break room, your body acting on autopilot as you reached for another cup of coffee—was it your third or fourth today? You couldn’t even keep track anymore.

Spencer, still seated at his desk, saw his moment.

He grabbed his own mug and, without thinking too much about it, followed you. 

As he stepped inside the break room, he saw you standing at the coffee machine, waiting for the dark liquid to fill your cup. 

"Work is killing me," you muttered, not even turning around as you sensed his presence. 

Spencer let out a small breath of amusement. "I can help you if you want," he offered, setting his mug down on the counter beside you. 

You finally glanced up at him, your lips curling into a soft smile. "No, that’s fine, Spencer. But thank you." 

You turned back to your coffee, but you weren’t as focused on it as you pretended to be. Your heart was doing that stupid thing again — pounding a little too fast, your pulse betraying you. 

You didn’t know that his was doing the same. 

Spencer watched as you took a small step back, your hands wrapped around your coffee mug, while he moved forward to place his own under the machine. The steady drip of coffee filled the silence between you. 

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips. 

“Did Derek take you to that restaurant on Osborn Street ?” 

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yeah, he did,” you said slowly, tilting your head as you studied him. “Why?” 

The moment the question left your mouth, Spencer felt warmth creeping up his neck. Embarrassment? Frustration? He wasn’t sure. 

He clenched his jaw slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as another sentence—one he barely had time to think through—slipped past his lips. 

“He usually takes his dates there.” As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue, regretting it instantly. 

Why would he say that? 

It sounded… wrong. Like he was implying you were just another name on a list for Derek. And if you were dating, wouldn’t that make you upset? Shouldn’t he be worried that you’d storm off and confront Derek about it? 

But then another thought crept in—one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge. 

Would it really be such a bad thing if you did get mad at Derek? 

While Spencer spiraled through a hundred different scenarios in his head, you were left staring at him, your coffee now sitting untouched on the counter. 

Mouth slightly agape, you processed what he had just said. 

You weren’t mad. Not at all. 

You just hadn’t expected Spencer Reid—the careful, logical, always-thinks-before-he-speaks Spencer—to say something so… passive-aggressive. 

The grin that was forming on your face was hard to suppress, but you were failing miserably. The little twitch at the corners of your lips was telling on you. 

Spencer wasn’t looking at you to notice it. Instead, he was focused on his mug, holding it in his hands like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

"Spencer," you said, your voice a little lighter as you tilted your head at him. 

Spencer glanced at you from the side, his expression a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I—" 

But you cut him off, giving him a soft smile. "Me and Derek are just friends," you said. 

Spencer froze, his head whipping toward you so fast that you actually flinched, worried he might give himself whiplash. "What? But you went on a date—" His voice trailed off, his confusion evident. 

"Yeah," you said with a casual shrug, "and we decided we were better off as friends." 

As the words left your mouth, a surge of hope filled your chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, Spencer's earlier remark had been born from jealousy.

Because it sure seemed like it. 

Spencer’s lips quirked upward, a soft but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Oh, I’m sorry," he said, but there was no real apology in his tone. It was teasing, lighthearted—almost as if he had been waiting for you to say those words. 

You couldn’t help it. A grin spread across your face, matching his. 

"Yeah, sure you are," you replied, picking up your own coffee mug and taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink seep through your hands. 

Spencer mirrored you, lifting his mug to his lips, though his eyes stayed on you a little longer than necessary.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you set your coffee down, his eyes searching yours for a hint of what you were thinking. 

And then, without even thinking, his words tumbled out. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter this time, "I wasn’t asking about Derek because I was just curious." 

You glanced at him, feeling the beat of your heart quicken. Was he about to say what you thought he was? 

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered, his eyes not meeting yours now. “I mean, I—uh—just wanted to know because…” He trailed off, swallowing, his words uncertain but his intentions clear. 

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, your voice teasing but gentle. "Because…?" You waited, your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, waiting for him to finish his thought. 

Spencer took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I’m around you, I just—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You make everything feel different. I’ve never really felt this way before, not like this." He laughed nervously. "And I know this probably sounds insane, but I think I might like you. A lot." 

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and for a moment, you were speechless.You took a step closer, your hand gently resting on the counter between you two. “Spencer,” you said softly, your voice warm. "I think I like you too. A lot." 

His face broke into a relieved smile.“So, uh, does this mean…?” He hesitated, but there was a glimmer of hope in his expression. 

You smiled at him, your eyes glinting with something playful and genuine. “I think it means you owe me a real date,” you teased, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly before a soft, almost bashful grin spread across his face. “A… date?” he echoed, as though he were processing the word for the first time, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Uh, I mean… yeah. I can, um, I can do that.” He shifted his weight nervously, stepping closer with a gentle hesitation. “Maybe...maybe dinner this weekend? If that’s okay?”

You nodded, your excitement rising with each word he said. “That sounds perfect.”

[chlerc]

hidden recordings ; charles leclerc

— summary; you never realised how sentimental and adorable charles could be until you come across the black box tucked away in a corner of a drawer.

pairing — highschool-best-friend-charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1172.

content — 5 short recordings he recorded just to remember you, and how he secretly wishes you’d stumble upon it one day. he loves you a lot, like a loooottttttt. you’re it for him.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i love this vcr love confession concept so much, it’s so cute recording things and people that means the most to you. happy chinese new year :o

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED softly through the window, casting a warm, amber glow across the apartment as she worked her way through the cluttered shelves. It was supposed to be a simple day of tidying up — a routine chore that had grown overdue — but as always, the small, nostalgic things had a way of slowing her down. Dust motes danced in the air as she opened an old, wooden box tucked away in the corner of a drawer, a box she had almost forgotten. Its contents were a time capsule of sorts, filled with small mementos and keepsakes that had survived the years — photographs, letters, concert tickets, and little trinkets that had woven themselves into the fabric of her relationship with Charles.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she sifted through the items, fingers brushing over the worn edges of a photograph of them as children, their innocent grins forever preserved in time. It was a testament to how far they’d come, from childhood friends to something far deeper, a bond that had grown over years of shared experiences and memories. As she dug further into the box, her hand paused as it closed around something unfamiliar — a small, black thumb drive, half-buried beneath a stack of old letters.

Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she pulled it out, turning it over in her fingers. It wasn’t labelled, and for a moment, she wondered what it could contain. Charles was never one to leave things lying around without a reason, and this had clearly been tucked away for some time. Her curiosity piqued, she reached for her laptop, a quiet hum of intrigue settling over her as she plugged the thumb drive into the port.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a folder containing five short video files. No titles, just numbered sequences — each one simple and unassuming, yet they called to her like fragments of a forgotten story. With a small click, she opened the first file, and her heart skipped a beat as the screen filled with the familiar face of Charles, much younger, his boyish charm evident even then.

He must have been in his early teens in this first video. His hair was a little unruly, the way it always used to be when he wasn’t bothered by appearances, and there was a hint of nervousness in the way he looked directly into the camera. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before speaking. “Uh, hi,” he began, his voice cracking slightly with the uncertainty of youth. “So, I’m not really sure why I’m doing this… but I guess it’s just something I wanted to keep. A reminder, maybe. For her.” There was a pause, and he ran a hand through his hair, glancing off-camera as if gathering his thoughts. “She’s always been there, you know? My best friend… even though I’m older, I still think she’s way braver than I am.”

A soft chuckle escaped her as she watched him stumble through his words, that endearing awkwardness still as familiar as ever. The screen flickered as the video ended, and without hesitation, she opened the next one. This time, Charles appeared a little older, his features more defined, his smile a little more confident.

“It’s funny,” he said, the camera slightly shaky as if he were holding it himself, “I never realised how much she means to me until recently. We’ve always been together, and it’s like… it’s always been her. I don’t know how else to explain it.” His gaze softened, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made her heart ache in the sweetest way. “She’s the one person who can make everything feel right, even when things are a mess. I think, no — I know, I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her for longer than I knew.”

The words hung in the air, settling deep within her as she paused the video, feeling the weight of his confession even though it had been made years ago. It was a piece of him, captured in time, before they had ever taken that leap from friends to something more. She pressed play again, her heart caught in her throat.

The third video was taken during what looked like a school trip. The background was noisy, filled with the laughter of classmates and the hum of distant chatter. Charles was standing by a river, looking a little winded as if he had just finished some outdoor activity. “She’s going to laugh at this,” he grinned, breathless but radiant. “She always teases me about being uncoordinated, but she’s the one who nearly fell into the river earlier. I had to catch her — again.” His smile softened. “I wouldn’t change a thing, though. She’s… she’s my favourite person in the world.”

By the fourth video, she found herself holding back tears. In this one, he was visibly older, perhaps just before he left for university. His expression was more serious, the playful boyishness replaced with something more resolute. “I’m leaving soon,” he began, his voice quieter, as though he were speaking directly to her even though she wasn’t there. “And it terrifies me. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, being apart for the first time in… ever. But I know one thing for sure: no matter where I go, or how long we’re apart, I’ll always come back to her. I have to. She’s… she’s home.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she clicked on the final video, her breath catching in her chest. In this one, Charles was as she knew him now — his familiar face filling the screen with that smile that always seemed to disarm her. “If you’re watching this,” he said softly, “then you’ve found it. I wasn’t sure if you ever would, but I hoped you might.” His eyes glimmered with affection, his smile gentle. “You’ve always been the best part of my life. From the very beginning. I made these videos because I wanted to remember — wanted you to remember — how much you’ve always meant to me. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of my life.”

Her vision blurred as the final video ended, the stillness of the room punctuated by the steady hum of the laptop. She sat there for a long moment, overwhelmed by the depth of what she had just witnessed — memories of Charles, preserved like fragments of a love story that spanned years. Each video was a testament to the quiet, unwavering devotion that had always existed between them, even before they had given it a name.

As she closed the laptop, her heart swelled with an indescribable warmth. This was their story — one that began in childhood and grew into something more, something profound. And as she held the thumb drive in her hand, she knew that whatever lay ahead, they would always have these memories to hold onto.

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Part 2 is on its way!

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

[oh-no-its-bird]

Full disclosure: I know fucking nothing about animal crossing. I've literally never touched it in my life. The extent of my knowledge is that there's that one cat character(?) who people are absolutely insane about and will charge real in person money to see. With that in mind:

obkk animal crossing shaped au where Obito moves to an island filled w human-animal people, run by its resident mayor, a funky wolf man named Kakashi

Obito living his best, small town life, surrounded by strange fluffy people ,,,

Actually having fun thinking ab just Obito being the only full human there, that's a fun mental image to me. He's actually totally weirded out by it but if he brings it up it goes something like,

"So uhh. Why do you have a tail?"

"Oh my god Obito you can't just ask someone why they have a tail"

Obito can no longer bring it up for fear of being animal people racist. Which is not a thing he knew existed, but.

The twist is that he could totally ask people and they'd probably answer juts fine but he made the mistake of asking Kakashi when Kurenai and Genma were around and all three of them were way too ready to fuck with him

Tanuki Genma,,,give it to me,,I wish to see him,,

Kakashi is a wolf man but actually that is a LIE and hes just a very big and fluffy dog guy who somehow got the reputation that he was actually a wolf and just kinda never disputed it, pass it on. He thinks its funny and will regularly make big bad wolf jokes n stuff but meanwhile hes like. A husky or smthn.

Obito realizes he's just a normal ass dog and gets weirdly butt hurt / disappointed about it. Turns out he is actually one of those half wolf dogs but now Obito is being stubborn and says he has "trust issues" and doesn't believe him anymore

Rin as Kakashi's mayoral assistant maybe? Then again, her working at the hospital is always fun tho.

Either or, I am trying to think of a good animal for her. Leaning towards smthn like a mongoose or a honey badger, small and cute looking but absolutely fucking insane and not to be approached under any circumstances because they can rip your fucking throat out

Gai is a bear, no further comments.

I really have no specific thoughts ab this other than it would be funny to me and I want to see normal human man Obito trying his best to live in a weird ass animal-people town.

I want mayor Kakashi to harass him daily and I want them to have a love hate relationship that largely involves them fucking with each other. I think it'd be neat.

[welcometoteyvat]

finally typing up my late lantern rite thoughts (very long). overall 100/10 quest I love hu tao

The amount of Xingqiu's brother mentions were insane. Surely we'll see him either as an NPC soon, right? Right? /j Honestly here he sounded pretty competent, nothing like "a simpleton" like Xingqiu's troubles voiceline suggests hmm...

The little model animations were SOOOOOOOOOO GOOD. contributed a lot to the experience and made it feel so much more alive. hu tao's expressions especially, but also yun jin's expressions, and Xiangling's "come back, get over here and eat!!!!!1!1!!!" was also really fucking funny. they've been adding these small animations for a while but this event specifically had so many of them and the effort paid off <3

in a similar vein I'm impressed how smooth the animation/model actions were when Xiao put the sigil on us

hu tao lan yan and qiqi fill in the gap fic please

timaeus is kind of silly, also very funny he and ying'er still going strong 2 years later. he's literally learning liyue language for ying'er? genuinely his dedication is impressive. they should make events replayable because how will everyone who missed 3.5 windblume know why timaeus simps for someone a whole country over

we finally know what the fake chinese characters in all those liyue signs represent (kinda ig). I need to look over this part again

if hu tao&/xiangling or hu tao &/yun jin stocks on ao3 don't increase after this I will start biting. MY GIRLS T_T T_TT_T_T_T_T_T_T. bro the farewell section was so tender I enjoyed it greatly. Their relationships with each other got developed on screen.. yun jin and hu tao's banter especially was really cute and really shows us their relationship aside from the hints in their VOs

YUN JIN OPERATIC HILITUNE ON SCREEN. the fanvid of it from bilibili can finally rest, thanks for your service, canon got here 4 years later.

Yun Jin, having practiced the tao dou opera, MUST have known something correct?? or else she wouldn't have asked hu tao so many times to promise to come back, right? She trusts Hu Tao so much :'''' . if Hu Tao says she can handle it, Yun Jin knows there's no stopping her, and she will find a way, but it doesn't stop her from worrying nonetheless :''').

hu tao's death flags during part 2......

my agenda is speaking, but I wish Xingqiu and Hu Tao directly talked during the farewells section. something something chivalry and sacrifice. Hu Tao makes her peace with giving up everything to resolve the Tao Dou issue, but is Xingqiu at peace with losing a friend even tho its selfish of him to want her to stay? he has personal stakes in this please just let them talk a little

I'm really really glad they went through with the death, they showed Hu Tao's emotions, they showed her father and grandfather waving her off. I broke, she looked so tired but satisfied (thinking about her vision story, where she waited so long for her grandfather to never appear vs him visiting her for just a brief moment here)

my other favorite shot is when traveler pulls her out and she looks at them in muted surprise. she just looked so sad and fragile and in need of a hug :(((

the Themes (waves hands wildly). hu tao's father's lingering regrets were his fatal flaw, and so Hu Tao settles her affairs properly and steels herself before going to die. she leaves behind the plum blossom branch just like her grandfather left his hat.. genuinely what the hell. the parallels between her cutscene goodbye and her saying "happy lantern rite" kills me

the epilogue last year with the fontaine tourists was pretty fanservicey, and tbh the epilogue the year before was also somewhat fanservice to me, (liyue gang dinner and zhongli venti teasing) though I liked it better. However I think this epilogue was actually really good— the hanging out and the fluff felt natural, it fit with everything else and wasn't super sudden. Maybe this was because of all the setup that happened (Yun Jin and Xiangling's promises to Hu Tao, Xiao and Yelan's dynamic built up in Perilous Trails and their earlier exchange), so the payoff is good instead of forced. After the trials and danger they got put through, everyone gets a chance to relax, and I appreciate the slice of life after the main plot. also Yun Jin's opera was crazy good considering it was not a cutscene, the animation and camera angles really sold it

I thought the special guest was xiao again, like how LR 3.4 had him dragged to the harbor by Hu Tao.... xiaolan banter was also v good though.

THE ADEPTI. they're still watching over Liyue in their own way :') the affectionate bickering about hu tao's name :''''''''

I barely mentioned lan yan in this... her part was pretty minor ngl, her habit of learning everything about a person to the point of sounding a bit creepy is kind of fun though.

alright. fantastic quest absolutely no notes I got almost everything I ever wanted and I am so glad Hu Tao had such an incredible 2nd story quest. chongyun and shenhe exorcist lantern rite next year?

[theflyingfeeling]

hello and happy February!! I'm back with some pointless Olli/Allu poetry if any of you fancy some 💖

~

The first kiss was the easiest; it happened almost by accident, in the afterglow of a show. Olli was glowing and the sun behind him was glowing and maybe Aleksi was blinded by it all for a moment. Maybe that's why he didn't resist. 

(He knew that wasn't the reason, but he had to tell himself something in defence.)  

((Defence from the truth that he had wanted Olli to kiss him for so long by then, had thought many times he was going to, almost had done it himself just as often, under the most ridiculous of pretexts.))  

(((Homesickness? Loneliness? Heartbreak? Or simply because he wanted to know for sure?)))

((((Know for sure that he had fallen for someone he shouldn't have and that there might be no turning back if he didn't put an end to it before it ever even began.))))

After the second kiss, in the tour bus at 4 in the morning, Aleksi knew he had gone too far to back up anymore.

"You look cute when you blush," Olli told him, his eyes still closed (so how could he tell?) and his nose still touching Aleksi's (so Aleksi felt Olli's breathing on his lips), as if they were still kissing even with their mouths apart.

Which certainly didn't help at all. 

Then came the third kiss, exactly a week from the second one, the longest seven days of Aleksi's life, and it pushed him even deeper into his self-created despair while Olli was pushing him down on the tour bus sofa. It was funny how they were both sucking the life out of him too, in entirely different ways, of course; the despair with the way it kept casting shadows over Aleksi's daily thoughts (except when Olli kissed him), whereas Olli simply did it with his mouth on Aleksi's mouth and neck and cock (except they never got that far that time around, because Aleksi spilled in his shorts simply from Olli kissing him and moving on top of him). 

"That's okay," Olli whispered, and then hid his own moan in Aleksi's mouth. 

Or in his heart – same difference.

~ 

The first morning-after was the worst: remorseful and headachy and his ears ringing with self-accusations. It got easier after that; Aleksi hated how it did. 

(Hated how the night-before always overrode any common sense that threatened to break free from its skull prison to the rest of Aleksi's body.) 

((Which would have been a shot in the dark anyway, for someone who, more often than not, tended to dismiss his own head and instead allied with his heart.))

(((His heart, which was as incompetent as an organ could be, often only pumping blood to his veins when Olli flashed a smile at him from behind his acoustic guitar – and fuck, how much Aleksi wanted to be a guitar – or when Olli glanced at him mid-show while whispering something into Porko's ear – and fuck, if Aleksi had ever wanted to be a Porko in his life; yet, here he was.))) 

((((Or when Olli anything.)))) 

"Fuck you," Olli almost giggled one morning when Aleksi's hand travelled down and down and even further down but then back up again. 

It sounded nothing like the breathless 'fuck me' Olli had whispered him the night before, but it brought back the memories just the same.  

There were morning-afters that weren't mornings at all, really, because they were at an airport or in a plane where time didn't exist, and still Aleksi found the time to want Olli so much he considered missing the flight just to sit in the VIP lounge with Olli's head on his lap until the end of time. There were also morning-afters that weren't 'after' at all, because the two of them had never slept, because making out and making love had been more urgent than dealing with jet lag.  

"Morning," Olli would still say to him, even on those morning-afters when they had done much else but looked at each other and talked and talked and talked all night. 

And fucked, of course, but that was a given. 

~

For all that it was worth, Aleksi knew that keeping count on all the kisses and the nights they shared and the mornings that followed were nothing more but an excuse, a way to fool himself into a sense of control. 

For if there was a first time, there'd always be a last time, too. 

(For acknowledging it was easier than admitting he didn't want there to be a last time.) 

((For there had been signs for a while, like that time Olli had roomed with Niko instead and Aleksi would have sobbed his pillow soaked if Tommi had not been snoring in the bed next to his.))

(((For Aleksi had grown used to having Olli's sweet kisses for breakfast, and if there was a day he didn't, he thought he might as well have stayed in bed all day, until Olli would worm his way back to Aleksi’s proximity (and pants (and heart)) again and drag him into a hidden corner to crash their mouths together and suck the doubt out of him.)))

((((For a moment.)))) 

"Must there be a last time, though?" Niko asked him with a bottle of Heineken on his lips. Several empty ones stood on the table in front of them, already having served their purpose in loosening Aleksi’s lips. 

Aleksi glared at the bottles and at Niko, then at the bottles again, because surely they were to blame for Niko's failure in seeing the inevitability of it. Frustration (or intoxication (or just plain agony)) made Aleksi's head feel heavy when Niko sneered at him upon Aleksi telling him so. 

"Olli's just freaking out a bit," Niko's next words echoed into his bottle with a low-pitched snort, "and clearly he's not the only one." 

As if sensing he was being talked about – or perhaps finally noticing Aleksi's eyes following his every move – Olli held Aleksi’s gaze across the club while whispering something into Porko's ear, then shaking his head at something Porko whispered back, then rolling his eyes and shoving the guy's shoulder with a smile visiting his red (and soft (and sweet)) lips, then wriggling his way through the crowd towards Aleksi and Niko. 

Aleksi got drunk all over again on Olli's cologne as he found a seat next to Aleksi. He breathed in the scent and almost leaned in when Olli did, to speak into Aleksi’s ear. 

"If we leave now, we'll have the bus to ourselves for a couple hours.”

Niko said nothing, because he didn’t need to; the eyebrow he raised at Aleksi was enough to make him want to kick his friend in the shin. 

They walked back to the bus and said nothing, because Aleksi was just too damn stunned when Olli grabbed his hand. They undressed and said nothing, because Aleksi was just too damn scared, having stuttered in front of Olli's grace and made a lovesick fool out of himself enough for one lifetime already. They climbed to Aleksi's bunk and still said nothing, because by then they were in too much of a hurry to be skin on bare skin that there was no room for words anyway, no need for even those sweet nothings or bittersweet everythings Aleksi wished and feared to hear. 

(Nothings, although they meant everything to Aleksi.)  

((Everythings, in the sense that they could crush him.)) 

(((Sweet, like every single tiny (and not so tiny) bit of Olli was, melting right on Aleksi's tongue like sugar.))) 

((((Bitter, because how else was this all going to end?)))) 

"Hold me," Olli breathed into his ear. Aleksi would have done so without Olli asking him to, for there was little else he could have been holding on to with Olli on top of him, with Olli's chest rubbing Aleksi’s own although Olli's back was as good as pressed against the roof of the bunk. 

There was a new kind of neediness in Olli's voice as he rode Aleksi, a strange new urgency that made his whimpers sound almost like sobs. Aleksi held back his own cries, commanding all the doomsday scenarios off his mind, and guided Olli's mouth to his, into a kiss that felt familiar and reassuring in the middle of all that chaos Aleksi had been building up in his imagination for days. 

"Don't stop," Olli spoke into his mouth even with Aleksi's seed already inside him and his own having spilled all over Aleksi stomach and chest. "Take me again," Olli asked, his hips still rolling. 

'Take me, one last time,' Aleksi heard Olli's voice in his head, and flipped him over to his back.  

"Fuck me, Ale," Olli demanded from him, even though Aleksi was already balls deep inside him. 

'Fuck me now, because after this I won't let you anymore.'  

"Show me how much you want me," Olli pleaded, and Aleksi could've laughed against Olli's neck if he hadn't wanted to cry instead. 

His each and every cell craved for Olli; his every thought and action guided him towards the man; he was on his way to fill him a second time that night – what more could he have done to show him? 

'Show me how much you want me–’ Olli’s voice echoed in Aleksi's head. Just the sound of it was enough to help him climax again…

'–because you will never have me.' 

(...despite everything.)

~ 

Olli was still asleep next to him when Aleksi awakened the morning after. It wasn't the first time, but somehow it felt like it was. 

"No," Olli mumbled like a 3-year-old when Aleksi tried to climb over him and venture after the scent of freshly picked-up Starbucks. Instead, he was caught in the trap of Olli's mouth and in the hook of his arms and legs that wrapped around him, like they had done the night before, keeping Aleksi in place until he gave in, until he stopped fighting his head again.

In the pitfall of Olli's embrace, the sweetness of his poison having stunned him, it was too easy to not care if anyone still sleeping away their night-before might hear them move together, mouths locked and hands clasped and cocks grinding as if a new day had dawned just for the purpose of them doing so – what waste would it have been to not take advantage of it? 

Finally free from the siren's spell (although only physically), Aleksi headed downstairs and tried not to stumble on the scattered sneakers on his way. He didn’t want to be as weak as he was and kept his eyes on the sweaty shoes, just so he wouldn’t turn and see if Olli was still looking at him from the bunk corridor. 

He probably would have turned eventually, if he hadn't then felt a hand grasp his just when he reached the stairs. 

A quick kiss to the bone of his cheek, a nose to his temple, then a gentle push to urge him down the steps. A hand still in his; still when the others greeted them with sleepy g'mornings; still when they sat down across Tommi who barely even cared (Aleksi decided the subtle smirk that visited on the man's lips was about something else entirely). 

Olli's head was on Aleksi’s shoulder suddenly, and it took embarrassingly long for Aleksi to even realise. Tommi hadn’t, or at least he hid it well; Joel hadn’t, but he had his phone in his hand; Joonas hadn’t, unless he was psychic and could see things even with his eyes closed as he sat half-asleep beside them; Niko had, judging by the angle of his eyebrows and the purse of his lips holding back amusement, but he was a little shit anyway.  

Maybe, all those things considered, Aleksi could find the boldness it took to kiss the top of Olli’s head, and perhaps even let his nose be buried there for a little too long, just to make his point even clearer. 

(Maybe Olli would cuddle deeper into the sofa and under Aleksi's arm and the world would keep turning; Aleksi’s heart would keep beating instead of breaking, and no one would skin him alive for it.)

((And maybe it wouldn't all crumble and fall apart in Aleksi's palms like a broken tailpipe on whatever US highway they were driving down.))

(((Because maybe there were worst crimes he could commit than falling in love.))) And maybe, Aleksi thought as he felt Olli's silky curls on his lips, it wouldn't be the last time either.

[gachagon]

This whole week I have been in my home with no AC at all and no way to cool off outside of a shitty fan and a spray bottle. If you're not in Texas then you probably don't know that a few days ago a hurricane came through and has left a vast majority of the city without power.

It's been very difficult and the power company (Centerpoint Energy) hasn't responded quick enough or with enough preparation to help everyone.

While this is happening, I've noticed a lot of non Texans saying things they said when the ice storm happened which is that Texas deserves it bc they "voted for this" and all I have to say is that it's an incredibly tone deaf and callous thing to say when the ppl most affected by this are black and Latino people who have been talking about the horrible gerrymandering and voting blocks for years now.

Gleefully tweeting about how you don't feel bad about Houston not having power or that you don't care that ppl are hot bc there's no power is absolutely not appropriate and not the right thing to say at this moment. It wasn't the right thing to say when people were freezing to death in their homes, and it's not the right thing to say now as many people may very well pass from heat exhaustion.

I don't understand why a lot of you people feel so giddy about making fun of ppl for potentially dying due to any number of natural disasters outside of their control. Have some fucking compassion and empathy and realize the people you're mocking aren't your enemies either, they're people exactly like you.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

so like do you think they made the plastic wheelchair ALONGSIDE the plastic prison as a Just In Case situation, only after they realized charles was going to be a frequent visitor, or both as in because they knew charles was going to be the only person visiting him during planning they decided to make him a chair ahead of time

[sluckythewizard]

I LOVE QUEEN SOO MUCH I THINK THEYRE JUST SO SO NEAT AND SILLY... the best thing about a cute character is that u get to draw them all scared and bloody and crying and shaking and upset and you can also put a spider on them

[pnfc]

i haint watched the dang chibisode and idk if ill actually watch it with sound on sdfjk but i have a hurt feeling about them casually imbuing perry with speech for a one off gag because the idea that he needs to talk to communicate is fake. we had 4 seasons of wacky magic hijinks cartoon where perry never needed verbal speech to communicate. they couldve done this gag at any point in the show but they didn't, and the fact that they didn't felt significant. perry's muteness is such a core part of his character, to me, to the way i conceive of him/write him. i don't wanna overreact to a goofy little side cartoon (even tho i'm doing it anyway) but it's still the characters, and it still upsets me! ok that's it i've said my piece

[cent-scratchnsniff]

reread tiphs dialog recently. i love them lots

[rain-on-wax-feathers]

nonhuman burr, washington, and eliza!!!

[hellonerf]

through it all caname having the same face is pretty crucial to it all. because i'm crazy

under the cut because i'm a little crazy and i don't want to deal with people going why are you so crazy. i was just thinking about how they behave to each other and concern and selfishness. i think i portray them a certain way because i rarely think when i draw but anyways. they still project onto each other to insane degrees and them having the same face doesn't help it at all. in their worst moments they'll see the other as more of a "___ version" of them. it really is like that image with the model of someones model in someones head What okay

i actually think cana is guilty of this a lot but i'm gonna be honest i think about canada's stream of thought more these days because ame is too much of a coping freak to me sometimes. i think he displays a lot of concern and worry for ame but it's not entirely selfless. i don't think he's that selfless. like i think if ame met someone and for whatever reason that other person made ame improve himself and actually be better cana would feel pretty empty about that. well ok i just think they're crazy with each other. it's not even really that he wants to be responsible for him it's just if he, as he is, as his relationship with ame is, turned out to be completely unremarkable to ame he'd like shoot himself or something. no that was a joke i bring up suicide too fast Sorry. sometimes i think his anger with ame is more about himself. not to say he has no reason to want to beat his shit in but more that he himself is also an enabler and not an innocent person it feels reflected back to him 😇 and he crazy hates himself. cana living in his own head and mumbling all his frustrations about himself and other people only to himself is the kind of cause for a tunnel vision self centeredness. when he gets aware of this he starts slamming his head in the wall. it's kind of a feedback loop with being reclusive...

i'm too assed to string into words what i think their deal with what they desire from one another is. i actually think they want similar things but if not a lack of communication then the way they'd want it is too different from each other to work. caname can never work guys it's so over. i have to yandere kill everyone else on their behalf to force them together it's so over. like i think cana thinks ame is a psycho unreliable arrogant asshole and ame thinks cana is a stupid lying coward bitch with no spine but they're also bffs and also the same person(wrong)(this is why everything is wrong) and they want the other to Understaaand them. in the true way. in the True way 🌤️ ame is like ohhh i'm eternally alone ohhhhh this fucking sucks and this spineless fag i call my brother is my last hope 😭😭😭(exaggeration) and he still doesn't know anything. ohhh you don't know anything about about This worlddd this world we're in....(attempts suicide for the 1000th time) and cana is like all my relationships are pointless and nobody likes each other including me. and there's my brother who doesn't care about anything but himself and mindlessly causes harm to everything. what do i even do😭😭😭 i'm tired. i think at random cana will be like No OMG this is horrible i can make this not horrible(yes?maybe?) which is like the context for that drawing where he hugs ame and doesn't let go when he yells and pushes him i think. you genuinely have to rip their skins off to get them anywhere. wow. KILL YOURSELF CANAME 😭😭😭😭😭

they're too cringe aware that's why they will never even kiss. that won't stop me from drawing them kissing and getting married because i don't care i like to play with dolls. caname is good. caname is a net positive. caname is actually so sweet and encouraging and super nice to each other and i'm a maniac