#not to mention a variety of weather

[daisywords]

...

[ruhua-langblr]

Duolingo Sucks, Now What?: A Guide

Now that the quality of Duolingo has fallen (even more) due to AI and people are more willing to make the jump here are just some alternative apps and what languages they have:

"I just want an identical experience to DL"

Busuu (Languages: Spanish, Japanese, French, English, German, Dutch, Italian, Portuguese, Chinese, Polish, Turkish, Russian, Arabic, Korean)

"I want a good audio-based app"

Language Transfer (Languages: French, Swahili, Italian, Greek, German, Turkish, Arabic, Spanish, English for Spanish Speakers)

"I want a good audio-based app and money's no object"

Pimsleur (Literally so many languages)

Glossika (Also a lot of languages, but minority languages are free)

*anecdote: I borrowed my brother's Japanese Pimsleur CD as a kid and I still remember how to say the weather is nice over a decade later. You can find the CDs at libraries and "other" places I'm sure.

"I have a pretty neat library card"

Mango (Languages: So many and the endangered/Indigenous courses are free even if you don't have a library that has a partnership with Mango)

Transparent Language: (Languages: THE MOST! Also the one that has the widest variety of African languages! Perhaps the most diverse in ESL and learning a foreign language not in English)

"I want SRS flashcards and have an android"

AnkiDroid: (Theoretically all languages, pre-made decks can be found easily)

"I want SRS flashcards and I have an iphone"

AnkiApp: It's almost as good as AnkiDroid and free compared to the official Anki app for iphone

"I don't mind ads and just want to learn Korean"

lingory

"I want an app made for Mandarin that's BETTER than DL and has multiple languages to learn Mandarin in"

ChineseSkill (You can use their older version of the course for free)

"I don't like any of these apps you mentioned already, give me one more"

Bunpo: (Languages: Japanese, Spanish, French, German, Korean, and Mandarin)

[pyrriax]

losing my mind losing my mind losing my mind losing my mind

[free-slutt]

𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕 𝙒𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀…

lots and lots of cuddles

after a long and exhausting day on set, he would eagerly come home, looking forward to seeing you, embracing you, and making you feel safe and comfortable with his affectionate kisses and warm embraces.

face time calls

through out his day he would call up just to check in on you and fill you in about how his day was going and making sure you're okay especially when he's not in town

movie marathons

it's so heartwarming to see how much nicholas enjoys watching movies and finding inspiration from them, especially those featuring his favorite actors. it's lovely that he makes time to relax and enjoy some quality time with you, even if it's just a quiet evening in, ordering food and watching a movie together.

“baby look at this part you can’t miss it it’s so good”

pet names

he is an incredibly loving and caring boyfriend. the way he uses endearing names for you makes you feel so loved and gives you butterflies every time. It's heartwarming for him to see how much these little gestures mean to you, especially with the variety of names he uses throughout the week. It's clear to him that those moments are truly special to you some of his favorites are

doll

baby

lover

sweetie

darling

pda (public display of affection)

nicholas shows everyone how much he cares about you by sharing photos of your time together on Instagram, holding your hand in public, and being affectionate with you. he likes to show the world that you are together by giving you random kisses and standing behind you like your personal bodyguard

trips

you both have a shared passion for exploring the world, which is one of his favorite things to do when he has some time off from his hectic schedule. despite being booked and busy, he enjoys taking you out of the country to discover new places. seeing your smile and experiencing new cultures together warms his heart, knowing that he's bringing you joy and creating lasting memories together.

cooking together

even when you enjoy being the chef of the house and in the relationship, nicholas will always be there by your side, assisting you with chopping vegetables or handing you the seasonings. sometimes, when the weather is nice, he takes charge of the grill while you prepare the side dishes in the kitchen. afterwards, you both share some drinks and enjoy the meal that you created together.

spoiling you

nicholas enjoys taking you shopping or picking up things for you and bringing them home, which was initially a pleasant surprise. however, as it has become a daily occurrence, you've grown accustomed to it. he brings you various items, such as jewelry, roses, or your favorite snacks. uou've mentioned to him that it's not necessary for the gifts to be expensive, as it's the thought behind them that truly matters.

sex sex sex

oh boy, every morning, every day, every night when he’s not in town it’s over the phone. pictures here and there teasing him while he’s at work to the point where he has to excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to head to the car or the bathroom to get himself off. anywhere in the house the bathroom, the shower, the living room, the kitchen, the dining room table, the floor, the bed, outside, the patio area, or in the car no matter where you two are when he craves you he wants you right there and of course, you say yes as you love to please him. you two are in love there’s definitely no denying that.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hi!! i hope you like this little fic i wrote i will be writing a longer one soon don’t worry xx

remember feel free to ask or submit any requests

[badgertracksart]

Portfolio advice, from a lead who hires Concept Artists

(This was originally a twitter thread I wrote before the site self imolated, hense it's strange structure.) I wrote this after a weekend of portfolio reviews - 1. Like a maths exam, please please show your working. I want to see thumbs options, mid options and of course a final design.

2. Arrange your portfolio, I don't want to bounce about between subject matter and pipeline. Your portfolio's narrative should be as strong as your work... 3. Please make worlds that excite the viewer, make them want to go in and explore them, explain to them the interesting parts of the town, or the way the character's hat unfolds. How will this draw the viewer in? 4. As I've said before the majority of your project work is explanatory not mood, make sure your portfolio contains explanatory work. Explained here -

5. A lot of beautiful post apocolyptic paintings, , but 80% of realistic games and film, we just give the environment artists photo ref, they are capable artists in their own right. Different work in stylised where you do need to create rules for how things can be translated. 6. Production art contains call out sheets, material references and flat graphics. This doesn't have to be your final image, but it should support it.

7. Design characters on a swatch(es) of the environment they will be viewed in. Not on white. I make swatch backgrounds from screenshots, it avoids assumptions that damage readability. 8. Reverse of this, put people in your environments, show me the scale.

9. It's not a deal breaker for a review, but if you intend to get a job, please show me your work on a screen larger than a smartphone (print outs probably the cheapest option with the best battery life). 10. Please have your contact details clearly visible, and by that I mean email address, I will not pass your social media contact on, I cannot input your form into my tracking system. EMAIL ADDRESS emblazoned and bake it in, sometimes recruiters do funky stuff to pdfs

11. Your portfolio will never feel done, not to you anyway. You will have learnt from your latest pieces and want to apply it to older work. But we know art is a journey. Send your portfolio anyway. I've been in the industry 10+ years and my portfolio is still not 'finished'. 12. If you are applying to an environment centric Concept Art position then please vary your times of day! Golden hour is cool but show me some happy sunny days, looming overcast days, what about at night? Vary your weather too! Sunny snowy day? Rainy Spring day? Stormy night?

13. If you are applying for a character centric Concept Art role then please ensure your portfolio shows a variety of body types and ethnicities. 14. Designing characters for games? Please show back views and feet (!) Many potfolios contain only front views. This is a problem because:

You haven't shown you are considering the design from all angles.

In many games rear view is the main view.

Stop cropping feet.

15. If you are entry / graduating and looking at Portfolios to compare content and standard of yr own work too, look at hired grad/junior artists as opposed to seniors Seniors and leads often have old or personal work in their portfolio which isnt representative of the day job. 16a. Show clearly the intended use case for your Concept Art. Mention the game type in the description. Are these player character designs for a 3rd person adventure game? Then more back views please. Bonus points for diagetic ways of showing health / equipment / role etc.

16b. Are these designs for an FPS? Then really the player view of the gun needs to sell the player style/ choices, in an FPS your weapons are almost your character. Are these world designs? What's the view distance? For an RTS your shapes need to read from above & a distance. 16c. The lack of clarification means I am judging the design in isolation, which both harms the design (you might be considering the backview of a char as the main adventure character.) Or an NPC, their waist up expressions may be important for conveying exposition and mechanics.

16d. Concept art is not separate from gameplay, great concept art serves the game team before it is a good illustration.

17. Play games. A variety of games. Think about them. IMO to be a good concept artist you need to understand the common language & references used by your peers. Also understand the principles and common language your audience are used to. FPS design rules are v.diff from RTS.

18. There are many skills that are needed in concept art, please show them. For example: Graphic design - logos, liveries, typographic use etc. VFX concepts - Abilities, Ambience, motion concepts. Architectural knowledge - How buildings are built! & more but I'm out of space :O

[kittygowrite]

Midwest Girl

Warnings: F!reader, hunting mention, (just in case) slight gore/blood description, extreme weather mention (tornado sirens), just self indulgent fluff

An: trying my hand at a drabble 😌 (a very long drabble… more like a poorly formatted fic) saw this post by @succubusvalentine and just needed to write Simon with a Midwest girl lol. Lil disclaimer, this is based on my own experience in the Midwest and where I live in it (omg it's huge there's so much variety in the culture)

(Read on AO3)

Word count: almost 800

Simon with a Midwest girl that absolutely fascinates him.

You were always so sweet and polite, a small smile would pull at his lips every time you said “ope.”

If you were surprised, bumping into something, or remembering something, every single one would be accompanied by a little “ope!”

Or when you would walk past him, a little “let me just squeeze right past ya...” he would be fighting off a grin.

The politeness wasn't a personal thing though.

The first time a stranger started talking to him at the grocery store, he thought they were insane. When his sweet girl started chatting with the older lady who had commented on the tomatoes Simon was holding, he thought you had fallen off the deep end as well. But that's just how you were. His sweet thing, sharing your sugar with the neighbors, helping with their gardens, bringing over dinner or other comforts whenever someone fell on hard times.

Your food reminded him of what home ought to feel like, all comforting and warm. Whether it be your mother's “famous” chili, a casserole brought to a potluck to celebrate some small town holiday, or a simple pasty warming his fingers in the heart of winter, Simon could never get enough.

While there were quite a few things he hesitated to eat, shoving a bite into his mouth usually shut him up and had him devouring the rest, despite the odd name or questionable ingredients.

The weather was its own situation.

The tornado sirens are blaring, he's grabbing things to hide in the basement and wait out the weather, following the safe and logical protocol. Searching high and low for his sweet girl, just to find you lounging on the porch, a bottle of Faygo in hand, watching the sky swirl and shift with a content smile. Brushing him off when he frantically tries to usher you inside, nodding to your neighbors who are all doing the same, outside despite the sirens screaming for you to hide inside where it’s safe. (Of course, if it actually got bad, you would go inside, but it would take a while to get to that point.)

The temperature changes were intense, 20’s and freezing his fingers off one day, 60’s and driving with the windows down the next, it was enough to give him whiplash.

Not to mention the god-awful winters. He would think you were insane for wearing just a T-shirt and jeans when it's nearly in the 30s. You would just smile and wave him off, laughing when the usually stoic man would be reduced to grumbles about the cold bite.

The chill in Manchester was enough for him to be tugging on a winter coat so the colder temperatures were less than comfortable. He would be bundled up in long johns, flannel, a down coat, mittens, and a scarf wrapped over a thick woolly balaclava you had gifted him for the holidays and he would still be shivering like a wet kitten.

It’s hitting the negatives and you’re unbothered.

“It’s not so bad without the wind.” You happily tell him, as if his nose wasn’t numb and his fingers stiff from the glacial weather. He had to buy a proper pair of winter shoes, his assumption that his combat boots would be fine stomping through the snow. After a too-close dance with frostbite, he caved and bought a real pair of snow boots.

The way you interacted with wildlife never failed to amaze him either. Shooing off a raccoon or coyote that was pawing through your trash. Feeding the birds and squirrels, not batting an eye as a deer walks past.

Growing up in Manchester, he had seen his share of wildlife, but it was so different in the States. The deer were bigger, coyotes would bark and scream like banshees in the night, and don't even get him started when he saw a moose for the first time.

But Simon whose girl goes hunting or fishing? He’s whipped.

You’ve got antlers on your walls, maybe a hide or two kicking around. His eyes would nearly pop out of his head when he walked into the garage to be met with the sight of his sweet girl elbow-deep in fish guts, scaling and gutting the fish with practiced efficiency. Blood splattered on your arms and a smudge on your cheek as you smiled at him and handed him a plate of fish to bring inside.

He would laugh at first, the need for a freezer in the garage seemingly useless. But come hunting season, when it was filled with rabbit, venison, and wild turkey, he changed his mind quite quickly.

You had your quirks, but you were his. And he wouldn’t trade his sweet Midwest girl for anything.

An: I had a lot of fun writing this! Like I said, it’s based on my own experience with where I live so I’m sorry if this isn’t how you’ve experienced it! Feedback is always appreciated <3

Taglist: @pythonmoth @hattiefunny @daydreamerwoah @bi-sk8er @sweetheart4you @shinebright2000

[jenscx]

APPLE CIDER — nakamura kazuha

you’ve fallen in love with many things, like the mango ice-blend down the street, the weather after a rainy day and the puppy that you see on your morning walk. but nothing’s been easier to fall in love with than yunjin’s roommate.

tags fluff, sprinkle of angst, kinda crack fic, non-idol au, jealousy, non-established relationship, falling in love, my puppy zuha agenda, mentions of lesserafim and ive members, squint for annyeongz, basketballer!zuha that appears for one sec, mentions of drinking, cursing

wordcount 10.9k

you’re well-accustomed to yunjin’s antics. she constantly gets you into trouble, either embarrassing you or just involving you in her pranks. like doing silly tiktok trends on your friends or random strangers. you still feel a shiver of mortification when you recall the situations you’ve been roped into. 

yet, as yunjin’s self-proclaimed best friend, this might be the worst thing she’s ever done. 

the girl had forced, or in her words, heavily encouraged you to find a new roommate this semester. you think it’s because she’s tired of you nagging her for not doing the dishes. anyway, despite your reluctance, you managed to befriend someone from your social politics class and become her roommate. chaewon was like a breeze of fresh air from yunjin. sure, yunjin was your best friend, but it felt incredible to have some peace and quiet in the apartment for once.

chaewon was constantly out for practice with her cheer team which gave you some alone time to just unwind, something that you didn’t have the luxury of when dorming with yunjin. despite the newly formed distance between you and yunjin, the latter had still managed to see you almost every day. she was dorming alone because her previous roommate left the school, causing administration to give her the whole apartment. what would normally be a gift, was a punishment for yunjin, who could not survive a day without human interaction.

hence, she insisted on coming over to your dorm almost daily. it was common to just find her lazing on the couch when you came back from classes, or seeing her back at the kitchen counter, cooking something. 

which brings you to your current situation of standing out in the sun, groceries in hand, in front of yunjin’s door. it was a whole other building from your block and the weather was particularly harsh today. you tap your foot impatiently, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. the paper bags were heavy, filled with a variety of ingredients that yunjin demanded you buy. apparently she was hosting some sort of dinner. you had no clue what the girl was doing half the time. 

yet, with the designated role of yunjin’s best friend, you had to skip out on lunch with chaewon to visit her dorm. sighing, you call yunjin’s phone again, but to no avail. as it rings, you press the doorbell again. why wasn’t yunjin answering? she literally told you to come earlier but was she even at home?

groaning, you thump your head against the door. as it hits the wooden frame, the door swings open, and the force nearly makes you topple over.

“motherfu—”

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you immediately halt in your curses. this wasn’t yunjin’s loud, boisterous voice. it was smooth and sweet. and in a different language.  

you tilt your head up, almost gasping at the stranger. your body was crouched down, but even from below, you could tell she was tall. maybe almost as tall as yunjin. her doe eyes were wide with shock and her glossy lips were parted. stunned in silence, you hastily get back up. clearing your throat, you bow your head slightly, “i’m so sorry.”

as you lift your head, you realise something.

the girl only had a towel wrapped around her.

blood rushes straight to your head. you feel your entire body burn with embarrassment as you look away swiftly.

“uh— sorry,” the girl mumbles, “who are you?”

you gulp, still facing away, “i’m looking for huh yunjin.”

“oh, i’m her roommate,” she says. you turn back to her, gaping. since when did yunjin have a roommate? that girl had some explaining to do. 

“you can come in,” the girl stands aside, her dark hair still dripping, “i’ll just, uh, go change.” you nod stiffly before walking in. the apartment hasn’t changed much from the last time you came. yet, there was a new addition to the framed photos perched on the shelves. you place the bags of groceries onto the kitchen island and walk back to the living room. as yunjin’s roommate heads into her room, you observe the photograph.

it holds a background of cherry blossom trees and standing in front of the wood is a young girl, reminiscent of yunjin’s roommate. if you had to guess, she would probably be eleven or twelve in the photo. even when she was young, she was already pretty. you couldn’t deny that fact. from her crinkled eyes to the curve of her lips, you wondered what her parents looked like to be able to birth such a cute kid.

the sound of a door creaking open pulls you away from the photo. yunjin’s roommate was now dressed in an oversized t-shirt that reached the top of her knees. a small towel was flung over her head, draping her hair. 

you decide it’s now an appropriate time to introduce yourself.

“sorry for barging in like that,” you grimace, holding out a hand, “i’m y/n, yunjin’s friend. she told me to come over and i wasn’t expecting to see someone new.” 

the girl nods, “i’m kazuha, nakamura kazuha.” her korean sounds a little hesitant and you note it off as her being a foreigner. she added, “yunjin’s roommate.”

“ah, i didn’t know she had a new roommate,” you say sheepishly. it was definitely yunjin’s fault here but you still didn’t want a pretty girl’s first impression of you to be so ridiculous.

“it’s okay,” kazuha says thoughtfully, “i moved in… maybe three days ago?”

no wonder yunjin hasn’t said anything to you. 

“i see.”

silence falls between you two and kazuha strides to the couch, flopping onto it.

“do you want to sit?”

it’s cute— the way she offers. as if it’s your first time coming over. despite your amusement, you humour her and sit down, a distance away from her.

“are you from japan?” you decide to ask. it’s a good conversation starter in your opinion. if the cherry blossoms didn’t indicate her ethnicity, the startled japanese that escaped her previously was a dead giveaway.

“mhm,” she hums, “i’m from osaka.”

this piques your interest. 

“oh, i heard that people from osaka are funny,” you state. it was probably from an instagram reel that yunjin had shown you weeks ago. 

kazuha shrugs, “i think i’m okay.”

somehow, even though she didn’t mean for it to be funny, you still find yourself chuckling uncontrollably. kazuha stares at you, probably weirded out, but too nice to say it.

“sorry,” you apologise again, “it’s just the way you said it.”

she frowns, “maybe i’m funnier than i thought.”

“yeah,” you smile, “you are.”

kazuha peers blankly at the unmoving tv screen, suddenly finding the black void to be very interesting. you decide to break the tension once again by asking, “do you know when yunjin’s coming back?”

“uh, no. i told her i was going to shower. she just left,” kazuha replies in broken sentences.

you sigh, defeated. checking your phone again, there’s a flurry of texts from the girl.

y/n 🤓 [4.16pm]:

open up

hey.

girl open up rn

hello??

are u srs

i’m gna break down ur door

yunjin 😍🥰 [4.47pm]:

OMGGG DONT DO THAT

im COMING

WAIT A MIN

ARE U WITH MY ROOMMATE?

glancing at the messages again, you decide it’s probably useless to reply and you turn off your phone, choosing to focus on the restless girl next to you. leaning back on the couch, you take the opportunity to admire her features. even in your haste, you managed to spot the sharpness of her collarbones and jawline. now, facing away from you, you could evidently see her broad shoulders and the bobbling of her throat when she swallowed.

damn, god did have his favourites.

“what are you majoring in?” you ask.

kazuha flinches slightly before answering, “dance.”

“oh, that’s…” you mumble lamely, “cool.”

she smiles, “what about you?”

she has a pretty smile too.

“bio medical.”

“you don’t look like a science person,” kazuha remarks. you can only raise an eyebrow. did she mean you look dumb? as if sensing your inner thoughts, she continues, “you look like you major in the arts.”

as you’re about to say something, the front door barges open, revealing a sweaty and panting yunjin who looks like she just ran a marathon. you scrunch your nose at the girl who only points an accusing finger at you, “choi y/n, you left me on read!”

raising your hands in mock innocence, “that’s not a crime.”

“it is when you’re corrupting my sweet zuha here!” yunjin exclaims, almost throwing herself over the coffee table into kazuha’s body. the girl jolts and swerves away as yunjin collapses on the couch.

“ew, you’re getting your sweat everywhere,” you huff, smacking yunjin on her back, “and i wasn’t corrupting anybody. i’m trying to have a nice conversation, right kazuha?”

the mentioned girl only nods hesitantly, her eyes wide and full of surprise. yunjin moans, “she told me she was going to shower and the next moment you text me. my roommate was naked and vulnerable and you’re a raging homo. i was connecting the dots!”

your entire face heats up as you recall the humiliating experience, probably worse for kazuha who looks like she’s about to faint.

“you didn’t connect shit!” you scoff as yunjin climbs onto you, gripping your hand. pushing her off and dusting your clothes, you flick her forehead, “i bought your things for you, so hurry up and pay me back.”

yunjin pouts, “isn’t my presence payment enough?”

you give kazuha the stink eye as she stifles a laugh.

“no,” you deadpan, “pay up.”

your best friend merely sighs and pulls out her phone, transferring you fifty thousand won. 

“anyway,” yunjin turns to kazuha cheerfully, “wanna stay for dinner, roomie?”

through an extremely awkward and silent dinner which mostly consisted of yunjin talking, you learn that due to some flight issues, kazuha could only attend school at its midpoint. even from a glance, you could tell the girl was timid and shy but the language barrier only further strained her social skills. additionally, she had been forced into rooming with yunjin. the shocked expressions she carried whenever yunjin did something strange only attested to her unfamiliarity with the girl.

despite their lack of closeness, yunjin still somehow manages to carry the conversation smoothly. you juggle between checking on kazuha and admiring your best friend’s ability to be so shameless.

“zuha,” yunjin mumbles through a spoonful of rice, “do you like blackpink? or are you a bts fan?”

you scoff at yunjin’s obsessive question. it was so evident that she wanted to ensure kazuha was a fan akin to her.

kazuha, however, brightens up and instead exclaims cheerfully, “i’m a blink!”

you can only guffaw at the incredulous look yunjin carries. 

“me too,” you say, filling in the previous silence due to yunjin’s despair, “i like jisoo.”

“really?!” kazuha gasps, “my bias is jennie!”

as you converse with kazuha about blackpink’s unfortunate absence, yunjin only grumbles and stuffs her face full of food.

it’s been a few weeks since you first met kazuha. yunjin constantly invites you over rather than going to your dorm because she needs her two favourite people in the same space or whatever. you’re pretty certain she said the same thing to chaewon the other day. the older girl had also been introduced to kazuha, albeit begrudgingly because according to chaewon, anyone that spends time with yunjin willingly was probably a spawn of the devil. you don’t necessarily disagree.

you spend your day studying and going to classes, and your nights playing mario kart and monopoly with your friends. yunjin had proudly declared friday to be the designated game night and somehow, chaewon managed to persuade another person into joining. just when you thought you would survive the hangouts, with the newest addition of sakura, who always beats yunjin and chaewon in video games, your chances of being able to hear diminishes every night. it’s something you can connect to kazuha with. the presence of the older japanese has gradually caused kazuha to warm up.

it’s a little silly how shy and sheepish the girl was at the beginning, but now after spending time with everyone, it’s normal to hear rapid fire korean erupt from her mouth. you often find her indulging in arguments with yunjin about the best ice cream flavour or which dog breed was the cutest. yunjin vouches for golden retrievers while kazuha vouches for samoyeds. you think they both remind you of puppies— overeager, almost towering puppies with too much energy.

if yunjin was loud, unashamedly herself, kazuha would be the opposite. you would see her staring into space, muttering to herself. it’s endearing watching how her eyes light up as sakura explains the basics of super smash bros to her. you learn that she didn’t have much of a free childhood, having to attend ballet lessons instead of going to sleepovers and playing video games.

“so you’ve never played super smash bros?” it’s funny the way kazuha cowers at the sight of sakura, who’s grasping her shoulders and shaking her intensely. as kazuha recovers, she mumbles feebly, “no… i didn’t even know it existed.”

her response only lights a fire within sakura who vows to make kazuha the best super smash bros player to ever exist. after her, of course. and somehow, it become a routine to also find sakura and kazuha huddled up in front of the television on the floor, both insistently smashing the buttons on the joycon. sometimes you stay and watch their games, other times you head into yunjin’s room to study. most of the time, you stay for dinner. chaewon has become expectant of your message popping up, reminding her that you won’t be home until after dinner. it’s normal that you would end up staying the night at yunjin’s now. yet, the close proximity with her roommate doesn’t aid you in your quest to befriend her at all.

almost every time you see her, it’s like meeting a distant relative. awkward. stifling. you’re always unsure of what to say. sometimes you wish you could run your mouth like yunjin, blabbing about random nonsense without any shame. but it’s difficult to talk to kazuha alone. at least in a group environment, you would have someone else to rely on.

you’re lounging on the couch again, biting the tip of your pen as you read through the numerous textbooks and notes for your upcoming test. too engrossed in your revision, you don’t notice the door swinging open.

hence, when a gush of hot air breezes past your ear, you jump. the fear dissipates any form of hesitance you have. swirling around, you clutch your chest as you reprimand, “don’t sneak up on me like that!”

kazuha only stares at you with wide eyes, a smug smile plastered across her face. you’ve seen her with that expression countless times now, always during game night when she wins second place in mario kart.

“are you studying?”

“yeah,” you scoff, still trying to calm your racing heart. your thick, black-framed glasses have almost slid down your nose entirely. pushing them up, you sigh, “back from practice?”

the girl nods. another new development. instead of joining the dance team— which you’re certain kazuha would be amazing in, she decided to join basketball with yunjin. a strange decision, no doubt, but the way yunjin speaks about kazuha during games makes it seem like she’s the next lebron. unfortunately your busy schedule hasn’t wavered at all, so you couldn’t attend any of their games this semester.

“yunjin tackled me today,” kazuha pouts. you allow yourself to pat her head encouragingly, “isn’t that a foul?”

“she said it was an accident,” the girl shrugs. it’s kind of believable. yunjin is clumsy and you have been on the receiving end of her tendency to fall on you. perhaps that was mistaken as a tackle.

you ruffle her hair, not minding the sweat dripping down from her bangs at all. it’s a little attractive seeing kazuha all sweaty.

“maybe it really was an accident,” you comment. kazuha’s face immediately turns sour. for a girl that is able to maintain her cheery look most of the time, seeing the drastic change in her facial expression makes you panic.

“ah… i meant…”

“why are you taking yunjin’s side over mine?” kazuha asks and god— you feel sorry for using his name in vain, but oh my god, kazuha whines. you’ve never seen her this way before.

you resist the urge to coo at her, knowing that she would only take it as an insult to her pride.

“yunjin’s clumsy,” you state, “and she wouldn’t harm you intentionally.”

kazuha turns away, still sulking, “i guess…”

she looks like a puppy who just received a scolding and if she had dog ears, they definitely would be drooping down now. you internally giggle at her cuteness.

“forgive the giraffe this one time, okay? i’ll scold her if she tackles you again,” you say, smiling. kazuha swerves back, nodding fervently, “yes, please do that.”

even though there’s barely an age gap between you and kazuha, you still feel a ravangeous need to protect the girl, as if she was a baby. sometimes you forget that kazuha’s not used to the culture here and you get to admire the childlike curiosity in her eyes. it’s an interesting sight to see, like she was experiencing her first life. you wonder, in the back of your mind, if you ever existed in her past ones.

there’s a lingering silence left after, almost a twinge of awkwardness in the air. you’re not sure what else to say to kazuha. but maybe she doesn’t feel the same— her body, lax, as she heads towards the washroom, humming what seems to be the melody of ‘playing with fire’. you laugh internally at her fanatic side. even if it’s not as overbearing as yunjin’s, kazuha definitely still is a dedicated fan. one time, you had to wake kazuha up from her nap, only to discover that her walls were lined with posters. maybe yunjin and kazuha bonded so easily over their love for their idols.

you hear the distant ruffling of the shower curtain and then the sound of water droplets splashing against the floor. leaning back into the couch, you try to resume your revision, eyes swarming over the textbooks sprawled all over. your efforts are fruitful, at first. at least you understand most of the content but eventually, your eyelids grow heavy and the muscles in your hand ache. taking a deep breath, you bring a sole textbook up, reading the paragraphs of definitions and explanations.

soon, your breathing turns slow and there’s an overwhelming need for your eyes to close. darkness fills your vision as your body slackens, sinking deeper into the softness of yunjin’s couch.

there’s a distant shuffling sound, far away from your ears. as you dream about emptiness, a warm embrace is thrown over your body, enveloping and engulfing your limbs in a tight hug.

sometimes you think that kazuha doesn’t like you. it’s a harrowing worry that creeps its way into your heart when kazuha sends you a hesitant smile after you had offered to go to the library together. it made sense to you— she needed to research something and you needed to complete your thesis. but that stupid smile followed by, “no, it’s fine. i’m meeting someone,” nearly breaks your heart. it’s a stupid feeling caused by an even stupider reason.

by no means are you jealous that kazuha’s going out with someone else, it’s just her rejection of you heading to the library together. why else would kazuha say no if she didn’t like you? was it that she couldn’t even bear the ten minute walk to the library? you had only swallowed harshly, trying to tide your tears over by looking back down at your textbook. yunjin’s in the kitchen, singing joyfully while she bakes a cake for whatever reason; you might have heard her mention that it was for somi’s birthday or whatever. thus, you can’t hide behind yunjin now.

you’ve never been so upset and bothered by a rejection before. and it was just a trip to the library together. yet, the feeling buries itself in your stomach, dragging it down into a bottomless pit while you bear it.

“have fun,” is what you reply. it’s dry but you can’t really bring yourself to act all excited and happy. just as kazuha’s about to leave, backpack in hand and her hair tied into two cute braids, she takes one look at you.

“are you okay?”

the concern in her voice feels uncomfortable, sheathing under your skin and prickling your veins.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you respond. kazuha only shrugs and waves goodbye while you resort to moping on the couch.

when yunjin calls for you to taste the cake, she doesn’t mention the hint of dried tears clinging below your eyelashes, only wrapping an arm around your shoulder and feeding you the dessert.

but she breaks the spell immediately when she blurts out, “cheer up, honeybun.”

“who the fuck is honeybun?” you retort, disgusted, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just transpired.

you hate early classes. the sun is barely up and you’re already trudging into the classroom, eyes barely open. it’s irrefutable that you got a ton of sleep last night, or last afternoon, but now you’re heading into the lion’s den. due to your unpredicted loss of consciousness, you didn’t have the time to watch any of the tutorials uploaded previously and hence, you didn’t know a single bit of the covered content.

just as you settle into your seat, yujin, one of your classmates, slides into the seat next to you.

“were you studying last night?” she asks. you only feel worse about your dark, sagging eyebags even though you got plenty of rest.

“yeah, kind of,” you answer noncommittally.

yujin sighs, running her fingers through her bangs, which are quite long now, “i think i’m screwed for this quiz.”

you slowly turn your head, a frown on your face, “…quiz?” the realisation sinks in, just like how your head slams onto the table. yujin, startled, quickly asks if you’re okay but all you can think about is the looming thought of the blaring red zero on your paper.

“i didn’t study anything!” you moan, voice muffled by the table. yujin winces, “well, at least we’re failing together.”

you flip over, staring at yujin. she seems a little different today. her previously long luscious hair had been trimmed to a shoulder-length shaggy cut. you recall that she had been dumped by her girlfriend, your senior, kim minju and yujin had gone through a phase of reinventing herself because— no way in hell am i going to let an aquarius ruin my life, yujin’s words. the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. after becoming single, yujin embarked on a self-discovery journey which you would describe as going to every single party and getting shit-faced. her previously brown hair was dyed back to jet black because apparently girls liked black hair now, according to yujin. you didn’t question it, but chaewon, who was also a friend of yujin’s, had nodded encouragingly and maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t get it.

the yujin you’re seeing now feels different.

“you like someone new?” you blurt out. yujin’s face turns into one of astonishment before becoming flustered.

“i— where, how— what do you mean?” she splutters. her nervousness only reveals the truth and you lean in closer, “who is it? are you over minju now?”

yujin covers her face and groans loudly, attracting the attention of neighbouring classmates who only glare at her.

“don’t tell anyone, okay?!” yujin demands, “not even chaewon unnie.”

“sure, i’ll keep it a secret.”

she turns around, checking if anyone was eavesdropping before whispering lowly, “jang wonyoung.”

you’re not super shocked. yujin definitely has a type.

“wow. good luck to you then,” you say, referring to the horde of fans the popular girl has. yujin only pouts before nudging you, “what about you? got your eye on anyone?”

your usual reply would be, “no, too busy.” you didn’t have time to daydream about anyone now and your social circle was small too. there wasn’t a high likelihood of you ending up with a crush. maybe eye candy at most. you had no one to even like. literally no one. you think in your head if there’s anyone that has caught your attention in particular. your mouth moves to respond robotically to yujin.

but something stops you from responding that way. a pictorial flash in your mind, just for a fraction of a second. you blink owlishly, and the image’s gone.

“maybe,” you say quietly instead, thinking about bright doe eyes and cherry blossoms.

kazuha’s first instinct when she hears a series of knocks and shouts from outside the apartment is to answer the door. her hastiness causes her to momentarily forget that all she had on was a towel wrapped snugly around her body, fresh out of the shower. she unfortunately doesn’t hesitate when her hands tug around the door knob, revealing a girl who nearly falls in.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” kazuha shrieked as the random girl toppled over, almost hitting her bare chest.

and due to her stunted ability to converse in korean, kazuha couldn’t express herself too well, opting for short replies rather than accidentally saying something wrong. hence, she chose to sit beside you, who she just learnt is her roommate’s best friend, without speaking a word. perhaps you were perturbed by the silence and decided to ease the tension by asking kazuha some basic questions. yet, when faced with your curious, bright eyes, kazuha had no words to say.

this went on for a few days. the first few times you came over, kazuha only watched you from her room (not in a creepy way! she was just shy) and never initiated a conversation. she managed to talk to you once. just once. alone— when you had stumbled into their apartment while kazuha was just finishing her workout. you mentioned that there was a storm going on outside and if you went back home, you would be drenched. kazuha would never want anyone to be sick and thus, she lends you her freshly washed clothes to wear since yunjin’s clothes were too big.

because of your height difference, kazuha’s clothes are still a little oversized but she thinks you look really cute in the university sweater. she had managed to strike up a conversation about your classes, learning that you didn’t really talk to anyone outside of your small social circle and most of your friends were introduced by yunjin. kazuha expects it, the taller girl was easily the most extroverted person she knew and the social butterfly had a ton of friends around campus. yet, kazuha’s still surprised that you didn’t have many friends— you were a really nice and pretty girl, so why wouldn’t people want to be friends with you? she chalks it up as them being intimidated by you, her being a victim as well.

but don’t worry, she’s no longer intimidated by your presence, just a little shy! sometimes you ask to walk together back to yunjin’s dorm, now unofficially yours as well considering the fact that you spend most of your days there instead of your own. kazuha has heard multiple calls from chaewon, demanding to know where you were and if you got kidnapped. she’s not extremely sure why you decide to spend both your weekdays and weekends in their dorms but she has humoured the thought that perhaps you and yunjin were dating. it would certainly explain why you looked so comfortable latching onto the taller girl and when it’s someone like chaewon touching you—

kazuha shakes her head, knowing that thought was incredulous. yunjin herself had told her so firmly and openly that nothing would ever happen between you and her but kazuha still held her doubts. most of the time, kazuha’s unable to reply to your remarks or quips, merely mumbling, “okay,” in the lamest possible way ever. she hates the way your smile drops ever so slightly and the furrow in your eyebrows but she genuinely has no idea how to talk to you.

like that one time, kazuha remembers vividly. lisa’s new song had just dropped and the moment your eyes met hers, you instantly started rambling about the music video. because of her vigorous training beforehand, kazuha barely heard a word you said and she wasn’t that confident with korean either to register the rapid-fire words battering at her.

“wait— can you stop?” the words had come out blunt and direct, definitely not her intention, but your facial expression had softened and you nodded bashfully.

kazuha didn’t want you to stop talking but apparently her words had the opposite effect since you had gotten up from the couch and sauntered off into yunjin’s bedroom.

left alone in the living room, she doesn’t realise that she basically chased you away due to her fatigue, not until you emerge from yunjin’s bedroom again to leave the apartment entirely.

“where are you going?” she blurted out.

you shrugged, “back to my own dorm. i wanna see chaewon.”

kazuha didn’t know what else to reply with, so she just left it as that. hours later, when yunjin comes back from eating dinner with the rest of the team (something kazuha has skipped out on to go home early instead), she gets a light scolding to think before she speaks. kazuha knows now that her words were careless and insensitive but she doesn’t want to blame it on the language barrier.

or maybe that other time when you initiated going to the library together. kazuha already made plans with this other girl in her class called minji and she didn’t want to invite you without minji’s approval first. so the best idea at hand was to reject your invitation, right?

wrong.

the dimmed look in your eyes causes guilt to gnaw in her chest and she instantly regrets her decision. the text message of you lying on yunjin’s shoulder, sent by her roommate, passed out and sleeping, only drives the feeling further. minji had nudged her, asking if she was okay. but kazuha merely nods, not knowing what else she would be— if not okay.

she gets this emotion sometimes; not overwhelming her body but it’s sort of like a quiet hum that keeps her in a trance. she doesn’t know what to call it but she realises it’s been happening around you lately. maybe kazuha just likes the comfort you bring, like an older sister. but it doesn’t feel the same with others. sakura, the closest person kazuha can call family, the feelings that come with her are like a warm embrace. it envelopes her into the feeling of being back home. home as in japan. with her lulling words of kazuha’s mother tongue, it transports her back to osaka.

or like with yunjin, who kazuha considers as one of her closest friends. she can’t call yunjin her best friend since she’s sure that spot is heavily guarded by you but yunjin definitely matters a lot to her. yunjin keeps her safe. she makes her feel comfortable. like a pet, almost? that one family dog that kazuha wishes could stay with her forever.

chaewon, kazuha thinks she’s like an older sister. protective and possessive, even though kazuha doesn’t know her very well. chaewon makes sure to take care of her and whenever she sees kazuha in the hallway, there’s a sweet smile on her face. the older girl also manages to always ask if kazuha has eaten or not, which kazuha appreciates greatly since she easily forgets her meals.

but with you, kazuha doesn’t understand anything. she can’t read you easily compared to yunjin who wears her heart on her sleeve. she knows when you’re upset though, and most of the time, it happens because of her. it’s difficult for her to predict your emotions. you make her feel risky. like she’s dangling on the edge of something, ready to fall any time now.

she gets this feeling when she leaves you alone on the couch. she gets this feeling when you leave her alone on the couch. somehow the couch is always involved.

she gets this feeling when she spots you walking out of the lecture hall, someone’s grip on your elbow and her body fitting snugly to yours. kazuha doesn’t know what to say. she just stares as you laugh at whatever the girl says. the girl’s tall, kazuha notes. her short dark hair framing her face perfectly and giving kazuha a good view of how attractive she is. her eyes are crinkled into an eye smile and her dimples are as deep as the ocean.

you don’t notice kazuha since she’s standing by a corner, wondering if she truly meant to witness this intimate scene between you and someone else. kazuha wonders if that girl is your girlfriend. she wonders why you always hang out at their dorm, despite having a girlfriend. she wonders if yunjin knows and has met your girlfriend.

(not that she’s jealous or anything! she’s just interested in your life! as a friend!)

that same night— a friday, kazuha might add, their friday, game night friday— you don’t show up. she’s been waiting for half an hour now, her eyelids heavy and about to close when yunjin hears her phone ping. kazuha snaps out of it as yunjin reads loudly for everyone to hear, “y/n said she’s not coming. something about having plans already.”

kazuha resists the urge to pout while sakura and chaewom both groan audibly.

“she couldn’t have said that sooner?” sakura grumbles while she starts the mario kart round, her joycon moving rapidly to select the stage. just as the light turns green, kazuha glances at your empty seat and suddenly, she gets that feeling again.

“must be yujinie,” chaewon remarks and kazuha suddenly strange. despite being in her own home, she feels unfamiliar. who is this yujinie? why did chaewon know her too? did everyone just know your girlfriend before she came? kazuha bites the inside of her cheek as she passes the finish line, a few seconds after sakura. in the background, she hears yunjin and chaewon arguing. it all becomes muffled once she stares at the untouched bowl of popcorn you would usually be eating.

she doesn’t know if it’s normal to feel this way— like her lungs are collapsing in on themselves and she can’t breathe properly through her nose. it is normal to feel this way? about a friend? were you even considered to be a friend? maybe an acquaintance at best? kazuha has no clue what’s going on. all of her emotions and feelings feel out of reach and she’s gasping for control.

“zuha, are you okay?” a warm hand lingers on her shoulder. kazuha looks up from her spot on the carpet. it’s sakura, whose face is full of concern while yunjin and chaewon are still bickering.

“yes, i’m fine,” kazuha tries to smile and she even responds in japanese, being as sincere as possible. sakura nods before saying, “you can tell us anything, okay?”

(“i did not cause you to become twelfth— you just suck at mario kart!”

“say that to the thousands of blue shells you threw! you knew i was in front of you!”)

kazuha sighs, “it’s okay. i can deal with it.”

she doesn’t think she wants sakura to know of her feelings yet. not when she doesn’t know anything herself.

the athletes running up and down the long expanse of the basketball court never fails to amaze you. their stamina is extraordinary, having to sprint laps like that would surely have you gasping for air. if you had to go through such a routine, it would definitely have you on a hospital stretcher at the end of the day.

your eyes trail to the group of girls, huddled together with enormous sign boards covered in an assortment of decorations. you recognise some of the names, mostly since yunjin likes to babble about her teammates. one even had yunjin’s name and a cut out of her face glued onto it— you would definitely make fun of her later for it.

“hey,” chaewon slides smoothly into the seat next to you, “how was class?”

you groan immediately just thinking about the horrendous tutorials you had to endure in the morning. at least it was a morning class which gave you the leeway to come watch yunjin’s first game of the season. and kazuha’s too, but you haven’t seen much of her recently. after what you would call the library fiasco, you decided that being angsty and upset over a simple rejection was too immature and childish. hence, it would be best for you to step away for a while, lest you say something rude to kazuha because of your inability to control your own emotions.

“choi y/n! kim chaewon!” your head swerves to face the court. yunjin’s hand is outstretched and waving excitedly at you two. guffawing, you wave back while chaewon rolls her eyes, “does she have to say our full names like that?”

just as your hand falls, kazuha walks up to yunjin, conversing with her in hushed whispers. yunjin instantly jumps, jogging away from the benches and towards the centre of the court. your heart accelerates when the doors bang open. the other university team strolls in, all with their chins high, dignified and confident. you can only hope that yunjin holds the same conviction. you don’t really pay attention to the other team warming up and luckily, you had brought your textbooks along. using the spare time, you skim through your notes again, until chaewon nudges you.

everyone on court was in position and once the whistle blows, yunjin jumps upwards, reaching out for the ball. your eyes widen as she basically levitates in the sky for a good five seconds— you didn’t know yunjin could jump so high. even with her height, she was two heads taller than the opposing player. cheers sound out from the stands and you can’t help but shout yunjin’s name.

you watch intently as yunjin dribbles the ball down the court, passing it between her teammates. just as she’s about to finish a layup, the opposing player leaps forward, blocking her attempt. chaewon lets out an undistinguished groan as yunjin scrambles to regain possession of the ball. suddenly, a blurry flash of blue, your school’s team uniform colour, passes by and snatches the ball. kazuha strides all the way to the other side with precision and grace, dodging all the defenders agily.

you remain mum when everyone else cheers for the rookie. within seconds, kazuha jumps, flicking the basketball towards the net. you hold your breath and only exhale when it swoops in. the stands erupt into hoots and hollers. the game continues with back and forths, both teams evening out with their scores despite the early lead. however, the balance doesn’t persist for long, since midway through, just when kazuha is about to score a three pointer, one of the opponents dives in to tackle her. you instantly jump out of your seat, eyes wide with worry as kazuha gets shoved to the floor, a loud thud echoing throughout the gym.

“dude— is she allowed to do that?” you ask chaewon in disbelief. chaewon shakes her head, her face equally full of concern. there’s an outcry of anger from the supporters, booing at the opposing team. kazuha’s still on the ground, her arm twisted unsightly.

“what a bitch!” chaewon yells as the offender smirks at kazuha, strutting away to sit down on a bench while her teammate runs into court. your eyes follow the bright red jersey, the back depicting the name ‘shin’ in bold white font along with the number nine. the foul play earns your team a penalty shot but kazuha’s taken off court to be assessed for injuries.

despite the ongoing game, you can’t take your eyes off kazuha. her limp body, defeated and disappointed, resting against the wall causes sorrow to engulf your heart. you hate how upset she looks. even chaewon’s shrieks and screams can’t distract you. soon, kazuha leaves the gymnasium entirely and you can’t help but want to go after her.

“oh, c’mon yunjin! that was an easy shot!” chaewon shouts, causing the girl mentioned to turn around and glare at her. the ball had rolled off the rim effortlessly and your heart stopped as the score tied once more. it was already in its last quarter and if your team had any hopes of winning, they would need to step up their game. as the seconds ticked by, the chance of victory dwindled and you could see the moral fading away from your team.

yet, out of nowhere, yunjin somehow manages to score a three pointer that flings your team into the lead.

“huh yunjin!” you holler as the stands rise to clap and cheer. chaewon does the same and the game ends with the team lifting yunjin’s lanky body up in the air, seemingly awarding her with the title of mvp. your best friend grins as she shakes the opponent’s hand and you swear she grips number nine’s hand a little tighter. while the team finishes up thanking the opponents, you head down from the stands towards the infirmary, leaving chaewon behind.

the hallway leading to the infirmary feels endless as your legs trudge through. you couldn’t sit still throughout the match but yunjin came first as much as you wanted to check up on kazuha. and anyway things were awkward now— it would make sense for you to remain in the stands.

swinging the doors open, you whip your head left and right, searching for the young japanese girl.

“y/n?” kazuha blurts out. she’s laying on one of the beds, arm wrapped in a cast that’s slung around her shoulder, “d-did we win?”

you want to laugh in disbelief at how kazuha cares more about the match than her broken arm.

“ninety two to eighty nine,” you repeat the scores, sitting down on one of the chairs next to her bed. kazuha frowns, “that’s not a huge difference.”

“no, but at least you won.”

the girl’s shoulders turn slack and she gazes at you with a downcasted expression, “barely. i thought yunjin would be able to pull ahead.”

“she scored the winning shot,” you offer half-heartedly, which at least manages to cheer kazuha up a little. she smiles reluctantly before furrowing her eyebrows at the cast again, “i can’t play for the rest of the season.”

you nod, “of course not.”

“that’s— ugh,” her head falls against the propped pillow, “that’s annoying. i’m gonna miss so much—”

“hey,” you interrupt, “you just have to focus on resting now. don’t think about what you’re missing out on.”

kazuha pouts. she pouts— and it’s maddening the way the sight of an upset kazuha tugs at your heartstrings. how was it possible for someone to have that much control over your emotions?

a moment of silence passes slowly as kazuha’s eyelids flutter shut. she must be tired, you infer. despite the little time she spent on court, the girl suffered a serious injury and required rest. just as you decide to stand up, kazuha’s voice halts your movement.

“why didn’t you come to game night?”

she sounds timid and worried, almost like the kazuha you met at first. you haven’t heard her this anxious in a long time.

“game night?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“y-yeah… on friday… we waited for you,” she trails off, willing herself to stare at the clenched fists bunching up the blanket resting on her lap rather than you.

you’re reminded of the night that you spent with yujin, coming up with different ways and strategies to woo jang wonyoung even though you knew she was too pussy to do anything.

“i was out with my friend,” you explain, “sorry for making you guys wait up.”

kazuha frowns. you hold back from reaching out to relax the furrow between her brows.

“yujin?” she asks, voice strained.

“mhm. do you know her?”

she shakes her head.

“well— yujin does robotics, so you probably never crossed paths before. she’s a good kid though,” you smile fondly, thinking about the girl. kazuha can’t stop herself from glaring at the adoring look in your eyes. you had seemingly brightened up at the mention of your friend and kazuha hates how she feels out of place even though it’s just you and her talking.

this whole situation should be familiar. you’re her roommate’s best friend. she should feel fine and comfortable carrying a conversation with you but she doesn’t.

“i think you guys would get along well,” you say, “she likes playing genshin— don’t you like it too?”

kazuha stuns. how do you know that she plays genshin? out of everything that you had to know about her, liking genshin impact was not one of kazuha’s get to know me facts! you probably thought that she was a loser now! only losers play genshin! she internally wails at the prospect of it.

“hmph… maybe,” she mumbles, the tips of her ears reddening. kazuha’s lucky that her long hair hides her embarrassment. you laugh at her response and kazuha gets that feeling again.

suddenly, your phone rings, indicating a call. you fish your phone out, grimacing at the contact before answering.

“choi y/n!” kazuha hears yunjin’s voice unabashedly shouting. she stifles a laugh as you wince.

“yes?”

“where are you?! we’re meant to be celebrating!”

your voice turns stern and steely (kazuha’s heart stutters in her chest a little), “i’m with your roommate, or did you forget that she got injured?”

“i— kazuha! oh shit, wait for me!”

the moment you end the call, kazuha lets out a giggle. yunjin was just so silly. she can’t think of a better roommate to be honest. even if she has the memory of a goldfish. kazuha has a lot to thank yunjin for, and as she gazes at you, grinning shyly at the reduced tension in the room from yunjin’s mere phone call, she suddenly feels a wave of gratitude.

thank you yunjin for giving her this opportunity to befriend you.

your blooming friendship with kazuha has ascended from mere acquaintances to a contender for yunjin’s best friend spot. the previous icy disposition prevalent had disappeared almost instantly after that basketball game. you spend most of your days on kazuha’s bed, not the living room couch. at first, it was because she had to watch this scary movie, courtesy of a bet made by chaewon, and she couldn’t do it alone. yunjin would be equally useless, so you took up her offer.

unfortunately she didn’t inform you that chaewon’s bet consisted of watching the whole trilogy at night. hence, you were subjected to watching three horror films at midnight. kazuha couldn’t really stay quiet and it wasn’t as if you could tape her mouth shut. so, you decided to help her by giving her your hand to squeeze whenever a jumpscare came on screen.

however, this situation was extremely bad for your heart.

the warmth emitting from her hold was enough to make you blush. not to mention the way her body would cave in, seeking comfort. the mere presence of kazuha made goosebumps rise along your skin.

your heart weeps in disappointment when kazuha’s touch leaves your skin, her hand flying out to cover her eye while her other rests in the cast.

(not because you wanted kazuha to keep touching you! covering her eyes was just a cowardly move! as chaewon’s roommate, you had to ensure that kazuha would adhere to the rules!)

anyway— through this one night, kazuha had somehow managed to get nightmares from the horror movie. you wondered how that was possible when she barely watched it. maybe a little. through the gaps in her fingers perhaps. due to this recurring nightmare that kazuha had, she couldn’t get any sleep at all. the next day you visited her dorm, she looked like a zombie.

hence, your disastrous plan of staying the night with kazuha to make sure she was safe from any ghosts!

it was the foreigner who brought it up at first, all shy and bashful and you couldn’t reject that sheepish expression. but maybe you should’ve, since instead of just being by her side at night, somehow you would end up cuddling. the cuddling wasn’t really bad… it was just that kazuha was handsy. incredibly so. you would wake up in the morning, hair tousled and drool across your cheek, and kazuha’s entire body would be embracing yours, like a koala. you weren’t too sure if the conscious kazuha would even do such a thing and you chalked it up to her sleeping habit.

every morning, you would have to carefully detach yourself from kazuha before heading to class, making sure not to wake the girl up. especially with exams round the corner, she definitely needed her sleep. if you weren’t watching movies, you would be studying. sometimes kazuha moans about music theory, stating that she should have just studied science and other times you grumble about ecology, wishing you took arts instead. eventually, a few weeks after that fateful movie night, kazuha finally got her cast removed and was back to feeling brand new. you had celebrated by watching high school musical and drinking, which was definitely the cause of your killer hangover the next morning.

“zuha! where’s my hoodie?!” you shriek, fighting against your pounding headache and rifling through the piles of laundry stacking up beside kazuha’s bed.

the girl groggily sits up from her sheets, eyes bleary, “huh?”

the sun’s barely out but you have an eight am class to get to and now you can’t find your hoodie! it’s your favourite one too! a black adidas hoodie! and if you don’t bring it to your morning class, you’ll freeze to death in the theatre! the hangover doesn’t help either.

“where is it? i brought it over last time,” you ask, facing the sleepy girl again. kazuha rubs her eyes, frowning, “i think in my closet?”

ignoring the urge to coo at her, you stride towards her closet, searching through. eventually, you do find your hoodie, all the way at the side, shoved in with a bunch of other clothes.

exclaiming in glee, you hurriedly pull it over your head and grab your bag.

“okay, bye zuha! love you!” you blurt out, kissing the top of her head and sprinting out of the dorm despite yunjin yelling for you to stay for breakfast.

it’s only when you reach your class that you realise what you’ve done. sweat dripping down your neck, you collapse in the chair, eyes wide and mouth agape at your own shamelessness.

“oh my god…!” you shriek as loudly as you can, muffled into the thick fabric of your hoodie. yujin slides into the seat next to you, blinking in surprise. you turn to her, distressed.

“are you…” she makes a bunch of vague gestures with her hand, “you look ten seconds away from having a stroke.”

you bury your head into your palms, fingers digging into your hair. yujin makes a noise of indignation.

“yujinnie, prepare my funeral for me.”

“what?!” the younger girl grabs your shoulders, shaking you roughly, “you’re dying?!”

“ugh, no!” you push her away, “i did something stupid.”

yujin stares at you before huffing, “if you’re just gonna sulk—”

“i kissed zuha on the cheek and said love you when i was leaving!” you splutter out. her eyes turn as wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise. “zuha? yunjin’s roommate? since when did you get so chummy with her? are you dating?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek in humiliation when you recall kazuha’s stunned expression, frozen on the bed.

“so… why’d you…” yujin stutters, “kiss her?”

groaning, you flop back onto the desk, limp with mortification. it’s almost a repeat of the incident when you first met kazuha. somehow, everytime you hung out with her, you would find a way to truly embarrass yourself. but maybe this one triumphs all other times.

“i don’t know! i was really hungover and she just looked super cute after waking up! i think it’s because we spent the night together so we got a little too domesticated… and it was just an instinctive reaction to do that! she was so pretty… and maybe i’m kind of in love with her but that’s not the point!” you whine.

it had never been stated so outrightly before. that your whole heart rested in the palms of kazuha. you had no idea when this crush, or adoration, for her started and it very well could have blossomed the moment kazuha opened that door for you. all you knew was that your love for her was like a tsunami, endless in its barrage. it explained all the feelings you felt for her; from jealousy to affection. she made you feel a whole spectrum. you wanted to know everything about kazuha. her likes, her dislikes, why she chose basketball over dance, why she enjoys video games so much (not as much as sakura though).

“you’re in love with her? girl what.”

“i know! oh my god— how am i gonna face her now?”

yujin guffaws, shoving your limp body away, “you’re such a mess. shut up and focus before you fail this semester. think about this later.”

you nod. yujin was right! you shouldn’t think about this now. it wouldn’t do you any good. currently, all you should think about is the looming examinations that will decide your future.

yet, the thought of kazuha still remains clear in your mind. halfway through the lecture, you nudge yujin’s side, whispering softly, “do you think zuha got uncomfortable with me doing that?”

yujin frowns, pushing her glasses up, “probably a little… unless she likes you back.”

unintentionally, a scoff escapes you. kazuha liking you back? no way. she wouldn’t even touch you with a ten foot pole if it wasn’t for her own comfort. the mere thought was preposterous. how could someone, as sweet as kazuha, as caring as kazuha…

she was the kindest girl you knew. you had forgotten all about the misfortune you faced at the start with her, writing them off as misunderstanding the girl. it was so apparent that kazuha had a heart of gold. and perhaps it was too easy for you to fall for someone like that. someone gentle and loving. maybe the furthest her love for you would be as a friend. you couldn’t assume that her actions were romantic. it would make more sense for them to be platonic.

you cuddle with yunjin too. you kiss chaewon on the cheek as well. you’ve spent nights talking to sakura. nothing about the things you’ve experienced with kazuha was strange or abnormal. well, except for the outrageous heart rate you had during those times.

sometimes when you wake up first, you prepare breakfast for yunjin and kazuha. and most of the time, when you’re flipping pancakes, firm arms wrap around your waist and a giant embraces your back. it would always be kazuha’s face that meets yours when you turn around. her goofy grin as she eyes the pancakes hungrily. you could imagine the ears flapping on those brown locks and the tail wagging excitedly behind her.

almost like an enthusiastic puppy that sees its owner for the first time. kazuha was innocent like that. she deserved a good person to take care of her. one that doesn’t have to contemplate their worth to her. maybe she does like you, but that would be a diabolical decision to make.

you sink further into your chair.

“you good?” yujin asks.

kazuha should not like you back.

“y-yeah. i’m fine.”

it wouldn’t be so bad if she did though.

truth be told, kazuha wasn’t really sure what changed overnight. she just had almost the best sleep of her life and suddenly, it’s the morning and you’re rushing out the door. the lingering warmth of your lips still resides freshly on her cheek and a delicious tingle sends shivers down her entire body as she remembers it so dearly. don’t even get her started on the way her heart had jumped in her throat when you said ‘love you’ to her. it was mystical the way she reacted to such words.

yet, it seemed like you had done a whole one eighty. instead of returning back to her like you should, kazuha never received any indication of you dropping by their dorm. she had eagerly waited for your arrival after your class and you were nowhere to be found. if anyone saw her then, they would immediately state that she looked like a wet dog. kazuha didn’t know what she’d done wrong. only that yunjin was equally bewildered.

“do you think i did something?” kazuha asks again over dinner and yunjin can’t really stand to be exasperated when her roommate stares so sadly at her food, not even eating.

“maybe she’s just in one of those phases again. it’s nearing exam season,” yunjin shrugs even though there’s insecurity in her answer, “she might just be busy.”

kazuha nods and it feels as if she’s trying to convince herself rather than acknowledge yunjin’s words.

“i’ll tell you if i get any news from her though,” yunjin offers and it brightens kazuha up enough for her to finally take a bite of her dinner.

things don’t really change even after a few days. yunjin just has a pitiful expression on her face when kazuha asks again and everything’s starting to look dull. she still has no clue what transpired in this situation. maybe it really was that morning when you kissed her. how could you be the one avoiding her if you kissed her first? kazuha huffs, stomping her feet as she thinks about it. she should really be focusing on her thesis right now but her mind likes to wander and more often than not, the main protagonist in her brain is you.

the fact that you don’t share any subjects together only further wedges a gap between you and kazuha barely spots you in the hallways. based on what chaewon’s told her, you’ve only been staying in your room, even avoiding going to the library or cafes in fear that kazuha might be there! now that was just too over the top. the next time kazuha sees you, she’s going to explode.

additionally, to add to the things that do not quell kazuha’s frustration, you’ve become increasingly close to this yujin girl. kazuha currently has all her friends on lookout, searching for your whereabouts and almost all of them have reported sightings of you with this tall girl with dark shaggy hair and kazuha knows that’s ahn yujin. back when she still had you to cuddle, you would sometimes bring up yujin despite the scowl on kazuha’s face. the mere mention of her name was enough for kazuha’s blood to boil so imagine seeing you with her! when you were meant to be cuddling with kazuha! life was so unfair.

kazuha wants to pull out all her hair when she finally sees you for the first time in weeks and no surprise, yujin’s latched onto your side like a hopeless dog.

(she ignores how she may have, very well, looked the same once.)

she watches pathetically as you stroll by, not even sparing a glance at her and maybe if she listened close enough, she could hear her heart shattering into shards. now kazuha just feels silly. she’s tried everything (no, not really, it’s an exaggeration) for you to notice her but nothing seems to work. maybe she’ll just corner you in your dorm room, where you can’t escape.

at that very moment, a lightbulb flickers on.

kazuha sprints, her long legs striding towards the direction of the dormitories, eyes blazing with a newfound determination.

kazuha [3.14pm]:

pls lock urself in ur room

just for a few hours

chaewon [3.15pm]:

is this about yn?

okie sure~

kazuha [3.15pm]:

thanku (´▽｀)

the moment she reaches your dorm, she’s panting heavily and she needs to rest her body against the hardwood door to catch her breath. no doubt she reached before you and as she knocked, chaewon grimaces at her but still opens it wide enough for her to enter.

“good luck,” is all she says before clicking her bedroom door shut. kazuha has a few minutes to spare, so she takes a good look around your apartment. for the amount of time you spent in hers, she hasn’t done the same. it’s an unfamiliar territory that kazuha has to become well-versed with. a whole wall was filmed with polaroids and pictures, all taken throughout your college life. her eyes fall from one of yunjin to a blurry film photo. it’s a little hazy but the people inside are still clear enough to be identifiable. kazuha knows that’s her. and the person she’s wrapped around is you.

she doesn’t remember this photo being taken but the surroundings are evidently her dorm, so it could only mean that yunjin took the photo. but for you to get it developed… kazuha hasn’t understood the significance of her friendship to you until now. it’s slightly jarring to be frank but a sense of relief settles within her.

her head swings back when the door clicks open.

“oh.”

you stare at kazuha with widened eyes.

“sorry, chaewon unnie let me in.”

you clear your throat, coughing slightly, “ah, yeah. i just… wasn’t expecting for you to be here.”

kazuha cocks an eyebrow at you, “not done avoiding me?”

“uhm, what… haha, no… i wasn’t avoiding you.”

“really?”

you nod stiffly, “yup. just busy. busy with schoolwork. y’know, biomed’s a hard curriculum.”

“of course,” kazuha states, “let’s catch up now then. you have free time, right?”

there’d be no use denying that to kazuha, so you accept your fate by sitting down on the couch. the fabric feels foreign after spending most of your days in yunjin’s dorm.

“so… what’s up?”

“explain why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i just told you i haven’t…”

the look kazuha gives you says, ‘come on,’ and you sigh, knowing that there wasn’t any way out of this. at best, you would be able to move on without ever speaking of this again, and at worst, you would be thoroughly humiliated. at least it was just the two of you now, so maybe your embarrassment wouldn’t be as bad?

“well, uhm,” you look away from kazuha’s intense gaze, “for starters, i was really embarrassed after that incident in the morning…” your voice trails off awkwardly as kazuha’s eyes light up in recognition.

“why? it wasn’t weird for me.”

“no? it wasn’t?” you ask, surprised. kazuha shakes her head and it gives you the slightest bit of confidence.

you try to keep your voice steady, “okay but other than that, i kind of… i haveamassivecrushonyou.”

“what?! say that again,” she demands, now facing you directly and you shut your eyes, already feeling the tips of your ears heat up rapidly.

“i kind of have a massive crush on you. i’m sorry! if i stayed friends with you it just felt like i was taking advantage and i wouldn’t want to do that to someone i like.”

she doesn’t respond for a few seconds and instantly you think she’s gotten up and left. surely this would be weird for her, right? her roommate’s best friend suddenly saying that she’s been crushing on her— why did you even say that out loud to her?!

when you open your eyes, you find kazuha staring at you with a flabbergasted expression that quickly morphs into exhilaration. she lets out a breathy laugh, one that echoes in your ears endlessly, “i’m so happy.”

“what?” you ask, confused.

she repeats slowly, “i’m so happy.”

“…why?”

kazuha rolls her eyes playfully, “i have a crush on you too. why do you think i said i didn’t mind the kiss? or your profession of love?”

you blush furiously, “that was not a profession of love. more like a slip of the tongue. never going to happen again.”

she shakes her head, a grin gracing her lips, “well, it was really cute.” kazuha leans in close, mockingly poking at your maroon-stained cheeks, “are you flustered? did your heart flutter because of me?”

swatting her hand away, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself too much.” it’s an incredible contrast of your true feelings.

“i really thought you didn’t like me,” you pout, thinking of all the times kazuha would unintentionally reject you.

the japanese girl winces, “not my best moment but i do like you, if that wasn’t clear enough. so, are we dating now?”

you place your palms against her broad shoulders, pushing her away slightly before she sends you into a heart attack.

“o-okay.”

“hm? what’s that? i didn’t hear you.”

“shut up, zuha.”

“hey, i thought you liked me. why are you being so mean?”

later on, when chaewon finally emerges from her room, she finds two figures cuddled up on the couch, both clinging onto each other. her first instinct is to cringe, and her second is to snap a photo to replace the one currently on the wall.

🎙️ author’s note: not super fond of the ending but it’s literally 3am and i can’t be bothered sorry guys maybe i’ll change it one day but i need to sleep now. hope you enjoyed the fic nonetheless!

[ahqkas]

♯ PRACTICE MAKES IT BETTER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing + lmk !

NOTES! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

AMERICA WAS VIBRANT AND DIVERSE. The music scene was thriving with genres like grunge, hip-hop, and pop dominating the airwaves. To you, it was a place of contrasts and boundless possibilities. It was a land where towering skyscrapers stood next to historic buildings, and where you could find everything from bustling cities to quiet, open countryside. The diversity was striking; every state feels like its own little world, with different cultures, foods, and ways of life. It was a country where you could experience all four seasons, with hot summers, cold winters, and vibrant springs and autumns. The sheer size and variety made it feel like there was always something new to explore, whether it was a national park, a music festival, or just a quirky little town.

Then you moved to England.

Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of America, you stepped into a new world of magic and centuries-old traditions.

The first thing you noticed was the climate change. England's weather was full of frequent rain and cloudy skies. You had to get used to bringing an umbrella everywhere with you.

Hogwarts in Scotland was completely different from Ilvermorny, which resided on Mount Greylock. The towering buildings of the castle intimidated you a bit as you were used to the more modern school, but you were excited for the change of scenery.

The stone corridors, moving staircases, and enchanted portraits had captivated your imagination. The castle itself was full of new discoveries. Sure, you missed your old friends dearly, every one of them, but the owls worked hard and you managed to make new friends here.

As an exchange student from America, walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts was a totally new experience. The ancient castle with its sprawling grounds, enchanted staircases, and hidden passageways was like stepping into a dream. But it wasn't just the magical environment that threw you off balance; it was the British slang that seemed to pop up in every conversation.

During your first week, you found yourself constantly bewildered by the new expressions. At breakfast, when a cheerful Hufflepuff asked if you wanted a "banger" with your eggs, you hesitated, unsure if it was an insult or a menu item. When a Ravenclaw mentioned being "knackered" after a long night of studying, you had to suppress a laugh, thinking it sounded more like a sound effect from a comic book than an expression of exhaustion.

The confusion was endless: "snogging" instead of kissing, "knickers" instead of underwear, "blimey" instead of a simple exclamation of surprise. You did your best to keep up, but the nuances of the language often left you feeling like you were missing the punchline of a joke. To put it simply, you were lost.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, poring over a stack of books for a Transfiguration assignment, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Ciao, piccola," Theodore Nott drawled, sliding into the seat across from yours. His presence was effortlessly welcomed, with his cool demeanor and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was a strange boy at first, never letting anyone, but when you warmed up to him, he was a totally new person.

"Hi, Theo," you greeted him with a smile playing on your lips. Theodore had been one of the first students to approach you, his Italian heritage a surprising connection. He often teased you in his native language, enjoying the way you fumbled with the unfamiliar phrases. A nuisance, that he was.

"Come va la tua giornata?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ("How's your day doing?")

Already hearing this phrase a few times, you learned to understand its translation. With a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's been . . . interesting. I'm still trying to understand half of what everyone says here."

Theo chuckled, the sound rich and warm to your ears. "British slang getting to you?"

"You could say that," you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you watched his amusement at your misery. "I feel like I need a translator just for conversations."

"Well, if you think British slang is confusing, wait until I teach you some Italian slang," Theo smirked at the idea that appeared on his mind. "It's a whole different level."

Now this got your attention. "Teach me, then. It can't be that difficult from the British slang."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott became your informal language tutor. He started with simple phrases, weaving them into everyday conversations until you began to pick them up naturally. He taught you how to greet someone with "Ciao, amico!" instead of a formal "Buongiorno," and how to say "Andiamo!" when you were ready to go.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in the Great Hall, Theo decided to test your knowledge. The rain tapped persistently against the high, arched windows, casting a muted gray light across the large hall. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, swirling with dark clouds and flashes of lightning that illuminated the space completely. Despite the dreary weather, the Great Hall buzzed with the soft hum of student conversations, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the rustling of pages.

Theo, seated across from you at the Slytherin table, leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eye. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing his sharp features. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, the way he delighted in challenging you with phrases in Italian, watching with amusement as you thought through the unfamiliar language. Today was no different, his eyes scanning the hall as if seeking inspiration for his next test.

You had been in the midst of revising for an upcoming Charms exam, your notes spread out around you in a chaotic array of parchment and textbooks. The soft light from the floating candles above cast a warm glow on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As Theo's gaze returned to you, you knew another one of his lessons was coming.

"What would you say if you were really tired?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Theo's questions were always a blend of practical and playful, designed to push you just a little further each time. He spoke with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his skin, his words flowing like the rain outside, steady and sure. His Italian phrases, though foreign at first, began to weave themselves into the mind of your understanding.

Your responses grew more confident, the hesitation in your voice diminishing with each passing day. You found yourself thinking in Italian at times, the language slipping into your thoughts as naturally as your own. Theo's delight was evident, his eyes lighting up whenever you got something right, his praise sincere and heartfelt.

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, but within the Great Hall, a warmth lingered.

You thought for a moment, then confidently replied, "Sono stanca morta." The phrase rolled off your tongue more smoothly than before, each syllable a small victory in your journey to master his native language. The meaning — "I'm dead tired" — was all too familiar after long days filled with classes and studying.

Theo laughed, the sound rich and genuine, echoing softly in the near-empty Great Hall. His laughter was like a reward, a confirmation that you were getting it right. Silver eyes sparkled with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. The warmth of his reaction was comforting against the dreary, rain-soaked afternoon outside.

"Well done!" His voice was filled with genuine pride and delight, making you feel accomplished. His praise was never out of place; it was always heartfelt.

Your heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy. Learning Italian was not just about understanding a new language, but also about bridging the gap between your worlds. Each phrase, each word, was a step closer to understanding Theo better, and a way to connect on a deeper level.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your next move. "And if you wanted to compliment someone on a job well done?" His question was another gentle challenge, pushing you to dig deeper into your newfound vocabulary.

"Bravo!" you answered without hesitation. The word felt natural, a perfect fit for the context. As you spoke, you couldn't help but smile, the simple word carrying a world of meaning and mutual respect. Seeing the approval in Theo's eyes, you felt a surge of confidence.

Theo's smile broadened, and his expression softened with pride and admiration. The approval in his eyes was more than just about your grasp of the language; it was about your willingness to immerse yourself in something new, to share a part of his heritage, to make an effort to connect.

The atmosphere around you felt lighter, the earlier tension of the day's studies dissolving into a shared moment of triumph and connection. The Great Hall, with its towering windows and ancient stone walls, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world of language and laughter.

The candles above flickered gently, casting a warm glow that danced across Theo's features, highlighting the pride in his eyes.

One day, as you walked together by the Black Lake, the cold water reflecting the moody sky, Theo turned to you, his expression thoughtful. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the shore, their branches swaying rhythmically as if in silent conversation. The scene was picturesque, the expanse of the lake stretching out before you, a serene contrast to the bustling life within the castle walls. It was quiet out here, and you liked this spot.

"You know, you've picked up Italian slang faster than I expected," Theo remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and surprise. His thoughtful tone blended seamlessly with the natural sounds around you, creating a moment of perfect harmony.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing across the still waters. Nudging him playfully, you replied, "Maybe I had a good teacher." The playful banter was a reflection of the easy camaraderie that had developed between you, a testament to the countless hours spent learning and laughing together.

Theo's smile softened at your words, a tender expression that seemed to light up his face. His gaze lingered on you, the depth of his affection and pride evident in his eyes. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, each shared glance made your knees tremble. Like you were the only girl at Hogwarts.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth that enveloped you. "Or maybe you just have a knack for languages." His words were a gentle compliment, a recognition of your efforts and abilities.

The path around the Black Lake was peaceful, the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surface of the water. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. As you walked side by side, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the rest of the universe fading into the background.

Your footsteps synchronized, a silent dance of familiarity and comfort. The conversations flowed effortlessly, alternating between Italian lessons and shared dreams, each word weaving a tapestry of understanding and companionship. Theo's presence was a constant, steady and reassuring, his thoughtful insights and quiet encouragements a source of strength.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The twilight hues painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking sight that added to the magic of the moment. Theo's silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun was a picture of serenity and quiet strength, a reminder of the stability he brought into your life.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the Slytherin boy took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, his proximity sending a gentle thrill through your body. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up your arm.

In that moment, with the golden light of dusk casting a magical glow around you, Theo leaned in. His movements were deliberate, filled with a tender hesitation. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure, unadulterated connection.

The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that spoke everything you needed to know. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentle caress of his hand against your cheek — it all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and deeply comforting.

Theo's hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more insistent. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The connection between you intensified, the kiss becoming a language of its own, expressing everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves around you. Theo's eyes, still holding that mix of affection and awe, met yours. A soft, contented smile played on his lips.

"Grazie, Theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" he asked confused, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For being patient with me. For this. For . . . everything."

Theo's eyes softened, and he reached out, intertwining your fingers in one. "No worries," he replied, his voice just as soft. "I'm glad I could help."

[hynzsn]

💭 JEALOUSY ★

☆ sungchan x male reader

-> idol!sungchan x idol!reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff?, headcanons, scenarios

summary: literally just sungchan being a jealous boyfriend!! plus some bonus cute boyfriend headcanons that i felt like adding 🥰

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕HEADCANONS ꒱ ˚₊

— sungchan tries so hard to play it cool, but he's legit the most possessive bf ever and it's lowkey adorable???

— he gets extra affectionate on stage. little touches, inside jokes, heated glances. briize go wild and honestly? sungchan lives for it. “mine," he'll whisper fiercely before you go on stage, giving your hand a squeeze. and really, you wouldn't have it any other way.

— if he sees you texting someone and smiling, he’ll casually drape himself over your shoulders, trying to peek at your phone. “who’s got you grinning like that, huh?” he’ll ask, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

— he finds nearly every excuse in the book to touch you -> fixing your hair, adjusting your mic, leaning on your shoulder, hugging you from behind, holding your hand, etc… literally anything to assert his position as your boyfriend.

— his jaw clenches every time he sees you laughing at shotaro’s jokes during practice. he can’t help but mutter under his breath, “what’s so fucking funny anyway?”

— during dance practice, sungchan notices the choreographer paying extra attention to your form, constantly adjusting your posture with gentle touches. he fumbles a few steps, distracted by the sight. later, he corners you when you’re alone, pressing you against the wall. "looks like you need some extra practice," he growls, his hands on your hips. "how about a private lesson with me instead?"

— during a livestream, anton casually drapes his arm around your shoulders. sungchan, off-camera, grips his water bottle so tightly it nearly cracks. later, he pulls you aside and hisses, “do you have to be so touchy-feely with everyone?”

— at a fansign event, a fan asks you who your ideal type is. before you can even a answer, sungchan blurts out, “he likes tall guys. tall rapper types.” he gives you a pointed look, daring you to contradict him.

— during a variety show game where members have to pair up, sungchan practically tackles you to ensure you're his partner. "sorry guys," he says with a not-so-sorry grin, "i called dibs on him ages ago."

— you mention wanting to learn guitar, and wonbin offers to teach you. suddenly, sungchan becomes very interested in guitars too. "i’ve always wanted to learn," he lies through his teeth, joining your lessons and monopolizing wonbin’s attention.

— during a group dinner, eunseok keeps feeding you bites from his plate. sungchan retaliates by practically shoving spoonfuls of his own food into your mouth. "here, try mine. it’s way better," he insists, glaring daggers at eunseok.

— sohee keeps stealing food from your plate, something you two have always done playfully. sungchan, however, is not amused. he wordlessly places more food on your plate and shoots daggers at sohee. under the table, his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers possessively.

— you’re feeling under the weather, and all the members are fussing over you. sungchan elbows his way through, declaring, "i’ve got this, guys. i know exactly what he needs." he spends the entire day hovering over you, bringing you soup and medicine, and glaring at anyone who dares to come near.

— at a radio show, the host asks about close friendships within the group. before anyone can answer, sungchan’s eager to announce that you and him are the closest. “y/n and i are super close. like, really close. right, y/n?” his eyes are practically pleading.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕BONUS BF!SUNGCHAN HEADCANONS ꒱ ˚₊

— late one night, you feel your bed dip and a warm body press against your back. "couldn’t sleep," sungchan mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "you’re better than any damn teddy bear."

— after a grueling practice session, you're both exhausted. without a word, sungchan follows you to your room, kicks off his shoes, and crawls under the covers with you. "just five minutes," he yawns, but you both know he's not going anywhere.

— during a thunderstorm, sungchan shows up at your door looking sheepish. "the thunder, it's... loud," he mutters. you lift your blanket in invitation, and he dives in, wrapping himself around you like a koala.

— in the practice room when you're alone, sungchan will sometimes come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder. "show me that move again," he'll say, but his hands on your hips suggest he's more interested in feeling you move than learning the choreography.

— during movie nights with the group, sungchan always manages to snag the spot next to you. as the others get engrossed in the film, he'll slowly intertwine his fingers with yours under the blanket, shooting you a sly smile.

— when you're stressed about a performance, sungchan will pull you aside. "close your eyes," he'll whisper, before giving you a slow, deep massage. his strong hands work out the knots in your shoulders as he murmurs, "you’ve got this. you’re amazing."

— during long car rides, sungchan will pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder. but you can feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck when you start playing with his hair.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕SCENARIOS ꒱ ˚₊

it’s comeback season, which means endless photoshoots. today you’re paired with shotaro for a concept that involves a lot of playful touches and laughter. sungchan watches from the sidelines, a subtle frown forming as shotaro adjusts a strand of your hair, laughing at something you whispered. later, during a break, you wander over to sungchan, excited to show him the polaroid the staff gifted you. “look! it came out so cute, right?” he barely glances at it, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek. “you had something in your hair,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on yours, “must’ve missed it.” the intensity of his gaze makes you blush, and you’re suddenly very aware of his touch, lingering a beat too long.

seunghan loves to tease. he lives to tease. And he knows exactly which buttons to push when it comes to sungchan. so, naturally, when he sees sungchan subtly fuming backstage after witnessing your playful banter with wonbin, he decides to have some fun. “yah, wonbin-ah,” seunghan slings an arm around him, “you and y/n seemed pretty cozy out there. did you know he used to have the biggest crush on–” “seunghan!” you hiss, elbowing seunghan playfully as sungchan chokes on his water. you shoot him an apologetic look, but he’s not even looking at you. his eyes are laser-focused on wonbin, a challenging glint in them.

“hyung, stop hogging y/n!” anton whines playfully, trying to squeeze between you two during a chaotic group weverse live. you’d simply been showing sungchan a funny meme on your phone, your shoulders brushing, but leave it to anton to turn it into something else. sungchan, however, doesn’t budge. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and fixes anton with a flat stare. “we’re comfortable, thanks for asking.” the chat explodes, a flurry of heart emojis and excited keyboard smashing. you can practically hear the shippers going wild. meanwhile, eunseok is cackling in the background, thoroughly enjoying the show.

you’re exhausted after a long day of practice. All you want is to collapse onto the dorm couch and scroll through your phone. but when you enter the living room, you find sungchan already there, a deep frown etched on his face. “hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, concern lacing your voice. he avoids your gaze, mumbling something about being tired. you know him better than that. you gently pry until he finally confesses, voice low and hesitant, “i saw you and sohee practicing that dance earlier… you two looked really good together.” it clicks. jealousy. you can’t help but smile, finding his possessiveness endearing. you crawl onto the couch, snuggling into his side. “are you kidding? you’re the only dance partner i want.” he tries to maintain his grumpy facade, but you can see the way his lips twitch into a small smile. the silent treatment is officially over.

[acatinabox]

A collection of cultural and food suggestions related to Antiva

From an Italian amateur writer.

Big disclaimer: I am not trying to claim Antiva or his characters as Italian, if you want to see it more Spanish, be my guests. Things in the setting are ambiguous so let's make the most of this vagueness and make space for each others' headcanons.

That said, I'm Italian, and these are the things I can relate/speak about confidently, so I will. I do write Lucanis more Italian in my fanfiction because he was written as such in the Wigmaker Job and it was such a boon to feel represented in a piece of media I loved but I support fan creativity so do whatever you want.

Also these are generalisations. People are not a monolith, goes without saying.

Nobody asked for this, but I hope maybe it helps someone or is interesting.

With that out of the way, here's a collection of themes/suggestions that speak to me, and that might be useful if you want to write them in in your fanfiction and that aren't coffee or organised crime related.

The smell of soffritto at lunch time in the streets. People cook with their windows open when the weather allows it, and the smell of their food permeates the air. You can smell it from the street. Soffritto is the base of many Italian preparations and sauces, so it's a very familiar smell at lunch and dinner time. It's a mix of onion, celery and carrots minced and put in a pan to stir fry with olive oil. If you add a little bit of tomato sauce you make the most basic pasta sauce. Congratulations.

The smell of freshly made bread is fragrant and unique. Every region has its own type of bread and you can easily find a variety of them in most cities. Italian bread is fluffy and light and sometimes a bit dry. Potato bread is made in mountain areas. In the south, bread has a thick dark crust and an airy centre. We eat bread almost at every meal, it's just as iconic and pasta.

I can easily see Lucanis make his own pasta sauce and bread from scratch.

Speaking of bread, I can also see Lucanis make "scarpetta" after he finished eating, which means scraping the sauce from the plate with a bit of bread.

People make small talk in the streets or in the stores, sometimes with complete strangers. It's not a strict social rule but it happens quite often.

The Lucanis/Illario conversation in wigmaker job about not eating Antivan food abroad is the quintessential dynamic between the expat and the relative visiting who expects to not go out of their comfort zone. It happened to me more times than I can count.

Family functions can last all day, we can meet for lunch on a Sunday and spend the whole day together. If you get out of the table before 5PM on a holiday like Christmas or Easter frankly it means you failed as a host (harsh but true). More often than not you'll find yourself staying for a lighter dinner too.

The usual composition of a big meal is antipasto, first course, second course with a side, dessert, fruit, caffè ammazzacaffè. On normal days we only have a main, though.

Ammazzacaffè is the sacred ritual of the digestive after coffee (it literally means coffee killer). I mention it because it's mentioned in the game and in the short stories. It can be I think any strong liquor. We have it after a big lunch or in the evening, usually not at lunch on a working day. It kinda resets you, closes the meal.

Drinking wine has a big convivial function. Drinking alone is not something most people do often, we reserve it for social occasions and usually with a meal.

Dressing up is kind of expected in certain family functions and situations. Not in all families and not at all occasions but I can see it would be expected especially in high society.

Veneto, where RL Treviso is, is known for their creative swearing against god. I can absolutely picture Lucanis shout "by Ghil'an'ain's saggy boobs" or "by Elgar'nan's dried balls" when angry. Honestly go wild, please make up some insults for them and tell me about them (also sorry for the apostrophes, I don't know where they go).

We have a chocolate bonbon, Baci (means kisses), that have paper slips with sappy, romantic quotes in them. Some of Lucanis's phrases remind me of that. I think he'd be a fan and note down his favourite quotes. It's a dark chocolate bonbon with a soft heart and a hazelnut inside.

I said I wouldn't mention coffee but I lied. In some Italian cities there's the tradition of caffè appeso (hung coffee). Someone pays for coffee for themselves and for someone else they don't know that might want one and not be able to afford it. It's adorable and I can see Lucanis do it exaggeratedly all the time because he seems quite generous.

I think I'm done for now and maybe more people will jump up in the mentions or the replies to add their own useful things. I'll try to add some if they come to mind!

[aperrywilliams]

1000 Times (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader) - Part II

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Author Masterlist

Part I (May 7th)

Part II (May 14th)

Part III (May 21st)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader.

Summary: Your mom is getting married, and you have to come back to your hometown for the wedding. There is a little problem, though: you told her months ago you have a boyfriend, and now she wants to meet him at the wedding. Your best friend, Spencer - who happens to be the guy you are in love with, too - offers to help you with that. If you say yes, will things work out like they are supposed to?

Word Count - Part II: 6.5k

Warnings: Fluff/Angst/Smut/Angst/Fluff (I think that order is correct). Minors DNI. The smut is not detailed and mostly implied. Reader and Spencer are Idiots in love. The Reader's dad died. The Reader has poor and unhealthy family relationships, especially with her mom. Cheating is mentioned (in a past Reader's relationship). There are discussions about child trauma. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Part II is here, when everything twists a ‘little bit.’ What do you think will happen next?

--------------------------------------

'Cause I would die to make you mine

Bleed me dry each and every time

I don't mind, no, I don't mind it

I would come back a thousand times.'

-

The alarm blasts at 8 am sharp, and for a day off, it is like a crime to you. But your mom gave you a list of things to get done and help with before the afternoon. Rubbing off the sleep from your eyes, you look to your side and see only the empty spot where Spencer was when you fell asleep last night. Where is he?

The sound of water running from the bathroom gives you the answer.

Padding to the window, you get to open the curtains. It's a beautiful day outside. The gardens look amazing with the morning sun. Maybe it's one of the only things you miss from this house. Your apartment in DC clearly doesn't have this view, but you wouldn't trade your place for anything, not even these wonderful gardens.

"The weather report says today's temperature will remain warm with a clear sky."

Spencer’s voice makes you turn around.

"Yeah. With luck, tomorrow will be -"

Your words die in your mouth when you're faced with a semi-naked Spencer, wrapped with only a towel around his waist, with wet hair and droplets running down his torso. Your brain suddenly becomes mush. Jesus, this man wants to kill you for sure. How can he look so hot so early in the morning?

Spencer confuses your amazement with discomfort.

"Un. I'm sorry, I forgot my clothes in that chair," he apologizes, quickly grabbing the pile and rapidly strolling back to the bathroom.

"It's okay. Do n't-don't worry," you manage to say, but the bathroom door is already closed.

You could get used to a view like this every morning.

After breakfast, while helping Andrew organize some things, Spencer is held by Dylan, who, after learning about your boyfriend's three doctorates, found no better pastime than interrogating him on a wide variety of topics. With patience and his fair share of enthusiasm, Spencer is happy to explain things Dilan probably only understands half of.

During one of your breaks, you take Spencer to the family office, where your father's book collection is located. It is one of his few things that are still kept in the house. As you go through each book, you tell Spencer things you remember about your father from your childhood. He was clearly an important figure to you; you've never denied it. Unlike Spencer with his father, you were close to yours until a fatal accident ended his life. That's something you still struggle to talk about despite all the years that have passed.

Spencer watches you with fascination as you talk about your happiest memories from that time. It's a side of you no one has ever seen. Spencer feels lucky to be the one who witnesses your most intimate self outside the confines of work and life at the BAU.

However, the bubble you find yourselves in is shattered when your mom shows up, escorted by your other brother, Ralph, who has just arrived.

"Isn't that my little sister and her boyfriend?" Ralph asks with a smile on his face. Of your two brothers, Ralph is the only one you get along with a bit. However, if he had to choose between you and your mom, like Lincoln, Ralph would choose your mom.

After a greeting hug and the respective introductions, Ralph proceeds to ask you how you've been and says he's happy you decided to come. The whole time, Spencer's arm is protectively around your waist. You tenderly stroke his hand, thanking him for taking his role as boyfriend seriously in front of your family.

As expected, the conversation quickly moves toward the big event.

"Well, I know it's just the rehearsal, but I took the liberty of inviting Evan for today. I know you only had him contemplated for the wedding, but he has been a family friend for so long," Ralph tells your mother.

Hearing Evan's name, your expression hardens, and your body stiffens, something Spencer notices immediately.

"What a good idea, Ralph. I didn't think about it, but I totally agree," your mom says.

"Who's Evan?" Spencer asks you. Before you can say anything, Ralph pipes up.

"A family friend, who also happens to be (Y/N)'s ex-boyfriend."

"That poor boy, he was so in love with you, and you behaved like you didn't care," your mom chastised, recalling your relationship with Evan.

Uncomfortable with the topic, you let go of Spencer's grip and shift your weight from one foot to another.

"He was crazy for you," Ralph adds.

"Oh, please. We're talking about the time I was what? Sixteen? We weren't in love," you scoff. But the defensiveness in your voice tells Spencer there is more to the story.

"Young or not, he would have done everything for you. A real husband material."

Your mom's observation spurs a groan from you.

"Really, Mom? It was all that mattered to you? If it were up to you, I would have ended up married to one of Dad's wealthy friends, thirty years older than me."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never have done that to you."

"No? That's why you actually married one?" you spat—your mom's face morphs to offended in one second.

“(Y/N)! Don't be disrespectful," Ralph snarls. And you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself. Spencer's confused look makes you feel guilty. It's not fair to him to witness a scene of you arguing with your family.

"Fine," you relent. "I'll shut up." Now, looking at Spencer and softening your voice, you speak again. "Baby, can you help me with the greeting cards for the tables?"

He nods and offers you his hand to take. "Sure." You squeeze it appreciatively and walk with him out of the room.

Once outside, out of the people's sight, you let out a deep breath.

"Spencer, I'm sorry-"

Before you can fall into a spiral of apologies, he cuts you off.

"Don't. You don't have to say sorry to me. I know there is more behind what happened there, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But no matter what it is, I'm on your side, okay? Always."

"Thanks. You should know anyway."

While you're organizing the cards with the guest's names, you tell Spencer about your history with Evan. Two years older than you, Evan was the younger brother of Ralph's best friend. Evan's family was always close to yours, and for a long time, you considered him your friend.

But after your dad passed away, things went a bit south with him. You were vulnerable and leaned on Evan when you thought no one else understood. One thing led to another, and you ended up in a relationship. Everything was pretty normal until you started seeing the signs. Evan grew up, and so did you. His tastes began to resemble his brothers' more than his own. The things you had in common diminished between the two of you, and that youthful love faded. The last straw was when you discovered he was cheating on you with one of your cousins.

You made your decision to break things up. The problem? Evan wasn't ready to let you go. Between the pressure from his family and his ego, he couldn't tolerate not having you. He was never physically aggressive, but he was hurtful enough to kill any affection you might have had for him—something he did a good job of masking and twisting to his advantage. In the end, everyone thought you were the one who hurt his feelings first when it was the opposite.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through that," Spencer tells you once you end the story. You shrug.

"I haven't seen Evan since I left home all those years ago. That's why it feels kind of weird now. But I need to get over it, leave that part of my life behind."

"It's a good way to see it, but if he tries to do something to hurt you again, I'll take care of it," Spencer says, eyebrows furrowing in full protective mode. It's sweet and kind of hot, too.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the thought, but Evan can be an intimidating guy, if you know what I mean. I don't think it's a good idea to go into a fight with him," you warn him. Spencer's eyes widen.

"Oh no. No. I didn't say that because I want to fight Evan, but I would if it's necessary - I said that to ask Garcia to hack him. The damage could be substantially more significant than if I tried to punch his face. I'm sure of it."

You can't help but burst into a fit of giggles.

"Absolutely no one should doubt you're a genius!" you say between giggles. Spencer grins widely. He loves making you laugh. He loves you.

For the rest of the afternoon, Spencer helps you to relax, cracking jokes from time to time and talking about whatever he thinks can work for you to stop overthinking. It actually works, and he feels proud of himself for staying grounded in an environment so out of his comfort zone. For you, he would do that ten thousand times and much more.

-

As you get ready in the bathroom, Spencer grabs a book from one of your shelves: Wuthering Heights. When he opens it, the first thing he sees is a handwritten note on the first page.

'It's not the way we see what makes us aware of the world; it's the way we feel it. My little girl, always trust in your instincts. They will always lead you to what you're looking for: the real kindness, the real love. Dad.'

Spencer thinks about how your dad's words got ingrained in you. For all the years he has known you, those words are the perfect fit for how you are. You see the world, but on top of that, you feel it. You value kindness and honesty. You trust in your guts. It's who you are, and it's one of the many reasons Spencer loves you.

Engulfed in how Heathcliff fights with his emotions as Catherine marries Linton, Spencer doesn't hear the bathroom door opening.

"Spoiler alert: everyone goes crazy and becomes ghosts at the end."

Spencer chuckles at your comment, but when his attention shifts from the book to you, his breath hitches in his throat, and his jaw almost hits the floor.

There you are. Ready for the rehearsal dinner in one of the dresses you bought for the occasion. You wouldn't say it's too fancy, but it suits you pretty well. Spencer would say 'pretty good' is an understatement, though. For him, you look stunning, marvelous, sexy, captivating, and all those words he can think of right now seem nothing compared to reality.

You confuse Spencer's lack of words with something bad. Maybe you went overboard.

"Too much?"

"What? No! It's - uh. You look amazing."

A sheepish smile creeps onto your face at the compliment.

"Well, you look very handsome, I must say," you add. And it's true. With a nice dark blue suit, Spencer looks so effortlessly attractive that it's almost a crime for you. How you will get your eyes off him tonight, you don't know. The funny thing is that Spencer is confronting the same dilemma as you.

"Are we ready then?" Spencer asks as he stands from the sofa and gentlemanly offers his arm for you to take. Unfortunately, the gesture reminds you this isn't an actual date. It's fake. Spencer is not your boyfriend.

"Yeah. Ready for the show," you reply, masking your disappointment with a chuckle. Little did you know, Spencer feels equally disappointed with the reality of the situation as well.

The patio is full of tables perfectly set for the guests' use. The decoration screams luxury and costly taste. You wouldn't expect less from an event where your mom is the main character.

At the entrance, Andrew is directing the staff as the guests start to arrive. You can spot some uncles and aunts from your mom's side. Your brother Ralph and his wife are talking to the wedding planner. Your soon-to-be stepfather is greeting the people already gathering.

“(Y/N)?” A voice calls from behind you. It only takes you seconds to recognize it: Kimberley, one of your cousins, and the worst nightmare you had when you were growing up.

"Hey, Kim. How are you?"

Before replying, the blonde gives you a tight embrace. "It has been so long!"

You don't know why she seems so glad to see you when you are not an ounce happy to see her. One of the last memories you have of her is trying to convince you she didn't sleep with Evan when she actually did.

"Are you not going to introduce me to this handsome? Are you?"

There she is. Kimberly is already seductively batting her eyelashes at Spencer. This shameless bitch.

"Baby, this is my cousin Kimberly. Kim, this is Spencer, my boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you," Spencer greets politely, with no attempt to make physical contact.

"It's a total pleasure," Kim says, extending her hand to Spencer. He feels compelled to comply, giving it an awkward squeeze. You internally roll your eyes.

It's a bad thing Kimberly doesn't seem phased or in a rush to leave, so she starts small-talking. Despite all the history between you and Kim, you don't want to be rude just at the beginning of the evening. In your mindset of leaving all behind, you are polite enough to engage in a simple conversation. Spencer is always backing you up. Even with the explicit attempts from Kimberly to get Spencer's attention through her flirty remarks, Spencer doesn't seem interested. If anything, he circles your waist to push you closer to him, kissing your head from time to time and talking to you and about you using sweet pet names.

If someone asks you, you would say it feels so fucking good.

"Kim, over here!" An award to the person who calls her name across the room and makes her decide to leave you both. But not before a flirtatious remark to Spencer.

"See you around, handsome."

Spencer looks at you curiously. "What's her problem?" he asks, referring to your cousin.

"Her problem? Her problem is that she can't see an attractive man without flirting with him. Much less if that man is standing next to me, literally or figuratively."

"Oh. Is she the one that-?"

"Yep," you reply before Spencer can end his question.

No further explanation is necessary.

After Kim leaves, some uncles and aunts you haven't seen in years come over to say hello as well. Spencer, always the kind man he's been, acts attentively as if he genuinely enjoys having to greet so many people he doesn't know. Which you know he hates.

"(Y/N)? Is that you?" You hear your name from behind.

Shit. You know that voice. You turn, and your assumption is confirmed. Evan.

"Evan? Oh, hi. I didn't recognize you."

Bullshit. Of course you did. Without any warning, Evan envelopes you in a tight hug. What's the problem with people? Why does everyone want to hug you today?

"It's so good to see you! You haven't changed at all!"

Spencer looks at the exchange and notices how tense you get. Knowing who that guy is, his brows furrowed in increase.

You barely return his embrace. When Evan finally lets you go, his eyes go to Spencer. Shaking off the discomfort, you clear your throat.

"Evan, this is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend. Baby, this is Evan," you introduce. With no other word said, Spencer stretches his hand to Evan. The man returns the gesture, and the two men trade a tight, tense handshake.

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the testosterone display.

"You won't tell him who I am?" Evan teases, and you furrow an eyebrow. "Oh, come on, (Y/N)! We spent so much good time together, didn't we?"

Your jaw tightens immediately. The audacity is incommensurable.

"Spencer already knows who you are, Evan. Actually, he knows more than enough," you say to the guy, who raises his hands in mock defense.

"Okay, okay. I should expect nothing good then." His gaze turns to Spencer now. "I'm sorry, man. I don't know what she told you about me, but I'm a good guy now. We don't have to rely on the past, right (Y/N)?"

Spencer doesn't even blink; his expression is neutral, the same one he uses when he's meticulously analyzing someone. He only returns a hum of acknowledgment before taking your hand.

"It was nice meeting you, Evan. Now, if you excuse us, we still have a few people to say hello to," Spencer apologizes, looking at you. "Right, love?" His gaze is piercing and protective, and it leaves you breathless and almost speechless.

"Yeah. Right. See you around," you tell Evan with a tight-lipped smile before disappearing from his sight with Spencer's hand in hand.

Out of people's ears and eyes, Spencer looks at you.

"Are you okay?" You nod appreciatively.

"Yeah. Good. Thank you for that," you say, jutting your thumb over your shoulder.

"You sure are okay?" Spencer's worry melts your heart.

"Spencer, it's fine. I'm okay. He's just an ass," you dismiss, and Spencer huffs a laugh.

"Understatement of the century, I must say. I mean, Evan is an ass, and pretty much everyone here." You hum in agreement.

"So, go figure how badly I missed being here all these years."

Spencer scoffs. "I can tell."

You both agree it's a good time for a drink. And not soon after, the rehearsal starts.

You've always hated protocol, especially when it comes to etiquette. It's funny how you ended up working for the FBI and haven't been fired yet for breaking a rule or two. You've undoubtedly caused Hotch a headache more than once. But at this very moment, all the FBI rules seem harmless compared to having to listen to the wedding planner barking orders back and forth. Before the dinner even started, you had to move your seat three times because the guests' seat configuration had been changed repeatedly.

Add to that the lighting adjustments, the photos, and the speech rehearsals. One thing you have to thank your mom for is that she didn't force you to give a speech. It's a good thing Lincoln and Ralph offered to provide one.

After all the commotion and the rehearsal finished, your mom decides it's not worth wasting the festive atmosphere and invites everyone to stay for an impromptu party. So you and Spencer keep wandering around among the crowd, who occasionally catch you for casual conversation. Everything's going well until Dylan asks Spencer for help with something, and you stay there, scrutinizing the surroundings that make you feel like an outsider in the same house where you grew up.

"Your boyfriend seems a good guy."

You turn around and see Evan standing next to you, holding two glasses of wine. He offers one to you.

"I assume you still prefer red over white."

You take the glass from his hand. Despite who's offering it to you, a drink can do good right now.

"You came alone?" you ask. Evan chuckles.

"Yeah, I've only been divorced for three months, so I wouldn't have the audacity to invite my ex out of courtesy."

You don't say anything. What could you possibly say? Sorry? You won't tell him that, even if you actually feel sorry for him.

"What do you want, Evan? I don't think you came over just to offer me a glass of wine."

"Maybe I did. As a form of apology?" The man shrugs.

"How so?" you ask, confused.

"Maybe you think this is cynical of me, and I understand. You don't have to believe me. But I seriously owe you an apology. Ten years late, but still."

You think maybe he’s joking, but he doesn't laugh. Weird.

"What? Do you have a conscience now?" you ask sarcastically. Evan chuckles.

"More than a conscience, karma has eaten me over the years. And, well, I know you went through a lot during those years, and I didn't behave in the way you needed. Clearly, you didn't deserve the way I treated you."

And ten years had to pass for him to realize. It's not something that surprises you, though.

"You're right. I didn't." Your voice is sharp. "And if this is a part of your checklist in favor of cleaning your karma, consider it done."

You haven’t in you to behave mercifully with someone like Evan. Not back then, not now.

"That means being friends is out of the options, isn't it?"

Even if your idea is to get over this, you're worth more than a shitty friendship with an ex.

"Listen. I haven't put a foot in this town since the day I left. My life is elsewhere now. The only thing here is my mom, brothers, and a bunch of memories. There is no reason for that to change."

Evan nods in understanding, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"That guy, Spencer, is lucky, you know? He's a far better boyfriend for you than I would have been even in my better days."

You scoff. "Damn well, he is."

He would. If only things were different, you know he would.

As on cue, you feel a shielding hand on the lower part of your back. You don't have to turn to know it's Spencer. You can recognize his touch everywhere.

"I'm sorry. It took me some time to get back. Did you miss me?" Spencer asks, planting a loving kiss on your cheek, ignoring that Evan is in there. You have to do everything in your power not to get flustered.

"It's okay, love. We were just talking."

"Yeah." Evan agrees.

"Great." Spencer's eyes go to Evan. "I hope you don't mind if I steal her now. I want to show you something," he says, now looking at you.

You nod, and Spencer grabs your hand to walk in the direction of the gardens.

The tension you have been feeling is melting slowly as you both walk to the fresh air of the night. It's like you can actually breathe now.

"Thank you. Again. You have already saved me twice tonight." Your voice is more collected, relieved, and appreciative.

"Don't mention it. It was that or waiting for an extra minute and having to pull you off as you were kicking Evan on the floor."

"Tempting," you muse. Spencer chuckles.

"My literally kicking-ass girlfriend," he teases, stealing a kiss from your cheek. You feel the flush rising in your skin again. The gesture is spontaneous, but it does nothing but make you feel giddy.

If only this were real.

The fresh air is welcoming as you and Spencer walk through the gardens hand in hand, far from the bustling.

"Did you spend a lot of time over here when growing up?" Spencer asks, gazing at the expansion of trees and bushes.

A smile creeps onto your face at the memories.

"I loved to walk around here, especially in the spring. There were more trees than there are now. I used to spend hours under that one there," you point to a big willow not far from you.

"It's really big," Spencer comments, admiring the tree.

"Yeah. Can I ask where that question comes from, though?"

Spencer's cheeks flushed a bit. He clears his throat.

"In one of the family photos I saw earlier in the house, you were a kid, playing under that same tree. And you looked so happy. Your smile was wide and bright. That made me wonder how many of those moments you had growing up and if, in the last few years, you have felt that kind of true happiness again."

Tilting your head to him, you think about the question. Have you? On a daily basis, you don't allow yourself to think much about your childhood years. Those memories tend to be locked in your mind.

"Well, at that time, things were different around here.

And as an adult? There are moments I treasure, and they make me happy. It's not the same as back then, but I assume it doesn't have to be the same. People grow and change to a certain extent."

It's the growing-up rule, right?

"Do you think people really change?" Spencer asks. You hum.

"I think so. Or if not, then we adapt."

Spencer hums in agreement.

"You don't think so?"

Spencer bites his lower lip, contemplating his response.

"I find it hard to believe that people really change. It's true that in our line of work, we've seen people go from 0 to 100, but it is always because there are processes that develop over time. I would agree more with the idea you mentioned about adapting to the environment."

You both stop walking as you lean your back against a tree trunk. You remain silent for a few seconds, enjoying the stillness and feeling the small breeze that begins to rise while you lose yourself in your thoughts. Spencer, with his hands in his pockets, looks toward the house, where movement can be seen, but you can barely hear it from where they are.

"Spencer, can I ask you something?" You break the silence, and Spencer looks at you.

"Sure."

"Do you think I am not lovable?"

Spencer's stunned expression is difficult not to notice.

"What? Where did you get that idea?"

Shrugging, you purse your lips for a second.

"I don't know. I mean, all the time, my family has been this adamant, repeating over and over that my life is a mess. They have never believed someone could love me for who I am, not because of my last name or the family I was born into. And I think I've gotten the idea so deep in my head that I've never given any relationship a chance, nor have I dared to pursue one."

Spencer's eyebrows furrow. How can you even believe that for a second?

"There is nothing further from the truth than that." There isn't a trace of hesitation in his voice.

You avert your gaze from Spencer out of embarrassment and vulnerability. You never confided in anyone a thought like this one.

"Hey, I mean it," Spencer insists, seeing how you don't want to look at him.

"You have to say that. You're my friend," you scoff, laughing. "I shouldn't have asked you this. It's stupid anyway."

Now, with one of his hands out of his pockets, he reaches your cheek.

"Look at me, please."

You timidly do as he says.

"I've known you for four years, six months, and three days. And from the moment you walked through the glass doors of the BAU, wearing your black coat and that furry scarf with your reddened nose from the cold peeking out, I knew things were going to be different, and in the best possible way."

"Yeah. They turned different; Hotch's migraines increased since I joined," you joke.

"Don't do that," Spencer chastises, chuckling.

"Do what?"

"Deflecting through making jokes. I'm trying to be serious here, okay?" His tone isn't truly mad or annoyed. The smile on his face is his tell.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry for interrupting you, Doctor Reid." The grin on your face tells Spencer you're still messing with him.

"That is precisely what I'm talking about. The way you are. Truly, honest, transparent. You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not because you're perfect the way you are. You're generous; you'll never stop sharing something you think another person needs. You're dedicated to your work; you make things happen, and you don't just sit around waiting. You've become a fundamental part of many people's lives, like mine. I can't imagine a world where I haven't met you."

It's weird to hear so many compliments in so few sentences. And coming from Spencer, it's impossible not to get flustered.

"Spencer, that's really sweet of you,” you say, voice small, trying to mask the way his words affect you.

"I'm not done."

"No?"

"Not even close. Maybe you didn't realize, but you are like a magnet, and not only because of your personality. Did you look at yourself in the mirror today? Jesus, you look stunning. People have been gravitating around you all night, and not because they already know you and want to say hi or because they have a history with you. It's because you intrigue them, captivate them."

"Oh, come on, Spencer. Don't overstate. How could you possibly know that?"

Spencer wonders how you cannot see that. For him, it's clear as day.

"Because I do know! Every man would be lucky to have you. Just- if only they could see what I see. If only you could see what I see."

It's dangerous territory, and Spencer knows, but the idea of you feeling unworthy of love? It's worse and intolerable for him.

Something in your guts tells you not to push it, but what the hell is he talking about? You need to know.

"And what's what you see that I don't?"

There it is. The question. The open door.

It would be so easy right now to come clean and confess. But Spencer is not sure. No, he is sure about his feelings; that's not the problem. It's a fact that one more word could be the nail in the coffin. Spencer knows he is no good at talking about his emotions. People usually misunderstand him, and things get twisted.

But Spencer is at a crossroads now. He can't just stay silent or try to change the subject.

After a second of deliberation, he clears his throat and shortens the distance with you a bit so he doesn't have to talk too loudly.

"Do you trust me?" Spencer asks, and you don't have to think twice about your response. What kind of question is that?

"Of course I do."

Your words fill Spencer with a sort of courage he hasn't had before. That, and some of the wine glasses he drank earlier.

"Good. Trust me on this, please," Spencer whispers, now tilting your chin up and leaning slowly—his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips. When you realize what he is doing, the air leaves your lungs, and you can't do anything but wait with bated breath and closed eyes for what's coming.

It's soft, barely there at first. A brush of lips that mingle the air between you. As you feel him just a millimeter apart, your heart is already yearning for more. Instinctively, you grasp the lapels of his jacket. Spencer understands what you want and closes the distance between you and him again. This time, with more purpose, his lips capture yours, and you kiss him back in no time.

You don't know if it was just seconds or a whole bunch of minutes you kept kissing. Your lips moving in synchrony is like a dream come true. It's sweet and all-consuming at the same time—a weird way to say what you have been hiding in favor of a lie. People say life works in mysterious ways. They might be right this time.

But good things have to end at some point. Spencer breaks the kiss first, a bit unsure about your reaction. His eyes scan yours for some clue.

You don't know what to say. It's a lot. Did he mean it?

"Wow." It's the only thing you manage to say. Spencer is not sure how good that is.

"A good kind of wow or a bad kind of wow?"

With your cheeks flushed, there is no option for a bad wow. How can he not notice it?

"Definitely a good wow. If you wanted to prove your point, it worked," you giggle, mid-nervous and mid-giddy. You can still feel the rush of adrenaline running through your body.

"I'm glad."

But what was actually the point he wanted to prove? Do you think Spencer wanted to show you how good you can feel when you let people in? When you willingly take down your guard and just feel. Well, that worked. But what did it mean for him? Was it really a confession? You are scared to ask.

Spencer smiles, and your stomach flips. Do you want to break the magic with rationality? No. Want Spencer to expose himself with a love declaration, truly? No. The best option for both of you is to ignore the whys and let things flow.

Your arms fling around Spencer's neck, and you tiptoe to shorten the distance.

"Can I?" You ask, knowing Spencer would understand. He nods, eyes glistening with anticipation. This is the best thing that has happened to him, and he won't waste the chance.

His lips catch yours in a soaring kiss. Savouring every second of it. His hands grip your hips to pull you closer. And you don't have it in you to protest—quite the opposite.

This kiss is everything you expected and more. His lips on yours are like honey, and you can't get enough.

The warm and tingling sensation in your body caused by his touch shuts down every thought. You don't want to stop, even if your brain tells you to do it.

In an attempt to regain control, you pause for a second, looking directly into his eyes.

"You know, there is nobody actually looking at us right now, right?" You point almost breathlessly, in case his motivations were only fuelled by the task of pretending to be your boyfriend.

"Yeah. I know," he replies, equally dizzy as you but not breaking eye contact. Has Spencer always looked at you that way?

"Spencer-"

"If you're uncomfortable, I'll stop," he whispers, so close that you can still feel his breath fanning your lips.

This is wrong; you know it. All the hooters blast in your head, alerting you to call it quits. You decide to play deaf, though.

"Please, don't stop," you whine, and Spencer can't deny you anything even if he wanted to.

In no time, his lips are on yours again, kissing you with urgency. This can't be fake, can it?

You're kissing him back with the same enthusiasm he has. It doesn't matter if you're alone or with a lot of people around. Your senses are consumed by the man holding you and devouring your mouth and soul.

You don't remember who took the lead first, but in one moment, you are making out under a tree in the gardens, and the next, you are stumbling into your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Spencer's arms envelope you in a way that makes you dizzy and needy. His lips travel down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, driving you insane. Your hands tug his jacket down his shoulders, making quick work of losing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

You are so invested in your task and feeling the warmth filling your body that you almost don't notice the zip of your dress giving in, calloused fingers dancing in your exposed skin.

"You're so gorgeous. Sexy. Marvelous," Spencer chants with his lips descending from your collarbone. A gasp escapes your mouth when your back hits the mattress; with Spencer on top of you, his hands roam your sides, gripping the supple of your hips, pushing his body to you. Through the fabric of his slacks, you can feel his hardness pressing into one of your thighs.

"Fuck-" you half curse and half moan.

"Feels good?"

"So so good. You feel so good, baby.” You breathe out.

You can't believe this is happening. It's like a dream come true. One of your best fantasies. The guy who you have been in love with for so long is about to fuck you, about to give you what you have been craving so much.

“You don't know how much time I wanted to do this,” Spencer confesses, trailing kisses in every patch of skin you reveal to him. He is drunk on you, and you surely feel drunk on him.

But in the haze of your lust-filled brain, something pops up. This isn't real. Spencer doesn't love you. He's your friend. He is only carried away by the heat of the moment. If you let this happen, it will ruin you both. You can't do this in the harbor of a lie.

"Spencer-"

Your voice comes out more like a moan. Your senses are foggy because of the way he's touching you, kissing you.

"I know. Let me take care of you, please."

And you want to. Oh god, you want to. But not like this. With the tiny will you have left, your hands cup his face, actually to stop him.

"I - Spence. No, please, stop."

Spencer halts his ministrations immediately. He can see your eyes filled with something he can't pinpoint. Something is wrong.

"What's it? Did I hurt you?"

His concern makes you feel bad. You don't want him to feel guilty for what is your fault.

"No. No, you didn't hurt me. It's just- Spencer, we can't do this."

Spencer's concerned eyes shift to confusion.

"Why? You don't want to?"

You take your chance to move from under his body to sit on the mattress. Spencer kneels, waiting for your answer.

"I do want to. Believe me, I do want to. But we shouldn't. It's going to twist everything."

"What are you talking about? Why would this twist-?"

Spencer trails off. He isn't sure why you are rejecting him now.

"This isn't real. We are confused because we're playing a role. We are friends, Spencer."

Spencer's frown morphs into a hurtful expression. Is it not real, you say? It feels real to him.

"What are you talking about? Why do you say this isn't real?" Your sudden change in behavior only fuels Spencer's perplexity.

"Because we're pretending. I don't want to fall on this because of it," you whine, looking for a way out of this moment.

"Is that what you really think? That we're pretending?" Spencer's voice is hurt, and you feel stupid for letting this happen. Stupid and exposed. Not wanting to reply to his question yet, you stand from the bed to retrieve some clothes. Spencer follows your movements, still naked on the torso and kneeling on the mattress. When you get out of his sight, behind him, he stands as well. You have already removed the dress, clad in your pajamas, and sat on the sofa in front of the bed, hugging your knees, trying to protect yourself.

"I asked you a question, (Y/N). Please, don't ignore me."

"I don't know!" you shout. "I think we are. I mean, the whole point of this was to deceive my family. And now, you say all those things about me, and we kissed, and I don't know!"

You avert his gaze, but you can feel it burning holes in your skin. When you don't say anything else, Spencer sighs in defeat.

"I can't compete with your past. If you still feel trapped there, there is nothing I can do."

His words take you by surprise. Why is he talking about your past?

"What?" You ask, puzzled by the harsh tone Spencer is using. Spencer scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"If you say this isn’t real, it's because you don’t want it to be. Maybe you feel nostalgic about this style of life, and there is something in you that wants this back."

He can't be serious, you think. Spencer can't mean that, can he? You don't want to get back to a life you escaped from years ago. It's not who you are.

"If you really think that, it means you don't know me at all." You say, hurt by the fact that Spencer thinks that way of you.

"I thought I did. But after tonight, I'm not so sure anymore."

"I can't believe it. I would have expected something like this from anyone but you, Spencer. Is it because I stopped us before having sex? Are your blue balls talking?"

You know your words sound sharp and raw, but you won't stand there without saying anything to defend yourself.

"What?! No! Do you really think this is all about? Me being sexually frustrated? That's very low, especially coming from you."

"If it's not that, then what the hell is happening? How did we get here? What are you not telling me?" Your voice is desperate at this point. Spencer groans in frustration. How could you be so clueless?

"You know- I really thought you felt it when we kissed. And now, you act like it was nothing!"

"What? What should I have felt?"

Spencer shakes his head. No, he won't expose himself to your rejection again.

"You know what? Just forget it. It's not my business, anyway. I'm just here to be your fake boyfriend. I'm sorry for crossing the line. It won't happen again." Spencer grabs his phone, charger, and his clothes from the floor, ready to leave the room.

"Spencer? Where are you going?"

"I know the room next door is empty. Andrew told me," he says, walking to the door, not sparing you a glance, as he opens it.

"What? Why? No! Don't go. Spencer, please don't do this. Can we talk about it?" You insist, trying to catch his attention. Spencer stops at the open door and turns to you.

"We already did. Goodnight (Y/N). I'll see you tomorrow. Let me know if you prefer to go to the wedding with another instead of me so that I won't do a ridiculous thing by showing up."

The door closes shut behind him. And you are left in the middle of your bedroom, hurt and confused.

You don't realize when the tears start to roll down until they blur your vision.

-

'Again, again, I let it go, let it go

Cover my mouth, don't let a single word slip

I wouldn't wanna tell you, no, tell you, no

Nothing could be worse than the risk of

Losing what I don't have now

I'm weaker by the minute, though

Is it so bad if I wanna cry out?'

[contentloadingandstuff]

Ganyu, Kujou Sara and their babies - Ganyu & Kujou Sara x Male!Reader

A/N: Shorter than what I usually do, I know. Anyway, enjoy! CW: Parental fluff, little mention of the reader, the characters being monster girls.

Ganyu who shows her kids the richest pastures, high in the mountains of Jeyun Karst. They might be little cuties with barely budding horns, but they climb very well, keeping up with their mother as she ascends the easiest approaches - she wouldn’t want them to get hurt, even if their daddy is waiting with open arms, ready to catch them at the foot of the wall. When they reach the top, your wife always smiles as she sees her babies jump in excitement at the colourful field of bright, joyful Qingxin and Sweet Flowers, just waiting to be devoured. She trusts you to look after her and the younglings as they graze peacefully, lying amongst the lush grass as they nom down their flowers. While there’s no need to watch out for predators, Ganyu still feels safer with you on the lookout. Just don’t try to walk up on her - it’s very easy to spook her when she’s this vulnerable. 

She makes sure her little ones eat properly - as natural herbivores, Qilins eat only whole grain and drink only spring water, and Ganyu will make sure it’s the best variety. Of course, the babies get to enjoy water only from the very sources - you wouldn’t want them to take in any of the nasty things the river picks up along the way. Cloud Retainer already created fields of weather-resistant flowers for her daughters’ enjoyment, and she will continue caring for those so that even Ganyu’s grand-grand-grandchildren can graze upon them. But Ganyu knows that variety is important, so you’ll get to take your little goats to enjoy some rapsflowers right from the beautiful fields of Qingce Village. For centuries Qilin have been free to enjoy the crops as the people of Liyue see it as a sign of Adeptal blessing. And they’re not wrong - Xianyun will make sure the farmers get to enjoy the mildest of weathers and the greatest of harvests in return for their kindness. 

Kujou Sara who didn’t expect her hatchlings to be such a menace to society. When they were young, they were in constant need of attention - if left alone, they would quickly grow cold as they haven’t grown their feathers out just yet. And the squawking… It’s good that she was taken in by the humans at a later age, as just thinking about her adoptive father having to endure her begging for inexplicable amounts of food makes her flustered. Still, they were lovely to look at, snuggled into their parents. Later it would become the only moment when the nestlings would behave. Sara doesn’t remember being this rowdy and mischievous when she was young. The little Tengu are endlessly curious, hunting out every shiny and colorful object made by humans. They are always on the hunt for shinies to nick, be it from trash or from “unguarded” troves to offer them to their parents. It is adorable, but also disrupts the peace. But if the humans don’t seem to mind having their miscellaneous items and bits of food stolen by the General’s sons and daughters, blessings of the Youkai and all… It’s an acceptable practice. She might not have done it, but if it’s in their nature, she won’t try to restrict her offspring in the same way she was. 

Although not being able to fly herself after the crippling injury in her youth, Sara does remember a few things. How adorable the younglings are as they watch their mother spread her wings, admiration flickering in their little eyes! The first few attempts might be moderately successful at best, but Sara won’t mind - practice makes perfect, after all. In no time she will watch them soar the skies, her chest swelling with pride and love. And when they come down, their mother will preen them to make sure their wings are as beautiful and healthy as can be. 

Thanks for reading!

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Mr. Barnes Pt.1

Bucky Barnes x reader [pt.2]

When Sam brings someone new to his council meetings hosted in the library, the mystery man becomes the hot topic among the librarians.

2k

Single dad Bucky, librarian reader, Sam still has his counceling job. Imagine John didn't absolutely fuck up and is currently being a decent Cap somewhere in the background.

The library was quiet today outside of the scheduled ex-veteran meetings that were hosted once a month. You barely had any customer interaction today and you were bored. Luckily boredom didn’t last long as the men of varying ages started coming in for their meeting. The retired army men always spoke so kindly to you and your coworkers, especially the older, greying men who’d drink their free coffee and stopped for a casual chat whenever any of the librarians had time for them during their visits.

Like always Sam had shown up early, his ever-present smile and kind eyes drew a crowd like clockwork. He’d always be all sunshine and cheer while he set up the last things for the meetings he hosted and brought comfort food for the elderly. He made sure to bring something extra for "his favorite ladies" as he called you and your coworkers, as well. A few takeout boxes with a variety of foods were dropped off in the break room with a sweet little note telling the librarians to enjoy the food, signed by S. Wilson.

“Say thanks to Sarah for me, will ya?” You mumbled as you walked past Sam, making sure the others didn’t hear you mention the one who’d always prepare the delicious foods.

Today, though. Today was different. The food was dropped off without the usual amount of bravado, and the flirty suave Sam didn’t have as much eye for the ladies as he normally had. No, today there was someone else following him around and held most of his attention. Unknowingly, he held the librarians’ attention as well.

Behind Sam trailed a man looking to be around the same age as him. Although the beard and tired eyes did age him a little. Icy blue eyes framed by loose strands of dark brown hair that sat mostly tied in a messy bun. He wore a leather jacket, worn over what looked to be generations of living. A small scarf sat around his neck, hiding skin behind patterned grey fabric. Off one arm hung a motorcycle helmet, its visor gleaming in the overhead light. He still wore his gloves. Dull black leather covering his hands, leaving nothing of his body except for his face uncovered. 

After the meeting had finished and the crowd had left once more it seemed like everyone on the team had seen the guy that followed Sam like a lost puppy, and Sam himself was all but forgotten. 

The Steady buzz around the front desk made it clear no one was going to be doing any work anymore, only talking among colleagues about the mystery man. 

The man showed up more often after that day. Without fail he was at each and every meeting Sam hosted, shadowing him like he would get lost if Sam stepped out of his line of sight. As time went on he started wandering in on his own, always in long sleeves and gloves. No matter the weather he always kept himself covered up. 

It had become a topic of conversation between the library staff, all wondering what the man was hiding underneath. The answer that sounded most obvious was scars, he was a war veteran after all.

"Leave him be, girls." Sam had murmured as he passed the staring group of women once again. 'Him' being the man you learned was named James. Sergeant James Barnes, who "came to these sessions for a reason" and "did not need a gaggle of horny women trailing after him.". Sam, who used to be the object of the staff’s affection, was now all but waved off as he appeared to be blocking the view of Sergeant Barnes. 

"I'm sorry, Sam. They're being assholes." You sat beside him after he finished another meeting, always staying behind to let his mind rest for a moment and have one last coffee before heading back home.

Sam only chuckled as he watched the other women swoon from behind the counter, over his friend who was making his way out of the door and actively ignoring every single one of them. 

Sam leaned back in his chair, slightly tipping his body towards you and spoke in a low voice. "Oh no I get it. I mean, look at him." 

=☆=

It had been over a month and still the library staff's productivity dropped to zero once the veterans, or more specifically, Sargeant Barnes walked in. They'd all greet the others as well to be less obvious, or at least try to. It didn't work, though.

Sam's sister, Sarah Wilson had prepared extra treats for everyone this time, some special occasion you didn't catch the details of but all the food was too much for Sam alone to handle. 

"Can you grab those last ones? I gotta get started or I'll be wasting everybody's time." Sam came speed walking by with a stack of takeout boxes in hand, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes. 

“Of course. For you, always.” You smiled kindly as you spun to follow his figure, fishing the car keys from his jacket pocket and heading out to grab the last boxes and bring them over to the meeting room.

Once you made your way through the main area and reached the meeting hall after maneuvering through visitors with the small stack of food you could hear someone speak from the doorway. It wasn't the voice of an elderly man, like you'd usually catch as you passed the doorway, but a younger one.

The words made you slow your step, savor the moment before the speaker caught someone walking in.

You listened to the man speak about remembering..

Remembering victims. Deaths and killing.

He spoke of the violence in a sense of not even wanting to participate. Not then, and not now, here in the room with the others. 

The tremble in his voice had you moving, walking into the room as quietly as possible with Sam's requested boxes that you set with the others, sneaking along the wall towards the table in the back and setting down the food.

You couldn't help but look towards the front of the room where the men all sat in a circle. It was only then that you realised who was talking. The man stood out among the greys that filled this week’s session.

It was Sergeant Barnes. He sat with his head down, a gloved hand gripping his left arm so tight you were afraid he'd tear through his sleeve as he tried to even out his breathing. The leather jacket he wore hung over the back of the chair and the dark red henley he wore did nothing to hide the tension and shaking of his shoulders.

He hadn't seen you, but Sam had. He had given you a quick nod in acknowledgement but returned his attention to his friend immediately after. 

It was after the meeting when you saw him again, still frazzled from speaking up earlier. Sam was at his side, handing him two large takeout boxes of food, giving him a last pat on the shoulder and bidding him a safe ride home.

"I made sure to put in enough for you and Maxie." You heard him say as the two of them parted ways.

Maxie.. You hadn’t heard them talk about that person before, did Mr. Barnes have a girlfriend? Uou wouldn’t go feed Sarah’s spiced foods to a pet.

"Don't worry, girls. There's some for you as well." Sam mused as he passed the front desk where you were keeping busy with administration. You worked while the others swarmed around, pretending to be doing stuff near the front desk only to drool over Sergeant Barnes.

"Thank you, Sam. That's so kind." Taking the boxes from him you made a grand gesture of it and quickly put them away in the break room. You put effort into giving him extra attention, it bothered you how everyone else so easily dismissed Sam’s kindness. He was a good friend of the library staff, or at least that’s what you thought.

The second Sam was out the door as well, the first shoulder shoved into you as your coworker’s face inched closer to yours with a strange look on her face. 

“So, are you planning to share what you heard in there?” 

“Yeah girl, we know you heard Barnes talk, what did he say?” The desk was covered in women begging you to spill but you respected the men who came in to share their trauma in a safe environment and you weren’t planning on ruining something by sharing info that was no one else’s business.

Bucky’s ride home was a slow one. His head still spun from speaking up in front of the group and recalling memories of his time as the Winter Soldier. Even disguised as army talk he still couldn’t shake the voice in the back of his mind. The voice thet sounded eerily like a deeper, darker version of his own, a thick russian accent whenever it decided to speak english.

He almost ran a red light. Twice.

“Goddamnit Barnes, get it together..” He mumbled into his helmet.

Back at the apartment building after retrieving the food from his bike bags and slinging his helmet around his arm Bucky made his way up to his home where he could hear his daughter before he saw her, singing along to the tunes of her favorite movie she could quote by heart. Maxie had watched that movie so many times now that even Bucky wasn't immune to humming along to the tune of ‘Bad Reputation’. He had found himself humming the tune even when he was out and about, something about the lyrics that he tried to keep close. Plus, it made him think of Maxie, who hadn’t noticed him coming home yet with how focused she was on acting along with the movie. 

“Really,” Bucky decided to announce his presence when the song was over. “watching this one again?” He leaned against the countertop with the bag of food in his hand, a knowing smile on his face as he watched Maxie turn around and jump up at the sight of the simple white bag. 

“Uncle Sam brought food? Yay!” Within seconds she had climbed her way onto the barstool, ready for her autie Sarah’s food. 

Bucky got everything ready with a huff and a roll of his eyes. Maxie always got excited when he brough home extras from his meetings, a smile on her face from the second she’d see it in Bucky’s hands or or on the bar counter that separated the kitchen and livingroom and served as their dining table. The place was just big enough to fit the big couch and a coffee table. 

And yeah, Bucky could have picked a different couch to make more room for other furniture, but Maxie had loved this one a little too much. It also didn’t help that it was the perfect size for him to sleep on without having his legs dangle off one end or have his knees hang off the front when he pulled his legs up. No, that couch wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Dad? You there?” Maxie knocked on the counter to get her dad’s attention, pulling him back out of his mind.

“Sorry, sweetie. Had a difficult meeting today, my head is still weird.” Bucky quickly grabbed cutlery while Maxie unpacked the bag and placed a box on either side of the bar top. 

“M’sorry your day was weird.” It was all Maxie really said regarding Bucky’s issues. He hadn’t told her anything besides that he used to be in the army and he was seeing people to talk about it during the meetings he attended. Luckily she was a smart kid and grew up fast enough to stay home alone for the duration of Bucky’s meetings. 

Bucky wished he could talk about it all more with her, but she was too young. She didn’t need all of that trauma dumping just yet. 

Maybe he’d try and start with the simple being a soldier part, to at least create a little base to build up from over time.

He’d have to ask the kind librarians for some help, eventually.

[madschiavelique]

Hello! I saw your rules so I decided to I guess rerequest in the way you asked. I was wondering if you could write about a female reader coming in one day with a sundress and Miguel just goes absolutely feral. He’s just trying to keep it professionally but ends up failing and just going ham on the reader

OMG anon i'm kissing your brain hehehehe (summer is killing us all besties : please don't forget to hydrate yourself <3)

summary : miguel sees you in a sundress

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, fingering, biting and marking, this man is so in love with you, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, praise word count : 1,6k

Summer had arrived, and as in most dimensions, except for the apocalyptic two or three where everything was frozen or the weather had simply declined with little chance of a return, it was hot.

And although the air-conditioning was in every room and corridor of the spider society, that in no way prevented members from dressing a little more lightly, although some might find this a sign of a lack of professionalism, one in particular, needless to mention, whose name began with Mi and ended with Guel.

Today was a fairly hot day, and all the spiders were practically fighting for ice cubes, a spot of coolness that would bring them comfort. Many of them were dressed in shorts, a variety of shirts, t-shirts, skirts and even tank tops.

So you seized the opportunity and put on a summer dress. It was charming, in your favourite colour, not too long and not too short, stopping just above the knees, with a beautifully plunging neckline to show off your curves. It was light, incredibly comfortable to wear, and needless to say that in spider society, it was a change to see you like this.

Like most of the members, people were used to seeing you in your suit, or in civilian clothes that could be considered professional. But this dress? It was a little ray of freshness.

Miguel was chatting in the cafeteria with Jessica and Peter, all having a serious discussion that you were supposed to join. You entered the cafeteria, looking around for them.

"Oh, hey over here!" called Peter to you with a smile, "Oh. My. God. What's the occasion for you dressing like that?"

Miguel, who until now had been stubbornly focused on getting Peter to stand still for this meeting, huffed before turning his head and...

He became static, his breath caught, his eyes wide open as he watched you come towards him. All the others were oysters, and you were a pearl: the best of them all, the most beautiful, the purest.

You offered a gentle smile as you came closer, and his lips parted slightly as the gesture gave him the warmth of thousands of sunbeams.

"It's true that you look ravishing, cutie," Jess admitted as you sat down next to Miguel, facing the other two on the opposite side of the table. "What's the occasion?" she repeated after Peter's question.

"Yeah," said Miguel, clearing his throat as he straightened up and pretended to keep a straight face, "what's the occasion?

You gave them all a small, smiling laugh.

"Nothing in particular, I'm just trying to beat the heat," you said as you took your seat, "why? I shouldn't have?" The possibility that your attire might pose a problem in maintaining the balance of the multiverse hadn't occurred to you.

"No!" The strength with which Miguel denied this surprised you all.

He swallowed, his sentence had come out a little stronger and a little more involved than he had intended.

"No," he pulled himself together as he took on his usual grumpy tone that everyone knew well, "although it's a lack of professionalism, we're not going so far as to prevent your freedom of clothing in the Society."

Well caught up, he thought as he brought his glass of water to his lips. Around the table, he was the only one wearing his suit. Because it was made of pixels and produced by a refined technological composite, he didn't suffer from the heat. Jess was wearing a t-shirt and cycling shorts, Peter a shirt and trousers, and you your summer dress.

Jess and Peter exchanged a quick glance, a mischievous smile stretching across their lips. Most of the elite and close teammates knew about your relationship with Miguel, and although he wasn't always the most public about your relationship, he cared about you immensely, and they both could only imagine the effect you were having on him.

"So, what did I miss?" you asked.

Jess started to explain the situation, but Miguel wasn't really listening. His eyes were obviously riveted on you, and even when he tried to refocus on the conversation, his thoughts and eyes were redirected in your direction as if magnetised.

You were... radiant, beautiful, and... for a moment his eyes went down to the bench you were sharing: the skirt part of your dress was slightly pleated, exposing the skin of your slightly spread thighs, sinking into the space where your cunt was.

He suddenly had the urge to slide his hand over your soft skin, to press it between his fingers and see the bounce of it brimming over under the grip of his hand.

And your cleavage was showing your bare skin, and he wanted to kiss your neck, to nibble your collarbone as he kissed down to the hollow of your breasts...

Keeping his hands to himself was becoming complicated, every little movement you made, even if it was just to readjust your sleeve over your shoulder, was becoming intoxicating. How was it possible to become even hotter by wearing more clothes?

His professionalism really started to take a hit when your leg inadvertently brushed against his, a shiver running down his spine.

But he couldn't touch you here, there was no tablecloth at this cafeteria table that could conceal his desires.

How he longed to do it, even if it was just to touch your thigh with his fingers, to run his hands over your sublimely covered body and to-

"Miguel? Can you remind us about what the last reports stipulated considering the last anomaly?" asked Peter, bursting Miguel's thought bubble, "I can't remember it for the life of me, it must be the heat." he complained. "What do you guys say we postpone this meeting? I can't think straight no matter how many fresh cocktails i drink."

It was true that the glasses had accumulated on Peter's side. A sigh escaped Jessica's lips.

" I regret to say it, but I agree. We can't think properly with the temperature."

Tell me about it, thought Miguel. He didn't care about the temperature, the real distraction was you. He exchanged a glance with you, and you looked at him with a small smile, waiting for his answer.

"Good," he said, simply nodding. "I won't detain you, you can leave."

Peter let out a small chirp, he and Jess getting up from the table to leave. Once away, you turned to Miguel, tilting your head to the side in playful puzzlement.

"The great Miguel O'Hara closing a meeting like that? Summer really does have its magic."

If summer could let him see you every day in that outfit, he'd make sure it lasted forever. His eyes roamed your silhouette again, biting the inside of his cheek. His hand skimmed the side of your leg, hovering gently over it until he placed it on the inside of your thigh, pressing.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, his eyes returning to yours.

"I'm guessing you like the dress," you said more softly.

"Very," he replied simply.

His behaviour was becoming less and less... acceptable in public. So he took your hand and led you out of the cafeteria. Would he be able to wait until you returned to his quarters ? Probably not.

But he knew every nook and cranny of the building, it was his, so you passed down one corridor, then two, then three, until you came to an alleyway you'd never seen before, darkened by the lack of activity.

He glanced in each direction, then immediately came to press you against the first wall you came to, kissing you hungrily.

"That dress is going to be the death of me," he murmured as he came to kiss your cheek followed by your neck, his hands placed on your waist and thigh as he feasted on your skin.

His hand slid up your leg, gripping the warm skin of your thigh as you let out a moan. His fingers moved up your inner thigh almost hastily, unable to contain his need to touch you.

"You're so pretty," he breathed as he came back to kiss you, "all pretty for me, nena."

His fingers reached the fabric of your panties, your body arching. His fingers went under the elastic of the latter and down to your cunt.

"Tengo la novia más linda del mundo," he whispered, kissing the back of your neck, tracing the line of your pulse as he made circular movements around your clit. "Such a beautiful body," he inserted a finger inside you, making you whine softly, "such a beautiful voice," your wetness was starting to stick to his hand. "And it's all mine."

With his other hand, he shifted the short sleeve of your dress, exposing more of your shoulder and placing soft pecks on it. His lips caressed your skin, and his fangs grazed it as he added a second finger.

He was curving his fingers in a sublime way, the strokes combining perfectly with the undulations he was making and hitting the perfect spot.

He kissed the skin of your shoulder, sucking it until it left a bluish mark.

"All mine," he repeated in a murmur as he ran his tongue over the mark he'd just made.

Your moans multiplied, breath hitching, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, the hot cloud in your lower belly and back spreading.

"Come nena, let me see your pretty face when you do," he said, kissing you a little before pulling back and watching you with his drunken eyes.

You came, your legs all wobbly as Miguel's hand came to rest on your back to keep you upright. He kissed your temple and forehead, calming you gently.

"You're a dream," he said, covering the mark he'd left on your skin with your sleeve as you trembled, only he was aware of the hold he had over you.

Needless to say, from that day on in the summer, the air-conditioning became suspiciously faulty, because he had every intention of seeing you wearing that dress again.

[urdreamydoodles]

can you maybe do a gambit x fem!reader when the reader is sick? I got covid rn and I love ur stories

Remy LeBeau x Sick!Reader

How is Remy when you are sick

When you're feeling under the weather, Remy LeBeau becomes your devoted caretaker, taking it upon himself to bring warmth and comfort into your home, despite his usual laid-back demeanor.

Remy is my beloved, thank you for this request. I hope you like it!

- The moment Remy realizes you’re feeling under the weather, he drops everything to be by your side. You barely need to ask him for help—he's already pulling out blankets, fluffing pillows, and making sure you're as comfortable as possible. Despite his usual carefree nature, he’s immediately serious and focused when it comes to taking care of you.

- Remy insists on bringing you everything you could possibly need, from medicine to warm tea. He remembers every little detail you've ever mentioned about what helps you feel better and makes sure to include all of them. When he can’t find what he’s looking for, he’ll go out of his way to get it, even if it means driving across town.

- One of Remy's biggest strengths is his ability to make you laugh, and he brings out all his best jokes and impressions to lift your spirits. He can’t stand seeing you look so miserable, so he tries his hardest to distract you with his endless charm and humor. His Cajun accent seems to thicken whenever he tells a story, and he knows exactly how to use it to make you smile, even through your sniffles.

- Though Remy isn’t the best chef, he tries his hand at cooking your favorite comfort foods. He’ll follow recipes carefully, but there’s always a hint of his playful side in the kitchen, like sneaking in a dash of extra spice or cracking a joke while he stirs a pot. He’s surprisingly attentive, watching closely to see if his cooking lifts your mood, and he’s secretly thrilled if you enjoy even a single bite.

- Remy is endlessly attentive, always checking if you need more blankets, another glass of water, or a different type of tea. His nurturing side, rarely seen by others, shines through in small gestures. He doesn’t just sit around either; he’s constantly on his feet, looking for ways to help or checking the temperature to ensure you’re comfortable. His attentiveness makes you feel cherished and cared for, like there’s nothing more important to him than seeing you get well.

- He’ll sit beside you on the bed or couch, reading aloud from a book or comic, trying to distract you from how sick you feel. He reads in a variety of silly voices, especially for the characters, getting into it with exaggerated gestures and facial expressions. His storytelling pulls you into another world, making you forget about your discomfort for a little while.

- Remy’s touch is always gentle when you’re feeling sick. Normally, he’s a flirt, playful and mischievous, but he knows exactly when to dial it down and be comforting. He’ll hold your hand, gently rub your back, or press a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch is warm and reassuring, and you feel a deep sense of safety and love with him by your side.

- To help you sleep better, Remy hums a soft, soothing tune in that low, rich voice of his. It’s a lullaby he remembers from his childhood, sung to him by his mother, and he hums it gently, hoping it will bring you comfort too. The melody is soft and tender, calming your racing mind and lulling you into a restful sleep.

- Remy is incredibly patient with you, especially when you’re feeling irritable or uncomfortable. He understands that being sick makes you feel vulnerable, and he’s more than willing to handle any grumpiness or complaints. If you snap at him in a moment of frustration, he just gives you a warm smile and brushes it off, assuring you that he knows you’re just not feeling well.

- Every so often, Remy will surprise you with a small gift to lift your spirits—a flower he found, a funny little trinket, or even a card he made himself. His gifts are never extravagant, but they’re full of thought and care. Each one reminds you of his affection and makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world to have someone who goes to such lengths just to make you smile.

- As you start to feel better, Remy teases you lightly, saying that he must be an incredible nurse if you’re already on the mend. He’ll exaggerate his own heroic efforts, making you laugh as he recounts the dramatic lengths he went to just to ensure your comfort. His humor is infectious, making the lingering traces of your illness feel far less significant.

- When you’re finally able to sit up and move around, Remy insists on celebrating your “recovery” with something special, like a picnic in a park or a cozy night in with your favorite movies. He’s as energetic as ever, eager to make up for the days when you were stuck in bed. His excitement is contagious, and it makes you feel like your health is something to celebrate.

- Even after you’re fully recovered, Remy keeps an extra-close eye on you, still checking in with the same attentive care he showed while you were sick. He can’t help it; you’re too important to him. Any little sniffle has him on alert, ready to swoop in and care for you at a moment’s notice. His devotion doesn’t waver, and you know you’ll always have a steady, loving presence by your side in Remy.

[cryptotheism]

You mentioned all known AS strains being able to enjoy coffee-which strains prefer which brewing methods, and how many have bred specific cultivars versus just landraces?

Are things hot enough that you can grow coffee bushes everywhere, or are there varieties that can tolerate cold weather?

Or is there a cluster of Coffee Merchant Houses that both supply everyone and are constantly at each other's throats?

There is definitely some chunk of the Thousand Houses who manage the Lwes-Atalan coffee trade.

And no you can't grow coffee everywhere, by the amber sky has what is essentially a high renaissance economy. There are trade ships and relatively well maintained trade routes, and coffee is a popular commodity that can be profitably produced and shipped.

I imagine there isnt much diversity in coffee cultivars per se, but methods consumption and preparation are highly diverse. The atalan radula mouth probably favors a preparation closer to a thick, cold matcha. The briah heavily spice theirs similar to Southern American chicory coffee. The teykorile can't have dairy so they'd probably take it black. I can imagine that ruminant strains like the baqari just kinda chew the beans raw. Maybe the khularim ferment it? Idk if fermenting coffee does anything.