#thank god for my journal lmao

[sforzesco]

saw the "how often do you think about the Roman Empire" meme and thought about you <3

my first thought was to say, well maybe not every day, but I just looked in my journal and I do I fact think about Ancient Rome on a daily basis

[lokh]

oh my god. ive been on t for 3 years and 3 months???????????

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[tonberry-yoda]

A Nice Girl - Zuko

Pairing - Zuko x f!reader

Warnings - none!!

Word Count - 3,211

Notes - I have been pumping out these really long fics lately lmaoooo. i dont mean to i just simply get carried away. i need to stop before i get a block tho lmao. AND IM ALMOST AT 400 FOLLOWERS OMG!!! im like so excited about it tbh. maybe ill open my request when we get there. thank you all and i hope you're all well. stay hydrated!!

You yawned and stretched, the silk from your nightgown tickling you. That had to have been the best sleep you have gotten these past couple of weeks. As the oldest in the “gaang” at 17 years old, you had to act as the mother of the group and felt this awful need to protect everyone all the time, thus granting you several sleepless nights.

Sure, Ba Sing Se didn't feel like home and it didn't feel 100% safe either, but you got to sleep in a comfy bed and wear some really nice clothes. You had to admit that it was nice to be working with the Avatar sometimes.

You pushed your tangled hair out of your face and looked into the full length mirror next to your bed. Yeah, you definitely slept well, that was no question. You could tell by the rat’s nest created on your head and the sleep lines across your arms and face. You definitely needed to wash up before you started your day.

You got out of bed, stretching as the sun kissed your warm cheeks. You were going to make the best out of today. Lots of planning, but lots of downtime too, so that was nice.

As you finally walked out of your room, you were welcomed to cackling laughter from Sokka, his finger pointed at you.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically, Katara handing you a brush. “Very funny, Sokka.”

“Not just funny,” he said through laughter. “It’s hilarious, y/n! You look so stupid!!!”

You rolled your eyes, hiding a smile, and tamed the rat’s nest on your head, looking a little more yourself.

Aang walked in the house holding a bowl of snacks with a smile on his face. “Oh, good morning, y/n! You sure slept in this morning!”

“Slept in?” You tilted your head. “What time is it?”

Katara took the brush from you and set it down on a nearby drawer. “Almost 10 am.”

“What?!” You were shocked. You were usually the first one up always and if not, you never slept past 8.

Katara giggled. “Listen, y/n. I think it's great that you finally got some sleep. We never really see you rest well, so none of us had the heart to wake you up.”

You beamed. “You guys are the best. Well,” you stretched. “I'm gonna get washed up so I don't look like a sleepy monster all day.” Something about Ba Sing Se gave you the creeps, but at the same time, it was nice to be back in a place where you could bathe in warm water and not fear Zuko coming after you. It's not like you had anything against the Fire Nation prince… it's more like… he was an inconvenience to you and the rest of the gaang. Since you and Zuko were about the same age, you understood him. Well, kinda. You escaped the Fire Nation when you were younger, disagreeing with all of their ideals and overall how they treated the world. You did see the prince as Fire Nation scum, but at the same time, you saw him as a kid, just like you. He was banished for god knows what and he just wanted to go home. You didn't hate Zuko. Not one bit. You understood that he may just be in some sort of hidden pain. But you had to admit that it was kinda nice to not have him around to bother you.

You got out of the shower refreshed and ready for the day. It was nice to have a day off, so you were probably going to get some tea and write in your journal about how the past couple of weeks have been. You figured it would be nice to log everything that has ever happened on this little journey just in case you all wanted a refresher in the next twenty years or so. You slipped on some Earth Nation attire and smiled at yourself in the mirror as you braided your hair. Today is going to be a good day, you thought. Nothing better than tea and some late breakfast.

“I'm going out for the day,” you said, placing your bag on your shoulder. “Stay out of trouble today, got it?”

You looked at Aang and he laughed. “I will, I will! Have a nice day, okay, y/n? You deserve it.”

“You’re all too kind to me. Thank you.”

“And let me know if you find Appa!”

“I will, don't worry.”

You smiled and walked out of the house, smelling the fresh Earth Nation air. Luckily, the walls didn't cover the fresh air, so you could still get the almost afternoon breath.

You spent the beginning of the day walking around shops, buying some supplies and new clothes for yourself and the others. The markets were busy, but it was nice to get some of the things you needed without Aang begging for some stupid trinket that you always ended up buying him because you thought it was cool too. That was always your impulse, stupid things that Aang showed you. Those could be the death of you.

As you finally finished your browsing journey, you overheard a conversation while looking over a map.

“I swear their tea has gotten better.”

“Really? I dunno.”

“I'm serious. It has to be the best tea shop in Ba Sing Se.”

“Fine, we can go try it later.”

You turned to the two men a little embarrassed that you were eavesdropping. “S-Sorry, but I was kinda listening to your conversation… uh… where’s that tea shop you were talking about? I've been trying to find a nice place to get some tea all morning.”

The man hyping up the shop smiled at you. “Don't worry about eavesdropping, kiddo. It's right here.” He pointed to the map you were looking at and you were satisfied that it wasn't too far from where you currently were.

You thanked the man and began your journey to the shop. It was a little closer to afternoon and you could feel your stomach rumbling, so you just decided to skip right to lunch.

You walked into the tea shop and saw people smiling and laughing together, the heavenly scent of tea filling your senses. You were quickly seated at a lone booth and given a menu. Everything looked so good, you could swear that you were about to drool just thinking about food.

You decided to order something that the waitress recommended and as she walked away, you flipped through your journal, going over everything that you and the gaang had been through. You quietly laughed to yourself as you passed a page that said: note to self - slap Zuko’s bald head at least once. Imagine the sound that would make.

It’s definitely been a long trip of both laughter and struggle, and honestly, you were really happy. You don't remember the last time you had laughed so hard before you met Aang and the others. It was nice. Really nice.

“Here’s your tea. Is there anything else you need?” Your tea was set in front of you along with your lunch and you tilted your head at the familiar voice that wasn't your waitress from earlier. It was on the tip of your tongue.

“I think I'm alright, thank-” You looked up and the smile you had suddenly dropped. No way. “Zu-”

Before you could say his full name, Zuko covered your mouth and quickly let go, hoping no one saw or heard any of that. “P-Please don't.”

“But you’re-”

“I know,” Zuko’s voice was low. “Just… can we talk… in the back?”

You looked around the restaurant at all of the other people and back at Zuko. He looked so different. Barely recognizable. His face didn't look so pissed off and he had a short head of hair now that looked healthy. The only reason you recognized him was the scar, but honestly, if he covered it up somehow, you wouldn't have a clue that he was the prince of the Fire Nation.

You nodded and stood up, collecting your things. You followed Zuko to the back, almost a little scared. You had no means of defending yourself. You were a non bender, so if he wanted to pick a fight, you were screwed. You didn't even have a simple weapon on you. Maybe you were getting too cozy.

Zuko brushed off a small table and pulled out a chair for you, which you sat in with slight hesitation.

“How did you get into Ba Sing Se?” You didn't mean to sound so defensive. Well, you did, but you weren't expecting to. Especially not on such a good day like this.

“It's… a long story.”

“Why are you here?”

“Listen… It’s not for the Avatar.”

“Huh? Is that so?” You crossed your arms and looked him dead in the eye. “Then explain to me how you always end up where we just so happen to be. That’s suspicious, isn't it?”

“I-”

“If you hurt Aang, I swear to-”

“I don't care about Aang right now!”

The whole room went quiet. You had never heard Zuko say Aang’s name before, let alone not care about what the Avatar is doing.

“Then why…”

“I have my own stuff to deal with. It's none of your business, okay? I do have a life outside of the Avatar, you know.”

You nodded and looked down at your tea. “I'm… assuming your uncle made this?” You giggled softly.

“Yeah. He did.” Zuko’s voice was small and way less frustrated.

“So that’s why this tea shop has hype all of a sudden.” You wondered aloud, your eyes wandering to the ceiling.

Zuko cleared his throat and shuffled in his spot. “So… uh… what now?”

“Promise not to hurt Aang and I won't say a word about you being here. I believe that you have your own stuff to deal with, so prove it to me.”

“I promise.”

Your eyes locked with his and you smiled, shocking Zuko a bit. You smiled at him, the guy that’s been trying to hurt you and your friends this whole time. The guy who would’ve done anything for the Avatar to be in his hands.

“You probably hate me, don't you?” Zuko spat out, rubbing the back of his neck.

You tilted your head. “Hate’s a strong word, don't you think?”

Zuko looked at you, appalled. “I mean, I would understand if you did.”

“It's been a long road for you, hasn't it, Zuko?”

He nodded at you and you pointed to the other side of the table, just realizing that he was standing that entire time. “Let’s share some tea.”

“I-I don't know if that’s a good idea.” Zuko took a step back.

“Ah, I see,” you stood up, scooting your chair back in. “You’re a busy man with a job now.”

He just nodded at you.

“Well, I'll let you get to it then, but I expect to see you at 6 tonight ready to hang out, okay?”

“Wh-What?! Won't your friends notice that you’re gone?”

You just smiled, collecting your things. “Zuko, I do have a life outside of the Avatar, you know.”

Zuko’s face went bright red as you walked out of the room with a smirk on your face. It was actually kinda cute to see Zuko not being some evil kid with his heart set on hurting anyone.

“You’re leaving?” Sokka whined, watching you grab your bag.

“Yes Sokka,” you said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I'm leaving. I just want to go get dinner out by myself tonight. Maybe go for a nice walk.”

“Aww man,” Sokka pouted, crossing his arms. “Who’s gonna make dinner now?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping on your lips. “Sokka, I left some money on the table. You guys should go out and get something to eat tonight.”

“Why aren't you coming with us?” Sokka tilted his head, counting the money on the table.

“I just want to go out by myself tonight, that’s all.”

“So you’re just gonna have a lonely dinner all by yourself?” Sokka questioned, looking skeptical.

“Yes!”

“She’s lying.” Everyone turned to Toph and your face went bright red. You forgot she could tell if you were lying or not, and it definitely didn't help that you were outside on the concrete so Toph could really feel right through you.

Sokka turned back to you quickly. “You’re going to dinner with someone?”

“Fine, yes, I am, so what?”

“Who is it?”

You rolled your eyes, already late. “Just somebody.”

“Is it a boy?” Sokka gave you a mocking look and you pushed his face away.

“Fine, whatever! It's a boy! So what?! Now let me leave before I'm late. Have a nice dinner everyone.” You waved at the group and ran to the tea shop, hoping that Zuko didn't leave yet.

The bell rang as you opened the shop door. “Sorry, we’re not serving tea anymore, we’re closing at the moment,” a familiar voice said. Iroh peeked his head out, surprised to see you. “y/n?”

You smiled, “hi Iroh.”

“How are you?” Iroh set down the broom he was holding and pulled you into a soft embrace. You never told the others, but you spent quite a bit of time talking to Zuko’s uncle when you got the chance. He was a wise man and kind as well. Maybe that's why you understood Zuko so well, you had someone to give you some insight on the boy.

“I'm good, Iroh. How are you?”

“Oh I'm fine,” he beamed at you, pulling away from the hug. “I'm getting to live my lifelong dream of making tea for the people of Ba Sing Se, so that feels pretty nice.”

“Well, you are the best at making tea, Iroh.”

“Oh, stop. You’re so full of flattery, y/n.” Iroh blushed with a smile. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Is your nephew here?”

“You’re looking for Zuko?” Iroh cocked an eyebrow at you and you chuckled, surprised that you were even here.

“I am.”

Iroh gave you a skeptical look, but honestly didn't care much. He thought it was nice that someone wanted to visit Zuko. “He is here. Let me go grab him. Would you like some tea in the meantime?”

“Tea sounds great,” you admitted, sitting at a table.

As you got comfortable, Zuko ran into the room, completely surprised. “You’re here?”

You laughed. “Of course I am! I said I’d be here at 6 didn't I?”

“I thought you were bluffing.”

“Well now you know I'm serious. Wanna hang out?”

Zuko gave you a side eye and thought for a moment. “I think I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what might that be?” Iroh entered the room, placing two teacups and a kettle on your table. You thanked Iroh as he left with a smile.

“You’re trying to get info out of me. About the Fire Nation… aren't you?”

You shook your head. “You’re so defensive all the time, Zuko.”

“Can you blame me?” Zuko shut all of the blinds in the shop and sat across from you, taking a sip of tea.

“I guess not.”

“I'm surprised you’re not a little more on edge.”

“Why’s that?” You took a sip of tea as well, humming at how delightful it tasted.

“I'm a firebender. You don't bend right? I could literally take you down at any moment. And it doesn't seem like you have any weapons either.”

“I trust that you won't do anything. Your uncle would probably be pissed about the mess to be honest.”

For the first time in all of your time knowing Zuko, you heard him laugh. He laughed so hard that he snorted a bit, which made him laugh harder. Because of all of his laughter, he made you laugh too, sending you both into a laughing fit. It felt good. You haven't laughed this hard since you first met Sokka, all covered in Appa’s snot.

Zuko literally had tears in his eyes by the time he stopped laughing. Seeing him happy made you feel… good. Really good. It was almost a relief. It made Zuko more human. You didn't know if you could even remotely call him your enemy anymore.

You two ended up talking all night, Iroh occasionally bringing more tea or just little treats every now and then. You literally couldn't stop talking to Zuko. To hear about what it was like to grow up in the Fire Nation as a prince was interesting. To hear what Ozai was really like in person sent chills down your spine. To hear where that scar on his face came from almost brought you to tears. Zuko didn't even know why he told you all of this, but he could say one thing. It felt nice. It felt this giant weight on his chest had been lifted.

After a few hours, you looked at the clock in the shop and frowned. “Bad news, Zuko. I gotta go.”

“Already?” He turned to face the clock and pouted his bottom lip. “Alright then.”

You stood up and collected your things. “Thanks for the tea, Iroh!” You shouted, which was responded with a big smile and a thumbs up from Iroh.

“Thanks for stopping by.”

“Anytime,” you said, opening the door of the shop. “I'll be back.”

“You will?” You turned to Zuko, who almost looked excited that you said that.

“Of course I will. Goodnight guys.”

“Wait,” Zuko ran up to you, holding the door open. “Let me walk you home, it’s late.”

“Zuko, I don't know if that’s a good idea.”

Zuko frowned, but you were probably right. If Aang spotted him for even a second, both of you would be done for. “R-Right. Well… thanks.”

“For what?”

“Hanging out. That was fun.”

You smiled. “That was fun. Thank you for not killing me, Zuko.”

“Anytime.” He giggled, immediately taken aback when you pulled him in for a hug after dropping everything.

He was so… warm. I mean, duh. He was a firebender. But even so, his hug felt so genuine, so nice, and you didn't want to leave. “Goodnight, Zuko,” you said as you pulled away from the hug.

“Goodnight, y/n.” This time, he shocked you by pulling you in for another hug and pulling away only to pull you in again, but this time, your lips were inches apart.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was in a whisper, his warm breath dusting over your lips.

You just nodded and closed your eyes as his soft lips brushed against yours. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck pulling him closer. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you pulled away from the kiss, both of you said a quick goodbye, your cheeks dusted pink.

Zuko quickly walked back into the tea shop to help Iroh close and put his back on the door.

“I'm glad you found a nice girl, Zuko.” Zuko jumped hearing his uncle’s voice, his face turning a dark shade of crimson.

Though if he was being honest, he was glad he found a nice girl too.

~~~~~

atla masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

TAG LIST: @ede1faecam

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Yandere time and hyrule headcannons

I'm not sure if you've seen the hype around sky being in his undershirt and being ✨pretty✨ in the recent update, but could I please request reader fawning over Yan!sky in his undershirt or some general hc's for him?

Thank you both for requesting!

Notes: I wasn't that online on tumblr around that time, so I only saw it now lmao.

Anyway, I did both headcannons and a oneshot, hope you'll like it!

Also, yes, I merged those two requests since headcannons can be piled into the same post.

I'll probably sound redundant in a lot of these, simply because I didn't write this at one go and when I got to it again I may have forgotten that I wrote it before. My memory is not the best, forgive me.

There are more headcannons for Time because he's my favorite, sorry.

I need a master list, seriously.

Edited before sleeping, I'm sleepy and probably messed up one or two paragraphs of this.

The oneshot in question.

TWs: Yanderism, Mentions of food and bad eating habits and a little of my fairy/fae brain rot.

Don't mind grammatical errors, please!

Headcannons for yandere Sky, Time and Hyrule.

Yandere! Lu! Sky x Reader

For starters, Sky is sweet, but he is very manipulative.

Therefore, don't be surprised if you notice you stopped doing many of the things you used to do when you first got through the portal.

Most of the time it's not even bad things!

He might team up with Hyrule and Wild to take care of your main health, like eating habits. If you're a picky eater then expect Sky to slowly transition you into eating a little bit of everything, in no time you'll be eating like Wild does.

Then again, he'll also make sure to get the ingredients to the foods you do eat without struggling, also getting Wild to make a separate meal for you, should you not eat that one specific recipe Wild made for dinner.

You'll probably be getting help from him when it comes to self-care habits as well, like, the max of skin care and hair care you can get at Hyrule. He will make the effort to talk to people who know more about your skin and hair type, those who have it and take care of it well.

But, we can't ignore the genuinely bad things he will try to influence you into doing...

Privacy? Gone.

Not only will he be around you most if not all of the time, but he will also always be paying close attention to you and what you're doing.

So if you believed keeping a journal in your language would help you keep some things to yourself, then think again. The privacy of using your language instead of hyrulean to write in your jornal will soon turn into a mere illusion. Despite being more quiet and seemingly the less imposing of the Links, Sky has already gone, and will keep going through lengths for you, which includes learning the language you use.

Of course he noticed you kept a private journal, and despite you trying to lie about the contents of it, it's only a matter of time until he is skillfully scanning through the pages with his eyes like he's reading his favorite book. Memorizing any and all information he can find about you.

As manipulative as he is, he is also delusional, he doesn't have any idea of what he is doing, he simply doesn't know that what he is doing is wrong on so many levels.

He's not doing anything on purpose, he's just trying to protect you and get you to like him, like a normal guy!! At least, Zelda liked it when he did this with her back then, just how different are you two?

Genuinely, Sky would have a hard time figuring you and your emotions out. You're a human being after all, and he respects that those things are not supposed to be easy to figure out. In fact, he highly respects and appreciates that you're complex.

Not that he'll respect boundaries, nope, no way.

You're a puzzle he's very much looking forward to figuring out. Honestly, the only puzzle he'd ever want to figure out.

So, I'll probably elaborate this later, but the chain as Gods. Sky would be very much a Thor. That means silly blonde lightening man.

Imagine hylians from Sky's era used matching earrings alike engagement rings, like, Sky just randomly inviting you to an overly nice picnic, just to hand you blue earings just like his.

And if you don't have your ears pierced anywhere it'd be even better in his eyes, since he'd just adjust it to be a "normal" ring.

It was actually an engagement ring, but you didn't know that, or any of the other Links, really, since this tradicional custom got lost in time.

Yandere! Lu! Time x Reader

I think pretty much everyone knows Time is a teasing bastard.

Don't get me wrong, he can be pretty mature, but trust me, it's not really common for him to act like that.

Time is used to pretending, he used many different masks to become different races in his journey, that was needed from him at the time, the same way that being the mature one is being needed from him right now.

Just because he is deeply traumatized emotionally and physically from his job as a hero doesn't mean his personality is lost as well.

It didn't change that much since he was a child, not really.

He is addicted to making you flustered, so if you get flustered easily I'm sorry for you.

If making you blush is a challenge then I'm just as sorry for you, because Time isn't quite known for giving up easily.

And he's good at making people embarrassed, too.

The amount of women who were in love with him is everything I need as proof.

But the worst part? He doesn't have bad pick up lines.

Look, Time is a toucher, so yes, his love language is physical touch, that makes sense to me.

That doesn't mean only cuddling, of course, it can mean cuddling and hugging when you're alone, but do expect a few more things.

I was gonna say hand holding in public, especially in crowded places, but you know what? Guiding you by holding the back of your neck is simply easier to him, and a lot more obvious "back off!" to strangers who look at you for far too long.

Also, randomly leaning against you, the two of you may be just walking and suddenly you feel a large mass lightly leaning against your own body, almost making you stumble. you might just be standing in front of the dinner table, reading a recipe book and once again you just feel that familiar presence right behind you, but instead of hugging you from behind he's just there, like he is reading the book along with you.

Remember how you were reading that one recipe book? Well he might give it a try and help you make something in the kitchen just to spend time with you. Like, you're just pouring ingredients in a bowl and he's there "helping" you by wrapping his arm around your waist to give you "emotional support", as he calls it.

He is, in reality, just standing there watching you cook, trying his best to resist the urge to distract you and simply annoy you, because he is still trying to make it seem like he is a mature, grown man, and definitely not one who is eyeing the flour in his reach and thinking about launching a handful of it at you.

You did see his hand slowly reaching for the flour in the corner of your vision. He only stopped once you threatened to scoop out his remaining eye should even a speck of flour hit your face.

Yet, Time is a creative man, flour was only one of his plans.

He's got wandering hands and wandering lips. And he can and will make use of those just to distract you.

And that's how Time became banned from the kitchen when you were the one cooking, only being able to join you for cleaning later.

So yeah, his love language is physical touch, but it is also disturbance.

In that matter, he's not very different from Wind when you two are alone. If you ignore his flirtatious moves, that is. But he's quite different when you two are with the others, especially if you've done, or is doing something to annoy him, then he has to keep up that mature facade of his.

He believes the others won't take him seriously should he reveal his actual personality, so really, when you're around others you'll only get glimpses of it from time to time.

It is mandatory from the Links to be stubborn, but Time takes the cake.

Maybe it is his age, but he will never change his mind, ever. No point in arguing.

So when he is silly, he is silly, but when he is serious he is terrifying, no exaggeration.

The worst part is that older people have a lot of respect in Hyrule, so no matter what he says, his word is law.

Now, don't get me wrong, by now, pet names are just a thing Time always does with you, in a way you barely hear your own name coming from his lips unless he's being really serious about something.

But actual words of affirmation? Not his thing.

He'd much rather be as clingy as glue to you when you're alone.

But, not like Sky's soft, light cuddles. Time Will basically smother you.

Seriously, it may be his sheer muscle mass, but he'll drap himself over you in a way you'll feel yourself surrounded by him.

In fact, the first time he did it you probably almost suffocated.

You'll get used to it eventually, though. Hopefully.

He's pontual and very strict as well, he and Hyrule are probably gonna be bickering in most matters involving you, like, for example, "five more minutes" naps.

Don't even try to trick him, you'll hear stuff like "I was your age once" and shit, the man will act like he's a hundred years old or something.

Then again, he might be, after all, he is older in mind than he is in body.

He was forced to mature quicker and went through a lot of trauma, that, and he also had to go back in time a lot of times.

Now that I think about it, he probably lived for longer than your grandparents. Just saying.

Yandere! Lu! Hyrule x Reader

Don't get him wrong, Hyrule is very much full of love, really. He cares about everyone equally.

Yet, as corny as that is, your name isn't "everyone", you're not anyone, you're you, how could he even think about possibly treating you the same way as he treats everyone else?

You're put on a pedestal, everyone else is treated equally by him, except you, you are treated like you are divine and not mortal like he is.

So you'll feel like a toddler 24/7 around Hyrule, he is not as stubborn as Time, he's just… Persistent.

The other Links will find themselves teasing him for it a lot, even if deep inside they are just the same.

Play nice, walk on the line and you'll have a Hyrule at your beck and call. If you know how to do it right, you will be able to use his babying to your own benefit, because trust me, his persistence can work on the Links much more than yours, after all, they trust him for being another Link.

I feel like he'd also help you keep pets, it may be his fairy nature, but he is just good with animals, especially with forest animals. Be them small or big.

Although he definitely has a soft spot for smaller pets, even more if you're the one asking him to bring along a pet you found.

Surprisingly or not, Hyrule is probably one of the most protective Links if you happen to lean more towards the naive/vulnerable side of the spectrum.

It's a general fairy headcannon of mine, but since fairies take care of forest and the animals there, specially the smaller or more vulnerable types of animals, then it's not new for them to be also quite protective towards humans close to them.

Bonus points if they have those traits.

But then again, you're Hyrule's darling, you may be as strong and independent as a Link yourself, but he'll still see you as in need of his care and attention at all times.

That also may or may not be another reason why Hyrule treats you like a toddler.

So yeah, coddling. Lots of it.

Hyrule is also a fan of small things, trinkets. Natural or shiny... Precious or useless... In his eyes all are treasures.

Treasures you'll find your bags and pockets full of.

He is absolutely a rock, cristal guy.

Imagine, you're just walking to another village, and suddenly Hyrule stops walking for a few moments, just to speed walk towards you again just a bit later, cleaning something he is holding in his hands with the help of his sleeve.

Then he hands you a small, clear rock, grinning.

Better get used to this, it's probably gonna happen at least once every day.

So yeah, love language is gift giving and acts of service.

I feel like he's very awkward with words of affirmation, he didn't spend a lot of time saying or hearing those, after all. Like most of the Links.

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

YES YES YES I GO CRAZY ABOUT IT

there was a piece of analysis in the notes of a gen fic i read a while back where it basically said that (30s!)ford was fine putting their relationship on pause until ford was ready to reconcile or needed something from stan. there was never any consideration that stan wouldn’t “want to make it up to him” or even a passing thought that stan would reject him despite presumably never mentioning stan to fiddleford or anyone in the town he lived in, and not talking about him at all with family

anyways that piece of analysis still keeps me up at night.

God its actually so insane to think about. I was mostly joking in my post, but its pretty crazy how Ford is very much aware of Stan's loyalty to him and we've seen how far he's willing to stretch it for his own benefit without anything in return. Ford is so clearly aware of the fact Stan would literally do anything for him.

I think much of it boils down to his own belief that Stan is willing to do whatever it takes keep him around. I mean, didn't Stan ruin his future prospects at his dream school specifically so they can keep adventuring together? Why would Stan deny Ford anything at that point if he's willing to cost the family literal millions for his "selfish gains"? (and again, Ford is under the impression Stan destroyed the machine on purpose and is essentially trying to baby trap him with the Stan O War lmao)

He internalizes this, like some vault in his brain that assures him he would always have his brother, even when he doesn't want him at that moment. Or at least, believes he doesn't but he does, and that is even something he's very obviously ashamed of or else he wouldnt hide the literal decades worth of memorabilia of Stan from Fiddleford or would be writing his real feelings in secret code.

But back to the point: Ford has no qualms using this to his own benefit and he does it multiple times. He does it when begging Stan to come to Gravity Falls, he does it when he expects Stan to just shut up and take the book away even without sitting him down and explaining why these journals are so important and dangerous in the first place. It's something he even utilizes right after getting out of the portal, by telling Stan to shut down his thirty year long and successful business and leave after the summer is over and Stan agrees.

But it's worth noting too that that's the last time you will ever catch Stan doing a total favor for Ford without something in return. Stan at that point is done doing things for Ford without the proper reciprication and its not like you can blame him. He has to be convinced by Mabel to save Ford again and he puts his foot down on getting that thanks he was owed over fixing the portal even though there was a literal apocalypse happening. Make no mistake though, because until then, Ford wasn't under any delusion that Stan wouldnt do anything he asks because Stan pretty much proved he would. This is also why Ford was pretty comfortable asking Stan to join the circle because other than "Who the hell would deny holding hands to save the world?" there's also a "How could Stan ever say no to me?" Having to swallow his pride for even half a second and actually reciprocate literally 1/100 of the things Stan was willing to do for him was how we got "Grammar, Stanley" lmao

and this is my own headcanon, but i suppose that other than essentially killing Stanley by erasing his mind, I think that's also a moment where the vault opens in Ford's head and he realizes he won't always have his brother like he believes he does. The same brother who travelled halfway across the country for a brother who he hadn't contacted for 10 years. The same brother who was willing to keep him fed and sheltered under a roof that legally technically is more Stan's than it is Ford's and rescind his one condition of staying away from the kids to give Dipper his blessing of hanging out with Ford. That same brother is going to forget all about that, forget his loyalty and unconditional love towards Ford and Ford realizes he loses the one person who was always willing to fight for him, more than anyone else in the world. Its really really good shit man

[nevernonline]

✧.* grow as we go; svt smau.

entry #24 epilogue; until we meet again.

synopsis: over the past ten years you’ve fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it’s clear things would ever be the same again.

𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.

𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt

𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.

𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex’s, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

masterlist ▸ 023 signing off for now ▸

note: HI! its me <3 home for at least three weeks (lmao thank god) so sorry this took so long to upload I kept kind of changing it up slightly and at this point I feel comfortable enough to make this END (for now hehe) but pls enjoy. also hopefully my other north american carat bbg's got ur tickets, my friend and I got v lucky amen, we needed a WIN. but pls look forwards to pt 2 which ill prob.... start.. after pfd (right here!!) gets started more and things die down a little in my personal life lolol. but keep ur theory's going always. ily ily. (also some of ur tags may not work im so sorry ily)

taglist: @sun-daddy-yoriichi @hipsdofangirl@kissesfrmwonwoo@minhui896@wonwooz1@porridgesblog@jasssy051@soonyoungblr@saucegirlreads@musingsofananxiouspotato@young-adult-summer@punkhazardlaw@bibs-world@the-swageyama-tobiyolo@wonuulvr@woozixo@k-drama-adict@90s-belladonna@blaycke@dnylwoo@to-mi-yo, @nonononranghaee@bee-the-loser@mxnhoeuwu @ra1n7b33

[iguessigotta]

This one's for the gays and the goths [but mainly the two who replied to my earlier post ily]

Enki Ankarian x male reader, just some fluff and....idk building a bit of a background for Enki and reader? Tbh I just opened tumblr and started writing lmao

Thinking about Enki

While exploring the dungeons together, Enki, for reasons known only to him, found himself caring for you

'Not love' he'd tell himself

'I'm not capable of love' he'd repeat to himself, a mantra to drown out that part of him that worried about you

The part of him that lost precious moments of sleep, not wanting to drop his guard and leave you defenseless. Vulnerable. Alone.

He'd scoff at the passing thought that he'd be lonely without you.

Him. Enki Ankarian. Lonely

Embarrassing at best

A potential weakness, leading him into another horrific death at worst. A weakness that, he'd tell himself, he should have thrown out the day he met you

When you'd come running into the room, scrambling around bookshelves, papers scattering on the floor in your wake - obviously something was on your tail. He'd sat there a moment, frustration growing, before sighing and closing his book. He crossed the room in a few graceful strides, stopping at the doorway, preparing a fresh ward. Just in case.

After one lazy scan of the room, Enki had decided to ignore you, plopping himself back down in a chair and opening three books simultaneously

When you'd finally crept back out of the small maze of bookshelves at the back of the room, you'd done something that surprised him

You'd quietly looked around the room, grabbing a book and deciding on a chair about as far away from both himself and the door as you could. You didn't stare or - thank the gods - try to talk to him. Aside from a couple subtle glances at him as you sat down, you didn't acknowledge him (finally, some fuckin manners! lmao)

That must have been it, he'd think to himself. Those first quiet days spent reading and sketching in journals, never exchanging more than a subtle polite nod

He'd gotten used to you simply existing around him

So when you suddenly spoke to him as he was about to move on deeper in the dungeons in search of more knowledge - voice quiet and rough from disuse, asking begging to go with him - "I'm terrified. I won't make it more than a day or two on my own....." - he already knew his answer

Even before you pierced something in his chest with your half-whsipered "please"

Pausing in the doorway, Enki had rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh, looking as though he were contemplating killing you then and there

"Hurry up and get your things, then"

You'd immediately leapt to your feet, gathering your meager belongings and joining him by the door

He tried for days to get the image of your smile - bright, genuine - out of his head

[morningstarwrites]

I was sleeping and I guess I had a dream about OSAS. But uhh, this is how it went in the dream:

Lucifer: “Oh! Alastor, you got a little something on your cheek! Let me get it for you” Lucifer uses his thumb to wipe some dirt off of Alastors cheek

Alastor: “Oh, thank you dear” Alastor leans down and kisses Lucifer on the cheek

and then both of there eyes widen, realizing that everybody who lives in the hotel (+ Rosie) is right there.

They glance other, seeing everybody shocked/excited, (Cus of plan O.D.D., they got their plan working? But they had no idea they where already dating) Charlie had a GIANT smile on her face, Vaggie and Husk is lost in shock, Angel Dust is paused from writing something in his journal, shocked and proud. (DEFINITELY thinking “HOLY FUCK I WAS RIGHT” and is definitely going to give Husk the “I told you so look” later) And Rosie is big eyed and is smiling even bigger than Charlie.

That was my dream, so yeah. It was also in comic form in my dream?? But oh well

oh my god you're hilarious lMAO DREAMING ABOUT OSAS... I LOVE IT!

this is a rly cute scenario tho!!

[flufallo]

Some random, out of context lines from only the best show in the world

"YOU are the brawn?"

"If she'd died last night, I'd have no problem with her being here!" "Well that got dark"

"We've met phychics before, but none as fit as you" "HAH. Did that work on girls back in the 80s?"

"Are you ready to talk to her shoes?"

"And those girls are staring..." "Mabye it's your outfit" *middle finger*

"I don't care how old you are. Go to bed"

"Well, I'm very open minded and also very concerned about bursting open" "honestly I just find her so charming"

"Are you insane?"

"so I'm a... Tree?"

"Cute? Thats offensive"

"It smells like dog shit in there"

"I'll make sure to jot that down in my journal of opinions I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT"

"Luckily, love requires no logic"

"MONTY! JESUS! I'm tryna... Threaten some kids"

"Are you ready to talk to her shoes?"

"Fuck off, the kid had a sardine"

"E-yup"

"she's always... Changing outfits"

"Are you being threatening or is this a sexy choking?"

"weeee!"

"In my experience, uptight boys like a bit of rough play" "... Right" (my poor innocent Edwin has no idea what that means)

"Hello, um, cute little friend with the bow tie"

"Teethface, what the fuck?"

"I'm just a really old man who lives in a fish"

"Specificity is key"

*Girls react sword death* "was that good? Were you scared?" "Pff, no. The sword would of punctured the lung, leaving her *gasping noises* unable to scream. Not to mention the sheer amount of blood filling her mouth. Very disappointing girls"

"You guys are like a dead married couple on acid"

"Is that my left or your left?" "We have the same left!"

"No, it is the blue book on the top left corner" *picks up pink book* "does that look blue to you, Charles?"(Colour blind Charles yaas)

"Well, that's harsh. But also charmingly stubborn. Capricorn?"

"Were not living anywhere, because your not living"

"This detective work is much measure than it ever looked on scooby doo"

"Two boys can like like each other, you know. I have a lot of manga about it. It's very sweet, and explicit"

"Again, a handshake would suffice"

"Yes, your highness"

"What is a hand job?"

"Well have to investigate further into this Molly character"

"At least one of you is in school, right?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with that one... Monty... You... A lot of time?" "Hmm? Merely swapping books is all"

"Oh my fucking fuck"

"I thought you were like a meat robber or a meat pervert or something"

"If you need anything, just shout. But don't actually shout. It's a library"

"Are you always a woman, is Charles ever a woman, can you change your eyes and nose like Mr potato head, do you know who mr potato head is?"

"Your such a whore"

"You don't look like a walrus"

"this looks like the places in those fish stick commercials I like"

"Charles, be less British. Edwin, be less Edwin"

"oh no, it's porn. It's all just porn"

"there are 142 cats" "142? That's way off!" (It's four off)

"and when he gets back from hell, I'll be waiting. God, I am such a romantic I hate it!"

"do you and Charles.. um... Have a special friendship?" "We are best friends, if you must know." (Keep him innocent guys)

"have you seen a Victrola anywhere?" "What?"

"oh, I think I'm gonna be sick!" "You are a ghost, Charles. You cannot get sick"

"well, maybe karma's just a bitch"

"I heard they died in some gay suicide pact"

"I have never wanted to get back inside someone more" (out of context this one just sounds so wrong lmao)

"are you saying my ghost friend isn't going to die? Super, thanks."

[skarlitt]

Hi! I wanted to ask how you figured everything out at the age of 19? I am a bit older yet feel so lost like I’m missing something, how did you figure out Hellenism is right for you? Thank you! Much love :)

Aw this is so sweet omg 🥹 well, if I'm honest, I still feel pretty lost myself half the time haha!

I think firstly, I'm inclined to look for signs/patterns from the gods and hidden meanings in everything. It's a natural habit of mine I guess lmao. Through my constant sign-seeking, I found myself being drawn to Dionysus more and more, and eventually I was finding his symbolism EVERYWHERE. I just had the feeling it was time to reach out to him, and though at this time I didn't know how to conduct a proper offering to a god, I decided it was better to try my best with what little knowledge I had of Hellenism, than to keep ignoring my gut feeling and the signs I was receiving. So I just lit a purple candle I had, made a libation of cheap merlot, and said 'hey, I hear your call Dionysus. I'm grateful for the signs you've given me. You're welcome in this space, if you'd like to be here'. Nothing super ritualistic, I just wanted to be kind. and I still have no clue *why* this pantheon of gods called to me honestly, this has all been super recent. I always knew the Greek myths, but I never had such a thirst for knowledge of these gods till I met Dionysus. But, in short, Hellenism was right for me because it just came into my life lol. I'm not complaining! This is the happiest I've been in a few years. I'm seeing things shift and synchronicities are happening before my eyes in a way that I've never experienced before in my spiritual journey.

Really, I'm just listening all the time. Paying attention to coincidences. And always searching for gnosis! Noticing how certain myths and dreams make me feel, keeping a dream journal, and jotting down little symbols I notice every day on my notes app have been super helpful.

I really don't believe there's a wrong way to do it. If you feel you're missing something, you should search for what it is. I used to spend a lot of time trying to be perfect at the Whole Spirituality Thing- memorizing tarot cards, spending a ton on things I didn't know how to use, etc... and it didn't help me. I think, it's useful to figure out what it is YOU want out of your practice, and stick to your own needs, because that will make a blueprint of what you prioritize and search for on your journey. Or, if you're in similar shoes as me, sometimes you have to sit back and let the practice speak for itself (lmao)! You don't have to have an answer or belief for everything. It's okay if your answer to some of your own questions is 'I don't know yet.' To me, the unknown is what it's all about. I'm just trying to better understand my own gifts cuz I want to serve my purpose to the fullest :)

Thank you for this question, I hope this helps! Sorry it's so long though!

[linesandlattes]

this is a long due intro post <3

— art hoon mei

— she/her, 18, journalism major, thank god I'm desi.

—sanatani/my love for ram knows no bounds.

—my daily musings and midnight scribbles are sponsored by an unhealthy amount of caffeine.

— I am on this app because I know for a fact that my IRLs aren't lmao. 

—just know, whenever I start reading 7 novels per week my exams are prolly near but who tf cares.  

—deep conversations are totally my thing be it early in the morning or midnight, I AM ALWAYS UP!

—I think I might be a maladaptive daydreamer because I'd rather do that than face reality + I have around eighteen defense mechanisms but it's all chill haha!

—I'm currently obsessed with songs by the band ‘when chai met toast’ and the song 'yellow' by coldplay.

— female friendships for the win.

— I'm sure I'm missing facts but you’ll eventually know cuz it is going to come up in one of my rants on a daily basis!

— if you text/call me at 11:11 I'll prolly think the universe is sending me a sign ( dheere dheere samajh aa rha hai sab moh maya hai )

—still a hopeful romantic till the end.

— I'm the kind of girl who writes intro posts this long after wanting to 'rEmaiN MyStEriOuS'

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

tentacle dick ford is so delicious…think he could work in his lab, writing in his journal for hours while stan’s under his desk keeping him warm and satisfied. im going to explode into confetti. You wrote him SO in character it was so hot. thank you for sharing it is wonderful

THIS IS SO FUNNY especially since i like to make the tentacle act on its own accord so i'm just imagining Ford and Stan arguing about it like

ford: come on stanley, you don't even need to do any work

stan: my knees are doing the god damn work im not staying under your desk to blow your weird dick for 5 whole hours

and then ford pulls the oh noo im gonna cannibalize myself any minute now card and stan is like god damn it dhbdydhdud thank you for enjoying my fic!! hope i finish part 2 sometime soon lmao

[wastemanjohn]

You KNEW my prompt was gonna include pregnancy lmao but I’m gonna say samdean accidental pregnancy — your choice if Dean or Deanna, your choice which season but I wanna see Dean(na) confessing to Sam that s/he’s knocked up!

here you go mate <3 (sorry for sneaking my deanna and david bowie headcanon in here but i had reason to believe you wouldn't mind xD - and exploring this pushed me nicely out of my comfort zone so thank you for the prompt!)

The skies over the salvage yard are pink with shepherd's delight clouds.  The evening breeze has a little bite, and the air smells like rotting oil and dead leaves. The latter scent is one Sam associates with shoplifting school supplies, with the good coffee shops opening up on campus again. It's an awkward nostalgia, but it comes to him anyway as he buttons up his shirt for warmth and makes a start on staking out the boulevard of broken cars, armed with two bottles of El Sol and a mental note of all the phrases he's learned not to say. Deanna's gotta be out here somewhere.

The thing is, Sam thinks as he passes the nearly restored Impala, it had seemed like his sister was doing a little better. She's still sharp tongued and irritable, but she's not been spending 12 hours a day doing god knows what under that hood. She's been hanging out with Sam and Bobby more in the evenings, not really saying much, but sometimes she smiles with her whole face at something someone says, and Sam's always a little surprised at the force of his relief. She's even been talking a bit about getting out on the road again, even if she never directly mentions Dad; but Sam's caught her quietly leafing through his journal now and then lately. Not that he's said anything about it, because that's just asking for trouble; and anyway, regardless of any improvement, Sam still has no idea what's going on in Deanna's head, really. She feels very far away.

She went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, coming all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of him, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.

Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.

It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it.

As Sam goes deeper into the yard, he can hear music. Tinny, faint; but Sam recognizes David Bowie. He spent enough time being subjected to every single tape the guy ever made, even the really out there ones, over and over again as a kid to know that voice anywhere. That had been one of Deanna's more intense phases. Sam thinks she finds him comforting now, maybe; familiar, well worn, like an old blanket. She'd deny that, of course, the way she always denies shit that she thinks sounds girly, or maybe just vulnerable - but it hadn't been lost on Sam over the past year, how Deanna would play those tapes during nearly every overnight drive they took. Her hands always a little too tight on the steering wheel, Dad's unknown whereabouts breathing down the backs of their neck like a spirit.

Sam follows that bustling piano, ch-ch-changes, until he finds his sister. She's sitting on the floor, leaning against the dented door of an eighties truck with a mangled hood. The windows are down. The music is coming from inside.

Dad's jacket is so big over Deanna's shoulders. It practically drowns her, looks kind of ridiculous, if Sam were to be mean about it; still smells like Dad's cigarettes. Deanna doesn't look up, when Sam approaches, but she doesn't hide her face or snipe at him to fuck off either. Which means this is already going well.

"Hey." Sam says it cautiously. "What are you doing out here?" 

Her eyes roll up at him. "Making bacon and eggs, jackass. What's it look like I'm doing?"

Sam doesn't know, actually. Still, he takes the sarcasm on the chin. He holds one of the beer bottles out to Deanna; she glances at it, then shakes her head.

It surprises Sam, but he doesn't push. "You look like crap," he offers.

Deanna snorts. "Well. Don't you know how to make a girl feel special."

There's no bite in it. That tells Sam they're okay. She does, though; look like crap, that is. Tired; washed out. She's been sleeping in the day a lot. Bobby says it's the grief, that she needs it. Sam could believe that. He wonders, though, if Bobby's heard Deanna throwing up in the night lately. Not just one of her tactical upchucks to stave off a hangover, because she's not been drinking all that much lately; but these real hacking puke sessions that jolt Sam out of sleep in the early hours of the morning. She never comes back to her bed afterwards. And Sam has his suspicions about that too, like with the left behind phone; it's Deanna's way of not giving him a chance to pry. She knows how thin the wall between the bathroom and the spare bedroom is.

"Can I sit?" Sam asks.

Deanna shrugs. It's as good as permission.

Sam lowers himself down beside her, gets comfy on the rough gravel. He puts down the beers; doesn't feel much like drinking by himself.

They sit in silence for a while. Puts Sam on edge; but it's hard to know what to say to Deanna most of the time these days, which isn't a position he's ever been in before. Then again, they've never been in the position of losing their father before, so there's that. It still doesn't feel real. It probably never will.

"Keys were still in the ignition," Deanna says, nodding up towards the truck. "Tapedeck works. Engine's salvageable. Bobby's way too quick to junk these babies. Upsets me."

Sam smiles. "Dare you to say that to his face."

"Hey, maybe I will. If he gave me half a day with this death trap I'd get her purring again. Turn her into a whole new woman."

She folds her arms, tilts her head back against that dented door. Her eyes are kinda pink and bleary.

"You should see the tapes in the glove compartment," she adds. "'S a fucking goldmine.

"Is this Hunky Dory?" Sam asks.

Deanna raises an eyebrow. "Wow. And there I was thinking you weren't paying attention all this time."

"You didn't exactly give me a choice. You only played this album every day for like ten years."

Deanna grins. "I'm proud of you, Sammy. I knew you'd learn to love it eventually."

"Love is a strong word," Sam replies.

Deanna snorts again. Something like affection passes over her face. Sam hasn't seen that in a while.

"I lost this album years ago," Deanna says. "Think it ended up with Dad, maybe. You know how our stuff used to always get mixed up." 

Sam's a little stunned. And maybe it shows, because Deanna narrows her eyes at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He swallows - "Just that you, uh, mentioned Dad."

"Yeah. So?"

It's quick, defensive enough for Sam to know to shut up. He's getting good at that kind of thing. 

Deanna's scowl fades; she grins, lightly punches his thigh. "You creep. Quit staring at me."

Sam didn't realize he was. But if they were a different kind of people, maybe Sam would tell Deanna how pretty she looks under the dying sunlight, under those pink, glowy clouds; but he wouldn't really know how to put something like that, and Deanna would never let him live it down if he said it aloud anyway. So he keeps it to himself. Instead, he watches Deanna pull at a spooling thread from her shirt sleeve peeking out from beneath Dad's jacket.

"You know," Deanna says, "being out here always reminds me of us being kids. Bobby letting us play in the yard until the sun went down. Bringing us lemonade. Do you remember?"

Sam smiles. "Yeah, Dee. Of course I remember."

Deanna carries on like she wasn't expecting an actual response. "We'd never had homemade lemonade. Remember how I used to try to make it for you when we got back on the road? Mine always kinda sucked, though."

Sam feels a little on edge, hyper aware of everything his body is doing, like he's trying not to spook a wild gazelle. This is the most Deanna has spoken in weeks. "You tried," he offers, because she did, Deanna always tried so hard with stuff like that. He hasn't thought about Deanna's crappy lemonade in years. With Bowie warbling about life on mars on the stereo, and the memory of Deanna's sticky too-bitter attempt alive on his tongue, it feels like it's 1992 again.

Deanna keeps pulling at that thread. "You know, back when I used to watch you - I was, I dunno, maybe ten or eleven. And you were so - you were so damn innocent, you know? Just really cute, I guess."

"Cute?" Sam echoes.

"Yeah." There's this tight, half-smile on her mouth that Sam can't quite read. "You were so curious about shit all the time. Always wanting me to tell you stories. Always getting yourself scraped and bruised because you couldn't stop fucking climbing stuff." 

Sam isn't sure what to say. There's something about remembering himself as a child that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe it's the idea of being so small and so helpless; or maybe it's the memory of that hard-to-place unease that lived inside of him like blood from the moment he was fully sentient, that gut-deep sense that something about his life - his family, his barely present Daddy - just wasn't right.

"You were a pain in the ass," Deanna continues, with this fond chuckle. "Asking me questions all the time. Wanting to know how every little thing in the world worked. If I didn't know the answers, I'd just make 'em up. You believed everything I said." She clicks her tongue. "Man, do I miss that."

Why are we talking about this? Sam nearly asks. But that runs the risk that Deanna will snap shut like an oyster, and Sam will never get the answer at all. So he keeps his mouth closed. He lets Deanna carry on.

"Sammy, I used to -" She trails off, looking weirdly sheepish. "This is so so fucking weird, but like - when I was watching you, I used to wish you were actually my kid. And you - you kinda were, you know? Felt like you were mine... mine just as much as you were Dad's."

Dad, again. Sounds so unfamiliar in Deanna's voice now that it takes Sam a moment to process the revelation that came before it. "You did? Seriously?" is all he manages.

"Yeah." She's looking at her lap. Still that tight half-smile. "Seriously."

And Sam struggles to know what to do with that, what it means. Because it's hard, lately, for Sam to be angry with his father about much; makes him feel almost empty, actually, after a lifetime of nursing this near-addictive resentment over things he never fully understood. And of those things, Deanna - getting her stuff mixed up with Dad's, being so intertwined with him, resembling her martyred mother so much Dad could never stop commenting on it - Deanna seeing Sam as her own, apparently - well, he doesn't know. Sometimes Deanna just says shit. He probably isn't meant to read into it.

And besides, Sam doesn't know anything for sure. Always felt like he never really wanted to. And as he's already made his choice to love his father, he needs to keep it that way.

Deanna shuts her eyes, then. They're puffy under her lashlines, kissed with gray. "I mean," she says, "Don't get me wrong. You annoyed the crap outta me sometimes." She shrugs, hard, like a defence to an attack Sam hasn't made. "I - I do know that, Sammy. I know there was times I coulda been nicer to you." She looks a little pained.

"We were just kids Dee," Sam offers. "Not like either of us were exactly saints." 

"I keep remembering," Deanna continues, in that way, like Sam hadn't spoken again, "There was this time Dad kind of - got caught up in something. Still don't know what. But he wasn't home when he said he'd be. We were running out of everything. Food, money. No one was answering the phone. And you - you were driving me insane, Sammy."

Deanna says the last part a little too quietly; her head bows, hair covering her face. And Sam thinks he knows where this is going. He's getting a little uneasy.

"You just - you kept on and on with your damn questions. 'Where's Dad? What does he do while he's away? When's he coming back?' Then you - you asked about Mom."

"Deanna-"

She shakes her head, cutting him off. Something bitter on her lips, not quite a smile. "Who punches a five year old in the face, Sammy? I can't believe I -"

"You were only nine, Dee." Sam reminds her, when she doesn't finish the sentence. "You didn't know any better."

And it's true; Dad made sure of that, with his shoot first, ask questions later manifesto. But Deanna would never see it that way. She just laughs, colorless, bitter. "Yeah. I did. I shoulda, at least. I just -" She huffs. "Sometimes it feels like I just - I couldn't stop screwing up."

"You were doing it all by yourself." As the words leave his mouth, Sam registers how they sound. Like something you'd say about a single mom, some divorced thirty something with three kids, working two jobs to keep everyone fed and clothed. Not a nine year old.

"I guess -" Deanna sucks in a breath. "I just think about that a lot. That's all."

There's this dread growing inside of Sam as he watches Deanna's mouth twist up; she blinks, angrily. "Are you - crying?"

"Shut up," she mumbles.

She turns her face away a little. Draws her knees up to her chest. And it's strange and unsettling for Sam to see, like a horse walking on its hind legs or something; because Deanna doesn't cry, crying is for girls, and anatomy aside, she doesn't much like being seen as one of those. Even before Dad's pyre she stood, solemn and silent, breathing slow, composed. A hell of a lot more composed than Sam was, anyway.

"What's going on, Dee?"

She shrugs. That's very different to I'm fine.

And if things had been in any way close to normal over the last couple of months, Sam might touch Deanna's hand right about now. Lace their fingers; cup her face. Kiss her, maybe, the way she hasn't let him kiss her in a long time. Not since - well - not since the night they let Dad go. Sam can still remember the heat from the fire on his face, the way Deanna's hair felt grainy with ash; how her lips had tasted earthy and swollen, how she felt so small and fragile in his arms, more than she ever had. Still his big sister. Still the person he wants when he's scared and spiralling and doesn't know what to do but grab onto her, and hold on and on and on.

Deanna sniffs, loudly. "I just - I had so much on my shoulders, you know? Dealin' with you... dealin' with Dad..."

Her voice cracks a little. Sam says, "It was - it was a lot. I know." 

A lot. So much summed up in those two words, but it's not like Sam's had a lot of practise in talking about this.

Deanna laughs down at her folded knees, all thick. "You don't know, Sammy. You don't know at all. And I'm - I'm really glad you don't."

Sam isn't sure what to say to that. Partly because he can't gauge Deanna's tone, and partly because that feels like one of the most honest things Deanna's ever said to him. And now he's really worried.

"I just - I always wished I had another chance, you know? A chance to do over all those screw ups I made."

Tentatively, Sam reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder. It tenses a little beneath his fingers; but she doesn't pull away. That's good.

"I don't know where all this is coming from, Dee," Sam admits.

There's a pause, and Deanna seems to blink for a little too long. "It's - Sammy, I just keep on thinking. Dad's - Dad's gone." 

It's the first time she's actually said it. Sam swallows; throat feels a little thick. "Yeah. I know."

"And I was just getting - you get used to things being one way, you know?" She runs a hand through her hair, shiny with grease like oil slicks. "It's always like that. You start getting used to things, and then - then some other shit happens. And suddenly things are a whole new way. Before you can even fucking -"

"What do you mean?"

"Sammy, I knew something was wrong. I - I think I knew all along. But - today..."

Sam does everything in his power to keep his growing anxiety out of his voice. "Where did you go today, Deanna?" 

Her lips press together. She's still looking at her lap.

That dread expands, curdles, in Sam's gut. "Tell me."

Her hands are shaking against her thighs. "I - I went to the doctor."

That's absolutely the last thing Sam expected. "Since when do you go to the doctor?"

"I kinda had to."

Sam watches the little quiver of her fingers; and with that, he thinks back to the puking, the tiredness, how not right his sister looks. He thinks about Jess, how they were talking about what color to paint the living room 24 hours before she went up in flames on the ceiling. He thinks about Dad calmly sending him off for coffee before he…

Things are one way. Then suddenly they're another. Before you can blink, before you even remember your own name.

"Are you - are you sick?" Sam tries to keep his voice even.

Deanna isn't looking at him. "Kinda."

Sam thinks about Deanna hooked up to wires and machines. The miracle; how miracles don't happen. He's been harboring a little fear that there has to still be something wrong. A lacerated organ. A foreign object. Something they must have missed. But he thought - hoped - it was just that - a fear.

Sam sucks in a breath. "Okay. So - so what..."

Deanna smiles grimly. "Turns out I've got a parasite."

He watches Deanna shift. Her hand move towards one of the pockets of Dad's jacket. She keeps her eyes on her lap as she passes a small slip of paper to Sam. Small, rectangular. He takes it.

It's a moment or so before he realizes what he's seeing. Kind of like a photograph; a fuzzy sepia. Odd shapes that slowly begin to make sense.

"Ten weeks," Deanna says, her voice a little hoarse with disbelief. "I'm - I'm ten fucking weeks pregnant, Sammy."

Sam stares numbly at that ultrasound still. At the shapes, like two beans stacked on top of each other. Faint, fuzzy lines. Tiny arms. Tiny legs. He stares at them until they blur.

Ten weeks. Ten weeks since -

"So it's - " Sam can't finish the sentence.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's yours."

Her voice sounds very far away. And Sam can smell ash and fumes, traces of hospital grade body wash on Deanna's skin, skin that was bruised all over from cannulae and wires; and Sam couldn't catch his breath because Dad was gone, the last of him was just yards away on that burnt out pyre, gone; and Deanna's hands were on his face, tangled up in his hair, forehead pressed against his, and she was straddling his lap in the Impala's backseat, her eyes shut, muttering ssh, ssh over and over, maybe to Sam, or maybe to herself, but she kept saying it, even through the long kisses she kept pressing to his mouth; and Sam remembers he could barely see, he felt like he was choking on that ashy air, but he had Deanna, and he needed Deanna, he'd never needed her so much in his entire life. And Deanna understood, the way she's always understood things like that; and Deanna had kept on with her kissing and ssh-ing as she moved on top of him, fast, desperate, and Sam had clung onto her waist and met each roll of her hips, fast, anguished, because he couldn't get close enough, deep enough; and Deanna had been making these pitchy, breathless sounds like she was in pain, but she didn't stop Sam, and the whole time her eyes were wide and fixed on his face; and Sam remembers tangling her hair around his fingers like rope, he remembers arching up against her as he came, his body going through the motions, his senses numb to it. That numbness hasn't really left him since.

"Sammy, say something."

Deanna's voice, strained, cuts through the memory. Hauls Sam back to the present; Bowie, rotten oil, dead leaves. That autumnal breeze. His sister's face, tight and worried. Sam recognizes that pallor a little more now: shock.

It's passing through Sam as well. Of all the things he expected - this was nowhere on the list. Nowhere close.

"Alright," he manages eventually. Amazed at how calm he sounds. "What do you wanna do?" Because that's the thing to ask, right?

Deanna's lips twist again. "I mean - like, right away, I thought about just - you know - going off and taking care of it. Not even telling you. Just - "

"You wouldn't have told me?"

"I said I thought about it, Sam." She clicks her tongue; another rough wipe of her eyes. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

Sam keeps staring. Staring, at that image. That tiny, tiny baby. 

"Is that what you want?" he manages, eventually. Hoarse as Deanna. "To - take care of it?"

Deanna's pause seems to roll around the length of the yard. Then, her eyes stray to her lap again. "You know, Dad used to lecture me about this shit. Made it very clear how disappointed he'd be if I ever accidentally got myself knocked up."

Sam says, "Really?"

"Yeah. All the time." There's something acidic in Deanna's voice. "And you know why he harped on about it so much?"

"Why?"

"Because he said it wouldn't be fair to bring a kid into all this. Into the life." Deanna laughs, this flat, one-note thing. Something sharp flashes through her eyes; something gone too quick for Sam to fully identify. "Can you believe he said that to me? After everything he..."

She stops. And Sam watches Deanna's face reset, as if she hadn't expressed something like anger towards Dad for the first time ever. Something like what Sam has been saying, feeling, thinking, ever since he was old enough to understand. Everything Deanna always denied.

"It wouldn't have to be the same." It comes out of Sam's mouth before he can catch up with it. "You know. The same as we had it."

Deanna keeps on looking at her lap.

"You -" Sam takes a breath. "You know that, right?"

Deanna sighs. More like the breath whipping out of her body. "I'm not gonna stop looking for the demon, Sammy."

She says it like she expected Sam to insist on it. He clarifies: "I'm not saying we do. I'm saying we make it work."

He has no idea how. No fucking idea. His brain hasn't quite absorbed what's in front of him yet, the news undigested; but he's certain, somehow, of that.

Deanna gives that odd laugh again. Sam isn't sure what it means, this time. "It's also..." She picks at that thread on her shirt again. "I mean, the doctor said it looked healthy. But what if it comes out and it's like, a cyclops or something?"

"Why would it be -"

Deanna's shoulders rise. "You've seen Deliverance, right?"

Oh.

Sam swallows. His eyes stray back to the picture. Not that he can see much; not that there's much to see. But there's enough there for Sam to think it looks absolutely perfect.

"There are risks," is all he can think to say. "But it's - you know. It's not completely inevitable."

Deanna narrows her eyes. "You've already looked this stuff up, haven't you?"

She says it in this accusatory way. Sam runs his thumb delicately across the grainy image. "There was always a chance this could happen, Dee."

Always a chance. They've never done much to mitigate it, really. There's not enough space in Sam's brain right now, to wonder why that is.

Deanna skips over it too. Runs a hand through that greasy hair. Her lips twist.

"I just think," she says, after a while, "even if it comes out with three heads, playing a fucking banjo... would I care? You know?"

She's still not quite meeting Sam's eyes. Sam prompts, "Would you?"

"I mean. It's not like it'd be the only freak in this family, right?" A smile spreads across her mouth. "Sammy, you know I wouldn't care. I'd -I'd love it no matter what."

"Me too." It comes out thick; Sam's never been more sure of anything in his life.

He hands Deanna back the picture; takes her hand, deceptively delicate and cold in his, as he watches her eyes fog up with tears again. She doesn't hide this time; leans in to press her forehead against Sam's, just like that night ten weeks ago, just like they've come full circle. And fuck, it feels like forever since Sam's been touched like this, touched by anyone; he's just wondering if leaning in for a kiss would be pushing it, when he feels Deanna's plump, dried out lips brushing his. They feel a little sticky, and there's this malodor to her breath, but Sam barely registers it. It's like coming home.

I missed you, he doesn't say; can't, when Deanna's mouth would smother it anyway. When Deanna would only screw her face up and call him a big girl, and he'd rattle with guilt about feeling a little humiliated by that, but he'd feel it anyway.

Deanna pulls away first. She's a little flushed, and Sam can faintly see the capillaries in her face, like pink lines on a map under her skin; she squeezes his hand, laces their fingers. Moves them together until Sam's palm is flat against her stomach, the warmth of her body underneath that worn flannel.

"I keep thinking I can feel it," she whispers. "Now I know it's there."

Sam watches their interlaced hands dumbly. Overwhelmed. He can too.

"I kinda hope it's a girl." Deanna's voice has that hoarse quality again. "So I can - so she can have a Mom. So she can have what I didn't have."

She says it at the exact moment Sam finds himself hoping it's a boy. His reasons are similar. But for someone who doesn't like to talk, Deanna's always been way better at articulating stuff like that.

"You'll be a great Mom, Dee," he says, firmly. You were to me.

"Alright. You don't need to kiss my ass." Deanna ruffles his hair, like she did when she kissed him goodnight as a kid.

It takes Sam a moment to find his voice again. "I mean it, Dee. We'll make it work." He says it with this conviction that rises up from somewhere deep. "And I'm gonna be here for you, alright? Every step of the way."

Deanna groans. "Jesus Christ. I knew you'd be like this."

But she's smiling. And Sam allows himself to as well.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

“You know Dad would kill us, right? But man, do I wish he was here right now.”

She says it with a laugh in her voice, her face all twisted up; and Sam can't help but remember how he and Jess had talked about kids, vaguely, sometimes, kind of like a concept, a distant dream. How Sam had thought to himself about Dad a lot then, too, the way he never really stopped thinking about Dad and Deanna. He remembers wondering to himself whether Dad would be proud. Whether he'd even want a grandkid; if he'd want to know at all. Back then, Sam genuinely toyed with the idea that Dad wouldn't even care. Never come back, Sam.

It's not the same, now. Holy fuck, this is not the same, and it can probably only be a good thing that Dad's not here to know about this; so Sam pushes away the thought. He puts his arms around Deanna's waist and pulls her as close as he dares.

"It'll be okay," he says again, because he can't think of anything else. Because it has to be.

Deanna's looking at him kinda intently. "Sam, do you think this is Dad's way of like - you know - coming back?"

"Uh - what?"

Deanna shrugs. "Dunno. Just - hormones talking, I guess." She squeezes Sam's hand against her stomach. "Forget I said anything."

Sam's not sure he can. They don't say anything after that.

[verdemoun]

"being a 2010's internet teen" i just can't help but imagine isaac in his emo phase lmao

isaac's emo phase in canon. arthur morgan timewarped to see his son wear skinny jeans, black nail-polish and converse AND STILL LOVES HIM REGARDLESS.

those concerts arthur takes him to? mcr. fallout boy. peak panic at the disco. the used. jimmy eat world. tonight alive. linkin park. simple plan. evanescence (we are the fallen superiority). i should stop just listing the stuff i listened to in my phase but yes. he also would've resented being called emo but it was so obviously an emo phase

isaac only wanted a guitar so he could learn 'i'm not okay' and insisted on getting a les paul for his first guitar which of course meemaw bessie was all too happy to pay for because she will always spoil her grandbabies and please any hobby that wasn't getting him into trouble

hosea and arthur did have to team up to stop the emo sweep hair from happening and honestly thanked god when the helena music video dropped and isaac immediately decided he would instead wear his hair long and greased back with enough product it looked like it needed to be wringed out instead

everyone regularly had to remind him to turn down his headphones because hearing loss is real

it is not a phase. he is still listening to all that stuff well into adulthood when jack gets timewarps immediately gets jack into it too. they are both depressed emos who lay on the floor listening to three cheers for sweet revenge (jack's fav mcr album, isaac's is danger days)

despite having naturally black hair, isaac box-dyes his hair transylvania black and jack laughs for a solid 20 minutes when he catches him

in an angsty twist (you were waiting for it, admit it) isaac's emo phase is why he's so attached to jack, because while he was in his peak emo 'no one understands me i'm a lost boy i was born in the wrong era twice*' phase is when he found out jack marston did in fact have a book published despite being executed at only 19.

thank god for john marston being a barely okay dad because jack wrote a lot about how out of place he felt, not only with his family being the way they were while he was the way he was, but also having faint memories of the gang, sneaking glances at arthur's journal and wondering how his life would have been different if the gang hadn't been torn apart. the entries go past john's death, jack's struggles with the ranch and abigail's illness, being forced to become his dad's idea of what a man instead of deciding who he wanted to be, concluding with the vague implication he was planning to go after ross (which isaac also knows he will do, because future antics)

what could possibly be more emo than having a cousin born 100 years in the past, who is simultaneously younger than you and older than you, who becomes an outlaw, commits murder and then is executed for it? isaac understands at least chronologically how the timewarp works - that even though jack has already been executed and had this biographical fiction published - at that actual point in canon era jack is still 5 years younger than him yet to experience the things he's written about

being able to relate to jack actually gives isaac a reason to push through the bullshit of modern era adolescence and high school because he knew one day jack is going to timewarp and he is going to be right there for him. because, let's be honest, most of us emos were just mentally ill teens who didn't know where to go for help, and isaac was definitely depressed

[onlyjaeyun]

i just had this random thought as i was rereading posion (as one does) and it would be sooooo cute when yn finds out about heeseungs priv??? i feel like yn didn’t use her priv twt THAT much, but hee wrote EVERYTHING in there.

it would happen when one of 02z (read: jake. LMAO) ‘accidentally’ told yn how during the beginning, heeseung always typed shit in his phone and jake believed it was some secret journal or something with super cringey stuff. he wants this shit for blackmail ofc, and who better to get it from than the girl hee is the weakest for. yn wouldn’t go through his phone but instead, as they cuddle on their bed that night, she straight up asks heeseung who immediately goes red in the face. he (embarrassingly) shows her his priv acc, which hasn’t been used for a while, and yn scrolls ALL THE WAY DOWN and-

“oh my god??? we spoke like 3 words and you wanted to eat me out???”

hee’s even more red in the face and he tries to defend himself that it was out of love and that he just really wanted you—and then it gets to the part where hee said thaf he bet jiung didn’t even know where the clit was and yn’s jaw just DROPS. bc HOW WAS THIS MAN THIRSTING OVER HER SOOO MUCH when she was here thinking he hated her😭😭😭

but the takeaway here is jake never gets his blackmail bc yn keeps those tweets stored in her memory. whenever she wants to get hee riled up or embarrassed, she’ll go “remember that time you said ____ about jiung…”

hee goes on his knees to beg you to not mention it again. and you agree, as long as he stays on his knees to pay you back if ykwim. but hee’s always happy to worship you, so is it really payment???

(okay you tell jake like one tweet heeseung wrote and he blocks you for a day to recuperate)

YOUR BRAIN SEND IT TO ME SO I CAN KISS IT BC FUCK YES!!!!!! i oove this so much and am absolutely gonna make this a bonus chapter and give you credit! thank you so much for this baby 🥺🤍