#thats not me saying im USING it just watching someone else use it

[skyburger]

"fnaf is the scariest game ever" "no its silent hill" "well i think its resident evil" everyone shut up!!!!!! youre all wrong. its actually zack & wiki quest for barbaros' treasure (on the nintendo wii) but only the level "keeper of the ice". that level scared me so bad as a kid and you can tell because its the only individual level i remember the name of off the top of my head. like there is nothing scarier than a) being chased and b) being on a time limit. and you know what this level has? BOTH OF THOSE. this level is still scary to me im like AHHHHH!!!! and then i die

[piratadelamor]

its a bit weird that i know both of my boyfriend's exes personally and even weirder that we all look like each other because he really has a type and there's the fact that his first ex shows up all the time on my instagram and his second ex is weirdly obsessed with trying to keep contact with him even though she was the one who left him for someone else (on december 23rd !!) and she stalked me on ig and she's friends with my roommate and like. this is my first time not being my partner's first gf so it's my first time dealing with ex gfs and it's all just super weird to me

[lewyn-martell]

.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

the good thing about asperger's no longer being a diagnosis is that it's just called level 1 autism spectrum disorder now. i know i probably shouldn't be poking around in the mental health of strangers online, but as an autistic person myself, your struggles resonated with me. ever since i've been able to accept, understand, and begin to provide myself accommodations for my autism, my mental health has improved tremendously. autism is also co-morbid with oodles of other conditions, so it is definitely possible to have autism and other conditions that may have overlapping symptoms

It's funny, I was diagnosed, accepted it, over analyzed and rejected it, subsequently forgot about it entirely, then when the only helpful counselor I ever had brought up the idea I was like: Oh yeah! That makes sense. And went through the same process over again. I will say, having someone point out that something might be inhibiting my ability to interact with people was extremely helpful. Because I just thought I was really bad at it and processed it as a point of failure (which was intolerable). At one point she said "You don't have to do things you don't want to just because you feel like you should" and I think about that a lot. That should have been obvious but it was like she slapped me with a fish

[gibbearish]

i still have yet to see the new hbomb but for anyone who's watched it now and wants more this is not the first time he's covered this kind of thing, "here's three stories about youtube plagiarism" is from 6 years ago on the same subject and is still very good

[rodeorun]

"For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more—make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him." THAT'S DEVOTION BRO YOOOO

God is Fair

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Two-Shot

the deets: since you were young, you knew you were meant for each other. he comes into your life like a storm and grows closer no matter how distant you seem. he swells and captures your heart every time he's near. so why do you keep fighting him? w.c: 11k (holy f*ck) out of idk yet for part-two (god bless) tags: fem!reader, mostly angsty….pretty much 90% angst for part 1, repressed feelings, jealousy, lingering lips and fingers, a little bit of self-depreciation at the end but pick that crown up love, reader gets a little violent at the end 😳|if i missed anything, pls comment or DM ☺️ angel’s note: this story started as one thing and ended up as another—so goes the way of life. PSA: most of the good, filthy, mack-nasty shyt is in part 2, but you’ve gotta wade through the fire first to get it. It’s always worth it|thanks for reading 🖤 earworm 🐛: Chihiro|Billie Eilish

Over time, you had become perfectly molded to him.

As did his lips to your tender bud that sank under his sinful tongue.

Slender, gripping fingers drown under his raven locks, barely saving you from the shallow breaths you must take to stay alive.

You’re just above water, and he steals your air, spelling poetry with his tongue over your folding petals. Broken coos spill from your puffy lips—his favorite melody to ever grace his ears.

Whether it was today, tomorrow, yesterday, or forever—you fall—in and in and even deeper into his grasp. Under the waves and trapped in his ocean—he gently pulls you under—your lungs yearning for air, but you never want out.

And the way he dives in, drowning to taste every drop, every sweet, delectable sip of your nectar like he could live the rest of his life without oxygen—tells you that he doesn’t either. 

You learned to love each other’s oceans and came to mix seas. Both threaded rough waters but learned to float with calm bodies.

Now you lie hand in hand, limbs weaved like vines through each other’s arms, as you cuddle. Completely spent from another night in each other’s depths. Grateful. Grateful for his love—his patience.

And wondering how on Earth you thought it’d be possible to exist without someone you swore you despised.

Suguru had always been the best—the best at being good, the best at being kind, the best at being quiet—the best at being better than you. 

When you were eight years old, he made his quiet introduction into your quaint little neighborhood, riding in a flashy Mercedes-Benz followed by two moving trucks that pulled right into the driveway directly across the street from your humble home. Heels painted with red bottoms adorned stocking-covered legs and were the first things you saw as you watched from your bedroom window. 

The sound of movers drew your attention. No one ever came to your city, let alone your cul-de-sac. You felt a shift. A change was coming.

A tall woman, her long, sleek ponytail blowing in the wind, stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing large couture shades that took up most of her face. The overhanging forecast made everything bleak and gray, but the sunglasses stayed. A man exited the passenger seat and came to the woman’s side. He gingerly took her hand and looked around with a small smile, gently rubbing her arm. She slightly grimaced and handed him what looked like one of those small, overpriced designer bags.

They looked so…out of place.

They had to smell like money.

What the heck were they doing here? 

In a city like yours, one of those places where everyone knows everyone and everybody's business, you instantly knew that this couple would be the talk of the town. At least with the adults.  

You blew air into your bangs. You weren’t expecting new neighbors, but they could have at least come with a kid—someone who might actually want you around. 

“Hey, Bug,” your dad called from the garden. He always left the back door open so he could hear you in case you needed him. He must have heard the rumbling of their heavy trucks now being unloaded with elegant furniture. Would all of that even fit in there? Their house was bigger than yours but not by much. “Sounds like we’ve got new neighbors. Might go by later and say hi if you want to come.”

“No thanks.” You turned back to the window, resting your head on your arms. Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Richy Rich did not sound very appealing to you and might only make you feel worse on this already gloomy Spring day. For once, you just wanted to be pleasantly surprised and not just surprised—something you wouldn’t expect, like hitting the jackpot or whatever.

And then you saw him, inky black hair drawn into a short ponytail, emerging from the back seat of the fancy car and clutching a book thicker than his torso. His starched white-collar shirt and beige shorts reminded you of school. He kept his chin tucked and looked like the wind just might knock him over if the book wasn’t keeping him upright. 

He and the woman were near twins. Definitely mother and son. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and put on a genuine smile for him. The man draped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he took in the neighborhood. Slow and sheepish. You thought his eyes caught yours when he looked behind him.

You ducked under the window sill. 

Sh—

“You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time, Bug,” your dad called again. It sounded like he might be wrapping up. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You inched back up to the window and peered over the edge. The boy looked like he was just as lost as to why he was there. Anxious. Reserved. Kind of boring. 

Not your speed.

You blew a raspberry and turned away. So much for that. You wouldn’t be missing much.

In your neighborhood, all the kids walked freely to each other’s houses to see if anyone was home. This was before everyone had cell phones to save time and figure it out for them. 

You watched it happen with the other kids all the time. They’d visit each other and either stay inside (super rare) or call up the rest of the neighborhood to play in the cul-de-sac or park. 

But you were never quite given a direct invitation.

The few friends you were close with moved away about a year ago, and the thought of making new ones who would eventually do the same kept you emotionally at arm's length. To make it worse, you swore the group you were left with undoubtedly hated you.

Why?

Because you had a history of sucking. 

Everyone else in the neighborhood was naturally good at something. Anything. Everything.

But you?

You had to try.

Mess up. And try again. At almost anything you could name.

Basketball? Trash. 

Tag? You were slow.

Football? Pssssh. As if—like you’d let yourself get hurt? You sat out every time.

So, the kids stopped inviting you or always picked you last. Both were grimy slaps in the face. Because you always knew you could be better. Delulu was the solulu if they’d only give you a chance. Or two. Or a few. Like damn, you were trying. 

At least you weren’t the only one being left out. 

It’d been weeks since you saw the new kid on the block—not like you thought about him much after you dismissed him. But slowly, as the sounds of Spring beckoned him outside, he reminded you that the new “rich” neighbors did indeed have a kid. It started with the curtains in his living room window gently ruffling before he’d peek out, then eventually upgraded to gracing the neighborhood with his presence to sit outside. For hours, he watched from his front porch as the neighborhood kids dashed past your houses to play in the cul-de-sac. 

It kind of made you jealous—the amount of space and freedom on their porch that his parents clearly weren’t taking advantage of. Only two plastic chairs and a small table occupied the space, and they weren’t nearly as lovely as the things you saw go into the home on move-in day. You’d string up one of those hammocks big enough for two like you’d seen on TV and just float in the breeze under the overhang. It had been a frequent daydream of yours long before they moved in. 

Instead, a gawking boy with too much time on his hands made it his home. Watching. Fiddling with his fingers and leaning on the rail. Watching. Always seeming too afraid to approach. He had what you thought was the best house in the neighborhood (and probably the most money), and still, he looked so sad. 

With the background he seemed to come from, you thought he’d be more ballsy. 

One day, you were, and you walked right up there, took the hand of the wide-eyed kid, and led him to the rest of the kids down at the park. His dad watched the whole thing go down from the kitchen window as he did the dishes, silently laughing as the boy stumbled behind you but didn’t say a word. 

This was your chance. You were so tired of the other kids being better than you. With him being the new kid, you thought he’d at least be somewhat on your level or maybe even a bit worse. Anything was better than being the odd one out. 

You and the boy just a few inches shorter than you crashed the party right before the next game started. You beamed at the group like you had caught a prized fish. 

“Guys, this is um…um…” Then you realize you hadn’t asked his name. And he was still holding your hand. 

You dropped it and nudged him. “Suguru,” he said softly, seeming to avoid eye contact.

Suguru hadn’t seen that many kids in a group like this outside of school. He didn’t mean to look so anxious, but he wasn’t used to being in a neighborhood full of kids his age. He instantly felt like an outsider seeing how comfortable everyone was with each other, apart from you by his side. While soft smiles offered him a glimmer of acceptance, the stares made him self-conscious. He wondered if he could ever fit in.

You repeated his name in case no one heard him. Suguru. It naturally rolled off your tongue. Soft and sweet. Like the boy. He fidgeted with his fingers, but hearing his name felt reassuring. You looked at him and grinned. It was time to see what he’s got.

Tee-ball was the game. One you hated the most. Running was not your sport, and you certainly didn’t have an arm, so it never hurt your feelings too much when you weren’t picked for teams. But you made sure Suguru was. You wanted to see him in action. 

Last summer, you guys found an old traffic cone to use as the tee and placed sticks around the field for bases. 

You didn’t expect much from Suguru when it was time to bat because…look at him. He was so small and timid. The bat borrowed from someone’s dad was almost the same size as him, and you swore you saw his feet lift a few times during his practice swings. Too much of that and he’d be airborne. You prepared to give him a “job well done” pat on the back once he hit the ball a few feet. Suguru squared up at the tee—on his way to join you at the bottom of the barrel.

And wouldn’t you know it? 

He knocked the ball clear out of the park and didn’t even skim the cone. 

Your mouth fell open before you remembered you were the designated retriever since you weren’t playing the game. You grumbled the whole walk and search for it. 

And then he did it again. And again. And again. 

And surprise, surprise, he excelled at every game he played after. Everyone wanted Suguru on their team. 

You gaped at the feats—so much power, strength, and coordination in such an unassuming body.

And instantly hated him.

Not because he was the best or braggy about it. 

It was the complete opposite. 

He barely seemed to acknowledge it—not in an arrogant, dismissive way, but more like he was just happy to be involved and doing something. He was sheepish with compliments and even seemed nervous to receive them. He’d rub his head and give a little close-eyed smile before returning to the game.

And would peer over to you on the sidelines for approval. 

Every swing, every hit, and every game after, his purple eyes would find yours whenever he thought he’d done something worthwhile.

You tried to hide the jealous scowl, returning his shy smile with a nod and telling him to keep his head in the game. 

But he noticed.

He saw it. He knew you were unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to help. 

So after that, you kind of mirrored each other. 

The kids always saw you as a try-hard—constantly on repeat, trying to make yourself valid and stand out. You’d grab failure by the throat, determined to make it forget your name. You weren’t attention-seeking; only wanted to be counted in. And so the student became the teacher. Suguru began to slip you little nods as if saying he saw you—just like you saw him all those times on his front porch. It’d annoy you at first, what you thought could’ve been pity, but it felt nice to finally be acknowledged by someone. 

And so gradually, you looked to him as a spectator, earning silent yeses and nos until you finally worked up the courage to do what you were afraid of most. Ask him to be a friend. 

To help you perfect your skills, of course. 

But the friendship blossomed like the Spring, and you and Suguru actually grew really close—instantly drawn to each other. Pop-ups to his house were the norm as you had the most advantage out of everyone in the neighborhood by living right across from him. And you both were always brought up by one another’s parents.

Turns out Suguru’s dad was a lot like yours and they got on really well. They’re both funny, kind. But your dad’s just a little bit different. He’s got rebellion in his bones, as he often talked about when he told you stories about his youth and take-no-shit hippie days. 

“I’m serious, Bug. So, there we were, strapped to the tree. Shackled, really.” 

He mimicked the story with his arms in between laughs. 

“So, so we’re all chained up, right? And this bulldozer is coming right at our heads, ya? I look over to Stanley,” your even crazier God-father who showered you with gifts every time he visited, “I say, ‘Stanley, tough up. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.’ And he goes, ‘I’m not scared. I forgot to go before we locked ourselves in.’” 

Your dad roared with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes like he hadn’t told that story a million times. Like he was going around trying to collect little activists. But Suguru almost fell over, leaning into his every word. He was such a shy laugher, always creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he did. It made your dad feel like the funniest guy alive when Suguru entertained his jokes.

“You were so brave,” and Suguru called your dad by his nickname just like your dad told him to. “I want to be that brave when I’m older.”

Your dad winked at you—you stuck out your tongue. Suguru was a good kid, he thought and reminded him a bit of himself.

Those days, your dad was mostly still the same. He didn’t need much and chose to live life quaint and peaceful. He’d talk your ear off about activism, travel, and stories about your mom, who passed when you were born. You never got to “meet” her, but you always felt like you knew exactly who she was. And she was totally different from Suguru’s mom, who you learned was a hard-working corporate baddie. Red bottom heels. Makes sense.

By the end of that first summer, your families were practically joined at the hip. You and Suguru even more so. Outside of house calls and playing games with the rest of the neighborhood, the two of you also made frequent trips to the makeshift pier. Almost everything in your neighborhood and the surrounding area was walkable, including a small, wobbly, probably dangerous dock that sat over the small lake in town. You’d play a little alphabet game you made up on the walk down and constantly challenge him. Only for him to literally beat you at your own game nine times out of ten. 

“Angels shop at—” You skipped down the dirt path.

“Blessed boutiques,” Suguru finished, “Beautiful coats—”

“Can clothe their wings. Dashing dolls—”

“Eat every sweet. Forks will find—”

“Giant…giant,” you thought and thought and thought, “Giant—”

“Geese!”’ Suguru tagged you and ran down the dock, deeming you the loser of that round. You strolled down to meet him near the water reflecting the sunset. A pout took up your face. He patted the deck, motioning for you to sit. “You’re gonna miss the fireflies.”

Watching them pop up one by one and glow on the water as the sun went down became a ritual. And one of your favorite memories of summer.

The following school year, you were even more inseparable. And when the end of fifth grade rolled around the year after, you knew it was fate when you found out you’d be attending the same middle school. 

You were overjoyed. So was Suguru, but for different reasons. To you, now it was on. 

Academics was an area where you had a fair shot at flourishing. You were studious, attentive, and almost the perfect student. And while you didn’t have bad grades, you always felt like you could be better. And you know why. Because everything came naturally to Suguru, of course. 

Thank goodness for extracurriculars, though. The two of you didn’t need to do everything together, and you both benefited from the time and separation to do your own thing and discover your own interests. The Newspaper club caught your eye and was more interesting than you thought it would be—the first hobby to make you fall in love with words. 

Suguru took an interest in robotics and, surprisingly, Yearbook. He was pretty crafty with a camera and made sure to snap the best photos of you during your events. 

But the two of you rarely spoke of school or after-school activities. You never wanted him to know if you were struggling or needed help with anything. You tried not to rely on him so much those days, so everything with you was always good. It had to be. He was still the competition, after all. And you had to appear just as flawless. 

Instead, you enjoyed late-night phone calls that went way past both of your bedtimes as you grew into middle schoolers. Pretending to be asleep and slipping the phone under your pillow without moving a muscle when your parents checked in was a sport. It couldn’t be helped. The books you were reading, shows you were watching, and thoughts on what high school would be like were too good not to talk about into the late-night hours—even when your eyelids got too tired to stay open. Falling asleep with your cellphones in hand or occupying a space on your pillows was the norm. 

“What’d ya think about the movie?” 

“I mean, the book is always better, right? But like,” you sighed happily into the phone, “they made their lives look so…amazing.”

You watched The Great Gatsby 1979 version on DVD at Suguru’s house right after school that day before you had to scurry off to help your dad in the garden. Suguru finished the book a few days ago, and after catching him with it during lunch and poking him enough to get him to spill some of the details, you were sold. A glamorous story about a life of luxury and passion? Say less. And because you couldn’t resist, you told him you’d finish it in less time than he did.

Suguru thought the movie was pretty true to the book, but man, what a sad story. You, however, were in love with the lifestyle.

“What about Daisy?”

You pondered Daisy’s decision for half a second before deciding she was a one-off. All her if she had been spoiled, something you were a total stranger to but didn’t make a point to say—only dismissed her frivolous ways and called her a coward. “Just the money and parties would be enough for me,” you said in a daydream. “It’d be too happy to be that shallow.” 

Suguru laughed and said that wasn’t the point of the book. “Money can't always buy happiness. She could’ve had love. It was right there.” He sounded so sophisticated when he said it, much too wise and sappy for a 13-year-old. 

You suck your teeth. “That’s easy for you to say.” And you reminded him that he has a nicer house, clothes, car. “And when are y’all getting the Benz back?” Lately, you and Suguru had been getting picked up by his dad in a major downgrade of a car. It’d been at least two months, and you were missing the feel of luxury against your skin.

The phone went quiet for a second, and Suguru scratched his head. “Uh, we actually don’t have it anymore.”

Your eyes widened as if he had just told you someone died. Borderline devastation set in like it was your family losing one of its greatest displays of wealth. But Suguru didn’t sound the least bit sad when he told you that his dad referred to the “new car” as a “cash car” because they needed something quick.

And then it clicked, and you realized why you’d been noticing that furniture and things had also been disappearing in his house when you came over. And why he had to switch to the free lunch program you were also on at school. And why his dad mentioned looking for a second job the other day. Suguru’s family had been hit by the recession. And that’s how he became your neighbor.

Most of everything Suguru grew up with in his previous family home was placed in storage when they first moved into your neighborhood. His mom thought their stay would be temporary; she had been demoted at work but didn’t think it was a big deal, and things would quickly be back to normal—maybe even come with a promotion if she worked hard enough. But it wasn’t her skills that was the problem. The economy was in shambles, and her company was running out of money. After two years of hoping for a miracle, she and over 40% of her company were laid off.

They kept all of this from Suguru until only a few weeks ago. He was much too young to understand what it all meant when it first happened—he was just a kid. But now, he was older, smarter, way less naïve. They couldn’t keep lying to him about why the car was away at the shop or why the family heirloom dining table went missing, among other things. 

When they told him that he’d have to slow down on his growing book collection and get only one gift this year for his birthday, that’s when he started asking questions—not that neither of those things meant much to him. He was more than happy to frequent the school library, and you noticed that he’d been spending a lot more time there than usual during breaks. What bothered Suguru the most was the looks his parents gave him when they told him everything. Like they were delivering the worst news in the world. Like they were so worried that they’d be disappointing him. Like they should be ashamed. 

It hurt him more to know that they felt like they had failed him. 

“My dad just looks so tired all of the time now.” Mr. Geto, who had been a stay-at-home work-from-home employee since before Suguru was born, had to get a part-time job working overnight to help bridge the widening gap between their old and new lifestyle. Now, Suguru doesn’t get to see him as much except to make breakfast and kiss Suguru goodbye with a sluggish smile on his face before school. He really missed his dad. And it made you feel like shit for momentarily being a Daisy.

For the rest of the night, you just listened to Suguru tell stories about back home—what his parents were like, the things they used to do, the trips they would take, and the time they spent together. Little memories from a place you’ve never been but could clearly see as he talked through the night. Never once did Suguru mention missing the things he used to have or wanted now. The people in his life are what he cared about most. 

“My dad got a new antenna for the TV to surprise my mom with so she can still watch her favorite channels from back home,” he laughed. “It’s so big. I hadn’t seen one before, so it was kinda funny to look at, but I’m glad it’ll make her happy.”

You solemnly smiled and propped up on your arm. “Do you ever miss home? Like being back there?”

He mentioned that he thought about it sometimes: the plush green grass in his front and backyard that he’d lay in for hours, the much sunnier skies compared to the frequently gray and cloudy ones, and humid air here in your rainy city, the few friends and family members he had to leave behind. But he liked it here better and surprised the hell out of you by saying so. 

Anywhere was better than being here. 

Even though his family was going through a hard time, they still managed to get the nicest house in the neighborhood. You could only imagine what his childhood home looked like compared to the one bedroom and living room your dad made into his own space. You asked why. What could possibly make this place any better than where he came from?

You could hear him shrug through the phone as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just something about this place.”

You still think about that conversation sometimes.

The end of middle school came in a blaze, and so did puberty. 

Suddenly, you became aware that it was time to start caring about what you looked like. Some nights, you would call it early with Suguru in favor of spending hours on YouTube watching videos and learning how to wear makeup. You put more thought into how you dressed and tried your best to style the little clothes you had into mostly decent outfits. You’d beam every morning when you entered the kitchen to grab breakfast and say goodbye to your dad. He’d try his best not to cry, watching his little Bug grow up before his eyes. 

Suguru did some growing, too. The summer of 7th grade, he got a little taller, and when your final year started, you guys were finally neck and neck. He was beginning to be able to see the top of your head when he lifted his chin, and he would make little jokes about it in his prepubescent boy's voice, which was starting to crack. You’d push the too-big glasses that he got at the start of middle school up the bridge of his nose and tell him not to get too cocky. This was the tallest he would get, you’d tease. He may have been good at everything, but he’d always be a pip-squeak. 

When you weren’t going back and forth with Suguru, you were hanging out with the new gal pals you made at school. Your little trio started spending more time together, window shopping at the mall, attending football games after school, and talking each other’s ears off about anything in between throughout your last year. You couldn’t tell Suguru everything, of course—there are some things that guys will simply never be able to relate to or understand. 

And one day, while the three of you sat at lunch together while Suguru was off with his robotics team, one of your gals leaned over the cafeteria table to poke you with a devious smile and ask the age-old question: who do you like in school?

Your brain had the audacity to picture Suguru first. 

Your friends squealed watching your face blush beet red, but you turned away and never answered the question—only said that you were more focused on school and extracurriculars to help you in college than anything else. 

Where the hell did that come from? 

Suguru was, debatably, your best friend, but that was it. Not that you needed to convince anyone else of that. Just…yourself? Before that day, you never really thought of Suguru in that light. He was this quiet, nerdy, prodigy of a boy who was great at everything and gave you another reason to want to be just as good. You secretly looked up to him, if you wanted to call it that, but you certainly didn’t like him. 

He was just the boy next door. 

The boy next door who was challenging you once again: to push the little hints of affection that had been blossoming aside and dismiss them. Bury them down, keep your eyes on the prize, and finally be rewarded for your efforts. To keep up with him, not fall in love with him. 

On a rare sunny Saturday, a month and a half before school let out for the summer, the two of you sat on his beloved front porch with the future on your minds.  

Suguru picked at the grass growing between the wooden boards. “Thinking about trying something new next year?”

You popped another sugary blackberry from your backyard into your mouth while stretched out on Suguru’s favorite quilt. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you looked, drinking up the warm sunbeams on your skin.

“I don’t know,” your arms folded behind your head as you stared at the ceiling, “I love Newspaper, but…I don’t know. I think I wanna branch out.” You just weren’t sure how yet. You had done some research on the high school you’d both be attending next year and ran down the list looking for something to jump out at you. Something you could really put yourself into. You still loved writing and expressing yourself, but there was nothing else besides repeating Newspaper or trying Yearbook (Sugu’s territory). The rest of your options weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

“How about volleyball?”

“Nah.”

“Art club?”

“Mmm-mm.”

He leaned against the wooden railing. “Hmmm, choir?”

You laughed and didn’t even bother to respond to what was clearly a joke. 

He sighed and pensively licked the sugar from his fingers before asking if maybe you’d want to do something together. 

You looked over at him and squinted. “What?” he shrugged.

“You know what.” And he shook his head all innocent-like. Always innocent that Suguru. Effortlessly wrapping everyone around his finger. Your dad, his teachers. Even your trio mentioned him from time to time about how helpful he was. With all the times he went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even you were starting to let your guard down. Watching him now as his ponytail blew softly in the wind, looking so naïve as to what you meant but still wanting to understand, made you blush sick.

Not having much of a reason to actually be so guarded, you made one up. “You tryna go toe to toe with me, Geto?.” Your brow cocked, and you used his last name because you knew it’d get to him. He was fully aware that you only say it when you’re serious, and it’s mostly blurted when you guys go at it on Mario Kart. 

“Just because I said we should do something together?” 

“Yeah, so you can one-up me.” If there was a hobby or favorite pastime that you really enjoyed and might actually be better than good at, you knew it was best to keep it out of Suguru’s reach. Academic and recreational competition needed to remain separate if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Suguru took a breath. If there was one thing he didn’t bother competing with you at, it was arguing. He knew you wouldn't back down if he just sat here and tried to convince you; you’d poke a hole in every counter until he simply gave up. So, instead, he pandered to your inflated ego and told the truth. He chewed his lip. “C’mon, Twin. I promise I won’t. Do it for me.”

His soft purple gaze landed on you, and you got a funny feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before. 

He was serious. 

He really wanted to be at your side trying something new, exploring together—helping each other find yourselves. The shy teen who was as quiet as a mouse and yet a beast of a kid wanted to be right there with you. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

You cleared your throat and averted his gaze. “Fine,” you agreed, but on one condition, “It stays a hobby, no competing.” And it sounded like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But valedictorian? That’s mine.” And you toss another blackberry into the air and catch it perfectly in your mouth, making Suguru raise his eyebrows.

“That’s a bet,” he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sugar from the corner of your lips. You swat away his hand and punch his shoulder, but damn him if the gesture didn’t make you feel all weird inside. He faked an “Ow” and rubbed his arm before joining you on the quilt to soak in the sun. You closed your eyes and pretended to float in the breeze whistling through the railing. Even without the hammock, it kind of felt like you were 

“Sooo, what do you wanna do this summer?”

Who knew this core memory of each other’s youth, the moment you finally let his fingers inch across the blanket and softly brush yours without pulling back, would be one of your last? 

Two weeks before break started, after all of your plans for the summer and the following school year had been planned out, it happened. 

To this day, you question the timing of your worst nightmare—just when you thought you were living the dream—coming true.

The Geto’s were moving on up. 

For years, Suguru watched his mom grind in corporate America. It wasn’t new to him; she had one of the hardest work ethics he’d ever seen, but it was on a different level after his family moved to your city. Something in her had changed—the thought of instability. She knew Suguru was used to not seeing her due to long hours at work, but when it started to affect her husband, when it began to shift the family’s dynamic, she knew she had to figure something out, and fast. She could sacrifice her time for the family. She couldn’t sacrifice Suguru’s time with his dad. 

All these years, Suguru’s family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps while Suguru was lost in the bliss of friendship. Mrs. Geto’s hard work paid off, and she got a promotion—on the opposite end of the country. 

The day was bright and sunny when he left, the exact opposite of how you felt watching the beat-up car that had grown on you drive out of the neighborhood. You looked on from your window because you didn’t want him to see you crying, watching, or caring. 

You had been right from the first time you saw him. 

And was back to square one.

You guys tried to stay in touch, you really did, but being in totally different time zones made keeping up with each other a little harder. New apps for your phones, like Snapchat and Instagram, helped a little, but they didn't compare to the late-night phone calls you missed so much. 

At first, Suguru would Snap you about how he was getting on in his new city, neighborhood, and places his family would explore over the summer. The thought of him being someone’s new boy-next-door made your stomach twist. When school rolled around, he’d send Snaps and joke about his preppy new uniform that came with a vibrant red tie and over-starched navy pants. His mom got him into a fancy private school because, of course she would, but they were really strict with phones, so you wouldn’t be able to talk to him until he got home. By the time he did, the sun had already gone down for you, and you’d be too tired from your own after-school activities to keep your eyes open.

You missed Suguru—even your dad missed him and his family terribly. 

You missed him so much that you began to resent him—his new life, fancy school, and new “friends”. Jealousy reared its ugly head, forcing you to put your walls up again. 

Another friend, gone, moved on to bigger and better things. Leaving you behind once again. You had finally found a friend, a real friend, who never made you feel bad—someone you could tell almost all of your secrets to. Who got whisked away. Who you’d give anything to see again and go back to the way things were. 

Though it’d only been five years, you felt like you’d known him your entire life.

It wasn’t fair.

Sometimes I fall But still, I rise To the skies high above  In the clouds my ego Will go where no one knows

Why I am here

And why I try

To defy what I believe What it means to succeed To be won

To be one

To be “the one”

A smoking gun.

“Thank you.”

The cafe filled with snapping fingers as you walked off the stage, heart pounding and a smile plastered on your ducking head. 

Look at you now. Performing in cafes, libraries, open-mics, wherever you could be that called for an audience. Still a little shy, but letting it motivate you and pour out on the floor to be soaked up by the listeners. It was an adrenaline rush, finally finding something you knew belonged to you and being damned good at it. 

No one was better than you at telling the world how you felt while simultaneously mesmerizing an audience with your soliloquy and speech. Words still had a hold on you; you just figured it was better to say them out loud than keep them written down.

“Good job, Bug.” Your dad handed you a hot cup of tea fresh from the counter with your nickname scribbled in big cursive letters across the cup. 

“Dad, please stop calling me that.”

He frowned. “But you’re my little bug.” He threw an arm around you, almost making you spill the hot liquid. 

You groaned and protested. “I’m not a kid anymore.” And took a sip too soon, burning the tip of your tongue. You held it in and swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else saw the scorned look on your face. 

You thought of 15 as one of your prime years and kept yourself busy to prove it. Just a sophomore in high school, Baby had a new hobby: dominating slam poetry. You had taken over the scene in your city with expansion heavy on your mind. Though it was hard for your dad to hear, you were right; you weren’t a kid anymore. But you knew he was just proud of you. More than you could ever know. It made him happy to see you had something no one could take from you. 

With a tsk, you leaned into his hug. You should be thanking him more. When the idea of doing slam poetry first crossed your mind, you were a hot mess (surprise, surprise) at being confident (BIG surprise)—your stage presence was lacking, to be specific. 

On the page, your poems were like water in a desert, but opening your mouth and performing it with your whole chest was…different. 

Fixating on your lines and your rhythm made you want to pull your hair out. It was hard making sure your words sounded like you and would be understood. You needed to be understood. 

You’d practice your performances in front of your dad until you were blue in the face. A show was put on for anyone who would listen. And secretly, you missed Suguru’s presence because he’d be perfect for it.

But you didn’t need him. You were on your way to competing in your first official local competition. All your practice around the city and long hours at home agonizing over your talent for slam poetry built up to that moment—the time to show the world what you had to offer. 

Nothing felt better than holding the gold 1st place medallion between your fingers afterward. Regionals came next, and nothing could have validated your talent more than the medals you took home on top of the prize money your dad stashed away for college. 

It was time to travel, and Nationals was your next target.

You couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being outside your city. The thought of being beyond the walls of home once felt like a hopeless dream. New cities, new friends, new organizations, and new styles of poetry were within your reach. The exhilarating travel that worried your dad put a thrill in your heart. You wanted to see everything—be heard everywhere. Life was full of opportunity and everything it had to offer. 

“So you’re gonna do the group piece and then an individual one, maybe?” 

You leaned against the cool bus window as you and your teammates winded down the road to your next hotel. Over the summer, you traveled with your state’s top slam poetry organization to compete in regional cities around the coast. All of this was practice for the Nationals coming up that August before school started. The day was coming faster than you could imagine. 

“I don’t know about a solo.”

You looked out the window and chewed your bottom lip. Your team lead had been pushing you to do a stand-alone piece for the Nationals for weeks, but you felt far from ready. You were strong in a group, but on your own, looking out into a crowd of people while demanding their attention on an empty stage, the thought made you queasy.

This wasn’t your local library or a small regional contest. Nationals is where you tell the country who you are and why you matter. 

“Hey,” a hand rested on your shoulder, calling you back. “You’ve got this. You deserve this.” 

And you did deserve it. You’d worked too hard and advanced so far in such a short amount of time. You didn’t think you’d get here so fast, but here you were, on a double-decker bus full of others who were just as talented as you, in a place where you belonged. In a place where you didn’t have to try so hard or look for that slight nod of approval to let you know you were seen. 

August was in a hurry to put you on the stage because, before you knew it, it was time to head to California for the Nationals. What better place to begin to live your dreams than in the place where they all come true? Sunny skies, sandy beaches, and the aura of art and performance lingered in the air. It was the complete opposite of where you came from. It felt like home. You could see how Suguru could get easily lost in all. 

You always wanted to visit the West Coast and see how he was living.

It’d be so funny to randomly Snap him after all this time and tell him you were so close, but you decided against it.

Cali was HUGE; there’s no way the competition would just happen to be in his city for you to casually bump into him.

Plus, imagine that awkward reunion after a few years of radio silence.

You two could be completely different people now.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

So many great things happened since his family packed up and left. In fact, without Suguru around, you found yourself excelling more naturally at anything and everything than ever before. Comparisons were a thing of the past, and you knew you had something no one else could take away from you.

Except maybe the competitor going on before you at the Nationals. 

The audience was loud and clearly approving of his killer performance as they ate him up with whistles and snapping fingers. Who needed a mic when you had a voice like that? Easily projecting across the entire venue with every rhythmic pop, beat, and enunciation of his words. You might have met your match or worse. For the first time in your poetic career, you thought you just might lose your winning streak. 

Anxiety convinced you to head back to the holding area. You just needed to run through the lines of your solo only a few more times. You’ve got this. He was nothing. This was nothing. You were taking home first place—absolutely positive that success was literally on the tip of your tongue. Until you saw him. 

The boy with the raven hair. 

Unmistakable and stopping you dead in your tracks as you saw him in the flesh for the first time in 2 years, standing long and tall in the venue. Not in the audience, Not as a stagehand, But in another team’s holding room. As a competitor. 

Your heart plummets into your ass.

What in the fuck was he doing here???

You swiftly ducked behind the wall leading to your team’s holding area, hand flying to your chest to still the thunderous beating. 

Deep breaths, deep breaths. DEEP B R E A T H S. 

Your mouth suddenly became desert dry. The entire summer, you prepared yourself to keep from slipping up—you would suppress the urge to call him, think about him, or wonder where he would be when you were here. You covered all of the bases. But here he was in a place you least expected. In a place you now knew you’d dread seeing him the most. The boy you had become a ghost to was haunting you, but somehow, you knew this would happen.

You only got a quick glance at him before you vanished, but it was enough of a glimpse to notice the chances. And God, were there changes. As teenagers did, both of you had grown out of your prepubescent bodies and into your young adult ones. And while you thought you looked relatively the same with a few upgrades here and there, Suguru had gone through a full-blown glow-up that set yours on fire. 

“Almost ready?” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your teammate followed your line of sight and smirked.  “Know him?”

You shrugged a bit too nonchalantly and said you thought he looked familiar but didn’t. “Shame,” she rested her shoulder on the wall with a dreamy gaze. “He looks like a dream.” 

You turned away before you threw up and realized that you were about to be called up next. The frazzled look on your team lead’s face let you know she’d been looking for you, and you took a synced deep breath when she spotted you. Her hands fell on your shoulders before you went up the stairs to the stage. “You’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. . . You don’t got this. 

Your legs felt like Jell-O walking up the short set of stairs to the black platform in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t been on one this big, in a venue so large, with an audience so vast and eyes in the hundreds. The row of judges sat below you, yet looked so intimidating. Heat engulfed you from the lights above—a literal deer playing the lion in the headlights. Sight zeroed in on the judges, you avoided the audience. Hoping that he isn’t still there because you knew seeing him WOULD freak you out. 

In the silence Between the shattered and oppressed dreams I found, I tore The roar Of my own voice Reclaiming the night

Your lines flowed out of you more naturally than water, eyes closed, unfocused, or hazy as you transformed your surroundings into the scene of your story—the journey from struggle to empowerment—the story of why you deserved to be here. In that moment, there was no one else—not even the judges—just you, the stage, and the song that belonged to you, even if it mattered to no one else.

But it mattered to him. And you didn’t see him until near the end of your set. The familiarity of your voice called him to confirm it for himself. To make sure it was you. He couldn’t believe it. You looked so…powerful. Fully fledged in your adulthood, kicking ass and taking names. Fierce and poetic. The same attitude as the girl he grew up with but in its full realization. 

Your voice cracked a little when you spotted him, completely awe-struck by you, but you played it off like it was part of your set. Damn the boy who had the same gawking eyes that used to watch the neighborhood kids—quiet and longing. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Suguru noticed. He knew. He still had some kind of effect on you. He could tell by how quickly you looked away. You still felt a way about him. He wasn’t just a nobody to you. But given the circumstances, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it by the time he took the stage. 

The mic fit snuggly between his fingers. It was rare that someone fully approached it without starting their piece first. You wondered where he was going with this, why he looked a bit tense, why he kept his gaze low—if it could be because of you. You held your breath and crossed your fingers. Once again, it was time to see him in action under the sweltering stage lights. And in seconds, you see your gold medal fleeting. You expected nothing less. 

His voice was lined with melody—a sweet, ethereal flow and a melodious string of vocabulary that wrapped you in an envelope and swaddled you like a baby. He sounded so mature. He sounded so much better…than you. 

The nerdy boy with too-big glasses and cracking voice had been replaced by a young man who towarded over the audience with a long side-bang and gauges in his ears. The red tie around his neck did look absolutely ridiculous like he said, but the rest of his navy blue uniform was tailored to perfection and fit like a glove.

He looked and sounded like where he came from. Money. But he was more than that. You found yourself hanging onto his every word as you watched from out of sight. He couldn’t see that he made your heart thump, but it was begging to fall out of your chest by the second.

This wasn’t about slam poetry anymore. Suguru had entered your arena. Shy, reserved, and knocking the ball out of the park. 

You came in 6th out of over 200 solo acts. Suguru came in 5th. 

You couldn’t even feel good about it because you knew what this meant.

Regionals took over the remainder of your sophomore academic year, but when summer rolled back around, it was time to look Suguru in the face again at almost every out-of-state competition. The West Coast was once a dream—now you dreaded touring the area because you knew he would be there. Performing. Waiting to chew you up and spit you out. 

Over the final two years of high school, you both spent most of your free time hopping around the nation and directly squaring off with each other.

Growing more apart as you did.

Silent hatred brewed and led the way every time you saw him—unmistakably written on your face. 

He chalked it up to the fact that the two of you had changed over the years, and maybe you’d simply outgrown him. But he never thought someone he used to call his best friend could give him a look so cold. With no other choice but to follow your lead, he kept his distance and pretended you weren’t there.

But the way he racked up medal after medal, winning over judges and audiences alike, was loud and clear. With him, you could only hope for second best. Though out-of-state competitions were just practice, losing to him in any capacity was a constant reminder that what was yours, wasn’t anymore. If it ever was. This time, anxiety burned through you instead of helping you. 

During junior year, one of the most pivotal moments of your poetic careers, you met face-to-face again at the Nationals. Both of your organizations fought their way to the semifinals, but as you held your breath waiting for the judges to call his team’s name, silence swept both of you when you realized that neither of you made it to the finals.

Again.

By that summer, you were tired, good and tired of inching closer and closer to third place, then second, but never first in out-of-state competitions where Suguru was in the mix. He was sucking the life out of you, but you couldn’t show it, especially when on stage where you knew he’d have his eyes glued to you.

Then, in August of your senior year, it finally happened; you returned to the Nationals, your final opportunity to win and go international. This time, it was close to your territory, in Georgia. All bets were off. The winner was a toss-up. And what a slap in the face to finally win….and tie with Suguru. 

You sulked on the inside the whole ride home while your teammates cheered and celebrated around you. To them, you’d just made history with your organization being the first in your state to go to the continental competition and have a shot at the World Poetry Slam Championship. 

To you, your freedom of expression kept escaping you. You felt yourself starting to mold into something outside of yourself. Some nights, you lay in bed, unable to sleep hearing Suguru’s rhythmic beats. Analyzing them. Judging them. Mimicking them. Wanting to be like the best. Your foundation was shaking.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the continental competition. Winning wasn’t the point; only earning one of the top 10 high scores to be automatically qualified for the WPSC. 

It was a dream come true.

 But how come it tasted so sour when you stood on that stage, your teammates going absolutely insane in the crowd at the news of you advancing to the international championship, but once again with a score just shy of Suguru’s? 

The two of you were declared the best in your country…and you were sulking. 

It shouldn’t matter; you're one of the top 40 poets in the WORLD, babe! And, for Godsake, a free plane ticket and trip to leave the country was waiting for you with your name on it! Belgian waffles and fountains of chocolate are more than enough reasons to get over yourself and this one-sided beef. 

But your dad still got an earful about it. Weekly chats with him almost always centered around poetry and Suguru ever since you first saw him sophomore year. The closer the world championship came, the sadder you sounded.

“What if I-”

Your dad stopped you. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What have I always said?”

You hugged the phone to your ear, rolling your suitcase back and forth between your legs in the airport terminal. “Bug,” your dad said after a moment’s silence.

You groaned. “We don’t say ‘what-ifs’. We say ‘what is’.”

“And what’s going to happen.”

You looked over to your team lead, soundly napping in the corner. It was the butt crack of dawn, and both of you had gotten to the airport way too early for your liking to make sure you didn’t miss your flight. Your first international flight. You actually had a passport, like??? 

So much had gone into getting you here. Energy. Time. Effort. Trust. Encouragement. People were rooting for you. They wanted to see you win. You wanted to see you win. 

“I’m gonna do my best.”

“Then you’re already a winner, Bug.”

God, your dad was gushy. And God, you loved him for it.

You didn’t feel so bad by the time you watched the sunrise in full bloom through your airplane window.

Pink, orange, and yellow washed over your face, making you feel so small. It wasn’t your first time in the sky, but definitely the most nervous you’d been.

Local papers, blogs, and newsletters featured your name—people knew you now; they had expectations.

A reputation had been made, and now you were in the fight of your life to keep it.

You sighed into your palm with your dad’s words in mind. David was determined to take Goliath down.

Belgium.was.cold.

Like you hadn’t packed nearly thick enough coats, cold. You felt like an idiot. 

You were a lyrical genius but couldn’t even put ‘Belgium in December’ and ‘it might be freezing’ together. But the lobby of your quaint little hotel with hot chocolate on tap was warm and inviting.

Your team lead handed you a cup, and you found yourself missing your teammates. They would have loved this and cheering you on at the top of their lungs.

The feeling was lonely—nerve-wracking. You were in the beautiful country of Germany for a competition, not leisure, so you couldn’t even relish in the fact that you were overseas. At least the food was good. Nervous eating made you binge until you felt sick the night before the competition, but a quick stroll in the brisk morning air made you feel better.

The bus ride to the venue felt like you were about to hop in a boxing ring. And the gloves were off.

Crossing the threshold into a space full of chosen people was like marveling at the diamonds of top-society. And you were one of them. Your team lead walked by and closed your gaping mouth with a smile. “Chin up, dear.” And disappeared into the crowd.

You had never met a foreigner before, and now you were being thrust into a venue full of different skin tones, accents, languages, and ages. It would’ve been even more overwhelming had it not been for the smell of coffee wafting through the air and reminding you of your last safe space for poetry before you went pro. With half an hour left until the competition, you thought exploring a little wouldn’t be a bad idea.  

The venue was dark and moody, perfect for setting the atmosphere and circulating the rising tension in your body. The main stage basked against the background of darkness under a single warm light that cast a circular glow. Your final destination. His burial sight. 

Suguru was nowhere to be found, but by the looks of the thick crowd shuffling in to fill their seats, it was easy to get lost. You met back with your team lead to run your rhythms a few more times. 

“Please don’t say it.” And she laughs, giving you a small nod and shoulder squeeze.

You still hear it in your head. You’ve got this.

But man, were these poets giving you a run for your money.

It was exhilarating and terrifying—a glaring reminder of why you were here among the best.

Translations were available on the screens behind the performers as you ping-ponged between their words and their expressions. Both demanded your attention and the crowd’s.

But so did you and Suguru when you both breezed through the semifinals.

For a second, you thought he hadn’t made it to the venue at all when you looked for him during your performance. But he let you and everyone else know he was in the building when he graced that stage. A hush fell over the space, and even you felt your face go soft while watching him.

He more than deserved that advance, but you weren’t done just yet.

After a brief intermission—the DJ wasn’t playing any games—you turned the corner to line up for the final round when you collided at 100mph with Suguru. 

“Fu— oh.” You held your arm as you looked at him—really taking him in. When he was on stage, you noticed he wasn’t in his usual uniform, but up close, the alternative was definitely a choice. The loose black tee ruffled as he smoothed his bang. 

“Sorry.” 

He rubbed his shoulder and kept his eyes low. His hands stuffed into his black cargos as he looked away, not wanting to upset you. Or see the look of resentment on your face. You could tell he knew he made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t know how different he wished things could have been. Hurt was written all over the face of your childhood best friend, and you never knew Suguru to be upset about anything. 

You cleared your throat. “Good luck.”

His head drew back like he’d seen a ghost. His lips parted. Then he kind of smiled, leaning against the wall—looking at you for a moment. You were so grown up and had accomplished so much. Suguru was fully aware that you hated his guts and was so proud of you—even if you didn’t need him anymore. 

He reached out to shake your hand. “Good luck, Twin.” 

Your heart thumped—no one had called you that in 4 years—sweet and low from honeyed lips. Suguru’s hand lingered in your air for a second before you gingerly took it. Soft and warm. Just like you remembered but stronger—firmer. The gloves were off for him, too.

Things were done a bit differently for the final rounds. Instead of holding deliberations for the end of the rounds after everyone had gone, everyone got their votes front and center from five random audience members. Paddles would fly in the air, displaying the scores to be tallied up and held until the end. Thank God you could do quick math. Numbers were racking up—bone-chilling talent was on full display.

You were amazed, laughing, shocked. Every set was different from the last. The crowd fell into a hush when one guy came on stage and laid straight down. Bareback to ground. Then started firing off rhythmic jokes that made you laugh at some and ponder the seriousness of others. Dark humor often has truth in it. 

Most sets were in a completely different language yet spoken so beautifully that you dug your nails into your palms to keep from crying. Emotion was universal. And you were feeling a lot of them.

Suguru walking onto the stage snapped you out of it as you watched from the other side of it. 

Though you’d just seen him a few minutes ago, this was a completely different light. Something had shifted.

Nice to meet you My name is Suguru Oh really? So is mine! It’s nice to meet you too.

Tell me what you’re like, what do you like to do? Lately, I’m not sure Was hoping for a breakthrough

In a world where masks are sticky and glue I’m lost in a maze with no clear view Doubt will cling like morning dew Caught in the storm of shifting hues

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought Suguru was having a mental breakdown.

Your jaw tightened.

It was the most unexpected thing you could’ve imagined that made you fidget with your clothes. And this was just the beginning of the journey through his paradoxical mind. His ship was sinking.

And he was taking you all down with him.

…I wear many faces each one feels new, But none will fit like I want it to Left with a voice that is small and untrue Burying deep I don't know what to do

In this mirror, I’m searching for clues, But this reflection is oddly askew. You scream through the glass, “Stay real and stay true!” But if you’re me, then…who are you?

You could hear a pin drop.

Suguru himself stopped breathing.

He couldn’t believe that he actually did it. He had never been so vulnerable.

If you thought you knew him and what he was going through before, you were left stunned and corrected. You saw a few of his scores float into the air throughout the audience, and though you couldn’t see them all, the few you did were perfect 10s. It would’ve been hell to go directly after that—thankfully, you had a few more people before you. 

Time crept closer and closer to your set—nervous sweats and fidgeting fingers kept you company. So much for keeping a hobby a hobby, you thought, pacing backstage. This wasn’t fun for you anymore; it was always supposed to be fun, easy, natural. But this was no longer just about you. It never was. It was about proving anyone who ever doubted wrong.  

When the host called your name, you made those 3 minutes on stage feel like your last.

Rain, rain don’t go away, You’re the only one who stays, Cross my heart and hope to die I promise that I will not cry

Build and build and There it goes! All for naught and just for show Hypnotize your guards to grave Leave the trust to fade away

This was your final plea to be heard by the world if you had ever made one. A letter to those who ever dismissed, ignored, or left you. Fire and brimstone poured from the pit of your soul—served up on a plate with the audience in mind but Suguru as the guest of honor. 

You thought he’d be away in the dressing room or at least within earshot, but no. He stood tall and bright, leaning against the door frame that led out of the hall, backlit by the warm lights that framed his figure, watching.

Listening.

Knowing the poem was partially about him.

You hoped it hurt him as much to hear it as it did for you to write it.

Deep breaths kept your voice steady—he wouldn’t hear it crack this time as you powered through your trembles. Bold and brash. Unleashing your truth. He saw it in your eyes and unconsciously did the only thing he knew to support you—the small nod of approval. 

Years had passed. Envy had pushed you to avoid him. He accepted that you no longer saw him as a friend, yet he still wanted to show his support. 

And it pissed you off.

…Lo and behold the savior's light Here to take another flight Take me by my desperate hand Lead how you only can Fragile like a gentle rose I will follow where you go.

Shadows whisper of the known What it feels to be alone.

You walked off stage before you could see your final scores. Whatever would be was now out of your hands—the relief felt agonizingly sweet.

Your team lead wrapped you in her arms as you silently cried. You didn’t know how long the tears had been building up, but the release was like a dam burst. Crying on your first international trip to Belgium. Nice. 

A final intermission was left, and the scores were tallied. You guzzled down some water and took a few breaths before meeting the rest of the contestants. Finally, finally, you and Suguru stood side by side again on stage. Your entire history had built up to this moment—ready to declare a winner. His pinky brushed yours, sending sparks to your belly like that day on his porch. Head down, you waited for a name to be called. Any name, every name, would be better than—

“Suguru Geto.”

And it rolled off their tongue naturally.

Suguru stiffened beside you like he couldn’t believe it himself as they motioned for him to come forward. In your mind, everything went quiet. You couldn’t feel anything but emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Not even anger.

It wasn’t.fucking.fair.

Before he moved a muscle to claim the spotlight, he turned to you, daring to offer his hand again. But it felt less like a “Job well done!” and more like a pitiful “I’m sorry.” And you had had enough of condolences. 

You turned away and left the stage in the midst of the raging applause for Suguru. No one else may have caught the cold shoulder, but to Suguru, it felt like he was trapped in ice. He could leave your life forever now for all you cared—this was your one, final chance to make things even between you two. But reality was a bitch. You couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

Yes, you’ve gotten to travel the country. Yes, you got the opportunity of a lifetime to go overseas just off your hard work alone, but all of that meant nothing if you were only second best. 

It was redundant. 

What was the point in even trying? You would never be good enough to stand on your own. Always under his shadow, drowning in his wake.

You brushed past your team lead, contestants—anyone trying to tell you how amazing you did. You couldn’t stand being bathed in lies and beelined out the back of the venue. 

“Fuck this.” Your breath escaped you as you pushed the door open.

The contrast of sharp, cold air whipped your face, making you realize you didn’t grab your jacket, but it was just what you needed to set the gravity of your situation. 

You were nothing. 

You bawled your fists.

And foolish for trying. 

Hyperventilating.

Look at what you came from. Look at what you get for trying to change that.

Hot, fat tears spilled down your face as you huddled in a corner of the building. You wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to shield the icy winds, but you already felt dead inside. Pathetic and worthless. It was out of your hands to change that.

A voice called after you, belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now. That soft, angelic voice that swooned the world and made your insides boil. Why couldn’t he just get it?? Why couldn’t he stay the fuck away??

You thought you had hidden yourself well by putting a bit of distance between the exit and the corner you tucked into, but he found you in seconds, tears dried on your face, crouching into your knees. He stood there gaping, completely overwhelmed by the state of you. For once, he was out of words.

“Well??” It was hoarse and cracking. 

“I-I’m—”

“Oh my God, pLEASE fucking save it!” You shook, burying your head into your arms.

It was enough that he got to bask in your pathetic breakdown with front-row seats to how bothered you were. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t enjoy it, you thought.

But Suguru was fed up with your bullshit and came looking to tell you about it. The final straw was leaving his extension of sympathy high and dry as you walked off stage. Giving him the ultimate “fuck you” in his moment of congratulations. 

He never understood why you hated him—the resentment, what happened, what he’d done. But he was about to make you explain yourself. 

“Get up.” Gentleness left his voice. He came closer and towered over your petite frame, cornering you so you couldn’t run away. “You think I don’t know how much this meant to you?”

When you didn’t answer, he crouched down to your level. 

“Hey.” 

You buried yourself deeper. 

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me.” You brushed him away, pressing your back into the wall as you stood up, shivering in the wind.

After a moment of looking your bitterness in the face, it finally clicked for Suguru. “You’re jealous.”

And that set you off. “HA!” It almost hurt to laugh. “Jealous?!” People could probably hear you inside the venue. But Suguru knew just what to say to get you to talk. 

“This whole time, I thought you were upset because I left, but…you’re just jealous.”

You snorted. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

“What? You don’t think I earned this?”

“Who knows? Mommy buys you everything.”

“Woah,” he held up a hand and laughed, “Is that what this is about?” 

Your cheeks burned hot, but you had egg on your face and had just spilled the beans. 

Fire raged in your chest. “You could have had anything else. Anything! Anything in the world, but you just had to take this from me.”

“How was I supposed to know??” he cut you off, “You stopped talking to me.” 

You felt a pang and fell silent—flurries of unread texts, unopened Snaps, and missed calls played in both of your minds. 

“How was I supposed to know anything? How was I supposed to have anything without making you feel bad?” 

“Me?” You scoffed. “Without me, you’d probably still be sitting on that dusty porch (you loved that porch), watching everyone go and live their lives.”

“I was like 7.”

“9.” You rubbed the goosebumps on your arms.

“Whatever, you think I owe you or something? You want a ‘thank you’?”

His tone made you shift, but you puffed up your chest. “No, I don’t need a thank you,” and your eyes narrowed, “I’m just not that impressed.”

He smirked, swinging his arms and looking away. “You’re full of it.”

“You’re not that talented.”

He cocked his head, raising a brow. You questioned his talent—clearly emotional and spewing lies— but it was a shot at his credibility nonetheless. 

His smirk faltered as he clasped his hands. “You wanna go?” And then he got closer. Your breath caught as he studied your face, his left arm shooting out to frame you, pinning you into the corner.

The heat radiating off his body should have been a comfort in the frosty air. But it made you feel other things, too. 

He leaned over you. “How would you like to eat your words? Fried? Or sautéed?”

His eyes bore into yours, daring you to buck up or back down. 

“Bite me, Get—”

Instead, he kissed, his lips capturing yours in a way that shot electricity down your spine. It was the first time he stole the breath right out of your body, and you swore you felt your pupils turn into hearts. For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more—make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him. You swooned and nearly staggered—knees weak and relying on the walls to keep you up when his hand cradled your hip to hold you. Your heart burst. You pulled away, leaving space between to see your heated breaths in the chilly air as he rested his forehead on yours—then slapped him.

“How’s that for poetry?” And left. 

note: this story took a TOTALLY different turn from what i originally planned (thanks Mac Miller) but omg it's sO much better and kinda fits into all of the sugu angst i have planned (oh how i love to hurt myself so). this story in particular was supposed to be like all smut and no exposition but um…things happen 😅 sO, all of the low-angst, ‘enemies’ to lovers lives in part 1, with a focus on the resolution in part 2: lovers who give in and chose each other arc while remaining focused on my original goal of making a smut that spotlights and actualizes realistic sex. learning each other, listening, patiently growing, and choosing.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My dads finally going out of town

I get 4 days of unimpeded dog training

[nanaslutt]

oh my god please make another part of gojo teaching us that was so good holy shit

Gojo teaches you how to touch him<3

Pt. 1 here

contains: fem reader, guided jerking off, experienced gojo, size kink if you squint, so much dirty talk, corruption kink, overstimulation, first time making out, gojo walks you through everything, cum eating

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Wanna learn how to touch a dick?” his question rang in your ears like a flash grenade had gone off. He was referring to himself right? You had to remind yourself how to breathe at how anxious his question made you. Touching yourself had made you embarrassed and self aware enough as it is, so touching someone else? The thought made you feel mortified.

Gojo must’ve picked up on your anxiousness because he used his big hands to rub comfortingly up and down your forearms, “Hey, if you’re not comfortable we can always stop here, you’ve already done so good.” He comforted.

Gojo might be unserious 99% of the time, but when it came to making you feel safe, he really nailed it. You came to the right person in asking for help with this kind of thing.

"N-no, I think I want to its just.. I dont know what im doing." You confess, even though he already knew. Gojo giggled, making the weight on your shoulders lift a bit at the sound, "Baby, I know, thats why Im gonna teach you, if you’ll let me." He smiles, leaning his body forward so you could see his face-- the visual of him smiling eased your nerves slightly.

"Right.. but what if I'm still not any good?" You say, shyly. "I almost came in my pants just watching you cum so.. I'm pretty sure you will do juuust fine." He confessed, making you huff out a laugh. "O-okay, what should I do?" You asked, turning your body so you were facing him, reaching over to grab your previously discarded panties while you waited for him to answer.

"The first thing you can do is forget about these," Gojo took your soaked panties from your hand, making you scoff as he twirled them around his finger before pocketing the fabric as quick as he snatched them, "The view of your little pussy is so cute, don't want these to get in the way of this eye candy." He praised, making you blush and look away from his intimidating gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face after pulling his hand out of his pocket-- caressing the side of your cheek comfortingly, "Come here." He instructed, sliding down on the headboard so he was propped comfortingly against the pillows, "On my lap," He adds when you hesitate to move twords him.

You situated yourself comfortably on his thighs, right under his crotch, you placed your hands on his lower stomach, staring at his intimidating bulge while you waited for his words to come. "You wanna start by touching it over his pants, just like you did for yourself." He instructs, speaking generally.

You picked your hands up from his stomach, hovering them a couple inches over his crotch before taking a deep breath and biting your lip. "How should I.. touch it?" you ask uncertainty laced in your words. "Wrap your hand around it the best you can and rub," He tells you, placing his hands on your thighs and rubbing his thumb on your skin for comfort.

You held your breath before you made contact with him, making him hiss air into his lungs through his teeth at the feeling of properly being touched after so much tension. You softly rubbed him up and down, gulping at how big he felt in your hand. "You can rub a little harder, it's not gonna break," He laughed, making you blush and whisper out a quiet 'sorry' as you briefly made eye contact with him, quickly averting your gaze back down to his crotch.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking him rougher now but still slowly, up and down. You took a peek at his face from under your lashes, watching him lick his lips and blink rapidly, his eyes focused on your hand at work on him.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that." He praised, keeping his eyes glued down between the two of you. You felt your face heat up when his cock jumped against your hand, it felt so hot even through his pants. The thought of seeing a real dick, unobstructed by fabric was making your head spin.

The man underneath you truly thought he would've came the second you touched him, it was a miracle from the heavens that he had managed to hold back and not bust in his pants at the first contact.

Your inexperience turned him on to no extent. He just loved the idea of corrupting you, showing you all of the amazing things you could feel, everything that you've been missing out on. He swore he would ruin you for anyone else—make you addicted to him so you never even thought about doing this with anyone else.

"D-does this feel good?" You ask genuinely, you had noticed his expressions and reactions to your touch—and they seemed like good ones—but you had no idea how someone was supposed to react when you touched them like this, hence why you asked for his confirmation.

"Feels better than you know." He grinned, his body running warmer the longer you stroked him over his pants. "It feels so big." You confessed, unaware of how your words went straight to his head and dick.

"Yeah?" his smirk grew as he felt his own ego inflate at your words, not like he needed that. "Yeah.." You meekly replied, "It keeps twitching too," you told him like he was unaware. "I know baby, means you're doing a good job." He praised once more, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Wanna see it?" He asked after he deemed that you had been touching him outside his pants for an adequate amount of time. You swallowed hard, stilling your hand on his cock as it continued to jump under the weight of your palm. "Yes, please." You answered, sliding your hands up his shirt and feeling his hard abs before you slid them back down to hold onto the hem of his pants. "Should I take your boxers off too, or?" You question, hesitating.

He smiled at you, giving you a short nod. You grabbed his pants and boxers alike, beginning to pull them down his body— gojo lifted his hips up to aid your efforts, jaw dropping in an open-mouthed smile when his hard cock sprung up and slapped against his abdomen.

Your mouth opened in a small o shape, running dry at the sheer size of his now unobstructed cock. There was a string of pre that had already dropped down against his abdomen, connecting the two.

It looked as thick as it felt, a nice upwards curve to it, and the tip was flushed a pretty pink color. It was the prettiest and only dick you’d ever seen.

“You like what you see, cutie?” he teased, making his cock jump as you stared between the appendage and his penetrating gaze. “Fuck.. y-yeah.” you confessed, feeling yourself start to throb between your legs at the new visual.

“Go ahead an touch it, the same as you did before.” Gojo instructed. You slowly reached out, wrapping your hand around his length, noticing that your fingers couldn’t wrap all the way around his girth.

The man underneath you couldn’t resist as he thrusted his hips up into your hand, biting his lip at the direct contact. “Your hand is so fucking soft” He praised, “Go ahead and spit on it for me, it doesn’t feel very good when it’s dry.” he told you.

The gears in your head were still turning at what you were actually doing right now. Without saying anything, you leaned down a bit, collecting the saliva in your mouth before you spit right onto his cockhead, making him gasp.

You brought your hand to his tip, rubbing it around in circles before sliding your hand down the length of his cock and coating it in your spit, easing the slide. “Fuuuck, just like that, shit-“ Gojo cursed, tipping his head back against the pillows and squeezing his eyes shut.

“S-squeeze harder at the tip,” he instructed, remembering he was supposed to be teaching you, so staying silent and moaning probably wouldn’t do you much good. “T-the tip is more sensitive than the rest of the cock, so make sure to pay more attention to it.” he tells you.

“Is it kinda like the clit?” You ask, which makes him giggle before he responds, “Sorta..” he answeres, staring at the ceiling in thought before he continues, “Yeah actually, pretty similar, but if you spend too much time on just the tip it can get a little too sensitive.” He explains.

“Sensitive how?” you ask, continuing your slow but heavy strokes on his cock, using the knowledge he just told you in squeezing harder against his tip. “Why don’t I show you?” he says.

“Take one hand and keep stroking me just like you’re doing, with the other, lay your palm flat- yeah just like that- then curl your hand over the entirety of my tip, and rotate your wrist in circles.” Gojo instructed, digging his nails into your thighs prematurely as he braced himself for the intense overstimulating pleasure that was about to come.

“This won’t hurt you right?” you ask, getting your hands into place but keeping them still as you awaited his answer. “You’re so sweet~” he cooed, “I’ll stop you if it’s too much.”

With that, you started, quickly jerking the length of his cock while rotating your wrist over his dick in quick circles. Immediately his body started reacting, back arching and abs clenching uncontrollably as he bit his lip and dug his nails deeper into your skin to keep himself grounded.

“K- haaah- keep g-going-“ he moaned out, his legs jerking and twitching underneath you as you kept up your antics. “Fuck! f-fuck-“ The white haired man squeezed his eyes shut as his body spasmed without his permission.

Your cunt was throbbing at how you were able to bring a man as strong as Gojo to this state. “Ngh~” he was whining and moaning against the sheets, head thrashing back and forth as he tried to keep his voice down.

You never wanted this to end, you finally understood what he meant when he said he was worked up from just watching you play with yourself, as you felt your cunt clench, slick dripping down your leg from your tight hole.

His large hand came down to stop your wrist, panting heavily he spoke, “O-okay, okay- fuck, that’s enough.” He groaned when the pleasure quickly became too much. "S-sorry, are you okay?" you choked, once again making him smile at how sweet you were. "I'm just fine baby, it's just a little overwhelming," He said, releasing your wrist and placing his hand back on your thighs.

"Did so fucking good though, listened just like I told you to." He smirked, gripping your thighs and making you look up at him through your lashes. You pouted out your bottom lip a bit in embarrassment, trying your best to not look away from his intimidating gaze. "Alright, class is back in session, go ahead and pick up where you left off." He continued.

You released your hand that was caressing his tip, going back to jerking him off steadily with the one hand. "Don't forget about the balls either, you just wanna massage them softly," he instructs after a couple seconds of your continued ministrations. You nod, acknowledging his words before you spit on your other hand, and bring it down to his warm balls.

"Oh shit- haha- didn't even have to tell you to spit." He says, amazement laced in his words, "You had n-nothing to worry about, you're doing so fucking good." He reassured when you started to expertly roll and massage his sack in your hand, timing your motions perfectly with the jerking of his cock.

"Cmere baby," He asked, growing needier and needier at the more stimulation you provided him with. You tilted your head at him, confused, making him laugh. "Come give me a kiss, pretty thing." He clarifies. You hesitate slightly, You've kissed one or two people before, but you've never made out with anyone per se, which is what you were assuming Gojo wanted right now.

"Follow my lead, I'll show you how to make kissing feel as good as sex." He boldly said, making you blush. You released your hold on his balls, opting to place your hand against his hard chest for stability as you leaned forward, not stopping your ministrations on his cock. He gave you a toothy grin, his big hands coming up to grab your waist before he opened his mouth, huffing out a small laugh before he pressed your lips together.

He immediately took the lead, moving his lips against your own, massaging his soft lips with his. He groaned into the kiss, which made you reciprocate the sound, whining into his mouth. Where you normally would've pulled away by now, Gojo instead opened his mouth against you and pressed another kiss to your lips, repeating the action, and continuing the kiss.

You unawarely squeezed his cock harder at the stimulation, you had no idea that kissing could feel so erotic. When Gojo felt your fist tighten up around him, he pulled back half an inch from the kiss, panting slightly against your lips before he spoke needily, "Faster baby, give it to me faster." He rushed before conjoining your lips once more, rougher this time.

You felt him poke his tongue out and lick against your lips, "Open your mouth for me, baby," He said to you between kisses, to which you complied. He took this new opportunity to lick his tongue into your mouth. You thought French kissing would feel gross and unpleasant, but this was nothing of the sort, it really felt like he was fucking your mouth. He expertly massaged the inside of your mouth with his warm appendage, making you throb between your legs.

You remembered his words; which had told you to follow his lead; as you reciprocated, darting your tongue out and intertwining it with his, and it felt even better. "Mmmmm" Gojo hummed against your lips when he felt your tongue join the fun. Hips lips suddenly attached to your bottom one, slowing down the kiss briefly as he sucked it into his mouth and bit it between his teeth, smirking before he let it go, chasing your lip as it bounced back to your face.

You had switched up your technique on his cock just seconds ago, rotating your wrist over his entire cock, and pulsing your grip to imitate your pussy walls, giving him harder strokes when you slid your hand down him; you were having fun with it, and it must've been working.

Gojo pulled away from the kiss, allowing you to sit back up as he panted heavily, his cock was steadily dripping more and more pre onto your fingers, easing the slide against his cock while you jerked him off. "Did you like that?" He asked, referring to the kiss. "Y-yeah, I didn't know kissing could feel so good," you replied honestly, making him smile.

"I know~ made your pussy feel all needy again, huh?" he said, having noticed the wetness that was coating your inner thighs, his words sending a wave of sudden awareness through you, making you want to cower away. "Aww, don't get shy on me baby, look at me," He started, "I'm the one getting my cock jerked off, about to fucking burst," The man giggled, "If anyone should be embarrassed it's me~"

"You're about to cum?" You asked, those words being the only ones that made it into your dizzy head. "Yeah, and it's all cos' of you, didn't even have to give you that much i-instruction, you're a pro." he praised, making you look away from his gaze and instead focus on his cock in your smaller hand. "You wanna make me cum?" He asked.

"Wanna watch you cum.." You replied, making him laugh breathlessly as he felt your words go straight to his balls, "Oh don't worry, you will," He informed you, tipping his head back once more against the pillows, and letting himself really feel as you stroked your fingertips along his lower abs, while keeping the steady and mind numbing pace on his cock.

"Fuck, wish I was cuming inside your pussy," He suddenly moaned, catching you off guard with his words as he gripped your hips with his large hands. "Would fill you up so fucking full." He babbled, inching closer and closer to his high with every stroke, slightly thrusting up into your warm hand.

proofread-----

"If I try hard enough, your little hand starts to feel like your perfect fucking cunt," He groaned through his teeth, "but I just know you would be so much warmer and wetter- fuck-." He moaned at his own words, working himself up as he dropped his chin forward to look at your hand on him, his jaw opened in a small o shape.

"You want that? Huh? Want me to split you open on my cock and fill you up with my cum?" His words had gotten so filthy and shameless, and so fast, it was giving you whiplash. You nodded meekly, not trusting your voice right now as his words alone made you feel like you were going to cum. But that wasn't good enough for Gojo. "Gotta hear you say it baby, need you to tell me you need it." He groaned through his teeth, making your body move above him as he thrust his hips upwards, helping you fuck his cock with your hand.

"Y-yes Satoru I want it." You said, meaning every word, "What do you want?" He rushed out, trying to hold back from cumming to hear you say those magic words. His balls and shaft alike were twitching so strongly against your hold, getting ready to release his seed. "W-want you to come inside me, please give it t-to me." You blushed at your own words, the embarrassment worsening when he groaned shamelessly at them. His pretty eyes rolled back in his head as his orgasm crashed down on him. "Fuck- coming-" he warned before you felt his warm seed start to cover your hand.

Long rope after rope of his cum coated your hard, making you moan with him at the erotic sight. His abs were clenching under your hand, body twitching and back arching slightly, similar to how your own did when you had cum, as you fucked him through his high. You kept jerking him off even after the spasms of his body ceased, and his cock started to soften in your hold.

His large hand shot up and gripped your wrist harshly. "C-careful," He laughed, heaving air into his lungs, "It's so fucking sensitive right after we cum." He said.

"Shit s-sorry," You blushed, releasing his dick from your soiled hand as you stared at his seed that covered it, amazed by how much there was. "Don't be sorry baby, I haven't cum that hard in my life, and all just from your hand" He laughed, rubbing his large hands up the length of your torso while he let himself catch his breath, his soft cock resting against his tummy.

An idea popped into your head, remembering how he had sucked off your cum from your own fingers after he made you finish, and it made you wonder what he tasted like too. Absentmindedly you brought your hand up to your mouth, not paying attention to the man below you as he watched your every movement with bated breath, knowing exactly what you were about to do.

You let your tongue poke out from your open mouth, licking up his seed at tasting him on your tongue. It was bitter, but not overwhelmingly so, there was something almost sweet about it, which made you suck your fingers completely into your mouth, swallowing his seed that coated them.

Gojo watched with a slack jaw at the show you were putting on, his cock twitched to life as he watched you eagerly lick up his cum. "Fuuuck." He drew, bringing your attention back to him as you popped your fingers out of your mouth, giving him a small smile that made his brain short-circuit.

"I have so much to teach you." He grinned, caressing the side of your face as you closed your eyes, and leaned your face into his hand.

pt.3

[mummelthecryptid]

tumblr if it was ghosts

@gwensy look at my ghost dashboard

🏚️cunty-phantom follow

ough my downstairs neighbors are soooo annoying "can you stop rattling your chains at 3am" this and "some people actually still need to sleep" that. first of all. when you get to my state of decomposition youll understand. second of all. how else am i supposed to haunt this attic, bitch? by being nice and polite?

👻coo0ochie-haunter follow

some of you (not naming names) don't know how good you have it. oooo the straight up castle youre haunting doesn't have enough leaks to drip water through creeply when it rains? well my fucking graveyard got bulldozed and turned into a shitty gasstation. so maybe be more grateful next time

#vague #rant

🏰lonelylady follow

i just wish the couple renovating my castle to turn it into an air bnb hadn't closed up all the leaks in the roof :/

#i really liked the sounds the rain made when it dripped through #i AM exited for the new company though :3

🌲slimy-spectre follow

can we honestly destigmatise ectoplasm? its a normal part of being a ghost, especially for those of us with psychic powers and im so sick of nobody talking about it because they think its "gross" or "too slimy".

👻coo0ochie-haunter follow

just say you dont practice personal hauntgiene and stop posting about your disgusting habits on hauntblr smh

🌲slimy-spectre follow

someone clearly watched too much ghostbusters

#also thats literally not how it works AT ALL

🌑ghoulishous follow

boring victorian dresses are OUT, old bedsheets are IN.

#i know the whole "ghosts wear bedsheets" thing is a huge misconception by humans #but they did kinda pop off with it #may i also say #they make me feel extremely gender

[catmask]

before i go to bed - can i confess something?

learning how to do art skills as an adult i didnt have the space for as a kid is terrifying. im not of the mindset that, when i see artists more talented than me who are much younger than me that i get upset. its the opposite really - i feel breathtaken watching everyone whos already got a foot in the race i feel like i was just able to tie my shoes for and start running. im happy for them, and im happy for me too - i WANT to do this, but i feel so embaressed for wanting it at the same time.

i dont think my art is even bad. i dont really think 'bad' art exists to begin with; objectively i can measure my skill and see improvement from where i began. i guess its more like i feel that my art should be more impressive for my age... or that i should have more to show for it. but if i say that, then what if someone older than me, or someone who feels behind me, hears me say that? i dont feel this way about anyone else but myself, but negative self talk can still seep out and effect others around you.

i think im coming to accept that being scared is a state i need to get used to and accept as a sign im moving forward. never trying anything hard IS 'safe', but 'safe' and happy arent always the same thing. some times you need to not be 'safe' to move towards being happy. sometimes you wont be either, just on the road between the two.

i am really proud of myself, and i think im moving forward to thinking a little better of myself too. and the truth is i am happy, because as long as i can keep drawing and sharing that with everyone thats all i really want. maybe i dont need to be impressive as long as im always getting better, maybe i dont need to be super talented as long as im always doing my best and remembering to smile.... i dont think thats a life to be ashamed of at all

[seokmn]

pairing: joshua x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k words

warnings: mentions of drinking, brief moment of shirtless joshua, suggestive moment if you squint reaaally hard

joshua took a sip of his drink and pointed his index finger at you, “what do you think of me? no sugarcoating”. you also took a sip of your drink and gave him a small nod before speaking, “i think youre cool”

“seriously? cool? just ‘cool’?”

you shrugged your shoulders, “what else do you want me to say?”. joshua looked away and pouted, his voice was as quiet as a whisper, “i thought you were going to say a little bit more”

you rolled your eyes, “i think youre really polite and kind with people. hm… i dont like the way you always find a new song to obsess with and sing the same verse for days every single time, but at the same time, i love your voice, it gives people comfort. your voice is like a hug after a stressful day.” you took a long sip of your drink before continuing, “i also like when you smile and how your eyes disappear. let’s see… i like when you always try to reassure me that everythings fine when i mess something up and when you look at me when im looking at you and your dimples come out. oh and-“

“i think thats enough” joshua cut you off and chuckled. he shook his head slightly, finding funny how you started yapping about the things you like about him. that being a sign that you were starting to get tipsy. “if you keep going ill think i like me or something”

“okay, my turn now. look at me” you leaned forward, your chest glued to the table as you looked at joshua’s face intensely. joshua smiled a bit and leaned forward as well, looking at you. “‘kay, im looking”

“do you see someone looking back at you or do you see someone thats in love with you?” you asked, eyes narrowing as you tried to analyze his reaction. on the other side, joshua’s smile died and he suddenly got shy. he drank all of his drink in one sip and rubbed the back of his neck. “so… youre in love with me?”

you just nodded with an affiliative smile on your face, “yes. very much so”

joshua could feel his cheeks heating up. he stood up and walked towards you, he placed his hand on your shoulder and looked down at you, “im afraid youre getting drunk so i guess its time for us to leave, i dont want to keep saying things that you might regret about tomorrow.”

“but its your birthday and i just confessed to you… dont you feel the same?”

“maybe…” he chuckled, “ill only admit it when you tell me about your feelings while being sober. now lets go, ill take care of you”

you huffed, “fiiiine… but you know, that is so not fair!”

“its my birthday, so its fair if i say so and im telling you thats soo fair”

he paid for the drinks and food you two consumed and went back to his place with you. he let you sleep on his bed while he slept on the couch.

you could hear the birds chirping and feel the sun on your face. you slowly sat up, frowned and placed your hand on your head, feeling it hurt. “gosh…” you looked around and noticed the obvious, that wasnt your bedroom. panic was slowly starting to increase, but it died as soon as you heard a voice singing in the background. you knew that sweet voice too well. you were at joshua’s home.

you walked towards the voice and you found him shirtless and cooking. you blushed a little and cleared your throat to make your presence known, he turned around and looked at you, giving a smile that warmed your heart. “good morning, did you sleep well?”

“morning.. yea, i slept very well, but now my head is killing me” he chuckled, “that wont be a problem anymore” he said as he placed a bowl of hangover soup in front of you. you mumbled a thank you and started eating it, enjoying the taste.

“is it good?”

“ah, yes. its really good! you know what else would be good?” joshua raised his eyebrow, waiting for you to tell him. “a shirt”

the man laughed and smirked, “cmon, i know you love it. but okay, ill put on a shirt”. you watched him put on a white shirt, but you were with a puzzled expression on your face, why would he say that? was he only being extra or did you say something last night? “what you mean? i dont love it!”

“oh, so you dont remember about last night?” he had a cocky smile on his lips and your eyes widened. last night? what did you do or say last night? you looked at him with a blank expression for a few seconds, trying to process everything. once you thought you got it, you immediately gasped and placed your arms on your chest and on your lap, as if you were trying to hide your body.

joshua’s eyes widened as well and he shook his head, completely in panic. “no! its not what youre thinking!! i even slept on the couch!” he said as he pointed at the couch with some pillows and a blanket. you looked at the couch and let out a deep breath you didnt know you were holding.

“then why would you say such a thing?!” you looked at the soup and muttered while mixing it with the spoon, “saying like we did something…”

“so you dont remember what you asked me last night? whoa… you really cant drink alcohol”

“what i asked you…?” you tried your best to remember about the night before. a few memories started to come together and your jaw started to slowly drop as you remembered the stupid answers you gave to his questions and the even more stupid question you asked him. you hid your mouth with your hand and looked at joshua in complete shock.

“looks like someone remembers now” he said with a smirk on his face, crossing his arms as he leaned on the kitchen counter. “i-uh…”

“was it true or just drunk words?”

“why do you wanna know?” you raised your eyebrow. you were getting defensive because you didnt know what to answer. would he dump you? would your friendship with him be ruined because of your feelings?

joshua tilted his head and smiled gently, “i think i deserve to know, dont i?”. you scoffed while looking away before looking back at you, “maybe it was true, so what? huh? its not like im gonna chase you or try to make you fall in love with me or some shit like that!”

he just let out a calm sigh and took the bowl of soup away from you. “hey! if you dont feel the same just say it, you dont have to take my food away!”

“get your coat”

“woah-“ you scoffed, feeling offended, “youre kicking me out? is that it?”

“nope, im going to take you on a date. your feelings are reciprocated and as a late birthday gift we’ll be enjoying a really good time together. and who knows, maybe in three months you wont have to pretend to not like to see me shirtless anymore”

you rolled your eyes, not being able to hold back your smile. you grabbed your coat and ran to him, interlocking your arm with his. “that sounds good, i like it. and just to let you know, i never said i dont like to see you shirtless” he chuckled as he opened the front door, “i know. but its nice to tease you”

you playfully hit his arm and he laughed. “lets go?”

“lets go.”

[kittyhui]

“we should stop” trope with cheol

no smut, just suggestive MDNI

content tags: mutual friends to lovers (???sorta), cheol is a smoker (dont smoke..), reader is introverted, mentioned alcohol use, making out, being a bit freaky outside, cheol is hot

meeting your friends’ friends always had your introverted head reeling. “do i have to go?” you whine to jeonghan, one of your closest friends.

“no but you really should leave the house, y/n” he laughs. he was right. it was only a small get together at joshua’s (your other friend) apartment, it would only be a few other people, “you’ve met most of them anyways. plus you can stay with me and kyeomie as long as you want” he smiles at you as you finally agree to coming along.

…

surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you had thought. even though it was getting tiring dokyeom pulling you to meet all the people you haven’t been introduced to before, it was manageable.

“oh! i almost forgot” dokyeom says, looking at you, “you need to meet, cheol” he grabs your arm again, walking you over to another person youve never seen before. “coupsie!”

you watch as the man dokyeom calls for turns around, red hair looking like fire around his head, arms looking oh so delicious in the black shirt he was wearing, and his lips; god his lips, looking cherry red like he had just bitten them so hard they bled. he looked so intimidating with a scowl on his face, until he looks at kyeom and pouts.

“i told you to stop calling me thatttt” he sulks, lip jutting out. he finally seems to notice your presence, raising his thick brow before speaking again, “is this your friend you were talking about?”

“im sorryyy, the name is so cute, cheol. but yea! this is y/n!” dokyeom introduces, your face heating up with nervousness at the redhead staring down at you.

“hi. nice to me you…” you murmur, extending your hand for a handshake. what you didn’t expect is for him to take it and pull you a little closer to him.

“sorry” he laughs, “what did you say.. its too loud in here” you repeat yourself, stuttering over your words, before he finally pulls away, hearing the complains from dokyeom about cheol ‘teasing his friend’. “I’m seungcheol by the way. most of my friends just call me cheol tho. i prefer that.” you smile again before dokyeom pulls you away again to meet someone else.

….

the rest of the night went by smoothly, and now you finally had the chance to slip away from all the noise and step outside for a breather after having a bit too much to drink. the summer breeze felt refreshing compared to the heat coming from the apartment you were just in and you could finally take a deep breath in, admiring the night sky.

“too many people in there for your tastes?” you jump at the sudden voice, turning to see the red haired man from earlier, “sorry! i didn’t mean to startle you. it’s too many people in there for me too, if that makes you feel better” he smiles at you, before turning back to face the sky, putting a lit cigarette to his lips and inhaling the smoke.

“you know thats bad for you, right?” you say, backtracking when you see his eyes widen and him beginning to burn it out, “no its fine! i dont mind.. sorry im bad at small talk” you look down at your fingers, playing with them, still feeling his eyes on you.

“you’re cute.” he laughs. he takes another inhale from the cigarette before sitting on the steps of the apartment building. “sit with me” he pats the concrete next to him, signaling you to come.

as you sit close to him, you can smell the mix of smoke and his cologne on his clothes, the scent of them seemingly driving you insane, the alcohol running through your body making you scoot even closer into him, as if to try and smother yourself in the fragrance. “you smell really good” you say without thinking, immediately burning hot in embarrassment at the reality of what you just said. he turns to you, laughing loudly.

“thank you, cutie.” he smiles, looking into your eyes, “and you look very pretty. thought that since dokyeom introduced me to you. was trying to get you alone but hannie was protecting you like a mama bear.” you laugh before his words sink into your brain.

“what- what did you want to do when you got me alone?” you question, eyes looking him up and down. you were beyond close to each other at this point, you had practically one leg draped over his thigh, and you could feel his hand on it, steadying you a bit.

“you know what i wanted to do.” he says, eyes shifting towards your lips before looking back into your own, “i can still do it now.. if you’d like.” you only murmur a faint ‘yea’ and his lips touch yours, hands cradling your head, pressing you closer and closer together.

your mind sobers up a bit, realizing that you were currently outside, in front of your friends house, kissing a guy you met barely an hour ago. “we. should. stop.” you breathe out inbetween kisses. you know you don’t want to stop but your left brain was screaming at you to think logically.

“we- can. stop. if you want” cheol slurs out, lips kissing the corner of yours, a smirk resting on them. the moment you shake your head, he pulls you onto his lap fully, having you straddle his thighs. “you’re so pretty..” he sighs out, lips gliding down your neck, sucking a few times, leaving marks in their wake. your hands rest in his fiery locks, combing your fingers through them every so often as he pulls whines out of your mouth.

“cheolie…” you sigh out, grinding lightly on his thigh, testing the waters. he groans at the sight, pulling you in for another kiss before- ring ring ringgg

“fuck-“ he groans looking down at his phone now long abandoned along with his burnt out cigarette you didnt even realize was gone, “its shua. hold on, pretty. yea. uhhuh? oh. oh okay- okay bye.” you try to listen in but your attempts were futile. he hangs up the calls, lowering his phone and putting his hands on your waist. “‘m sorry, pretty. soonyoung is currently um- puking his guts out in a bedroom.. i’ll spare the details, but i have to help shua clean the mess.” he sighs, looking at you with guilty eyes.

you look at him a bit disappointed but nod, slipping off his lap. “its fine, cheol. go deal with that.” you smile and he smiles back before kissing your lips wetly once again.

“give me your number first. just incase i don’t see you before you leave.” he shyly speaks again, opening his phone again for you to type in your number.

“alright, here” you say, finishing up your contact information. “text me whenever.. now go! there’s vomit for you to clean” you giggle as he stands up and rushes inside again.

finally standing up again yourself, your legs feel like jelly as you walk into the apartment again, spotting jeonghan and dokyeom on the couch. “hey” you say as you sit down next to them.

“oh my lord, we were wondering where you were.” jeonghan say before looking at your state and gasping, “you look a mess? who were you with??” dokyeom laughs as your face heats up again.

“n-no one..” you splutter, biting your lip remembering the man you were just with. they roll their eyes at you, whining at the lack of details you were spilling as a ping comes from your phone.

Unknown Number

Hey. This is Seungcheol.

Want a ride home?

you can hear your friends gasp, obviously reading your messages at the same time.

You

yea :) would love that <3

you send your response and jeonghan nudges you teasingly, “seriously, choi seungcheol? that loser??” all you do is smile dumbly, excited to see him once more.

[mxsticmayhxm]

want a guy who gets into my head and rearranges it without me knowing. someone i really, genuinely trust, maybe someone ive known for years. when i need comfort, i go to him. he always knows the right things to say.

thats why id go to him if i ever broke up with a girl.

and im someone who likes touch— hed know that. im sitting on his bed while hes bent down, brushing my hair behind my ear. hes so sweet, it makes me emotional all over again.

“theres nothing to worry about anymore," he whispers in a low voice, soft on the ears. its easy to listen to, i cant help but lean closer. his hand rests on my cheek.

"im here, hun. you dont have to think about it." its quiet in his room, just the ticking of his alarm on his nightstand, rhythmic in its clicks. soothing to listen to paired with his voice.

"in fact, you dont have to think about anything," he says, staring into my eyes. my head tilts. "we can stay here for a while. you can just relax, i know its all stressful." i find myself nodding. "so, you dont have to think."

"i dont have to think?" he smiles encouragingly.

"thats right. no need to."

"sounds... kinda nice."

"it does, doesnt it?" his hand moves to trace small shapes and circles on my thigh, just barely grazing the surface. "not a care in the world, nothing weighing your mind down. like your mind is a clear blue sky; all the clouds just slip away."

"mmm," i nod again. see, he always knows what to say.

"and since you dont have any thoughts to focus on, all you need to focus on now is your breathing. slowing it down, keeping it deep." my breaths start to follow along, and my eyelids start to get heavy. he gives me another smile as he watches them flutter. "thats alright, you can close them. you could picture that clear blue sky. the warm sun on your skin, making your body and mind melt slowly, dripping down."

dripping down, melting, warm, it all sounded so nice. all i wanted was to follow his voice into that sun, let it... "...envelop me whole, taking away anything left weighing me down." i feel my head slowly fall toward his shoulder, landing in the crook of his neck. his arms wrap around me.

"no girls, no exes, nothing like that here. just you and me. everything else just slips from your mind like they werent even there to begin with."

like they werent even there to begin with.

~~~

i dont remember how long i stayed, but it was dark when i left. i came over the next day-- i had nothing better to do, i knew id just wallow in my room if i was given the chance. i felt like being with him would make me feel better, and next thing i knew, he was welcoming me in through the front door. he already had calm music playing in the background and warm tea set out for both of us. he sat me on the couch and passed over blankets to bundle myself up in before sitting down next to me. we talk for hours. the time just passes me by so quickly.

"i dont know why you only ever dated girls," he said, laughing a bit. i frowned.

"i... ive been a lesbian all my life. ive only ever wanted to date girls."

"well, sure, but nothings ever really lasted, has it?" im taken aback, straightening in my seat a bit.

"im sorry? does that matter?"

"relax." my back fell to the cushions again without thinking. "youve always been so much closer with guys. i dont want to assume anything, but you just get along better with men, isnt that right?” i stare at my mug, feeling his words sit in my mind for a moment. i guess he had a point.

“i guess. doesnt mean ive ever wanted to date them.”

“doesnt mean you arent compatible with them, though,” he grinned, taking a sip of his drink, before looking at you seriously. “i just want you to find the right person. there wasnt any love in your last relationship, you told me so.” i dont really know what hes talking about, but i dont know what to say, so i stay quiet. “i know you. i think a man would be able to love you much better than any girl could. arent you even the least bit curious?”

i couldnt help but admit that, after hearing him ask about it, i kind of was. i nodded.

“maybe after a bit. well see. i need some time.” he nodded and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“its okay, i get it.” he turned to the window, seeing how dark it was. “its pretty late, how about you just rest on the couch? its been an emotional few days. i could make breakfast in the morning.” my head was already lolling to the side at the idea.

“that sounds good. thank you,” i look into his eyes, “really, thank you. this all mean a lot, youre always there for me.”

there was a look in his eyes that i couldnt make out.

“exactly, hun. now,” he passes a pillow, “you rest, and ill wake you in the morning.”

as he left, he changed the music playing in the background to something slower, deeper. it seemed to worm its way into my head quickly. i fell asleep before i could even think about it, feeling him pull the blankets a bit tighter around me.

~~~

i ended up staying for a few days. i didnt know what id do if i left— its not like i had a girlfriend to run to anymore. so i rested at his home, even when he left for work. he always insisted.

“i promise im fine with it, hun,” hed say. “besides, im a good friend. what are good friends for?”

there wasnt much to remember about each day; they passed like syrup or molasses, and trying to think back on what happened felt like wading through the sticky mixture. when he went to work, i listened to the radio he had in the living room— he had a cd rack full of albums by people and bands id never heard of, but each track kept me more and more peaceful. when he came home, time was fluid. it didnt exist.

i was close with him before my breakup, and even closer now. ive found weve gotten closer physically as well, like somethings changed in our friendship. i hug him more, we half cuddle on the couch. ive even started holding his hand every so often. the touch, the connection between us just centers me so well.

his words, too. theyre soft. they find their way into my head and sink into my being somehow. i dont know what hed do without me.

were having a meal in the kitchen. i finished but just wanted to sit with him longer.

“gosh, how long has it been since your breakup?” he asks, bringing a fork to his lips.

i stop for a moment. i try to think. my breakup was…

i dont know. i dont know when my breakup was or how long ago. i dont even know what day or month it is.

“ah, doesnt matter,” he laughs. and suddenly, it didnt matter.

“have you thought more about it all? dating guys?” i played with my hands. i had. a lot.

and it was with him.

i dont know what it was. maybe it was the proximity, or the kindness, or the looks, or an amalgamation of all of it. but when i sat around all day, the only thing on my mind was him.

the warmth he brought when he sat next to me in our deep conversations at night. the soft touches. the smiles he would give me. just thinking about him now had me staring at his hands as he used his utensils. large hands, hands id like to hold, hands that could hold me tight, hands to undress me and suck on and use to—

“well, have you?” he says, breaking me out of my daydreaming.

“uhm. a little bit.”

“a little bit? no, youve been talking about it a lot more recently, isnt that right?”

i shook my head for a moment, trying handle the fuzzy sensation that flooded my brain. it was hard to remember what i was talking about now.

“i know i go on and on about dating guys now, but… i just want to wait for the right one to come along.”

“hmm,” he hums, nodding thoughtfully. “im sure youll find him soon. what kind of guy are you looking for?”

“i dont know, someone who really cares for my needs. when i dated women, they never really understood what i wanted. a man would know best about what i need in a relationship.”

his eyes gleamed at what i had said. i dont know what cued it, though. i was just being honest.

“tell me more.”

“dating men would just be much simpler for me. i cant love a woman, but i can serve a man.”

something didnt seem right, but the thought fell away into the pervasive fuzziness. his eyes looked so beautiful right now, all i could do was stare into them.

“thats right, you can serve a man. did you ever love women to begin with?”

i think back on all my ex girlfriends. i think of our intimacy, our dates, and i feel nothing. i think of what i could have, and all i feel is love for him.

“no. no, i never loved women. i could never be attracted to one. i…” my words drifted off. i was supposed to say something there. what was i supposed to say?

“youre straight, arent you, love?”

oh. that felt different. straight. i found myself starting to grin. straight, i… i was straight.

“im straight.”

“say it again for me.”

“im straight.”

“again.”

“im straight.”

“good,” he says, “good girl.”

my brain melts from my head. theres not much to think of past that.

[withlovemark]

you were never mine

warning(s): suggestive

pairing: minho x reader

words: 400+

an: hi friends, anyone here watched xo kitty? i know this is a little different from your usual steve harrington fics but i cant get this cutie out of my mind, i had to write something :)

summary: minho's on tour and you're a back up dancer on tour with minho's brother. you are also minho's childhood friend turned best friends (with benefits). but thats all there ever is! really!

-

hands entangled in the hair of the boy towering above you, lips in sync, minho's warm hands leaves a burning sensation around your waist as he pulls you in closer and closer - the feeling of want escalating throughout the enclosed space of his hotel room. sounds of his tiny whines and grunts occupying every second of your headspace, until… 

“kitty-”

you quickly push him away, halting every movement. silence. 

“what did you say?,” you asked, in shock of the name that slipped past his lips. 

“i-i said…pretty,” minho stumbles over his words for a second before his confidence returns, standing his ground and twisting reality. 

“you’re joking right?,” you let out a sigh, sitting up at the edge of his bed as he quietly joins you, slightly afraid. 

sitting side by side, you decide to end his torment, playfully nudging your shoulder against his “i knew you still liked her,” you giggled and he lets out a sigh of release, quiet laughter mixing in with yours.  

“i’m in trouble aren’t i?,” his shoulders droop down, looking like a defeated puppy, awaiting your answer.

“why don’t you tell her?” you suggest to the broken hearted boy beside you. 

“i already did that remember,” he reminds you. 

“how could i forget?...you facetimed me as you were leaving the plane and complained for a straight six hours about how much she’s missing out and that you’re the best there ever is and blah blah blah” you smiled at the memory, remembering the sadness in his voice, one that he tried so hard to mask off by playing it cool. 

“it was actually five,” he corrects you, the two of you bursting into another fit of giggles. 

“i also remember,” you say as the laughter dies down, “that you confessed to her literally the same day she broke up with dae,” you remind him. 

“yeah, and?...she still rejected me,” he argues back. 

“well, time can change things y’know?,” you point out, “but this thing between us is not gonna help you get the girl,” you continue, catching his attention. 

you knew that if you really wanted your best friend to be happy, you would have to spell this out for him.

“are you giving me away?” he playfully smirks, eyes on yours, as gentle as ever. 

“you were never mine,” a quiet laughter escapes your lips, replaced by a sad smile. a snap back to reality that this - this thing between the two of you, was never meant to be. 

pressing one last gentle kiss on his lips, you savor the feeling, completely aware that it's over. 

“friends?,” you whisper against his lips, forehead against his. 

“friends.” he agrees, pulling away and sharing a smile of recognition.

his heart belonged to someone else and just like every other kiss with him, there were no butterflies in your stomach flying around when his lips touches yours.

but still, it was good.

it was safe and comfortable, and completely…over. you tell yourself. 

-

an: im such a kittyminho shipper im not letting you have him. sorry! requests are open for minho fics! thank you for reading<3

[internetscenarios]

tgc brainrot,, new group video AND isaac video was very funny

i am on a roll

ok streamer!reader x all tgc members 😆 no grunk obviously but he will be mentioned

tgc x streamer!reader/ cc! reader ≽ܫ≼

isaac ♡︎

- playing minecraft on stream together 🫶🫶

- american truck simulator oh lord

- he would slightly lean ur door open being like “ru streaming :3?”

- in the old house they used to throw basketballs against the wall of tanners room whenever he was streaming

- so if isaac needed ur attention or u werent replying bcs u were streaming he would do something like that LOL

- would jus pop up in ur streams sometimes, like if ur in a vc by urself he would join and scare u

- if u were streaming and focused sometimes he may just come in ur room and shake u while screaming help

- feel like u would place ur hands on his face if he was too in frame

- bro wants to be faceless forever

- u would defo pop up in his streams like u would walk in ask him something and chat would just spam ur name

- would be in most of his videos

- like that one clip where nick is like “where is grunk when you need him”

- im finding it hold on 😐

makes me giggle sm

- but he would be like “where is y/n when u need them”

“they do NOT care”

yumi ︎ ♡︎

- he would LOVEE having u in his streams

- csgo brainrot with him oh god

- he would be screaming at everyone else then be super calm and nice to u if u mess something up LOL

- beating horror games with him, ur there for moral support

- the other way round as well, if ur trying to beat the horror game hes there for support but also constantly trying to tell u what to do while focusing 😐

- brainrot streams where u just watch daily dose of internet or funny tiktoks

- feel like hes not super into physical touch but if ur getting up from ur seat or something he has a hand on your back or waist to make sure you dont lose balance or stuff

- defo sweet tho like

“ok im going to sleep now”

“okayy goodnight love you”

- chat is screaming

- chat constantly asking you both to do a cute pose or smthn for an edit

- ok this is with all tgc boys but if ur public with ur relationship there are SO many edits

nick ♡︎

- ugh nick my love

- lets say hypothetically u live in bento house (sorry thats the only way i refer it as LOL) and u both have separate setups and he is ALWAYS needing help with something

- that one time he had ZERO mods in his chat and had to have chat to help him

- silly bf

- if ur streaming and he comes home from like tgc house he always comes in the room and says hello

- he is always doing something stupid in the background or just being embarrassing

- that one clip in ltlvc3 where larry was standing in yumis doorway, that is him LOL

- feel like he would jus appear and everyone spamming his name in ur chat

- being in his vlogs omg

- defo has at least a few (so many) vlogs of him spoiling u

- ok but if u were moving to austin he would vlog it all like he did with helping yumi move in

- those cute little “meeting my long distance bf” videos and u run up and hug eachother is u and nick :33

- if u were both open abt the relationship and were just in public people would want pictures with both of u,, not just either of u by urself

- his music is always on ur stream playlist

- and if u mention it hes like “omg hehehe”

- always going places like twitchcon w him

- bento is always on stream,, its not an option for him to not have a couple minutes of fame

- i saw someone do this with sapnap so creds to them but like,, imagine there was an edit on ur stream of a celebrity or someone and u we’re giggling and blushing then nick just calls u being like

“u have a boyfriend you know?”

big t ♡︎

- omfg roblox streams with him and larry

- there would be a cute compilation of you two on the vajeesh channel

is that his channel or no???

- in new isaac video he did the intro pretending to sound like isaac, he would get u to do that or the other way round LOL

- ive said this so many times b4 but if u lived separately from tgc house he would pull up to urs and just pretend ur streaming setup was his LOL

- if ur streaming he always comes and says hello

- imagine u were like a family friendly cc,, he would say the most outta pocket things and u would be lecturing him

- same w yumi omfg

- definitely puts some of ur fav songs on his stream playlist, and u do the same!!

- feel like he picks up little things u do in ur videos/streams

- like if u welcome saying like haii guys he does the same

- if hes streaming and u come into his room he forces u to have screentime bcs u deserve it 🫶🫶

- like nick he is always doing the most embarrassing stuff ever

“tanner its not that i dont wanna see you do a backflip, but last time you broke my entire desk.”

- hell naw

- defo always brings u a drink or food if ur hungry

also isaac defo does that. malewife

- if u got matching clothes ur both showing it off on stream

- matching wolf shirts HELP

larry ♡︎

- ROBLOXX STREAM

- if ur not in the stream or streaming u are sat on his bed with him occasionally telling u to say hello leaning his camera towards u

- god u have to put up with the most random shit ever

STUFF LIKE THIS

- also kendrick and drake being in that title did not age well

- if ur streaming he always asks to request a song 🙏🙏

- if ur ever doing a pretty chill stream he always makes it a bit more chaotic oh my god

- like youll be playing minecraft peacefully and talking to chat then larry comes in blasting music

- silly pictures of you two EVERYWHERE

- worlds most loved couple 🫶🫶

IM SORRY LARRYS IS SO SJORT I CANT THINK OF ANY i got lazy 😢😢

i hope these r cool 😆

[spinninhavs]

ꨄ ⌒ ⋆｡ ˚ SHOW ME .

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│⊹ warnings ⋆ ;; light swearing, mostly chris’ pov, y/n used, lowercase intentional, thats it!! its all fluff

│⊹ pairing ⋆ ;; chris sturniolo x fem!reader

│⊹ haven’s notes ⋆ ;; i was originally writing matt smut but i was too lazy to finish it LMAOOO

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incoming message from: nick 🥸

chrissy pooh!! guess what? y/n is coming over for movie night 🥰🥰🥰 get ready!

chris’ — pov

my heart had skipped a beat once nick told me that y/n would be coming over for a movie night. i have been liking her ever since sophomore year, even though i had the courage to ask her out (surprisingly), she got a boyfriend before the day i was gonna ask her.

it was hard for me to talk to her after she got a boyfriend, i always felt weird to start a conversation with her knowing i had a crush on her while she had her feelings for someone else. but recently, he cheated on y/n. i was probably the first person to find out. since in her words im her ‘second favorite triplet’ other than nick, who is her first favorite triplet. she ended up coming up to my place and i comforted her. y/n said that she was extremely grateful that i was there for her and such. and honestly? it just made me feel more in love with her.

unfortunately, nick and matt know about my crush on her. every-time she leaves our house after her and nick hang out or we all just hang out, they both tease me about it. they always either pick me on something i did that was a bit awkward and whenever i got close to her.

i was currently sitting down on the couch, my leg bouncing up and down as i waited anxiously for y/n. “you need to calm down.” matt told me when he noticed my anxious body language. “im fine?” i chuckle dryly. he looked at me like i was crazy while rolling his eyes. “matt seriously?” i say with my words laced with annoyance. he laughed a little bit before he said something. “your obviously nervous for y/n to get here just so she can lay next to you the entire movie.” matt giggled as he placed his phone down on his chest.

“what?? ‘m not.” i deny. a small knock was heard from downstairs, and my heart skips several beats. “we’ll see about that.” matt smirked at me as he sat up to go answer the door, running behind nick since he was too excited to see y/n.

end of chris’ pov

you were greeted by two pairs of blue eyes. “hey y/n/n!!” nick smiled as he dragged you into a hug. “hey nickkk” you giggle as you hug him back. it took him a while to let go of you but once he did, you went to hug matt as well. they both move a little bit so you could walk into their home.

you smiled at the brunette boy that had been sitting down on the couch. “hey chris!!” you giggle as you run over to give him a hug. he smiled softly as he embraced you tightly. “hiiii” he dragged out before letting you go. “y/n! you can go put your bag in my room.” nick called out from the kitchen as him and matt prepared some snacks. you nod before scurrying up the stairs to put your bag down.

“what movie are we watching??” you ask while skipping down the stairs. “probably a horror movie, i really wanna— fuck this is heavy! watch tarot. is it on netflix chris??” nick asked his brother while struggling to carry two bowls of popcorn to the sofa. chris shrugged before searching it up, surprised that the movie was on netflix already. “yeah, it is.” he said, scooting a little bit to make room for you to sit down.

you comfortably sit down next to chris, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. “nick pass me the popcorn” you say while reaching over chris to try to grab the bowl. the blonde boy handed you the white bowl filled with buttered popcorn. you put it in on top of your lap and you laid your head on chris’ shoulder.

“wait wheres matt?” you ask while shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. “hes grabbing candy from the car, chris start playing the movie!!” nick says eagerly, as if he needed to watch the movie as soon as possible.

“wait for me! jeez.” matt giggled as he emerged from downstairs. he threw the packs of candy in a pile on the foot rest. chris pressed play and the movie started. the living room was filled with the sounds of munching on snacks and the movie background music.

you occasionally heard small giggles coming from the two other boys on the sofa. you lifted your head in confusion and saw them looking at you and chris. after a while, the giggling wouldn’t stop. “guys! shut up.” you mumble, your eyes flickering from matt and nick to chris.

“sorry! sorry.. sorry.” matt giggled. you ignored them and just fixated your eyes back on the tv. soon enough, your eyes grew heavy, even though the tv volume was at 32 and it was a horror movie.

eventually, you fell asleep with your head slipping down to chris’ chest.

chris’ — pov

nick and matt kept giggling like little kids when they saw y/n laying her head on my shoulder. i shot them an annoyed look after they both said sorry when y/n told them to shut up.

i tried my best to pay attention to the movie and not to y/n. the movie was actually surprisingly good. i jumped a few times to the jumpscares that were scattered in it. a few more minutes went by and i felt y/n’s head slowly slip down to my chest. my breath hitches a little bit loudly and matt breaks his neck to look at us.

“awww.” matt teases. “jesus shut up matt!” i say quietly, blood spreading everywhere on my cheeks. “shh, is she sleeping?” nick asked with a cheeky smile. i nod slowly, my cheeks burning up. “here gimmie— go take her down to your room or something.” he said while grabbing the controller to turn the volume down.

i sigh a little bit frustratedly before struggling to pick up y/n since of the position we were in. “you guys can continue the movie without me.” i grumble as i bridal hold y/n close. “okaayyyyy!! have fun chrissy.” matt says in a high pitch tone quietly and with a pout.

i carefully walk down to my room, trying my best to not have y/n bump her head on the wall or anything. i quietly open my door and shut it silently. i flick the light switch on with my elbow slowly before walking towards my bed. i gently rest her down on my bed, covering her body with my white comforter. “jesus what do i do.” i whisper underneath my breath.

since i was already getting a little bit sleepy, i gave in to lay down next to her. i flicked off the lights and slowly laid down on my back next to y/n. i stared at the ceiling, my breathing unstable from nervousness. as soon as i was about to fall asleep, i hear the comforter rustling and feel her hide her face in the crook of my neck.

i freeze in place, hesitant to move. but i finally did after a minute or so. i turned onto my side and wrapped my arms around her. it was a little bit obvious that she was awake when she quickly wrapped her arms around me as well. “you awake?” i whisper softly. she lets out a small ‘mhm’ that made me smile a little bit.

“i hear your heart beat.” y/n croaked with a little smirk. my cheeks start to heat up once again. “no you don’t.” i giggle. she untucks her head from my neck to look up at me. “don’t make me feel like im going crazy!” she smiled. i laugh a little bit at her, a small hint of pink growing on my face when i saw her smile. “your hands are also cold.” the girl told me, reaching to her back to grab my hand. “they are always cold.” i state, intertwining my fingers with hers.

i blink at her a few times in the comfortable silence. y/n licked her lips before kissing my own. "g'night c." she whispered softly. my mouth was left opened a little bit out of shock. "y-yeah, g'night y/n/n." i say. "wait no, we aren't gonna unpack that?" i ask before i closed my own eyes to go to sleep.

"hm?" she hums at me. "you kissed me." i state. "yeah?" the girl mumbled again. "was it like a.. a friend kiss or." i mumble back, my hand leaving her's and to her waist instead. "god chris your so slow." y/n giggled at me. "i like you, idiot." she said again, looking up at me.

"what? really?" i say. "do i need to kiss you again to make you believe it or what?" she asked me, her hand coming up to play with my hair. "mm it would be nice." i mumble, making her lean up slightly to kiss me.

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│⊹ taglist ⋆ ;; @deftonesmatt @mattsluttywaist @luverboychris @sturniol0s @mxqdii

read part two here!!