#the polaroids on the corkboard

[jonathanbyersphd]

The fact that Nancy doesn't have a typewriter on her desk drives me a little crazy tbh

[allgremlinart]

AAAARRRGHHH

[re-discover-communication]

1000 hits for Woodwork Cookies and a hug for all of you

[rainingincale]

.

[edgyandoverzealous]

I've gone on a rant about Allan and why his existence horrifies me but I will not again. I just think it's unnatural how there's only one and he's Ken's best friend but all other male Barbies are Ken so how is he all of their best friends!? How?!

"there's only one allan" sounds so ominous and threatening as if they are saying "you only get one, if you break him go fuck yourself" or like "he's the only one left after the... incident"

[boujeesimss]

home office | sims 4 cc finds 💻

01. pillows & blanket 02. printer 03. painting

04. corkboard, polaroids (1)(2), plant, candles 05. office supplies, folders & clock

06. clock & office supplies 7. fan, decor, pencil cup & ipad

08. computer 09. chair

tysm to the cc creators! @soloriya @simcredibledesigns @imfromsixam @bbygyal123 @surely-sims @felixandresims @gua-cc @joyceisfox @ravasheencc

[mpreglover225]

The early morning sun is just starting to warm the backyard pool at the Alpha Papa Rho (APR) house on the University of Texas campus. Soft chatter and the clinking of ice in pitchers of lemonade drift through the air. It’s APR’s Annual Pool Day, a tradition where the fraternity’s pregnant members are treated to a day of pampering and relaxation—no small feat in a world where male pregnancy is both celebrated and hard work.

Inside the house, Jake Gutierrez, APR’s social chair, is going over last-minute details. He’s at six months himself, cradling a distinctly visible belly under his loose-fitting tank top. He’s already panting slightly from the hustle of organizing, but his eyes light up when he sees a group of pregnant brothers slowly make their way out onto the pool deck. Each is sporting swim trunks, some with an undone button at the top to accommodate their bumps. They exchange excited greetings, grateful for a break from finals-week chaos.

Cameron Smith, who’s nearly eight months along, lowers himself into a lounger with a relieved sigh. Nearby, Malik Robinson—leaning back on another chair—chuckles about how he’s never been so grateful for a day off from classes. “I swear, if I have to waddle across campus one more time, I’ll camp out in my lecture hall,” he jokes, resting both hands on his belly.

A handful of fraternities from across campus start arriving, each group bringing their own “spa station” in a friendly competition to outdo the others’ hospitality. The men of Kappa Theta roll up with a set of portable massage tables, determined to provide soothing back and foot massages for the APR dads-to-be. Meanwhile, the Omega Delta Nu brothers set up a mini fruit-smoothie bar under a bright canopy, offering fresh blends to keep everyone hydrated in the Texas heat.

Soon, the poolside transforms into a laid-back festival. A speaker plays a soft soundtrack of summer tunes, and there’s laughter when Zach Coleman tries to sip from his smoothie while lying on a lounger, nearly spilling it over his belly. “Dude, watch the baby!” jokes Hunter Evans, who’s only four months along and still marvels at how quickly some of his fraternity brothers have grown.

The massages begin in earnest about an hour in. The Kappa Theta guys respectfully ask each pregnant brother about pressure preferences. Cameron’s relief is palpable as he finally gets the knots in his lower back worked out. “I might not leave this table,” he half-murmurs, half-laughs. Over in the next station, belly rubs are offered—some find it silly at first but end up loving the gentle circular motions that ease pressure and make them feel cared for.

Throughout the day, people drift between stations: foot rubs, gentle shoulder massages, or simply floating in the pool to take the weight off tired feet. Between breaks, Jake hustles to ensure fresh towels are on hand, pausing to catch his breath whenever his baby gives a firm little kick.

By late afternoon, the pregnant brothers are dozing contentedly under umbrellas, bellies full of fruit smoothies and minds free of deadlines. Polaroid snapshots of the event are pinned to a corkboard near the refreshments: a gallery of glowing faces, rounded stomachs, and wide smiles. As the sun begins its slow descent, the visiting fraternities pack up, exchanging high-fives and promises to return next year.

[td-brick]

Sierra!! I was trying to think of something fun/witty to caption this but i couldn't so. Lol

without filter:

closeups:

[ID: a drawing of sierra from total drama. she is laying down on a bed (which is presumably hers). she has one foot lying flat and the other kicking up. one hand is scrolling on a laptop and the other is resting on her face. she's smiling. there are many pillows and plushies on her bed. on one of the pillows rests a cd player and headphones, with a stack of cds and various stray ones lying around (which are all specific albums: drums and wires (xtc), violator (depeche mode), goodbye my 4-track (logan whitehurst), and homogenic (bjork). her laptop has 4 stickers on it, the first being of a seal, the second just a red heart, the third a simplified rendition of the album cover of skylarking (xtc), and the 4th being a rainbow heart. she has a lot of stuff on her wall as well. the first thing is a total drama island poster, the second is a corkboard with a string of polaroids, a to-do list, a picture of cody, and a blue ribbon, the third thing is a phantom of the paradise poster, the fourth is a framed photo of her holding up a gymnastics trophy, and the fourth is a poster of a unicorn with a rainbow mane. End ID.]

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Say It Again

Title: Say It Again

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Prompts: Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" + Smut, requested by @summersong69

Summary: Your man surprises you with a call, and you surprise him with a show.

Warnings: masturbation (f/m), Daddy kink, phone sex, Facetime sex, mention of bodily fluids, lovey-dovey Sy

Beta: @peyton-warren

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

It wasn’t easy having your man halfway across the world, but Sy was serving his country, and you loved him for that. It had been months since he was in your arms, but he always made sure to call, text, or send you a good old-fashioned letter whenever he could. His most recent letter included some spicy polaroids of him that drove you wild. 

You took the photo of him smiling at the camera and lifting a barbell over his head and hung it above your desk in your home office so that whenever you looked up at your corkboard, you were smiling back at your man. You could tell that this picture was taken at the end of his workout as his chest hair was plastered to his pecs with sweat and a pinkish hue dusted across his nose and cheeks. You were always a fan of his hairy chest; tangling your fingers through the curly, dark hairs was a favorite pastime of yours.

Then there is the other photo he sent. This one is your favorite, and it stays in your nightstand’s bottom drawer along with your sex toys. Amongst your vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and various other erotic aids is a Polaroid that is pure pornography.

In this most sacred image, Sy managed to take a picture of his gorgeous, hairy chest and his groin. But not only is he shirtless, but he is also holding his fat cock in hand as it leaks. The evidence of his orgasm litters his abs and pecs like a goddamned Jackson Pollock painting. How he managed to take this selfie is a mystery to you. 

You just can’t get your mind off of the fact that he wrote the sweetest letter to go with it. All lovey-dovey and ‘I miss you’ and then this erotic art falls out from between the pages. You almost gasped when you saw it, but instead, you bit your lip and whimpered before taking the picture into the bedroom and promptly masturbating to it.

It had become a habit of yours to think about that specific photo non-stop when you thought about moments with Sy. The thought of his deep baritone would lull you into a headspace where all you could think about was the way he whimpered and gasped for air every time he came. It turns out that the more you missed him, the sluttier and more willing you became.

Until one afternoon...

You sit in your home office, checking your email on your day off when you are interrupted by the sound of Sy’s ringtone. Runnin’ Red Lights by The Cadillac Three starts to play, and you smile before picking up your phone and accepting the call.

“Hey, baby! I didn’t expect to hear from you today. How are you?” Your cheery, bright voice denotes your surprise at hearing from your man.

“Well, today was a helluva day, and I needed to talk with my woman,” he drawls, his accent coming through the phone thick and sexy.

“You sound exhausted. What time is it there? It’s a little before two in the afternoon here,” you share, concerned that Sy is not getting enough rest.

“It’s almost eleven here. I should probably be sleeping; everybody else is. I just can’t seem to calm my mind. I figured the best cure to relax me was talking to you,” he hums. “Plus, I haven’t talked to you since before I sent my last letter, and I gotta know how you liked the photos.”

Shameless flirt.

“You ain’t even gonna ask how I liked the letter? Just straight to the porn you sent me.” You chuckle as he ignores subtlety.

“I already know you liked the letter because I’m a great letter writer. What’s on my mind at this very second is the thought of where you put the pics,” he muses, the smile on his face evident in his voice.

“Of course. I see your priorities are right on track,” you reply, playing along. “Well, if you must know, I am looking at the workout photo right now. I’m sitting at my desk, and it is staring down at me from my corkboard.”

“Uh-huh, let’s call that the ‘safe for work’ pic. What did you do with the other one, girl?” His voice sounded so deep and dark as if he had moved his mouth closer to the phone.

“For that one, I have to go to the bedroom,” you purr.

“Go on to the bedroom and get it for me,” he presses, and you can only imagine the look on his face is probably one of smug satisfaction.

You get up from your desk chair and walk across the hall to the bedroom. You sit on your side of the bed and reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand. “Alright, baby, I am in the bedroom. Just reached into the bottom drawer of my nightstand, and would you look at that? The ‘not safe for work’ pic is in there, along with all my favorite toys.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and put me on speaker and then set your phone down in the charging stand?” he instructs, calmly yet strongly. You do as you’re told and tell him so. “Now I want you to take out a toy and play with that pretty pussy for me. And I wanna not only hear it but see it as well, so how ‘bout you accept my FaceTime request?”

You’re so busy trying to choose what toy to take out that your head whips up to see the incoming request. You momentarily wish you were wearing something a little more enticing, but then you remember this is the same man who can’t get enough of you, no matter if you are in your Sunday best or a big t-shirt and house slippers. You accept the FaceTime call and pick up your Big Boss vibrator and some lube, placing them next to you.

“There’s my girl, looking sweeter than Christmas morning,” he says, a big smile plastered on his face as he sits at a desk with one hand scratching his beard and the other out of view. He’s out of uniform, wearing a blue pullover and one of his favorite baseball caps.

You bite your lip, knowing that hand is probably wrapped around himself right now. “Christmas morning, huh? Well, how about I open your present for you, then?” You stand and turn your phone slightly on the charging stand so he can see you clearly as you undress for him.

You start with your old college sweatshirt, pulling it over your head so only your slinky camisole is left, hiding your upper torso from view. Hooking your thumbs in your sleep shorts, you slowly move them down your legs about halfway before turning around and bending over so he can see your cheeky undies barely covering your ass.

“You are teasing the hell outta me, but fuck if it ain’t the sexiest shit in the world,” he breathes, his arm visibly flexing as he appears to stroke himself.

You take pity on him and hold the bottom of your camisole, pulling it up your belly and letting it flop your tits out so he can see them bounce before tossing it to the ground. Next, you slide down your panties and kick them to the side before crawling back into bed. You adjust the phone again to make sure he can see you sitting with your legs spread as you pick up your vibrator. You turn it on the lowest setting and tease your nipples a bit, unable to keep quiet for long.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear all those noises. Fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he purrs, so eager to see what more you have to show him.

“Fuck, it feels so good. Wanna play with my pussy for you, Daddy,” you offer, already feeling your eager hole leaking with arousal.

“Yes, baby girl. Play with your pussy for Daddy,” he insists, licking his lips as he watches you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. 

You apply some lube to the vibrator and begin to slide it between your folds, letting it catch on your clit a few times and holding it there for a few seconds before moving the tip down to your entrance. You breathe in deeply before pushing the tip inside of you, staying still for a beat, then pushing it in further up to the hilt. You groan, and your eyes cross as you turn up the vibration speed.

Once you get your bearings, you look back up at your phone. Sy has repositioned his phone so that you can see him leaning back in his desk chair as his cock sticks out of his pants, his hand almost a blur as it rubs up and down his length. His pullover is rucked up and over his head, but his arms are still in the sleeves.

"Fuck, are you gonna recreate the pic for me, Daddy? Wanna see you cum all over that hairy chest while you watch me.” You babble, fucking yourself with your vibrator with deep, slow strokes.

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" He tsks at you and removes his hand from his cock. Crossing his arms, he lifts an eyebrow as he waits for an answer.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just miss you so much,” you whine, your sloppy pussy filling the room with a squelching sound. “I need you so bad.”

“Keep fuckin’ that pretty little pussy and cum for me first. After you cum, I’ll cum. You know how this works. Always make my girl cum first,” he warns, leaning back in his seat and lazily stroking himself as you watch. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp, pressing the button to increase vibration speed again. You bask in the higher intensity for a moment before leaning back on your elbow and planting your feet with your legs wide open. This gives you a better angle with which to hit your g-spot every time you thrust the toy inside yourself.

You mumble nonsense as you fuck yourself silly, your slick coating the toy and making it easier to dive deeper inside your pussy. Sy is there to cheer you on as you start to make the familiar moans of ecstasy that he knows only come before you explode.

“That’s it, baby girl. I can tell how close you are. Let go and cum for Daddy so he can cum for you, baby. Don’tcha wanna be a good girl for me? Come on, baby. You sound so damn wet for me right now. I bet I could slide right inside you with how fuckin’ sloppy that pussy is,” he rambles on, playing with his balls as his hand flies over his length.

Your tongue practically hangs from your mouth as you piston the vibrator in and out of you, hitting your g-spot over and over until you can’t hold it in any longer. Your breath hitches, your hand freezes, and you let out a wail as your body convulses and your walls flutter around the thick, vibrating toy. 

You gasp for air as you ride out your high, slowly moving your toy in and out of yourself. Blinking yourself out of your stupor, you look up to see Sy transfixed on you. He sees you watching him, and his hand moves impossibly faster, focusing on the head of his cock.

“Oh, baby girl. You looked so perfect cumming for me. You ready for me to cum for you now? Ugh, fuck, I’m gonna cum... I’m gonna-fuck,” he blurts, his hand working his dick through his orgasm as rope after rope of thick, white cum spurts from his tip. 

Just like in the picture, his chest is soon covered in cum. It just keeps coming, leaking over his hand to drip on his balls. The sounds of his gruff moans are music to your ears. His chest heaves as he dips his head back before looking back at you and smiling his goofy grin.

“Damn, girl! What you do to me should be goddamn illegal,” he yawns, stretching his arms out to the side.

“Haha, yeah, I must be such a bad influence on you. Might I remind you that you are the one that got us into this predicament? I only do what I’m told,” you tease, moving your lube and toy to the side to clean in a bit.

“Oh really? You gonna play the innocent game? Alright then, on that note, I need to get cleaned up, and so do you, sweetness. I’m suddenly exhausted, and I’ve got a meeting at the crack of ass in the morning, so I’m gonna let you go, ok?” He yawns at the end of his sentence, his eyes already starting to droop.

“Alright, baby. I love you.” You dare to clip your usual goodbye to see what he does.

“Unt uh, girl. Say it again and say it right. Come on,” he prods, his hand making a ‘come hither’ gesture.

“I love you to the moon and back and twice around the sun,” you profess, smiling wide as you say it.

“There it is. I love you, baby. You are my other half, my special person, and my very best friend,” he drawls, his tiredness showing in how his accent sounds thicker than normal.

“Sleep well, baby. I’ll talk to you soon,” you hum, beaming at the love of your life.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, love. Buh-bye,” he breathes, waving at you.

“Bye, baby,” you say, waving back. 

He winks at you before ending the call, sending your phone back to the lock screen. The photo you took at the beach years ago is staring back at you. Sy is standing with his back to the ocean, arms crossed, with a smug grin on his face. It’s your favorite photo of him—well, at least it was until he sent that picture that sits in your nightstand drawer. 

But you can’t exactly put that photo on your lock screen, can you?

A/N: This was almost too fun to write…oof, that Sy really gets my biscuit buttered.

[huntingingoodwill]

honey, honey (s.h.）

masterlist

pairing: family video! steve harrington x f! music store! reader

desc: after eddie drags steve into the music store across from family video, steve finds himself with a huge crush on the girl who works there, a crush that turns him into a mumbling, blushing mess. they bond over steve's love for abba (well, he doesn't love abba. but for her, he might!) ( also reader calls steve steven it's all very that 70s show jackie and hyde <3 )

“Stevie has a crush!” Eddie sang, voice doused in a sickly sweet lilt. The declaration rang through Family Video, announcing Steve’s infatuation to the dwindling midday crowd. 

“I do not.” Steve hissed, the burn that began to blossom in his cheeks contradicting his words. 

“You totally do.” Robin called out, her voice flat and matter-of-fact in between the clacking of tapes as she restocked the shelves.

Eddie arched his dark brows in a smug look, boots knocking against the counter as he sat atop it, swinging his legs. Steve frowned, drumming his fingers against the cash register. 

Steve’s eyes, the brown hues of his irises honeyed in the sunlight, wandered toward the window. He looked toward the music store adjacent to Family Video, eyes cruising past the crush of band posters plastered against the glass to search for you. 

You seemed to glow, and he envied the sunlight that touched your skin. He watched you tinker with a cassette tape behind the counter, winding the unspooled mass of tape with a pencil. He felt the dip of longing in his stomach. 

Suddenly, you turned toward his direction, and it took everything within him not to duck behind the counter and hide. 

Instead, he turned back toward the store in an attempt to act like he wasn’t looking, only to be met with the unamused countenance of a customer who had been trying and failing to catch his attention. 

“Cup or cone?” Steve blurted, eyes widening as he realised his mistake. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking the tape from the disgruntled customer’s hand, “Force of habit.” he explained. 

Eddie and Robin dissolved into laughter as soon as the door closed behind the customer. 

“Admit it! You’re, like, totally obsessed.” Robin snorted. 

He was a little obsessed. 

He hadn’t even taken notice of you before Eddie had dragged him into the record store the week before. Now, you were all that was on his mind. 

He was reluctant to give up his lunch break to help Eddie scour the store for a record he didn’t even care about. But as soon as he saw you, it all changed. His brash protests against Eddie dragging him into the store diminished, and he became completely quiet, lingering behind Eddie as a debilitating shyness seemed to rip the ability of speech from his voice, reducing him into a blushing mess. 

“Hurry, Munson,” you had tapped your finger against the corkboard that was tacked up against the wall. A polaroid of Eddie, his tongue sticking out in defiance, was posted beneath a crudely scribbled “BANNED 4 LIFE” sign. “My boss will kill me if he finds out I let you in here again.” 

“I got caught using the five finger discount a few too many times.” Eddie paired his explanation to Steve with a completely unapologetic grin. “This is Steve, by the way. Works over at Family Video.” Eddie jutted his chin toward Steve. “And Steve, this is… well, you can read.” 

Steve hadn’t stopped thinking of your name since, the fading, scratched letters that were etched onto your employee badge now engrained onto his mind. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the way you smiled at him, even when he couldn’t find the courage to say a proper hello. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the way you laughed, even as you chased Eddie out from behind the counter when he tried to switch out the record you were playing for one of his own favourites. 

“You’re going over there.” Now, Eddie leapt off the counter, snapping Steve out of the memory he was indulging in, boots thudding against linoleum as his ring-clad hands grasped onto Steve’s shoulders, dragging him toward the door. 

“What? Wait, no, Rob? Rob?!” Steve’s sneakers squeaked in protest as he attempted to dig them into the floor, Eddie mustering a surprising strength as he shoved him out the door. 

“Good luck, Harrington.” Robin’s indifferent voice was punctuated by the ring of the bell hanging over the door as it swung shut.

“Eddie, lay off! I’m not going in there.” Steve exclaimed, shrugging Eddie off of him just as the latter was about to shove him through the door to the music store. The low hum of the music playing within the store buzzed in Steve’s ears, the song pounding to the rhythm of his anxious heartbeat. 

Eddie’s flat, open palm met Steve’s cheek, the cold sting of his rings biting the side of Steve’s jaw. 

“Snap out of it!” Eddie exclaimed, hands latching onto the broad expanse of Steve’s shoulders as he shook him. 

“Dude.” Steve said, kneading the freckled skin of his cheek, the dull buzz of the slap already subsiding. 

“Okay. Sorry. Too much.” Eddie conceded, giving Steve a light tap on the cheek. “But come on. You’re Steve Harrington. Certified loverboy-” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Certified.” Eddie emphasised, jabbing a thick finger into the hardness of Steve’s sternum. “Turn on the charm. You like her? Get in there and talk to her! You can do this!” Eddie grit his teeth, a veil of determination falling over his expression. 

“I… can do this.” Steve said, voice faltering with uncertainty. 

“Let me hear you say it. You can do this!” 

“I can do this!” Steve exclaimed, the blaze of determination flaring in his chest. He turned to open the door, pausing for a moment before turning back to Eddie. “How do I look? My hair okay?” 

“Beautiful.” Eddie grinned. “Go get her, champ!” He called out, flinging the door open and shoving him into the store before he could change his mind. 

Steve stumbled through the door, the resolve he had just moments ago draining out of his body as soon as he saw you. 

He summoned all the strength in his body to will himself to approach the first shelf he saw, immediately flicking through the records in order to appear occupied. Like he knew what he was doing, and that his heart was not going to leap out of his throat at any moment. 

Having rushed toward the closest possible shelf, he was in the “A” section, hands roving over ABBA records over and over again for an unreasonably long time as he stole the occasional glance at you. His eyes tilted upward once more, trying to catch another look at you, but he realised you weren’t in his line of sight anymore. 

“Can I help you with anything?” Your voice, a lilting, lovely thing, made him nearly jump out of his skin. You were standing beside him, the proximity making him heady. 

“Um, I was just checking you out- I mean, I want you to check me out, I mean-” He tried to steady his breath, hoping it’d control his faltering tongue. “Can you please help me check this out?” His fingers plucked at whatever record was closest to him, handing it to you. 

“ABBA!” You amiled, gazing upon the glossy cover. “You like ‘em?” 

“Love ‘em.” A nervous laugh bubbled from his lips. “Who doesn’t?” 

He knew nothing about ABBA. Now he’d have to actually listen to them. 

“You’re Steven, right? Eddie’s friend.” The buttons of the register clicked as your fingers tapped against them, ringing him up. 

You remembered his name. He didn’t even bother to correct you, to tell you that his parents were the only people who ever called him Steven, and that was only when they were pissed at him. None of that mattered. You remembered his name.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, hardly able to form the syllable through the aching smile that began to grow on his face. 

“I should head over to Family Video sometime. Maybe you could give me a recommendation.” You smiled, handing the record over to him. “See you ‘round, Steven.” 

He practically floated out of the store. 

“Thanks, come again.” Steve muttered to the customer, sliding her receipt over the counter. 

His eyes wandered toward the window again, something he found himself doing more often than ever, hoping to get a glimpse of you. It was embarrassing, how often he did that, how he practically almost died when you caught his eye and waved at him. 

His fingers skimmed the countertop absent-mindedly as he gazed out the window, the kick of his heartbeat quickening in pace as he saw you walk out onto the sidewalk, arms crossed as your eyes followed the delivery van that cruised up to your storefront. The deliveryman placed two weighty new crates of records onto the concrete with a dull thud as you signed the clipboard he handed you. 

Your shoulders heaved as you sighed, bending down and attempting to lug the heavy crates into the store. 

Ever the gentleman, Steve was out of Family Video in a flash, ditching all responsibility to head out and help you.

“You need help?” He called out, not even waiting for a response before striding up to the crates, the muscles of his tan arms taut as he lifted them for you. 

“Thank you so much. The other guy on shift was supposed to help, but he just had to have a smoke break.” You said, rolling your eyes. 

You held the door open for him, and he placed the crates on the countertop with a thump. 

“Thanks, Steven.” You smiled, and it was enough to root him into place. He was lost in a daze, dizzy with the idea that that smile of yours was for him. He felt gooey inside, like he was due to melt right there, reduced to a puddle on the floor of the music store. 

You glanced toward Family Video, and he missed your smile as soon as the edges of your lips downturned. 

“I think you have to get back there.” You said. 

He followed your gaze, watching as a line of confused customers line up at Family Video, waiting for assistance.

“Shit.” He gathered his composure, rushing toward the door. 

“Oh! Wait!” You reached into your pocket, producing a cassette tape, the shrinkwrap taut around its shiny exterior. 

“I kept this for you. You like ABBA, right? It’s new. Latest cassette shipment.” You grinned, handing him the tape. 

He ran his thumb over it, heart pounding in his chest. He was lost for words, the ability to speak having completely left him as his cheeks tinged pink, heat burning in his collar. 

“It’s on the house. Just don’t tell my boss, alright?” You smiled. 

He was in so much trouble.

If he wasn’t in love with you before, he was now.

[chrissv4mp]

i'll love you 'til the day that i die! MATT S.

summary: you and matt have been frenemies since the 8th grade. when you both go to homecoming, you get picked for homecoming queen, and chris is your king. matt can't help but storm outside of the school angrily.

pairing: matt sturniolo × fem!reader

warnings/topics: arguments, vulgar language, fluff, sorta angst, confessions, highschool au, etc.

a/n: LOVE THIS SONG SMSMSMS also this probably makes no sense towards the end cause i was purely running on 2 bottles of water😖

"matt," you exclaimed, running into his room without any warning.

he jumped a little, eyes snapping toward the direction of his bedroom door.

you took a seat at his desk, pushing yourself toward his bed with your feet before spinning around to face him.

"why do you have so much energy this early in the morning?" he groaned, rubbing his eyes as he had just woken up a few minutes ago.

"cause, i just got big news? and, sorry for being so happy to see you?" you joked, rolling your eyes and leaning back in the chair.

matt hummed in curiosity, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it look better, "and what's the news?"

you almost couldn't stay still, changing the way you were sitting every moment or so.

"i got nominated for homecoming queen!" you all but yelled, making matt flinch slightly at the loud noise.

his smile was small, but very smug as if he was gonna say something to bring you down.

he could never shut his mouth whenever you brought up something good that happened to you, he always had to one-up you.

"cool, cool, but i've gotten nominated for homecoming king like years in a row. it's nothing big to be nominated once," he shrugged, keeping direct eye contact with you and watching as your face contorted into a subtle look of sadness.

your frown was small, and if matt hadn't been the one to trigger it, then he probably wouldn't have noticed.

he always did this, and you should've been used to it by now. but, god, did matt know how to push your buttons.

"yeah, well, i didn't see your name on there this time. you're not someone special, y'know?" you laughed, trying to hide your frustration.

matt's grin only widened at your words, "huh. well, it'll be there by tonight. those girls can't resist my charm, not even you, y/n."

"shut up. nobody wants a homecoming king that's an asshole to every girl he meets." you groaned, crossing your arms over each other.

"maybe, but you're the only girl i dislike at the school." matt bit back, leaning against his headboard as he stared you down.

you let out a quiet huff, looking around his room and letting your eyes land on the corkboard he had on the wall opposite his closet.

there were letters, pictures, and polaroids of all of his friends. and in one corner, there was a polaroid of you and him at the beach.

there was writing below it, 'i want u to stay 'till i'm in the grave<3' it was in dark blue sharpie.

your lips upturned into a small smile. he didn't hate you. he never really could, even if he tried.

"doesn't seem like you dislike me," you broke the silence, pointing over at the board.

matt's smile dropped, and his face flushed a soft pink color as he sat up straight. "just get out, would you!"

you giggled to yourself as you got off his chair, not forgetting to give him the middle finger before closing his door and walking back down the hall.

nick looked up from the sink as he heard your footsteps walking past the kitchen, turning around to look at you.

"bye, y/n," he smiled softly, waving over at you and accidently splashing water on the kitchen counter.

"see you later, nick," you smiled, waving back before resuming your walk down the stairs and out of the house.

"birds of a feather," chris said, breaking the silence between the four of you.

nick raised an eyebrow, looking to the side to see if chris was talking to him.

the younger boy was pointing over at you and matt, at the opposite end of the booth you all were sitting at.

"what?" matt laughed over the loud chatter of the cafeteria, crossing his arms before looking over at you.

you were confused just as he was, staring over at chris with an unsure look on your face, "right... and what are you yapping on about this time?"

chris looked dumbfounded, staring at the three of you in disbelief as he scoffed, "you guys seriously don't know that saying? i thought you were older than me."

"by, like, 2 seconds?" nick said, leaning on the table as he picked at the cafeteria food with a plastic fork.

chris punched his brother softly, rolling his eyes before explaining, "birds of a feather flock together, it basically means you guys are alike in one way or another."

matt laughed, looking over at you before giving his attention back to chris, "we are nothing alike, trust me. she's horrible at communicating, and i'm amazing at it. i'm popular. she's not."

"yeah, he's stupid, and i'm smart. remind me how we're alike, again?" matt looked away at your remark, silently mocking you.

"look at your outfits right now, if i didn't know any better i would think you guys are matching." chris pointed out, nodding his head in your direction.

nick nodded, "he's right, you guys look like a couple."

both yours and matts face flushed bright pink, and you looked seperate ways, embarrassment washing over the two of you.

"yeah, more like a couple of friends." you forced out, looking back up at nick and chris.

nick raised his eyebrows, looking away.

"and not to mention the many times you both have said the same phrase. like, tell me you hang out too much without telling me you hang out too much?" chris joked, laughing at himself.

nick chuckled quietly, nodding his head in agreement with his brothers.

"that's a coincidence." you mumbled, sitting up straight.

"it's happened more than i can count, i don't think it's a coincidence of any sort." nick said, looking over at matt, who just dragged his hands down his face.

"well, whatever. not like it's gonna last forever," matt said, and before anyone could reply, he stood up and left to his next class.

the bell rang a few seconds after, and you, nick, and chris gave each other confused looks.

"sorry, y/n. he's probably just had a rough day, i promise you he doesn't mean it." nick reassured you, reaching over the table to hold your hand.

he left a few moments later, and chris stayed with you.

"don't take it to heart, 'kay?" chris muttered softly, smiling at you.

you nodded, and chris began to add on, "i've seen him cry over you. he tells me he doesn't know why. all he says is that he doesn't think he could love you more than he already does."

nodding, smiling softly before watching chris get up and leave. now it was just you and your thoughts at the table alone.

huh. who would've thought matthew sturniolo, one of the most popular guys at school, would be crying over you, quiet, kept to herself, y/n l/n?

you couldn't tease him about it, you did the same thing for him. you always cried over matt, not even knowing why because he had never really hurt you.

you always just sobbed to nick about how you would love him 'til the day that he dies. and after those words registered in your head, you only cried more at the thought of matt dying.

but those nights, you were usually drunk or super high. nick always knew how to calm you down, though, he was always there for you whenever you needed.

matt had also occasionally been there for you in your lowest times, never hesitating to break the speed limit getting to your house.

he always confronted the boys that had stood you up, never let anyone talk bad about you or even give you dirty looks. even if he didn't consider you a friend, you thought of him as one.

"i just don't understand," matt whispered shakily as he looked up at the night sky, stars scattered all around and lighting the place around in just the slightest.

you sat next to him, fingers playing with the blanket the both of you were on, "what don't you understand?"

he shrugged, "i don't understand how anyone could love me."

your neck snapped in his direction, eyes widening a little as a million thoughts came to your mind.

you wanted him to see how he looked in your eyes. he was the funniest, most handsome, kind boy you have ever met (even if he did occasionally tick you off).

you wanted him to know how many subtle compliments you gave him that he never noticed, but still took.

but then again, you wanted to just tell him how he was so full of shit. he knew that anyone and everyone was capable of loving him.

he knew that he could get anyone wrapped around his finger in less than a week. hell, he sure got you wrapped around his finger in just a matter of 2 days.

"i just don't get what people see in me. sometimes i just want to quit everything i do at the thought of it." matt added, finally turning his head to look at you.

your gaze softened as he looked you in the eyes, a subtle look of concern plastered on your face as you reached out to pat his shoulder.

"don't be stupid, matthew. i think that if anyone even glanced in your direction, they would instantly fall in love. you're all any girl would want."

matt smiled, and you reached over to move his hair to see his face better. he was truly beautiful. you couldn't ever get tired of the sight of him.

"you really think that?" matt asked, and there was just the tiniest hint of smugness in his voice.

you nodded, tilting your head to see matt better in the pale moonlight.

"i do," you whispered, and before matt could speak, you cut him off, "and don't ruin this moment with one of your stupid remarks, matthew."

matt's lips parted, but he chose to stay silent. he was grateful for moments like this with you, when it was just you two alone and nobody else.

he loved being alone with you, especially late at night when you guys would have these deep talks. no words spoken here would ever leave, neither of you would bring those topics up.

it was a nice feeling, one that made him feel safe and secure in your presence.

as the months passed by and new memories with you were made, matt felt like you were slowly creeping into his heart, invading all of his senses.

all he could think about was you now, and he couldn't ever get you out of his head. not even when he was in boston, more than 2,000 miles away from you.

it came so fast, and you almost couldn't believe that you were standing outside of your high-school with your best friends, all dressed formally.

you were wearing a satin dark blue dress that went down to your knees, while matt and chris were wearing suits and ties.

matt's suit was navy blue, his dress pants being white to match with chris, who was wearing a white suit and navy blue dress pants.

nick wore an all blue suit, his tie being the only white thing on his outfit besides from his collared shirt he wore underneath the suit.

"holy shit, you're stunning, y/n!" nick exclaimed, stretching his arms out before you hugged him tightly.

he smiled into your hair, patting your back before pulling away from your embrace.

"talk about stunning, look at yourself, nicolas! you look amazing, blue looks beautiful on you." you complimented, smiling up at him before walking to stand beside him.

he interlocked your arms, and you finally got the chance to look over matt and chris' suits.

"we look better than you guys ever could," matt said, swinging his arm over chris' shoulder and pulling him closer.

chris smiled, nodding in agreement as he wrapped his arm around matt's waist.

"i don't know, y/n's dress might beat us." the younger boy shrugged, to which matt rolled his eyes at.

"you tell yourselves whatever you want, we're gonna go inside to get the night started," nick stated, pushing past chris and matt and purposely shoving matt playfully.

the two brunette boys weren't slow to follow you and nick, chris rushing in front of you to hold the door open.

when the four of you got intonthe gym, it immediately felt like you guys were gonna have the best night ever.

the lighting was a darker blue, illuminating all the bodies beneath it and capturing every small movement the kids made.

"wow," you whispered, and nick echoed you.

"hello, and welcome, los angeles lions to our 34th annual homecoming dance!" madi exclaimed into the microphone, her eyes scanning the paper she was holding.

the school cheered in excitement, and chris screamed out an encouragement for madi.

she smiled at all the familiar faces before leaning into the microphone to read from the paper again, "these past few weeks have been a little chaotic with all of the new nominees for both homecoming queen, and homecoming king, and tonight won't be any less chaotic."

"now, i'm honored to welcome up on stage the nominees for homecoming queen," madi spoke before flipping the paper over to the other side.

she read over the names, and a big smile came to her face when her eyes landed on the first one.

"please welcome up to the stage y/n l/n," she said, her smile frowing impossibly wider.

chris and nick shoved you around playfully before you finally came to your senses and ran up to the stage. it was an unreal experience, being one of the nominees, you felt like you couldn't compare to any of the other girls.

"alahna estrella," madi said, reading a few more names over the loud cheering of the students before she moved onto the boys.

the gym went silent once madi announced that she would be calling up the boys for homecoming king, now.

"now, i'm very happy to call up to the stage one of the very popular sturniolo triplets..."

matt got ready to walk up to the stage, but when the name fell from madi's mouth, he froze in shock.

"christopher sturniolo!" she said happily, clapping along with the other students.

your eyes widened at the sound of chris' name being called, and you clapped for him.

nick watched as chris made his way up the stairs onto the stage, yelling out his name and clapping for his brother.

matt clapped slowly, the realization that he wouldn't get to be the homecoming king washing over him. whatever, it didn't matter anyway because he already had 3 crowns from past years.

more names were called, and even nate was invited up to the stage as a nominee for homecoming king.

when the crowd settled down, madi had began to speak again, "now, the announcement that we've all been waiting for... this year's homecoming king is.."

madi's eye widened in surprise before she smiled big and read off his name, "christopher sturniolo!"

matt sighed, clapping for his brother. he was happy sure, but then again he was jealous. things always went his way, and he just wasn't ready for this happen.

was he being selfish?

after chris was crowned homecoming king, he stood beside madi up on the stage, smiling big at all the students of his high-school.

"and, for your homecoming queen. this year's homecoming queen is y/n l/n!" madi said, clapping proudly at you as she watched you get crowned.

you couldn't believe it. it felt surreal, like you were in a dream you couldn't wake up from. as you walked over to chris, he pulled you into a huge hug, muttering a quiet, "congratulations." into your ear.

madi took yours and chris' hand as she walked back up to the mic, bringing all of your hands into the air as she yelled out into the microphone.

"please give big love to our new homecoming king and queen, y/n and chris!"

the students cheered, some jumping up and down out of excitement as they screamed their hearts out.

matt huffed angrily, jumping out of his seat before pushing his way past multiple people to get to the exit.

he didn't go unnoticed by you, your eyes following him as he stormed out of the gymnasium.

you were surprised the door hadn't made a sound, it looked like he slammed into the door without even flinching.

"shit," you whispered, worry flashing over your features.

as soon as you got off stage, you ran out of the gym, ignoring all of the people who tried to congratulate you on your way down.

you ran outside of the school, turning every way to try and spot matt. when you did, his eyes locked with yours.

he was sat on the sidewalk, a streetlight illuminating his face as the spotlights had done inside.

you ran over to him, taking a seat next to him and scooting close to him.

it was silent for a few minutes. the two of you just absorbed in all of your thoughts about what just happened.

"congratulations on homecoming queen, i'm happy for you." matt said, looking over into your eyes.

you smiled, "thanks."

"sorry you weren't nominated, i thought you would have been considering you have been every other year." you apologized, and matt shook his head softly.

it wasn't just that, it was the fact that his brother was your homecoming king. it was the knowledge that matt would never get to be your king.

it was the fact that he would never get to be yours.

"i'm sorry, i just can't do this anymore, y/n." matt stood up from his spot, and you looked up at him.

you raised an eyebrow, worry still lingering in your head from matt's earlier outburst, "what? you can't do what?"

you stood up next, now face to face with the boy you both hated and loved the most.

"i just don't understand what we are, what i mean to you and what you even think of me. you keep giving me these fucking mixed signals and i don't know how to interpret them!" matt held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in an effort to calm himself down.

you swore you felt your heart shatter at his words. maybe this wasn't gonna be the best night you've ever had.

"what- mixed signals? i.. matt, what are you talking about?" you thought you knew what he was getting at, but as the words came out of your mouth, the thoughts fled from your mind.

matt muttered inaudible words before he finally spoke clearly, "you keep pushing me away and then pulling me back again, and i don't know what to do, y/n."

"do you want me, or am i just some guy you're toying with to get popularity? one minute you're nice and you have my back, and the next you're so fucking cold it's like i'm not even there, like you don't even care about me."

your eyebrows furrowed, he was explaining exactly how he made you feel.

"don't be a hypocrite, matt. i don't even act that way, you're explaining exactly what you make me think. i have all these thoughts and ideas i want to share with you, but when i do, you come over and push them down. why would i even want popularity? i don't give a shit about it, matt!"

"why do you do this to me, seriously?" your voice cracked, and only then did matt realize you were crying.

he groaned, taking small paces back and forth as he breathed heavily.

when he stopped, he was right in front of you, gaze soft as he stared into your e/c eyes.

"because i love you," he finally spilled it, and he didn't regret it. not at all.

the look on your face was not at all what he was expecting. he thought you might he disgusted or even angry.

"don't act so surprised, y/n." he said quietly, cupping your face with his hands.

they were cold, but you still leaned into his touch as he wiped away your tears.

he pulled you closer to him, and you ended up in his arms as you began to calm down. "god, i hate you, matt."

"yeah? well i'll love you 'till the day that i die." he muttered softly.

you laughed quietly, punching him playfully before pulling away.

he stayed silent, a soft smile on his face. as he continued to stare at you, he started to realize more and more things.

one thing he realized was that he never wanted to say goodbye.

maybe chris was right. maybe you two were birds of a feather.

. . . . . . . . .

tags: @cindylcuwho

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 ( l. minho x h. jisung ) - 03.

warnings: y/n is pretty turned on by what she listened, she mentioned it a lot, reader has tattoos. words: 1.9k

The faint hum of the hallway lights buzzed in your ears as you nervously adjusted the strap of your bag. y/bsf/n trailed behind you, carrying a dish she insisted on making because, as she put it, “We can’t show up empty-handed and look like hooligans.” You still weren’t entirely sure how the two of you ended up here—invited for dinner by Han Jisung and Lee Minho, of all people.

It had been a day since your awkward first encounter, and just as you’d begun convincing yourself that you wouldn’t see them again for a while, Jisung had texted you, asking for dinner. And right after that you heard from your small room sounds of making out session and probably something more, your mind still try to process that since. You were fairly certain that Jisung didn’t mean to sound as flustered as he looked. And Minho, who had poked his head out of their doorway to silently stare, didn’t help matters.

And now here you were, standing outside their door with your nerves threatening to turn you into a puddle.

“You good?” y/bsf/n whispered, elbowing you playfully as she balanced the glass casserole dish.

“Totally fine,” you muttered, though your voice betrayed you. “I mean, it’s just dinner. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t say that,” she teased. “Now the universe is listening.”

You shot her a glare, but before you could retort, the door swung open.

Jisung stood there with a grin that was far too bright for the dimly lit hallway. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just showered, and he wore an oversized sweatshirt that looked far too cozy for its own good.

“Hey! You guys made it,” he said, stepping aside to let you both in.

Minho appeared from the kitchen a moment later, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He wore a plain white T-shirt and black sweatpants, and you could tell he’d been cooking from the faint hint of soy sauce in the air. Oh those black sweatpants, showing perfectly his thick thighs- maybe that's what jisung was riding yesterday and whining about. Oh shut up, mind of yours.

“Welcome,” Minho said, his voice smooth but casual. His eyes lingered on the dish in y/bsf/n’s hands. “You brought something?”

“Of course!” y/bsf/n replied with a proud grin. “just a tiramisù. Family recipe. Where do you want it?”

Jisung grabbed the dish eagerly, practically bouncing on his feet. “Food! You already win points for this.” He gestured toward the small dining table near the kitchen. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home.”

You followed y/bsf/n into the apartment, glancing around as you stepped inside. Their space was cozy, much like your own, but far more lived-in. A worn couch sat against the wall, with blankets and pillows scattered across it. The coffee table was littered with notebooks, stray pens, and a controller for the gaming console that blinked faintly from under the TV stand. A casual playlist settled up on the Tv. The kitchen, however, was surprisingly neat—something you suspected was Minho’s doing.

The walls had small personal touches—a calendar hung next to the fridge, scribbled with dates and notes in messy handwriting—and still in Korean, which is a language that you still are managing to learn. A corkboard above the counter held Polaroid pictures of their bandmates, and a small sticky note read “Don’t let Jisung near the stove—Minho.”

“Do you guys live here alone?” y/bsf/n asked, her voice light and conversational.

Yes, they do.

“Yep,” Jisung replied, already setting the dish down with a satisfied hum. “We got this place a while ago. Small, but it works. You knew, every fan knows about the Minsung apartment—you got crazy all over it when it came out the news years ago.

“Small apartments seem to be the theme around here,” you joked softly, earning a laugh from Jisung and a small, approving smile from Minho.

“True,” Minho said, picking up a pot and placing it on the table. “But it’s all about how you use the space.”

“Wow, look at you. Wisdom from Chef Lee,” Jisung teased, pulling out a chair for Y/Bsf/N. “Sit. Seriously. You’re guests. You get VIP treatment tonight.” Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meets his, a small shiver runs down your spine.

You exchanged a glance with y/bsf/n, who stifled a grin, and the two of you took your seats at the table. It was small—only meant for four people—but the atmosphere was warm and inviting.

Jisung and Minho started placing dishes on the table with casual ease, like they’d done this a hundred times before. There was a steaming pot of kimchi stew, plates of fried rice, sautéed vegetables, and grilled meat. It smelled incredible, and your stomach growled quietly in approval.

“You guys really went all out,” y/bsf/n said, clearly impressed. “I didn’t expect such a feast.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Minho replied, brushing off the compliment with a wave of his hand. “We just threw some things together.” Is not like Minho and his boyfriend stood there in front of the meat section fighting over which one could be better for that dinner.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jisung chimed in, sliding into the seat next to Minho. “He’s being humble. Minho’s a cooking genius. I just help by, you know… existing.”

“You burned rice last week,” Minho deadpanned, earning a cackle from your best friend, a giggle left your throat as you try to cover it with a cough.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” Jisung wailed, throwing his arms up dramatically. “Hyung, don’t expose me in front of our guests.” Minho's eyes soften at the view of his boyfriend all worked up by a tease, he grins.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “So Minho does all the cooking?”

“Pretty much,” Minho replied with a shrug. “It’s easier that way. He eats, I cook.”

“Sounds like a fair trade,” your friend teased.

Your chopsticks starts to peek out the meat that got grilled, a smile on your face seeing the playful manner between your friend and the two guys, and for some point you even forgot about the fact that they are really your two biases. You move your hair behind your ear and the tattoo on your neck exposes a little, Jisung's eyes glance at it silently, he swallows.

He tries to get is focus somewhere else, everywhere expect your now exposed next with a dragon tattoo that he swear it could be out from spirited away, the head of the dragon goes behind your ear and it trace down until your shoulder. His pants tighten. Jisung leaned forward with a dramatic sigh, chopsticks clutched in his hand. “Okay, okay. I have to ask: who’s the better cook, you or your best friend here?”

Your friend gasped in mock offense. “You have to ask? Obviously me.” You snorted. “She boils water and thinks it’s gourmet.”

“hey!” she shrieked, slapping the table lightly as everyone burst out laughing. “I made tiramisù tonight! Show some respect!”

“I’m just saying… it’s one dish,” you teased.

“you’re cruel,” Jisung said between giggles, pressing a hand to his chest like the dramatics were contagious. “We’ll just pretend you’re both chefs. Peace restored.” The way that he said your name makes your stomach drops a little, your eyes moves on his for a brief moment.

Minho cleared his throat, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “Don’t encourage her delusion, Jisung.”

As the laughter died down and you reached for your water glass, you caught Jisung’s eyes lingering on you again. This time, his playful expression faltered slightly. You raised a brow in silent question, but he quickly looked away—focusing on the stew in front of him as if his life depended on it.

You frowned, a little puzzled, but let it go.

The meal slowed as everyone began picking at the remnants on their plates. Minho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he surveyed the empty dishes with satisfaction. “I’m impressed,” he said. “You guys kept up. Usually, Jisung eats enough for three people.”

“I DO NOT!” Jisung protested, mouth still half-full of rice. “Hyung, don’t expose me—again!”

Your friend laughed, pushing her plate away. “I can see it. Jisung’s got that ‘always hungry’ energy.”

You bit back a smile as you grabbed your water glass again, catching a glimpse of your reflection in its polished surface. As you shifted slightly in your seat, the neckline of your shirt moved just enough to reveal a faint glimpse of the tattoo ink on the side of your neck, again. It happened so fast that you didn’t even notice—but Jisung did, he's counting how many times that shirt moves, showing your tattoo.

His chopsticks froze mid-air.

At first, you were still talking with your best friend unaware that his gaze was now glued to the delicate design inked into your skin. It wasn’t bold or flashy, but it was beautiful—a small, elegant piece that seemed both subtle and personal.

Jisung swallowed hard. Heat crept up the back of his neck, spreading to his ears like wildfire. Minho caught on almost immediately.

“What’s wrong with you?” Minho asked, raising a brow as he looked between Jisung and your very oblivious form. “You good?”

Jisung blinked, startled, and quickly shoveled food into his mouth as if to distract himself. “I—I’m fine! Just... just hungry.” His voice was small, almost a whisper for only his boyfriend to notice.

Minho gave him a suspicious look but said nothing.

By now, Jisung had already stolen a few more glances at you, hoping you wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen tattoos before, he has and a lots of them all over his body—but something about you having one caught him completely off-guard.

It was unexpected. Cool.

And it made his heart race for no good reason.

Minho eventually announced that he was starting on the dishes, leaving you, your best friend and Jisung lingering at the table. Jisung still hadn’t fully recovered, though he tried desperately to act normal.

“So…” he blurted, leaning on his elbows as he looked at you. “I, uh—what made you get a tattoo?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

Your friend perked up immediately. “Ohhh, he noticed. I told you it was pretty.”

Your hand instinctively moved to your neck, fingertips brushing the ink. “You saw that?”

“Uh… yeah,” Jisung admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I wasn’t staring or anything—”

“You definitely were,” Minho’s voice called out dryly from the kitchen, though he didn’t even turn around.

Jisung shot him a look. “Baby, shut up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks warming as you shrugged. “It’s okay. Honestly, I forget I have it half the time.”

Jisung tilted his head slightly, his flustered energy replaced with genuine curiosity. “What does it mean? Or is it just for the vibe?”

“It’s… personal,” you replied softly, though your tone wasn’t guarded. “A reminder of something important.”

He nodded slowly, taking your words to heart. There was something about the way he looked at you—gentle, unassuming—that made you feel oddly at ease.

“I get that,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Your friend grinned knowingly, elbowing you under the table, but you ignored her.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

For the rest of the night, Jisung seemed just a little quieter than usual—still full of jokes and laughter, but his gaze lingered just a moment longer whenever you spoke. And whenever you absentmindedly touched your neck, you swore you caught him blushing all over again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  . ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist roommates )  .

taglist ! @estella-novella @fackeraccount @ihrtlix @hanji-coffee

[nhaomhi]

The Apartment We Won’t Share ◡̈

pairing: ex!jay x ex!yn

synopsis: in the aftermath of your broken relationship, you're haunted by the dreams of a life you once planned to share. an unexpected phone call stirs old emotions and bittersweet nostalgia. as you revisit your shared dreams and unspoken regrets, you find solace in eachother's voices, even if the life you imagined together will only live in your hearts.

genre: angst

word count: 0.5k

naomi’s note: i love this song sm 🥹🥹 it hurts so badly in a good way eshwbjsh

.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The coffee in your hands had gone cold, but you didn’t care. You stared at the empty wall of your studio apartment, the one you used to imagine filling with pictures of you and Jay. Polaroids from your weekends, a corkboard of little memories pinned together like the life you thought you’d build. The future that seemed so close once now felt like a cruel mirage.

Jay’s words still echoed in your mind. “We’ll find a place together someday. Somewhere cozy. Just you and me.” He’d said it so casually, like it was inevitable. Like you were inevitable. But you weren’t.

You should’ve seen it coming. The way life pulled you apart little by little—his dreams in one city, yours in another. You’d promised to hold on, but promises don’t always survive distance and time.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. Jay’s name lit up the screen. It had been months since you last talked, but you could never bring yourself to delete his number.

You hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice was soft, familiar, and it made your chest ache. “I… I don’t know why I called.”

You closed your eyes, letting the sound of him wash over you. “It’s okay. I don’t know why I answered.”

There was a pause, heavy with everything you weren’t saying.

“Do you still think about it?” he asked suddenly.

You knew what he meant. The dreams you had with each other. The ones you talked about so often they felt real. “All the time,” you admitted. “I still picture it sometimes. The little bookshelf you wanted to build. The ugly lamp you swore was ‘vintage.’”

Jay chuckled, but it was laced with sadness. “And the couch you said was too big, but I insisted on because I knew you’d fall asleep on it anyway.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I guess I still think about the life we almost had.”

“Me too.” His voice cracked, and you could tell he was holding back tears. “I don’t know why it ended like this. I thought we had more time.”

“Me too,” you said again, your own tears threatening to spill over.

For a moment, it felt like you were back in that imaginary apartment, curled up together on that oversized couch, laughing about nothing and everything. But then the silence crept back in, and reality reminded you that you were miles apart, in lives you’d built without each other.

“Jay,” you started, your voice trembling, “why did you call?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess… I just miss you. I miss us.”

You wiped at your eyes, hating how much you still loved him. “I miss us too. But missing you doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“No,” he said quietly. “But it still matters.”

You stayed on the phone for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It didn’t fix anything, but for a little while, it felt like you were sharing that apartment again, if only in your hearts.

And maybe that was enough. For now.

[aliceinoakdale]

✧♡✧ Alice Bedroom ✧♡✧

Wallpaper - Harrie Floor - Syboulette Curtains - SereneBluesims Rugs - Myshunosun, Foundaurora, Bknysimsz, Hydra: x, x, x, x Switch & Sockets - Pierisim Lights - Arnie String light - Myshunosun Neon - Hydra Cloud Lamp - Cowbuild Radiator - Pierisim Plants - Awingedllama : x, x, x Bed - Pixel Vibes Pillows, Blanket - Hydra Pillows - SM Sims Folded Blanket - Cowbuild Alarm Clock - SoftDefault Slippers - TheClutterCat Coat Hanger - Pierisim Cardigan - Around the sims 4 Chanel Bag - Bergdorf Hanged Cap - Syboulette Clutters - Simkoos Postcards, post-it, pictures - Around the sims 4 Camera - Ravasheen Polaroid - Max 20 Calendar - Aira Desk - Simkoos Cow gaming chair - Bknysimz Gaming set - Dsco Gaming set - Cowbuild Office chair - Felixandre Corkboard - Bbygyal123 Laundry Hamper - Hydra Kuromi - Bknysimz : x, x, x Plush - Bknysimz Figurines - Ddaengsims Homepod - Dsco Melting Heart Mirror - Hydra Simlink - Lot51 Coffee cup - Ddaengsims Pencils Holder - Pierisim Tumblers - Simkoos Folded Towel - Hydra Magazines - Hydra Playboy Pillow - Hydra Photos Frames - Ravasheen Book Pages & Posters - Simmila Candles - Ddaengsims Cabin Suitcase - Cowbuild Vynils - Simmila Backpack - Around The sims 4 Sac - Bergdorf Manga Set - Simmila Airpods - Ddaengsims Posters, Frames - Foundaurora Candles - CharlyPancakes Duffle Bag - Syboulette Heart Mirror, Kpop Merch - Ddaengsims Hot Water Bottle - TheClutterCat Pencil Holder - Aira Lingerie - Cowbuild Vanity - Joyceisfox Beanbag - Tuds Make-up - Mel Bennett Make-up - Syboulette Skincare - Simkoos Skincare - Ddaengsims Skincare - Joyceisfox Skincare - Simkoos Clips, Hair care - Bbygyal123

CC Creators :

@serenebluesims / @hydrangeachainsaw / @simkoos / @dscombobulate / @bbygyal123 / @joyceisfox / @syboubou / @tudtuds / @aira-cc / @foundaurora / @bknysimz / @simmila / @pierisim / @aroundthesims / @maxsus / @charlypancakes / @awingedllama / @felixandresims / @Harrie / @Cowbuiild / @ddaengsims / @ravasheencc / @Pixelvibes / @Melbennet / @thecluttercat / @smsims-evekleos / @Bergdorf / @Arnie / @softdefault /

[starry-bi-sky]

random facts for my Dead On Main childhood friends au:

Danny's ghost form changed when he was with Jason in the ghost zone, and then reverted back to how it was after he died when Jason disappeared.

Danny as a human has blue-green eyes. As in, his eyes are blue with the lower half being green, and they bleed into one another at the middle. This is entirely because of Danny being a halfa, its meant to represent how he's no longer completely human.

In contrast, Jason's eyes are teal with hints of green. This is because he was revived. One half crawled out of the grave, and the other never left.

If you stare at Danny's eyes for too long, it sometimes looks like the green and blue are swirling together but never mixing, like water and oil. People agree that its very beautiful, but very unsettling.

Danny's lichtenberg figures as a ghost are black, and when he cries his tears float and disappear when they fall off his face. The tears have a thick, almost gel-like substance to them if you touch it.

Danny's ghost form is pretty unsettling - he fully embraced the fact that he died and in turn strongly shows it through his ghost form, plus the additional effect his grief has on his form. He's not who you would think of when you're told "we have a ghost hero protecting the city". he looks like someone the hero would fight. Danny usually keeps his goggles on over his face for this reason.

The black space on his suit, naturally, has stars on them. they shift and move as he does, and sometimes there are nebulae that swirl into view.

His lair in the ghost zone is an observatory, but like one of those fantasy looking ones that you'd see in some kind of solarpunk ghibli movie. it's huge on the inside, with a long hallway with polaroids strung along the walls, and doors leading into different rooms. The main room is the 'observe floor' with a large domed ceiling and furniture littered around near the walls, and more polaroids. Danny can press a button on the side wall to 'open' the dome ceiling and reveal a night sky above his head that he can float up into. some of these stars are danny's memories that play when you touch them. danny can move the night sky around like an interactive screen, and find new stars. This observatory has a hammock.

Danny's got his 'Kill The Clown' corkboard in his lair as well, it mirrors out into his apartment.

Oh. The hole in his heart. You can stick your hand into it. Or try to. Danny's gonna shove you back immediately though, because it feels weird. And also it's gonna leave a Substance on your hand that's gonna be really hard to take off, stains afterward, and has the consistency of semi-thick ink and oil. His tears are made of the same stuff.

Danny's Ghost Forms below (without his mad scientist goggles bc i forgot to add. them) Left is after he reunites with Jason (both times), and the Right is pre-reunion (both times).

[lavender-vixen]

What kind of things does Patrick Hockstetter have in his room? Like random details?

1989, right?

an old boombox with cassettes scattered nearby, bands like joy division, nine inch nails, some darkwave staples.

it smells faintly of cigarette smoke, motor oil, something metallic, and his aftershave. his room is a mix of clean, minimalist order and chaotic, unsettling touches, like an organized desk but posters with disturbing imagery on the walls (which his religious mother does not approve of).

the walls have dark, dramatic posters. bands like the cure, depeche mode, and bauhaus. maybe a disturbing hieronymus bosch or francis bacon print. a few torn-out magazine pages of supercars or motorcycles taped haphazardly to the wall. a small corkboard with pinned polaroid photos, some of people or places that seem innocuous at first glance, others with cryptic, creepy vibes.

a sleek black desk with a couple of knives and lighters resting casually on the surface.

a well-worn black desk chair, slightly faded.

an unmade bed with dark gray sheets, maybe a faded quilt his mom made that looks out of place.

a few random cigarette packs and lighters scattered on his dresser (this pyromaniac collects lighters).

a collection of odd trinkets: bottle caps, animal skulls, pocket knives, and random screws and bolts from dismantled machines.

a baseball bat leaning against the wall, with the handle taped for grip.

a box of matches from a dinner or dive bar in a small fish bowl.

a beat-up sketchpad tucked into a drawer, filled with disturbing but skillfully drawn images, surreal monsters and dark abstracts.

a few dark flannels and distressed denim pieces hanging nearby, and beat-up sneakers just outside of the closet.

a pair of dark aviators hanging off a hook near the door.

a ripped pair of jeans stuffed into the bottom of the closet with the faint smell of gasoline.

a half-burned candle, wax dripped over an old photograph.

a hidden drawer or box under his bed containing polaroids and playboy magazine tear-outs of salacious images.

a half-empty bottle of something, maybe alcohol or an odd chemical, that he needs to get rid of before his parents find it

a mess of receipts from fast food restaurants, tower records, and derry bowling alley

his combat boots, forgotten by the doorway for him to accidentally trip over later

his landline with the extra long cord to reach his bed for late night calls with the gang or girls

a clock radio he took apart and put back together

a small, random stuffed animal his grandma gave him at birth barely visible under a pillow

crumpled concert tickets on his nightstand, which has random doodles sketched on it in sharpie

re-worn laundry strewn across the floor

a few hemp necklaces and rings spilling out on a bookshelf between spiral notebooks