#trying not to think about the fact that I now also have to do this for eight MCs lmfao

[heretolurkbutalasitstaken]

Actually, you just politely correct reporters and other media people. (and Octavius is a trans ally, fun fact) Maybe tweet it out if it's that Spidey.

My view is depends how bad you need the others to know (although hiding it could be good for secret identity.) Honestly I think it's best to tell the villains first, because they all go to the same pub in the Marvel Universe (Peter Parker is also a former patron there; he won a quiz game with his roommate), so they'll all know after like 2-3 fights.

Also, here is my spin on the exchange.

Doctor Octopus is robbing a bank in a morally conflicted manner or whatever he does between body-swapping into Spider-Man nowadays.

He's threatening a guard or already in, either way, he's doing the same routine. Looking for something.

He's about to get into the vault but then- THWIP, his face is webbed.

Otto: AAGHH! Drat, you insipid wall-crawler! Don't you have better things to do? (He is using his tentacles)

Spider-Girl swings in and kicks Otto in the face (gently, last time she did this on the regular, he did get a terminal illness and take over her body)

Otto attempts to strike her with a tentacle but she dodges easily, barely worth a panel.

Spidey: I might be a girl now, but you still hit like one!

Otto: You- ah. Spider-Girl or Spider-Woman?

Spidey: uh, Spider-Girl, I guess. (she shrugs while perched on the floor in an epic pose)

Otto: Very well. (he privately believes that she should be the real Spider-Woman, something I vaguely remember from a Spider-Verse)

Otto: Spider-Girl! We meet again!

Otto: You may be a woman now, but your threat is still negligible! I will use this diamond to regain my standing and form a new SINISTER SIX from the ashes of the old! THE DIE IS CAST!

Spidey is already half-way to winning, because she's got a date to get to or laundry or something.

Spider-Girl: Didn't you do that last week, Doc? Jeez, be original. Maybe I should reuse material...

(Doc Ock has already opened the vault and is disabling the security with a tentacle. To combat this, Spidey is rapidly webbing money out of the vault)

Spider-Girl: Speaking of recycling... (Otto growls as she has sailed through the air and now right in front of him, face to face.)

Otto's tentacles reach for the diamond.

Spider-Girl: I'm gonna recycle THIS web, (She webs one tentacle) By spending it, giving it to someone else (The web is attached to his hand) And they'll do the same!

Otto falls over, trying to grab the diamond with his hand or something.

Otto: CURSE YOU, SPIDER-GIRL! (he thinks in a feminist way, possibly already coming up with new ploys for their next fight that will be slightly more courteous.)

Spider-Girl: Gotta go, Doc! See ya!

(Spider-Girl's internal narration is already focused on relationship troubles with MJ, maybe a brief aside about how maybe he'll leave her body alone next mind-swap)

What's the process if you're a superhero and you come out as trans

Do you tell your villains?

Do you keep it a secret so no one can connect Spider-Man with your secret identity for a while? Or do you pop a pronouns pin on your costume and the next time you web up Doctor Octopus and he goes "I'LL GET YOU NEXT TIME SPIDER-MAN" you go "Spider-Girl actually! I've been figuring out some shit"

[focusonkayjay]

stuck with you | (1/??)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: computer sci major/ shy/ nerdy! jungkook, econ major/ popular/ influencer! reader, college au, roommates au, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jungkook’s a hopeless romantic—emphasis on hopeless more than romantic. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he swore he heard bells chiming, like the angels from above were giving him a cosmic nudge. But he’s always been the awkward, nerdy guy—the one who blends into the background—while you? You felt like a dream way out of his league. Fate, however, had other plans and now, you’re his roommate and living with you—in all your effortless glory—is equal parts chaos and heaven. The only challenge? Keeping his ever-growing feelings in check. That is—until a cocky fuckboy with not-so-pure intentions sets his sights on you, and suddenly, just loving you from the sidelines might not be enough.

Word Count: 18.8k+

Chapter Warnings:  jungkook wears GLASSES !!!! oc has like a whole abg vibe/ style going on if ykwim, jungkook is really awkward but he's a cutie patootie and actually a huge simp for oc cause he can never say no to her, yoonmin couple, random computer sci and econ things that may be inaccurate (pls don't come for me, this is literally just a fanfic :p) , morning wood, vine references, nerdshaming (???), oc is just an oblivious girlie, mature language, lmk if i missed anything.

cher's notes: THE FIRST PART OF SWY IS HERE !!! first, a huge thank you for 900 followers—i can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. it’s surreal to have so many of you here, supporting me, and i appreciate it more than words can say. truly, thank you. second, i’m so grateful to everyone who’s been looking forward to this little mini-series. writing it has been such an experience, and honestly, i think i’ve fallen a little too hard for this jungkook. also, fun fact: i had to do a whole deep dive on rubik’s cubes for this because, for some reason, i never realized that a 3x3 wasn’t the only variation out there lmao. anywaysss, i’d love to hear your thoughts on this part, so let me know what you think !! and stay tuned for the upcoming chapters <333

★ PLAYLIST ★ MOODBOARDS

one: close, but not too close

Jungkook nearly chokes on his ramune soda, the fizz catching at the back of his throat as his fingers fumble to pause the very intense anime scene playing on his monitor when he hears you kick his door open. 

"Kook!! Code Red!! Nail Crisis—We're Talking National Emergency!!" you announce, eyes wide as you wag your phone in the air, making your way towards him. He blinks, his brain struggling to catch up but you're already in his space, shoving your phone dangerously close to his face. 

"Choose." you command and Jungkook leans back against his gaming chair, adjusting his glasses as he tries to focus on the screen. 

Two nail designs stare back at him. Right side: pink, glittery, bow charms—so sweet it looks like it might summon a fairy princess. Left side: silver chrome, the tips are pointy and probably even sharp enough to lowkey stab someone.

Nail lingo? Yeah, he's heard you ramble about it—coffin something, almond something, acrylic something—words that sound more like architectural blueprints or dessert flavors than beauty terms. 

Honestly, trying to keep up with your world sometimes makes his brain overheat, but this? This he can manage.

He's used to this by now since it comes with the territory of being your roommate. The unofficial side quest of being your personal beauty advisor. Nail designs, outfit dilemmas, lipstick shade debates... he's seen it all. 

Sometimes he feels like he's living inside a live-streamed Vogue consultation, except the model is you, and the consultant is him—armed with nothing but vibes and the occasional "Yeah, that looks cool."

As of now, his inner gamer kicks in as he nibbles on his lower lip, observing the two pictures closely. Chrome looks like it could belong to a cyberpunk warrior or, at the very least, serve as a cool weapon so that's what he goes for. "This one." he taps the silver nails with a sense decisiveness. "It looks very cool." he adds with a smile. 

"Oh my god, YES. I was literally thinking the exact same thing." you squeal, clearly overjoyed making Jungkook chuckle under his breath. He knows—has known for a while now—that even if he picked the pink set, you'd probably still go with the design you wanted anyway. 

But that's fine. He's just happy to be here.

He watches as you move away from his chair and casually flop onto his bed like it's your own, scrolling through more inspo pics as you ramble on about appointment slots and some nail tech named Jiwon. 

You glance over, catching Jungkook listening—really listening—despite the fact that none of this is remotely relevant to him. He's nodding along with the corners of his lips faintly curved. 

He doesn't interrupt, doesn't tell you to leave, doesn't look the slightest bit annoyed because he's simply patient like that and that's what makes him so special. 

It's been a little over a year since you became roommates with Jungkook. 

Two months into freshman year, when you were drowning in campus chaos, you desperately needed a place... something close to university, something that didn't involve suffocating dorm curfews, passive-aggressive bathroom schedules, and the horror of communal showers.

Apartment hunting was hell, but then you somehow stumbled upon Jungkook's listing. He was a computer science major at your university, had a vacant room, and was looking for someone to split the rent. 

Practical. Convenient. 

But still, you were skeptical mainly because moving in with a guy felt weird and well, not to forget... guys can be very very gross. 

But the rent was affordable. The place seemed nice. And it was practically hugging campus. So, you took the leap of faith and decided to move in.

And much to your surprise—and relief—Jungkook turned out to be an amazing roommate.

For starters, he was clean. Immaculately so. Borderline obsessive. The boy worshipped his laundry detergent and had the entire apartment perpetually smelling like fresh cotton most of the time. 

He was religious about doing the dishes, cleaned the bathroom when it was his turn without needing reminders, and—bless his soul—put the toilet seat down after he was done using it. Every. Single. Time.

He was a bit of a nerd. No, scratch that—he was a full-fledged nerd. Now that you've lived with him long enough, you can confidently say so and honestly, it's so fucking endearing. 

He mostly keeps to himself, stationed in front of his monitor, either binging some random documentary or anime, playing some random game or just furiously coding. He's the kind of guy who could build a fully functional app over the weekend... just because he was bored.

His shelves are lined with books, mangas and also with rubik's cubes in every possible variation... 3x3, 4x4, 5x5, pyramid-shaped, and some monstrosity with like, twelve sides. You stopped keeping count because at some point, you convinced yourself that they just multiply when you're not looking.

He's super shy and introverted, but wickedly smart. Sometimes, he's fixing the WiFi like a tech wizard and other times, he's helping you with an economics assignment, despite having zero reason to know anything about supply curves. 

But that's just Jungkook. Quietly capable of doing anything and everything. 

And speaking of capable—Jungkook's greatest feat, by far, might be his effortless ability to put up with you.

For someone who had a mile-long checklist for what a good roommate should be... clean, respectful, non-creepy, someone who wouldn't turn your kitchen into a biohazard zone— you were, if you were being honest, not exactly the easiest person to live with.

Not in a nightmare roommate from hell kind of way, but... let's just say, you had a presence. A loud one. 

You took up space... in every sense of the word. You were the kind of person who moved through life with a little extra volume, a little more color, and a whole lot of unapologetic flair.

You were, by most standards, the "it girl" of your university. Effortlessly cool, perpetually well-dressed, the kind of person everyone either wanted to be or be around. You didn't just follow trends... you set them.

Your Instagram is basically a curated mood board that half the campus tries to copy. You party hard, ace your classes when you feel like it, and always look good doing it.

You loved being a girl. You loved everything about it—the glittering ritual of makeup, the art of perfecting your nails, the thrill of styling the perfect outfit, the satisfaction of filming a flawless GRWM tiktok, the way a swipe of gloss could make you feel invincible.

And being roommates with Jungkook meant that, willingly or not, he had been drafted into your little glam army. He was your unofficial cameraman, your personal consultant, your human swatch palette.

You would burst into his room—mostly without knocking—waving a lip tint or eyeshadow palette in hand. "Hold still." you'd say, before smearing color across the back of his hand or, on more ambitious days... directly onto his lips. 

He had, as you once declared: "The most perfect lips—zero pigmentation. Every color looks good on you. It's honestly unfair."

Sometimes, you dragged him in front of the camera for random tiktoks—the now-iconic Roommate Series, which has somehow become a huge sensation on your account overtime. 

The series includes a bunch of videos like: "Doing My Roommate's Makeup (He's Nervous LOL)"   "My Roommate Picks My Outfit (Pray for Me)"  "Trying my Roommate's Gym Workout Routine (Send Help)"  "Cooking With My Roommate (We Almost Burned the Apartment Down)." And so many other classics that your followers absolutely loved.

Jungkook, your shy, introverted, perpetually hoodie-clad computer science major roommate—had somehow become the unwitting co-star of your social media life.

And the wildest part? He never complained. Not once. Never sighed out of frustration. Never rolled his eyes. Never told you to back off.

He just... went along with it.

He let you dust highlighter along his cheekbones because you were "testing undertones". Let you draw little eyeliner hearts under his eyes because you thought "it was cute". Let you turn his forearm into a rainbow of lipstick swatches because you were "deciding on a vibe."

He took your outfit photos with an almost alarming level of precision, learning your angles better than some of your actual friends. He gave honest opinions when you held up two skirts and asked which one was giving. 

You even managed to convince him to record voiceovers for a few of your GRWM videos, purely because you thought it would be hilarious and thankfully, his soft, awkward narration had now become a fan favorite.

Jungkook was everything you weren't... quiet, reserved, more comfortable behind a screen than in front of one. He didn't seek attention, didn't chase validation. He was happy existing in the background.

But for you, he stepped into the spotlight. Over and over again. 

And you absolutely adored him for it. For his patience. For his kindness. For the way he always—always—made you feel like you weren't too much, even when you knew you probably were.

You know that most of the things you say, most of the things you do, barely register as important in his world. But he listens and helps you do it anyway, only because it matters to you. 

Jungkook watches you with a small, almost imperceptible smile as you lie sprawled across his bed, legs lazily kicking in the air while you continue to ramble on about Jiwon and how it's so hard to secure an appointment with her because she's always booked. 

It's endearing. The kind of domesticity he never thought he'd find so... warm. You're nothing like him... bright where he's quiet, bold where he's reserved, yet he likes it. 

Likes you.

Jungkook remembers the first time he saw you so vividly, like it's burned into his brain. It was on the 2nd day of freshman orientation. 

You were wearing these loose, low-waisted jeans that somehow looked effortless instead of sloppy, paired with a top that flashed just a sliver of your hips every time you moved. Your hair fell in layered waves, makeup sharp and glossy, but honestly... he barely registered those details.

What really caught him was your energy. You had this magnetic confidence, the kind that commanded attention without even trying. You laughed easily, made friends within minutes, and seemed to glide through the crowd like you belonged everywhere.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had blended into the wallpaper that day. Shuffling around with his laptop bag, adjusting his glasses every few seconds, hoping no one would talk to him for more than two minutes. 

But he had watched you, just for a little longer than he probably should have and thought to himself, wow.

The thing about Jungkook is, he's always been a hopeless romantic. The kind of guy who cries over romance animes at 2 AM, thinks holding hands in winter is peak intimacy, and genuinely believes kissing in the rain might cure the world's problems. 

He's also the kind of person who believes that when you meet the one meant for you, the universe will let you know with soft bell chimes in the air, a gentle ringing in your chest, like some cosmic signal only you can hear.

And that day, when his eyes first found you in the sea of strangers, he swore he heard bells.

But unfortunately, Jungkook was also more hopeless than romantic.

Approaching girls? Nope. Eye contact? Terrifying. Flirting? That was an urban legend he had only seen in movies. 

Jungkook's never had a girlfriend and high school had been a blur of random girls seeking him out because they thought he was cute, mainly drawn in by his adorable smile and doe eyes. But their interest fizzled out just as quickly as it sparked, the moment they realized he wasn't some effortlessly cool bad boy or charming heartbreaker. 

He was just... him. Quiet. Awkward. 

The boy who took too long to respond to texts because he was overthinking every word, who blushed when someone sat too close, who found more comfort in rotting in his room solving a sudoko puzzle over the weekend, than navigating the social labyrinth of teenage romance.

So, that day at orientation, all he did was admire you from a safe distance, fully convinced you existed in a league he wasn't even qualified to spectate. He brushed it off, telling himself that you'd never ever notice a guy like him and he was almost certain he'd never see you again.

But fate is funny like that.

Because two months later, you were standing at his door with a fresh set of nails and a cool jacket, asking him if his roommate listing was still open. 

And suddenly, the girl who was once nothing more than a fleeting dream was now stealing his WiFi, using his arm as a makeup palette, and casually making him fall for her just a little more every single day.

He loved it when you asked him to take your pictures, loved the way you trusted him so instinctively with your angles, your poses, your vision. Loved that you valued his input, sought his opinions like they actually mattered. 

Loved that you pulled him into your silly little videos, even when he was red-faced and stiff, fumbling through whatever tiktok dance or GRWM voiceover you'd roped him into.

Yes, he was shy. Yes, he was awkward. Always unsure of where to place his hands or how to soften his default nervous smile. 

But it felt good... really good to be included. To be wanted. To be someone you liked having around. 

Because for someone who usually dreaded conversations lasting more than two minutes, talking to you, laughing with you... just being with you, felt like the easiest thing in the world.

"Oh my god, Y/n !!" Jimin exclaims as both of you weave through the econ building, making your way towards the last class of the day. You glance at him and notice the way he's clutching onto his phone, scrolling with his eyes widened in shock.

"What now?" you ask, already giggling as you lean in to peek at his screen. "Your recent tiktok—the one with Jungkook?" He spins his phone around, shoving it in your face. "One. Million. Views. You're both famous, babe."

Your eyes widen, and you fumble for your own phone, unlocking it. The video you'd posted just last week, titled "Styling My Shy Roommate" had absolutely exploded. You scroll through the the screen flooded with heart emojis and a bunch of comments. 

"WHY IS HE BLUSHING LIKE THAT?? I'M WEAKKKKK" "Softboy era activated." "Tell him he doesn't need to pay rent—he can just stand in my living room." "Is he okay? He looks like he's being held hostage but also kind of loving it??"

You can't help but grin as your mind flashes back to the memory of filming it. How Jungkook stood in your room like he was awaiting sentencing, stiff as a board while you fussed over his sleeves and buttoned up the cardigan you had handpicked from the men's section after dragging him through three different stores

He had looked so painfully nervous, wide eyes consciously darting to the camera while you just told him to act natural. Well, spoiler alert, he did not act natural. He looked like he was buffering.

"I swear..." Jimin starts again. "You need to start paying him royalties at this point. That poor boy is practically your unpaid intern." he says, making you laugh because honestly, he's not wrong.

"The comments are killing me." Jimin continues. "He's practically the internet's emotional support introvert right now." he cackles while you snort, flicking through more comments yourself. "I should show him these. He'll pass out." you joke. 

"Or he'll delete all his social media and go off the grid." Jimin deadpans. "He's so shy, Y/n. Every time I come over, he looks like he's deciding whether to greet me or make a break for the fire escape."

"He's like that with everyone. It's just who he is." you say fondly with a giggle. "Uh-huh. But with you? He isn't so shy." Jimin grins, making you furrow your brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying... you seem to be the only one who gets him to break out of that socially awkward equilibrium. Everyone else gets market stagnation, but you? You trigger an expansion." Jimin animatedly explains as both of you enter the lecture hall.

"Oh my god, not you sneaking in an econ joke right before class... please, have some shame." you click your tongue, the mock disappointment on your face making Jimin snicker. 

"But... maybe you're right. We've lived together for over a year now, so I guess he's just used to me. Besides, I annoy him 24/7, he kind of doesn't have a choice." You chuckle. 

"But seriously though... he looked so good in that video, right? Like, you can't tell me the supply-demand curve wasn't absolutely peaking in the comments section." you giggle, nudging Jimin with your elbow.

"Of course you had to drag market behavior into this." Jimin groans. "What can I say? Consumer preferences are shifting heavily towards soft boys in cardigans." you shrug as you settle into your seat.

"And you—" Jimin points accusingly. "—are monopolizing the supply." he finishes, taking the seat right next to you. 

You both dissolve into laughter as you pull out your iPads, getting ready for class. As you settle in, Jimin leans over one last time. "Seriously though, next time you get him into a vest or whatever, you owe him dinner. Or, like... a retirement plan." he says, raising his brows. 

"Deal. But if he quits, you're my backup model." you grin. "I expect hazard pay." he jokes. 

After what feels like an eternity, class wraps up as students shuffle out of the lecture hall. You and Jimin gather your things, falling into step like clockwork, until you reach the point where your paths diverge.

"Yoongi's waiting." Jimin singsongs with a smile, fingers already flying across his phone, no doubt texting his boyfriend. "You literally saw him this morning." You tease, but there's no real bite to it. "And I'll see him tonight. And tomorrow. And forever." Jimin says sassily like he's rubbing it on your face. 

Yoongi, Jimin's beloved boyfriend is a music composition major, and they've been in a relationship for as long as you can remember. They moved in together a few months ago, and though they practically breathe the same air from dawn to dusk, Jimin is still giddy every time Yoongi's name rolls off his tongue. 

Like he's tasting sugar. Like it's new, every single day. 

It's nauseating, really. But... God, you adore it so much because you want that. You want that so badly it aches.

The kind of love that seeps into every corner of a life. 

Because beneath the curated facade... the effortless 'baddie' aesthetic you've crafted so carefully for your social feed, the glossy veneer of perfection, the sponsored posts with captions that take you twenty minutes to get just right, the flawless outfit, the perfect make up, beneath all of that, you're still just... a girl.

A girl who dreams of something gentle. A story that doesn't just make your heart race, but one that holds it. Cradles it. 

You'd had your fair share of relationships back in high school—though, looking back, you weren't even sure you could call them that anymore. They felt more like fleeting situationships, placeholders for something that never quite materialized. 

None of them had ever left you feeling full, like you'd found what you were looking for. 

The guys were either maddeningly nonchalant, treating you like an option rather than a choice, or they messed up in ways that left fractures too deep to overlook—texting other girls behind your back, swiping through dating apps while still feeding you lines about how much they liked you. 

Some didn't approve of the way you carried yourself, the way you dressed, the way you took up space so unapologetically. And instead of embracing you for you, they tried to mold you into something smaller, something easier—something you were never meant to be.

It was like you were always almost there, almost close to something real, but every time, it slipped right through your fingers because no one ever quite aligned with what you thought love should feel like—the kind you'd dreamed of, the kind you still believed was out there.

A love that feels like stepping into the warmth of home after a long day. A love where they peel oranges for you, open a pomegranate for you, or perhaps shell pistachios just so your fingertips don't hurt. 

It's something simple, something almost unnoticed, yet it's there as a quiet proof that they care, that they'd do those little things for you, just because.

Built not on grand gestures, but in the smallest details... like bringing you coffee with your order memorized perfectly, playlists made on lazy sunday afternoons titled with inside jokes only the two of you would understand, the way their arms hold you not just when you're breaking, but simply because you're there. Because they want you close, always.

The kind of love that wraps around you like a blanket, never asking you to be anything other than who you truly are. Something that feels like you were always meant to find each other, like the universe stitched your souls together long before you even met.

A love that makes "forever" feel less like a promise and more like a certainty, like no matter what happens, no matter how hard the world pushes or pulls, you'll always end up back in each other's arms because you're just... stuck together, but not in the way that feels like a trap but in the way that feels like home. 

You've always wanted that. Something like that. And maybe one day, you'll have it. You'd like to believe so.

When you started college, you found yourself investing more into yourself...your style, your confidence, the way you carried yourself through the world. You became your own priority, and it showed. Not just on your meticulously curated social media, but in real life too. 

People noticed—especially guys. They approached you constantly. Some with that awkward, endearing charm, asking for your number or trying to secure a date. Others? Not so much. Your DMs became a war zone... filled with weird, borderline unhinged messages that made you cringe so hard you had to physically put your phone down sometimes. 

Most times, it was a reply to a thirst trap—one that, to be fair, was strictly meant for the girls—yet there's always some random guy trying to shoot his shot or it's a string of desperate comments flooding in, all vying for your attention.

But you knew, deep down, that if you were ever going to meet your soulmate, it sure as hell wouldn't be through a sloppy DM or a thirst-driven comment.

You shake off the thought with a small sigh as you continue walking while the sun hangs low, casting a warm, golden hue over the pavement. The evening breeze is warm as you near your building. 

The minute you unlock the door to your apartment, the familiar sight of Jungkook's sneakers neatly lined up by the doorway makes you smile, signaling he's already home. 

And when you walk further in, you instantly sense him in the kitchen. You carelessly drop your bag onto the couch and drag yourself towards the kitchen, resting your elbows on the island as you watch him by the stove, cooking.

"Oh, hey." He smiles, once he notices your presence. "You're home."

You smile back, moving around the island as you inch closer to him and hop onto the counter, a little away from the stove. "What're you making?" you ask, peering at the dish curiously. It's obvious he's making jajangmyeon—but you want to hear it from him anyway.

"Jajangmyeon." he answers, his lips curling into a small smile. "How was class?"

"Same old." you sigh, swinging your legs lazily over the edge of the counter. He nods at your words, his attention drifting back to the food.

"Also!" you suddenly exclaim, pulling your phone out of your pocket. "Kook, your tikok—the one I posted last week—it hit a million views!! Look, you're famous!!!" You shove your phone in his direction, practically vibrating with excitement.

Jungkook's eyes widen in shock, his hands instinctively reaching out to hold your phone, bringing it closer for a better look. "One... One million views?" he stammers, utterly dumbfounded.

Jungkook doesn't even have a tiktok account. Social media was never really his thing, but he kept Instagram around mainly for the reels... the kind that catered perfectly to his inner nerd. 

His algorithm had him in a chokehold, feeding him everything from bizarre mating facts about deep-sea squids to oddly soothing videos of people assembling custom-built mechanical keyboards. Sometimes, it was a guy 3D-printing a fully functional wrench that looked like it could survive a whole trip to Mars.

And, well, he followed you too. 

So, amidst all that nerdy and geeky stuff...your stories, your pictures, your reels (that occasionally included him ofc) were his absolute favorites. But that's a conversation for another time.

He rarely posted anything about himself so it was safe to say his social media presence was practically nonexistent. 

Well... that was until you came along. Because, apparently—duh—he's internet famous now?? The fact that one million people had seen his face was nothing short of mind-boggling.

"Read the comments. Everyone's gushing over you." you laugh, and Jungkook scrolls through the barrage of responses.

"Soft boy aesthetic but he looks like he's seconds from passing out?? #needTHAT"  "Tell him rent is FREE if he stands in my kitchen looking nervous."  "Protect him at all costs."  "I'd give him my kidney"

Jungkook doesn't even know what half of these mean, but he can feel his ears growing hotter by the second. 

"Some of them are crazy, but they're so right. You do look cute." you giggle, looking over at him. At that, Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm... cute?" he asks, as if he misheard you. "Yeah, you're so cute." you nod, a smile spreading across your face, and Jungkook gulps. 

The way you say it so casually, with that pretty smile of yours... god he's so fucking cooked.

"You think... I'm cute?" he asks again as he adjusts his glasses, just to make sure he heard you right. "Duhhh, Kook. Haven't I established that already? You're like the cutest guy I know." you say, your smile widening with every word.

Jungkook swears his whole system just came to a screeching halt. The girl who caught his eyes on the 2nd day of orientation, the girl who he was convinced was miles out of his league, the girl who somehow, magically, became his roommate, the girl of his dreams thinks... he's cute. 

She thinks he's cute.

It's like his mind just short-circuited and it's enough to leave him speechless. He wonders if you know the effect you or your words have on him and all he can do is just stare at you in utter disbelief.

"This calls for a celebration!!" you suddenly declare, hopping off the counter and striding towards the refrigerator. Jungkook blinks, still processing the whole 'You're like the cutest guy I know' thing as he watches you yank open the fridge and pull out two bottles of soju.

Of course. 

He should've seen this coming the moment you made a beeline for the fridge. He's lived with you long enough to know that your version of a celebration involves downing shot after shot until the living room magically transforms into a karaoke room, and you're belting out some sappy '80s love song like your life depends on it.

But he still smiles because the sheer, unfiltered happiness on your face as you clutch the two bottles of soju close to your chest and pull out two shot glasses from the cabinet above, makes his heart do that thing again.

That stupid thing. Where it feels like it's going to burst.

"PUTTTT YOURRRR HEADDDD ONNN MYYY—" A cough cuts through your performance, but you soldier on, determined. "MYYYY SHHHOULDDERRR!"

Jungkook winces slightly, squinting as your voice pierces through the room, raising goosebumps on his skin—not the good kind. 

Now he might be hopelessly, head over heels for you, but for the love of all things holy, you cannot sing. He's convinced that when the universe was crafting you, perfection in every way, it must've thrown this one flaw in, just to keep things fair.

That's what he tells himself anyway as he makes his way over, watching your drunk self standing on the coffee table like it's your stage as you clutch onto the TV remote like it's a microphone.

"Okay, Y/n..." he murmurs, voice soft, hands hovering at your waist, ready to steady you if your balance falters. "I think that's enough for tonight. It's almost 2 a.m. You've got an early class tomorrow, remember?" he tries but you're still going on.

He shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he gently pries the makeshift microphone from your grasp. "Come on." he coaxes, guiding you down from your precarious perch. 

You mumble a string of complaints, the words tangled together in your tipsiness, nearly tripping over your own feet.  But Jungkook's right there, strong and steady, his arm slipping around your waist, holding you up like he always does.

With careful steps, he leads you to your room, the door creaking open as you lean into him, your cheek brushing against his shoulder. You're humming now...some incoherent melody, but he's used to this. 

He's taken care of you like this more times than he can count. And if he's being honest, he doesn't mind. Not one bit. Because even now, with your cheeks flushed from the alcohol and your eyelids heavy with sleep, he thinks you look unfairly pretty. 

"Here we go." he whispers, lowering you onto the middle of your bed. You groan in protest, wriggling like a petulant child as he tries to pull the blanket over you. He can see it—the exhaustion you're fighting so hard to push away just because you want to keep this night going.

"Kookie... I don't wanna sleep yetttt." you whine, your voice muffled against the pillow. He only smiles, his heart doing that ridiculous thing again... tightening and swelling all at once, as he tucks you in with gentle hands.

"Kookieee..." you draw out his name again, pouting this time, but he stands on business, adjusting the blanket around you. "Kookie, come onnn..." You try one last time, your fingers curling around his wrist, tugging weakly. "At least stay with me until I sleep. Pleaseeeee?"

And just like that, he's done for because, if Jungkook's being honest, when it comes to you, his resistance has the structural integrity of a wet tissue paper. So, with a soft defeated sigh, he straightens up.

"Okay, fine. I'll stay." he murmurs, already eyeing the chair by your desk in the corner, thinking he'll just drag it over and sit by your side until you drift off. It's what he usually does on nights like this... close enough to soothe you but keeping a bit of space, because, well... boundaries.

But apparently, you have other plans because before he can even take a step towards the chair, your hand shoots out as your fingers wrap around his wrist and you yank him with a surprising force for someone who, mere seconds ago, could barely stand.

It's clumsy and sudden. His balance tips, heart lurching for a split second, and then before he can even process it, he lands right next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

"That's better." you sigh tiredly still holding his wrist as you nuzzle into the pillow and inch just a little closer to Jungkook's warm body. 

Jungkook knows you don't even realize what you're doing, that you'll probably have no memory of this tomorrow but his heart doesn't seem to care about any of that. It's racing like he's just run a marathon, each thud echoing in his ears as he stares at the ceiling with wide eyes. Because, this? This, he definitely did not see coming.

He lies there, stiff as a board, every muscle tense, trying to will his heart into calming down. Minutes pass... though they feel like hours, before he finally works up the courage to glance over at you.

You're still. Eyes closed, breathing soft and even.

Asleep.

He exhales slowly, relief and something else... something dangerously close to disappointment washing over him. 

But this is his chance to finally get up and put some distance between his rapidly deteriorating heart rate and your sleeping form. Because, honestly? Being this close to you is doing things to him and he might actually be on the verge of a cardiac event.

Carefully, he lifts his hand, fingers moving to gently untangle yours from his wrist. But the moment he tries, you let out a small, sleepy whine and your grip tightens instinctively.

Okay. So, not asleep.

Jungkook freezes, hand hovering midair, before letting out the quietest, most defeated sigh known to man. Fine. He'll stay. Just until you fall asleep completely.

How hard can that be?

"Mmm... flowers...? Why does it smell like flowers? Am I... dreaming of a garden?" Jungkook's half-asleep mind stirs, thoughts weaving through the haze of slumber as his sleepy imagination spirals, picturing himself twirling through a meadow, maybe exchanging pleasantries with a particularly charming sunflower.

But the scent isn't fading... it's getting stronger. And it's getting too real.

Then, something soft brushes against his nose, making him twitch. He scrunches his face, trying to escape it, but the gentle tickling continues and suddenly the feeling of something warm and solid pressed against his chest hits him. 

And that's when his eyelids flutter open, pupils adjusting to the faint morning light, only to be met with a cascade of hair. 

Your hair. All over his face.

As realization settles over him like a crashing wave, Jungkook's eyes trail downward... and that's when he sees it. His arm, draped snugly around your waist. His hand resting against the soft fabric of your shirt. Your lower bodies pressed flush together, tangled under the sheets like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook's jaw practically unhinges.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

Did he actually fall asleep last night? Fuck. He was only supposed to stay until you drifted off—not fall asleep with you. But that's not even the real problem right now because... did he really fall asleep like this? Holding you? Spooning you? His brain short-circuits, running frantic laps between sheer panic and the undeniable warmth pooling in his chest.

And just when he's still in the middle of processing this ridiculous situation, you shift, pushing back into him, your body pressing even closer, and Jungkook's breath hitches sharply in his throat. His jaw clenches, lips pursing just enough to swallow down the pained noise threatening to escape.

God, you were too close. Too fucking close. 

And his body? Yeah, it's reacting. Predictably. Involuntarily. In a way that makes him want to fling himself into the sun.

He screws his eyes shut, mentally begging for divine intervention or at the very least, for you to stay asleep. Because if you wake up right now and find him like this? In your bed? Spooning you? With that pressing against you?

There's no explanation in the universe that could get him out of this one. No amount of stammering or panicked rambling could justify the very obvious, very mortifying problem currently happening beneath the covers.

Because Jungkook knows this isn't just his usual morning wood. In fact, this has very little to do with the morning and everything to do with you... and your ass currently pressed against him.

It's almost like his body made an executive decision to completely betray him the second you leaned back into him, and now he's left here... stiff in more ways than one, praying to every higher power that you stay asleep.

He knows he can't stay here any longer. Not like this. Because if we're being honest, this is toeing the line of violating all kinds of boundaries, and Jungkook respects you far too much to risk that. The most practical, the most decent thing to do is to slip away quietly before you wake up and find him in this compromising position.

So, with painstaking caution, he begins to move. He peels the covers back just enough, carefully untangling his arm from around your waist and this time, thankfully, you remain in your deep slumber, no sleepy whine of protest like last night.

He exhales a low sigh of relief when he finally pushes himself off the bed, standing up straight. His heart is still racing, but at least he's free. He spares a glance back to find you still curled on your side, blissfully unaware of his internal crisis and then he glances at the clock—there's still a little over an hour before your morning class. 

Perfect. 

Enough time to retreat to his room, take a cold shower (because, God, does he need one), and then start making breakfast. That way, by the time you wake up, everything will look perfectly normal. Like he had the most uneventful, innocent night ever.

So, he steps out of your room, making a swift retreat to his own and then storms into the bathroom, strips off his clothes and steps into the shower. He sighs softly, letting the water rush down his body letting it drown out the chaotic rhythm his heart has adopted ever since he woke up. 

By the time he's dressed in a fresh set of clothes, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he finally feels somewhat normal again... like his body and mind have called a temporary truce.

But that fragile calm nearly shatters when he opens the door and spots you standing by the fridge, chugging a bottle of water.

"Oh, hey." you croak, lowering the bottle when you notice him. Your voice is thick with sleep, scratchy, and with the way you squint your eyes against the morning light, Jungkook knows the hangover is hitting you hard.

"Just whyyyy did you let me drink so much last night?" you whine, shoving the bottle back into the fridge. 

By the way you're acting, it's obvious you have no idea what happened last night or this morning... how Jungkook woke up with his arm wrapped around you. Spooning you. With... other complications involved.

Jungkook forces a chuckle, a wave of relief washing over him as he quickly regains his composure. "I tried to stop you, but I gave up when you went back for the fourth bottle like a woman on a mission." he teases, gesturing towards the battlefield that is your living room, with empty soju bottles scattered across the floor like war casualties.

"I have class in an hour, and I swear my head is splitting open." You groan, pressing your fingertips to your temples. Jungkook smiles softly, already moving towards the mess to start cleaning up. He would've done it last night, but, well—things had taken a different turn.

"Why don't you freshen up? I'll make you some soup." he offers and you pause, leaning against the island as you watch him bend down to pick up the bottles. 

You've lost count of how many times Jungkook has cleaned up after you, nursed your hangovers, made you breakfast, made sure you were okay. He's like an angel in disguise, you think. And you have no idea how he hasn't gotten tired of you yet.

"Thank you, Kook. Seriously..." you say, voice softer this time, laced with sincerity. He glances up, pausing his movements just to give you one of those warm smiles, the kind that always makes your heart feel full. "Anytime." he says simply.

With that, you shuffle off to your room to get ready for the day. By the time you're out the door, stomach full of warm soup, your headache is nothing but a distant memory. And it's all because of your amazing roommate.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Taehyung's voice slices through the quiet hum of the library, pulling Jungkook's scattered thoughts away from the screen in front of him. For the last thirty minutes, he'd been attempting to focus on the leetcode assessment in front of him, but no matter how hard he tried, all that's occupying his mind is you. 

He just can't seem to stop thinking about you... how you called him cute last night, how you leaned into him when you were tipsy, the scent of you hair, how warm and soft you felt pressed against him this morning. 

Jungkook clears his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and quickly brings his focus back onto the screen, eyes darting across the lines of code, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as if trying to will himself into action. But it's no use.

"Yeah... I just... I was just trying to figure this code out." he lies, forcing the words out as smoothly as possible. But Taehyung, ever the perceptive one, doesn't buy it even for a second. He leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes, clearly not convinced. "It's Y/n again, isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow.

Taehyung was one of the first friends Jungkook made at university. They shared the same major, and if Jungkook was being honest with himself, he liked to think of them as kindred spirits. Of course, calling them similar might be a bit of a stretch, but it was safe to say they were the same person, just in different fonts.

For starters, they both shared the same nerdy interests... coding, anime, and all things geeky, but when it came to personality, they were worlds apart. 

Unlike Jungkook, Taehyung was bright, outgoing, and confident. He had this infectious charisma that seemed to draw people in effortlessly, and on top of that, he was also the star player of the university's soccer team. 

It was Taehyung who first approached Jungkook for a paired assignment at the start of the first semester, and that's how their friendship began to form. Over time, they grew close, and now, after spending so much time together, Taehyung had become well aware of Jungkook's deep feelings for you... something Jungkook had reluctantly confessed after a lot of prodding.

Taehyung was, unfortunately, very good at getting people to open up, and Jungkook was no exception. He could be annoyingly persistent when it came to matters of the heart.

"No." Jungkook scoffs, but Taehyung, ever the observant one, immediately catches the bright red hue creeping up his ears. A grin spreads across Taehyung's face as he leans in, elbowing Jungkook. "Come on, tell me what happened now?" he prods as usual.

"Nothing, Tae. Leave me alone and focus on your work." Jungkook mutters, his tone flat, hoping to brush the conversation aside.

Taehyung, however, isn't so easily deterred. "Hey, come on, is it really that bad? I just want to know how things are going with your roommate." he says, with a pout. "You know, the roommate you're so hopelessly in love with." he adds with a smirk.

Jungkook throws a sharp glare at him. "Watch your mouth." he warns, though a part of him knows Taehyung is only doing this to get a rise out of him. 

"Honestly..." Taehyung starts again, resting his chin on his hand. "I don't know how you do it. Living in the same house with the girl you've liked since the very first time you saw her, all while concealing your very real romantic feelings for her...." He pauses, giving Jungkook an exaggerated once-over. 

"That is not for the weak, Kook. You're just built different because seriously I would have combusted by now."

Jungkook keeps his eyes on the screen, fingers tapping the keys though he's barely processing what he's typing. "It's not that easy." he says casually, trying to brush off the weight of the conversation. 

"It's... kind of sickening sometimes, you know? Being under the same roof with her.. seeing her every day... and knowing I'm probably nowhere near her league..." He sighs, meeting Taehyung's gaze again, an almost resigned look in his eyes.

Taehyung's playful expression softens and he leans in a little, lowering his voice. "Hey... don't do that. Don't sell yourself short." His words are gentle but firm. 

"I'm pretty sure Y/n isn't the kind of person who cares about stuff like 'leagues.' And honestly, that whole idea? It's bullshit. No one's out of anyone's league, Kook. Relationships aren't about rankings. They're all about connection. About how you make each other feel."

Jungkook's fingers slow to a stop, his eyes flicking towards Taehyung, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. "If you're genuine, if you care about her the way I know you do, that's what matters. It's not about being the 'best' or 'coolest' guy. It's about being the right person for her.

Jungkook inhales slowly, carefully absorbing Taehyung's words. Maybe he's right. Maybe everything Jungkook has built up in his mind... the leagues, the what-ifs, the invisible walls, maybe they're all just ghosts of his own making.

But still... that gnawing insecurity, the self-doubt that's burrowed so deeply into his chest, it clings to him like a second skin. 

Because, god, he wants it. He wants everything with you. He wants to hold your hand, wants to hold you close.  He wants to do all the little things for you, the ones that might seem trivial to someone else but mean everything to him. 

Like making you your favorite breakfast, folding your laundry because you forgot again, or fixing your ring light when it flickers out right before you film. 

He always wants to be the one you pull into your silly tiktok dances or the one you use as a human swatch palette, drawing streaks of lip stains and eyeshadow along his arm for as long as you please.

He wants to be there—not just as a passing presence—but a constant. Someone you can always rely on, someone who always brightens your day, someone who always feels like home.

But wanting and having—they still feel like two entirely different worlds.

And the thought of losing what little he already has with you... the impromptu friendship, the effortless laughter, the quiet comfort of existing in the same apartment, it terrifies him.

So, he stays where he is. Close, but not too close. Wanting, but never reaching. Because taking that first step feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—one wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.

"Alright, everyone. It's that time of the semester again—time to talk about your upcoming research paper on macroeconomic market trends." Mr. Jang, your eccentric yet strangely endearing macroeconomics professor, announces just as the lecture is nearing its end.

His words send a collective groan rippling through the lecture hall as heads drop onto desks, pens clatter, and someone even mutters a dramatic "Nooo..." like they're being sent to war.

Beside you, Jimin lets out an exaggerated huff, slumping down in his seat like he's just been personally victimized. "Just take me out now. This is where I die." he mutters under his breath. You sigh, nodding in solidarity. "Literally, same."

"You'll be working in pairs." Mr. Jang continues, unfazed by the chorus of complaints. At that, the mood shifts and a subtle spark of hope lights up the room. Pair work is always better than slogging through a solo paper.

People immediately start throwing side glances at their friends, silent pacts being made through nods and raised brows. You and Jimin exchange the same look. It's obvious—you're a team. You've been surviving Mr. Jang's chaotic assignments together for multiple semesters now, and besides, you barely know anyone else in this massive lecture hall.

But then, just as people are settling into the relief of pre-determined partnerships, Mr. Jang's voice cuts through again like a dagger. "But... I'm feeling a little adventurous this time." he grins and a new wave of dread passes over the room. Everyone knows exactly where this is going.

"I'm all about broadening horizons, getting you guys out of your comfort zones. So... I've decided to switch things up. You won't be picking your own partners." he says and the collective mood plummets again and some students visibly deflate in their seats.

Mr. Jang grins, clearly enjoying this far too much. "I've made a list of the pairs myself, and I'll be emailing it to you all by this evening." 

Jimin lets out a suffering groan. "Like this couldn't possibly get any worse." he says and you nod, just as disappointed. The last thing you want is to be paired with some random person in class who either has no clue what's going on or is just impossible to coordinate with.

You've always been the kind of person who loves making new friends, striking up conversations with strangers, and weaving your way into different social circles with ease. But when it came to assignments? That was a different story. You'd rather stick with your best friend, Jimin or at least someone you know, because there's always a silent understanding of each other's work styles. 

No awkward debates over who would do what, no last-minute panicing because someone forgot their part. You just knew how to get things done, efficiently and without the headache.

"Alright, settle down!" Mr. Jang claps his hands to regain control as the students continue to protest. "Once you get your partner, I expect you to reach out, collaborate, and submit the assignment by the end of next month. That's two whole weeks before the finals, so that should be plenty of time, right?"

A few half-hearted nods follow, but it's clear most people are already bracing themselves for the impending awkward small talk and the inevitable "So... uh, how do you wanna do this?" conversation.

"Good. I expect great things from you guys. Class dismissed!"

As you gather your things, Jimin leans in, his voice thick with impending doom. "I swear to god, if I end up with someone who does nothing, and I have to write the entire paper myself... just know, this might actually be my end." 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you chuckle. "I'll put flowers on your grave." you joke, giving him a wink. "Make sure it's daisies, please." he shoots back as he follows you out of the lecture hall.

The warm afternoon sun greets you as you step out of the building, its golden rays spilling over the campus like honey. You walk beside Jimin, already caught up in some random conversation but it doesn't take long before you hear your name being called— all high-pitched and excited. 

You glance up to see a group of girls waving at you from across the courtyard, their smiles as bright as the sun. You know them, or at least you know their usernames because they're the same ones who're always flooding your comment section every time you post, hyping up your nails, your outfits, asking for makeup links, or DMing you to say you "ate" and left no crumbs.

You giggle and wave back just as enthusiastically, earning a chorus of delighted squeals in return.

Jimin clicks his tongue beside you. "Oh god. Here we go. Ms. Influenza. Ms. Campus Celebrity. Ms. 'Get Ready With Me for my 8 AM Lecture.'—"

"Don't start." you cut him off, laughing.

"I'm just saying..." he holds his hands up, grinning. "Should I get my camera out? You wanna do a quick fit check? Maybe we should go live—'Hey guys, just walking across campus, breathing oxygen, being gorgeous.'"

You swat at his arm, making him snort.

"You're just mad because no one's ever asked you where you got your jeans from." you quip and Jimin gasps, clutching his chest like you've struck him. "Excuse you, these are vintage—thrifted with love. For all we know, the previous owner died in them. Their ghost is probably hovering around right now, deeply offended by your slander."

You snort, but he's on a roll. "And, for your kind information, not everyone can pull off thrifted cargo pants also—what is that? A baby tee? Are you auditioning for Bratz: The Resurrection?"

You gasp dramatically, hand flying to your chest. "It's called style, Jimin."

"Right, right. My apologies, Ms. Vogue."

You both burst out laughing, as you continue walking, ready to head home. You pull out your phone, mindlessly scrolling, until you suddenly realize what day it is today. "Shit." you mutter under your breath.

Jimin's head whips towards you, immediately on high alert. "What? Did someone comment some weird shit again? Is this about that guy who said he'd drink your bathwater?"

You freeze, turning to him slowly, face twisted in horror. "Chim, why the hell would you remind me of that?" 

"Hey, I'm traumatized too, okay ??"

You shake your head, trying to banish the cursed memory. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's grocery shopping day."

You and Jungkook have this little system where you both take turns grocery shopping and keep the cabinets and fridge stocked with all the essentials. He had tried to convince you, more than once, that he could handle it every time, but you wouldn't let him. 

After all, you were roommates and it was only fair the responsibility was shared equally. And since he made the last trip, it obviously means it's your turn now. 

"Wanna accompany me??" You glance at Jimin, hopeful and he doesn't even hesitate. "Girl, you're on your own." he says. "Besides, I've got plans with Yoongi." he adds after a beat, making you roll your eyes. 

"Come onnn, you see that man every hour of the day." you groan, throwing your head back, exasperated. "All I'm asking for is one measly trip to the grocery store."

You shift your stance as you loop your arms around his, giving him your most pleading pout, paired with fluttering lashes, hoping it might be enough to convince him. But all your best friend does is look at you with disgust. "Girl, you can literally go with your roommate." he shoots back, unfazed.

"Come on, Chim, you know we take turns grocery shopping. He went last time, so I have to go this time, I have no choice but I don't wanna go alone. So come with me pleeeeaseeee." You drag out the last word, hoping your puppy-dog eyes will seal the deal.

Jimin groans, exasperated with a disgusted look but let's out a resigned sigh as he pulls his arm out of your grip. "Ugh, fine." he relents and his expression changes almost immediately. "But let's go with Yoongi. He can drive us there. You know, in his new car." he adds, already getting giddy at the mention of his boyfriend.

It's your turn to give him the disgusted look now, but you know walking to the store is a far less appealing option and third-wheeling the insufferable couple is a little price you'll have to pay for convenience.

Jungkook rises from the couch the moment he hears the front door creak open. His eyes immediately land on you, followed closely by Jimin and Yoongi, each of you juggling oversized bags filled to the brim with groceries.

"Oh, hey Kook." you exhale, slipping off your shoes. "Hey, JK." Jimin offers a bright smile, while Yoongi gives a small, acknowledging nod as the three of you shuffle inside the apartment. 

"Today was grocery shopping day?" Jungkook asks, his gaze softening as he steps forward, instinctively relieving you of the heavy bag in your hand, his fingers brushing faintly against yours, before you can even nod. 

Jimin and Yoongi exchange a knowing glance, trying to hold back their smiles, before making their way towards the kitchen island. "Yeah, so I had these two help me out." you answer following them as they set the bags down and Jungkook follows suit. 

"You know what happened today, JK?" Jimin suddenly begins, and you immediately roll your eyes, already knowing where this is headed. "Come on Chim, you're overacting" you sigh, moving towards the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

Jungkook blinks, slightly confused as he looks at Jimin. "What happened?" he questions softly. 

"We were supposed to be done with grocery shopping an hour ago, okay? But this one—" Jimin pauses to accusingly jab a finger in your direction "—decided to go on a quest for Twinkies."

"Twinkies?" Jungkook tilts his head. That's his favorite snack. 

"Yeah, Twinkies." Jimin echoes, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. "They weren't in any of the aisles, and you know what she did?" he pauses again, his lips twitching.

"She caused a full-blown search operation in the store. Had half the staff combing through the shelves like we were looking for some buried treasure." he explains animatedly.

"And then—get this—someone finally dug them out from the stockroom in the back." Jimin finishes while Yoongi leans against the island, watching his boyfriend with a fond smile, as if Jimin's exaggerated storytelling is the most adorable thing in the word. 

Well, though Jimin was being his usual overdramatic self—spinning the story more for entertainment than accuracy—there was still truth in his words. 

You knew exactly how much Jungkook loved Twinkies. He hadn't exactly made a big deal out of it, but you remembered, because he'd casually mentioned once, in a passing conversation that Twinkies were his comfort snack. 

It was a small, fleeting detail, but it had stuck with you and since then, every time it was your turn to handle the groceries, you made it a point to grab a pack—sometimes even three—just to see that contented smile grace his cute face when he found them in the pantry.

And today was no different. Well, maybe just a little because you'd had to put in some extra effort��scour the aisles, rally a few employees, and stir up more commotion than you intended—but in the end, you got them. Because it was for Jungkook. 

"I literally just asked if they had more in stock." you defend yourself as you close the fridge and cross your arms. "Oh, please." Jimin scoffs, though there's no real heat behind his words.

"Come on, baby." Yoongi chimes in. "You know she just wanted to get the Twinkies because Jungkook likes them." he says. "Yeah, like, forgive me for trying to get his favorite snack." you shrug, a light laugh escaping.

"I get that." Jimin concedes with a sigh, though his eyes are still playful. "But was it really necessary to rally the entire staff? You were going, 'No, I need the Twinkies. Jungkook loves Twinkies. I'm not leaving until I get the Twinkies.' Like, girl I'm sure he would've survived a day without them." He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Why even go to such lengths for Twinkies of all things?" he continues, exasperated and you simply smile at him, shrugging. "Just because."

Jimin stares at you, utterly unimpressed. "Just because?" he echoes, looking personally offended. "You dragged us through an entire covert operation just because?"

You laugh at that and Yoongi joins in too, but Jungkook only half-hears the rest of the banter because all he can think about is... You did that? All of that... for him?

The grocery trip took longer, not because you were being difficult, but because you cared. You cared enough to hunt down his favorite snack—Twinkies, of all things—like it actually mattered.

He swallows, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat. It's such a small gesture, something others might dismiss as trivial. But for fuck's sake, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He feels all tingly, almost giddy, because you really went out of your way, just for him, just for his silly little Twinkies. 

Soon enough, Yoongi and Jimin bid their goodbyes, slipping out the door and you turn to Jungkook with a soft smile. "I swear, Jimin's so annoying." you shake your head, though the fondness in your voice betrays any real annoyance.

Jungkook chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he follows you into the living room. "Yeah, but he's still your best friend." he says making you playfully roll your eyes. 

"Anyways, I'm gonna be in my room. Need to film this tiktok for some skincare brand." you sigh, already mentally preparing yourself for the ordeal and Jungkook nods, leaning lazily against the couch. "What do you wanna do for dinner? Takeout?" he asks. 

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. "Yeah, takeout sounds good to me." you agree and he gives a thumbs-up, pushing off the couch to head towards his own room. But just as your hand wraps around your door knob, his voice gently calls out to you. "Y/n."

You hum in response, turning to find him standing by his door. His eyes are warm and his expression is softer than usual, almost tender. There's a brief pause before he opens his mouth. "Thanks for getting me the Twinkies." he says.

His words catch you off guard and you can't help but laugh, though it's more bashful than anything. "I swear, Jimin was just being so overdramatic. It's really not that big of a deal, Kook. I'll always get you Twinkies." you say, shaking your head and trying to brush it off, though the way Jungkook's gaze lingers on you makes your heart flutter just a little.

"Anyways, let me know when you're ordering the food, okay?" you say softly after a beat and before he can respond, you slip into your room, closing the door behind you. And as you lean back against it for a brief moment, a small smile tugs at your lips because somehow, a simple thank you from Jungkook feels like the sweetest thing you've heard all day.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. You reach for it, already anticipating the email notification that greets you. 

Sure enough, it's from Mr. Jang, subject line unmistakable—his list of partners for the assignment. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, the familiar sense of dread settling in as you brace yourself for the inevitable revelation. 

You swipe to open the email, preparing for whatever name awaits you on the other side, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

"So, who's your partner?" Jimin questions, sliding into his usual spot beside you. "Some guy named... Jaehyun?" you answer, unsure. "Jaehyun?" Jimin echoes, trying to see if the name sparks any recognition, but nothing comes to mind. 

This class is so huge that it's nearly impossible to keep track of everyone's name and face.

"Yeah, I have no clue who he is." you say, shrugging. "Anyways, who's yours?" you ask and Jimin's grin widens. "It's Namjoon."

You gasp. Namjoon—the genius of the class, the one whose name you've heard so many times that it's become a staple in your memory. That explains why you recognize his name and face in this sea of unfamiliar ones.

"You lucky bastard." you say, shaking your head. "I know, right?" Jimin leans back, practically glowing with excitement. "Being partners with Namjoon means that an A is already in the bag."

You exhale a resigned sigh, because all you can do right now is only hope that this Jaehyun guy is someone kind and easy to work with but before you can get further lost in your thoughts, a voice interrupts. 

"Hey."

You and Jimin both look up to see a man standing in front of your desk with his gaze fixed on you. You blink, wondering what he wants. You've seen him around class a few times, but you genuinely have no idea who he is.

"Hi...?" you say, unsure, and the man chuckles softly, quickly realizing that you don't recognize him. "I'm Jaehyun... You're Y/n, right?" His tone is steady, and that's when it clicks, He's your partner for the assignment. 

"Oh hey! Sorry, I'm just so bad with names and faces." you giggle sheepishly as you stand up. "It's alright." Jaehyun replies with a reassuring smile. 

"Anyways..." he continues. "Since we're working on the assignment together, I just wanted to know how you'd like to start." His voice is calm and serious, and the sincerity in his tone brings an odd sense of relief because he sounds like someone who actually cares about the work.

"Oh, um..." you pause for a second, thinking. You know that most people prefer working in the library or just doing it remotely over video calls. But you'd prefer a more personal, comfortable setting, a place where both of you can freely share your ideas and thoughts without feeling rushed.

"We can start working on it at my place... it's near the campus." you suggest. "But if you have any other preferen—"

"Your place sounds fine." Jaehyun interjects with a smile and you nod at his words. "Here's my number." he says, sliding a small piece of paper on your desk. "Text me the address."

Before you can respond, the professor strides into the room, commanding everyone's attention. The casual chatter across the lecture hall dissolves into the rustling of notebooks and the scraping of chairs as people rush to their seats.

"I'll catch you later, yeah?" Jaehyun says smoothly, flashing you one last smile before turning on his heel. 

You offer a polite smile back, but the moment he's out of earshot, Jimin leans in, exhaling dramatically like he's just witnessed a divine apparition. "Wow. That is one good-looking man." His eyes are wide with faux awe, clutching his chest like he's been personally affected.

You snort, giving him a pointed look. "Bro, you literally have a boyfriend." you deadpan, narrowing your eyes playfully and Jimin gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "What, I can't admire God's work? Yoongi would understand." He winks, and you roll your eyes, fighting back a laugh.

But honestly? Jaehyun's face is the last thing on your mind right now. Looks mean nothing if he turns out to be unreliable.

At this point, all you care about is getting this assignment done. As long as he's easy to communicate with and doesn't disappear off the face of the earth when deadlines hit, you'll be more than satisfied.

Jungkook is perched on the couch, his brows furrowed in deep concentration as he stares intently at the ridiculously huge 17x17 rubik's cube in his hands. He's been trying to solve this for a month now, with no tutorials or help, and he's starting to wonder if he's just too dumb for it.

Each twist feels like it could either be a small victory or an impending catastrophe, and the stakes couldn't feel higher. Every so often, he flicks his wrist or makes some bizarre hand motion that only he understands, like he's performing a ritual to appease the rubik's cube gods.

But just as he's about to make a breakthrough, the doorbell rings, and Jungkook hisses in frustration, as if the universe itself is conspiring to distract him. He reluctantly places the cube on the coffee table, and just as he starts to rise from the couch to answer the door, you're already darting towards it.

He sits back down, wondering if it's just one of those PR package deliveries again and brings his focus back on the cube. But his concentration flickers and dies the moment he hears a deep and unfamiliar voice floating in from the doorway.

"Come on in." he hears you say and Jungkook's head snaps up, curiosity prickling at his chest as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. 

He's expecting maybe a delivery guy asking for a signature, or one of your friends like Jimin or someone, dropping by to gossip, but instead, he sees you stepping inside with someone unknown trailing closely behind you.

The guy is tall and lean, with a backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder, moving with that effortless kind of charm and the moment he steps in, his gaze sweeps over the room, before landing on Jungkook on the couch. 

There's a flicker of something in his eyes but it shifts almost immediately to the oversized rubik's cube sitting on the coffee table and Jungkook is quick to notice the way the guy's lips twitch, pressing together like he's clearly holding something back.

"Oh, Kook! This is Jaehyun." you say when your eyes catch his from across the room. You gesture back at the guy, who offers a lopsided smile. "We're working on an assignment together."

Jungkook blinks, scrambling for a response, but his tongue feels annoyingly slow. "Sup, dude?" Jaehyun greets, casual, a little too confident. There's a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, subtle but it's definitely there—the kind that's easy to miss if you aren't looking closely but the thing is, Jungkook is looking closely.

And for some reason, it rubs him the wrong way.

He's no stranger to you bringing study or assignment partners home—it's normal, part of your routine. He's done the same, though every time it feels like he's navigating social quicksand, stumbling through small talk and hoping the other person doesn't pick up on his awkwardness.

Still, he stands, out of habit more than anything, flashing a small, awkward smile. "Hey."

Jaehyun exhales a soft, amused huff, like he's holding back a laugh, and Jungkook can't tell if it's just his usual demeanor or if there's something else laced beneath it. Something condescending. But before Jungkook can figure it out, you're already moving.

"Anyways, we'll be in my room, okay?" you inform him with a quick smile, not waiting for a reply as you lead Jaehyun down the hall and before Jungkook can muster a response, the door to your room clicks shut.

He drops back onto the couch, the rubik's cube long forgotten on the coffee table. 

There's this thing—this gut feeling people talk about. This instinct, this unspoken warning system buried deep in your subconscious. Sometimes it's a tightening in your chest, a sudden shift in your pulse, or just a quiet, nagging whisper at the back of your mind, hinting at something your conscious brain hasn't quite caught up to yet. 

It's primal, wired into human nature... the kind of feeling that makes you hesitate before stepping into the dark, or glance over your shoulder without knowing why.

And right now, that very feeling is sinking its teeth into Jungkook.

He can't explain it, can't put his finger on a single, tangible reason, but something about Jaehyun, his eyes, his stance, the way he carries himself—feels... off.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a way he could call out without sounding ridiculous.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking it off. Maybe he's overthinking it. Maybe he's just being protective... or worse, maybe he's being jealous.

But his gut is still whispering.

And Jungkook's learned not to ignore that.

Surprisingly—and to your great relief—Jaehyun turns out to be an easygoing and cooperative partner. The last hour has been spent deep in discussion, bouncing ideas off each other, sifting through potential research topics, and, somehow, it doesn't feel suffocating.

Jaehyun listens attentively, considers your inputs, and offers his own without steamrolling over yours. It's honestly refreshing.

"So, I guess this is it, then." you say, nodding in satisfaction once the final topic is settled. Jaehyun mirrors your nod, a small grin playing at his lips. "Didn't peg Miss Popular as the type to actually lock in when it comes to assignments." he teases.

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "Excuse you, I take my academic life very seriously."

"Oh yeah?" He tilts his head. "So if I check your screen time right now, I won't find an ungodly number of hours spent on tiktok and Instagram?"

"First of all...." you say, pointing a finger at him. "That's classified information. Second of all, it's kind of like my job at this point."

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. "Right, right. Job."

You roll your eyes but can't help but chuckle along.

"Anyways..." he leans back in his chair. "How'd you even get into this whole content creation thing?"

You know you should probably steer the conversation back to the assignment, but honestly? You don't mind. Jaehyun seems reliable enough, and besides, a little break never hurt anyone.

"Well...." you start, a little sheepishly, "I was a Vine��kid." you say but before you can continue Jaehyun's eyes widen in an instant. "Wait, Vine? As in, six-second goldmine Vine? The superior app?"

"You know about Vine too ?!??!" You gasp, placing a hand over your heart again. "Oh my god. I thought I was alone in this cruel world."

Jaehyun scoffs. "Are you kidding? I lived on that app. To this day, I still quote Vines like it's a second language."

"No, because same." You lean forward, suddenly excited. "Like, I can't go one day without referencing 'It is Wednesday, my dudes—'"

Jaehyun, without missing a beat, throws his head back and screams. "AAAAAAAAH."

(A/N: SORRY GUYSFGJERHG, I WAS A VINE KID—I JUST HAAAD TOOOO. anyways, if you don't get the reference, check this link out hehe)

You burst out laughing, slamming your hand on your desk. "Oh my god. A fellow Vine scholar."

"Finally." he sighs dramatically. "Someone who understands."

You shake your head, still chuckling. "But yeah, I used to make Vines of my own too—though we are not going to talk about that." You cringe at the memory, suppressing a shudder. "So that's where my whole content creation passion came from. Except now, my content is more... I don't know, just stuff I actually enjoy doing." You shrug, and Jaehyun nods in understanding.

"I follow you on tiktok, by the way." He grins, tilting his head slightly. "And I gotta say, your content's pretty fire."

"Oh, really?" You smirk, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Then tell me—what eyeshadow palette did I review in my last video?" You cross your arms, arching a brow because you know damn well your content isn't exactly tailored for a guy like Jaehyun. But teasing him is too tempting to resist.

Jaehyun groans, throwing his head back. "Hey, come on, don't do me like that." he protests, laughing. "I was talking about your other stuff—like your random vlogs, your outfit checks, oh, um—your little roommate series."

"Ah, yes." You nod. "The roommate series' main star was the poor soul you saw in the living room earlier." You giggle, thinking of Jungkook's stiff face every time your camera is in his personal space. "He's my little unpaid intern." You grin, and Jaehyun laughs along.

"Yeah, I noticed. He's on your page a lot." Jaehyun muses, eyes narrowing slightly like he's piecing something together. "I've been wondering though... How do you even convince him to join in? He seems like the... shy type."

You giggle, leaning back into your chair. "Oh, he is shy—painfully so. But..." your voice softens, "He's also the sweetest person you'll ever meet. Never complains. Even when I make him do the dumbest skits, he just goes along with it." A fond smile tugs at your lips.

Before Jaehyun can respond, his phone buzzes. He checks it quickly, before letting out a breath. "Ah, looks like I gotta head out." he says and you nod understandingly. He stands and you follow suit as he slings his backpack over his shoulder in one fluid motion. "Cool, we'll see each other again..." you start.

"Day after tomorrow." Jaehyun finishes with a small smile, and you nod.

"Right. See you then." And with that, he walks out.

Once the door clicks shut behind Jaehyun, you linger for a moment before stepping further into the living room and your gaze naturally falls on the oversized rubik's cube, still half-solved on the coffee table and you wonder what Jungkook's up to right now.

And just then, it's the soft, rapid staccato of mouse and keyboard clicks that draws your attention, so you make your way towards Jungkook's room and as expected, he's there— perched at his desk, headset on, eyes locked onto the screen, fingers moving furiously as he navigates through his Minecraft world. 

You inch closer. "Hey." you call, giving his shoulder a gentle poke. Jungkook jumps slightly, wide eyes snapping to you as he hurriedly pulls off his headset. "Oh—hey." he breathes out, his voice tinged with the faintest trace of surprise.

His eyes flicker past you, towards the door, and for a brief moment he wonders if Jaehyun's  gone. You don't notice it, but Jungkook's chest eases a little when he realizes the guy's probably left.

He won't admit it out aloud, but the only reason he'd abandoned his rubik's cube and holed himself up in his room with the volume cranked up on his game, was to drown out the sound of your laughter echoing from behind the closed door of your bedroom.

He'd told himself not to think too much about it, but the longer he sat there, the more the warmth in your voice with Jaehyun grated against something he couldn't quite name. So, he'd escaped, to blocks and biomes, anything to block it out.

"What do you want for dinner?" you ask. "I was thinking... ramen?"

"Ramen... yeah, ramen sounds good." He nods, already starting to push himself up from his chair, ready to help. But you wave him off with a soft laugh. "Hey, I've got this. You can keep playing. I'll handle the ramen." you assure him, already turning towards the door to leave.

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, because he always wants to help out, but you're gone before he can.

He stays there, watching the spot where you stood for a beat longer than he needs to, before sinking back into his chair. The Minecraft screen flickers at him, but his focus is elsewhere as his fingers hover over the keys.

That gut feeling... the one that first crept in when Jaehyun walked through the door, still stubbornly sits heavy in his chest. But Jungkook exhales, shaking his head as if to clear it. It's not that deep.

He's just an assignment partner, after all.

Right?

Days drift by, and Jaehyun's visits have grown more frequent—so frequent that his presence has begun to settle into the corners of your shared apartment like it belongs there.

Jungkook has started to notice things—small, seemingly insignificant at first, but they begin to pile up like pebbles forming a mountain he can't ignore.

It's hard to miss how comfortable you've grown with Jaehyun. There's an ease to the way your laughter bubbles up at his jokes, the way your hand instinctively swats at his arm or chest when he teases you. It's playful—sure—but it leaves Jungkook with a faint, inexplicable unease.

He tries to brush it off. He really does.

Most days, he sees you both working, heads bent together over your laptops, furrowed brows, quiet discussions filling the living room or your bedroom. There's a seriousness to the project that he can't deny, especially in you because Jungkook knows how dedicated you are when it comes to assignments and projects.

But even then, Jaehyun has a way of slipping in like tossing a joke here or a teasing comment there and suddenly, the air visibly shifts. The work pauses and laughter spills out.

And then there are moments—moments like yesterday—that cling to Jungkook's memory like a thorn.

He had walked in to see Jaehyun playfully locking you in a loose headlock while you laughed, elbowing him in the stomach to break free, but the sight lodged itself in Jungkook's chest like a stone.

It was harmless, he told himself. Just friends messing around. But it was the details that lingered—the way Jaehyun's grin stretched wide, the way your laughter rang unrestrained, the way you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away. The way you didn't seem to mind him being so close.

And then there's the other thing. The part that unsettles Jungkook the most.

The look.

Every time Jaehyun is over, he throws a look at Jungkook and he instantly catches it. A look, which is fleeting but definitely intentional. The kind that seems casual on the surface but holds an undercurrent of something else. Something off.

It's not an open challenge, not exactly. Nor is it the the casual acknowledgment guys sometimes exchange to break the ice. It's subtler, more calculated... like Jaehyun's sizing him up, or worse, like he already knows something Jungkook doesn't.

It's the kind of look that worms under his skin.

The kind that feels like someone is quietly staking a claim on something you thought was yours.

And Jungkook hates it. He hates the way it's taking root inside him, how it makes his chest tighten and his jaw clench. He hates that he cares this much. That he even feels like he has something to lose.

But no matter how much he tries to rationalize it, how many times he tells himself he's imagining it... that gut feeling, that unrelenting instinct—remains.

Something about Jaehyun just doesn't sit right.

Right now, Jungkook remains perched on the edge of the kitchen island, one hand resting on the cool surface while the other hovers over his laptop's trackpad. He's trying—really trying—to stay focused on the test flashing across his screen, some tedious but necessary module assessment that's part of his course requirements.

But he can hear your voice, and Jaehyun's, drifting from your room nearby like an unwelcome undercurrent. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying to drown it out. He knows it's nothing, knows that you're just working on your project. But the sound gets under his skin anyway.

A few minutes pass before he hears the creak of your door opening, followed by footsteps padding down the hallway. Within seconds, Jaehyun appears—tall frame moving with that easy confidence that's begun to grate on Jungkook's nerves. His eyes sweep the room lazily before landing on Jungkook.

"Sup, dude?" Jaehyun greets, casual, almost dismissive, and there's something in the way his gaze flicks over Jungkook that feels vaguely patronizing. Like he's acknowledging him out of obligation, not respect. Like he's the one who lives here and Jungkook's the guest. 

Jungkook forces a nod in acknowledgment, fingers tightening around his laptop. Without waiting for a response, Jaehyun strolls past him, straight to the fridge. "Just grabbing some water." he mutters over his shoulder—like he's entitled to whatever's in there.

Jungkook says nothing, eyes flicking back to his screen. He taps his keyboard, more out of habit than intent, willing himself to tune it all out.

The cap of the water bottle twists open with a soft crack, followed by the sound of Jaehyun taking a long sip. Then he moves closer... almost too close, positioning himself beside the island, his body leaning in ever so slightly as he peers at Jungkook's screen.

"What you up to, man?" he asks, voice still light but carrying that underlying tone, like he already knows whatever Jungkook's doing is probably boring. Probably beneath him.

Jungkook stiffens, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He can feel Jaehyun's eyes trailing over his laptop screen, taking in the lines of code and multiple-choice questions.

"It's just a test. Course requirement." Jungkook mutters, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Ahhh... you're a computer science major, right?" His tone is laced with curiosity, but not the genuine kind. It's the kind that holds the faintest trace of mockery. The kind that makes you feel like you need to justify yourself.

Jungkook nods, curtly. "Yeah."

Jaehyun lets out a low, drawn-out whistle, followed by a chuckle. "Damn. Computer science, huh? That's... intense." He laughs before taking another sip of his water, the bottle crinkling slightly under his grip. "Must be tough. All those... codes and... what? Algorithms?" He gestures lazily towards the screen, eyes narrowing.

Jungkook doesn't like the way he says it—like it's a joke, like it's something trivial. Like Jungkook's effort is something to be amused by. "Yeah. Algorithms." he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, though he can feel his patience thinning.

Jaehyun leans in a little, his shadow creeping over the laptop screen. He squints at the test, eyes skimming over the technical jargon as though he's deciphering it, though Jungkook doubts he understands much of it.

"Man... that looks brutal. Don't know how you guys do it. I'd probably lose my mind staring at that stuff all day." He laughs, but it's laced with something condescending, like he's making it clear that he wouldn't waste his time on something so tedious.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.

"Guess you gotta be built different for that whole... nerd life, huh?" Jaehyun adds, smirking as he takes another sip.

Jungkook forces a tight smile, but his fingers tighten against the edge of his laptop. He feels the implication of it—the way Jaehyun's not just making conversation. He's dissecting him. Testing him. Seeing what gets a reaction. Measuring him up like he's weighing his worth and already finding him lacking.

Jungkook breathes slowly through his nose, fighting the urge to snap back. He's not going to give Jaehyun that satisfaction. Instead, he shifts slightly in his seat, subtly angling his screen away.

"Yeah." he says flatly. "Guess you do."

Jaehyun lingers a moment longer, like he's waiting for more—like he's hoping for a crack to show. But when none comes, he finally steps back, draining the rest of his water.

"Respect, man. Couldn't be me." He the proceeds to clap Jungkook on the shoulder—harder than necessary, his hand lingering for just a second too long before he pulls away. There's something weird about the gesture, like he's asserting dominance.

Then he steps back, water bottle still in hand, eyes sweeping over Jungkook one last time like he's taking stock—cataloging him, filing him away under less than. Like he's already decided he's better.

"You keep doing your thing, though." Jaehyun adds, voice dripping with false encouragement. "The nerd life's gotta pay off someday, right?" He laughs, turning on his heel, and before Jungkook can respond, he's already strolling back towards your room.

Jungkook stares at his laptop screen, but the words blur into a mess of symbols and frustration. His chest tightens with a mix of anger and something closer to humiliation.

Jaehyun knew exactly what he was doing.

And it worked.

Jungkook forces himself to return his focus to the screen. There's no reason—no logical reason—why he should let a guy like Jaehyun get under his skin and make him feel bad about himself—his major, his choices, or anything else for that matter.

He knows exactly the kind of guy Jaehyun is.

The kind who carries himself like he's untouchable, like he's a step ahead of everyone else. The kind who doesn't even have to say it outright to make you feel like you're somehow beneath him.

Guys like Jaehyun think they're on another level... effortlessly charismatic, naturally better, always in control. And maybe, for the most part, they are. But Jungkook refuses to be another person who feeds into that delusion.

So he brushes it off, squares his shoulders, tightens his grip on his laptop, and forces his attention back to his test.

Nearly half an hour passes.

He's managed to focus, even if it took effort, even if his brain kept replaying snippets of the earlier conversation in the background. But then, the sound of your bedroom door opening breaks his concentration again.

This time, it's you walking out first, your laptop tucked under one arm. Jaehyun follows a few seconds later, slinging his backpack over one shoulder with the ease of someone who doesn't have a single worry in the world.

"So, now that we have enough data collected on consumer spending trends across different income brackets, we should start working on the outline of the paper by next week." you say, your voice casual but firm as you lead Jaehyun towards the door.

Jungkook glances up just in time to catch the usual faint smirk Jaehyun throws his way. The same smug, knowing look that makes his skin prickle. Still, as usual, Jungkook ignores it, his fingers tightening against the laptop's edge as he looks back at his screen.

As you reach the doorway, Jaehyun continues to nod at your words. "Cool." he mumbles, proceeding to slip into his shoes. He straightens up as his fingers adjust the strap of his backpack.

He turns around, ready to leave, but suddenly, his hand reaches for the doorknob but stops midway, and you, noticing the pause, tilt your head slightly in question. "Everything good, Jae?" you ask.

Jaehyun turns around, a sheepish smile creeping onto his lips, like something just occurred to him. "Oh, um..." He rubs the back of his neck, playing it off casually. "I was just wondering... it's pretty late, so do you maybe wanna grab dinner together?"

Jungkook, still perched at the kitchen island, picks up on the sudden question instantly and his fingers halt over the keyboard. His back stiffens but his eyes remain fixed on the screen as he waits for you to respond.

"Dinner?" You echo, blinking as though you need a second to let it register. "Oh... yeah, dinner sounds good." you say with a small nod.

Jaehyun's lips twitch into a subtle grin—an almost imperceptible curve of victory, like he's already claimed what he was after. But before he can solidify his win, before he can turn that small triumph into something more, you cut through it with your gentle, unaffected voice.

"Let me ask Kook to join us too!" you chirp, turning back towards the living room without a second thought. "Wouldn't want him to cook alone, you know?"

Jaehyun freezes for half a beat, blinking as the easy confidence slips just slightly from his face. That? That was not what he had in mind.

He was envisioning something different... just the two of you, a quiet dinner where he could lean in close and talk, make you laugh, maybe inch his way into something more. What he wasn't expecting was for you to bring your nerdy roommate along.

Jungkook, from his place in the apartment, hears the shuffle of your feet as you approach him, and he already knows what's coming. He knows you so well. Knew you'd never leave him behind.

For a moment, he lets himself exhale, the knot that had been coiling in his chest loosening just a little. He had braced himself for the possibility of you heading out alone with Jaehyun, braced for the discomfort, the overthinking that would haunt him for the rest of the night.

But you, being you, the sweet angel that you are, would obviously never leave him behind. And that thought, even if it's just for dinner, makes him feel all giddy.

He can already picture the mild irritation on Jaehyun's face. The guy's probably seething behind that polite mask, regretting ever asking in the first place. That thought alone tugs a subtle smirk onto Jungkook's lips... small and barely noticeable, but it's still there nonetheless.

"Kook, me and Jaehyun are going to grab dinner. Wanna come with?" You say it so casually, so sweetly, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like his presence would only make the evening better.

So, who the hell is he to say no to that? Not when you're looking at him like that—eyes sparkling like stardust, lips curled into that soft, pretty smile that feels like it was made just for him. Like you hung the moon without even trying.

And sure, on any other night, he'd probably hate the thought of sitting through a meal with a stranger, especially someone like Jaehyun, but tonight? Tonight, he wants nothing more than to tag along and be there.

Even if it means enduring Jaehyun's smugness. Even if it means biting his tongue until his jaw aches. Even if it means sitting through forced conversations and subtle digs, pretending not to notice the way Jaehyun acts like he's beneath him or whatever. 

Because in the end, being there with you, will always outweigh all of that.

Jaehyun clenches his fists at his sides, as he struggles to maintain the polite, easy-going smile he's perfected over time. It's taking every ounce of self-restraint not to let his irritation seep through as he watches you animatedly chatter about some random show, while your arm remains casually looped around Jungkook's.

Not only does he have to tolerate the presence of this insufferable nerd, but he also has to witness the two of you nestled so comfortably together? This was definitely not the kind of evening he was looking forward to.

Jungkook, on the other hand, barely registers Jaehyun's existence anymore.

He's too caught up in you—smiling to himself as he listens to your endless rambling, the kind that always veers off into tangents, hopping from plot twists to character arcs, and somehow looping back to an inside joke only the two of you understand.

He's so absorbed, so content, that he's forgotten Jaehyun is even trailing along beside you.

"Oh! There's the diner!" you suddenly exclaim, your eyes lighting up as you point towards the familiar spot, the little place you and Jungkook have frequented on countless lazy nights when cooking felt like too much work.

"Let's go." Jaehyun forces out with a nod, plastering on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He trails behind as you tug Jungkook forward, still holding onto his arm, leaving Jaehyun feeling like the third wheel he never expected to be.

When you step into the diner, you and Jungkook instinctively drift towards your usual table by the window, the one that's practically become yours over time and Jaehyun trails behind, his eyes briefly scanning the place before settling on the two of you.

"You guys get comfortable—I'll go place the order." you chime, your voice light with excitement as Jungkook nods, taking a seat. "Me and Kook are getting our usual burgers... what about you, Jaehyun?" you ask, your smile bright.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat, lowering himself across from Jungkook. "Oh... yeah, I guess I'll have the burger too." he replies, attempting casualness. "Perfect!" you beam, giving a little thumbs-up before turning on your heel and heading towards the counter.

Jungkook and Jaehyun sit face to face, the absence of your warmth leaving a tangible void between them, like the air itself cools the second you step away.

Jungkook has never been good at eye contact; it's always made him feel exposed, like someone could see right through him. But this time, he forces himself to hold Jaehyun's gaze. It's not confidence, it's defiance.

A quiet, stubborn refusal to let Jaehyun think he holds any power here. That his presence, his smirks, his calculated little victories, could ever rattle him.

Jaehyun leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest, eyes narrowing just the faintest bit. He lets out a breathy scoff and neither of them say a word, but the tension hums louder than any conversation could.

Their eyes lock like two opposing forces testing the limits of the space they share. It's almost childish, this silent standoff, but they're both not willing to be the first to look away. It's as though they're shooting invisible lasers through their pupils, measuring each other in the quietest, most passive-aggressive battle known to man.

"Here we go..." you sing-song, balancing a tray with three burgers and a generous side of fries as you make your way back to the table. You're blissfully unaware of the silent warzone you're about to walk into.

Both Jungkook and Jaehyun immediately snap out of their intense, wordless staring contest, their gazes shifting to you with something alarmingly close to desperation. The air between them, once brimming with unspoken rivalry, pauses, suspended by a single, all-important question.

Where are you going to sit?

There's an empty spot beside each of them, and for a brief second, they're both holding their breaths, like their entire evening depends on this one moment. It's ridiculous, really, two grown men waiting like nervous schoolboys to see which side you'll choose, as though your choice is about to crown the evening's winner.

You place the tray on the table, eyes flitting between the two empty seats as if you're carefully weighing your options.

Truthfully, you're not.

Your phone’s battery is barely hanging on, and the seat beside Jaehyun just so happens to be the closest to the charging socket—that’s all there is to it.

 You need your phone to keep up with your little ritual of posting an Instagram story of your meal, something you’ve done every time you visit this diner. And since you forgot to bring your power bank, the charging socket is your only saving grace.

So when you step towards the chair next to Jaehyun, he shifts slightly, trying to mask his triumph under the guise of casual nonchalance.

He raises a hand to his mouth, rubbing at his jaw and the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who, watches the scene unfold from across the table, already mentally preparing himself for an evening of internal suffering.

But when you pull out the chair—you pause.

Your nose scrunches, eyes narrowing as you spot a faint, dried-up glob of what looks suspiciously like mayo crusted onto the edge of the seat. It's small, barely noticeable, but enough to make you grimace.

"Hey, Jae... would you mind shifting there?" you question, pointing to the seat next to Jungkook.

Both men freeze.

Jaehyun's smirk drops so fast it's almost audible, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief while Jungkook's brows flick upwards in surprise, mouth parting slightly before he schools his face back into something neutral, though the barely-there twitch at the corner of his lips betrays him.

This... this was not the outcome either of them had prepared for, but it's safe to say Jungkook's partly satisfied.

Jaehyun however, hesitates, like he's considering protesting, but you quickly flash him that sheepish, apologetic grin, the one that makes it impossible to say no to you. "I'm so sorry... This seat's a little dirty plus I really need to charge my phone, and the socket's right here." you explain, pointing to the outlet on the wall.

Jaehyun forces out a tight smile. "Yeah, of course... No problem." he says, standing up to move to the other seat, landing next to Jungkook with the enthusiasm of someone being sentenced to life in prison.

You flash him a sweet, oblivious smile before finally settling into the seat and plugging in your charger with a small, satisfied hum.

Soon enough, the meal is underway. Conversation flows easily—well, mostly between you and Jaehyun. The two of you chat about random classes and how brutal last week's quiz was, nothing too deep, but enough to make Jungkook feel like a third wheel at a study date he never agreed to.

He picks at his fries, half-listening, half-zoning out, until suddenly, you burst into laughter—loud and unfiltered, the kind that makes your eyes squeeze shut and your hand fly up to cover your mouth and it jolts Jungkook back into the present. 

His gaze flicks to you instantly because when you laugh like that, everything else just fades. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes crinkled at the corners, that light, breathless giggle spilling out like music.

And dammit, Jaehyun, out of all people, is the one who made you laugh and somehow, that realization makes Jungkook bites into his burger a little too aggressive, like it personally offended him.

"No, but seriously..." Jaehyun continues, fighting back his own laughter. "First week of college, right? I'm at this super boring seminar. Room's packed. Everyone's dead silent and the professor's giving this whole speech about the meaning of existence or whatever—like, proper 'stare into the void' kinda stuff."

Jungkook has no idea where this is going, and even though he doesn't particularly want to care, he still listens. Because, seriously, what could possibly be so funny?

"But I was bored out of my mind, right? So, I sneak out my phone—'cause obviously, I'd rather watch something on my phone than spiral into an existential crisis." Jaehyun says and you giggle, nodding along, fully invested.

"But guess what? My phone's on full volume. And out of nowhere—like, cutting through all this profound silence, it goes: 'HURRICANE KATRINA? MORE LIKE HURRICANE TORTILLA!'"

(vine reference link)

You absolutely lose it, slapping the table as laughter erupts from you. "STOP—NOT HURRICANE TORTILLA—" you wheeze, clutching your stomach.

Jungkook pauses mid-chew, eyes narrowing slightly as he wonders what the hell is a... hurricane tortilla? He glances between you two, trying to decode what exactly has you guys dying.

Jaehyun keeps going. "The professor stops talking and the whole room just goes... dead silent and everyone's looking at me like I just committed a crime while I'm just sitting there like—'welp, guess I'll drop out.'"

"I—oh my god—I can't—'hurricane tortilla'—I'm actually cryinggg." you gasp between fits of laughter, wiping at the tears gathering in your eyes. Jungkook just blinks, utterly lost. He leans in slightly, brows furrowed. "...What's a hurricane tortilla?"

Jaehyun's head snaps towards him, eyes widening with exaggerated disbelief. "No way. You're joking, right?" He lets out a sharp laugh, dripping with condescension. "Y/n, you're telling me you live with this uncultured man who doesn't know what a hurricane tortilla is?"

You don't dignify Jaehyun's snide remark with a response. Instead, you turn to Jungkook with a soft smile, the kind that instantly disarms him. Your eyes hold nothing but warmth, no trace of ridicule.

You know he doesn't keep up with this kind of stuff, and that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

"Oh, Kook." you murmur. "It's just a vine. Remember? Those short, funny videos I showed you? Like six seconds long?"

Jungkook's expression softens as the memory washes over him. Of course, he remembers.

That afternoon on the couch, when you had excitedly told him you wanted to show him some "vines". Truthfully, he hadn't really gotten most of them. Some flew right over his head, and he barely found them funny. But he'd never admit it aloud because, honestly, it was never about the vines.

It was about you. The way you had curled up beside him, so close that your shoulder pressed into his while your bright laughter spilled freely, like music that played just for him. The way you'd nudge him with your elbow whenever you found something extremely funny, your pretty eyes crinkling with joy as if inviting him to share in that happiness.

He remembers how his heart raced more from the warmth of your thigh brushing against his than from anything on the screen. How every time you leaned in, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, felt like he could drown completely in the sound of it and never come up for air.

And most of all, he remembers how he didn't want it to end. 

How he could've stayed there, just like that, for hours—watching videos that barely made any sense to him, but that's okay, because getting to hear you laugh like that was all that truly mattered. 

"Yeah... I remember." he says after a beat, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah so, the hurricane tortilla thing? It's just from one of those." you explain, still sweet, still patient, like you're always willing to meet him where he's at.

Eventually, you all wrap up at the diner and step out. The tension between Jungkook and Jaehyun still remains unnoticed by you while they exchange subtle glares, every few minutes, each one laced with unspoken rivalry.

"So, I guess we'll head back now." you say, standing on the pavement with your hands inside your pockets, protecting yourself from the night breeze. Jaehyun gives Jungkook one last look, a brief, pointed glance that's more challenge than farewell, before turning to you with a smile.

And then, without warning, he steps forward, arms looping around you in an embrace. It catches you off guard, but you don't hesitate to return the hug, your arms wrapping around his shoulders with ease, though there's a flicker of surprise in your eyes.

Jungkook, on the other hand, stiffens. His jaw tightens, fists curling at his sides as he watches Jaehyun's arms settle a little too comfortably around your waist. It's not just the hug that gets to him—it's the way Jaehyun looks at him over your shoulder, a smug, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Like he's winning.

And maybe he is. At least, that's what it feels like to Jungkook in that moment.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow." Jaehyun breathes out as he pulls away, his hand lingering a second too long on your waist. You nod, smiling, completely unaware of the silent battle that's just taken place right behind your back.

"See you around, dude." Jaehyun adds, tossing Jungkook a dismissive nod before turning on his heel and strolling away with all the confidence of someone who thinks he's just claimed victory.

Jungkook exhales slowly, forcing his fists to uncurl at his sides, trying to tame the little green goblin of jealousy that a single hug has so effortlessly stirred to life.

"Let's go, Kook?" Your gentle voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking at you, your eyes bright under the streetlights and his silly little heart stumbles over itself as usual. "I—uhh... yeah. Of course." he stammers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The night air is cool, wrapping around you in a gentle breeze as the streets hum with distant traffic. Neon shop signs flicker, casting fleeting shades of color onto the pavement as you and Jungkook walk side by side.

You let out a satisfied hum, rubbing a hand over your stomach. "I swear, I'm never getting tired of that diner." you giggle, and Jungkook glances at you, the corners of his lips curling up. "I think at this point, they should just name a booth after you." he teases.

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "That would be the dream, honestly. But it's not just me, you know? You've been there as much as I have. So I guess we both deserve a picture on the wall that says Most Loyal Customers of the Decade."

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "That would be nice, I guess." he says sheepishly.

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment before you stretch your arms over your head. "Honestly, I'm glad I was able to make Jae try it out." you add casually, glancing at Jungkook and he nods, but his smile dims just slightly.

Maybe it's the way Jaehyun has so easily made his way into this conversation, or maybe it's the casual way you use his nickname... whatever it is, it makes Jungkook's stomach churn in a way he doesn't particularly like.

Plus, the uneasy thoughts have been there for a while, lurking in the back of his mind, but he's always pushed it away. Tonight, though, it feels impossible to ignore. He suddenly wants to know what you really think about Jaehyun—wants to know if you see what he sees or if you're just oblivious to the way Jaehyun acts around you or the way he acts around Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales quietly, debating whether he should even say anything. But before he can stop himself, the words slip out. "So this... Jaehyun guy..." he starts, voice careful, like he's weighing each word before releasing it. You glance at him, curious. "Yeah?"

Jungkook hesitates for a second too long, his gaze fixed ahead as if avoiding your eyes will make this easier. "You guys have gotten pretty close lately." he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Oh, yeah..." You nod, swaying slightly as you walk. "Ever since we became partners for that assignment, we've been hanging out a lot. I mean, it's not anything too deep. It's just... our vibes match, you know?"

Vibes match.

Jungkook draws in a long inhale, his fists tightening inside his pockets. He wonders if his vibe has ever matched yours. You've lived together for so long... have spent late nights talking on the couch, have shared countless meals, have fallen into a rhythm so natural it almost feels like breathing.

But have you ever thought about it like that? Have you ever thought your vibes batch? Yours and His?

You're everything he's not and if Jaehyun's vibe matches yours, then where exactly does that leave Jungkook?

"He's funny." you continue, lips curving into a small smile. "And he gets my humor."

Jungkook hums at that, but the sound comes out a little sharper than he intended. He knows Jaehyun makes you laugh, he's seen it firsthand. Loud, breathless laughter that makes your eyes crinkle, the kind that shakes your whole body.

"But..." Jungkook exhales slowly, trying to sound casual even though the words feel like they're getting stuck on the way out. "I mean... I've noticed he's gotten really... comfortable around you."

He doesn't even know where he's going with this. He just knows it's been bothering him, gnawing at him like an itch he can't scratch. You blink, tilting your head. "What do you mean?"

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck, feeling utterly, painfully awkward. He wants to drop it, but at the same time, he doesn't.

"Like... like how he is at the apartment." he says, forcing the words out. "He just... makes himself at home. Like, he sits on the couch like it's his. He raids the fridge. He—" Jungkook stops himself, brows furrowing. "He acts like he lives there."

You let out a soft laugh, but not in a way that makes him feel dismissed. "Ah, yeah, that's just how he is." you say with a small shrug. Jungkook presses his lips together, the unease still sitting heavy in his chest.

"But what's wrong?" you ask, your voice gentler now, sensing there's more to this than what he's saying. "Does he make you uncomfortable?" You tilt your head, genuine concern etched in your features.

"No... um, no, nothing like that." he denies way too quickly. "I was just wondering if you're comfortable with how he is." He turns it back on you. You smile at that. "Oh, Kook, were you worried about me?" you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Yeah... you... you could say that." His ears burn, and he wishes his mouth would just shut up. "I was just wondering about your dynamic, that's all." he adds, trying to sound nonchalant and you blink at him, amused. 

"Our dynamic?"

Jungkook nods stiffly.

"Like I said, our vibes match." you repeat. "But again, he's just my assignment partner, you know? He's nice to work with and joke around with."

Jungkook nods along, forcing himself to absorb your words, to let them settle the gnawing feeling inside him.

"But if he makes you uncomfortable at the apartment, then I can just go to his place for the assignment, you know? He did ask me to—"

"No !!" Jungkook blurts, way too fast, way too loud and your eyes widen for a brief second.

God, that would be worse. Having you go to Jaehyun's place, where Jungkook wouldn't be around, where he wouldn't know what was happening—where Jaehyun would have the liberty to do anything. That's not even the last thing Jungkook wants.

"No... I meant, he doesn't make me uncomfortable. So please..." He exhales shakily. "Please continue working at our apartment." He doesn't even try to hide the urgency in his voice making you laugh. "Okay, okay." you say, nodding your head. "But do tell me if you're uncomfortable, alright?"

Jungkook nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he watches you. 

You don't see it, don't see the way Jaehyun looks at you, don't see the way he treats Jungkook like an afterthought.

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he's just overthinking. Maybe he's just being paranoid, reading too much into things that don't mean anything. Maybe it's all in his head. But the irritating, tormenting feeling remains like a dull, nagging weight in his chest that refuses to settle

It feels like something is lodged between his ribs, pressing against his lungs, making every breath feel just a little too tight.

Yet, he exhales slowly, shuts his eyes, and tells himself to let it go, to swallow all the weird thoughts and bury them somewhere they can’t reach him.

Jaehyun's just an assignment partner. 

Nothing more. Nothing deep.

part 2 -> (coming soon)

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my masterlist <3

TAGLISTS CLOSED <333

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[girlkisser13]

being married to toji fushiguro would include

• toji is fiercely protective of you, even if he doesn’t always express it. he doesn’t hover or ask if you’re okay every five minutes, but he notices when something’s off and is always there to back you up.

• he doesn’t say "i love you" often, but his actions speak louder than words— shielding you from harm or making sure you’re always safe, especially when the dangers of his life as a former assassin creep in. still, he’d maintain his space, valuing his independence but always watching out for you.

• he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t put up with nonsense, so when it comes to household matters, he’s straightforward.

• if there’s a problem, he deals with it quickly, often in a practical manner. that said, he’d also likely appreciate the quiet comfort of being at home with you, especially after a long day of dealing with the outside world.

• while toji doesn’t come across as soft, there are moments when he shows his care in small ways— maybe brushing your hair out of your face or sharing a fleeting but tender look when you’re alone.

• he’s not one for big romantic gestures, but when he does something for you, it’s meaningful, like getting you your favorite drink or taking care of things when you’re overwhelmed.

• he may not always have a lot to say, but if you’re going through something difficult, toji is there for you. he’d stay silent, listening without judgment, and give you a quiet, reassuring presence.

• his support might not be verbal, but his actions would show that he’s there for the long haul, no matter what.

• if you two had kids, toji would be a hands-on (we are ignoring the fact that he is canonically an absent father), though unconventional, father.

• he’ll play it cool, acting like he’s not that interested, but you’ll catch him watching baby videos on his phone when he thinks you’re not looking.

• he’d teach them about survival, how to fight, and how to protect what’s theirs, all while being the solid, reliable figure they need, even if he doesn’t know how to express it all the time.

• toji’s not great with emotions, but he’ll secretly adore his kids, and you’ll know it by the way he keeps an eye on them from a distance or his subtle ways of making sure they have what they need, even when he won’t say it out loud.

• the trust between you two would be solid. toji would expect you to be honest with him, and he’d give you the same respect. you wouldn’t need to speak all the time to understand each other; there’d be a deep, unspoken connection, even in the moments of silence.

• don’t expect anything overly sweet or cheesy. toji’s idea of romance might involve getting you something practical, like new clothes for a dangerous mission or fixing something around the house.

• but those small acts of care would mean more to you than any grand gesture.

• life with toji is a rollercoaster of questionable financial choices.

• his idea of a budget is more of a vague suggestion. you could go to bed with a full savings account, and by morning, he’s bought a motorcycle, a new set of knives (because he deserves them), and a ridiculously expensive set of rare steaks— because, apparently, that’s how you live life.

• he will ALWAYS justify impulse buys with, "it was on sale."

• toji is very independent, and while he might not ask for help, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it. if something breaks or goes wrong around the house, he’ll absolutely try to fix it himself first— no matter how unqualified he is for the job.

• broken sink? he’ll attempt to fix it with duct tape and some questionable youtube tutorials. the worst part? he’s usually successful… in a very "that’ll work for now" way.

• he doesn’t exactly plan grand romantic gestures, but when he does do something sweet, it’s always unexpected.

• like that time he brought home your favorite food when you didn’t ask for it, or when you were having a rough day, and he somehow found the exact book you were looking for, even though you didn’t mention it. it’s not always flashy, but it’s the little things that show he’s paying attention.

• also, this man is WAYY too confident.

• he’s usually pretty calm, but when he’s certain about something— whether it’s a decision, a plan, or a random idea— good luck trying to change his mind.

• he’ll insist he’s right, even if he’s 99% sure he’s not, and he’ll have a smug look on his face while doing it. it’s an annoying habit, but somehow, he pulls it off.

• toji’s idea of date night involves grabbing takeout and binge-watching random action movies, preferably while he’s armed with snacks he’s "borrowed" from the convenience store.

• he’s surprisingly a pretty good cook (when he takes his time).

• it’s usually something straightforward— steak, grilled chicken, or ramen— but when he actually tries, it’s surprisingly tasty. the best part? he’ll act like it’s no big deal, even though you know he’s secretly proud of himself for not burning anything.

• toji is your scary dog privilege.

• he exudes an aura of danger, which makes you feel untouchable. not that he tries to look intimidating, but it’s hard not to notice when people start treating you both with a certain amount of caution just because he’s around.

• whether it’s the way he moves, the way he talks, or just the fact that people know better than to cross him, you’ll get used to the unspoken respect (or fear) that follows him.

• he’s not the type to smother you with affection, but he has his ways of showing he cares. whether it’s leaving a random "you good?" text, adjusting your coat when he notices you’re cold, or letting you take the last slice of pizza (even though he’s definitely eyeing it).

• while toji is pretty sharp when it comes to violence or strategy, he’s totally lost when it comes to social situations or subtle hints.

• you’ll find yourself frequently having to explain things multiple times because he either didn’t catch your tone or completely misinterpreted the situation.

• if you try to drop hints, he’ll stare at you blankly, and then you’ll have to go into full detail before he understands what you’re saying. it’s frustrating, but also kind of endearing, considering how smart he is in other areas.

• although he’ll never openly say it, in those quiet moments when he watches you sleep or shares a rare smile, you know you’re his soft spot. toji fushiguro has made you his world, and his devotion to you speaks louder than words ever could. <33

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In His Hands

summary: joaquin takes care of you in the face of your anxiety.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

wc: 2,018

contents: 18+/MINORS DNI, SMUT, established relationship, anxiety, oral sex (f!receiving), teasing, pet names

an: been thinking about joaquin being soooo accomodating + sweet, so here's the finished product. MINORS DNI i stg!!!

marvel masterlist

“Joaquin, don’t,” You whine, keeping your eyes on the study materials strewn about the coffee table. 

“Don’t what?” He asks, feigning innocence.

Though you can’t see him, you can hear the smile in his voice. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Ya sabes qué,” You suggest, reaching out to lazily brush his hand away from your shoulder.

He had started to rub them, massaging the tension out of your shoulders that always finds a home there. It’s sweet and you appreciate his care, but Joaquin’s touch is like a drug. Saccharine and sensual, it makes your insides warm in ways you didn’t know were possible until you fell in love with him. 

“Oh this,” He murmurs nonchalantly. His hands don’t stop, continuing to rub out the knots in your flesh. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m trying to study,” You say matter of factly.

“You’ve been studying all damn day, querida. You could use a break.”

“I can’t afford to break, the test is tomorrow. I need to cram as much information into my brain as I can.”

“You know so much already— look, it’ll be a piece of cake. You can do this, se que sí.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re the goddamn Falcon. This is important to me, Quino. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and I know you know how that feels. To want something so bad it feels like you can’t breathe.”

Joaquin did know. Looking up to Sam for all those years, wishing and waiting— working harder than he thought was possible brought him to where he is now. But, he’d also had you for a lot of that. Always there to make sure he was taking care of himself, that he didn’t wither away who he truly was for his dreams. He would always repay the favor; it’s what you deserve. 

“I know, querida, I know. This is important, but so are you. You’re so stressed— feel how tight you’re wound,” He murmurs, taking your hand and placing it on your shoulder. He’s right, your shoulders feel like bricks. 

“I could help with that,” He insists.

“You aren’t playing fair,” You whisper, leaning your head back against the couch as he increases the strength of his hands.

“Never said I would, baby,” He teases, planting a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, qué quires hmm? ��Qué puedo hacer por ti?”

You shiver at the smooth sensuality of his words but still have the mind to tease him. “Aren’t you the one who distracted me? What do you want?” 

He guides your head to one side, rubbing at the base of your neck in a way that makes you pant. “That requires demonstration. Will you be my volunteer tonight?”

“I’m your volunteer every night,” You quip half heartedly. 

“I never hear any complaints,” His lips brush your ear as he strengthens the pressure of his fingers on your scalp. “Tell me, mi amor. What do you want?”

There’s no turning back now— he’s got you right where he wants you. And there’s no place you’d rather be right now. 

“Just…help me relax a little?” You breathe, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Mmm. Stay right there for me. Don’t move a muscle, okay?”

“Mhmm,” You hum. A whine slips from your lips when you lose contact with his warmth, but soon he reappears, his hands smoothing up your thighs. 

“Lean back, head against the couch for me.” He watches you comply, grinning as he praises you, “Good girl. Now hips up, these shorts gotta go.”

You raise your hips without any defiance, and he slips them and your panties away, discarding them across the room. You’re nearly trembling with anticipation despite the fact that he’s barely touched you. 

He notices and in typical Joaquin fashion, refuses to breeze past it. Gently, teasingly, he sinks his teeth into your thigh before soothing the spot with a kiss. “I haven’t even started yet, querida and you’re already shaking. I do that to you, hmm?”

“Mhmm,” You hum again, becoming more malleable under his touch with each second that passes.

“Just me. Now, open up,” He murmurs, using his hands to spread you open for him. “There we go, mira qué preciosa.” 

“Quino, mi amor,” You sigh, letting one of your hands drop to card through his silky hair.

The picture you two paint right now is as sensual as it is explicit. Your head thrown back against the couch, legs spread beneath the coffee table to accommodate Joaquin and his touch.

All you can think about is what it would feel like for his mouth to finally be on you. At that  thought, your brow furrows…several moments have passed and you’re still without him. You squirm against him expectantly.

He huffs a laugh, breath warm against where you need him most. “You gonna tell me what you’re wanting?”

“Joaquin,” You murmur, beginning to grow frustrated by his teasing.

“You know how much I love to hear it.” He pauses, lips hovering just inches away from your sensitive skin, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re mine, querida. You know you are.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, his possessiveness only making you ache for him more.

“Touch me, Joaquin. This isn’t very relaxing, I thought I was promised that,” You challenge, tilting your hips up further to try and close the gap yourself. The words come out sharp, but there's a flicker of need in your voice that betrays the frustration of not getting what you want.

“Alright, querida, you got me there. Stay still for me,” He commands, his own blood now burning with desire. 

He starts a slow dance of laying sweet, alternating kisses on the delicate skin of your thighs. You know that he’s done teasing by the focused trail he’s leaving, the way his hands grip you and hold you open more firmly. And then his mouth is on you, tongue flicking gently against your clit. 

Heat pools in your belly, liquid and inescapable. You rest more heavily against the couch as you press up into Joaquin’s mouth, needy and mindless with want. There’s nothing like being at his mercy– he knows all of your spots, the speed and pressure you need to tip over the edge into ecstasy. He always takes care of you, never making you feel less than adored. 

He hums into your pussy, his nose brushing at your clit as his tongue dips lower to lap at your slick with more firmness. The taste nearly drives him into a frenzy, desperate to make you cum again and again for that concentrated taste of you. But he reminds himself that this is for you. This is to melt away your anxieties, to replace all the worry in your brain and body with nothing but pleasure and security.

Even as he increases his intensity, it's still steady with the intent to savor you. You continue to tremble against him, hips falling into a rhythm to match the pace of his tongue. He lingers when he feels your breath catch more sharply or when you whimper, reveling in how responsive you are to his touch.

“Mas, Quino, please,” You plead, your fingers gripping his hair more firmly.

He groans, eyes fluttering at the mix of pleasure and pain he gets from you tugging at his locs. “You sure?” 

He wandyou to be sure because he would be happy to lay here between your legs and serve you for the rest of the night. For the rest of his life if you let him, and god he hopes you’ll let him. 

“Yes. Please. Please, Joaquin.”

“Tranquila, baby, I’ve got you. Just relax, hmm? Let me make you cum on my tongue,” He coaxes softly and at the same time so slowly, he presses a single finger inside of you. 

“God, yes,” You groan, planting one of your feet flat on the ground so that you can buck against him. 

Even with just one of his fingers you feel so full, made to take him and him alone in any way that he’ll give it.

Joaquin’s mouth grows more insistent, and he leans back to get you wetter, spitting on your clit before his tongue glides through your folds. “Yeah? Like that?”

“Mhmm,” You whimper, your chest starting to rise and fall frantically.  

“Hips down, honey, let me do all the work. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“But, I need more,” You whine impatiently, hips not stilling. 

“I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, anything you need, I’ll give to you,” He promises, pressing in another finger.

The delicious stretch winds you, the smooth movement of your hips stuttering as you succumb to him feeding your body what it needs. He stops all the teasing, stripping himself of the patience he’d built up so that he can ravage you the way you need. 

He’s as starved as you in the way he eats you out, messy and rushed, his fingers hooking to press incessantly at the sensitive spot inside you, making your legs clench around his head. You and Joaquin worked together seamlessly, the sound of his fingers inside you growing wetter and wetter as he winds you tighter and tighter.

“C’mon, querida, damelo. I can feel you. Let go,” He encourages tenderly in direct opposition of the urgency of his mouth and fingers.

It's all you need to fall over the edge, tumbling and tumbling more deeply into a pool of pleasure. Joaquin doesn’t stop, extending your high. Your hand knots further into his hair, and you pivot up against his tongue, taking all you need from him. Once he’s rung every drop from your body he withdraws his fingers, placing one last adoring kiss to your clit. 

With grace, he maneuvers from between your legs and comes to sit beside you, gathering you in his arms. “How was that? Feeling relaxed?”

“Mhmm, very relaxed,” You lean into him gratefully, feeling floaty.

He drops a kiss on your temple. He strokes your back with slow, comforting motions, a gentle reminder that even after all this, he’s there to hold you—body and soul. “Good, mi amor. Tienes hambre?”

The faint smell of his cologne clings to you as you lean into him, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips.  “Mhmm.”

“Is mhmm all you can manage right now?” He teases.

“Mhmm.”

He laughs with his entire body, shaking the both of you. “Let me get up to get you something alright? Don’t say mhmm.”

“Alright,” You agree through a laugh.

He kisses you one last time before hopping up, heading towards the kitchen.

“Joaquin?”

He looks at you over his shoulder, raising a brow at you playfully, “Mhmm?”

“I love you.”

His face softens, grin goofy and adoring. “Te amo.”

—

“See? I told you you could, mi amor. Don’t doubt my girl or my methods,” He cups your cheek to kiss you breathless before producing the bouquet of flowers he hid behind his back. “I’m so proud of you.”

Your smile is childlike and giddy as you take the flowers from him. Leaning in once more you softly brush your mouth against his. You’re grateful for his presence, his support, his unwavering belief in you. “Gracias, Joaquin. No pude hacerlo sin ti.”

“¿Ah, sí? I’m the secret sauce, baby?” He teases lowly, crowding you against the wall despite being in a S.H.I.E.L.D testing facility.  

You feel your skin start to warm, butterflies breezing through your tummy. 

“You still feel warm, querida.” His voice dips, low and knowing. “Did I work you too hard?”

“You’re the worst.”

“And somehow the best. I can do it all.”

You roll your eyes playfully, pushing him back so that you can start down the hall. 

“We absolutely can’t work together in the field if you’re going to be so brazen,” You muse, studying the perfect bouquet in your hands. 

“Aw, cmon, I thought it would be fun. Let me change your mind,” He calls after you.

“You’ll have to work harder than you did last night to change my mind.”

His grin widens. “Challenge accepted.”

to join the joaquin torres taglist you must be 18+!

joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @moonymeloncholymoney, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuff, @lisiliely, @spider-steve

[aziemniak]

For those who somehow missed this gem, yes the polish written Z spam is true and yes "Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz" still has a fuckton of consonants even if you account for the fact that all of its Z's and the consonants before them are treated as a single phonetic sound, and it does pass as a normal Polish name but the funniest part is. It is actually a fictional name made up by a fictional character specifically to fuck with the nazis (and after the transcriber finally gets that bs down he gets a "Chrząszczyżewoszyce powiat Łękołody" for a place of residence)

But ya'll better strap in 'cause I don't wanna talk about the Z's, their double-consonants or how we eat all those consonants like they're snacks. Those at least are simple, consistent and easy to memorize. You know what's convoluted, makes no sense, and will take you a decade of on-hands experience if you didn't have the luck of being raised with the language? Fucking declensions. Like I get that Polish is neither the exception nor the champion of convoluted grammatical cases but I'm just Very Normal about grammatical cases and how they are nearly absent from English. So, picture this: you've managed to learn the world "woman" and want to use it in a sentence! Is: 1. the woman executing the verb in the sentence? 2. it about the woman in the sentence? 3. the woman subjected to the actions in the sentence? 4. it about the woman in the sentence because for some fucking reason you can have two different cases for most nouns depending on the verb used even though this case's function is so similar to No.2 I can't come up with a better example right now? 5. the verb executed with the woman? 6. the action about the woman? 7. Or are you simply trying to call out to or adress her? And while this is an exhaustive list of cases it is by no means an exhaustive list of supplementary questions (tbf the questions I supplied are pretty ass because analyzing linguistics funtions is hard). Good luck memorizing which verb calls for which declension. Oh and the general declension suffixes change depending on the grammatical gender and whether or not the noun's non-animate, animate or personified. Good luck with that too. You're still not done yet because a lot of nouns just like having exceptions to either the general declension suffix or the word's core. Once again, good. Luck. You have to do this for all nouns, pronouns, adjectives and numbers, by the way. And yes, the natives can all tell if you mess up a single one but they're not gonna bother correcting you because they'd have to interrupt your every other sentence and that's rude (and we like to hear people struggle I guess). And you'd think it's just one of those language quirks that is stupidly convoluted for no reason but no. All of this actually does serve One Particular Function I can think of off the top of my head. All of this is just what it takes for a language to have sentences capable of leaving their grammatical subject at the gas station while also having a word order made of liquid that are perfectly understable and sound entirely natural about 80% of the time.

tumblr: on languages

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ɢʀʏꜰꜰɪɴᴅᴏʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚. 🂼 Losing Game.

Short Summary: being drunk sometimes means making reckless decisions, though agreeing on a bet with Tom Riddle might just top the list.

Warnings: 18+ only! rough oral m!receiving, slight dub con ig, Tom Riddle is a little bitch, no aftercare

A/N: first fic in ten days! finished my thesis and handed it in. SHDFJSKKF

also, this fic is based on this request! tysm for requesting! <3

wordcount: 2,5k

As soon as you saw the exam papers, you knew. 

You’d lose the bet.

A bet that was your idea in the first place.

—

Tom and you have been fierce rivals ever since you started Hogwarts. Always trying to outdo one another, striving for perfection on every single exam and paper you had to hand in.

It’s the day before your Potions exam. You shouldn’t be doing this—getting ready for the party in Slytherin’s common room when you know a late-night study session would be the only way to save you from embarrassment the next day.

Yet, you couldn’t miss out on a fun night with your friends, the ones that keep telling you to stop worrying about your grades so much, to finally take a day off studying.

If they only knew.

After you finish, you take a look in the mirror—neat makeup, hair perfectly styled, tall black heels, burgundy dress, short, maybe too short—you don’t care. Tonight is about having fun and hopefully forgetting about your studies for a few hours.

Flickering green lights and the heavy beat of the music wrap around you as you enter the room, immediately engulfing you in the party’s atmosphere, the smell of alcohol and spilled drinks heavy in the air. Your eyes dart around the place in an attempt to find your friends, but before you get the chance to do so, you spot another familiar face. Familiar in an unpleasant way.

He’s casually leaning against the wall, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other lifts his drink—firewhisky, you assume—to his lips. And he sees you too—a smug grin playing on his lips as his eyes shamelessly drop lower, wandering over your exposed skin before he returns them to your now flushed face.

Tom Riddle—head boy, former prefect, know-it-all. House rivals. He’s always tried to get under your skin with anything he could think of. If he outscored you by more than five points, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Merlin, how you despised him.

You silently curse him under your breath, shaking your head as you continue making your way through the crowd. Your skin tingles with the memory of his lingering gaze, already regretting your choice to put on your shortest dress.

As the night goes on, you almost forget about him, your friends keeping you busy with conversations and games. It’s not until after midnight that you see him again—coincidentally just after your friends left your side to get new drinks.

You don’t even realise it’s him until he’s standing in front of you, until you feel his eyes on your skin yet again. You look up at him, meeting his amused expression.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow as he gently sways his drink in his hand.

“Unlike you, I have a life, Riddle. I don’t bury myself in books all day.”

“Judging by your grades, that’s what you should be doing. Instead of…” he pauses, eyes roaming over your cleavage to your thighs and back up. “Going to a party in that dress.”

A scoff leaves your lips. That idiot.

“Yeah? Seems like you can’t get enough of it, hm?”

His eyes darken at your words, and merely the fact that he doesn’t have a smug comeback ready tells you you’ve hit a nerve. You are right. He was checking you out.

A satisfied grin forms on your lips as he turns around to leave without saying another word. However, overconfident with the buzz of alcohol rushing through your veins, an idea comes to your mind.

“Riddle,” you call out, voice barely audible above the loud music, and he stops in his tracks. “I bet I will outscore you tomorrow.”

The usual arrogant smirk returns, decorating his face as he retraces his steps, stopping right in front of where you are sitting on the couch, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers.

“The alcohol is clearly getting to your head if you think you could beat me in any Potions exam.”

You scoff, but deep down you know he isn’t wrong. Potions isn’t your best subject by any means, while Tom seemingly had every potion perfected before you even discussed it in class. Maybe that was exactly what excited you in that moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Riddle. Even your ego can take a loss, I am sure of it.”

He nods then. “Fine. Although I expect an adequate prize. What that will be, I choose.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You shoot him a smile, and you don’t catch the last part of what he’s said until it’s too late.

“Good luck. You’ll need it.” He adds, before disappearing into the crowd, and you don’t see him again that night.

What that will be, I choose. His words keep repeating in your head when you are finally in bed, trying your hardest to fall asleep. Slowly sobering up, you can’t believe what you have done. You would never be able to even come close to him tomorrow—not with last bits of alcohol in your system, not with two hours of sleep, surely not with how much you have studied.

Fuck.

And of course, the inevitable happens. The exam is way too difficult, your mind still clouded, ears ringing as a result of your loud surroundings last night. You can’t concentrate no matter how hard you try, and finally decide to hand in early, before anyone else. 

You take one last look around the classroom before you leave, and immediately, your eyes lock with his. 

Tom has been watching your struggle with pleasure, knowing exactly what it meant—what he’d choose as his prize. From the second you initiated the bet, it’s been as clear as daylight what he’d want. .

A week later, and as expected, he has outscored you. In fact, he received the best grade possible on his exam. And you—you failed. Failed. You had never failed an exam before.

So, you have been waiting. Waiting for him to come to you and tell you what he’d want. But the moment hasn’t come—not even days later. 

The following weekend you find yourself at another party. You have expected him to talk to you there, preparing yourself with all sorts of drinks. Whatever he wants from you—and you fully expect it to be something humiliating—will be easier to endure with the courage you gain when you are slightly tipsy.

He’s there, you have seen him, but it doesn’t happen. He gives you that same arrogant smirk each time you see him, yet he never seeks a conversation. He might have forgotten. You hope he has forgotten.

The next day, after your final lesson of the day, you pack your belongings and leave the classroom. The corridors are empty at this hour as you make your way to the Gryffindor dormitories. You sigh as you turn the corner leading you out of the dungeons, ready to head to bed early after an exhausting day.

However, that plan shatters as a pair of strong arms shove you into an empty classroom, hand clamping over your mouth, muffling your attempts to scream.

The familiar scent of potion ingredients and old wood floods your senses as the door shuts behind you, quickly locked with a spell. And then, you finally see who has dragged you in here.

“Riddle, what the hell?” You whisper-yell, looking around you, scared someone has seen or heard you.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me.” He retorts smugly, not yet facing you, instead casting a silencing spell on the room. “And I am here to collect my prize.”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a bookshelf behind you. “What do you want?

Tom turns around then, looking at you for a second before he speaks.

“You. On your knees for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You wish he was joking, but the tone of his voice tells you differently. He’s a hundred percent serious about this.

“There is no way I am doing that.”

“Oh but you will. You lost, I get my prize. It’s only fair.”

A sharp exhale leaves your lips, rolling your eyes. “Could have done this when I was drunk. Wouldn’t have been as humiliating.”

“I don’t take advantage of drunk girls. Also,” a grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he guides you towards the wall, forcing you on your knees so that you are facing him. “Makes me enjoy it more.”

You shake your head slightly, looking up at him. “You are sick, I hope you are aware.”

“Get to work,” he orders, disregarding what you just said. He takes a step closer, fingertips brushing over your cheek, thumb softly tracing along your lips. The strain on the fabric of his trousers is evident as your shaky hands make work of his belt, carelessly dropping the leather on the floor with a low thud. He doesn’t bother stepping out of his clothes, leaving them to pool around his ankles.

You swallow as you take in his size, hesitantly reaching out. With your thumb, you softly swipe over his already with precum glistenting tip, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hand wraps around his length before you give him a few soft strokes, earning a low groan of approval from the brunette.

His patience snaps when you trace along a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, forcefully tilting your head back as his fingers tangle in your hair, having you meet his gaze.

“Can’t take a little bit of teasing, Riddle? That desperate for me?” You say smugly, eyes never leaving his as your grip around him tightens, speeding up.

“Thought I’d go easy on you, but turns out you don’t want me to.” He hisses, guiding your head towards him. Your lips wrap around him then, tongue swirling over his sensitive tip before you take him as deep as you can, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat.

It’s not long before his grip on your hair tightens, stilling your movements before he thrusts himself inside of you, deeper than you had taken him. You obey, laying your tongue flat in your mouth as his length slips further, holding you there until you gag around him.

Focusing on breathing through your nose, you relax your muscles, making space for all of him, his eyes shutting in pleasure each time your throat constricts, squeezing him even tighter.

“Look at you,” he rasps, a ragged breath leaving his lips as his dark eyes now stare down at you again, watching his cock disappear in your mouth with every snap of his hips. “So eager to please me. Knew you were nothing but a pathetic slut behind that facade you try to put up. Smart— fuck—  always trying to impress— but in reality, this is the only thing you are actually good at, hm?”

With his hands’ tight grip on your hair, holding you in place as he uses your mouth, you find yourself unable to give a proper response other than a muffled sound of agreement—something he doesn’t seem to be quite satisfied with.

You gasp, taking in a deep breath as Tom yanks your head back, pulling you off his length, now coated in your spit. A string of saliva connects his tip to your swollen, reddened lips, blinking away your tears.

“Answer me.”

“Fuck— yes, Riddle.”

He shakes his head slightly, tilting your head even further back so you are met with his strict gaze. “What’s my name?”

“Tom,” you whisper, “yes, Tom.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Remember it.”

Only a second later he is back inside of your warm mouth, holding onto your hair as leverage as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning as he feels you struggle for air, your hands holding onto his thighs for support.

You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how he is using you to get off, and yet, his soft gasps and groans as he gets closer to his release have you clenching your thighs together, desperately trying to ease the ache in your lower stomach.

“Hate to admit you were right. Can’t fucking get enough of you.” He grunts as you feel him twitch inside of you, spluttering around his cock as his thrusts grow harsher, tears running down your cheek as you try your best to take what he is giving you.

“Fuck— Show me—“ Tom breathes, hips stuttering, “show me whose good girl you are and swallow for me.” He barely gets the words out before he stills inside of you, the taste of his release flooding your senses as he empties himself inside of you—deep enough that swallowing is in fact the only option.

Still, he keeps your head pressed against his lower abdomen until he feels you swallow around him, only then pulling out of you.

Tom lets go of your hair then, and you sink against the cold brick wall behind you, utterly spent, jaw sore. You watch him getting dressed, mind still hazy when he walks towards you, looking like nothing happened—on the contrary to you.

“Look even prettier when you cry for me,” he remarks, taking in your state, wiping your tear-soaked cheeks with the back of his hand before he uses a spell to clean your chin and blouse.

And you let him do it, too tired and worn out to complain.

“I guess I have finally found a way to silence that bratty mouth of yours,” he mumbles when he is done, gently wiping a strand of hair from your face.

You look up at him then, hoarsely whispering a soft “Fuck you, Riddle.”

He offers you no other reply than his signature grin whenever he gets something he wants, his eyes fixated on you while he adjusts his robes.

“Tutoring for Potions every Thursday at 7 pm in the library. Don’t be late.” He says, exiting the classroom before you even get the chance to process his words.

You run out of curses to use for him by the time you reach your dorm, exhaustedly collapsing onto your bed. You tell yourself that no, you wouldn’t go because who does he think he is—yet it’s an offer you can’t decline.

So, every Thursday from then on, you find yourself studying for Potions under his guidance. It’s tough at first, but after just a few shared lessons, you realise he might not be that bad after all.

And soon enough, the next bet is made.

—

“If I outscore you tomorrow, I get to fuck you—properly.”

“You are delusional, Riddle.”

Naturally, you lose the bet.

The only difference: This time, you lose on purpose.

[copperbadge]

Sam has anyone told you that you’re already Jewish? Jewish is a mindset

Ah, hm, no, I can't agree with either half of the sentiment, I'm afraid, as kindly as it is meant.

There are many ways to be Jewish and the diversity with which Jews relate to their faith is one of the appeals for me, but I believe that if you wish to convert you have to put in the work of conversion. The way I've heard it put that I like best is "There are a lot of ways to be Jewish once you're Jewish, but you don't get to dictate how to become Jewish." (Within reason of course; there are several ways to convert, but all require the supervision of a Rabbi and a long process of study and preparation.)

I'm learning about the food and the prayers, the cultural touchstones, the holidays, the history, but I haven't done the formal work. There are massive gaps in my knowledge, even after several years. A Jewish friend of mine said to me once, "You know, I think it probably takes a convert a good ten years to truly acclimate to Judaism" and I kind of agree with her. Once you convert you are A Jew, and Rabbinic law says you should be treated as a Jew and the fact that you are a convert not brought up (for good reason), but a gentile simply cannot absorb the weight of history and faith all at once or process it meaningfully. It takes time. I haven't even been studying for a full Daf Yomi cycle yet.

There are Jews in my brickspace life who refer to me as Jewish, and I don't correct them because we both understand what that means -- that they see me as a member of the Tribe who is running to catch up, and are willing to help me on that journey. I'm grateful for that. I try to live as Jewish a life as I can (as I see Judaism for me) in preparation for conversion. But I would never declare myself Jewish without an official conversion supervised by a Rabbi.

There are also people who have told me I will never be a "real" Jew, or who have tried to pressure me by making my conversion conditional upon certain behaviors, and I don't correct them either because maybe I won't, I simply don't know yet. Occasionally I'll think, hey, if I have to do X or Y to be Jewish, I might not be able to handle that. But that's why the road is long and I'm comfortable walking very slowly along it. Judaism's been around for thousands of years; it'll be there when I get there. I think right now it is as important as it's ever been to speak openly about my desire to convert and my respect for the conversion process.

But no, as validating as your ask felt to me, I'm not Jewish yet. :) Perhaps if I'm lucky, someday.

[peachyparkerr]

spring into summer | art donaldson x female! reader

or loving art even if it hurts <3

based off the song by lizzy mcalpine!

tags: yearning, fluff, angst, no use of y/n, stanford!art to atlanta!art, love "triangle", kissing and stuff, maybe not 100% true to the lyrics might even be out of order, hopefully this is not too long and not too many mistakes lol i dont want to proofread, i made my own challengers timeline because i can, challengers will always be on the mind <3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n i hope you enjoy <3 plz be kind to me

Spring into summer, and the winter's gone I try to hold on to it, but the current's too strong Somebody finds me in the state I am Love you like I mean it when I know I can't

it’s a rainy day in late february at stanford. it’s cold, the fog’s coming in thick over the trees, and it’s hard not slip on the ground. all outdoor sports practices have been canceled or moved inside, and it’s probably the worst day to not have an umbrella or a rain jacket. art’s team practice had been canceled but he still wanted to work on his serve so he decided to practice at the indoor courts, he needed to blow off steam after being around patrick and tashi so much these days. their relationship is really weighing art down these days, so getting in the practice instead of taking a break seemed like an obvious time killer, he just hadn’t realized it was pouring this much. there was no way he was going to make it all the way to his dorm without being majorly drenched, so he decides to tackle the rain for the shorter walk between the indoor courts and the library and wait it out there. he’s definitely drenched when he enters the building, and it could be worse so he accepts it. the library’s fairly empty but he can’t quite decide where he wants to sit and if he actually wanted to do any studying at all, and then he sees you.

you, who is sitting cross legged in one of the big window nooks, headphones on with a book and laptop in your lap and in front of you but long forgotten as you watch the rain fall. he's seen you around before, but knows nothing about you, but you've always caught his eye. and seeing you right now watching the rain, in your own little world, is making his heart skip a beat more than it usually does when he sees you. suddenly, however much it sucks for him to always be around his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend that he secretly has been pining for all this time doesn't even matter to him. he doesn't even know your name, not yet at least, but he decides that he needs to. his legs are moving on their own accord as he makes his way to sit opposite of you in the nook.

he doesn't say anything at first, doesn't even ask if it's okay to sit there he just does even tho there are many open spots, and after what feels like forever of just looking at you looking out the window, you finally look his way.

"hi" he manages to speak out, voice just barely over a whisper.

"hi." you say back taking off your headphones. you have a bit of a confused look on your face but otherwise friendly. he'd never even heard your voice before but he thinks it's the most wonderful thing he's ever heard.

"i'm--" he goes to introduce himself nervously, but you interrupt him.

"i know who you are, art." you point out all soft and sweet and now he's embarrassed that he doesn't know who you are.

"you do?" he's flushing and running a hand through his wet hair.

"of course i do. we had a class together last semester and this one. you're also on the tennis team, right?" you laugh and say with ease. he's even more embarrassed now that he hasn't realized that he's had class with you this whole time but doesn't know your name, but the fact you're still giving him the time of day is encouragement enough for him to not run away right now.

he asks for your name and you give it to him with a smile and shake his hand. your hand fits perfectly in his, and he thinks your name is like a melody. the conversation that strikes up between the two of you is casual and easy, and you make him laugh in a way he hasn't in awhile. you tease him for not bringing an umbrella on the rainiest day, and he shakes his wet curls in your face like a dog just so he can hear your laugh again. if he could bottle up the sound and save it forever he would. but you offer to share your umbrella since as it turns out, you don't live that far away from him, and who is he to say no?

you guys huddle under the shared umbrella as you walk through the pouring rain, your hands brushing each other, making him feel all sorts of things. he's been in love with tashi all this time even if she can't be his, but something about your smile and simple kindness has him thinking just maybe he's not doomed at love. maybe he's getting ahead of himself, but as you guys reach his place and he insists on making it up to you for sharing your umbrella, he can't help but think this could be something good. who cares about tashi and patrick anyway?

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Hold it against me, cool to the touch Nobody knows what it's like to be us Somebody finds me in the shallow end Love you like I mean it just because I can

it starts slow. art can't quite decipher where his feelings for tashi end and where his growing ones for you begin, but he knows that he's drawn to you in a way he's never experienced before. he needed a distraction but thats not just what you are, what you're becoming to him, he thinks.

so he seeks you out more. finds a way to sit next to you in class. shares his notes with you, not that you need notes from him but he offers anyways. notices when you're feeling tired in class so he suggests getting coffee or a bite to eat after. sometimes you say yes, but other times you say no. you know he spends a lot of time with tashi duncan, star tennis player of the whole university, and sure she's dating his best friend, but you've heard the rumors. art's cute, but you don't want to get caught up in whatever that is.

but art's not just cute, he's sweet and effortlessly charming. he somehow just knows when you don't bring a drink to class and has one for you. he seeks you out in the library even though you know he's not really a scholar, and he offers to share his umbrella when its raining, which he always remembers to carry around now, even if its not raining hard, and even if he knows you have your own.

he's spending more time with you than he is with patrick and tashi. they don't really mind, even if part of them wonders what's going on with him. them not really minding has art feeling weird, because part of him still wants them to care, he wants tashi to care. but the rest of him is just glad that he's getting you to give him a chance. when it comes to you, the rest of the world seems to fade away for him.

before you even realize it, you've started to say yes to him every time he asks you to do something. you don't wait for him to seek you out in the library, you ask him to join you. you "forget" your umbrella just so you guys can share his. he takes the opportunities presented to him to shyly keep an arm around you or hold your hand, and when you don't tell him not to, he's never shy again.

the two of you are dating, even if it's not explicitly said. it's june now, and it seems like everything's really good and he's barely even thinking about tashi anymore. you're a welcome distraction but you're also everything and more to him. he wants to make you his, officially, and he's scared out of his mind to put a label on it but nothing would make him happier.

he plans this nice picnic on a rare sunny day. after indulging in some of your favorite snacks, he's laying on his back on the blanket, a baseball cap you got him on his head blocking the sun from his eyes, and you're on your stomach but resting your head on your hands on his chest, and you guys mindlessly talking about something. the sun's shining down on you so perfectly, the wind in your hair. he has no idea what you're saying at this point because he just can't stop looking at you. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he longs to be with you even if you weren't with him. he feels so warm inside and out when he's with you.

he moves hair out of your face and he's interrupting whatever you're saying before he even realizes what he's saying.

"do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asks suddenly, still moving hair behind your ear. this wasn't part of the plan he had in mind today but here goes nothing.

"what?" you question with a confused and disbelieving laugh. he realizes what he's asked but he doesn't take it back, just smiles at you.

"i want to be your boyfriend, so i was just wondering if you'd want to be my girlfriend. like officially." he repeats, a little shy, a little nervous, albeit anticipating what you have to say.

"hmm like officially?" you tease, sitting up a bit, but smiling at him nonetheless.

"yea, like officially." he says simply, sitting up too, and gazing at you with that stupid grin he always has when he thinks knows he's getting what he wants.

you answer him by turning the hat on his head that you got him backwards and kissing him, soft and sweet. it's not the first time, but its definitely better than all the other times. he cups your face and kisses you back slow, happily and deeply. you hold a hand over his, your touch making him melt as usual. maybe everything is going to be fine.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Taking a picture of all the people close to us Head below the surface, almost never certain of the truth (mm) I'm always, forever, runnin' back to you (you, ooh) Runnin' back to you (ooh) Runnin' back to you

you had become a plus one to art's place in his little trio. he had made it a point to include you whenever it felt like it was something he thought would be good. patrick was kind to you and was always willing to spill art's secrets to you. tashi talked to you, was friendly enough, but it's not like you were friends outside of this. you didn't have anything in common outside of your boyfriends. you didn't need her approval, but sometimes it felt like art did. you didn't want to question it, at least not out loud. it was just weird when you would go to his matches and after talking to you he'd ask her what she thought. maybe it's 'cause you're not a tennis player. that had to be the only reason. right?

but he was glad to have you come anyways. when you'd join for hangouts he he always said he played better when you were there. with you, he could hold his head high on and off the court. he wasn't always sure of himself in life or when playing tennis, but if he was almost certain of one thing it was that his heart beat for you. he kissed you like you were the oxygen filling his lungs before every match, always running to wrap you up in his arms as soon as it was over, win or lose. he always assured you you were his good luck charm, his best girl, the most important thing to him besides tennis. and you believed him. even when sometimes it felt weird to take pictures of just him and patrick and tashi when celebrating a win. they were important to him, you understood that, you just wanted to feel important too.

patrick and tashi weren't perfect individuals or a perfect pair but they fit. when he was away you didn't think it was that weird for art and tashi to get lunch just the two of them. art would relay to you that patrick and her sometimes fought, mostly about tennis, but other stupid stuff, and lunch was just a way for him to check in on her for his best friend since he couldn't be around. it was the truth. at least what he believed it was.

but when her injury happened, and patrick and her broke up, patrick's presence in art's life disappeared too. art wouldn't explain so you didn't want to pry more. you and art were still together, but this pit in your stomach started to form the more he was there for her during this tough time. he started being late or missing plans with you because he wanted to help her get back on the court or she didn't want to go to her physical therapy but obviously needed to so he'd take her to make sure she went.

one day, you and him were sat in your room. him on your bed, you leaning against your desk, keeping a distance from him. he wanted to reach out to you and pull you into his arms, make it all go away and show you that you were the one he wanted, but he knew he'd been messing up. you guys were supposed to do stuff today, but that didn't happen because he was with her.

"she had a rough day. i just wanted to be there for her." he said, defending himself after missing yet another hangout with you. he did feel guilty. he loved you. more than he could really put into words, but this felt like something he needed to do for her.

"i get that, i was just really looking forward to our plans. and you didn't call so i was just waiting around." you explained. you weren't mad, just disappointed, again.

"i promise we can go tomorrow. just you and me, i'll make it up to you." he pleaded, standing up and grabbing your hands. "i'm sorry. it won't happen again." he rested his forehead against yours, urging you to look at him. he believed in what he was saying. he knew he was pushing you away unintentionally, and he hated it, he just didn't know how to fix it sometimes. he just hoped it would work itself out and he didn't have to lose you. after all, he always came back to you at the end of the day.

"okay, tomorrow then." you sigh out softly, squeezing your eyes shut and squeezing his hands in yours three times as if to say the three words that seem impossible to say these days. he brings your hands to his mouth to adorn each individual knuckle with a kiss, before he presses a lingering one your forehead and hugs you, trying to make it all better.

and the next day, he follows through with his promise. but something has shifted. you both can't quite put your fingers on it, but it's there hanging over your heads.

he doesn't miss any more hangouts, but the amount of hangouts that get planned decrease. it's clear that tashi's not going to play tennis again. and she probably does need someone to lean on, more than she'd like to admit. sometimes she's seeking him out, but more often than not she doesn't have to because he's going to her anyway. you can't even hate her because it's not even her fault. it's not her fault that your boyfriend would do anything for her, the way he's supposed to do for you. the way he used to.

he loves you, and you love him, but it doesn't mean love is enough. not when this is happening. he'd never break up with you first, so you have to rip off the bandage.

it's february again and its raining out when you meet him outside his room. he doesn't exactly know why you asked to come here, or why you won't come in despite how wet you guys are becoming, but he has a feeling that it's not good.

"it's over, art." you say simply to him. his heart sinks in his chest, and he feels like he's going to throw up.

"why?" he asks, even if he knows the answer. he's getting drenched by the rain, the clothes he's wearing and the hat you got him sitting on his head probably getting ruined, but at least maybe the rain will conceal how he's about to cry.

"I just...can't anymore." you sound defeated and sad. he hates everything about this. he knows he's hurt you, but he doesn't know how to fight for you either.

"i'm sorry." that is all he can say, resisting every urge to pull you close and make this right.

"me too." you sigh out before leaving.

everything about this sucks. he knows a lot of it is his own fault. but he just can't do anything about it. so he goes back inside.

by june, him and tashi are already officially dating. he wishes she was you sometimes, often wonders how you're doing. but he doesn't reach out. he wanted to be the one to tell you that him and tashi were dating, he felt guilty about it and for some reason couldn't stand the idea of letting you find out through the grapevine. but he also knows you probably wouldn't want to hear from him anyway. so he doesn't.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You're always gonna be someone that I want (oh) We have too many years between us If I could jump into the past, I'd only change one thing I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave And now I'm here forever, runnin' back to you Always

two springs and summers had passed since the spring that you broke up with art. yet there's parts of him that are still holding onto the year you spent together, to the first spring he laid eyes on you in the library. him and tashi have been together for almost all this time. she never was able to play tennis again like she used to, but she'd become more than his girlfriend, now she was his coach. she shaped him into the player he needed to be to win the high profile titles he now holds. it wasn't that they weren't happy, the whole tennis community knew them to be a rising power couple, but the dynamic was different than it was with you.

tashi was beautiful, determined, rough around the edges and strategic. everybody knew her and wanted to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her light. he'd stood by her in her darkest time and she'd been standing by him at every win. pushing him harder than he'd ever been pushed towards greatness. she knew he needed tennis, especially if he couldn't have you, even if he wouldn't admit it. she wanted the greatness she couldn't have for herself for him and she was grateful to be able to be part of tennis and his life in this way. so sometimes it was easier for her to pretend they could love each other the way they should. the way he loved you and the way she loved tennis and patrick.

which brings him to the atlanta open. spring on this part of the east coast was nice and art was trying to enjoy it even he's still been feeling cold. his grandmother had died a couple months ago, leaving him her engagement ring, telling him to save it for someone special. those two things were weighing on his mind pretty frequently, especially because when you'd heard the news you reached out to him to give your condolences. you didn't have to say anything, but you were always the bigger person. it was one of the few times you and him had spoken over the years since you broke up. every single time fleeting and politer than he knew had earned and god did it make him miss you.

you, him, and tashi weren't at stanford anymore so there was no reason to see each other anymore, but the passing moments of inevitable running into each other on campus were things he looked forward to. but now you're all graduated, he hadn't seen you in person in about two years and ever seeing you again seems like it would never happen. his only choice is to focus on his skill, winning this open and the next, and tashi. he just wasn't sure if tashi was the special person his grandmother was talking about.

he had actually been looking for tashi when he headed down to the hotel lobby. he could've sworn he saw her sitting by a window, across from patrick, but not really wanting to deal with that he turns his attention to the fan that's called his name to ask for his autograph. when he turns back she's gone and he decides to get a drink anyway to wash down the long day he's had. he orders and that's when he now spots you on the other end, suitcase in hand and ordering the same drink he knows you always have.

art doesn't even know how long he's been frozen in place, taking you in, until you notice him too. you smile and before either of you notice you're sitting next to each other at the bar. you're the same, but different, better, even, if that was even possible. he's always thought you were perfect. he knew he loved you for all that you were before, but he's sure now more than ever that he's never stopped.

by pure coincidence, you're passing through on a work trip and are being put up by your company in the very same hotel. the more the two of you talk he doesn't think this is coincidence, he's convinced its fate. that the universe wants the two of you to be together. when some hair falls in front of your face as you laugh, a sound he hadn't realized he's missed so much even if it's been on replay in his mind all this time, he instinctually moves it behind your ear. he's barely realized he's done it until you're looking at him all wide eyed and he pulls his hand back. suddenly you're pretending to be tired, telling him it was great to catch up and to give tashi your best, and trying to leave.

his heart drops to his stomach at the possibility of losing you again and before he can convince himself it's a bad idea, he's begging you to meet him here tomorrow after your conference and after his match.

"i don't know...what about tashi?" you voice your concern and he hates that you're hesitating but he understands.

"i have no right to ask you to do anything for me, but i promise that if you meet me tomorrow i'll figure it out. i just can't let you go like this. not again." he's pleading with you, grabbing your hand. your skin is cool to the touch but he's burning up inside at the chance to be with you again.

you don't know if you can trust him, and you're not sure if you can handle being hurt by him again, but you've always had a soft spot for him, so you agree anyway.

his heart's racing as he returns to his own room. seeing you is something straight out of a movie, and he knows he's making no sense but he'd messed up once and he rather take a risk now then hate himself for the rest of his life. when tashi returns with patrick's cologne on her skin and asking if that was me she caught a glimpse of earlier, her and art both know its over. they'll keep it out of the press and if he'll find another coach if that's what he wants. usually they'd fight each other on this but they know they can't go on like this.

the next day he waits anxiously. watching the clock tick away. it's only ten minutes after the time you agreed to meet and he's scared you're not coming. he's bouncing his leg as a coping mechanism until you're walking in. he's nearly falling out of his seat as he stands up to meet you.

"you came." he stammers out taking you in.

"i wasn't sure if i should." you admit quietly.

he nods and momentarily takes off the baseball cap he's wearing to run a hand through his hair nervously. you know it's the one you gave him in college but you don't point it out.

"i get it. but i'm glad you came."

"so...you wanted to talk?' you ask awkwardly, unsure of how to navigate this. he nods again and suggests walking outside.

it's quiet at first, even as your arms brush each other's as you walk. but he stops suddenly, turning towards you, knowing that if he doesn't say anything now he might never.

"i'm sorry. for everything. " he begins to say, you try to interrupt and tell him it's been a long time but he doesn't let you continue, needing to say this. "i need you to know that i regret everything. that it's over with tashi, that it has been long before today. i had this idea that i needed her and i could still have you and i was wrong. i never needed her and i wasted so much time thinking that when the only person who was ever it for me was you. "

art's words are earnest and the tears in his eyes match the ones in yours.

"i don't hold it against you. i just wish you would've fought for me. for us. all i've ever wanted was for you to see yourself the way i did." you sniffle out. art's always had this sincere side to him, but it's been so long since you've seen it that it's just a lot to process.

"i know and i'm sorry. i'm so goddamn sorry that it took me losing you to understand that i've never wanted anything else than to be yours. " he cries, cupping your face, his thumbs wiping the tears there away.

art realized too late that he should've fought for you. you, who was always so patient and kind and accepting of who he was in and out of tennis. you, who was soft and thoughtful in ways he didn't think he deserved and taught him you can want things and get them without being so hard on yourself. he was the one who was lucky to be in your light, and he couldn't even blame you for leaving. he just wished he hadn't pushed you away, that he wasn't simultaneously an ass and a coward for letting you slip through his fingers. but this is him fighting for you now, and he was praying to a god he wasn't sure he always believed in that this was his chance to make it right.

"if you'll have me, i want to fight for you. i'll spend everyday for the rest of my life fighting for you, proving to you that i want you, that...i love you. i can't lose you again." he's still holding your face in his hands, gazing into your eyes and hoping that you can understand just how much regret he's been holding in, that you'll say something that'll make him stop shaking right now.

you bring a hand to move some hair that is stuck to his face from under the brim of his hat. he leans into the touch as you rest your hand on his own cheek, shivering at how it feels after all this time.

"you're always going to be someone that i want." you say softly.

and that's all it takes for him to surge forward and press his lips to yours. from that point on, he never feels cold again. and by next summer, his grandmother's ring is on your finger.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Summer is falling, it's a distant dream If I turn around, you're runnin' back to me

a/n i kinda hate this but i needed to write it! plz be kind! likes and reblogs appreciated!

[sayusims]

Jinshi and Maomao relationship detail

At first, when watching The Apothecary Diaries, I didn't really want Jinshi and Maomao to be together. I mean, I wanted them to be, but since Jinshi was obviously so much more in love than Maomao, I did not think that it would seriously work out. However, I’ve changed my mind. As I haven’t actually read the light novels yet, some of the information I’m going to use is based on what others have said, and I can’t really confirm 100% if it is true, but since these are discussed somewhat in the community, I feel like they are.

My top reason for thinking they are good together is the fact that they pay extra attention to and look at each other more than others. In Jinshi’s case, he is known for being immensely pretty, but because this is the only thing people look at when it comes to him, it causes him to have an inferiority complex about all of the other skills that he does possess. It also does not help that he is surrounded by anomalies of people who have super strength or are insanely smart, so he feels hopelessly average in comparison. Because of this, when he met Maomao, he thought that she would be the same—someone captivated by his beauty who does not see the real him—but it was the complete opposite. His beauty does not hold worth to her. While she obviously finds him attractive and is probably still attracted to his physical body, his worth to her comes almost solely from his personality. The times in the anime that we see best that she is VERY slowly falling in love are times when she mentions him behaving differently or behaving more like himself instead of the persona he puts on daily. She does find Jinshi annoying a lot, but she likes it when he is more youthful and less eunuch-like.

When it comes to Maomao, I remember that in an episode of the anime, Maomao mentioned how she knows she is hard to read. While Jinshi cannot read her, he still tries. Jinshi never backs down or gets put off when he doesn’t understand her apparent logic; he mostly just trusts her and her judgment. He is incredibly patient with her and honestly does not try to rush things (it is KILLING ME). He is extremely worried about her well-being and making the choice that she wants, not what he wants. It is like when he dismissed her from her job in the first part of season 1. He dismissed her even though he had the power to obviously just not do it but also to just kind of make her work even if she thought it was miserable in the rear palace, because I fear that’s what at least half of the men back then would have done. But even though at this time he had a rabid crush on her and knew he was going to be miserable like he was with his toys when he was younger, he did it since he thought that was what she wanted. Another thing Jinshi notices a lot is her injuries. After, I assume, the third time of someone noticing someone else constantly getting hurt but still either waiting to get help or just not getting it at all, most people would give up. Most people would not jump off a wall and carry them bridal style to the infirmary the sixth time, but Jinshi still did, and he did it with urgency. Every time she gets hurt now, he is always panicking and doing the most he can to help, even if it's most times him just screaming. He never gets tired of her and always wants to be around her at almost every moment.

I want to get the manga volumes and the light novel so badly, but I literally have a 50-bullet-point to-read list that just keeps growing because I’ve been stuck on Crime and Punishment for the last two months. But if anyone has some show ideas (they don't have to be anime) that I can yap about and make my brain work overtime, that would be very helpful.

[1111wishesxx]

“Belive you deserve it and the universe will serve it”

Hi angels. If you’re reading this right now then you’re probably feeling lost or stuck somewhere in your manifesting/shifting process. That’s okay!! That’s why I’m here. To set you straight and help you get your dream reality you deserve. If you have seen my posts I’m sure you’ve read on my blog before that believing in yourself is crucial to shifting- but what do you do when you don’t feel confident? Before I write anything else I want to say that it’s totally okay and normal to not believe in yourself. It’s okay, you’re human. It happens. (Also, don’t forget that you can still manifest anything even without full self confidence.)

Okay now it’s time for a refresh on the facts of loa: your subconscious/inner world creates your reality/outer world. So if your thoughts are majorly negative and based on doubts (about manifestations, your abilities, the fear that you’re doing something wrong, etc.) your subconscious will make it a reality. Basically this means if you tell yourself it’s super hard to shift then it will be. Instead tell yourself it’s easy to get what you want and manifesting/shifting is effortless. Another example of this is if you continually affirm that you are a billionaire, your subconscious will hear it and eventually it has to conform into your physical reality. Remember that your subconscious is always listening. Whatever you tell yourself/think consciously forms your subconscious.

So what do you do when it feels impossible? My advice is to remind yourself who is the creator of your reality. It’s YOU! Remember manifesting is supposed to be fun. Don’t be hard on yourself. If you catch yourself slipping into doubt just remind yourself that you’re on the right track. Try to affirm when you feel doubt. I say “everything is falling into place perfectly.” and keep in mind that your manifestations are always “working” even if you don’t see it yet. If you belive you have it in your inner world. Another thing you can do is script that you have the confidence and the abilities.

The bottom line is don’t be so hard on yourself. Instead be kind to yourself and patiently trust that everything you want will materialize

Another tip is to change your mindset on your desires. You don’t want your desires; your desires want you. Take everything you want off that pedestal and put yourself on there. YOU are the prize and you deserve all of your desires. You can get whatever you want. Belive you deserve it and the universe will serve it.

Glossary:

4d/inner world/dr: these are all terms for your subconscious mind, your thoughts and desires. Your true reality where you have everything you’ve scripted.

3d/outer world: your physical reality

*this isn’t a term but I want to say that shifting and manifesting are the same thing they are inner changeable*

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Eight: Nevermind The Trailers, Here's The Main Event

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, sending nudes through text, love confessions, semi-public fingering pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: the two of you are navigating the waters after your last encounter. Nanami surprises you during a date and it ends with the two of you officially cementing what this relationship means for the two of you. a/n: HERE IT IS! The next chapter! We have love confessions and then some! More to come sooner than later, I promise!

taglist: @cherryblossombankai @kenpachisbrat @benkeibear @harlekin6

@brokennerdalert @marikuchanxo @gennaray

@sugurusprettygirl @hazzelle-kento @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist

The following weeks sees you and Kento spending almost every waking moment together. It’s known on campus that you two are the cutest couple ever. Most girls watch you in awe as you have the most romantic man charming you every time he’s around you. Even the girls who caused you problems during the party seem to be jealous.

On Kento’s side of things, not only does he feel more confident with your relationship being more stable, he also feels like things are looking up for him for the first time in so long. The thoughts of returning to the sorcerer world are pushed aside for the daydreams of a future with you. He fantasizes about maybe having a family with you once you’re both done with school.

Things couldn’t get any better, really. And now that you two were both comfortable in your positions at school and with each other, it was only going to get better from there.

Kento spends a lot of time with you in your dorm. He’s happy to shower you in affection. He’s so much more layered and complex than you previously could have imagined. He shows you parts of himself that even he keeps tucked away from himself. He’s honest and kind, always wanting to talk to you about all kinds of things. 

The only thing that sort of lingers between the two of you is his virginity. You know you’d love to go that far with him, but you still want to tread comfortably. You two have just gotten together for real recently and to push the subject could make him uncomfortable. So you decided to just continue the way it’s been going and see where things go.

For the first time, Kento is now debating on whether or not to send you a nude. He’s got picture messaging on his phone and you two have been official for a few weeks now with nothing else going on. He wants to show you that he is, in fact, still interested in pursuing something sexual with you as well as romantic.

He’s pacing around in his room. Over the summer, he regained a bit of muscle mass. He had been going to the gym regularly to occupy his time. So he knows he doesn’t look bad. It’s just…how do you even take a good picture to send as a nude?

He groans as he tries different angles, but he thinks he looks stupid in every single one of them. After about twenty deleted pictures, he throws himself on his bed and whines. It’s frustrating to try and be sexy. He knows he doesn’t have to try too hard, but he wants to. He wants to look good for you.

Then he decides to take a shower. Once he’s got his clothes off and the bathroom is nice and steamy, Kento realizes just how perfect this set up is. Finally, he grabs his phone and snaps a picture of him with his shirt off and his cock in his hand. Looking at it, he finds himself actually impressed.

Your phone vibrates as you sit in your dorm studying. You smile when you realize it’s a text from your boyfriend. When you open it, your eyes widen. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen Kento so confident as he looks in this picture. 

The thought of him taking this photo for you has you really riled up. You settle on your bed, your studies forgotten for the moment. You push your pants down and tease yourself through your panties. With your free hand, you snap a picture of your panties pushed to the side and your slick dribbling down your thighs.

Miss you.

He sees the message before going into the shower, and he gets even more confident. He strokes his cock a few times, squeezing the head gently to make some precum pearl at the tip. Then he sends you a picture of that.

See you soon, beautiful.

The next time you two see each other, you’re both blushing. It’s a shared secret. Something that only the two of you understand. And it makes you feel even closer together. Soon, he’s talking about taking you out on a date over the weekend.

He meets you in the parking lot outside the dorms. You look so adorable, dressed in a plaid skirt and a band t-shirt. His eyes widen and he smiles when he notices it’s the shirt he forgot in your dorm one time. You grab his hand and the two of you start walking towards the movie theatre.

“I’m really excited for this,” you say softly.

“Me too. It’s been a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Nanami pays for the tickets, the snacks and he carries everything to your seats. It’s in the very back of the theatre. It’s nice to have these dates. It reminds you of why you really fell for the guy in the first place. He shows you his charming side, when everyone sees just this brooding, moody emo kid.

The trailers begin and the sound is booming as the screen shows you previews for a romcom first. You both laugh at how cheesy it is, but it still seems funny enough for the two of you to wonder if you’d like to come see it. The next trailer is a gory slasher flick, which piques both of your interests. Following that are some ads for some bank, the snacks at the concession stand and then there’s one last trailer for a historical piece before your movie starts.

At first, the movie was very captivating. You and Kento can’t look away, even as you munch on some hot, buttery popcorn and sweet chocolate. Then halfway through, the movie shows its true colors and you realize that it’s going to be very disappointing. You whine and rest your head on his shoulder, and Kento chuckles at just how cute you’re being right now.

One thing leads to another, and you kiss him. He kisses you back, letting you take the lead on this for the time being. He’s not wanting to press things, considering you’re in a movie theatre and getting caught would really suck if you wanted to return for another date.

But the thought of you teasing yourself in those panties when you sent that nude has his blood boiling. It’s been a few weeks since the two of you had any kind of intimacy. He’s growing hard with every little kiss you give him. It’s almost like you’re trying to tease him on purpose.

He looks at you slyly as he pushes your skirt up just a bit. Then you bite your lip to hold in your moan as he begins to rub your clit through your panties. You were wearing silky ones this time, just to spice things up for your date.

The gasp you let out when he pushes them aside and parts your folds has him chuckling. You glare at him, but you’re spreading your thighs even more. He’s so much more confident now than he’s ever been. You remember the first time you two kissed, and how he was such a needy guy back then. Now Kento was calling the shots and you were loving it.

“Try to be quiet, baby.” He whispers in your ear before kissing your neck.

Two of his fingers slip into you, making you let out such a cute little moan. Thankfully the theatre is nearly empty and you’re sitting far away from everyone else. Kento begins to thrust his fingers into you, curling them against your sweet spot. His cock is throbbing but that’s not what’s important here. What’s important is that you see stars.

His thumb rubs your clit in time with his slow and meticulous movements. Every second is agonizingly pleasurable. Your eyes roll back in your head and you begin to hump his hand. It feels like so long since you were able to get off on his long fingers. Kento smirks when he sees just how needy you are right now. You’re just a mess, dripping all over his fingers.

“Cum for me,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sensual kiss.

He keeps your moans muffled as your walls begin to pulse around his digits. Kento keeps kissing you, drawing out every little bit of pleasure from you. Then slowly, he pulls out of you and brings his fingers to his lips to lick them clean. You pant as you try to catch your breath. You’ve got a few minutes to clean yourself up and straighten up before the credits begin rolling.

He grabs your hand and guides you out of the theatre. The night air feels so good on your sweaty skin. You feel so giddy. Your heart is racing and your tummy is still full of butterflies. You kiss him over and over, and he smiles sweetly.

“Be mine,” you say. “Be my boyfriend.”

He blushes. “I…I would love to.”

You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him so deeply. Kento wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. You’re both tucked away on the side of the entrance, away from the rest of the world. The rest of the world could disappear and none of that would even matter to you and him.

“I love you,” he finally says once more. 

You smile. “I love you too. I have for a long while now.”

It feels so good to finally say those words out loud with the person you love. It’s so natural, but it feels like this explosion of emotions has gone off inside of you. You feel like you’re shaking, and Kento feels similarly. He can’t quite wipe the stupid grin off his face.

“I want you,” he whispers in your ear. “Want you to be the one who takes my virginity.”

This makes your heart skip a beat. The words sound so sensual, even though he hasn’t really said anything dirty. You look up into his eyes and you notice just how dark they are. He looks very serious too, like he didn’t just ask you to be the first person to fuck him.

“...I want you too. Whatever you want, you can have that with me.”

He kisses you again, this time it’s a lingering kiss. His thumbs caress your cheekbones. He holds you close to him, like you are the only thing in this world that has any kind of meaning to him.

“I will always love you.”

The words feel warm inside of you. They make a warmth blossom so deep inside and it’s visible on your face. Kento smiles now too, loving the way you look at him like he is the only man who could ever make you smile.

“I will always love you too.”

With your fingers intertwined, Kento walks you home under the twinkling stars.

[deepspacenova]

Zayne teaching you & Caleb how to touch each other HCs

Zayne x Caleb (x Reader)

Inspired by the replies in this post about Zayne and Caleb being each others' firsts and how Zayne would revel in being the bridge between you and Caleb during sex.

I wrote some HCs for Zayne x Sylus a while back (incidentally, also influenced by @leighsartworks216 - aka the equally lovely and evil genius on my shoulder) so... let's call this a spin-off?

Caleb and Zayne become each other's firsts and it starts off very awkward, they're doing it for the sole reason of not botching up their chance with you but;

Unexpected side effect after a few times? They ended up mildly obsessed with each other (physically). "Practice" became more of an excuse than a reason yknow (Like, did they really need to 'practice' in an empty classroom at school for your sake??);

Needless to say, Caleb and Zayne knew exactly what made the other tick in bed by the time they parted ways;

You and Zayne have been together for a while, so of course you know what he likes, every sensitive spot, every sound he makes when you touch him in the right places;

Now that the three of you are together and you know about Zayne and Caleb's history, something hits you at an inconvenient moment: Zayne is behind you, panting into your throat, while Caleb’s chest brushes against yours, his eyes dark, breaths uneven;

Your fingers hover uncertainly over Caleb’s jaw when he leans in. You know how to touch a man, obviously, but with Caleb, it’s new, and it’s been so long, and you don’t know what to do yet, but… Zayne does, you realize;

Ever-attentive Zayne feels your hesitation, realizes what's going on, and immediately starts to put you at ease: tracing the tip of his nose down your neck, he shoots his gaze to Caleb and commands, “Lie back.”

Zayne starts with kissing, his voice soft in your ear. "He likes it when you bite. Not too hard- just enough to make him chase after it." When you test it, press your teeth and tongue against Caleb’s bottom lip and slowly suck it and tug, Caleb growls, gripping your hips;

As your proud smile brushes against Caleb's, Zayne's fingers ghost over your jaw. "Again. A little rougher." To which Caleb sighs, nearly whimpers into your mouth, hands gripping the back of your neck as he scrapes his top teeth against the inside of your lower lip;

The touching starts off slow as Zayne guides your fingers over Caleb’s abdominals. "Lower. Press just a little- yes, there." Caleb exhales sharply at the touch where his hip meets his inner thigh, eyelids lowering, muscles tightening.

Sometimes, if Caleb's done something to goad him or push his buttons, Zayne uses his evol, applying a flash of cold to Caleb's lips, neck, shoulder, hip, that you love to melt and soothe by dragging your tongue over them. Caleb's groans make the torture even more worth it;

More often though, Zayne slides his laced fingers with yours down Caleb's torso, directing your movements as every gentle command heats another inch of your skin, "Try- no, lighter. Mm. Now drag your nails until you get to his-" Caleb groans, hips lifting slightly;

"I think pip-squeak’s got it, Z,” but he can only gasp when Zayne leans down and kisses Caleb himself in response, slow and wet and deep;

You watch the movement of their lips, breath catching as one of Caleb’s hands tightens around your waist and his other fists Zayne’s hair. Zayne just hums, satisfied that he was right as he pulls away, kisses you, the flavor of Caleb still on his lips, and says, “Your turn.”

In fact, Zayne revels in knowing he’s the one in charge in this situation. The who bridges the gap between you both. The one who’s making it work. Caleb may be the one with the evol to literally control things, but here? Zayne was the one who pulled the three of you together;

He’s not afraid to boast about it in his subtle way either, like when Caleb's kissing you, Zayne watches intently for a few moments before pulling Caleb away by the nape of his neck, murmuring, "Not like that. Let me show you,” kissing you in a way that makes Caleb growl under his breath;

At the end of the day, though, Zayne takes the most pleasure in being the one to show Caleb how to touch you;

It's his win against Caleb, his trophy in their competition of "may the best man win you" because it's Zayne who's whispering in Caleb's ear, or guiding Caleb's hands all over the body of his obsession: you;

Neither of them says they’re competing of course, but it’s so obvious to you that they are when your ringing ears catch a smug “Pip-squeak came harder when I was down there” while Zayne licks his lips. To which Zayne grabs him by the root, eliciting a full-body shudder from Caleb when he murmurs, “Are you sure about that?”

Sometimes, Caleb retaliates by pressing one palm between your legs and the other into Zayne's throat. "Tell me something, Doctor. If I move my hand here, what sound will pip-squeak make?" Zayne's smile is small, and his voice is breathless when he shoots back, "You wish you knew like I did.";

That’s when Caleb is pushed to his limit. He's used to giving orders, not heeding them. And he's still full of raw power — I mean, he’s a high school jock turned military adult with the ability to control gravity — so when he finally has enough of Zayne’s teasing? Caleb pins him down with his evol, leaving Zayne gasping for breath;

What’s your favorite part of this? That comes a while later, when your hesitation is gone. When you’re reassured that Zayne and Caleb are in the palm of your hand. When you and Caleb find your rhythm and finally, finally team up against Zayne;

You and Caleb have every intention of teasing Zayne until he’s a pleading mess. Caleb's pinning him down with his evol as you hover over Zayne’s tip, just barely brushing over him before you straighten your thighs just out of reach. “Be good,” you taunt softly, bending forward to let your lips brush his;

You forget that Caleb’s behind you though, and that the sight of you in front of him and showering Zayne with so much attention could only lead to-

A sharp gasp is torn from your throat as Caleb uses his evol on you, forcing your body down down down with a, "You two were taking too long. Thought I’d help out.” Meanwhile, all you and Zayne can do is groan and pant, the breathless as he's forcefully stuffed into you;

The aftermath is the only time Zayne and Caleb set aside their competitive streak and become perfectly in sync;

Zayne focuses on the physical, on cleaning you up with a warm cloth, wiping you down with slow, careful strokes. Every pass of fabric is followed by a kiss on your thighs, stomach, shoulder, wherever marks were left. It's methodical and grounding, not just for you but for him.;

Caleb, on the other hand, focuses on the emotional, shushing your lingering cries. Stamping words of praise into your temple, your cheek, your eyelids. Each time you tremble or shudder he tucks your face into his neck, feeling his own lungs calm in tandem with yours when your lips brush his necklace;

When Zayne joins you both, he hooks your leg over his hips and rests his head in the crook of Caleb's elbow, nose pressed against your head, which rises and falls on Caleb's shoulder;

But their competition will come back again tomorrow, the teasing, the push and pull, the battle for control. And the need to see who could wreck you the best.

[botanical-garden-system]

Did yall know that there are several researchers actively trying to prove DID is not a real thing? Did yall know that there are several articles in the multitude of databases I have accessed through my school that ACTIVELY try to find and prove how DID isn’t fucking real???

When people tell me, “research disagrees with ___,” I hope yall realize that many researchers dont even think we exist. They dont think you can experience multiple identities. And yes, these research articles are within the past 5 years.

There are clinical psychologists with entire practices of therapeutic professionals that treat people with a focus in trauma and dissociative disorders as “untrained” and “stupid.” Not even researchers agrees on our existence, and this is NOT something you typically see within the peer reviewed articles of any popularly discussed disorder.

Many are legitimately PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES. Just keep this in fucking mind when you start saying shit like, “But research disproves your identity.” Many researchers actively try to disprove we exist in GENERAL.

Also I have yet to find a research document stating anything yall have claimed against plurality and I have easily 50-60 hours worth of digging and researching multiple databases (APA psycINFO, APA psycTESTS, Proquest psychology collection, Sage Journals, Google Scholar through a college institution, NIH, etc.). In fact, I actually have/had a few articles discussing how we need to start re-addressing DID and approaching it as psychologists.

I can probably list off several medical journals that talk about DID, provide you with at least 30-50 different peer reviewed scholarly journals, case studies, and collections, and I can confidently say that we are STILL trying to connect dissociation and trauma research.

At most, we can say that there is a HIGH CONNECTION BETWEEN cPTSD (yes, specifically cPTSD) and DID, but people are still figuring out whether you can see examples of DID in the brain through neuroimaging (which we have figured this out some, it’s super cool) and what other disorders DID is comorbid with.

We can’t be claiming SHIT about what is or isn’t right now. I am not at all a discourse account, and I most likely will not interact with syscourse outside of this, but I AM a researcher who has spent countless hours trying to better understand DID so that I can help myself and others around me. If yall were genuinely digging, yall would realize how fucking abysmal the understanding of psychology really is, let alone disorders that are stigmatized.

I WILL engage in discussing research that I have found with peer revision because I believe this education should be free and readily available to everyone. I am NOT engaging in debates on whether you believe plurality exists outside of DID. That has not been researched or discussed enough to make any sort of claim. The real point behind research is so we can better understand our world, our brains, and our society. The best we can do right now is LISTEN to the experiences people have and MAKE research to better understand their experiences.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I was originally going to move to the Pacific Northwest with Cyrus at the beginning of 2017. Then Trump got elected, and I couldn’t do that anymore. I didn’t know what I was going to do instead, but I felt a duty. It feels more comfortable in a way to say I felt a duty to my community, and I did, and I do, but it might be more honest to say rather I felt and feel a duty to my country. As a kid, I heard the phrase, “My country, right or wrong. If right, to be kept right, and if wrong, to be made right.” To me—naively, idealistically, yes—that was what America meant. A flawed nation full of people who were trying. And Washington DC was the place where that happened. So the work I needed to do would be in DC.

It wasn’t. I didn’t end up going into politics—probably a good call since I think that would have killed me. Instead, I became a nurse. I help people on a more personal level. I try to change one hospital’s culture. It’s a smaller focus, more sustainable, and one that gives me satisfaction, but it’s not what I thought I’d be doing in 2016 when I woke up to discover that I’d been even more naive about our country than I thought. And it’s a role I’ve been feeling the limits of lately as history unfolds.

But weirdly enough, thinking as much as I have about the country lately, I’ve come to the realization that I am still as patriotic now as I was as a kid attending anti-war protests and sitting during the pledge of allegiance. The worst of us don’t get to claim to be the only people who get to love our country. They don’t get to make this country whatever they want. I am an American, and as fraught as that identity is, it is mine as much as it is anyone else’s.

For better or worse, for good and for evil, the core of the American identity is that we can make America whatever we want. You can (and should!) analyze, critique, deconstruct, and often condemn that idea and the ones underpinning it (like, for example, the false and harmful idea that the continent was a vast empty space just waiting for us to fill it with “real” civilization). But the idea endures. And the idea has power. And the idea doesn’t have to be ceded over to those who can’t conceive of a world not shaped by their cruelty, hatred, bigotry, and a bottomless lust for power.

I’m not just an American. I’m also a Virginian. Sandwiched between the capital of the Union and the capital of the Confederacy, teeming with civil war battlefields, it’s a state that reminds you constantly that you have to fight for the country you want. To the north, we’re the south, and to the south, we’re the north, and every region of the state is its own distinct subculture. It’s not easy to find the overlap between Nova and coal country. I love my state, and I am deeply ashamed of so much of its history and culture. Leaving Virginia didn’t make reconciling those two facts any easier or make me hold them any less true.

After writing the first part of this post, after thinking all the thoughts that led me to writing it, I went on the most impromptu cross-country trip of my life back to the east coast and northern Virginia. Crazy what makes you homesick. I wanted so badly to move away from Virginia after living there my whole life. And I love the west coast. I bought a house out here, it’s safe to say I’m pretty locked in to the PNW. But lately I’ve been feeling wistful for other versions of my life. Not regretful, but still a little sad that life is a series of mutually exclusive choices.

There’s worse fates than loving two places. And that love has given me comfort when reality has absolutely not. As Trump and his cronies remake American in their image, the betrayal and grief I feel has been strangely invigorating. I wouldn’t mourn as much as I am if I didn’t love what they were taking away. It’s not a simple love or an easy one, but it’s still love. As we go into this particularly dangerous continuation of the debate about what America is, it will be very important for us to remember what we love.

There's so many horrible things happening in America right now that it has been interesting to see what individual horrors hurt me personally the most. I grew up going to the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Musicals, plays, concerts, that weird bust of JFK, playing around on terrace during intermissions, putting on a velvet dress that you're going to ruin dropping a milk dud in your lap and not noticing until it's fully melted, wearing the pinchy shiny shoes that are the training bras of women's formal footwear, operas I didn't like but did love, jazz I didn't understand but still fascinated me, red carpet, big stairs, the absolute nightmare amount of experiences I had as a new driver as I repeatedly got trapped in the Kennedy Center's fucking private DC island or whatever the hell is going on traffic-wise, free performances on small side stages, getting to see an enormous production on the Center's most enormous stage, all of which was accessed by walking through that a long, tall hallway lined with flags of the world that made you feel like a dignitary attending the most important even in the world.

And now Trump's taken it over. He fired its board. He appointed one of his loyalists to run it. I want to throw up.

Sometimes I miss DC so much. I love the Pacific Northwest and expect I'll live here for the rest of my life, but this isn't my hometown. I grew up the edge of the District. I've lost cumulative years of my life stuck in traffic on the inner loop and outer loop. Because of the Smithsonian, it used to be so baffling to me that anyone ever had to pay to get into a museum. I've used the Washington DC zoo as a shortcut to a different part of the city because it's free to enter. You couldn't count the amount of knockoff Spider-man popsicles that I've eaten sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. My reading tastes were molded by Kramer Books in Dupont Circle. I spent afternoons walking around the National Mall, normally just a big empty field until there's an event--book fair, country music program, international cuisine, whatever--at which point for a day or a weekend or a week it becomes a sea of tents and stages. I went to protests outside the Capital and the White House about the war in Iraq. I froze my toes off watching Obama's 2008 presidential inauguration.

It seemed like everyone's family touched the federal government in some way. Everyone's family had moved here because they were military or state department or a political consultant or worked with an NGO or some other reason that meant you had to be here, in the nation's capital. Plenty of people had connections to the federal government that we more hush-hush. Like kids in class straight up going, "I have no idea what my parents do for a living. They're not allowed to tell me." High schoolers regularly, accidentally drove into the CIA parking lot and got escorted out because the premises were that accessible. My family moved here because my dad is a reporter who ended up covering international trade. (Imagine how much his job sucks right now.) He switched beats one summer to cover the White House instead. He got to fly on Air Force One. He got official Air Force One M&Ms. I was SO disappointment my dad didn't work there for Bush to call on him by nickname.

Every day my family got The Washington Post. I read the comics and the kid's page, then the rest of the Style section, then Metro, then news. I learned to read from it. We wrapped our delicate Christmas ornaments with its pages. We used yesterday's papers to clean our windows because they didn't leave streaks. I took journalism in high school. You can't IMAGINE how much and how frequently we talked about Watergate. When Post changed its motto to "Democracy Dies in Darkness" after Trump's election in 2016 that meant something to me. I knew Bezos owned the paper now, but that was still my paper, and the motto spoke to something I fervently believed: if people just knew what was happening, they wouldn't allow it to happen. If you expose a problem, people will naturally agree that it is a problem and that we should do something to fix it. Flash forward to Trump's third fucking campaign, and the newspaper wouldn't endorse a presidential candidate. Chickenshit cowardice. Then they change the motto. "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." Eat shit. You're nothing now.

Politics in America is just telling everyone how much you hate Washington, DC so that they'll elect you so you can move to DC. Well, guys, the city fucking hates you too. Republicans will never give the District actually meaningful political representation because no one in that city would vote for them. It's not just the policies; it's the contempt. No one in the new administration loves the city they schemed and lied and stooped to take over. It's just iconography to them, and all they care about is taking that iconography for themselves. Trump doesn't give a shit about the summer program for the Kennedy Center. He has never seen a show at the Kennedy Center. When he was president, he never attended the annual awards. He's trying to destroy one of the most significant places of my life and I'm genuinely unsure if he has ever stepped for inside of it.

[playstation-dreamcast]

Loved your hc's on the residents evil boys! Since your requests are open could you perhaps make headcanons on Wesker's flirting game? I bet he's good at it y'know to get people on his side but when he ACTUALLY likes someone? Man got no game. He's probably going full autism mode and tells about his special interest and shit <- I see it but that's my opinion though LOL

Oooo, we have different takes here actually. I love yours, and I can see it! But, here's my take!

Wesker Headcanons: Flirting Edition!

Gif is by @digitalangel777 btw!!!

Okay so first of all, I don’t really think Wesker flirts to be honest. At least, not intentionally. This is mostly because I don’t see Wesker as the type of guy to develop, nor clock his attraction to someone immediately. It takes time!

Wesker flirting is him remembering your coffee order and leaving it on your desk. It’s him not completely tearing you to shreds when you make an obvious mistake. It’s him praising your work when you actually do a good job, beyond just “Well done.” Wesker flirting is him being able to speak with you casually about something, rather than being so damn professional and wound up all the time, ya feel me?

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until it's too late. Until he’s in his car and Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears comes on and he catches himself daydreaming about you. You could the quick, sharp “Fuck!” He let out from the next car over. 

I think after that he’s kinda in cringefail mode ngl. Like, he’s trying to avoid you, but he’s integrated himself so much into your life and you so much into his that it is neigh on impossible, and he can’t stop giving you special treatment now, cause that makes you sad and he genuinely can’t stand when you get that glossy, upset look in your eyes

He’s not flustered. I think he’s a little too well composed for that. But he did, in fact, catch himself rambling to you for like, 45 minutes about the different strains of Flu after you told him you had just gotten your flu shot. And while you were a good sport and humored him the entire time, that was genuinely a mortifying experience for him. Had him staring at himself in the bathroom mirror at the RPD like:

“Get It Together Albert.”

He starts to actively look into you. Not necessarily in a “I have your official government docs” kinda way, but more in a “I’ve spoken to your friends and now know your favorite type of candy. Here, I got some for you.” Kind of way. More of a “You said you liked this movie. I watched it so we can talk about it. I liked Neo.” type of way, ya know? He’s going beyond the bare minimum office cordiality to actually try to connect

This is incredibly hard for him- you have to understand. The only other person he’s connected with on a human level bonded with him over unethical experiments and medical malpractice- give him time

He flirts by building a snowman with you. (This is my shameless self promo)

Oh, he also flirts by sharing his snacks. I think Wesker is genuinely really possessive of food for lack of a better word. I headcanon that he probably faced some food insecurity growing up (the boys home withholding food as punishment type deal), so he’s not big on sharing. Typically. For you though? Of course you can have the other half of his Twix. Here, don’t tell the others he hides suckers in his desk, but take one. Do you want to try this new weird chip flavor he found with him?

This is him taking care of you btw. Look at him, he’s such a good provider. He’d be so good at taking care of any potential offspring you have. Surely you want him, he is displaying so many Desirable Traits ™

This is how humans think, right? Like this is how it works? Of course it is, he’s an expert in human psychology. 

I think he eventually gets tired of beating around the bush honestly. And when that happens, a scene not unlike this one plays out

Aaaanyway- in conclusion, I think that Wesker is really good at flirting when the job calls for it and he needs to get people on his side. In that sense, he’s very good at it. But, outside of that context, he sucks at flirting. Mostly because it feels a lot like manipulation. So he doesn’t actually “flirt” to show his attraction. But there will be signs. (It’s the cup of coffee exactly the way you  like it on your desk btw. That’s the sign)

[takenbypeter]

May I request Matt Murdock x reader. Reader is insecure about their voice since they don't think it's attractive or sounds feminine.

A Voice Like No Other

Matt Murdock x reader

Words: 803

Author’s note: Omg yes yes yes, thank you! I’ve literally been twiddling my thumbs waiting for a request while also trying to think of my own fics ofc. But yay so happy you requested 😊 Okay also this ask is so real because I’ve been told sort of bad things about my voice and I hate hearing how my voice sounds, soooo this is reallllll! Anyways thanks for requesting 😂😂😂

“Your phone’s ringing!” You shouted towards the open doorway that led to Matt’s bedroom. 

You had spent the night at his, (finding the walk to your own place much too far), and you were currently helping with the remaining dishes from breakfast while he was just finishing up his shower. 

“Can you see who it is?” His voice rang back, not recognizing any of the specific ringtones he had saved for any of his usual contacts. 

You glanced back at your hands that were wet, “yeah, just one sec.” 

You tried your best to quickly rinse your hands and dry them but as you dried them the sound came to a stop. 

“Too late.”

“Did they leave a voicemail?”

“Let me check.”

Easily opening Matt’s cell you press the telephone icon before clicking his voicemail list. You were about to reply that the unknown caller did in fact leave a voicemail when something stopped you. 

On the screen you noticed a list of old voicemails with your name attached to every one. 

The fact that there was a list made you slightly nervous but still you hit the most recent one. 

“Hey Matt, it’s me,” immediately your shoulders hunched together as you physically cringed at your own voice before clicking the next one. 

“Hey Matt—“ 

Before that one can continue you click a third one. “Hey—“ you don’t even get past the first word on that one. 

You clicked on a final one that was actually labeled with your name and the words sleepy beside it. 

“Matty Matt Matt,” Jesus, your nose scrunched at the utter disgust you felt before pressing back. 

Matt, finally dressed but hair still not completely dry, comes out from his room. 

You waste no time in asking him the important question.

“Blegh, why do you have like a hundred voicemails from me?”

“A hundred? I don’t have a hundred voicemails, I just have a few.”

Your eyes shift back to the phone in your hand as you start selecting each voicemail. 

“I’m going to delete them real quick.” Matt was quick in grabbing the phone, practically giving you no time to react. “Now why would you even do that?”

“Are you kidding me? I sound terrible. I just listened to the first few and I sound like a scratchy conductor who doesn’t know how to open their mouth right. It’s gross, let me delete them.”

You hold your hand out waiting for the phone, which of course never makes it there. 

“What are you talking about? Your voice isn’t scratchy, and I can understand you perfectly fine.”

“I sound disgusting Matt. Please?”

Right now you probably knew you sounded possibly like the biggest brat in the world but you were honestly getting desperate. Imagining him hearing your annoying voice never hit you before but now you realize it’s probably mostly how he recognizes you. 

“Matt I’m serious, I sound infuriating and loud.” You repeated the words you’ve heard directed at you and your voice in the past. Your voice must’ve sounded desperate as his tone finally matched the seriousness of yours. 

“Woah hey,” his voice was calm now, much more enticing than yours, at least that’s what you thought. “Your voice is not infuriating, alright. It’s not annoying or loud. Do you want to know what I picture when I hear your voice?”

It didn’t matter if you said yes or no, you knew he was going to tell you anyway. 

“When you talk I picture a walk along the beach...the waves sweeping in and out against the land but never is it annoying. And when you’re excited it’s like the sounds of an arcade at the boardwalk nearby. You want to go near that sound. It sounds exciting and fun. Your voice is just like that, so stop discarding it as something unloved. Because I love it.”

You wanted to fight against his praise, tell him what people have said in the past that’s now been ingrained in your head for years but how could you when his words were that sweet. 

“You can keep the voicemails. Just don’t play them around me please.”

“We’ll unpack that later.”

You frowned and he set the phone down, reaching for your arm and pulling you into his warm, loving embrace. 

“Every single part of you, from your voice, to your brains, to your appearance, is remarkable.”

“If you say so,” you reply, a slightly forced smile spreading on your lips. 

“Not just if I say so. There is no question about it.”

You let out a little sigh, letting some of your stress get carried out with it as your head rested against his chest. It was warm, comforting

Who knows, maybe with time and reminders you could learn to dislike your voice just a little bit less.