#had to make a themed calendar for a class ^_^

[marblerose-rue]

barbarian

[thepandalion]

Feeling super validated rn

[starkwlkr]

pretty in pink | logan howlett

an: this comes straight from my delusional mind

dad!logan (you can choose if you want this to be an old man logan fic!!)

All week your daughter, Ada, had been reminding everyone about her sixth birthday that was coming up. She made sure you and Logan marked it on every calendar in the house. During dinner, all she talked about was her pink princess themed party.

“And the cake has to be pink!” She said for the hundredth time. She sat in her chair at the table completely forgetting she was supposed to be eating her spaghetti.

“We know, Ada. You told us everyday before and after school.” Logan said.

“I told the girls in my class to come too. They said they wouldn’t come because we’re freaks.” Her excitement about the party died down.

Laura, now a teenager, gave her sister an encouraging smile. “They’re the freaks. You’re the coolest girl in school. That means we get to have all the cake.” That earned a laugh from Ada. Logan chuckled, it warmed his heart to see his daughter’s bond.

“Your party is going to be the best, my love,” You stood up and grabbed your and Logan’s plate that were now empty. “Finish up and then get ready for bed, both of you.” You walked to the kitchen sink and began to wash the dishes.

Laura immediately challenged Ada to see who could finish their spaghetti first. After a scolding from their parents, Laura let Ada win. Soon, the sisters raced upstairs to get ready for bed.

As you and Logan finished cleaning, you couldn’t help but think about your little girl. Your sweet innocent little girl didn’t deserve to be called a freak. Your thoughts were interrupted when a car pulled up to your driveway. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.

“Stay here.” Logan said to you after he wiped his hands on a dish rag. He walked out the door ready to confront whoever it was. The car’s headlights were blinding him, but once he heard the familiar voice call his name, he put away his claws.

Inside you were still wondering who it was. Before you could join Logan outside, Ada had run down the stairs already in her princess pajamas.

“Mommy, who’s outside?” She asked you. Her question was answered when Logan walked in with Rogue by his side. Ada screamed in excitement when she saw her other sister. “You’re here! You’re here!” The little girl ran to Rogue and gave her a welcoming hug.

“I wouldn’t want to miss your princess party.” Rogue picked up the girl.

“Are you going to sleep in my room? Dad got some new books for me!”

“Oh you bet we’re going to stay up all night reading those books! I’ll be up in a few, let me talk to mom and dad for a sec,” Rogue set her down. The adults watched as Ada happily skipped up the stairs to her room. “Alright, what’s wrong?” She looked at you and Logan.

“What? Nothing wrong, why are you asking?” Logan asked surprised by her question.

Rogue knew she wasn’t going to get a straight answer from Logan so she looked at you. You sighed and told your daughter the truth. You were nervous about Ada’s party. A few of her classmates did tell her they were attending, but you were convinced they were only coming to make fun of her and ruin her big day.

“Those little shits ain’t going ruin my girl’s party.” Logan added.

“Honey, those little shits are first graders.” You corrected him.

“Little shits or not, Logan’s right. This is Ada’s party and she’s going to have the best damn princess party in the world.” Rogue declared. Before she left, she gave you and Logan a kiss on the cheek then walked up the stairs to Ada’s room.

Logan noticed that you still had a concerned look on your face. “Hey, Ada is going to be okay.”

“I just don’t want my little girl to get hurt.” You said.

“I won’t let anything or anyone hurt any of my girls.” Logan reminded you.

With that, you and Logan finished cleaning and went up to Laura’s room to say goodnight. As you reached Ada’s room, you saw her and Rogue already asleep. You quietly took the book out of Rogue’s hand and put it back on the bookshelf then adjusted the blanket over your daughters. You gave them both a goodnight kiss and left the room.

In the morning, Ada was the first to wake up. She ran to yours and Logan’s room as fast as she could and jumped on to the bed screaming that it was her birthday. Logan groaned since she had landed on his stomach.

“Wake up! It’s my birthday!” She giggled as Logan sat up and brought her into his arms.

“How old are you today? Eighty? Ninety seven?” He watched as Ada’s smile dropped.

“No, that’s you!”

You were trying so hard to hold in your laugh, but failed. Logan playfully rolled his eyes. It was Ada’s day, he wasn’t going to get mad at her on her special day.

“Okay birthday girl, I believe your sisters promised a special birthday breakfast just for you.” Logan told Ada.

The now six year old gasped as soon as she heard ‘special breakfast’. She immediately jumped off the bed and ran downstairs to the kitchen where Laura and Rogue were making breakfast.

Logan sighed deeply and rolled over to his side, his eyes meeting yours. “Remember . . . Everything is going to be okay today.”

You hummed in response.

Eventually you and Logan joined the girls in the kitchen. Laura and Ada were throwing grapes into each others mouth while Rogue laughed at them failing miserably. Ada had thrown a grape so far from Laura that it hit Logan’s head when he walked in.

“Ada! You hit an elderly man!” Rogue teased.

“Kids.” Logan rolled his eyes yet again.

As a family you all sang happy birthday to Ada as Rogue placed a stack of pancakes topped with whipped cream and Ada’s favorite fruits. The little girl’s smile brought joy to her family.

“Wait, let me get the camera!” You ran to the cabinet that had random items inside. You grabbed the camera and snapped a couple of pictures of your girls and Logan.

It was a beautiful start to a beautiful day.

As the day went on, Rogue and Laura helped decorate the backyard with princess themed decorations. Ada was too busy running around in her pink princess dress to help. Logan was inside blowing up balloons until members of the x-men started showing up.

“Is that the big bad wolverine in a plastic tiara?” Scott Summers chuckled at the sight of Logan wearing a tiara that Ada had given him.

“Watch it, I don’t want you bleeding all over my daughter’s party when I—” Before Logan could finish, Ada joined them with more tiaras in hand. She gave one to every member telling them they couldn’t enter her party if they didn’t wear it.

And that’s how Scott Summers ended up with a plastic pink tiara on his head.

Ada was enjoying her party so far. A couple of classmates did end up attending. You saw as they played on the swing set that Logan had bought for Ada for her last birthday.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Logan said as he stood beside you.

“Hey,” you relaxed more when he was close to you. “Did you see the big box Storm brought for Ada? I bet it’s a big doll house.”

“You’re wrong. It’s definitely a large case of beer for me and you to enjoy when our girls are passed out.”

You chuckled. “After this, no more parties until next year.” You placed a kiss on his lips.

“Whatever you say . . .” He got another kiss in before Ada came running to you with a butterfly knife in hand and the biggest smile on her face.

“Mommy! Daddy! Uncle Wade got me a pretty knife!”

“Uncle Wade?!” “What the fuck!” You and Logan yelled at the same time.

“Hey mommy milf dearest! Peanut! Guess my invite got lost in the mail . . . again. I’m starting to think it’s on purpose. Harsh! Whatever, hey kids! Who wants to learn how to use this baby!” He held up his gun.

“Wade, No!”

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Roommates Wanted! fem!reader x o. aiku x s. ryusei x i. sae things that make sense

summary: two months in and beyond the contracts, there are systems that the group agreed upon that just make sense to them.

tags and themes: roommates au, slight crack, very ooc, mundane day-to-day events, shidou complains, aiku balances everything, sae is a rich boy, reader is the glue... somehow

author's notes: i am so so so excited to write more about this au, and slowly, we'll flesh out the dynamics between the four! this has been the happiest I've been writing something, and i hope you guys love it as much as i do! I'm also planning to release character visuals soon lmao. as always, reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated!

Check out the Masterlist!!

@ysvanielle @kai-zawa @literallyushiwaka @londonsworldddd @itz-phantomz @imcheshire @loverlixie @byzantiumhollow @bontensbabygirl @sugacor3

It's been a month since Sae joined, and two since you, Aiku, and Shidou started to live together as roommates. You never thought it would work, given the huge differences in your careers and personalities. As expected, all of you have formed systems in your apartment that just make sense to the four of you.

The moment Sae moved in, you introduced one of the most important household items: the whiteboard calendar. "Even if we don't talk most of the time," you explained, "this could be our form of communication. Schedules, deadlines, everything. We'd let everyone know what's going on through this." The boys agreed, but Sae was the most pleased with the idea. He'd finally have something to keep track of all the deadlines he's dealing with. You assigned them a marker each, their color of choice.

Aiku - dark green

Shidou - pink (the brightest, he said)

Sae - red

You - blue

Aiku came home one day with the markers, and everyone, like schoolchildren, scribbled on the whiteboard before they decided to fill in the Month, Year, and Days.

Aiku would fill some spaces on the calendar with important lessons for his class, lesson plan deadlines, and major exams at school. Weekends would fill up most of his tasks. Sae, as an editor at a publishing house, would fill in the calendar with the names of authors and manuscript deadlines, scattered throughout. Shidou's was mostly non-existent, but if he did write something, it would be the name of an important client who had scheduled a class with him. He'd also write stuff like "new protein shake flavor release" because he's been looking forward to it. And you...

Oh, the moment a new month rolls in, you'd immediately fill in the first week or two with your ever-changing, inconsistent schedule. Two graveyard shifts in a row, then a sudden afternoon shift, then back to graveyard. You only get one day off per week, and the boys hated how weird and chaotic your schedule was.

The color coding on your markers made a ripple effect on other smaller things: keychains on everyone's keys, so Shidou won't accidentally grab yours. Then Aiku installed hooks on the wall near the front door to get rid of the key bowl and hang the keys in their designated colors. Aiku and Sae's keys were a little bulky because both own cars (Aiku got his from his dad when he passed the bar exam. Sae... Take a wild guess how he got his). You and Shidou only had two to three keys hanging on your keychains.

Then it became color-coded mugs because of how many times Shidou has used Sae's cup, or Aiku's cup... Or your cup... But never his own. Sae would scold him, calm and cold, and Shidou kinda stopped. So, you and Aiku bought everyone mugs in your designated colors, too.

Another thing that really made sense for you guys was the savings jar. You don't have anything in mind to save for, it was just something you could dig into if the group decides for take-out instead of Aiku's cooking (he'd be thankful that you guys made him rest for a moment), or if you and Shidou planned on buying a new game for his PlayStation (he'd beat your ass until you walk out. Of course, he's laughing). Maybe save up for a new air fryer you saw at the mall one time. It was there for everyone. You, Aiku, and Shidou would shove spare change and bills in the jar, but you always wonder if Sae's spare bills were too much because sometimes, you'd see hundreds in there. Rich boy shit.

A grocery list for bi-weekly grocery runs is also important. A new list will be attached to the fridge, just below the whiteboard calendar, and everyone will write down everything they need before the weekend errands. Shidou would write his in a scrawly handwriting, and it's sometimes "instant ramen x5" or "that new snack I saw on TV, will send you a photo.” Sae would add his in neat handwriting, sometimes in cursive. It's always just the necessities. Aiku will write his necessities and a bunch of snacks for everyone. Sometimes he would be in charge of auditing the fridge just to see what food products you guys needed to survive. He'd always have this neat handwriting. Professor-like. And you? You'd write down your necessities and cravings in a hurried handwriting. Sometimes a little messy like Shidou's.

Grocery runs are handled by Aiku. Sometimes you'd accompany him if you had a Saturday or Sunday off. Sometimes Sae would come with him. Aiku would sometimes tell the others how Sae covered this month's grocery run again, not letting everyone pay. But if it's just Aiku, he'd make sure that everyone chips in once the bill is split according to what everyone wrote in the grocery list. "I'm not as rich as Sae, ya know," he'd reason if Shidou grumbles about it. It was not a problem with you, since it was all you agreed upon when stepping into the apartment.

But the most hated item in the house, something Shidou dreads the most, is the budgeting logbook. Rent, bills, and everything in between. You'd pull the boys at the dinner table to have a roommate meeting ("Five minutes tops, Shidou. Please!"), and everything was discussed. Everyone had to contribute to the month's rent and bills. Sae would be in charge of updating the spreadsheet on his laptop ("Just in case we lose the logbook, we have a copy," he explained), and Aiku handles the money and pays it to the sweet, old landlady downstairs.

If anything, you guys shouldn't have really worked out. Not with Shidou's constant complaining and explosive energy every morning. Not with Sae's quiet judgments and long sighs. Not with Aiku’s overly optimistic views and his "failed" attempts to keep the harmony. And especially not you and your chaotic schedules and sudden bursts of annoyance because of a messy house. But it did.

And you're glad it did.

[lascvitae]

I WANNA BE YOURS ✵ SIM JAEYUN.

✧₊˚. you think he’s sweet, but he’s been studying you.

ᝰ.ᐟ coworker!jake headcanons ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. stalking, obsession, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, unhealthy attachment, you kiss him while drunk, digital surveillance, implied gaslighting, codependency, dark themes, he’s kinda delulu

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 3.9k

(🎧) now playing — i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys.

masterlist.

coworker!jake who always says “hey” a little too quietly when you walk into the break room. who bumps into chairs when you’re around. who laughs at your jokes three seconds too late. who gets tongue tied every time you call him “jake” like it’s intimate.

coworker!jake who’s had a crush on you since day one, but never thought he had a chance. you were hot. like, too hot to work here hot. effortlessly charming. smiley. confident. the kind of person people turn their heads for when you walk past. and you were nice. too nice.

coworker!jake who started remembering your coffee order. not because you told him, but because he watched you say it to the barista every morning before work. oat milk, three pumps of sugar, double shot. he tried it once and almost gagged. still drinks it anyway.

coworker!jake who keeps track of your schedule. not intentionally at first — just noticing when your lunch breaks usually are. when you leave early on thursdays. when your calendar blocks off “meetings” that are really just solo trips to the roof to scroll in peace. he knows. he watches.

coworker!jake who swears it’s just a little crush. just admiration. until he sees your lockscreen. it’s someone else. someone holding your waist. your face tucked into their shoulder. he zooms in.

coworker!jake who starts scrolling through your tagged photos on Instagram. clicks through your likes. sees who you follow. sees who you comment on. reads every tweet you post, memorizes the cryptic ones.

coworker!jake who gets mad when someone else makes you laugh. who seethes silently when he hears you flirting on the phone. who goes quiet when you compliment someone else’s outfit. he starts to think maybe you’re doing it on purpose. maybe you know. maybe you like messing with him.

coworker!jake who finds out where you live. he doesn’t mean to. you just… say it once. an offhand comment about how long the drive is. what exit you take. and then he sees you walking one day after work, and he follows. just for a block. just to see. but he doesn’t stop.

coworker!jake who walks past your apartment more than once. late at night. headphones in. just in case you’re home. just in case you look out the window. just in case you see him and say his name again like it means something.

coworker!jake who eventually finds your venmo. then your pinterest. then your finsta. it’s private, but your bio makes him freeze: “pls don’t be weird.” he laughs out loud. too late for that.

coworker!jake who finally gets bold enough to show up at your building one night. just stands there, hoodie up, heart pounding. waiting. wondering if you’ll come out. if you’ll recognize him. if you’ll smile and say jake again and mean it.

coworker!jake who watches you through your window one night. you left the curtains cracked. you’re on the couch, curled up in a hoodie that’s not yours, eating takeout, watching something with your brows furrowed. you look tired. he wonders who hurt you. wants to fix it. wants to be the reason you don’t look like that.

coworker!jake who convinces himself it’s not creepy. not really. it’s caring. protective. he’s the only one who sees the real you — what if you need him and don’t even know it?

coworker!jake who gets good at covering his tracks. who’s always been quiet, unremarkable, forgettable at the office — and uses that to his advantage. nobody notices when he takes longer lunches. when he finishes early to walk past your yoga class. when he memorizes your car’s license plate just in case.

coworker!jake who writes fake drafts of emails to you. they start professional. “hey, can you review this deck?” but then it turns into:

“you looked so pretty today.”

“i’d kill to make you smile like that again.”

“why do you look at everyone else like they matter?” he never sends them. not yet.

coworker!jake who starts getting bolder. brushes his hand against yours when he hands you reports. says your name low and slow, watches your lips when you talk. you think he’s just shy. nervous. sweet. but that’s what makes you smile at him more often. that’s what makes him delusional.

coworker!jake who sees you at happy hour once, laughing with a guy he doesn’t recognize. he stands in the corner, eyes fixed on you, fists clenched. he follows the guy to his car. memorizes the plate. searches everything about him when he gets home. finds his insta. his old facebook. sees the same hoodie you wore in one of his posts.

coworker!jake who can’t sleep that night. something snaps. you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t notice the way you pick at your sleeves when you’re anxious. who doesn’t know you hate the sound of people chewing but pretend to laugh when someone eats loud just to be nice. who doesn’t even know you like he does.

coworker!jake who leaves a note on your desk the next day. unsigned. it’s not threatening — he’s not like that. it just says: “you deserve better. he doesn’t see you the way i do.” you laugh about it with your friends. joke that you’ve got a secret admirer. you even say “lowkey kinda hot though.”

and coworker!jake hears that. because of course he does. and that’s the moment he falls. fully. irreversibly. you want him. even if you don’t know it yet. he just has to wait. guide you. protect you from distractions. you’ll thank him someday.

coworker!jake who starts showing up exactly when things go wrong. your uber cancels? he offers a ride. printer jams? he’s already there. you’re swamped with work and need coffee? he’s back in ten minutes, holding your order without needing to ask.

coworker!jake who plays it off like coincidence. “oh, i was just heading that way anyway.” “no big deal.” “glad i could help.” but his hands shake a little when you thank him. when you smile and call him a lifesaver. because this is what he wants. to be useful. wanted. needed.

coworker!jake who starts noticing the difference between your real smile and your work smile. you’ve never said it out loud, but he knows. he’s seen you plaster on fake cheer for clients, for your manager, for guys trying too hard. but when you thank him, it’s real. soft. warm. he memorizes that smile like it’s scripture.

coworker!jake who drives a different route home just in case you’re walking. just in case it rains. just in case you need a ride. you never do, but he feels better knowing he’s close.

coworker!jake who watches you cry once outside a bar after a bad date. you don’t see him. he’s across the street, half hidden behind his car door. he doesn’t interrupt. doesn’t comfort you. just watches. feels his heart ache. wants to destroy whoever made you look that way. you post a sad playlist on your story the next day. he listens to the whole thing. adds every song to his own.

coworker!jake who starts leaving little things on your desk. your favorite snack. a hair tie. cold brew when you’ve had a rough meeting. but never with a note. never with a name. you ask around once, trying to figure out who’s doing it. he shrugs. you joke. “maybe i’ve got a guardian angel.” he smiles like he knows something you don’t.

coworker!jake who hears you call him “reliable” once. in passing. “yeah, jake’s sweet. super reliable. always shows up when i need him.” he replays it in his head for days. like a love confession. like a promise.

coworker!jake who starts dressing better. still quiet. still shy. but his hair’s neater. shirts fit a little closer. cologne subtle but clean. you notice. you tilt your head and say “new look?” and he shrugs but can’t meet your eyes. you like it. you tell him you like it. and that night he stays up til 3 am scrolling your socials. just to feel close.

coworker!jake who doesn’t need to stalk you anymore. you come to him now. with problems. with errands. with stories. you ask him to walk you to your car when it’s dark. you trust him. and he thinks: see? this is what love is. not loud. not messy. not dramatic. just… always being there. you just need time. and he’ll give you forever.

coworker!jake who hears about your breakup before you even tell him. he saw the guy’s profile picture disappear from your socials. saw the change in your playlists. saw the notes in your voice. sharper now, tired. but he waits. pretends he doesn’t know. and when you finally show up to work with swollen eyes and a soft, fake smile, he says quietly “you okay?” and you almost cry. because no one else asked.

coworker!jake who drives you home that night. you didn’t even mean to ask. it just slipped out. “can you maybe… give me a ride?” his hands grip the steering wheel tighter. of course he can.

coworker!jake who doesn’t expect to come inside. really, he doesn’t. but you say “just for a second. i don’t wanna be alone yet.” and suddenly he’s stepping into your apartment for the first time. everything smells like you. looks like you. he sees the hoodie he’s watched you wear a dozen times, folded. his breath catches.

coworker!jake who sits on your couch and listens. really listens. you talk about the breakup. about feeling stupid. tired. drained. he nods. offers quiet sympathy. and when you trail off and whisper “am i that hard to love?” he answers before you finish. “no. no, you’re not.” his voice cracks. it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said.

coworker!jake who gets up to leave, but you grab his wrist. “stay. just for a little.” and he does. of course he does. you curl up beside him on the couch like it’s natural. your head on his chest. your fingers gripping his sleeve. his heart pounds. you fall asleep. he doesn’t. he watches you for hours. memorizes how you breathe. feels like he’s been chosen.

coworker!jake who starts keeping your favorite snacks in his car. just in case. who sets your ringtone to something cute. keeps your texts unread until he can savor them alone.

coworker!jake who you hug goodbye the next morning. still half asleep, mumbling “you’re my favorite person lately” before yawning. and it breaks something in him. because he thinks maybe you do love him. maybe this is it. maybe it’s real now.

coworker!jake who starts saying no to dates. friends. everything. his whole world narrows to you. you. you. you.

coworker!jake who opens a locked folder on his phone labeled with your initials. screenshots. photos. clips of you laughing. crying. talking. walking. he watches them when he misses you. which is always.

coworker!jake who doesn’t even know you’re at the bar until he gets the text. a blurry photo of your drink. “come outtt loser i miss you 🥲” his heart stutters. he wasn’t going to go out tonight. but you asked. and you never ask.

coworker!jake who finds you half tipsy and glowing, perched at a booth with your legs tucked under you and your phone in your lap. you wave when you see him with a big, clumsy grin like he’s the person you were waiting for all along.

coworker!jake who sits next to you and tries to stay normal. but you’re leaning on him. laughing too hard. head thrown back. eyes soft. you whisper “i’m drunk” like it’s a secret, and he smiles. “i know.” you giggle like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

coworker!jake who drives you home. your steps are uneven. you grab his arm and mumble “you’re so good to me. why are you so good to me?” and he says “because i love you.” but he says it quiet. like it could’ve been something else. like it doesn’t matter. you don’t react.

coworker!jake who helps you into bed. pulls your shoes off. sets your phone to charge. brings you water. and as he turns to leave, you stop him. fingers curling into his wrist. eyes glassy, blinking up at him like he’s the only thing in the room that isn’t spinning. “can you just… stay for a second?” he hesitates. but only for show.

coworker!jake who lays down next to you, stiff at first. unsure. trying to be good. respectful. but then you roll over. drape a leg over his. press your face into his neck. you whisper “you smell safe.” and that’s it. that’s what kills him.

coworker!jake who lets you kiss him. because you do. soft, lazy, a little messy, drunk and warm and real. you cup his face. sigh against his mouth. and he doesn’t stop it. doesn’t pull away. he kisses you back like he’s drowning. like he’s never going to get the chance again. his hands don’t roam. he doesn’t push. he’s good. but his whole body shakes.

coworker!jake who stays up long after you fall asleep. you’re curled into his chest again, breathing soft. he memorizes everything. how you taste. how you held him like you meant it. how you moaned his name like it belonged to you. even if it didn’t go any further. even if you don’t remember it tomorrow.

coworker!jake who leaves before sunrise. writes a sticky note: “hope you feel okay. drink water. :)” signs it like always: —jake. acts like nothing happened when you text later. and you? you don’t remember all of it. just the comfort. the safety. you say thanks for taking care of me last night. again. always. then you say “i don’t know what i’d do without you.” and he just replies: “you won’t ever have to.”

coworker!jake sees the name flash across your phone screen and doesn’t blink. doesn’t flinch. just watches. the text from your ex reads “hey… can we talk soon?” you laugh. roll your eyes. toss your phone on the desk like it’s nothing. “he always does this when he’s bored.” but jake hears the shift in your voice. the way you say always. like there’s history. like there’s room left to forgive.

that night, jake doesn’t sleep. just opens tabs. cross checks old usernames, the accounts he found, anything that leads back to him. your ex’s car. your ex’s office. his current girlfriend. you didn’t even know he had one, did you? but jake does.

coworker!jake doesn’t need to hurt him. yet. that would be messy. obvious. he just starts removing options. an anonymous report to hr about an inappropriate comment your ex made at a party last year. screenshots of thirsty dms he’s sent other girls, all compiled in a pdf. sent to his girlfriend. a burner email to his boss with flagged content from his socials. a fake tinder profile posted in his name. a warning. a reminder.

you say to jake a week later “kinda weird— my ex just disappeared again. guess he lost interest.” and jake just shrugs. but inside, he’s smiling. of course he did. there’s nothing left for him here.

coworker!jake starts tightening the circle. you go out less. he picks you up when you’re tired. drops off food when you’re sick. remembers things you forgot you told him.

there’s no one else now.

it’s just you and him. finally.

the way it was always meant to be.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[stealurhart]

why do i feel hollow?

pairing: college!jeongin x reader x bsf!skz

notes: reader is from busan (not significant to the plot), jeongin and reader are studying in seoul. The rest of skz are also wingmen. Oh and skz is a bunch of college students doing what they love by making music. may contain themes like being a floater friend. I believe in yearning jeongin. We also love a chalant man.

all fluff.

I aint counting these words i but theyre 7 long and dramatic scrolls across my mums old iphone 14

dividers by @hyuneskkami

sypnosis: after a week of having Jeongin as your eye candy, a semester-long project draws you and your popular member of a band project partner closer. How close is close, when your busy life as a biology-majoring student-athlete gets in the way of your friendship — and the mutual feelings still remain?

You didn’t particularly connect with your campus mates deeply.

You had friends, many actually. But you preferred to spend your lunches alone while you watched science documentaries. In lectures, you sit alone so that you can better focus on what the professor is saying.

To Jeongin, he found it impressive how you looked like a loner but much happier and at peace than being around talking to the cool seniors. An observant person, he knew you were a new student still settling into university. It’s the classic freshman lanyard that hung the gate card perpetually on your neck, and the styled outfits alongside your coordinated hairpins that no student would bother to put on after the third month.

You spun your apple pencil between your fingers, trying to seem busy even after adding the project’s deadline into your calendar. Watching the girl beside you find someone else to partner up with her for the project, waiting at your seat until nobody else could find a partner was the best option since you didn’t know anyone in the lecture hall anyways.

That was until you felt a tap on your shoulders. When your turned around, your eyes widened. Your poetry and literature class eye candy smiled at you, making your heart beat slightly faster.

“You wanna be partners?” he offered, tidying his bleached hair that contrasted his jet black roots. “name’s Jeongin, by the way.”

His voice surprised you much more than the fact that he asked you to be his project partner. You didn’t expect him to sound so… sweet.

Yet, your face doesn’t move a muscle, which you felt guilty for after seeing him wince at your lack of expression. Silently, you nodded, patting the empty seat next to you as if it was an order for him to sit.

Your professor immediately started to elaborate about the project after Jeongin sat down and scooted his chair closer to you. Instinctively, you covered the lower half of your face with a hand when you realised that you both were the last to settle on being partners. A chuckle came out of Jeongin’s mouth, which you heard over your professor’s voice.

Yet, you didn’t muster the courage to look him in the eye. He was cute, but you never intended to have a reason to talk to him, until the project that required both of you to write a poem about each other. “The more the emotion, the better the mark,” your professor explained, before the rest of it was drowned out by uncertain thoughts about your first ever project partner in college.

Upon the end of the lecture, you heard unzipping and pen clicking. The boy with glasses nudged your elbow and slid a post-it with his number on it.

“You haven’t told me your name yet. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I saw you talking to the seniors at the student orientation. you’re new, right?” Jeongin pointed out, sounding a little softer to come off as more friendly. “If I’m going to write a poem that does you justice… then we should spend time to know each other better, shouldn’t we?”

Finally, you turned your head towards him. Taking a good look at his sharp features up close, your lips curved up slightly. “I’m y/n,” you introduced yourself. “It’s my first semester here… I haven’t found a student club yet, so I don’t really know anyone yet. If that information serves any purpose.”

When Jeongin heard your worries, he almost felt bad for you. What a poor thing, moving to a completely new and unfamiliar campus. It’s no wonder that he always saw you eating in the lunch hall with your notes out, because you haven’t found someone to talk to while eating after student orientation had ended.

“Are you not from here then? No old friends, or family?” he gasped. “I mean… your Busan accent kinda gives it away.”

“Does it?” you replied, cheeks flushing pink from embarrassment. “I grew up there, and my parents told me that Seoul was the best place to pursue higher education, that’s why I’m here.”

“Hey, nothing to be ashamed of… I’m from Busan too,” he said. “What’s your major, then?”

“Biology,” you replied, grabbing the nape of your own neck. “Poetry and literature… it’s just to keep my hobbies alive.”

“Hobbies…” Jeongin repeated. “I’m just here because it’s the closest thing to singing, actually. I’m scared now, I don’t think I’ll be able to be as poetic as your writing.”

The way he joked around even though it was your first time speaking to each other — it made you feel warm and less tense. To be honest, you already missed the turn back to your dorm, but you couldn’t help but talk to him even more. Even though you could feel some sort of awkwardness in the really unsmooth transitions of different questions that he tried hard to make relevant, you saw his persistence in trying to make you feel at home.

When you reached your dorm, you couldn’t stop thinking about that day, to the point where you couldn’t sleep. It was the way he walked you back to make sure nothing bad happened to you, the way he texted you after, checking in on you.

jeongin:

is this yn’s number? jeongin here

you said you wanna take up a sport? didn’t think such a quiet person would play sports lol

anyways, get some rest, since pal class is 8a.m tomorrow. I heard the prof lost a bet so he took the earliest slot.

my group hyungs say he walks in with a cup of coffee haha

He even gave you the contacts of student club leaders, in hopes that their interest groups would match your liking as per what you have told him. He was so caring (and handsome too), it was hard not to lay in your bed and kick your feet while updating and thanking him for his efforts to help you settle into uni life.

you:

thankss

youre cooler than my student ori seniors 😛

ill sleep well

Although a weekday, the campus cafes quickly crowded with students surprisingly. Sighing to himself, Jeongin shook his head and decided to take you to the park and have an impromptu picnic by the river.

The grass was dry, much to his relief. He didn’t want to make you ruin your little outfit that he didn’t expect you to put more effort in than your typical basic tee and pink sweatpants (the pink colours are already your way of trying). The boy himself wouldn’t want to stain his knee-length jorts and his college-branded crewneck anyways. He had some sense of fashion, a little more neat this time since you both are hanging out.

The plan was for the hangout to be casual. After eating, he would take you to the student club fair to help you choose a community. Then, he intended to take you to street stalls and recommend good food. But you were completely unaware of his plans, and it took a while to catch on that he tried to show you around and introduce you to more people. You found it strange how dedicated he was, yet everything still seemed like he took his time with you. Perhaps he showed care through acts of service, which you weren’t quite used to.

Sun rays hitting your back was a relief from how cold it’s been getting lately since summer was coming to an end.

After a few conversations, you found out that Jeongin was really damn good at singing. Apparently, he found himself comfortable in an 8-man musical interest group — and they make pretty damn good music. In fact, he was carrying a guitar around while you guys hung out. Out of curiosity, you made him sing a ballad, but he sung something written by some people called Han, Changbin and Bang Chan. You didn’t know who they were, but internally you thanked them for writing something that let Jeongin’s bright vocals shine.

“I haven’t sung this in a while, sorry if it sounds off,” he uttered after.

“Off?” you questioned. “You sound amazing — heavenly, even. This entire Stray Kids band thing should just get out of here and sign with a record label.”

“Well,” he chuckled. “I must warn you, we don’t really make ballads. It’s more noisy than you think.”

“I’d say you should earn some side cash by busking around Hongdae,” you joked, “There’s no way you guys are just making this a casual thing.”

“Oh, but we aren’t just making this a casual thing,” he said, sitting up proudly and leaned closer as he tilted his head at you. “We do perform during talent shows and earn funding money from it. You should come and watch. At some point it turns into a rave. But if you don’t like that, then you could just sit through and wait until the next act.”

“I feel like I’m going to hurt your feelings when I say I’m not into raves,” you muttered.

Of course you weren’t into big bam boom music. He could tell from the way you owned everything in pastel colours, down to the flowy and fresh clothing you had on. It made your throat burn a little, thinking that there were probably really attractive and hot girls likely being loyal fans of their music. After all, the makeup and fashion game in Seoul was insane, it was hard to compete with such beautiful women who are cool enough express themselves and turn heads.

“That’s sad. I prefer performing and being excited, because it also connects me with the audience.”

In the name of “looking for clarification”, you asked him, “then, that must mean you’re pretty popular, hm?”

Upon hearing your question, Jeongin blushed a little, then hung his head low in humility. “I’m not the most popular member… I guess our dancers and rappers are more famous,” he downplayed himself. “I get girls in my dms sometimes, but I don’t reply if I’ve never met them in real life — if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You scoffed at Jeongin’s teasing, but your face heated up when you realised it was because he completely saw through you. And he did it again — he laughed — gosh, something about the way he laughed was so charming. Your sarcasm paired with denial was cute to him, which intrigued him about you even more.

“What I’m saying is, you probably will be envied if you say “Jeongin’s a good friend of mine”, ” he subtly bragged. “You should try it out.”

The day ended after you managed to make friends with a sports club, and fighting over the dinner bill in a restaurant that he took you to since you both were craving italian food.

jeongin:

sent a recording

don’t tell me you’re asleep already haha, did i wear out your social battery?

sorry 🥲 pls listen to another ballad i sung when u wake up at least?

you:

Doing good, jeongin :)

Naturally, Jeongin became more present in your college life. Endless cafe visits, poetry and literature studies in the library, and crashing at your place whenever he just wanted to taste home-cooked food. You even gave him the keys to your dorm, so that he could just enter while waiting for you to come back from training.

And every single time, he bought you banana milk. It wasn’t something you told him you loved, but you always took no longer than 3 minutes to have it gone with the wind (in this case, your stomach), so he just kept buying more and more. At some point, he even brought clothes and kept them in your drawer for whenever he hangs around, because he just visited that often.

His excuse was that your bed was softer than his, and that the community snack fridge was something his hostel lacked. The boy was always gobbling something up whenever he stayed, so it became a regular occurrence to see him fall asleep on the communal dining table with his student laptop still on. He frequented so often, that the other students at your hostel just cook an extra serving in case he was around. The boy was always eager to entertain everyone with a guitar and his unique voice, so shortly afterwards Stray Kids’ instagram page gained more followers.

Beyond presence, was vulnerability. Late night comforting when you’re homesick, Jeongin just breaking down in front of you whenever you ask “are you okay?”. Sometimes, you both just cry together and fall asleep in each other’s arms. As funny as it sounds, things like these work better when you feel safer with someone.

But as time passed, you grew busier and busier. Your semester exams were coming up, and barging into Jeongin’s dorm was no longer an option. The fact that you were doing sports at the same time was an absolute killer combo to your schedule. You saw him much less outside of poetry and literature lectures, as you both were focusing on your own majors.

jeongin:

your lights are on again.

it’s 2 already

i dont want to bother your studies… but rest is important too

You’re so hardworking, let’s meet up again when you’re free 🙂‍↕️

you:

sorry jeonginnn

one day

And that was the last time you talked to him since a week ago. Your exams were done, but Jeongin had his own things to do too, something about having to juggle between college fair night and physics equations. The guilt for ignoring his texts for days and leaving him on delivered too many times was too much, so you told yourself you’d better come down and see him yourself.

One thing you knew was that he spends most of his time recording lines whenever college fair night was near, so when you rung the doorbell, you were met by a boy with round eyes and and a round face. His hair was long, much like someone who looked like part of a band. Behind him were a bunch of wires and some 5 or 6 men on the couch lazing around, yet all having their heads turned to someone singing into the recording mic.

With a skeptic look on his face, scanned you up and down, perhaps because he doesn’t remember any of the other members bringing a girl who looked like you into their sad-looking studio before. “Delivery girl, looking to audition, or a girlfriend? Well, clearly not the first one, and we aren’t accepting auditions due to our perfect lineup.” he ruled out, leaning against the doorframe as he raised an eyebrow.

“Who’s that, Han?” a taller man said, revealing himself in a grown-out buzzcut. His features looked just as sharp as Jeongin’s, except that Jeongin had a more chiselled look to him. It was enough to know— Hwang Hyunjin.

He noticed the way your eyes searched the apartment. Situated in front of the recording mic, Jeongin was patiently listening to Chan’s feedback, until your gaze lingered for a little too long. You don’t miss the way his breath caught and his posture straightened. “The ayen you’re looking for is being held back by bangchan to record some lines,” Hyunjin explained.

“Frankly, I think Jeongin’s being a menace on purpose today, so that he can stay longer in the recording room,” Han said, matter-of-factly. “You know, he usually just sings maybe once or twice and gets to rest.”

“We should probably let her in then, maybe it will prompt him to do it properly, haha,” Hyunjin messed around, snickering while shaking his head in disbelief. “Seems like you brought some banana milk for him?”

“Oh- this?” you held up the drink. “He always bought me banana milk during our literature study sessions, I just thought he might want some.”

When you told the boys about how Jeongin treated you so often, they let out a unified “ohh” while giving each other a mischievous look. And not in a making-fun-of-you way, but more of a he’s-up-to-something way.

“We’ll let you in, on the condition that you don’t tell anyone what the song sounds like,” Han negotiated. You nodded in acceptance.

“You’re not gonna believe me when I tell you this,” Hyunjin crouched down, keeping his voice low. “Ayen’s keeps going against Chan’s words today, and he’s really focused on the lyrics and the emotion conveyed. I think he’s yearning or something, judging by his sudden attitude towards emotion.” For a minute, hearing it felt unreal. You couldn’t tell whether Hyunjin was truthful, or just being an annoying friend.

The egoistic voice in your head wasn’t the one convincing you. It’s knowing that he grew so close to you, only for you to push him away and act cold whenever an exam comes. It was like a sledgehammer to your heart, the way his face lit up after not having heard from you for a week, or not having seen you for more.

Sighing to yourself, you kicked off your sneakers and were quickly rushed in by Hyunjin and Han, like they were so excited to hear from you what Jeongin looks like in love. His voice slipped into the microphone, rich and textured, as if he were sculpting emotion through vocal cords. You admired him so much, you knew you were screwed by how you’ve been staring intensely as he did his thing.

To your ears, he sounded like an angel. However, the ear of musicians and producers were quick to point out areas for improvement. Making music was surprisingly harder than it looked, especially for producers who needed to communicate with the singers well.

“I’ve been here for too long,” Jeongin complained. “I can’t with singing Japanese.”

As you turned back to the two on the laptop and an emotional support Han who probably gave up on the stubborn Jeongin a long time ago, you saw Chan trying not to laugh before collecting his patience back.

“One last time, ayen,” Chan cued, before playing the instrumental. “Let’s try it.”

“Yongbok- i mean — Ayen,” Changbin’s voice fell low and stern as he spun around in the office chair. “Try stressing it this way…”

“This is not the first time you’ve called me that…” he whispered under his breath.

The instrumental was intense, but what caught your attention was the fact that the lyrics were lowkey really yearning. It was different from the ballads you asked him to sing — it was no longer fluffy and soothing, the boy was putting soul into it.

“One more.”

“Don’t lose your flow again!”

“That was good, one more.”

The other seven crowded around Chan, analysing closely and hoping that 3racha would pass him. According to Minho, it’s been taking quite a few minutes, because Jeongin stumbles on his words so easily when it comes to singing in Japanese.

“Good.” the only word that the rest of Stray Kids needed to hear in order for them to rejoice and jump around for Jeongin.

Among all the chaos of 5 happy men and relieved Changbin and Chan, you saw Jeongin wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead and take off his headphones. The next thing you knew was that he started walking over to the table you were leaning on, grinning sheepishly as he took the bottle of banana milk from your hands, not realizing how much tension he’d been carrying until it melted in that one moment.

“You coming to college fair night or nah?” he asked, the tone in his voice still showing that he was unsure of whether to be casual. He suddenly became aware of how sweaty his palms were. You watched as the room fell silent, all eyes were on you.

“There’s no way I’d miss the chance to see you on stage,” you giggled.

Success. All the guys started elbowing each other in the ribs.

The air reeked of grass and barbeque. The college fair night was one decibel away from getting complaints from nearby residents, due to everyone hollering their lungs out as if the outdoor showcase segment was a rave in a stadium.

It was the first time you dared to step out of the house wearing platform shoes given your fashion taste, but you needed to be taller than the crowd if you wanted to see something. When Stray Kids went on stage, the crowd grew absolutely wild. Your friends were shaking you crazily, knowing your little crush on one of the members. The atmosphere grew hyped — After all, who wouldn’t be excited to see eight handsome men dancing and singing to high-energy music?

Throughout their act, they played 3 songs, last one being none other than ‘Hollow’— which you saw being made in real-time for Jeongin’s part at least. The song started out slow, until the electric guitar was introduced, then had just the perfect buildup to the first verse which Jeongin had to sing. Before all of that though, there was a longer pause before the song started, even after the emcees managed to hype the crowd up when mentioning that ‘Hollow’ was a new song of theirs. The lights dimmed, relieving the sky momentarily from the immense light pollution.

…except for the spotlight that was right on the one who rewrote his poetry project again and again, getting frustrated with himself for not describing you well enough. He wondered what you were up to whenever you took longer than two days to reply. Same man that loved and cared so shamelessly, that he could just declare out into a crowd of hundreds, just how much he related to the song’s lyrics by showing it through the strain in his voice, and the gasps that came after from using a lot of strength to deliver those lines.

The lights faded back in. You could’ve sworn that the crowd was much louder than the backtrack and live vocals on speakers. Mid-way into singing his first few lines, Jeongin found you pressed onto the metal of the front barriers, and you were so glad you pushed everyone away for your spot, because you got to see his dimples that formed when you waved to him. Being up close, it felt so intimate, like Jeongin was speaking every lyric to you.

“One thing that makes the live different from the studio,” he repeated in a flashback. “Is that you can hear how much heart we have for our music

seungmin:

have you left already?

ayen’s a nervous wreck, he had to tell me to get you to come here so that you guys can talk.

we’re in the backstage tents, i think he suffered death by surprising himself.

Your friends grabbed your wrist just as you were about to enter the tents, insisting that they should help retouch your makeup and neaten your hair. After taking a good look in your friend’s pocket mirror, you took a deep breath and slowly drew back the ‘curtain doors’. There they were, the eight handsome men that can sing, dance, and rap; though, only one that mattered talking to that day.

“AYENN~” the group said in unison, pushing him towards the entrance after he fumbled through a paper bag to hand you a boquet of flowers that you didn’t think he’d remember were your favourites.

It surprised you how much he was trembling as he placed it in your hands for you — like he intended for you to give the flowers a specific first impression — considering that your bond started out with him being the one initiating quite literally almost everything. His grip on your wrist grew stronger (but not more forceful) when he realised that you purposely refused to move your remaining arm. Examining your glossy eyes that almost disappeared when you laughed cheekily, he stepped closer in a one-upping manner.

“What’s that you’ve got there, hm? I clearly remember saying that as long as you’re around me, your card balance doesn’t change.” he hummed, contesting you. “You’ve always left me hanging online, don’t tell me you want to do this now, yn. I can smell those flowers even before you entered.”

“You’re making it up,” you lied sarcastically. “It’s just my detergent.”

“Nice try, yn. I know your detergent is mint and not floral,” he rolled his eyes. “Whatever, let’s go home and talk. Those losers have been relying on Changbin for a ride.”

Dry air started to hurt your nose a little, but you’d take it overnbeing in standing pens where everyone around you was sweating like crazy any day. The leaves on the ground looked shrivelled up, and overall, the parade square was left much more peaceful and calm after everyone had gone back to keep up with their college lives. Nightly walks with Jeongin hadn’t been a thing for almost a month when fitness training ate into past dinner time, and Jeongin had places to be. That night, he became content being able to share the sidewalk with you, brushing your fingers ‘on accident’. You both tried to act casual when in reality it sent sparks and almost rewired yall’s brains.

The silence hung heavy. After all, it was your first proper conversation after burying yourself in textbooks to the point of isolation.

“I missed you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious.

“I missed you,” he continued. “Not like a quick ‘hey, how are you?’ but really missed you. The talks, the walks. Back when I could get responses from you…”

It stopped you dead in your tracks. Initially, you planned to say “me too” but that would just be beating around the bush and avoiding the obvious. You loved him. Everything feels right when you’re with him. There was never a time where he left you to drift around like the floater friend you’ve been. You don’t even know why you constantly check your phone for his texts.

By impulse, words tumbled out smoother than you could control, “Yeah. The distance made me realise I love you.”

The words landed like a dropped glass—sharp, clear, impossible to ignore. You froze — eyes wide, breath caught. You had meant to say those words, but not in that moment. You mentally prepared yourself for the few seconds-long battle that came with waiting for Jeongin’s response.

“I love you too, jagiya.”

When he entwined his fingers from one free hand with yours, the warmth of his hands was comforting like hot milk to an ill person. The word jagiya wasn’t a throwaway. He gifted it to you, endearingly.

Within milliseconds, he cupped your face and leaned forward, closing the distance by kissing you. You felt him smirking against your oh-so kissable lips he had been thinking of the entire conversation, you could tell he had waited an agonising amount of time trying to see you.

I used to hide behind similes,

dress you up in metaphor—

a rhyme here,

power of three there.

But none of it said what I really meant.

You’re not a line I can perfect.

You’re not a passionate fire or a sky or a storm that sounds correct.

You’re you.

And not just a project.

“Wow, jagiya,” Jeongin nodded in approval. “Flirting and submitting it for— okay, okay! I like it. I expected really wild metaphors, but I like this too… you’re amazing, yn.”

Tucked under a tree, you released him from your pinch, you sipped on your banana milk and placed your chin on his shoulder, patting his arm as a cue to share his poem. Shyly, he grabbed the notebook on his lap, long pause before he could bring himself to read it to you.

“darkness is the absence of light.

and cold is the absence of heat.

but in the absence of you,

my world turns dark and cold

because you’re the light and warmth.”

A/n: i have a ten pic limit… i wanted to put one last divider but it can’t happen.

do not reupload, translate or copy my work



[crowbraincoin]

Where to make friends as an adult.

Recently I saw a devastating citation stating that most adults find it hard to make new friends as it feels like there is a lack of community and resources to do so. It takes nearly 50 hours of time together to move from mere acquaintance to casual friend. For more advanced levels of friendship, it can take more than 200 hours before you can consider someone “close”. (source)

So, though I'm not an expert by any means, I thought I'd offer some examples, ideas, and tips on finding and making friends as an adult! Check below the break :>

Ideas on where to find friends:

🆓 Local free (or cheap) events. I went to a presentation that included a free beer in the ticket cost and I had a blast! Most cities have an events calendar you can look at. Soon I'm attending a free event for the transgender community honoring those that came before us. 📖 Library programs. Most libraries that I've seen don't even require a library card, just your email or phone number to sign up for a program! Be it a presentation, class, or event, the library is the place to be!

❕Events of interest. I think about what I'm interested in and what I would like to connect with people about, and I search around to see what I can find. I use sites like Eventbrite to help me search.

💻 Online Communities. For those who can't make it out very often, consider joining online communities by searching for fandoms or topics of interest and see if there is a discord server, bluesky feed, tumblr community, or other communities on socials!

How to make friends:

Consistency. Once you find a place you enjoy going to, an organization you whose events your enjoy attending, or a series of events that takes place KEEP GOING!! Consistency is key, you have to keep interacting with folks to become friends with them.

Transparency. Just be yourself, but that doesn't mean you should be trauma dumping! Sharing personal detail allows us to feel closer to people, but make sure you're not sharing too much information! That can always come later when you're closer friends.

Confidence. You have to believe that you're someone that people want to be friends with. Don't believe it? Well ask your current friends why they are friends with you! You'll not only get a confidence boost, but also hopefully share a touching moment with your existing friends.

Follow up. If you want to be friends with someone you've met, you have to build up the nerve to further connect with them. This means sharing phone numbers or socials.

Start talking. The best way to do this is by asking questions or by giving a non-threatening compliment. Try not to make it all about you, though it is easiest to talk about the one thing we know best (ourselves) it typically won't help you make new friends! Show that you're interested in them, their thoughts and feelings on the topic of the event or a neutral topic such as musicians or food.

Questions. Ask open ended and non-invasive questions and follow through. Examples below!

Invite them out. Once you've established an acquaintance, invite them to hang out! BUT if you're the one inviting them out then you need to make sure you have some plan in mind. This could be going to a trivia night, a local event, or going to a new place together.

Further questions or topics of discussion:

I'm new to this [place or reocurring event] how long have you been coming here? Do you like it so far?

If you could be a crab or a lobster, which would you be and why? (make sure you have an answer ready!)

How long have you known about [place or event theme]? What got you interested in [place or event theme]?

(If at an event with drinks or food) I'm having trouble deciding what to choose, what should I try?

What superpower would you want and why?

What do you do for work? Do you like it? (follow by asking non-invasive questions about their job. This is easier when you have no clue what the job position actually is, lol).

Hey, I really like your style! Where did you get your outfit?/Who or what are your fashion influences?

What questions or topics of discussion do you typically go for when meeting new people?

[formulafanfics13]

The Secret Girlfriend - Chapter 1

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The girl the world thinks they know

It always starts with the shoes. The paparazzi photos never catch her walking, only arriving. Louboutin heels like blades. Sometimes barefoot. Sometimes still wearing the silver anklet she never takes off, like some quiet fuck-you to symmetry. In a world where women are taught to be nice and tidy and quiet, Lily James bleeds beautifully into the chaos. She is all hips and contradiction, all silk and sin. And everyone wants a piece.

By twenty-one, she's already more myth than model. A household name on a first-name basis, like Madonna or Cher or that bitch you can't stop hate-stalking at 3am. 

Lily. 

Just Lily. 

Vogue calls her "a generation-defining supermodel." Rolling Stone once referred to her as "the most dangerously intoxicating thing to happen to fashion since Kate Moss kissed a crack pipe." Someone printed that on a T-shirt. She wore it to a Marc Jacobs afterparty and smiled for the cameras.

She's everywhere and nowhere. The press call her "The Crown Jewel of Monaco" but she doesn't even show up to her own brand launches half the time. She doesn't need to. Just the rumour that she might be attending triples the value of whatever event it is. Her face is on every magazine. Her body is on every billboard. And yet... nobody really knows who the fuck Lily James is.

But the world pretends it does. And the world is obsessed.

It started when she was six. Her parents, colder than a Versace warehouse in February, stuck her in ballet classes, pageants, and perfectly posed childhood campaigns. She smiled because she was told to. It stuck. By twelve, she'd walked her first editorial. At sixteen, she signed a contract with Victoria's Secret that changed her life and burned her relationship with her parents to the ground. They never forgave her for showing skin. She never forgave them for trying to control it.

By seventeen, she had her own apartment in London. By eighteen, she was on her sixth Vogue cover. By nineteen, she was being called a fashion oracle — everything she wore sold out in three hours or less. Her lips, her voice, her waist, her Instagram captions — all studied, copied, dissected. No matter what she did, people couldn't look away.

And she knew it.

The first time she trended worldwide, it wasn't for a campaign. It was for bleeding down the Victoria's Secret runway. She had caught her heel on the top step of the stage, tumbled, and split both knees open. Blood ran down her legs as she finished the walk. She smiled. Blew a kiss. Took her wings off backstage and lit a cigarette before the medic even touched her. That photo, the cigarette, the blood, the glassy-eyed grin, became a tattoo on a fan's thigh in Australia. Lily reposted it with the caption: "bitch fell but didn't break."

That was the moment the world fell in love.

Her daily routine is religious.

No matter what city she's in, Milan, Paris, Tokyo, LA, Lily James wakes up before 7am, even if she went to sleep two hours earlier. Her alarm is the sound of a camera shutter. No joke. She thinks it's funny. She makes herself a bowl of strawberries and an espresso before moving through her tiny rituals: Roll her neck. Light a blunt. Swipe through her calendar. Smear gloss on her lips. Sip. Pose. Stretch. Exist.

She runs when the air still feels like night. Pilates if her knees are bruised from a shoot. She is disciplined to the point of delusion, but in a way that looks angelic from the outside. Her skin always glows. She eats constantly. Shovels fries into her mouth at shoots between outfit changes. Once ordered three cheeseburgers during Paris Fashion Week and posted the receipt online with the caption "leave my metabolism alone xoxo". People called her unfiltered. Lily called it Tuesday.

She vapes like it's oxygen, cherry ice, the metallic click of it is the backing track to her every move. She vapes before makeup. During fittings. On yachts. On red carpets, if no one's looking. She posts thirst traps in couture and captions them "fucked your dad last night" with no emojis. The world laughs. Screenshots. Reposts.

But underneath it? There's a calm to Lily James that nobody ever talks about. Like she's the eye of the storm and she knows it.

She rarely speaks in interviews unless it's live. She's polite but distant, soft-voiced, impossibly gracious. When asked about her success, she shrugs and thanks her team. When asked about her scandals, she bites her lip and says, "I think people confuse honesty with recklessness. I'm just not pretending."

People say she's calm. She is. They say she's soft. She is. But they forget that soft doesn't mean weak.

Lily James has survived cities. She's walked for brands that destroyed other girls. She's slept four hours in four days across five countries and still made it to the front row of the Dior show with eyelashes perfectly curled. Her nose is pierced. Her nipples are too. You can see them in her editorials, tasteful, shocking, iconic. She once posted a mirror selfie in nothing but an oversized jacket and wrote "modesty is a social construct". Anna Wintour laughed. Vogue reposted it.

She's adored in fashion. Protected like royalty. Domenico and Stefano send her gifts "just because." Kate Moss calls her "my chaos daughter." Marc Jacobs once cried backstage watching her walk. Anna Wintour has publicly said that Lily James is the only model who "knows exactly when to cause a scene, and when to sit down and drink her tea."

And yet... despite all that noise, no one knows where she sleeps at night. They don't know who she shares her life with. No one's ever seen her in the same frame as a man for longer than 0.3 seconds, unless it's Jude Bellingham, and everyone knows they broke up forever ago.

She posts pictures of sunsets. Countertops. Her perfectly manicured hands holding strawberries. Her hip bones in white lace. A glass of champagne in a blurry hotel hallway. Her ankle hanging over a balcony ledge. The edge of someone's arm. But never more than that.

They say she's a party girl. They say she's a muse. They say she's reckless, holy, iconic, spoiled, hardworking, wild, calm, vapid, brilliant, stunning, fake, and real.

They say she's everywhere. But she's not. She's just Lily James. And she's exactly where she wants to be.

The first time Lily James ever saw Lando Norris, he had whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

It was some rainy Thursday in London. She was seventeen, running late for a casting, ducking into a coffee shop with her hoodie pulled low and her heels slung over one shoulder like a weapon. The place was packed, buzzing with laptop people and oat milk warriors and someone loudly arguing over a screenplay in the corner. Not a single free table in sight. Except there was a boy. Curled into a chair by the window. Black hoodie, curls tucked under a cap, head down in a laptop. Quiet. Alone.

She walked right up and said, "You look like you hate people. Mind if I join?"

He didn't even glance up. Just gestured to the seat across from him and said, "Can't hate you more than I hate the rain."

And that was that.

They didn't speak much at first. She ordered an espresso and a croissant. He had a hot chocolate the size of a soup bowl and three screens open. She asked if he was a gamer. He said no. Just busy. Then they sat there, in mutual silence, occasionally glancing at each other between sips. When she left, she said, "See you never, mystery boy."

He smiled, barely but cheekily, and replied, "Hope not."

They didn't exchange names. Not that day.

They ran into each other again three weeks later in the same café. She slid into the seat opposite without asking. He looked up and said, "You're late."

She grinned. He blushed. It was over before it started.

For a whole year, they were just friends. The kind of friends who know too much. Who spend weekends on her couch eating takeout and watching horror movies even though she hates them. Who leave each other voice notes that start with "don't panic but I did something stupid". Who sleep in the same bed on nights when the world feels too loud.

He never flirted. Never touched her in the wrong way. Never looked at her like the rest of the world did. He just saw her. All of her. The messy parts. The tired parts. The versions she didn't post.

And she trusted him. Instantly. More than she'd trusted anyone in her entire fucking life.

At eighteen, she'd been dating Jude Bellingham, sweet, grounded, golden retriever energy and a perfect first boyfriend. They were good together. Safe. Lily loved him in the way you love sunshine, warm, uncomplicated, always welcome. But as her world got louder, the covers, the travel, the backstage breakdowns, something shifted. Not in a cruel way. Not in a messy way. 

Just... quietly.

One night, they sat side-by-side at a party in Ibiza, and Lily looked at Jude and realized she didn't feel anything in her chest anymore. Just gratitude. Familiarity. Friendship.

So she told him. And he smiled and nodded. Said he felt the same. They hugged for too long. Kissed one last time. And just let go. No drama. No tears. No Instagram story with a cryptic caption.

They were friends the next day. They still are. Jude likes Lando. Thinks he's weird, in a good way. Soft and solid. Just what she needs.

The apartment in London was another story. Lando was never home. The racing schedule was insane. He said his flat felt like a hotel room he never checked into. She said, "Why not just move in with me?" Casual. Like it was nothing.

He paused. Blinked. And said, "Okay."

Three weeks later, his things were in her guest room. Except he never really used it. Somehow he always ended up in her bed. Platonic at first. Two friends curled under silk sheets, knees brushing, sleep softening the world outside.

But proximity does dangerous things. And one morning, he kissed her shoulder before getting out of bed. She didn't say anything. Just watched him walk to the kitchen, her heart clawing at her ribs.

They didn't talk about it for days. Just let the tension simmer. And then one night, after too much wine and a movie they didn't finish, he kissed her properly. Slow. Gentle. Like she was fragile glass. Like he already knew how easily she broke.

She moaned into his mouth and whispered, "I've been waiting for that."

They bought the Monaco penthouse on a joke. She'd said, "Let's run away." He'd said, "Only if it has a sea view."

The place was white and soft and full of light. Papaya-orange cushions for him. Baby blue walls for her. Two living rooms, one for her photo shoots, one for his content. A kitchen neither of them used but that he cooked in anyway. A balcony she loved to dance on barefoot. A bed they never made.

It was theirs.

Their friend group is chaos and perfection. A collection of the hottest, most unbothered people on the planet, each with their own brand of feral.

Barbara Palvin: runway angel, emotional support system, Lily's go-to for shots and secrets.

Lila Moss: younger but terrifying. Lily calls her "my little demon in Prada."

Jude Bellingham: ex turned best friend, emotionally fluent, always making sure Lily eats.

Pablo Gavi: the wildcard, younger than everyone but somehow always the loudest. He once dared Lily to jump off her yacht in couture. She did it.

Lando Norris: the anchor. The one who balances it all. Who watches the madness from the corner with a drink in hand, always tracking Lily with his eyes like she might disappear if he looks away too long.

They travel together. Celebrate together. Sleep in the same bed in different combinations. Nothing is off-limits. Nothing is weird. They just... exist. Loud and close and untouchable.

Lily is the sun of the group. Everyone orbits her. But she orbits Lando.

To the world, Lily James is the most famous girl on the planet. To her friends, she's just Lily. The one who drinks wine straight from the bottle. Who cries at Pixar movies. Who hogs the blanket and falls asleep with her cherry vape in hand.

And to Lando Norris? She's his. Entirely. The girl who kisses him on the forehead when she's hungover. Who hums Lana songs while brushing her teeth. Who texts "need head. bring nuggets" like it's a grocery list.

They don't need the world to know. Because what they have is private. Sacred. Real.

And she'd burn it all down for him. But only if he asked.

The Fashion World Knows. But They Don't Tell.

Lily James doesn't just walk fashion shows. She owns them. She floats through couture week like a cigarette ghost in heels, all slinky limbs and glossy lips, giving nothing, taking everything. Editors plan entire issues around her availability. Designers shift run orders because "Lily doesn't do third row."

But even in a world obsessed with what she's wearing, no one ever sees the most important detail. Who she walks for. Who she walks to.

Because Lando Norris is nearly always there. Not in the front row. Not beside Zendaya or Dua Lipa or whatever crypto heir's paying to sit next to Donatella. No, Lando is backstage, tucked into a quiet corner of organized chaos, shielded by fabric racks and temperamental stylists, where only the most trusted are allowed. Right where Anna Wintour puts him.

It started quiet. Everything with them does.

The first time he ever came to a show, it was Versace in Milan. He sat in the fifth row, hood up, pretending he was someone's assistant. Nobody noticed him, except Anna. Who clocked him immediately.

After the show, while Lily was still changing out of a beaded catsuit and trying to find her vape, Anna Wintour walked up to Lando, removed her sunglasses, and said, "You should've been closer."

He blinked, nervous. "I'm fine where I am."

She nodded once, then turned to her assistant and murmured, "Next time, backstage."

And from that point on, he was never not there, unless it clashed with a race, of course. Backstage at Chanel, Valentino, Jacquemus, YSL. Always somewhere near the garment racks, sipping a black coffee, watching her like the whole fucking show was just for him. The cameras could never find him. The designers always made sure of that.

Donatella Versace kisses both his cheeks every time she sees him. Marc Jacobs insists he tries on jackets while waiting for Lily to finish glam. Domenico and Stefano once paused a fitting so Lily could FaceTime Lando from Paris and ask his opinion on a hemline, he hated it, she agreed, they changed it.

He never complains. Never asks for a seat. Never tries to be part of it. He just watches.

Watches her get sewn into gowns by trembling assistants. Watches her blow kisses to the mirror before stepping onto the catwalk. Watches her strip out of tulle and velvet into a hoodie and cherry vape haze once the lights go down. He's her stillness in the storm. And everyone in fashion knows it. They just don't say it.

Because if there's one rule in Lily's world, it's that the love stays off-camera.

On the rare occasions Lando can't make it, whether he's trackside in Bahrain or locked in simulator hell, Jude or Pablo show up instead. No hesitation. No questions. Jude with a suit and a secret, Pablo with sunglasses and chaos. They sit backstage. They cheer. They carry her bags like it's holy ritual.

And the press?

They love it. Jude's name trends every time. "Are they back together?" "Why is he always there?" "What's their deal?" They eat it up. The internet assumes any man's hand in Lily's photos is Jude's, his rings, his wrists, the way he holds champagne.

Never once suspecting the boy who actually sleeps beside her. The boy who bought her those rings. The boy who's in the group shots, not the close-ups.

Lando likes it like this. He likes the blur. The anonymity. The way he can exist in her world without being swallowed by it.

In group photos, him, Lily, Jude, Barbara, Lila, Gavi, he blends in like wallpaper. He's the hoodie in the corner. The arm over Lily's chair. The grin behind someone's shoulder.

She's always touching him, but never obviously. A hand on his thigh. A leg across his lap. A whisper in his ear, disguised as laughter. He never corrects the headlines. Never flinches when people assume. Because there's something intoxicating about being the one thing the world doesn't know about her.

Everyone sees her lips. Her legs. Her lingerie campaigns and her tequila shots on yachts. But he sees the way she cries over music videos. The way she tucks her vape into her bra before shows. The way she hums under her breath while getting dressed. The way she texts "you breathing okay?" when he's stressed about a race. The world knows her face. He knows her silence.

The friend group is iron-clad. Tighter than secrets. Cleaner than NDAs. They're chaotic, sure, nights out that turn into airport mornings, brunches that end with someone in a cast, half-naked photos with captions like "accidents were had". But there's no jealousy. No gossip. No betrayal. Just trust.

Jude plays interference. Barbara runs PR. Lila handles the vibes. Gavi starts the drama, then forgets why.

And Lando? He's the soft-spoken shadow at Lily's side, always ready with a jacket, a joint holder, a way out.

No one in the group ever posts a picture without checking with Lily first. No one leaks. No one slips.

Because this is her safe space. And he's their golden boy. The sweet one. The calm one. The one who doesn't get involved unless someone hurts her, and then, only once.

There was one time. A stylist made a comment. Something about Lily's "runner's thighs" and whether she could "squeeze into a 0 if she stopped snacking."

Lando was there. Quiet in the corner. Watching her face freeze.

He didn't shout. Didn't confront. Just walked up to the stylist, leaned in, and whispered something. No one ever found out what it was. But the stylist didn't come back the next season.

The fashion world knows. They know whose eyes she scans for first after every finale walk. They know whose arms she melts into backstage once the chaos dies down. They know not to ask. Because Lily James gives the world everything but her heart.

And Lando Norris?

He has it, quietly. Always has.

The drivers talk about her constantly.

Not in press rooms or interviews, no, they know better than to give the media more than it already has. But in group chats, on long-haul flights, during late-night hotel poker games with whiskey bottles half-drained and race data glowing off their laptops, Lily James is their religion.

"Bro. That last post. You saw it, right?"

"The mirror one?"

"She's unreal. Like... I had a fucking dream."

"I literally woke up soaked in my own boxers."

"Shut the fuck up-"

"No seriously. I'm not even embarrassed."

Lando just smirks. Takes another sip of his drink. Doesn't say a word.

They send each other her posts like holy texts. A carousel of her in lingerie on a balcony in Cannes. A blurry shot from backstage at Fashion Week, her nipples clearly pierced under sheer fabric. A close-up of her mouth holding a vape between her teeth.

He always likes the message. Sometimes adds a fire emoji. Never more.

It's part of the bit now, "Lando's our honorary simp," George says. "Even Jude doesn't hold back." They all think she's just another one of Jude's lingering flings ,some impossibly hot ex that hangs around, maybe flirts with the group when she's in town, but isn't tied to anyone.

They think Lando and Lily James are adjacent, nothing more. He's close with Jude. Jude's close with her. Of course Lando knows her. They assume it's casual.

They have no idea

They don't know he's the one who unties her dresses at the end of the night. They don't know he's seen her naked with glitter in her hair and lipgloss on his abs. They don't know she texts him "can I use your face?" and he replies "I'm already on my way."

They don't know she moans when he calls her "good girl." They don't know she shakes when he holds her down and tells her "one more time, you can do it, baby." They don't know she once cried when he bought her a cherry ice vape after hers died, because he remembered without being asked

Lando thinks it's fucking hilarious.

The way they all joke around him. The way they say shit like:

"She's my Roman Empire."

"I'd let her ruin my career."

"Imagine her calling you baby? I'd fucking collapse."

Max once slapped him on the back and said, "You ever met her, mate? In real life? I'd combust."

Lando just shrugged, grinned, and said, "She seems intense."

Carlos laughed so hard he spilled his drink.

The truth is, Lando likes it like this. He likes that she's untouchable. That the world worships her from behind screens and velvet ropes and locked iPhone albums while he gets the real thing.

While she wakes up wrapped around his chest, lashes tangled, lips swollen. While she straddles him on the Monaco balcony and whispers, "Don't come until I say so." While he groans against her thigh and she tells him, "You make me feel like a slut and a princess all at once."

None of the drivers know that she whimpers when he praises her. That she cries when she comes too hard. That she clutches his hair and begs for more even when her legs are trembling. That he's the only man she's ever let control her completely.

And he's never going to tell them.

Her Instagram is a fucking playground.

They zoom in on her rings. Her tattoos. The little glint of nipple through satin. The stretch of her spine when she's arching in a mirror. They dissect every frame like it's sacred.

"I swear I saw her with Gavi last month. There was a photo-"

"Nah, probably just Jude. They're still close."

"Either way, lucky bastards."

Lando likes those messages too. He saves the screenshots. Shows them to Lily when she's curled on his lap post-runway, vaping and scrolling through memes. She always laughs. Blows cherry smoke in his face and says, "They're such whores."

Then she flips over and fucks him like she's trying to leave bruises where no one can see.

[ye4gerism]

𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑩𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑺 - 𝑱𝑬𝑨𝑵 𝑲𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑰𝑵 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 part one

word count 3.1k

content tags/warnings harassment (briefly) college au, slow burn, awkward situations, coming of age, black reader friendly

author’s note i started writing this when the frat boy eren fanfics were trending briefly last month. i realized in my 4 years of writing on tumblr, i had never written a proper aot college au with dominican connie, best friend sasha/hitch, and frenemy mikasa.

synopsis sophomore d1 lacrosse player jean kirstein gets dumped by gymnast mikasa ackerman. your roommate wants to break you of your shell. what happens when a party hosted by his teammates leads to him asking you to be his girlfriend? part two

"Anonymous" 37m

I heard Mikasa dumped Jean lol

3.7k upvotes

Everyone knew sophomores Jean and Mikasa were the athletic power couple of the University of Paradis. He was a lacrosse player, and she was a gymnast - both at the D1 level. And most importantly, they were both hot. Why that's a prominent factor? Who knows?

Here's something you need to know - Fizzle, the love child between Chirp and Rebbit, and any university student's worst nightmare. God forbid you're caught wearing your most comfortable but uncoordinated outfit - they'll tear you into pieces.

But hey, you're here for school. You keep your head low, you go to your classes, go to club meetings - doing what makes your tuition worth paying.

"Girl, did you see Fizzle? The lacrosse team is throwing tonight!" Hitch was your roommate - heavily involved in sorority life and she loved to party. She was your polar opposite but you loved her as she brought so much life and laughter to college. And free shit (Hitch aspires to be an influencer). She also has a boyfriend, meaning she was gone most weekends - that was the cherry on top.

"The lacrosse team is throwing tonight...? What does that even mean? They aren't a frat," you say matter-of-factly. "And it's a Thursday night. Why would you want to go out?" You were at your desk, finishing up a big project due this weekend - what business did you have at any party?

Hitch, sitting on her bed, rolls her eyes. Her side of the room was spring-themed - a lot of yellows and pastel greens. Her desk was moderately organized - skincare and makeup were left out from this morning. Her bulletin board was decorated with a whiteboard calendar and photos of her boyfriend, Marlo.

Your side was tailored to your taste - your desk was very neat, you opted for a paper calendar and books were your main source of decor.

"Well, nobody has Friday classes like you, weirdo," Hitch teased. You roll your eyes - of course, you were majoring in such a topic that required some extra time.

"Okay listen, the party starts at 10:30 - nobody gets there that early but since with have class, I'll bring you back at 11:30. I'm willing to sacrifice some fun for you!" Hitch offered.

You look at her like she has three heads on her torso and then proceed to laugh. "Absolutely not. I'm not going to a lacrosse party on a Thursday night. What a stupid concept."

"Oh come on! We could get you in some sexy clothes! I know you want to pull from my closet," she baits. You always were curious about what it was like to dress as confidently and freely as Hitch, who showed up to class in tight shorts and tiny tops. It wasn't that you thought she was inappropriate - it was college, so you never put a lot of effort into your look. A simple t-shirt or sweater and a weekly rotation of the same four jeans worked for you.

"You know you want to-"

You give in. "Okay, just this once! But I get back at 11:20."

"Even better: 11:15!"

“Damn girl, you look hawt! Marlo, doesn't she look hot?"

You had stepped out of your shared bathroom with a completely new look - light makeup done by Hitch and a denim mini skirt, cheetah print top, and black platform sandals combo donated by her as well.

Marlo, who has Hitch on his lap, doesn't respond to her question. Hitch is cuddled up against him on her anti-suicide chair. She gives him a pointed look before smiling at you. "You look hot. I don't know why he isn't saying anything but you look hot."

"Maybe because I'm your boyfriend," he says, "But you look good Y/N."

"See how easy that was? Acting all weird..."

You drain Hitch's voice out for a moment and look at yourself in the mirror.

'This skirt is crazy short,' you thought. It brought out curves you had never really taken note of. You didn't look bad. When Hitch had offered to style you, you thought you were taking a class in clownery but no, she actually made you look really good.

"Well, we better get going." Hitch gets off of Marlo's lap. She offers him a hand and he gets up.

"Let's go have you some fun!"

The walk to the Lacrosse was a ten-minute walk. It seemed short on the way there but what about the walk back?

"Hey Hitch," you start curiously. She hums in response. "Are you planning on drinking?"

"Well, we didn't pre-game and it's like, what, your first night out? I gotta keep an eye on you and remember this huge milestone for you," she explains.

"For me?" you question.

"Mhm. We're gonna get some alcohol in that system!" she says too excitedly. Marlo gives her a concerned look.

"We won't make you drink or try anything you don't want to. But we'll keep you safe, that is 100 percent certainty," Marlo reassures. Hitch nods in agreement.

"Yeah, what he said."

You reach the home and there's a line building up. You observe three players up front quizzing desperate guests and either rejecting them or letting them in.

"Is the night over if they don't let us in?" you ask with hope in your voice. This was already way too much.

"Oh, they'll let us in. They'd be crazy not to," Hitch slyly responds.

The line moves ahead and you're finally at the front, giving you a better look at the players guarding the front of the house.

"Floch, Reiner, Porco." Hitch bats her eyes at the teammates and you see Marlo rolling his eyes.

"Hey Hitch." The redhead's tone is a little too excited. He has a devious look on his face as he looks Hitch up and down. "Looking to have some fun?"

"Aren't we all, Floch?" Marlo cuts in. Floch's face drops in annoyance.

"Ignore him. Go get yourself a drink, Marlo," the super duper tall blonde says. You assume he's Reiner. You've seen him around campus a few times.

The teammates move out of the way to let your group in but then they suddenly block your path. Your heart jumps; although you kind of did not want to do this, you also didn't want to be rejected by some athletes.

"And who are you?" This last guy, with his hair pushed back, must be Porco. He takes your body in, his eyes stopping at your hips. He clearly isn't paying attention to you anymore, so you look up at Reiner, waiting to be told to go home.

"She's with us." Marlo clasps a hand on Reiner's shoulder. Porco stops ogling you and moves a bit to let you in. You hear a whispered "damn" as you enter the lacrosse house, at which Marlo grabs your hand. "Fucking dogs," Marlo grumbles.

You're in an awkward position: Marlo's arm over Hitch and his hand gripping yours. You've never been this close to your roommate's boyfriend - you guys don't even talk often. You always took note of him walking down the hallway either in an academic hall or in the commons. Maybe you flashed him a quick smile or even waved, so this was weird.

"Connie!" Hitch wiggles out of Marlo's arm and waves excitedly at her friend. You look in the direction of where she's waving and see a tanned boy with a grey buzzcut. Besides him is a brunette with bangs dressed in a white tube top, black flared leggings, and white cowboy boots. She looks up at the sound of Hitch's voice and immediately runs to her, wrapping her up in a hug the minute she reaches her.

"Hey girlie," the cowboy boots girl greets, "Long time no see."

"Yeah, well," Hitch gestures to Marlo, "He's been keeping me away." She looks over her shoulder at you.

"This is Y/N, my roommate," she introduces.

"Oh, you're the one who doesn't go out!" Cowboy Boots says excitedly. Your stomach feels an automatic pang as your eyes frantically look over at Hitch. She shrugs.

"Well, I'm Sasha. Hitch and I are in SHE sisters," the girl introduces herself.

"She?" you question.

"Sigma Hera Epsilon," Hitch corrects, "You should know this."

"Well, if she's not going out a lot, you can't blame her," another voice says. That Connie guy. He rests his chin on her shoulder. "Nice to finally meet cha, Y/N."

You give him a shy wave. Did these guys think you were some sort of homebody loser?

"Can I have a drink?" you ask no one in particular.

"Let me take you to the kitchen and see if we can get you anything good." Connie offers his hand to you, which you reluctantly take.

You follow him around the house and grow increasingly concerned when you start to realize that the house is even more packed than before. How were you going to find Hitch? This place had music blasting everywhere and knowing her, you probably won't be able to reach her tonight.

You and Connie stop at a dining table. "Okay, all of our juices are here - jungle juice, vodka lemonade. You can mix whatever you want here," he explains. He takes you into the kitchen. "We have all of our box wines here and of course, we have a keg outside. But I have a feeling you might not be into that."

Shit - can he read the anxiety off your face? Connie picks up a solo cup and fills it with white wine. He presents the cup to you. "You look like you need this."

You're hesitant but you take it and sip out of the cup. It's surprisingly sweet and not as bad as you imagined.

"You like?" he asks. You don't give him an answer and it makes the atmosphere between you two awkward. "Ok! You know where everything is if you're up for more."

Connie leaves you alone in the kitchen and you try to calm yourself down. 'Where can I find Hitch?' you think. She'd probably be making out with Marlo or chatting it up with that Sasha girl. Did you want to get in the way of that? You decide to leave the kitchen and work your way through the crowd - maybe you'll run into a classmate. You take nervous sips as you walk deeper into the crowd and you slowly feel like you're losing yourself.

That is until you bump into that redhead from earlier. Floyd? Flint? Something. There's a beat to his steps and by the way he sways, you can tell he's drunk.

He grabs onto your hips, grounding you. "Hey pretty girl," he starts, "Where's your friend?" You don't answer, as you're fixated on figuring out what his name is. You know it, so why isn't it coming to mind?

Your heart picks up.

"You know, I thought Hitch was cute but you're pretty cute too. What's your name?" He pulls you closer to him and he starts to grind. Now you felt like you were going to die. Your first party and someone decided they would get handsy with you.

"Paisley," you lie. His eyebrows raise and he pauses.

"You don't look like a Paisley." He then proceeds to laugh. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. "What's your real name?" The redhead grips you tighter than before making it harder to think of a reasonable name. One of his hands roams elsewhere on your body building up panic in your body. Your eyes frantically scan the room for someone you know.

"Looking for your friend? She-"

You aren't doing to drink this wine. Your arm raises and your wrist flicks in such a way that causes the redhead to be drenched in what was once in your cup. He pushes you away and onto the floor, causing you to knock other people down with you.

"You stupid fucking slut! Are you stupid?" he shrieks. The crowd around you starts to quiet and you begin to feel embarrassed. He was the one acting touchy but he's on the team, so you'd look bad regardless.

"Hey Floch, lay off her."

You look up and see a really tall guy - he has to be on the team. He crouches down to your level and offers you a hand. You observe his muscular arm - oh yeah, he definitely has to be on the team. You take his hand and he helps you up.

"Let's get you out of here," he says. Floch's face is red from embarrassment. It's the last sight you see before your head hangs low. Your hero wraps his arm around your shoulder and escorts you out. Does your roommate care where you are?

"Reiner, 'scuse me,” he says, squeezing past the blond guarding the door.

Oh shit. You're already at the front of the house. How embarrassing. Your first party went to shit.

"What's up, Jean?" Reiner asks. Jean? Like Mikasa Jean? Your head snaps up to get a look at him - you actually didn't even know what he looked like. You were just familiar with that Fizzle post. He's wickedly handsome - so it's either Mikasa missed out or he's insanely evil.

Jean ignores Reiner and walks you to the sidewalk in front of the house. It's less crowded now as everyone who wanted to show up was in the house. You can finally get some fresh air instead of inhaling sweat and alcohol.

"Did you come with anyone?" Jean asks. He removes his arm from your shoulder and places both of his hands in his pockets. It's dark out but the streetlight above the both of you highlights his muscular arms.

"Hitch." Where was she anyway? Was she too far to see what had happened? Would Marlo hook up with her at the lacrosse house? He didn't seem like the type.

"Oh, that bitch? Let me walk you home," he offers.

"Oh, you don't have to! I know the way back," you say sheepishly. You don't like that he called your roommate a bitch so you start to walk away but he grabs your wrist. It spooks you and he immediately lets go.

"Sorry...didn't mean to grab you like that. I can't let you walk alone."

You're silent for a moment. "Listen, I appreciate you but I have a feeling it may not be a good idea. I don't know much about you other than the fact that your ex-girlfriend dumped you and you're on the lacrosse team."

His head cocks back and you scratch the back of your neck apologetically.

"Sorry. Last thing I want is for anyone to make up rumors about you walking me to my room," you reason.

"Can I have your number then? Just to make sure you're safe?" Jean offers. You think for a moment. It wouldn't be a bad idea, since the people you came with abandoned you and left you vulnerable.

You whip up your phone and begin to recite your number.

"Awesome, perfect. And what's your name? I assume you know mine." He smiles wide.

"It's Y/N," you say softly.

"Y/N," he repeats softly. You stare at each other for a moment before he breaks eye contact to press the green button on his phone. Your phone rings and you pick up.

"Get home safe," Jean says. You turn on your foot and start your journey back home.

The walk home was peaceful, which was a weird thing for you to even think as the past hour was anything but. You have Jean on speaker and you can hear the rustle of his pants.

"So..." His voice startles you. "What's your major?"

"Public Relations," you answer, "You?"

"Fine Arts and Political Science."

Your eyes widen. "You're actually here to learn?" you joke.

Luckily it lands as you hear him chuckling. Unfortunately, you do have to cut him off as you're already at your residence hall. "Well, I'm about to tap in. Thanks for saving me back there," you say.

"Any time, Y/N. Have a good night." He hangs up immediately and you take this as a sign to move on.

You make it back to your room and decide to wash off the smell of alcohol and sweat. You take off Hitch's clothes, fold them neatly, and place them on her bed.

You step into the shower and turn the heat up midway.

"What a weird night," you mutter to yourself.

You're better off sticking to your books.

When you woke up for class the next morning, you found Hitch sprawled out in her bed, still in her clothes from the night prior. You had a feeling she'd still be knocked out from last night and maybe she'd be gone the minute you got out of class. You didn't want to talk about last night with her. She completely went against her word.

You reach the dining hall and settle down in a booth. You hide your face in your hands and groan. Some coffee should do you some good. Before you get up, Marlo approaches your table with a plate. You scowl at him.

"Okay, hey, I'm sorry. Hitch is a little bit more accident-prone than you are. If anyone's going to hurt themselves, it's her." Marlo places the plate on the table.

Marlo's face loses its color. "What?" You purse your lips and nod.

"Yep. I'll never go out with either of you again," you promise.

"Ok, Y/N wait-"

"Y/N!" You turn your head. Jean. He's walking towards you with his tray of dirty dishes. What on earth could he possibly want from you?

"Glad to see you got back in one piece," he greets. He has really pretty eyes - a nice mixture of green and brown.

Before you have a chance to respond, he keeps talking. "Mind if I ask you a quick question?" He stops to acknowledge Marlo. "Private convo, buddy. Mind giving us some space?"

Marlo looks between you and Jean, slightly offended. He picks up his place and walks elsewhere.

Jean looks right, then left before looking you in the eye and lowering his voice. "Hey so, you know how I got broken up with? I need a rebound. No one knows you and you seem like a pretty nice person. Wanna pretend to be girlfriend until I get drafted?"

"Anonymous" 6hr

LMAOOOO WHO WAS THAT GIRL WHO THREW A DRINK AT FLOCH???

1.3k upvotes

[pearlzier]

⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🐾 ★

pairing : carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary : carm is fucking flabbergasted to hear you've never had a proper valentine's day, let alone a special meal. so he has to rectify it as soon as possible.

word count : 2.28k

tags: the bear, jeremy allen white, fluff, valentine's day, carmen berzatto, carmy berzatto, established relationship, awkward carm <3, BEST MAN EVER.

a/n: got this idea from @aliaugustaa, i thought it was so cute so i just had to do it :3 who needs an irl valentines when u have ur little chef man, making sure u know u deserve the best amiright.

it all started when carmen had overheard you, syd and tina talking. he'd been in his office, trying to get some work done with the door slightly ajar, considering the air conditioning in the room was shit, when the three of you had struck up a conversation. he hadn't paid much attention to it. he occasionally tuned into the sound of your voice, of course, but the details of the words you were saying remained mostly lost on him.

until he heard the mention of ‘valentine's day’ come from tina. fuck. if he had to be honest, it'd been years since he'd last.. celebrated? valentine's day? before you, he didn't actually have any reason to do anything for it. carmen avoided the day like the plague, actually, with the bare minimum being done in terms of heart themed menu times. but even he knew that you would've been expecting a valentine's gift from him, right? you two had been dating for what, nearly a year now, so he had to think of something.

that started his panic in terms of what he was going to get you. he had no fucking clue. but what took him out even more was your words, as you leant against the counter with your notepad: “valentine's day is so overrated,” okay.. “i haven't had a valentine since i was like, fifteen, and i'm perfectly fine.”

perfectly fine.

his blue eyes darted quickly to the calendar on his desk, fixing onto ‘february 14th’ almost instantly. he can't bite back a smile at the heart you'd drawn around the date, with ‘v-day’ scrawled messily on it. but all the cuteness aside, he had.. one week. he didn't need to do anything amazing for you, no, considering you did think the holiday was overrated, however he felt there was an unsworn duty for him to prove to you that you were special, and deserved the best.

he sorted the week that he had left into phases. there were four phases, all of them intricately, messily, planned to ensure you'd have a great day. and he'd managed to do all of it right under your nose.

of the four phases, first came the easiest one. slowly easing you into the idea of valentine's day. you weren't stupid, no, you were quiet observant and god knows you would've picked up on any new behaviours from your boyfriend, so he had to try to integrate the day of love into work first.

convincing everyone to mention valentine's day, not obsessively, but repetitively to try get it into your routine wasn't difficult. it was a restaurant, for god's sake, of course they'd have some sort of valentine's menu, right?

so he got marcus to start making some particularly love themed desserts — “uh, sure. don't mind it.” you hadn't seemed to pay much attention to the ginormous order of cupid stickers out back, which worked heavily in his favour.

“yo, cousin, don't worry. she'll be walkin’ ‘round with the whole ass arrow by the time i'm done,” — richie was just as eager to get you in a lovey-dovey mood, with his passing comments about how eva was a total bachelorette and that all the kids in her class were gonna be throwing presents onto her desk.

there was no way to tell whether that was true or not. no one really asked.

“hey, cool, i'm feeling it,” — tina was also happy to help, being overly lovey with you around the restaurant. it was quite unlike her, but still, you didn't mind the affection. little hugs, forehead kisses from dear aunt tina weren't that bad.

“she's gonna realise that we're going overboard,” — syd was the most reluctant. she'd have much rather told you about what they were doing, as opposed to keeping it a secret. however carm was good at convincing her, and it was for a good cause too. so, she let it slide, pushing the valentine's agenda with little doodles of cupids or hearts on her menu designs. you liked them.

so that was phase one done. pretty simple, if carmy says so himself. and you didn't mention anything about it. perfect. he felt a little weird keeping something from you, but, of course, it was a good cause, right?

with phase one completed, he had to move onto phase two. this one was probably his second favourite of all of them. bringing valentine's into the house. valentine's day was all about love. he loves you, of course. it was the reason why he was doing all of this in the first place. so he thought the best way to do this phase was to get you in the mood.

you were very clearly confused by the romcom that was playing on the tv screen when he ushered you into the living room, but you didn't ask many questions considering how tired you were. “carm,” you began, brow furrowing, before you shrugged, moving over to settle on the couch. tilting your head over to the direction of the kitchen, your eyes found carmy bringing over the chinese takeout. it'd been a while since you two had indulged in it, but he knew full well it was your favourite. “you're the best,” his smug little smile told you a lot, but not about his little scheme and its phases.

“i know, babe,” he hums, bringing over the tray and settling it onto the coffee table. carmen shuffled over, settling onto the couch beside you, gently lifting your box onto your lap before he took his own. it wasn't unlike him to take care of you like this, but there was something more tender in how he was helping you. sweet, yes, but it was making you a tad bit suspicious. “you okay?” he asked softly, voice gentle and low, as a small little smile played on his lips.

“mhm,” you nodded, just snuggling beside him with the takeout box in your grasp. you two usually didn't watch romcoms, usually finding a good drama or sitcom however you didn't mind it. this one in particular was quite good.

and besides, carmen having his arm slung around your waist as you two ate was a perfect feeling. so despite your suspicions, you let him have this moment without asking him.

that was phase two done. not too shabby, really. richie and, actually, literally everyone in the bear was a tad bit sick of carmen's rambling about how amazing you were. they literally all knew it, since you were their colleague, but god, could this man talk.

the third phase was one that carmy realised perhaps should've come earlier. it was just getting you things that you liked, without you realising. which was harder than it sounded, considering carmen was shit at keeping things from you, and you were usually the one who looked at orders to the apartment. so he needed the help of his sister, natalie. she was so eager to help that it was a little overwhelming. “so what do they like anyway?” natalie asked as she pushed the cart beside carmen, eyes flickering over to his in curiosity. “bear?”

he was uh, stressing. he loved you so much, and—well, “god, sugar, i love her—” he ran a hand through his curls, eyes widening as soon as he saw the giant valentine's day display in the store. a quiet groan slipped past his lips and he bit his knuckles for a moment, glancing desperately over at his sister. “peach deserves the fuckin’ world, y'know? just wan’ make it special for her,” the pity, and adoration, in natalie's gaze softened her eyes immediately and she gave him a quick pat on the back.

“right,” it was her personal mission now to ensure that you and her brother had a perfect day on valentine's. she was sure of it. a small little grin played on her lips as she ushered him over to the display, and she leant against the cart. “okay, what would she like? something lovey? sentimental?”

“don't fuckin’ know,” carmen muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple as he looked over the many valentine's themed things available. holy shit, this was harder than he thought. he knew you so well and yet, what you'd like evaded him.

“okay, well,” natalie picks up a random white teddy bear, brows raising in question as she offers it to her brother. he grabs at it, squeezes it perhaps a little too hard out of frustration but slowly relaxes his tight grip on it. “okay, that one's going in.”

the shopping trip continued like this, with natalie suggesting things that she thought you might like, with carmy giving his wordless responses. it was kind of therapeutic for nat, to be fair. and carmen was getting the stuff he needed for you. he'd have to thank natalie after, considering soon after he was done with phase three, he was into the final phase. the actual valentine's gift.

this was probably his favourite part. of course, carmen was a chef by nature. so he knew a valentine's dinner was in order. he was sort of sick of hearing anything related to the saint, however he could relax with this part. he'd made sure that syd would keep you out of the apartment for at least three hours. having even gone to the lengths of giving money for you guys to spend, he was clearly working hard. he knew your palette, so well in fact, that he didn't even think twice about what he was preparing.

from what you loved to eat, to what you despised, carmen knew it all. and he wanted to spoil you in terms of what he made, so he also gave sydney strict instructions that the two of you weren't allowed to get any food. hey, he wanted you to have enough room to eat.

he'd planned everything immaculately, of course, but when he heard you and syd at the door, he almost panicked. the table was laid out perfectly, all of your favourite foods available. a flush filled his cheeks at the thoughts of richie's previous words: “shit, cousin’, you a fuckin’ simp,” rang through his head and he scratched the back of his neck nervously, sitting at the table.

“thanks, syd,” your voice called from down the hall at the door, your smile evident in your voice. it made the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and he shifted where he sat. “m'back, carm!” you were making your way down the hall now, nearing the living room where you assumed he'd be. he was not. “carm—?”

your brow furrowed, since he'd have mentioned he'd be out if he was going to be. “carm,” you hummed as you wandered into the dining room area, not looking into the room until you did, and your lips parted into an expression of shock. “holy shit.”

you're surprised you didn't burst into literal tears seeing carmen sat at the table, wide blue eyes lifting to yours from the table cloth. his cheeks were rosey, a sheepish expression adorning his lips. “fuck, this is dumb,” he got up, scratching the back of his neck once more, “i know you don't—oh, shit, peach—”

his eyes widened as you barelled into him, wrapping your arms around his frame as his hands slid over your lower back. biting his bottom lip, he lifted a hand to your face, just to see your expression. “oh my god, carm,” tears threatened to spill from your eyes, bottom lip trembling. carmen's expression only softener, and grew a tad bit guilty.

“oh, no, baby, don't cry,” his thumb stroked over your jaw, brow furrowing. carmen soon pressed a peck to your forehead, his hand cupping your lower back and bringing you into his body. “can't eat ‘n’ cry at the same time,” he soothed with a soft chuckle whilst he cradled the back of your head.

“so this is what you were doin’?” your mumbly words come all soft, watery, glossy eyes lifting up to his as you frown. you may be about to cry, sure, but it's for a good reason. “all this time? oh my god, is it because of what i said to syd and tina?”

a sheepish nod followed, his hands brushing away your tears gently. he smiled, nuzzling your nose with his own as he brushed his lips with yours, squeezing you tight against his chest. “uh-huh,” he muttered, “didn't notice earlier?”

“nuh-uh,” god, you felt kinda dumb for not realising. but also glad you didn't, since you wouldn't be as overjoyed as you are right now. you squeeze tight around his waist once more before you drag him back into sitting down. hey, you were hungry considering his little scheme. “god, carm,” you bite your bottom lip, looking over all the food. not to mention the valentine's themes decorations.

“so everyone was in on it?” you lean against the table, watching as carmen dished out your plate for you, his blue eyes lingering on the food before they lifted to yours when he heard your question. he gives a little nod, pushing your plate towards you. then, he pours you a glass of wine, all smiles. “god, that's why—oh my god!”

giddy, absolutely giddy, would describe you right now. over the fucking moon.

“and when you and nat went out? you guys never go out, holy shit,” you grabbed your fork, leaning against the table with a little smile. that smile soon became the biggest grin he'd ever seen. “babe, this is too much,” you frowned, gaze all fond.

“wait till you see the gifts,” he mumbled around a spoonful of pasta, avoiding your gaze and focusing on his plate.

“carmen!”

[petals2fishfanfics]

“You were just complaining that we were going to be late to class,” James joked. “Now you’re taking pictures?”

Lily was slightly flushed as she lowered the camera and gave him the widest grin. “I don’t think one picture will take longer than your morning routine.”

“My morning routine would go faster if you’d stop stealing my clothes.” He dropped his soap to tug his tie from her red hair. “Why are you taking a photo anyways?”

Lily snapped another photo pointedly sticking her tongue out at him via the mirror. “Can’t your girlfriend be sentimental about graduating in a few weeks?”

“Just admit you wanted a photo of me without my shirt on.” James said, “You know, to put on your wall calendar.”

“Mmm, yes,” she mused, “this one is obviously for May.”

“What’s the theme?” James asked as he tossed his tie back to the tile floor for after he found his white shirt that Lily had discarded on purpose that morning.

“Shirtless James Potter May.” She quipped in a sing-song voice.

“Do I get a theme for each month?” He raised a brow at her, amused.

She placed a finger on her chin as if she’d considered it. “Well, I’ve got a reindeer costume for you to try on for December and sequined underwear for New Years…”

He laughed out loud. James dropped his shaver in the sink. When he grabbed her around the waist and spun her around she joined in with his laughter, before James promptly dropped a kiss to Lily’s lips. They didn’t make it to class. In fact, they didn’t even make it out the door of the Head Girl’s bathroom.

On A03

[bardic-tales]

5.How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst? (Because I love Professor AUs lol)

11.What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to your oc?  Do they still feel ashamed for it? Were there any witnesses?

Hope you have fun with these asks!!

Thank you so much for the ask. I hope you are having a wonderful day. Professor Aus are life! lol. I think that was the first AU I made in '99? All I remember is that Sephiroth was a math teacher. It's one of those 'hot for teacher' fics. lol. And it is in the boxes in storage with all the original notebooks for the stuff I wrote in '97 to 00. 😂

"Souls do not have calendars or clocks. They do not understand the notion of time or distance. They only know how it feels right to be with one another. This is the reason why I miss you so much when you are not here: the other half of me is missing." - Bianca Moore

I was wrestling which OC I should answer for this, but in the end, I choose Bianca. Bianca Moore is the protagonist of Fantasy Worlds Collide (FWC). She goes from the expectant hero to the irredeemable villain, as her story mirrors Sephiroth's in a way.

The following answers are from her FF 7 FWC character arc. This is a celestial who has fallen and accepted her destiny as a 'Priestess of Jenova' and an 'Angel of Vengeance': or that's what she calls it.

How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

Content Warnings: PTSD, trauma, medical trauma, vivisection, dissection, surgical procedures, genetic modification, psychological distress, panic attacks, dissociation, emotional shutdown.

Bianca as a teacher would be complicated. She wouldn't have the patience for students who don't grasp what she is teaching. She would be one of those teacher's who runs their classes strictly. That said, if a student did show promise, she would encourage them to refine their abilities and knowledge.

She's be best at teaching literature, specifically romantic and tragic themes in storytelling, giving her career as a published novelist and her deep understanding with themes like love, obsession, and how love sometimes destroys a person.

The absolute worst subject for her would be science, specifically biology or anything medical-related. Due to her trauma with Professor Hojo and Ravenclaw's experiments, being around medical equipment or discussing anatomy in a clinical way would trigger her PTSD. Any mentions of dissection (especially having to teach it), vivisection, surgical procedures, or genetic modifications would either send her into a rage or make her shut down completely.

If she was forced to teach a science course, her reactions would very. The most extreme reaction would be she'd freeze, start to sweat, and curl into a ball against a wall, trying to protect herself. She might start to talk and plead for her safety as if Hojo and Diana were there. The lesser reaction would be she'd either walk out mid-lecture or start giving the students ominous warnings about the horrors of experimentation.

What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to your oc? Do they still feel ashamed for it? Were there any witnesses?

Content Warning: Body horror, existential horror, surreal imagery, mild dissociation, humor involving bodily disfigurement, mild teasing/bullying dynamics, references to past trauma, reference to FFVII’s Nibelheim Incident.

There are many incidents Bianca would want to erase from existence, but one particular moment in the North Crater stands out. It's absurd. After the Nibelheim Incident and before 0007, Bianca was helping Sephiroth to perfect how to manifest in the clones. For this, they used SC-X, the Sephiroth Clone that Sephiroth had assigned to see to Bianca's needs in the North Crater. The process was slow, and Sephiroth's form kept flickering between states. Sometimes, he would have his head but SC-X's body. Other times, it was vice versa. There were times when he would be solid, sometimes spectral, and other times just a floating, ominous eyeball in a mist of black smoke since the manifestation went wrong. Those were the times he refused to answer her questions. He can be really frustrating at times.

One day, she was kneeling beside the mako pool and he thought it was a good time to 'surprise' her with how much control he had over SC-X. She felt his presence strengthen behind her. Turning, she was greeted with what should have been his moment of truimph: successfully controlling SC-X and manifesting correctly: except his body wasn't fully there.

His usual imposing presence was undercut by the fact that only his upper half had properly materialized from the Lifestream, leaving him floating awkwardly in the air, shirtless, with his long, silver hair. Unfortunately, his lower half wasn't quite there. Inside of his usual leather-clad legs and lower torso, there was just a mass of mist swirling with purple lines where his legs should be, making him look like a bizarre ghost which was caught mid-loading screen, like those early porn pics when people were waiting for images to load.

most likely no-legged Sephiroth and his expression^

Poor Bia and her histrionic tendencies. Despite herself, she burst into laughter. I think anyone would really. She tried to stop -- swear that she did. But after days of watching the crater and making sure no one disturbed their space or his reforming body, the sheer absurdity of seeing this fearsome, godlike Sephiroth hovering like a half-finished render was too much for her. The jokes. Oh the jokes. 'You look like a cursed desktop icon with just your torso', 'No. You're a malevolent JPG', 'A Sephiroth.exe that just won't load properly', 'Should we wait until you finish loading?' She shouldn't have done the next thing really. She attempted to reach out and poke where his legs should have been. Her hand only passed through it.

Sephiroth was not pleased. He was determined to show her, so like a stubborn fool, he stayed in that form for hours, giving her the silent treatment. She poked at the air below his torso again, which was met with a 'when I regain full control, you're gonna to regret this, Bia'.

Even now, even with Creation destroyed and remade long after the events of FF VII, she still teases him about the time when he was just a hovering torso and some mist. It remains one of the few moments where she had the upper hand over him, and how she still relishes in it. But she kind of wished she never had to see Sephiroth as a torso or how funny it was, seeing his damage body after his fall into it at Nibel Reactor (Last Order: FFVII) was enough.

For the Redemption!AU (Which I love to write about)

Content Warnings: Embarrassment, social anxiety, mild teasing, stubbornness, implied romantic tension, sparring-related exhaustion

One of Bianca’s most embarrassing moments happened early in her relationship with Sephiroth. After an intense sparring session, she was exhausted but too stubborn to admit she needed rest when Seph called her out. She wanted to impress Sephiroth with her endurance, so she kept pushing herself and pushing herself in their sparring: only to suddenly pass out face-first into his chest mid-sentence.

When she woke up, Sephiroth had caught her and was holding her effortlessly, staring down at her with his usual unreadable expression. Instead of saying anything, he simply quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Are you done saying you're not tired?"

She immediately bolted upright, trying to act like nothing happened, but she was so mortified that she avoided eye contact with him for the next hour. To this day, Sephiroth occasionally brings it up just to watch her scowl. She claims she isn’t ashamed of it, but if anyone else were to mention it, she’d probably threaten to skewer them with Noctemaris.

The witnesses? Sephiroth, of course. But unfortunately, in this AU Angeal was brought back with Bianca's magic and Genesis is part of their former SOLDIER faction. Both Genesis and Angeal had walked in right after she face-planted into Sephiroth's chest. Gen smirked and called them love-struck fools. Angeal said nothing but shook his head, as he knew how stubborn Bia is from training with her, himself. Bianca wanted to die right then and there.

From the 'OC Development Question' ask game here

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @whatwedointhecraft @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions

[orangepanic]

Asami surprises Iroh II by making some modifications to his battleship.

Sorry I sat on this prompt for mumble mumble time. Here you go!

Asami wasn't usually nervous around clients. If anything, the client side of running Future Industries had been one of the easiest to learn. Much better than labor management or accounting, for example. Asami had always liked people and had enough of a head for the engineering that she was confident she could answer their questions. Every sale felt like winning a game. The few she didn't get only helped her improve.

Today's client didn't feel like a game.

"Ready when you are, Miss Sato," said General Iroh. He inclined his head towards the rolling door of the warehouse. Sunlight flashed off the tops of the medals on his breast. In fact, all of him seemed bathed in morning sunlight as if he'd gathered it to him like an aura. His gold eyes were pools of it. White teeth sparkling. Even his dark hair shone, the oiled highlights glittering like chrome on a brand new satomobile.

"Miss Sato?"

Asami cleared her throat. "Yes, of course. Right this way." She turned and fumbled the button that, on the third try, started rolling up the door. Focus, she thought. Focus, focus. But Asami couldn't focus. Not when the most attractive man she'd ever seen in her life was only four feet behind her. The door jangled to a stop and she felt General Iroh move closer. A disturbance in the air behind her.

"What am I looking at?" he asked. She swore she could smell the mint on his breath. Exactly how close was he?

"A ship," she blurted.

Iroh chuckled. "I can tell it's a ship. I'm not that poor of an engineer. Let me rephrase: why am I looking at the front quarter of a Republic II class battleship inside of a warehouse on land?"

Asami steadied herself and turned to face him. The general wasn't as close as she'd thought - hoped? - and instead was eyeing the battleship with furrowed brows from a respectful distance. Had she imagined the mint then? She'd imagined a lot when it came to General Iroh, most of it at night or in the shower, but smells had never been part of it before. I wonder if he'll be minty in my dreams tonight? she thought.

"It's only a mockup," she said aloud. "That's one step removed from even a full prototype. I wanted to show you - the United Forces, I mean - the idea to gauge interest before I invested any more in it."

"Understandable," said Iroh. He quirked an eyebrow expectantly, the edge of his mouth curling into the cutest of crooked smiles. Asami's heart skipped a beat. "Well?" he asked.

"Well... oh!" Asami whirled to keep him from seeing the horrible flush that crept up her neck and walked towards the ship. "Yes, well, what we did here was salvage one of the vessels from Yue Bay, which as you know was a Republic II class that was penetrated by both naval mines and torpedos. Using that as a starting point, our design team got to work on what we thought a Republic III class could do to harden the target against similar weapons."

Asami continued on in that vein, slowly warming to her theme as she showed General Iroh the thick double-hulled design and various other improvements. The general asked dozens of questions, most of them very good ones and each of which she was pleased to have an answer to. By the end of the tour he was beaming. Maybe this could be like any other client meeting, Asami thought. Just because Iroh looked like a calendar model in a sexy uniform didn't have to mean she fell all to pieces. She was a professional. She could handle it.

"Incredible, Miss Sato," he said once they were back outside in the warm sunshine. "Utterly brilliant. Ships like these could revolutionize the Forces. I hope you understand that I can't make the decision to invest alone but I plan to recommend a thorough review of the options."

Asami grinned. "You're very welcome. It's the least Future Industries could do, considering."

Iroh bowed. "I appreciate having a Sato on our side."

"Any time."

He looked down at her then, his expression sobering. "I do have one more question," he asked.

"Which is?"

"I've made it clear that the decision to buy from Future Industries is based on a committee to which I can make recommendations but not decisions, yes?"

Asami paused, uncertain what that meant. "Yes, more or less. You just said that."

Iroh nodded, his posture suddenly stiff. "Right. So. So I did."

"Yes?" Asami was now more confused than ever. "Did you have another question then, General?" she prodded. "Was it about the process?"

His throat bobbed up and down. "Er, no," he said. "I only wanted to make it clear that, if I were to ask you to have dinner with me, your answer would have no bearing on United Forces procurement. One way or the other."

She let that sink in. "If?"

"Yes."

"General, are you asking me on a date?"

He nodded again, his strong shoulders straightening. "Yes. Yes, I am."

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Dionysian Festivals in History

You'll never believe who procrastinated on their thesis by writing this. (It definitely wasn't me, if anyone's asking.)

One of the more common difficulties that comes with being a Hellenic Polytheist (or, really, any follower of a pre-Christian religion) is a lack of knowledge about how certain festivals were practiced. This problem is especially true in the worship of Dionysos, where many of the practices were unwritten about, due to either common societal knowledge of them, or a more mysterious aspect to them.

I'm going to go over a crash course of historical festivals to Dionysos (using @thegrapeandthefig's Attic Calendar, as is usual), and explain what each festival is, and how it would have been celebrated historically.

We start off at the start of the Gregorian calendar year with Lenaia. This year, it took place from the 22nd to the 29th of January, which translates to the Attic calendar as the 12th to the 19th of Gamelion. There isn't too much information known about what the festival specifically entails, although there are some hints about it on what are known as Lenaia vases. The vases show scenes related to Lenaia and Anthesteria, but scholars are able to differentiate it by looking at what is depicted on the vase (if it's wine, it's Lenaia). Obviously, the drinking of wine was a pretty important part of the festival, as Dionysos' epithet "Lenaios" means "he of the wine-press". There may also have been elements relating to Dionysos' infancy.

The beautiful thing about Lenaia is that it was so vaguely celebrated, historically speaking. There was wine, and perhaps some plays put on, but other than that, a lot of the festival can be left up to the practitioner.

After Lenaia comes Anthesteria, falling this year on February 20th to the 22nd (Anthesterion 11th-13th), and about which there are a good number of resources. This festival was supposed to be* a springtime festival, which was separated into three days: Pithoigia, Choes, and Chytroi, which can be translated as "Jar Opening", "Jugs", and "Pots". It is strange that Anthesteria covers so many themes - new wine, love, and, at the end, death. However, the article Athens' Festival of the New Wine, by Noel Robertson, offers some important insights on this. It seems that the festival commemorated the myth of Icarius and Erigone, which, for the sake of space (and my own time), I'll link to here: Britannica - Erigone. In short, this festival follows their gift of wine, the drinking of this new wine among the mortals, and Icarius and Erigone's deaths at the hands of shepherds, who did not understand the gift they had been given.

Pithoigia: As the translated name suggests, this is the day of the opening of the wine casks which, up until that moment, had been *fermenting throughout the year. From these casks, the Athenians would libate the first wines out to Dionysos. This was also a day where wine was enjoyed by all, not just by Dionysos - Robertson mentions that in ancient Athens, this was the day during which the wine was mixed.

Choes: Choes is day two, which is the day of Jugs. For lack of a better word, this was the most boisterous day of the entire three-day experience. People of all ages and social classes engaged in wine-drinking contests, while in secret, rites were performed in which the wife of the current king was married to Dionysos. There *was also a tradition in which public shrines were roped off, although this seems to be related to the story of Orestes, who was considered to be an unclean man. Strangely enough, despite the boisterous and celebratory connotations of the day, it was also considered to be an unlucky day.

Chytroi: This third day of Anthesteria likely commemorated the deaths of the two followers of Dionysos who were given the gift of wine-making from Him: Icarius and Erigone. Icarius was killed by shepherds, who believed him to be poisoning them, and Erigone killed herself after finding her dead father. This is where the (with *context, somewhat grim) tradition of swinging at the Anthesteria comes from. This was also the day in which the wine was ritually mixed. This, from what I can gather, means that the wine wasn't necessarily mixed for use among mortals, but rather mixed and consecrated to Dionysos Himself.

Ultimately, Anthesteria is an incredibly complex festival, and I've barely scraped the surface on it in this post. The days are a bit mobile in celebratory orders as well, as it seems that many of the fine points of the festival can be moved around.

The next festival we encounter in the Athenian calendar is the City Dionysia, or Greater Dionysia. This year it falls on March 19th-25th (Elaphebolion 11th-16th). Thankfully, this celebration is one with a lot less ambiguity about its traditions, mainly because it's turned out a lot of things which have stuck around in the world, and remain to this day, such as the Greek plays. In short, this was a large festival which took place in Athens, and involved the production and showing of multiple comedies, dramas, and satyr plays. As the patron of the theater, obviously Dionysos' name was attached to it.

Beyond the theatrical aspect of it, many sources show that Dionysian processions were a pretty big part of the historical celebrations. To be perfectly honest, my view on it is almost like a weeklong Dionysian Mardi Gras.

From here, we have a massive jump of almost half a year to the next festival, which is Kybernesia. This year, it takes place on September 10th, or Boedromion 8th. I have my own hot takes on this long span in which there are no Dionysian festivals, but that's going to wait until another post in which I can truly unleash my full opinions upon the world.

The Kybernesia is celebrated in the modern day as a Dionysian festival, but in all the academic sources I found, it is listed as an Athenian naval festival. One source says that it linked to Theseus after he sailed from Crete, which would maybe explain the potential Dionysian connection, as it was on this journey from Crete to Athens that Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the shores of Naxos. However, if anyone else has a more in-depth source on a Dionysian connection to the Kybernesia, I'd be really happy to see it!

At some point during the month of December was held the Rural Dionysia, which is similar to the City Dionysia, but just... more rural, more rustic, perhaps a bit more rowdy. Its celebration was determined by various local governments, so there's a lot of flexibility on when it can be celebrated. According to @thegrapeandthefig's calendar, "Popular choices [for celebration] include the 7th, 8th, 11th, or 14th."

This is where the current list of Dionysian festivals on the Attic calendar ends. However, it's definitely not the end of celebrated Dionysian festivals in general. There were plenty more outside of Athens which don't have as many resources on their historical celebrations (Lampteria being one). I might go over these festivals in some other post, but for now, y'all get the Athenian calendar!

*supposed to be in spring refers to the fact that, for most folks living in the northern regions of the Northern Hemisphere, it's almost definitely still winter when the Anthesteria rolls around.

Sources:

Lenaia:

Wikipedia - Lenaia

Sarah Pierce - Visual Language and Concepts of Cults on the "Lenaia Vases"

Anthesteria:

Britannica - Anthesteria

Noel Robertson - Athens' Festival of the New Wine

William Nickerson Bates - The Lenaea, The Anthesteria, and the Temple [Limnais]

B. C. Dietrich - A Rite of Swinging During the Anthesteria

City/Greater Dionysia:

Britannica - Great Dionysia

Kybernesia:

Valerij Goušchin - Athenian Synoikism of the Fifth Century B.C., or Two Stories of Theseus

Stephen D. Lambert - Parerga III: The Genesia, Basile and Epops Again (just a note: if you read through these resources, the information on Kybernesia is hidden in the footnotes or only mentioned once in the text.)

Rural Dionysia:

Leonhard Shmitz - Dionysia

Credits:

Thanks to @just-another-dionysus-devotee for suggesting this as a topic! It was really fun to research this topic!

And the divider design in this post is from @cafekitsune

[beetheyapper]

40 Instances of Chaotic Academia in My First Semester of College (YAY!)

I've had this cooking for months now, so I hope it's somewhat enjoyable. If you don't think these things are chaotic academia, I would like to firstly make it clear that I am a student at a university pursuing a degree in English, so everything I do at school is kind of inherently academic. Some of these, though, I admittedly am just sharing because I find them funny or ironic. Yay for entertainment!

This list spans my entire first semester of college, so it is quite extensive and I've hidden it with the cut. If you decide to look through, I hope you can get a giggle out of my agony. Thank you for your time <3

Chatting eagerly with my creative writing professor as she moved to the next class she had to teach—she was probably slightly annoyed by my presence, but willing to humor me as we climbed down flights of stairs—about my desire to be a writer and professor like she is. I want her job. I want it badly.

Hanging out and studying on the Quad (a plaza of sorts in front of the campus's main library) and getting acorns THROWN AT ME by a squirrel

Writing an entire essay as I was attacked by the aforementioned squirrel. The style of essay was inspired by Ross Gay's novel, The Book of Delights, which I read for my creative writing class, and yes, the squirrel was discussed.

Reading a passage from my American Literature homework aloud to my roommate to see if maybe she could grasp what the fuck it was saying. I gave up on this reading after pouring over it for about twenty minutes with only the slightest comprehension. (I hate the puritans)

Entertaining myself after my roommate has gone to sleep by watching video essays

On that topic, finding a video essay that I wholeheartedly disagreed with, and was moderately peeved by, and still watching it until the end.

Cutting up an old Van Gogh-themed calendar and using the images as wall decor.

Hanging a poster print of The Kiss by Klimt on one wall in our living room, and across from it is an awful drawing I made of "Micarus."*

This one is kind of just chaotic and sacralige, but the magnet hanging on our fridge of what appears to be an ai-generated (I know, I know. It was in Five Below, okay?) image of Jesus dunking a basketball. On it are the words: "He Is Rizzen"

My inability to refrain from writing the most attrocious run-on sentences

Having about 15 tabs open at all times on my laptop. It's astonishing that it hasn't crashed on me yet (someone knock on wood for me please—none of the wood in my dorm is real)

Joining the only student-run publishing press in the country in prose & poetry editing and acquisitions. IM HAVING SO MUCH FUN.

Having friends over for my 19th birthday and making them play Clue because it’s my favorite board game. Then, after everyone went home, going to the club with my older sister just to dance

Spending all of my dining dollars on coffees and teas to sip on and get me through study sessions/morning classes

Writing an essay at a football game because I’ll be damned if I miss it but I’ll be even more damned if I fail a class

Going to the library to study only to get absolutely nothing done because I accidentally spent the entire time rambling

Cranking out a wonderfully-written, two-page essay in an hour the day it's due only to FAIL because I accidentally submitted it as a .docx instead of a .pdf and my professor took FIFTY PERCENT OFF for that.

Going out to coffee with my American Literature professor because not only is it an extra credit opportunity in the class I bombed the essay for, but also just because I want to talk about literature

Watching an entire video essay breaking down "Nature" by Emerson as I do my makeup before class

Acting like a victorian child dying of the plague because I got an upper respiratory infection that lasted like two and a half weeks.

Using one of the shelves in my closet to hold my books because I unfortunately do not have an actual bookshelf

Having four seperate items related to Edgar Allen Poe. I love that sad freaky man

Having Daisy Jones and the Six in between The Picture of Dorian Gray and Pride and Prejudice on the aforementioned “shelf”

Getting myself a journal from a local bookstore that looks like a fancy hardcover edition of The Great Gatsby

Stressing over my American Lit midterm and studying with two friends for it at a local coffee shop for like six hours.

Having to make a dramatic video inspired by a verse of “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman. I made it the day it was due 🙂‍↕️

Going the ENTIRE semester without my glasses because I couldn’t find them, then finding them my first day home for winter break.

Going out to the gay bar with my friend, sleeping over at her dorm, and then binge-watching the entire Hobbit trilogy the next day as we analyzed all of the differences between the films and book

Attending a “gala” on a whim, not realizing it was being hosted by the local ballroom dancing group. i showed up tipsy and overdressed

Constantly complaining about the architecture of the buildings on campus because there’s one that looks really cool and has a lot of intricate architectural elements, and then the rest are mediocre

repeatedly visiting the oldest building on campus (which has been turned into a museum) not only for the history and aesthetics of it, but also partially just to hold the sword

changing my autocorrect settings so that my acronyms turn into (roughly) shakespearean english. (example: “omg” becomes “O, by mine own holy grace!”) i did this for no reason other than I Thought It Would Be Funny. my actions plague me to this day.

repeatedly pondering changing my minors (so far I have gone world lit -> creative writng -> creative writing + latin -> creative writing + world lit)

making tomb stone decorations for halloween of famous gothic/horror authors

a continuation of the previous one, accidentally writing "Bram Stroker" instead of Bram Stoker. who stroking they bram rn

sitting in a coffee shop and writing fanfiction that I will never publish on ao3 purely for my own enjoyment. i should have been studying

talking to random french people** about literature and poetry even though i was supposed to be talking about something else

trying various new coffee shops around town because i'm a freshman and i'm trying to find the spot

telling myself i was going to set aside an hour every day to read (in an attempt to finish the many books on my tbr) and failing after like two days

quoting (from memory) "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe verbatim to my boyfriend in the middle of the night because we were holding a flashlight under our faces like kids telling ghost stories

*Micarus was born from a discussion about Icarus between me and my roommate. She accidentally said "Micarus," and after a shared chuckle at the thought, followed it up with "Mickey Mouse when he flies too close to the sun."

**for my french 102 class I had to do a few "TalkAbroad" sessions which is essentially just a zoom call with a french speaker of your choosing

[badgalsasuke]

Kishimoto Interview for Jump Next! (2015)

To commemorate the start of the short-term intensive serialization, the editor interviewed Kishimoto-sensei directly!!! We asked him about his enthusiasm on the three developments!!!

About the Naruto exhibition.

―The Tokyo venue for Naruto is now open to the public. We asked you to supervise various aspects of it. How was that?

Masashi Kishimoto (hereafter Kishimoto): Yeah, since the serialization is over, I've been made to do—no, allowed to do a lot of things (laughs). I was able to directly supervise the sculptures, and Sasuke's sculpture was particularly difficult. Not just the sculptures, but as a whole exhibition, I think we were able to create something that would satisfy and entertain the visitors. It was refreshing to see the supervising teacher directly using clay to make adjustments.

―It was refreshing to see sensei directly use clay to make adjustments.

Kishimoto: I did a little bit of modeling in my university classes…

―Please tell us the highlights from your perspective as the sensei!

Kishimoto: We spent a long time preparing and had many supervisions and meetings, so I personally think that as the author, I'm satisfied with the content, and that it will satisfy those who have read NARUTO up until now. Even those who haven't read it, I think the exhibition will let you know, "This is what NARUTO is about." To be honest, you don't have to read the comics!

―…I think it will have a much stronger impact once you've read it…!

Kishimoto: Ah… yes, that's true…! I think that's an added bonus too!

About Boruto: Naruto the movie.

―"BORUTO: NARUTO THE MOVIE" will finally be released on August 7th.

Kishimoto: It's finally here…

―It's finally here. We started working on the script for this movie right after the serialization ended, so I'm sorry that we didn't give you any time off.

Kishimoto: Eh? You really think so? (laughs)

―…But this was the first time you'd written the script from start to finish, so I was thinking that you might have some thoughts about it. What do you think?

Kishimoto: During the serialization, I couldn't dedicate this much time to a movie, so... I think this is the first time I've been able to create a movie story that I am completely satisfied with. It was really fun to write. I didn't really get a break, to the point where I wondered if the serialization was really over... (laughs)

―We had a meeting on December 3rd of last year as well… and we also had a phone meeting on January 1st…

Kishimoto: When it comes to writing the entire script myself, I couldn't compromise, and it took more time than I expected... like, There's no space left on the calendar at all?" (laughs) But that makes it even more interesting. I struggled with Sasuke's lines, but I was able to write something that I felt satisfied with.

―I can't wait to see Boruto talking and in action!

Kishimoto: Me too! I hope everyone will look forward to it.

About the short term intensive serialization (Naruto Gaiden: The Seventh Hokage and The Scarlet Spring)

―The short, intensive serialization has finally begun. At this point, the first chapter has already been published in Jump.

Kishimoto: I won't say what it is, but I'm drawing it to be visually striking. If you read this story and watch the movie, I think you'll understand the meaning. Well... I think some people might notice it in the first chapter of the manga. The theme I want to depict is clear, so I'll just do my best to reach my goal!!!

―Who is your favorite character in this spin-off?

Kishimoto: Hmm, I'm the original author, so I like them all, but if I had to choose, it would be Chouchou.

―A defiant, overweight girl. It does seem like we haven't had one of those until now.

Kishimoto: I like it because it's refreshing in a way.

―This short-term intensive series, a must-see for all our readers!

Kishimoto: I'll give it my all in a short amount of time! Thank you in advance!

Thank you so much, Kishimoto-sensei!!