#and equal degrees of messed up

[heyclickadee]

One thing I love about the whole Stan and Ford dynamic when it comes to Bill is that of course Ford would fall hook, line, and sinker for Bill’s whole schtick. Dude bases his entire self worth on outside praise. He simultaneously believes he’s a gift to science AND that he’s a freak. And he’s bitter. He can’t let go of the idea that he’s owed something more. He needs people to tell him he’s smart and clever just so he can believe he deserves to exist. He doesn’t think he’s any good for anything else. He’s so in denial, isolated, and clumsy at forming interpersonal relationships that in the weeks before he met Bill he probably would have pack-bonded with a literal can of worms. So when Bill comes along going, “Of course you’re a genius, of course you’re important, that’s why I picked you to help me; come on, lemme help you talk to people, lemme calm that anxiety of yours,” Ford crumbles with no resistance whatsoever.

Stan, though—if Ford was brought up to tie his worth to others to how well he performed, Stan was brought up to believe he had no worth to anyone else at all. He’s just as much of a social misfit, he’s got the same crippling insecurity and that same bitterness about how life turned out but in spades, but he doesn’t have any ego to counterbalance it. He doesn’t see how he can ever be worth something to anyone else; someone trying to butter him up with flattery would never work. What he has instead of an ego is a degree of world-weary cynicism and enough insight into how people work to be a good conman. He’s incredibly sharp, and despite his insecurity everywhere else he’s got this weird degree of confidence in being a sleazy grifter. He’s good at it, and he knows it, and Bill would get two seconds into his schtick before Stan would uno reverse the whole thing and start scamming him right back.

[writtenbysprout]

Don't cry (over spilt coffee) | Dean Winchester x reader

word count: 1.3k+

pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!reader

tags: angst, bad day, fluff, dean being adorable

The day had started wrong and never quite managed to right itself. From the moment you got out of bed, everything seemed just a little off. First, it was the frustrating, endless search for clean socks that derailed your morning. Then, you stubbed your toe on the edge of the bathroom door. Small, insignificant things, but they piled up, one after the other, wearing you down by degrees.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, you felt like you were barely holding yourself together. The bunker’s halls, usually comforting in their quiet sturdiness, seemed to echo too much today, their shadows stretching longer than usual.

All you wanted was a moment to yourself, a brief reprieve from the weight pressing down on your chest. You found it, or at least tried to, in the kitchen. The simple act of brewing a pot of coffee felt grounding, the steady drip and rich aroma wrapping around you like a familiar hug.

As the pot finished brewing, you reached for your favorite mug—the one Dean had teased you about endlessly when you insisted it was the perfect size, even though it had a small chip on the rim. It wasn’t fancy, but it was yours, and that made it special.

Pouring the coffee, you added the usual splash of cream, stirring it slowly as you took a deep breath. The warmth of the mug against your palms was soothing, the scent promising comfort.

But then, as you turned to head to the table, the mug slipped from your grasp.

It all happened in slow motion. The mug fell, crashing onto the tile floor, coffee splattering everywhere in chaotic streaks. The sound of shattering ceramic echoed in the small kitchen, louder than it had any right to be.

You froze, staring down at the mess. The last thread of control you’d been clinging to snapped. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them, spilling over as you sank to your knees.

“It’s just a mug,” you whispered to yourself, the words trembling as they fell from your lips. “It’s just coffee.” But the tears didn’t stop.

“Hey.”

Dean’s voice broke through the haze, soft and laced with concern. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

You hastily wiped at your face with the back of your hand, trying to collect yourself. “It’s fine,” you mumbled, your voice shaky. “I’m fine. Just made a mess.”

Dean crouched down beside you, his green eyes scanning your face. His expression was tender, worry etched into every line. He said you name softly, “this isn’t about the coffee, is it?”

The kindness in his voice, the understanding, was too much. The dam burst, and you let out a choked sob, covering your face with your hands.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. His flannel smelled like leather and the faint trace of gun oil, grounding you in its familiarity.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “I got you. Just let it out.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of the day finally found release. Dean held you tighter, as if his arms alone could shield you from whatever had driven you to this breaking point.

When the sobs subsided into soft sniffles, Dean pulled back just enough to look at you. His hand brushed a stray tear from your cheek, his touch warm and gentle.

“There you are,” he said, offering a small smile. “You with me now?”

You nodded, though your voice was still thick with emotion. “Yeah. Sorry. I just…”

Dean shook his head, silencing you with a look that was equal parts affection and exasperation. “You don’t have to apologize for being human,” he said. “We all have those days.”

He stood, offering you a hand. You hesitated, glancing down at the shattered mug and the coffee pooling around it.

“Dean, I should clean this up—”

“Nope.” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You sit. I’ll take care of it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t stern, exactly—just determined, with a hint of that Dean Winchester stubbornness that you knew better than to fight.

Reluctantly, you let him guide you to one of the stools at the counter.

Dean moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing a towel to mop up the coffee and a dustpan to sweep up the shards of the broken mug. He worked quickly but carefully, his movements efficient.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said softly, watching him from your perch.

Dean glanced up, his green eyes locking onto yours. “Of course I did,” he said simply. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t clean up your spilled coffee and make you feel better about it?”

The warmth in his voice made your chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t from sadness.

Once the mess was cleaned, Dean washed his hands and turned back to you. “Now, let’s get you a new cup of coffee.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I want—”

“Uh-uh,” Dean interrupted, holding up a finger. “No arguing. You’re getting a fresh cup, and you’re going to sit here and let me take care of you. End of discussion.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “Yes, sir,” you said, mock saluting.

Dean smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

He took extra care this time, pouring the coffee, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar. When he handed you the mug, he stayed close, leaning against the counter as his eyes searched your face.

“Better?” he asked, his tone quieter now, his concern evident.

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the mug. The warmth seeped into your skin, soothing in a way that went beyond the physical. “Better,” you admitted.

Dean didn’t move right away. Instead, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against your arm.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” he said. “About anything. I don’t care if it’s big or small. If it’s bugging you, I want to know.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep fresh tears at bay. “I know,” you said softly. “It’s just… hard sometimes.”

Dean nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on your arm. “I get it. Believe me, I do. But you’re not alone, okay? Not ever.”

You set the mug down, reaching for his hand. His fingers laced through yours automatically, the simple gesture grounding you.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Dean leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always,” he murmured against your skin.

As the tension in your chest finally began to ease, you couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly Dean managed to make you feel safe. It wasn’t just the way he took charge or his easy confidence—it was the way he saw you, really saw you, and cared enough to stay when things got messy.

He moved to sit beside you, his hand never letting go of yours. “Alright,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Now that we’ve got the coffee situation under control, how about we take the rest of the night off?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Take the night off? From what?”

Dean grinned, that familiar mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “From everything. No hunts, no research, no worrying about the end of the world. Just you, me, and maybe a bad movie or two.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in your chest spreading. “That sounds perfect.”

“Damn right it does,” Dean said, giving your hand a squeeze.

[cthonic-bunny]

1. Natal Chart Observations

1. Libra Moon: decision paralysis that comes from feeling two contradicting ways about an issue. “I want my cake but I want to eat it too.” I feel like libra moons are the most sentimental of the air moon signs. Libra moons can constantly weigh out the pros and cons for every emotion you feel. “I want to do this but I don’t want to deal with how messy it’ll make things.” When libra moons are feeling a little lost, they can over-schedule themselves and their commitments to friends to avoid thinking about overly-vulnerable feelings. There is zero tolerance for imbalance in relationships. Poor behavior from a partner will be met with matched behavior to tip the scales back to a balanced one, even if the overall locational of the scale is descending into negativity. “You get what you give” mentality. Libra moons can be keen on the idea of karma. “Come to me with sweetness, or don’t come to me at all.” Daydreaming about romance is a relaxing way to pass time. Before maturity, libra moons might suffer from social anxieties when they find themselves in group settings where there isn’t a cohesive vibe. If someone around a libra moon doesn’t look like they are having a good time, it subconsciously makes it difficult for a libra moon to relax. The libra moon will then play the role of a diplomat or host/hostess to ensure the vibes equalize to restore their peace.

2. Mars in the 10th house: these natives are always making money. They are known for their side hustles too. They are always looking for new ways to make money and I feel like they are good at getting clientele. They will get their hands dirty for their job. For a man, this can point to a “blue collar ‘manly’ job.” I noticed 10H mars can be pretty generous with their money and services, but feel extremely terrible about getting help from others. If these natives aren’t confident where they are in their career or skill set(s), I noticed that they are likely to undersell themselves or undercharge for their services/time. It can also point to people in the workplace as perceiving the 10H mars person to be brash and outspoken. The authority figures in their career can feel a sense of competition with the 10H mars person, or wants to humble them in some way. I feel like it’s really easy for them to get good jobs or climb up the ladder when they do things the right way. They get impatient when they aren’t growing in their careers as fast as they want to. “Why am I not a millionaire yet.” They work hard for what they want and are very ambitious once they find their niche. I feel like these are often people who can find jobs that don’t necessarily need a degree. Their career mistakes feel explosive. They can be seen as “sharks” in their fields because they go in for the attack. They like to be the best and the most competent at what they do, and want their colleagues to see them as competition. “I’m the best and no one will tell me otherwise.” They can be known for being assertive and extremely determined in meeting their goals. They will work themselves to the core and utilize all their energy towards elevating themselves career and reputation wise.

3. Mars in the 1st House: These people might often be noticed for their bodies. They might be seen as someone you shouldn’t mess around with. They look athletic. Maybe they are known for fitness or for being athletic. These natives can be associated with the military, and probably look incredible in their uniforms. This is a man-eater or womanizer placement, for sure. “I get what I want when I want it.” They look like they have a rough exterior, even if they are sweethearts. They can be into martial arts. Commanding presence. They can make wonderful personal trainers. Regardless of gender, they can come off as being comfortable with their masculine energy. Reds look great on them. They might have thick eyebrows and a nice jawline. They look attractive when they are angry. They know how to make someone feel sexy. They have people chasing them or falling for them fast.

4. Pisces and 12th house placements: these people have no problem ghosting you. Pisces placements and 12H placements are always made out to be innocent and naive, but they are attracted to people and situations that have something a little “bad” about them. Savior complex. They can go through feelings where they feel detached from social settings and those they love, where they cannot fully escape the role of observer. They will always be able to fully escape into their internal landscape and get consumed by it— but it seems as though no matter how hard they try, they can’t have that same presence in the material world. This can lead to frustrating feelings of disconnection from the world and people around them. They can be smiling and staring off, but you will never fully know what they are thinking. They can make people really curious about them, because their thoughts always catch you off guard. Having an existential crisis on the daily. Casual things might have a bigger internal meaning to them that others might not always understand. We can find plenty of people attractive, but if the spark isn’t felt in the soul and doesn’t pique a deep curiosity, we will get bored and swim away. Liking people who are a bit “mean and dark” but wanting them to be sweet and soft with you. Using music to paint your daydreams, or to escape. Finding music that relates almost entirely to whatever they have on their mind feels like striking gold. They can like someone just for having the same interests as them. Feeling like a ghost in a flesh suit. Enigmatic. Can embody different vibes and personas depending on who they are around. They are sensitive and can adapt to the situations at hand. Too much self awareness can lock them in their heads. “I only jump into waters with the depth of an abyss.” Laying down for hours just to daydream and process your thoughts. Long baths feel like therapy. Moderation isn’t in our vocabulary. We love what we like, and we want to get lost in what we love. Not being able to properly process your day or interactions until you’re alone and can replay them in isolation.

5. Taurus Placements: I noticed Taurus moon women get spoiled financially by their partners. The type for their partners to say “don’t worry, I’ll work and you can be at home,” or that being their partners goal at a point. I noticed Taurus placements can enjoy the occasional shoplifting. They are not going to compromise their comfort, and if you come after that it will be met with intense stubbornness. They can seem nonchalant about a lot of things, but can be extremely unwavering in their opinions on certain things. In some cases, they can have strange eating habits or relationship to food. Thankfully, the Tauruses I’ve been around don’t project that on those around them. It’s more internal from what I’ve noticed, and they can enjoy feeding those they love and care for. They can have great taste in food. They love sensual vices and sex. They look great with pearls. They master an aesthetic and can stick to it. They are fiercely protective of those they love. They can be lazy at their worst and will not want to do anything that requires too much effort. They can be impressively good at couponing. Making money from home is the ideal setup for them. They will spoil their loved ones too, and can be great gift givers. They don’t cheap out with presents for their loved ones. They get much enjoyment from decorating their spaces and hosting their loved ones. They can be prone to overthinking and some may obsessive behaviors or crippling anxiety as well. They can honestly make the best scammers, as terrible as that sounds. They can sell someone a dream and make it sound beautiful, but can be lying through their teeth. Their jealousies can sometimes come from a place of vanity. Watch out for envying others, and appreciate your own beauty. They can focus so much on the beauty around them they forget about their own. They can be the image of beauty and grace, or strive deeply for that. They have pretty and soothing voices. Taurus placements can easily be the funniest person you know when they are in a joyful mood. I also noticed Taurus placements are wonderful at finding vintage pieces and re-selling them!

-D

[dearlyd3parted]

half agony, half smoke | k. jongseob x reader

syp☆彡: kim jongseob has a problem. well, lots of them actually. his lighters never last long, his friends keep pestering him, he’s recently discovered he’s a lot more of an outsider than he thought he was, and the librarian is doing something strange to his heart.

word count: 14.4k

warnings: delinquent!jongseob (as i have pegged it) x librarian!reader .. 18+, nsfw, does contain smut at the end, minors do not interact! light angst (gets resolved quick dw), mentions of smoking (devils lettuce), drinking, some profanity.

⛓️authors note : debut fic lol !! this is v self indulgent, i love jongseob killing it era and i love books how can you blame me(^_^) havent written fic in forever and used to be an ao3 author, only proofread once so pls be nice!! i hope to open requests in the future :3 hope u love!

🏷️: #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony smut #kim jongseob #i love this one #pls love it too

“Out of all of us…I think Jongseob’s the worst.”

Is what came out in chuckles from Keeho’s mouth, followed by 4 other snickers and remarks of agreement. Jongseob, in question, was staring at the ceiling in a daze, when the statement made him bring his half lidded gaze back to his friends.

“The worst? How, hyung?” Jongseob said with a growing smirk, his body sunk into the couch as a familiar wave of relaxation took over him.

It was a typical weekday night, at least for Jongseob and his friends it was. They had just finished band practice, which usually consisted of running through a small setlist and messing around in the studio, which was just a small corner with all their necessary equipment in Theo’s basement. Oh, and of course the obligatory blunt (or two…or three) that they passed around after every practice like some sort of closing ritual.

Keeho was sprawled on the floor, joined by Shota, when he propped up on his elbow to stare at Jongseob with the same half lidded eyes. “You’re a total…delinquent.” He began, receiving nods from others. “I mean, we all are, I guess. But you’re like…especially worse.”

Following that statement came sounds of mmmm’s, indicating agreement from the other equally stoned guys in the room. And, well now Jongseob’s entire high was ruined.

He sat up to look around and couldn’t believe his barely opened eyes that these guys were mutually agreeing that he was the most misbehaved out of them all. Not when he’s seen Theo and Intak play a garage show for one of those stupidly large buzz balls. Now he was offended.

“Worse?” He spat with a puzzled look knitted in his eyebrows. “What do you mean? I’m not even in the top three in this room.”

Keeho snickered, joined by Intak who now took responsibility in explaining to Jongseob this twisted agenda that was being spread. “Dude, Come on. You’re the youngest, for starters.” He said as he took a drag, the neatly rolled blunt resting in his fingers. “So automatically you’ve got that edge to you…You were in the back of a cop car once. Theo had to call and pretend to be your dad, remember?”

Jongseob stared at him with thin, offended eyes as the blunt was passed down to soul, and apparently the shit-talk-jongseob baton to Keeho as he took over. “I definitely remember that. You're also addicted to those little pens, even though we tell you those things are bad for you. Let’s see…you fought throughout like all of your freshman and sophomore year. No idea how you graduated, by the way.”

Jongseob scoffed, running his hand through messy hair as he looked at the ceiling. “That was so long ago.”

“Whatever, you still did it.” Keeho retorted, giggling at soul puffing his cheeks with smoke. “What else……..oh! There was also your graffiti phase, too. Although we can’t get on you too much for that one. Sometimes you cuss like a sailor, You’re a little asshole to all of us. Aaaand…You’re failing community college. Even Jiung and Theo, and I have music degrees, man.”

Jongseob was passed the blunt from Shota (not so much passing as Jongseob snatching it) and took a long, hard drag before he shook his head and spoke. “Music degrees, wow. You’re gonna be baristas.”

Theo clicked his tongue and let out an annoyed sound as he looked over at an unbothered Jiung and very bothered Keeho. “See, little asshole.”

Shota, who out of he and Jiung would be most likely to defend Jongseob, finally sighed. “I don’t know Seob, that’s pretty bad.”

Jongseob was just irritated now. Cause honestly, if he began listing everything this bunch has done, himself excluded, they’d be there for an hour. Only because he was the youngest, and maybe a little snarkier, and maybe caring the least for any type of school or employment outside of music, was he named the biggest delinquent. What it was was, “Bullshit. You guys are all on your high horse but I’m really not bad.”

The next pillar who was meant to defend Jongseob came crumbling down, leaving his foundation crumbled and turned to dust as Jiung spoke up. “Jongseob…when was the last time you read a book?”

Jongseob stayed quiet, the question catching him off guard, and just as he was about to answer, Intak cut him off. “No comic books don’t count.”

He made a point to blow smoke in his face as he rebuttled, “Shota literally reads comic books, too.”

Keeho waved him off, a hand patting Shota’s head. “Shota’s just different. Whatever, the point remains. Not like you can help it though. You’re younger than all of us, so you’re going to be less mature. Now pass the blunt, it’s my turn.”

Jongseob shooed away the hand that was reaching for it, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, the blunt following his mouth. “Screw off, roll a new one.”

★彡

It had been maybe a day later when Jongseob found himself holding onto the rail of a train headed to an outer district of the city, known for housing one particular facility.

The library.

He had his headphones on, trying to bob his head to the song he was listening to, but he kept asking himself the same question. It was in only a few short minutes that he decided to grab his go-to dark wash jeans from the floor and any tank top that went with it, and make his way to the train station to go to the library.

But, the question was none other than why?

The truth is, every man has an insatiable ego, and Jongseob was not going to let it be bruised due to “being too much of a delinquent”, all at the fault of the epitome of rebellion themselves. (His dear, dear friends.)

So, he was going to read a book, damnit.

He didn’t care which, truly. Unfortunately, their statements had held true. Jongseob vaguely remembers reading a random chapter book back in his 6th year, but that was the last he had seen of that. Any book that he ever gave the light of day to were in fact comic books, and maybe he’d occasionally read a paragraph or two if one of his favorite artists had a written interview.

He didn’t care what book he read, he just needed to read something. As long as it was profound and complex and pretentious and educational or whatever, it would do the job of rubbing it in his friends face that he was more well rounded than they made him out to be.

That is the goal he was laser focused on as he stepped off the train, walking the short distance through the city and pushing through the heavy doors of the library, despite every bone in his body rejecting the idea.

He took a deep breath as he walked in, fumbling to turn off the music leaking from his headphones as it contradicted the quiet environment. Jongseob made his way to the front desk, suddenly conscious of every noise he made. Did the library require pin silence, or just no talking? Hell if he knew.

The front desk was empty. Momentarily, Jongseob searched for a bell, but realized that would be quite counter productive in this setting.

But, he didn’t have to search for long. He could hear shuffling behind the wall, coming from the room behind the front desk that said “archives” on the plaque. He looked down, and saw the belongings of someone who was there, surely someone was working.

Jongseob cleared his throat after a few seconds, deciding he had no choice but to call out, and so he did. “S’there someone back there?”

The shuffling stopped for a second, and continued, as a female voice could be heard. “Uh, yes! I’ll be out in a moment.”

Jongseob ran a hand over his neck before leaning on the counter. So, apparently it is okay to talk that loud in libraries. He struggled in stifling an annoyed groan as all that ran through his mind was that he didn’t want to be here longer than he needed to. But, alas, he had to see it through.

He lifted his head up from his shoes, staring at the wall that separated him and the librarian. “I just need to know…what uh…what books are the most important, you know? Like, what had the most impact or something.”

A sigh and continued shuffling could be heard as the librarian continued tending to what she was doing. “Oh, so…like the most influential? Um, I personally would say authors like Homer, Tolstoy, Voltaire, Plato, Dostoyevsky, they definitely have some of the most important books written. Something everyone should read.”

The librarian seemed to be fond of the question, but Jongseob wasn’t particularly fond of the answer, considering all of those names already sounded complicated.

A thud could be heard from the back, “But you also can’t forget the women authors that shaped literature. Toni Morrison, Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters…” The librarian rambled.

Jongseob was already discouraged, his head leaning on his hand. He was almost close to walking off, accepting his delinquent and classic stoner title, when the librarian stopped shuffling. Footsteps could be heard and out emerged you.

When Jongseob thought of a librarian, he thought of a middle aged lady, one who needed to desperately get laid and interact with someone other than her cats. Not a girl his age (who looked way too bright), with a sweet smile plastered on her face.

Jongseob stood up straight from where he was leaning, watching as you straightened out your clothes, and pushed up your glasses. You had a look of understanding, like you knew Jongseob was lost and clearly needed some elaboration on every word that had just come out of your mouth.

“Though, all those names can be a lot if you’ve never heard them before…” You said, your hands resting on the counter as Jongseob took in every aspect of you.

Your hair, braided to the side with strands sticking out in a perfect almost intentional way. Your eyes, doe-like and big, as if you could talk about this all day, even with someone like Jongseob. Your clothes, soft and delicate, nothing like Jongseob’s style, yet just so fitting on you. There seemed to be only one thought running rampant in his mind now as he processed all of these micro details.

Damnit, she is so cute.

Jongseob was interrupted from his thoughts as you spoke again. “I would recommend The great gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald to start off, and Animal Farm by George Orwell. Those are always the easiest to digest.”

Jongseob was too entranced to even care about the fact that you already knew he was too stupid to read any of the authors you had stated at first. He was almost too distracted to answer, but he managed to anyway as he swallowed the fluster in his throat. “Uh, okay, yeah. Great Gatsby…Animal Farm. Where can I find those?”

You pushed away from the counter, ducking down and leaving Jongseob’s sight. And strangely, it took everything in him to not lean over the counter to watch, but he didn’t have to as you popped shortly after, startling him into leaning back a little.

“Lucky for you, I haven’t put these back on the shelf. Here,” You said, pushing the books towards him, “You can read the backs!”

Jongseob reached out, picking up The Great Gatsby first, breathing in deeply before he started to read, already worried about seeming like a dumbass.

He began to skim through the paragraph in the back. A skim, because he would read a few words, think about it, and look up at you as sneakily as he could. By the time he remembered what he had to be doing, he had lost his place, and skipped a few words as he repeated this method.

Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald's third book…She’s pretty…Jazz Age…Generations of readers….She’s not doing anything, but she’s pretty…A Story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan…Can she see me looking?…Lavish parties…"gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,"…God, I think she saw me stare…Exquisitely crafted tale…1920s….one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.

As Jongseob started to lower the book from his line of view, you took note, stopping from scanning the barcodes of recently returned books to look at him. “What’d you think?” You asked him enthusiastically, genuinely curious to know.

Jongseob stayed quiet for a few seconds, partly because he was trying to process both what he just read, but also that you were standing in front of him again and he shouldn’t be this nervous. “Uh…so it’s, about parties? And some guy who’s in love with a girl?”

Hearing the extremely simplified yet somehow accurate summarization of the book from Jongseob, you giggled, the back of your hand coming to your mouth momentarily before looking back at him with a smile. Jongseob should NOT have felt so many emotions from a simple laugh. “Pretty much. But, like it said, super fancy parties. Not like the regular house parties we know.”

Jongseob pulled his gaze to the counter, placing it down as his rings made a noise grazing the wooden surface, still recovering from the sound of your laugh. “I don’t go to parties, so…don’t know what they’re like, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Jongseob said, before his eyes darted up to you. Why’d he say that? Was that rude, awkward, or worse, stupid? Why does he want you to know he doesn’t go to parties? I mean, he doesn’t, but is he already trying to convince you he’s not as much of a jackass as he looks?

Either way, you had definitely taken him as the type to go to parties, and that was evident by the way your eyes widened a little. Just subtly enough that if Jongseob wasn’t staring right at them, he might have not noticed. “Ah, I see,” you say through a smile, “I don’t either, but still, you’ll see the difference!”

You pushed the other book towards him, Jongseob watching your every movement. “Read the other! I think this one is the more interesting of the two!”

Jongseob nods, picking up the back of Animal Farm, prying his eyes off of you as he breathes and prepares himself for another synopsis with unnecessarily big words. With an internal sigh, he tries to shake off any surrounding thoughts to get a better grasp on this one.

A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned—a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible.

Jongseob can just tell his eyebrows are a little contorted. Despite not having an absolute grasp on what exactly tyranny and totalitarianism was, what he got from that was some poorly treated animals took over a farm, and somehow started to run it themselves? He wondered for a second if he was still high from yesterday, before you entered and cleared any confusion.

“Yeah, that one can seem a bit odd,” you said as you walked back over to him. “But, it is in fact about farm animals who take over their farm. Just with the added element of how power corrupts. I swear, it’s interesting once you start it up.”

Jongseob looks down at it, using every part of his brain that was tied to memory as he tried to pick apart the word totalitarianism. “So what, the animals turn into like, Stalin and all those other guys?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, just like that actually! George Orwell wanted the book to be an allegory, or a…hidden message, that represents the Russian revolution.”

Jongseob nods, a more smug look on his face knowing that he accidentally hit it on the dot. If only keeho could see him right now. It quickly turned into him looking like an idiot however, as not only could he simultaneously not stop looking at you but not holding eye contact, but he also wanted to hear you talk more, with no clue what to say. He was such a loser, why can’t he speak? You were just a girl, after all. What should he say? Does he even say anything? Can you tell that he’s nervous? And again, he shouldn’t be this nervous-

“So, you want to check them out? I can do that for you.” You said as his thoughts whirled, reminding him that he was standing in a public library.

Jongseob rubs the back of his neck and nods as he manages to slow his heart rate. “Yeah, I’ll take them.”

The next few minutes are spent with you and Jongseob going back and forth. Asking if he has a library card, Jongseob says yes, not wanting you to think this is the first time he’s ever been around a book, but he actually doesn’t know. You ask him for his number, put it in the system, and it turns out he doesn’t actually have a card.

Eventually, Jongseob ends up with a library card and Animal Farm and The Great Gatsby checked out under his name. As you slided the books back over to him, telling him he was all set with that stupidly sweet smile, he froze.

“So, how long do you think these will take me to read?”

He doesn’t know why he said anything, when he could’ve just bid you farewell and been on his merry way. Well, actually, he does know. He needed to talk to you more, and blurted the first question to come up in his mind. It’s just embarrassing to admit.

You tilted your head at him, thinking about it with inquisition, “Hm, well they’re both only a little over 100 pages…How long did it take you to read your last book?”

He really should’ve just walked away.

“Maybe…like a week.”

Lies. Such a lie. He could only pray the questions stopped there.

“And how long was it?”

Jongseob paused, pretending to think about it, but in his mind scrambling for any impressive number. Over 200 pages was good right? No, too little. 300? 500?

“Um…I think around, 620…?”

You didn’t have to know 6 represented the number of members in his band, and 20 derived from the number that represents his favorite substance.

But of course, you believed him. Having no reason to doubt, really. Looking pleasantly surprised, you nodded. “That’s pretty good! I think both should definitely take you no more than a week.”

If Jongseob already wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was now also overwhelmed with annoyance. Less than a week implied a few days, and he had never spent more than 10 minutes reading. Still, he tried his best to feign indifference, nodding his head. “Alright, well, thank you.”

You waved at him as he pushed away from the counter. “Anytime! I look forward to hearing your thoughts!”

Jongseob smiled politely, and turned around to walk away, swearing that he let go of a breath he had been holding since he walked in.

His headphones slipped back on as he recalled everything that had just happened. Not only does he now have two books in his hand that are definitely biting off more than he can chew, he interacted with the prettiest girl who he has seen in a while, but likely made a fool of himself and lied straight to her face.

He shook his head, wishing he could slap himself as he clenched on the books and swearing he would take this to the grave. Only the lord knew if his friends found out it would never die down.

Yeah, he was never coming back. And he certainly wasn’t reading these snoozefests. Jongseob had accepted defeat.

★彡

It had only been four days since he came that the blonde boy was back.

You have always loved reading. For most people, reading was something that they just had to do throughout school. Ever since you remember though, reading was never just a chore.

Since you were old enough, you made it your life’s mission to read whatever you could get your hands on. Prose, Poems, Novels, Biographies, Memoirs, Trilogies, Nonfiction, Fiction, Plays, and everything and anything in between.

If that made you a goody-two-shoes or not, you didn’t care. You were simply too busy immersing yourself in everything the well educated in society had to say, whether it was recent or from 500 years ago.

You always knew you wanted to pursue a type of career where you would somehow be involved in written media, in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, when an internship for a weekday program as an assistant librarian presented itself, you were all over the opportunity.

The job was going well. Afterall, you were getting paid to be surrounded by what you loved most. Sure, there would always be the rather fascinating people that you had to handle, but that came along with any job.

Jongseob, as the name on his file states, was certainly one of them.

It was odd enough that someone was asking for book recommendations with the criteria of being ‘the most important, you know?,’ but to continue to have a roller coaster of a conversation, bouncing from parties to hearing he allegedly read over 600 pages in a week.

You like to believe that literature always found people in life when they needed it. And throughout the time you spent at the library, you had come across many different characters reaching that point of their lives.

But never someone like Jongseob. Someone who looked like he was out of a rock band, throwing or attending the heaviest ragers in town during the weekends, and overall being what society liked to call an outsider. Someone who was pushing through the wooden double doors of the library and making a b-line to the front desk with books in hand you thought you’d never see again.

You smiled up at him from your computer, surely he wouldn’t be here for long if he was back so soon.

“Hello again? Didn’t like the books?” You said, watching him as he leaned against the counter again, taking in his what seemed to be classic dazed appearance adorned with baggy all black and a chain or two. Yeah, surely he was just dropping them off.

“Nah, I finished them…I have…lots of questions, though.”

That, you certainly weren’t expecting.

Regardless of how shocking the news may be, you were ecstatic. Not only that you had helped encourage a new person to read, but this person now had questions. Even someone like him. You beamed as you stood up to stand in front of him eager for this. “I’m sure I have answers.”

Jongseob seemed to ground himself with a sigh as he grabbed ‘Animal Farm’ in his hands. “You were right, this one was interesting when I started. So…was that one pig Napoleon, he really trained those puppies just so he could gain power?”

You nodded as you looked down and back at him, finding the curiosity and questioning in his face pretty…..endearing. “Uh, yeah, seems like it. And also as a way of keeping the rest of the farm scared,” You explained with a smile.

Jongseob nodded in understanding, his eyes narrowing as he searched for his next words. “I don’t get why Boxer was so loyal…I mean, I get he was dumb and all…but even then he couldn’t see what was happening, you know?”

You hummed in understanding, noting the way he waited for your word. “Well…since the book is an allegory to the Russian revolution, Boxer is supposed to be the Russian working class. They weren’t dumb…just tricked into doing work, similar to Boxer.”

This time it was Jongseob’s turn to nod as he looked down at the book, and this time seeming to have a much better grasp on the conversation as the first time he came around. “It was…it was pretty alright. I think it’s cool he did that, the author.” Jongseob began as he looked up, his hands tapping on the counter as he spoke to you with intrigue.

“He made the revolution easy to understand through a story about…pigs. That’s pretty cool, honestly. Cause I definitely didn’t understand any of that in sch-…….” Jongseob was saying before he seemed to freeze, his expression going sheepish as he stopped himself from finishing his sentence. “Um, yeah. Good book.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the save. Clearly, before this book, he hadn’t had a clue what happened during any revolution for that matter. Yet he didn’t want to let you know that. Perhaps from embarrassment, or an attempt to impress you. For some very odd reason, you were hoping it was the latter. You motioned to the second book at the counter, “What about great gatsby?”

Jongseob blinked himself to his default before he put down Animal Farm, switching the subject to the second book he read. “That one was ... .it was…not complicated but…hard to sit though?” He said, looking up to meet your eyes to check if that hadn’t hopefully passed as a ‘it was majorly confusing.’ “It’s about…money, right? Or…how people obsess too much over it and stuff.”

You nodded eagerly in approval, happy that even if he could barely get through it, he at least took away the most important aspect of the book. “Yeah! It played with the ideas of old money and new money, but at the end of the day, money was a major theme.”

Jongseob’s shoulders relaxed as if he had passed a quiz, and he leaned against the counter with a less tense demeanor. “So the Gatsby guy, he threw all those parties for Daisy. But…I don’t know. How could he expect a girl he dated for a month to wait 5 years for him?”

You pondered the question. It typically wasn’t one people asked, but he had a point. “He thought their love was strong enough, I guess. Maybe it was at some point, but not when they met 5 years later.

His face contorted a bit, as his head tilted like a confused animal. “She clearly didn’t love Tom either.” He remarked, and it was amusing how the conversation could pass as two people discussing a cheesy romance novel.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement with him. “No, but, greater than the love she once had for Gatsby, she loved the wealth and status Tom could give her more.”

Jongseob scoffed standing straighter up as both his palms rested on the counter. It was nice to see someone feeling everything that Fitzgerald likely wanted the reader to feel from the book, but somehow comedic to see that Jongseob almost seemed to be taking it personally. “That’s fu-, I mean, that’s messed up. How weird do you have to be to choose that over love? Gatsby was loaded too. And then, letting Gatsby get killed for Myrtle's death, when she was driving? I don’t think she ever loved him, honestly.”

It wasn’t the first time you talked to someone about books like this, but maybe the first that it was to someone your age that looked like this and seemed to be just as into it as you are. That made it all the more exciting. “My favorite part of that book was the last chapter. I think it really ties it all together how Gatsby had all these socialites, luxury, material things around him, but no one came to his funeral. Really makes you think, right?”

Jongseob nodded, a small turn in the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. “Yeah, it really did.” Jongseob said as he slid the books across to you, “I guess I’ll…return these now.” He said with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

You took the books back with a smile, making quick work of scanning them as you spoke. “I hope my picks weren’t too boring, but…in terms of most ‘important’, those are definitely a must.”

He stood with a hand on his neck, staring at you with pursed lips as you finished scanning his books. “Is there…a section where I can find more…?”

Your eyes brightened as you looked up at him, processing his question before feeling a smile come across your face. “More? Ah…well, the classic literature shelf. That’s where these came from.”

If you weren’t reading him so intensely, you wouldn’t have noticed the red tinge of color on his complexion, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Could you show me where?”

It was such a simple request, but it made your body stutter, almost as if you were nervous. When really, this was simply another visitor of the public library who it was your job to help. There was really no need to be nervous. I mean, he was just a guy with a grunge look to him (and not importantly, a flustered mess) that came in looking like a problem, but turned out to be one of the most recipient and easiest people to converse with. Nothing special.

“Yeah! I can show you!” You said as you stood up, going around the counter to motion at Jongseob to follow you.

When he had reached you and you began to lead him, he was taller than you expected, reaching over you only a little, but enough for it to be noticed. But not important. Also unimportantly, he smelled clean with a certain musk to him, in a good way. Again, Unimportant.

Jongseob followed the few feet with his hands in his pockets, stopping abruptly just next to you as you stood in front of the beefy shelf with your hands spread out. “This is it! I can leave you to it.” You said, turning your head right to look at him, hitting ridiculously large brown eyes boring into you. “Or…help you, if you want…”

Jongseob looked at the shelf for a moment, without looking your way, speaking up. “I never got your name.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart momentarily race, but alas, it did. You kept your eyes on him as you answered, your hands hidden behind your back. “Oh…sorry! It’s y/n.”

He kept his eyes scanning over the many options, but it didn’t feel like he was looking at the books. More like he didn't yet want to look at you. He contemplated with himself for a moment, before quietly yet loud enough for you to hear, he spoke. “Y/n….”

“Show me your favorites.”

★彡

The weeks that followed were something of a blur. When Jongseob had returned home from his first visit to the library, he sprawled on the ground, just staring at his books. It was insane to him that he had walked in with the intention to boost his pride, but now that was the last thing on his mind.

All he could think about was a stupid side braid, glasses, and voice that shouldn’t have been running in his head that much.

Sometimes, you meet people who intrigue you so much that you want to talk to them endlessly, about anything and everything. But, that meant having the courage to engage in a conversation of that sort. Jongseob thought he was strong enough to fight past the initial nerves, but after his performance in the library, he clearly was not.

Besides, what would he talk to you about? He doubted you were interested in hearing about his douche band or the stupid thing he and his friends had done recently. Overall, he was certain it was a lost cause.

Jongseob sat up faster than ever when he realized something. Surely, a librarian would love to talk about books. And he had two in his possession that you had just recommended.

Suddenly, it seemed he had the motivation to sit himself down and force his eyes to take in every word of every page of the books you had recommended. And surprisingly, it was….not too bad? Animal Farm was a heck of an allegory (whatever that was) and The Great Gatsby used more big words than he thought was necessary, but managed to intrigue him nonetheless.

Jongseob made a point to b-line for the library as soon as he was finished to report back to you. After a conversation he’d never imagine he would have, he knew he was crazy. And not about the books.

It didn’t seem fair to him that someone could have such a comfortable voice when they spoke about something they liked, a perfect pink color when they seemed flustered, or an addictive crease of their eyes whenever they smiled.

He knew then he was going to be seeing much more of that library. (You.)

He took one recommendation after the next, to Of mice and men, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Metamorphosis, The Stranger, and whatever else he had read that he already lost track of.

With every book, he asked himself why he had always deemed he hated reading, when it’s actually not all that bad. The books were interesting, and even more so when he thought about the effort and creativity into writing one. He figured it wasn’t much different than music or performing (or graffiti art), someone has a vision and sees it through. Books were just an amped up version of that.

He was reading books front to back so often that he was seeing you frequently. So often you could tell it was him by the way the doors closed softer than usual, his clunky shoes and rattling chains echoing before you could even see him. So often he knew what your exact schedule was, when it was the best time to see you. So often that everytime he came, grinning with that snaggletooth, it made your whole face warm in a fuzzy feeling. So often that you���d recommend the shorter books you knew he would fly through easier, so he would come back sooner.

And when reading a whole book and returning it wasn’t frequent enough, he started to come in just to ask you about whatever part he’s read so far. He was hesitant at first, because surely you would know by that point that there was more to it than just expanding his literary knowledge. Yet, when he came in and asked you to explain a chapter of The Metamorphosis, catching you as you were busy stashing books back on their respective shelves, you stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

He was certain you were weirded out to your core, but then that candy pink glow was back, and you smiled down at the floor before looking at him with these stupidly big brown eyes.

“Do you actually have a question, or did you just want to talk to me?”

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and surely he looked pathetic as he clammily fumbled with the book in his hands, his entire body on fire.

“Can’t it be both?”

There was no library big enough to fit all the books he would read just to see your face light up as you talked about the things you loved, which he quickly came to know were more than just books. You also liked listening to music (not the kind his band makes, which totally didn’t hurt his feelings), taking strolls through the city while listening to said music, thrifting for clothes at second hand stores and loving finding pieces that remind you of ‘grandma clothing’, and stargazing. One of your favorite spots being the grassy hill in town that was barely tall enough that if you angled yourself in just the right position, you couldn’t see the bustling streets under it, just the stars that were bright enough to shine.

Although he was hesitant at first, Jongseob opened up to you as well. He told you about his band and their hip-hop/noise music/all-over-the-place style. His love for wearing dark, layered clothes and chains. He told you about how much he likes to rap and write his own, how it’s the way he met his friends in the first place. Speaking of his friends, he let you in on the delinquency that they’re often caught up in, that he claimed he wasn’t that proud of with a smirk on his face.

As he explained to you that being dubbed the “worst” in his friend group was the reason why he picked up reading, he was nervous that you would see him differently. Up until then, although you may have had your speculations, he was just a guy with a much different aesthetic compared to yours that happened to share the same interest in books. But, he felt he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t criticize him like that, and he was proven right when you only giggled at the thought.

“That’s impressive, though. Really, there aren’t many people who can recognize that they need to read a little more. I’m glad they teased you for it. After all, how would we have become friends?”

Jongseob needed a long breather after you said that one. For many reasons, the most pressing, the word friends.

It excited him, but discouraged him all the same. He was pleasantly surprised that someone like you would consider him a friend, even knowing everything you got to know about him the past two months or so. He was also discouraged, because it’s exactly what he was to you.

A friend doesn’t inch closer to you as you sit on the table, just so he could take in your warmth and scent a little better. A friend doesn’t have the image of you pushing up your glasses as you talk to him imprinted in his mind. A friend doesn’t find himself zoning out on a conversation about the book he just read, taking dangerously long glances at pink lips, wondering what it would feel like if he just-

No, a friend wouldn’t do any of this. Yet that’s all you were to him.

Jongseob knows he’s not exactly the best at NOT wearing his emotion on his sleeves. You were also the smartest person he had ever known, not an idiot that would miss the psychological clues he can’t hide about how he has the fattest crush on you.

It would be one thing if you made it clear that you weren’t interested, but…you never gave that impression in the slightest. If anything, sometimes he wondered if the way your cheeks would go from shades of red and pink was for everybody, or just him. He wondered if he wasn’t actually seeing things when he swore in the corner of his eye you would stare at him until he looked back up.

These were the thoughts that had been racking his mind, running every scenario, every glance, every desire in dizzying circles. Surely, you had to have at least thought about it before, right? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself and ruin something so great by asking you. So, he decided he would wait for a signal— whatever that was—to let him know he was actually in. In the meantime, he’d have to settle with only being your friend.

Today, he found himself in the narrow space of two tall bookshelves. Jongseob sat against one side with his legs tucked, flicking his pen back and forth through his hands as a beat poured through his headphones. Of course, you sat on the opposite side, your book propped up against your knee with that look of focus that came up every time you read. He tried not to pay attention to the way both of your legs were centimeters from touching, or else probably explode.

The both of you were waiting for the library to clear out as it closed to the public, having made plans to go to a cafe downtown. It had become somewhat of a routine to leave the library and do something fun every week. He didn’t have to wait with you, but he found that you were the type of person that even comfortable silence was enjoyable. It even made him focus better.

So, Jongseob sat engrossed in the notebook in his lap, reading over lyrics that he had written down so far and bobbing his head along. He had made pretty good progress after he finally managed to stop himself from sneaking glances at you. He was too engrossed though, to the point where he hadn’t noticed the library go even more pin silent then it already was as you and him were the only ones left. Or the way you had put your book down and were staring at him after you had called his name twice with no answer.

He noticed when your hand reached out and pulled one of his earbuds out however, and his heart nearly stopped at how gently you did it, and how closely leaned in you were as you smiled at him. “Is the song that good?” You teased.

He held his breath until you backed away, letting out a shaky exhale as the distance he was accustomed to returned, and he could finally return the grin as he took out the other earbud. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know how I missed you.” He said as he used his ring littered hands to roll up the earbuds and put them in his bag next to him. “It’s not a song…just a beat. We wanna play a new song for the gig I told you about in two weeks but...I’ve been stumped. Couldn’t write a single lyric until now.”

You hummed in understanding, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as you tried to peek at his notebook. “Did you get a lot done?”

Jongseob nodded with a proud grin, his lips slightly pursed, holding up his notebook to show you the lyrics he had written, only his beaming eyes visible behind it.

You nodded with slightly wide eyes leaning in to skim over some of the words, and an endeared smile on your face as you looked at the doodles littered around the writing. “That’s pretty good! 2 verses there at least.” You said with a small clap as Jongseob put his notebook away as well, returning his attention back to you.

“What about you? How was your book?” He asked, tilting his head to try and read the title, which you noted looked a lot like a cat.

You handed your book to him adorned with a black cat bookmark, so he could read it himself. You were reading A Midsummer’s Night Dream. “I like it so far! It’s actually a play, remember I told you William Shakspeare is most famous for those?”

Jongseob hummed, nodding his head as he looked at you intently as you began your rant, “Yeah, the guy who wrote Romeo and Juliet, right?”

You nod as he handed you the book back, flipping through the pages carelessly as you spoke. “That’s the one. One day, we have to work you up to read one of his plays. They really are amazing. If I ever write something, I want it to be so meaningful it’s still important hundreds of years later, you know? That’s always been the dream, to say something in my writing and have so many people listen.”

Jongseob watched as you trailed off into your own thoughts as you stared down at the book, that familiar twinkle in your eye as you thought about your future, your goals, how you knew exactly what you wanted. It was one of the many things he liked about you, and at that moment it brought a strange heart-sinking feeling. He sighed as he shook himself off. “What’s it about?”

You broke out of your trance as you heard the question, perking up as started another passionate conversation. “Well, it’s a comedic play, and it’s got a lot of different themes, like magic…dreams…jealousy…but the main one is love, or how it’s difficult.”

Jongseob is suddenly paying more attention now. “Difficult?”

You nod as you search for your next words. “Mhm! The plot of the story revolves around a love potion, where the characters fall for each other based on their looks and nothing else. A main point though is when love is…out of balance. So, like a romantic relationship that is interfered with by the differences or inequalities of two people.”

Jongseob was listening to what you were saying, but his brain was processing it differently. Dissecting each and every word, and this time his face of adoration and focus on you was laced with something else you were too busy to name.

“Like… these two characters,” you continue as you talk with your hands. “Bottom and Titania. Titania is beautiful and graceful and this enigma, while Bottom is clumsy and ugly, but she still falls in love with him. Well, because of the potion, but still goes to show that imbalance. Listen to this quote, I really liked it,”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.”

Jongseob hates the way he felt, the way that he couldn’t look at you now, but there was a clear thought that invaded his mind and kept eating away at it. He stayed quiet and solemn long enough for you to notice, and as soon as you went to ask him if he was alright, he beat you to it.

“I’m…your friend, right? You like me?”

There was a pin drop silence added to the already dead silent library, but it was loud. All Jongseob could hear was the blood rushing through his head as he looked at your confused and wide eyes.

Your expression twisted slightly in confusion as you looked at him, swallowing before answering. “What? Of…of course I like you. You’re my friend.”

Jongseob’s knuckles went white as he gripped his bag tight. You had seen many emotions on his expressive face, but never this, never one that looked so defeated.

You could barely process what that meant as he stood up, throwing his bag on his back as he looked down at you. “I have to go. Sorry, Y/n.”

He started walking away before you could even register it, sliding your book off your lap as hurriedly stumbled to your feet, staring at his back with nothing but a sinister mixture of confusion and frustration. “Seob, wait! What happened?” You questioned, your voice raising the loudest it ever has in that room.

A part of you wanted to go after him, grill him and insist that he told you what was wrong, what made him feel that way. But Jongseob was already exiting the door, too fast to even consider it, and something told you he wouldn’t tell you anyway.

Since you met Jongseob, all you had been met with was a cheeky smile and a rosy fluster, all your favorite images of him. This time however, the only one that ran through your mind was the way he had just looked at you.

Like he had lost something.

★彡

monday, 8:34pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): hi jongseob. i haven’t seen you since sunday. you left pretty upset. if you need to talk, you know you’re always welcome

wednesday, 10:09am

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): good morning seob, please remember my last message. you know what times i’ll be here

friday, 11:08pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): at least let me know that you’re alright.

It was a pretty standard Saturday night. Jongseob’s friends in the upstairs of Theo’s home, probably eating pizza or pregaming for a party, Jongseob and Shota sprawled on the bean bag chairs, blasting music.

The only difference might be the big fat book in Jongseob’s hands.

He doesn’t know why he’s still reading, when he had given up on ever having a chance with you. Yet here he was, Sense and Sensibility on its 162nd page, even rejecting Shota’s advances to play Mario Kart instead.

The last time he had seen you, something that he had been trying to avoid so long had dawned on him. He liked you. So much. To the point where sometimes it was debilitating. Likely chances were that you could possibly like him as well.

That wasn’t what he had been avoiding, however. Jongseob was very certain of that fact. He realized why he was only ever going to be your friend. You were just like Tatania—or whatever her name was—smart, goal oriented, knew what you wanted, and god. So, so beautiful.

Meanwhile, Jongseob was just that other guy. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the ugliest, he likes to think he does pretty well for himself. He also wasn’t terribly clumsy like the character from the play.

In real life however, he was a total failure in your light. Getting high on the weekends and drifting around with his friends for the hell of it. Holding onto this false idea of being able to make a band work as a career one day. And although it is a long, complicated, and layered story, he had in fact been in the back of a cop car once.

The both of you were a real life version of a love “out of balance.” Hearing those words verbalized by you without you even realizing it had shattered down all the walls he put up attempting to mask that very truth.

The way you had spoken about love being about the mind was another deafening blow. It would make sense that someone like you would want someone sophisticated, well spoken, mature. No, it was what you deserved.

It had dawned on him that he probably wasn’t any of these things to you.

He had to leave that day. Had he not, he would have broken down on the spot. So he did what he felt was right, and valiantly exited out.

Or at least, he thinks it’s right. He doesn’t know. He’s read your messages, wondered how you must be feeling, and he becomes conflicted all over again.

Like now, when the mere recollection of the events of the past week had caused him to groan and flop back, shutting his book as he looked over at Shota, eyes glued to the TV with a disposable weed pen and the switch controller in his hands.

He sighed as he sat back, staring at the book in his lap. The words were too big anyway, and there was a lot going on that he needed help dissecting. Knowing just the person who could help made it ten times worse

He didn’t know if he had made the right choice. The only thing certain is that he hardly deserved you as a friend. Let alone a lover.

Jongseob sighed before sitting up straighter, putting his book on the table next to him, his arms on his knees. “Shota, let me borrow your pen.”

Shota glanced over at Jongseob quickly, before turning back to the Mario Kart screen to pause it. Then, looking back at Jongseob again with an Incredulous look on his face. He put down his controls, before turning around and cupping his face, screaming, “Steph!!! Come down here!!”

As Shota turned back to Jongseob, Jongseob gave him a look of annoyance and confusion, to which the other boy only shrugged and continued his game.

Keeho came down the stairs mere moments later, scanning the basement until it landed on both boys. “What is it, Sho?”

“Jongseob’s trying to get high out of his mind again.” Shota said, not once taking his eyes off the screen.

Jongseob groaned as Keeho walked up to them, throwing his head back in annoyance. “All of a sudden everyone’s trying to be saints.”

Keeho sighed as he sat on a stool, shaking his head at him. “And you’re trying to be dead. Theo told me you’ve been loitering around down here getting high all damn week with that book.” He said, nodding to Jane Austen’s novel on the table. “Something’s up.”

Jongseob sighed, averting his gaze from Keeho to the Mario Kart screen. “Nothing is up. I just… wanna get high more. That’s all.”

Keeho rolled his eyes, boring them right back into Jongseob. “Last time you felt like that turns out you were sulking over that stupid game you play. Spill.”

Jongseob shook his head in a soft motion, looking down at the floor. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Keeho stayed quiet for a moment, before speaking up again. “So…it’s a girl.”

Jongseob buried his hands in his face, hearing the game of Mario Kart pause once again as four eyes bored into him now. “God…why do you always jump to the furthest conclusion?”

Keeho scoffed, shaking Jongseob by the shoulders a bit. “But I didn’t this time. It’s a girl. You think we don’t notice how you disappear for hours? Try to dress nicer, wear cologne? Read those books?”

Jongseob rubbed his eyes, looking at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He had reached a point where he couldn’t deny it even if he tried with the way Shota and Keeho were burning holes into him. Even if he was able to, there was something strangely comforting about his cover being blown. Like he was given the chance to at least get a small weight off his chest.

“Maybe…there is a girl.” Jongseob murmured, his hand tracing down his eyes as they fluttered shut and all he could see was you.

“Don’t leave out anything.” Keeho said, leaning in closer to make sure he heard every word. It was rare that Jongseob was ever this distraught.

Jongseob didn’t even know where to begin, how to cover everything he had felt in the past few months. So, he simply decided to let his thoughts blurt out in whatever order they came in, and go from there. “She…She’s perfect.”

His breath went on shaky as his scramble of words continued. “She works at the library. I only met her because all of you made fun of me, saying I’m the biggest slack and idiot, I needed to prove that wrong. I was only supposed to read one or two books. But…she was there. So smart and nice and god–way too pretty. How could I not like her?”

Jongseob swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat up, his head dangled to the ground. “So I just kept reading so I could talk to her. And it wasn’t bad, I liked it. I liked her more. We became friends eventually, and I kept telling myself…maybe I had a chance. We spent so much time together, got along well, so maybe…she’d like me back one day.”

“I was with her last sunday and I just stormed out. I just…I realized that I can never be more than just her friend. I just can’t.”

Keeho and Shota exchanged glances as they processed his words, with the latter finally speaking as he cleared his throat. “So she rejected you?”

Jongseob shook his head with a frustrated sigh, his emotions whirling faster the more he had to relive this. “No, no. I haven’t even officially told her that I like her.”

The room was quiet a little longer, the silence heavy and brooding as the other two in the room were confused. Keeho breathed in and out before speaking. “So…why can you never be more than her friend?”

If Jongseob had 10% more of a problem with anger issues, or if it was in his nature, he’d get up and yell it in their faces. He didn’t though, and he didn’t have the energy to make it a grand thing either. So, his words could only be described as a pathetic, whiny, ramble.

“You won’t get it. Unless you know her like I do. She’s so kind…even to someone like me. The smartest person I’ve met. She’s got such a drive, determination, and knows what she wants in the future. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She’s perfect. And me? I smoke and drink and I do stupid shit when I’m with you guys. I’m in a band thinking I’ll make it far in life that way. And even though it’s gotten better now, I must be the dumbest guy on earth. You guys were right, I really had never picked up a book. And as much as I try to match her, I won’t get there. She’s perfect, and I’m not even average. Not even good.”

If he could exit his body and slap himself for laying out all of his insecurities, he would. It was too late now, however. So it wouldn’t hurt anyone for Jongseob to say everything he had been wanting to.

“It’s not that we can’t be anything more than friends. Who knows, maybe we could. It’s just that I don’t deserve to be anything more with her.”

It was all embarrassing for Jongseob. The silence of Keeho and Shota, the way that whole monologue sounded somehow even more pathetic aloud than in his head, the way he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He thought to himself this is why he didn’t say anything from the beginning.

“All that stuff I said about you being ‘the worst’ of us all, do you really believe it?”

Jongseob looked up from the floor, finding Shota had scooted closer, and Keeho was looking at him with a sincerity he rarely got from his friends as they had always been lighthearted with each other.

“I mean…it makes sense. I kind of am.”

Keeho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shake of his head. “First of all, I was blasted out of my mind when I said that. You know we shouldn’t take any of each other’s words seriously by that point.” Keeho explained with a scolding look in his eye. “Second of all, you are not some lowlife drifter, Seob. Well…maybe on occasion, you are. But you know what you also are? The youngest.”

Jongseob was looking at him with questioning eyes, his lip caught in his teeth as he listened to his older friend speak.

“Jongseob, you’re only 19. I can assure you, Theo and I were doing much worse at that age. Sure, you get into some trouble, enjoy some things you shouldn’t enjoy,” Keeho said, as he looked over to grab the disposable in Shota’s hand and pocket it away. “But that doesn’t take away from the good qualities that landed you five friends that see you as family. You may be rough around the edges, but deep down you’re a good kid. You’re nice when it counts, passionate about the things you like. Total cutie, too. Right, Sho?”

Jongseob searched Keeho’s face for any deceit, finding none. He was only more reassured when he looked over to Shota, finding him nodding eagerly.

“And trust me, you have all the time in the world to grow into that identity and retire that delinquent title. And I know you will when you’re ready.” Keeho said, a small smile on the corner of his lips. “So don’t push what sounds like an amazing girl away because you’re still figuring your shit out. Who knows, she probably sees the same things in you that we do. If she’s as nice and smart as you say she is, she’ll hold her own against a jerk like you if that’s what she wants. You deserve it just as much as any other asshole.”

It was always strange how his friends had the power to turn Jongseob’s mood in a complete 180. Because now he was smiling, and suddenly the cloud of moodiness and a sour mix of emotions hovering over him the past few months had started to clear, and the words Keeho had said made much more sense than Jongseob’s little outburst.

“Shota…Hyung…Thank you. I needed someone to tell me that.” Jongseob said, taking a deep breath as he sat up straight.

Keeho smiled, reaching over to fluff up Jongseob’s blonde hair. “You still have a problem, though. Have you talked to her since sunday?”

The momentarily lifted weight off Jongseob’s shoulders returned once again, and he sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I haven’t. I doubt she wants anything to do with me at this point.”

Keeho shook his head as he stood up, grabbing Jongseob by his shoulders. “No, shut up. You can still fix it, it just has to be now.”

Jongseob looked up at him with his eyebrows in a furrow. “Now? As in…right now?”

Shota took the keys out of his pocket, throwing them over to Jongseob. “Take the car.”

Keeho dragged Jongseob to his feet, throwing a nearby hoodie at him as he grabbed him like a coach talking to his quarterback before the game. “Don’t think about it. Just go. Before it’s too late.”

Jongseob could barely process throwing the hoodie on, his blonde hair messy as he was pushed out of the house by Keeho and Shota, and suddenly he was driving.

Jongseob had a new mindset, but his palms were sweating, sliding around on the steering wheel. He knew he needed to see you, but he wasn’t sure what he would say. He told himself it had to be the truth, and only the truth. It was what you deserved. All he had to do was find you now.

He drove by the library, but as he glanced at the time, it was already 7:30. It had been closed for half an hour, and it looked completely locked up already.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, asking himself where you could be. His eyes lit up as he remembered something, the car making a quick U-turn as he drove the direction he had just come from.

Mere minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the local park, making swift work of stumbling out and locking the car behind him. Jongseob started walking towards the back of the park, his legs tiring out as he started slowly going uphill. The city’s best spot for stargazing, the one you loved.

Even though he wasn’t sure you’d be there, he kept going anyway. It was a pretty good guess, and it proved to be right as more stars and less city came into view, and you sat there with your legs close to your chest as you looked up.

As he reached the top, a foot came down too loud, loud enough for it startle you out of your thoughts. You turned around initially anxious, almost immediately standing up, but your face softened once you made it out to be him. “Jongseob? What are you doing here?”

He took a couple quick breaths as he stood in front of you, breathless for many different reasons and taking in the face he had missed seeing. “Looking for you.” He said quietly, his eyes starstruck.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while…what happened? Are you alright?”

Jongseob sighed, nodding his head as he pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I ghosted you for a week and you’re still worried about me. I’m fine, Y/n. I just had to sort through some things.”

“I’m just worried about what happened the last time we saw each other. You left pretty angry, I don’t know if I said or did something.” You said, your hands clammy as you played with them, looking up at him.

Jongseob was just frustrated now, his hands falling to his sides. “No, god, no. You could never do anything wrong.”

Your insistence continued. “It had to have been something. Was it the friend thing? Because I-..” is all you managed to get out, before suddenly a palm was pressed against your mouth.

Jongseob was only left with the option of looking into your eyes, the ones always so big and vibrant and currently weren’t helping the nerves coursing through his body. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the stupid one.”

He slowly pulled his hand back, looking for the courage within himself as he looked at you. Confused, Anxious, probably shivering a bit, wearing a jacket way too light for the time of night. So beautiful. As if you only got prettier the more he looked and if he kept looking he was bound to die a blissful death. He finally took a deep breath, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, I like you, right? So much. As in way more than a friend?”

Your face flushed red, a tint seen even with how dark it was. You swallowed before answering. “Um…I had…an idea.”

He chuckled as he looked at his shoes quickly looking back up to make his eyes meet yours again. “I have ever since I first met you. I like you so much you made me finish a chapter book for the first time in years.”

“That day, when you were talking about that Shakespeare play, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it sounded just like us. Like we were that one out of balance couple. We’re so…different. It made me think, It could never work.

Jongseob was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Compared to you, I’m a total doof. I’ve only barely started reading, I like to do dumb things with other dumb people. I skip college to write dumb songs with my friends, and I never figured out what I want to be when I grow up. And to me, you’re so perfect in every way imaginable. My complete polar opposite.”

Jongseob stepped closer, without even realizing it, his eyes big and pleading. “Maybe we are out of balance, maybe every norm or tradition or whatever isn’t in line with this. I realized now that I don’t mind. If you’d let me, I’d do everything to make it work. To show you that no matter how out of balance, it could work. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense, all the best things never do.”

Your lips quivered a bit, looking at him with your whole body hot. Never in your life did you think you would be living out a love story that you could only fathom reading over and over. And not with the unruly grunge guy that had walked in the library months ago that you had pining for since.

You wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes, swallowing before you started talking. “A midsummer’s night dream was also about…how love looks with the mind, not the eyes.” You began, your voice a little shaky as you tried your best to look him in the eye. “Since I met you…I knew behind the exterior and the stuff you usually get into, you were a good person.”

You smiled as you recalled the first time he came in. “You’re always so expressive, I can read every emotion off your face. You’re curious, always asking questions. Patient, kind, passionate, charismatic. I could keep going, but all this to say,”

“I wouldn’t like you too if I didn’t think we went well together, despite all the differences.”

Jongseob took another step forward, and swears that even if you pinched him, he still wouldn’t believe any of this is real. The way that you looked at him with an adoration and warmth that had always been there. The way the wind slightly rustled your hair and his, proving that the both of you were here. Finally, he spoke softly. “You’re serious?”

You giggled a bit, nodding as you held both of your hands out. “I’m very serious. I like you a lot.”

He took your hands, looking down at them with incredulous brown eyes. They were softer than he could’ve made them out to be in any daydream. Gulping, he asked a question he had been dying to ask since that very first day.

“Y/n…please, can I kiss you?”

His lips were on yours before you knew it. And much to your surprise, it tasted a lot like a fruit punch.

☆彡

It had been a week since you and Jongseob had made up, and consequently a week since you started dating. After he had driven you home, he hurriedly popped the question as he hung out the passenger side window, like if he didn’t ask at that moment, there’d never be another chance. And of course, you agreed.

Today was your first date, which ended up being the show he and his band were playing. You stuck out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people dressed just like your boyfriend and his friends, the best outfit you could muster being a brown sweater and a denim skirt with doc martens.

You had never been to a small local show, but the energy from the crowd and the band, the setlist and the lights, everything tied together into being an enjoyable first experience.

You and Jongseob were now gathered around him and his rowdy friends at the back of the venue. You initially were only there to meet his friends, but it turned into a hangout of sorts. A few drinks and cigarettes caused a cheery conversation as they rode through an after show high.

You and Jongseob sat on a step with you watching as he and Shota played a game of cards. Shota kept beating him, even as you tried to whisper tips in his ear.

After a while, it was getting late, and after sitting for some time, you were a bit tired. Your head leaning on his shoulder as your energy started to dial down. On top of that, you also had to go to the bathroom.

You tapped Jongseob’s hand, whispering in his ear. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?”

Jongseob nodded, handing his cards to Shota as he shot up, giving you a hand. “Course. I’ll be back, guys.”

He took your hand, leading you through the empty venue, all the way to the bathroom, where he waited outside for you to be finished.

He smiled at you as you came out, noting the slightly more tired smile he got back from you. He put his hand out, wanting you to come closer. “I’m sorry. You’re tired. I’m the designated driver for some of these guys, though.”

You took his hands, pulled into a hug as his hands settled on your waist. “It’s okay,” you told him, your hand reaching up to pinch his cheek. “I get it.”

He chuckled at you, his eyes full of love and a completely smitten look. “I never got to tell you that you look really pretty today.”

His compliment sent a shiver down your spine, every word of endearment being so new still. “I didn’t get to tell you that you looked really good on stage tonight.”

It was Jongseob’s turn to be flustered as his cheeks washed pink, and like he had been doing since he first got a feel for them, he couldn’t stop looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggled, your hand already resting on his face in preparation. “I told you, you don’t have to ask.”

He titled his head, leaning closer as he smirked down at you. “Gotta be a gentleman, right?”

His lips came down on yours soft at first, softly molding them onto his as he got a feel for them. You swear he was trying to memorize every crevice and curve. But, as you put your hands over his own that laid on your waist, dragging them up and down in permission to let him feel, the air shifted.

He gasped shakily on your mouth, in such a needy way that shouldn’t have made your body go hot. He took the reigns of letting his hands run up from your sides all the way down to plump skin that drove him crazy being able to touch.

It wasn’t long before both of your tongues had made their way to each other, and suddenly it was evident to both of you there was something entirely different about this kiss. His hands were all over you, and yours tracing patterns on his chest and arms. There was a newfound lust in this one that both of you couldn’t deny

Yeah, this was different. If it wasn’t clear from the way you were pressing into him. And when you pressed too hard, he let out a soft moan in your mouth that shook you to your core.

He pulled away abruptly, his hands on your shoulders as he stared at you breathless, with new pink lips and a need in his eyes.

You wanted to complain about the distance, but before you could, he was fishing for his car keys in his pocket, his other hand intertwining with yours. “Let’s go to my house.”

Your eyebrows contorted, looking him up and down. “Why? You still have to drive your friends home.”

“They’ll figure it out.” He said, finally pulling out his keys and jangling them in front of you. “Besides…,I can’t fuck you here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he started pulling you out, but you followed him wordlessly. His friends noticed quickly as you both walked out, Jongseob with a mission to get you to his house as soon as he could. One of them called out—Intak if you remember correctly—noting the way he didn’t stop. “Seob! Where are you going? How do we get home?”

“Get an Uber!” He yelled without looking back, as you turned around and mouthed a small ‘Sorry!’ with a wave.

Jongseob wasted no time in opening the door for you and driving off as soon as you were buckled in. The car pulled out of its parking spot and his hand almost instinctively found its way to your thigh, rubbing the exposed skin your skirt showed in a way that he had to know was making you squirm.

The drive was agonizingly slow, his hand kept running down and getting dangerously close to where you were starting to yearn for him. “Are we…almost there?” You asked a little breathless only a few minutes in, although it had felt like hours.

Jongseob glanced over at you quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you clearly impatient for what was to come. “Soon, Y/n. Just a little longer, angel.”

He made it a point to go faster, as fast as he could without it being borderline dangerous. When he finally reached his house, the tires quietly screeched with how fast he pulled in, and the car was off and in park before you could blink.

His hand disconnected from your thigh, and already his absence was felt. He barely made it around to open your door as you stumbled out as well.

“My parents are asleep.” Jongseob announced, as he led you to the doorstep. You kept a grab on his jacket as he fumbled with his house keys. The more desperate he got, the harder it was to get them to function.

Eventually, the door opened quietly, and he used the same quietness to lock it behind you. After you had both discarded your shoes, with a swift motion his hand was in yours again as he plopped his keys on the table, leading you to his room.

His room was so unbelievably him. Scattered with posters of his favorite rock and indie bands, the biggest being a ‘Plastic Beach’ by the Gorillaz in the dead center. Messy and dark bedding, his gaming consoled all over. What had caught your eyes first, was the book you had just checked out to him, neatly stacked on his nightstand.

His room—that smelled only a little like weed—was the least of your concern, however. Not when he plopped himself on his bed, immediately pulling you on his lap to straddle on top of him as his lips crashed onto yours.

His hands only had gotten more adventurous, his whines less and less contained as his tongue immediately found yours again.

You felt like you were heaving into the kiss, it was all too much. The way his mouth danced with yours, your hands grabbing onto his neck, his own gripping at your ass in a way that made you question if this was your boyfriend. Too much, yet you wanted so much more.

Jongseob had started tugging at the hem of your sweater, but before he did anything, he pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva between you both. He looked up at you doe-eyed and out of breath, the sight ethereal. “Do you want this? I’ll stop right now if you don’t.”

You couldn’t have nodded faster, your hips starting to move on their own. “Yeah, of course I do. Please, Seob.”

Jongseob didn’t need to hear anything else as his hands started to get rid of your sweater, swiftly throwing off his own shirt afterwards. All you were left in was your bra, but he didn’t so much as glance, he couldn’t until he knew you were fine. “You need to tell me if you ever want to stop, Y/n.”

You nodded as his hands finally went to your back, fumbling with the clasps of your bra for a moment before you reached back, helping him get it off faster.

As it was thrown with the rest of the clothes, his eyes glazed over you, his face hot. Something in his expression that looked like he wanted to consume you. “Fuck…Y/n. You’re perfect. So, so perfect.” Jongseob said breathlessly as his lips found your neck.

Jongseob started peppering kisses wherever his heart desired, his hands reaching up to hesitantly cup your chest. “This okay?” He breathed against you, with you only giving him a shaky ‘yeah’ in response.

His touch felt like a trail of fire, and every kiss, every squeeze, brought a soft moan from your boyfriend, his thoughts spilling out in soft chants. “My Y/n…so perfect…so pretty.”

The kissing, the hickeys, the squeezing, it was all euphoric. But with every bit he gave you, you only needed more. Jongseob was too entranced in feeling your every curve to notice. It was only when your hips rolled into him on their lonesome that he was brought to life, a whine leaving his mouth.

You tried catching your breath before looking him in the eye, your heart beating out of its place. “Jongseob…please…I really…need you.”

If everything hadn’t driven him off the edge by now, your pleading did, and he nodded as he reached down for the zipper of your skirt, wasting no time in fulfilling your wish. “I’m taking these off, okay angel? Lift your hips for me.”

You listened to his requests, your lip caught in your teeth as the both of you worked on getting off your pants and the panties that you had soaked through long ago.

Jongseob looked at you as his hand reached down, placing a soft kiss on your lips as you finally felt his hand on your throbbing cunt. “Let me know if I need to stop. I need to prep you first.”

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as his hand explored you, and despite not having the most experience, he learned quickly. His thumb found your bundle of nerves, tracing soft circles as he listened and studied your every reaction, his free hand roaming up and down your back. It was only a matter of seconds before he found your entrance, already slick with arousal as he inserted one finger in, pressing and running it against your walls.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

You wondered why he even had to ask, especially when you were practically melting in his arms, your body shivering. “It does.” You said in a pant, your desperate voice going straight in his ear and down to his core.

“I’ll do another.” He announced, inserting a second finger.

He kept his thumb on your clit, continuing those small circles, as he moved his two fingers to press and pump them in and out of you, spreading them wider to loosen you up from time to time. As he did, he continued watching and listening to your quiet moans and sounds of pleasure, sounds that told him he was doing something right.

You were a mess at that point, your body even pressing down into him as he became more rigorous. “Seob…it feels good.”

Jongseob placed a kiss on your head, the sight of you falling apart over him driving him insane. “I know, Y/n. I know, angel. You’re doing good.”

It only took a little longer before your body started to tremble, your walls contracting over his fingers, and Jongseob knew you were close. He pulled his hand away, leaving you whining as you sighed. “Seob…” You begged, “Why’d you stop?”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, his cheeks red with all the blood rushing through him. “Sorry, angel. I want us to cum together.”

That was a request you couldn’t deny him, and you held onto him tight as he leaned over to open his dresser, pulling out a condom Jiung had given him for ‘emergencies.’ He’d definitely have to explain that to you later.

He held the condom between his teeth as he reached for his belt buckle, pulling it off as you used your knees to hover above him, helping him pull them off. When his dick was finally out, it was leaking at the tip, painfully hard due to everything that had just happened.

Jongseob ripped the condom with his teeth, and you took the rubber to place it on yourself. He gulped at the sight, his breath growing shakier the more excited he got. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Once it was on, you situated yourself just above him, his hands finding your hips. “I told you, Seob. I’m sure.” You said, leaning in to place a soft yet deep kiss on his lips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as he smiled up at you. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”

You didn’t want to wait anymore, neither of you did. Slowly, you sank down onto him, Jongseob helping guide you all the way. Taking the tip and going further, his sounds growing more and more pathetic as he bottomed out, the both of you stifling moans.

He threw his head back in an overwhelmed state, his chest heaving. “Fuck…You okay?” He asked, noting the way the corner of your eyes pricked with tears.

“I’m okay, Seob. Just give me a minute, s’too much.” You breathed, your hands tugging a little at his hair.

Jongseob nodded, his body trembling for friction as he held you down on him. “God…it’s…you’re….so tight around me.”

A few moments later, the weird pressure had subsided, and all the both of you wanted was to move. Jongseob looked both as if he was nervous to hurt you and the feeling of you was too much. It didn’t stop you from rolling your hips, though, looking at him with a look that told him everything he wanted to know.

Jongseob shuddered at your sudden movement, taking the hint to start moving. He helped lift your hips up and down onto him, all while your body involuntarily rolled into him by itself.

The pace picked up, and so did the pleasure. In this position, every subtle movement had his dick reaching as deep as it could go, making your brain go foggy and your moans threaten to get louder. Jongseob wasn’t any better. Every time he dragged against your gummy walls, every roll of your hips, his mind would go blank, and all he could do was place small kisses on your neck. “Y/n…feels so good…way too good.”

You had to bite down on your lip. Not only was he fucking you right, he was whining all the way through it. Going crazy at the feeling, at the way you made him feel. And it only instilled a desire in you to go even harder as you started to bounce up and down on him.

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and he had to bite down on your neck at your sudden movements. “Sh…Shit. Y/n, you can’t do that.” He said through pants, the sound only fueling your fire.

“Can’t stop.” You moaned a little too loud in his ear.

All inhibitions in the both of you had snapped by then. You kept riding him like it was never enough, Jongseob’s hands and lips touching everywhere, all of you, and he could barely keep the both of you up.

It wasn’t long before that familiar pit bubbled in your stomach, and this time Jongseob felt your walls clench around him. You were close, your movements sloppier and your pants and moans erratic.

Jongseob wasn’t far off himself, and he held onto the smallest part of your back as he helped you get there. “Cum, Y/n, My perfect girl. Do it on me. Please.”

His words and the look of lust on his face was all that you needed to finally get there, stifling your sounds in his neck as your whole body reached an impossible high.

Jongseob reached his own climax as you rode out yours, his hips rolling into yours one last time as you had the pleasure of hearing all of his heightened whines and gasps right in your very ear.

His body gave out, and unable to hold up the both of you, falling onto his bed as he slipped out of you.

As you both came to your senses, catching your breaths and reliving everything that had just happened, you scooted off of him, only your head lying on his chest as you listened to his slowing heartbeat.

Jongseob was the first to break the silence with a giggle.

You sat up a bit, looking at the smirk on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, Y/n. It’s stupid.”

“Just really glad I finally started reading.”

[taythecatfey]

I just gotta get up on my soap box here for a second.

Inhales

IF I SEE ONE MORE VIDEO OR THREAD ABOUT FULGRIM BEING WEAK AND PATHETIC IM GOING TO GO APE SHIT.

Fulgrim was given almost nothing to work with and then told go perform as good as everyone else. He saved his world with innovation, and compassion. He was a diplomate who was told he needed to be a general. He was told he's made for this so of course he can't feel overwhelmed and under prepared by his new task. He's gotta work twice as hard and fast to catch up with everyone else. He can't fail cause he can't afford to.

On top of that he gets mocked behind his back and to his face by his brothers for what he loves. Even Ferrus put him down when he said he'd make the best weapon. Cause someone as pretty as Fulgrim surely couldn't know anything about working with their hands. How many of the primarchs actually know what hard manual labor is like? If I was put down and constantly stressed about not being good enough I'd be a massive bitch too! I'd go out of my way to prove I'm equal if not better.

And out of all the traitors who fell to Chaos, Fulgrim was the one that had to be driven insane to get him to fall. The daemon sword pushed every insecurity and fanned his ego. He is not mentally well in that book. He falls to Horus manipulation after being told the Emporers doesn't love him. When he wanted to speak out at what Horus was saying the daemon physically wouldn't let him. He's really only that creepy pathedic mess after he's returned from his torture session in the painting. He was been broken down and made ready for Slaanesh to rebuild as her daemon prince.

I think people see him as pathedic and weak because hes uncomfortably human. He such human flaws and fears the other primarchs don't tend to show to the same degree. The primarchs have demigod like outburst. Fulgrim is just always emotional like a normal person. He's insecure and thats why I'm so endread to him. He still strove to prove he could do anything that was demanded of him and sadly that's what ruined him

[dreamsinarcadia]

The one where Trent falls asleep against a window and his sister falls asleep on Jude Bellingham’s shoulder.

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warning: not proofread

p.s: first time writing a bellingham fic!

Jude risked a glance over the top of her head at Trent. His friend was, thankfully, fast asleep with his headphones plugged in and arms crossed tightly across his chest. Trent’s sister was in an equally blissful state of slumber, but unlike her brother she didn’t have the side of her face comically jammed up against the glass.

Jude wished he could reach into his pocket to grab his phone and snap a photo, because this was picture perfect blackmail material for the future. But there was no way he’d move a single muscle in fear of jostling awake the woman sandwiched between the pair of footballers.

She’d fallen asleep as soon as Trent ushered her into the middle seat, body slack and head falling sideways barely a minute into the journey.

Right onto Jude’s shoulder.

Okay, that was a lie.

The man had turned his head at the slight bump to his side, pausing briefly as he saw that she was sound asleep, the tiniest dent of irritation between her brows as her body attempted to readjust into a more comfortable position.

Their day at the carnival must have taken a lot more out of her than he had thought. This had been her first trip to Madrid, and the sheer intensity of the heat had been tough on someone who had grown up in the abysmal weather conditions of Liverpool.

For such a cheerful personification of sunshine as herself to fall asleep on the train ride back to the city… Jude found himself frowning at his lack of perception.

He would have cut the entire day short if she’d asked him to, no questions asked. He would have gotten down a car, left Trent with the rest of the group and walked her right to her hotel room, the media be damned.

Jude wasn’t sure if it was the jet lag, but she hadn’t been sleeping all too well. Trent had mentioned that this holiday was a much needed escape from her studies. She was in the final year of her undergraduate degree and teetering on the edge of a serious burnout. Assignments had left her a yawning mess and dragging her feet as she followed her big brother to Madrid for a much needed weekend of fun.

Trent was so busy strong-arming his sister into joining him on all the rides that he hadn’t noticed her rapidly depleting energy.

There was a noticeable loss of bounce in her step, her big beautiful brown eyes hadn’t sparkled in a hot minute, and her voice was quiet. Jude found himself missing her a lot more than he believed was acceptable - as far as missing one of his best mate’s sisters was allowed.

When they get back to the hotel, Jude made a promise to himself to snatch the laptop from her room and hold it hostage for the rest of the weekend.

If she refused to take care of herself, then he would.

Brought back to the present at the way her head threatened to detach itself from her neck at the way it kept falling forward, Jude decided that his next move was the chivalrous thing to do and cajoled her head to rest on his shoulder. A smile threatened to break out on his face when she immediately snuggled into his side, cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder.

With a cautionary glance at Trent, who was fogging up a storm on the window he was snoring on, Jude raised a hand to gently tuck a few wayward curls behind her ear, fingers tracing the apple of her cheek as they did so.

Her nose twitched as she sighed in contentment.

The moment was witnessed by an older woman who was making her way down the aisle, her red-faced husband toting a multitude of colorful bags behind them. With a cheeky smile in place, she craned her neck to mumble something to the older gentleman, who quickly looked at them and nodded in agreement before urging her to move on.

Now Jude was by no means anywhere near fluent in Spanish yet, but he knew enough to piece some words together. The woman had called them a beautiful couple.

Just the mere thought of her as his girlfriend was enough for a rush of heat to colour his cheeks and set the tips of ears on fire. As the train entered a tunnel, the compartment was immediately swallowed into a brief moment of darkness.

She stirred awake at the jarring change of brightness as they exited the tunnel.

Blinking, she realised that her cheek was smushed against something solid and warm. Peering up, she locked gazes with an amused Jude.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Morning,” he greeted. The low rumble of his voice was powerful enough to send an electric shock wave down her spine and jumpstart her brain to assess the situation.

Oh God. Had she been drooling on Jude Bellingham’s shoulder?

She sprung back as if electrocuted, eyes wide as she smacked a hand on her chin to make sure there wasn’t any drool. Whipping her head around to see that her brother was practically dead to the world, she turned back to groan pitifully at the sheer embarrassment of the moment. “Oh my God, Jude, I’m so sorry!”

Her relationship with her brother’s friend had grown somewhat complicated over the years, the two of them tiptoeing around each other in the rare moments they would be alone in a room. They’ve been friends for so long, but something had changed at some point in time, and she was too afraid of Trent’s reaction to dare explore the shift in this relationship. Crushes were fleeting, but Trent’s ability to hold a grudge certainly was not.

Jude merely shook his head. Taking advantage of the woman floundering over what exactly to do next, he stretched his arm behind her frame to pull her closer to his side. And then, with the utmost caution, he placed a hand on her cheek. The heat radiating from his palm sent a shiver down her spine, while the softness of her skin dried up his throat to an extent that he had to swallow down the nerves threatening to break the innocent of this moment.

“Jude—”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off and gently pushed her head back onto his shoulder. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up at our stop.”

It was the softest she’d ever heard him speak, and it made her limbs feel like jelly. “Um… really?” She whispered, unable to bring herself to look up at him. A good thing, perhaps, as she would have found it amusing to see the Jude Bellingham blush a curious shade of fire engine red.

Jude, of course, was trying so desperately not to hyperventilate at the way she basically slumped bonelessly against his side at his gentle command. The arm that was perched comfortably on her shoulder dropped down to curl around her waist, a hand finding solace on the sliver of skin left exposed to the cool air.

The sensation of warm fingers tracing patterns on her skin sent a bolt of electricity through her body, lighting a fire in her chest that she didn’t know existed in the first place. As warm as ever, she turned her head to press her face into his shoulder. “You don’t mind?” She mumbled into his shirt.

“Nah.” His reply was simple and instantaneous. His voice sounded contemplative, as if coming to a realisation he had not yet realised he had to perceive.

And when he ducked his head to press a kiss on her forehead, she felt her toes curl in sheer delight, any thought of confusion and any semblance of hesitancy dissipating in the feeling of the most delicate kiss she’d ever received.

“I don’t mind.”

Oh. Trent was going to kill them.

This will be proofread over time, I promise 🫶

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[iid-smile]

hello! so, i don't know if you take requests, or write for blue lock in your blog, but if you do, may i request an interviewer!reader x the blue lock boys? the specific characters i want are: sae, rin, nagi, and kaiser. but feel free to add or remove characters as you'd like. but if you don't take requests and or don't write for blue lock, just tell me, no problem! thank you, and take care! also, i love your work!

crushing on the job

various blue lock boys x gn!interviewer!reader !

rin, sae, nagi, bachira, kunigami

author's note: this is a first because ive never thought id get a request for blue lock 😯 unfortunately, some sacrifices have been made since i don't read the manga, and kaiser has been eliminated... (im sorry i literally know nothing about him 😞) SO i added in bachira and kunigami in to make up for it

note: i wrote this as if they were normal footballers, so nothing from blue lock and whatever happens after is mentioned. the drabbles really very in length and definitely aren't equal.

synopsis: how they act when they fall in love with an interviewer at first sight. headcanons + drabbles!

itoshi rin I pre game interview

it's VERY obvious that he's caught something for you, because the way he looks at you is different to other interviewers

he's often at a loss for words and asks you to repeat your questions a lot. his head is in the clouds, and none of them get answered properly

he's overall a lot kinder and lighter with his words and ways of speech. his stance is much more relaxed than usual

the chances of either of you asking each other out are slim, so one of his teammates would do a bit of digging to get your contact info for him. if not, he'll be thinking about you nonstop and it messes up his performance

your feet move and twist around on the grass outside of camera view, as you stand beside one of the most skilled strikers in japan. the struggle of trying to put off this interview had to be abandoned at some point, and it's been months, yet it still feels too soon.

once the cameraman gives you a thumbs up, you take a deep breath and start to speak, completely forgetting to introduce yourself and the player. "so, what do you think the score will be in the end?"

rin just stares at you in the eye blankly, and it took you the small movement of turning the microphone towards him to snap him out of it. "huh?" his eyebrows raise a little.

you've seen how his other interviews have gone, and you were more than nervous to have your turn, fully expecting yourself to be belittled to some degree. but is it just you, or does he seem a bit... different? "t-the score? your predictions on the score?" you repeat, a small stutter in your voice and decreasing in volume as you go.

"uh..." he wipes his nose with his thumb and looks off to the side for a few seconds, before turning back to you again. "the score... yes." he answers mindlessly, nodding his head. it wasn't even a yes or no question...

in confusion, you blink, not even knowing how to respond. you were trying so hard to not let how uncomfortable you are shine through. you really have not a single clue what this man is thinking. "how are you feeling? about the upcoming match, i mean."

"a bit excited, i guess... i've been training." he looks at you and replies quietly before looking away again and scratching the back of his neck. "and other things..."

this is a first. anxiousness? rin always struck you as a confident man, or at least from what you've seen he is, so what does he have to be nervous about?

itoshi sae | meeting by chance (not)

(im sorry guys this may or may not be the most ooc and corny thing ever + im going off of the tiniest clips of him in the anime)

he just so happened to recognise you after a match

you interviewed every single player on his team except for him. coincidence? he thinks not. he's the best player, isn't he? why wouldn't you want to ask him anything?

for some reason, he finds it extremely entertaining when you're intimidated by him as a whole. he doesn't visibly show it though. you've got to have some confidence if you intentionally ignore THE itoshi sae

it's not that he's in love (probably in denial), but he's intrigued by you. he's a lot more pushy about things, but he doesn't mean to make it overwhelming. that's just his presence alone doing that

every interviewer out there knows how dry yet valuable sae's answers are. they ask the same questions, he gets the same answers, all the time. that's precisely why you don't want to interview him yourself. being shut down every time you try to question something is more embarrassing than people think, and you cringe just thinking about it.

so imagine your relief when you successfully get through an entire match without crossing paths with him. you would get to send in your notes, go home all happy and jolly, and sleep peacefully without a care in the world. but luck can only last so long.

you were just about to take a much needed bathroom break, but before you could turn a corner, there's a figure blocking your path. "you avoided me." it's itoshi sae in front of you.

your mind draws a blank. there's no one from your team within sight, or rather anyone in sight, and not even the comfort of your notebook could save you.

not only were you so confident in the fact that you wouldn't meet him that you hadn't written down any questions under his name, but you also told your team to wait in the car because you wouldn't take too long. "oh... i did?" a clear lie. "well, the producer and cameraman aren't here and stuff, so..." you attempt to get yourself out of situation, sheepishly at that.

his facial expression didn't change. he just continues to look down at you, and it was impossible to hold eye contact for more than a second. "unfortunate. because i want to hear what you have to say."

"i-it's nothing important, really... it's nothing you haven't heard before—"

he cuts you off. "i want to hear you say it."

something about the way he said it really freaks you out. conflict was running through your thoughts, your fingers twisting in the metal rings of your notebook. "okay... just a short one."

while your head was turned, you managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes squinting slightly, dare you say softening, and you pull out a pen from your pocket. "make sure you write down every word."

oh, you definitely were; with shaky hands. "will you say something different?" you ask. it was stupid, but still, you were eager to know.

for a beat, he stays silent, then tilting his head to the side. "...we'll see."

nagi seishiro I photobomber

this guy is in the background 24/7. he's honestly just a a bit lost and a curious little thing

he gets closer and closer until you finally interview him. at first he'll just be a blur, and he comes all the way up to behind you. he doesn't even mean to sneak up on you like that, he just wants to talk to you. his shadow would be so scary when he looms over you from behind

he's so weirdly energetic when he talks to you? not by a lot, but definitely more than when he normally speaks. he can actually be bothered to answer you properly, which is unexpected by many

he doesn't really flirt. if he does, it's unintentional. he's honest with his words and it kinda makes things awkward

"yes, thank you. i'm here at the saitama stadium to—" your eyes glanced down at the shadow on top of yours, growing larger and larger, and eventually overtaking the size of yours.

all of a sudden, there's a hand on your shoulder. "are you an interviewer?"

your head whips back and you take a step forward. you really shouldn't have been as surprised as you were, since you literally saw it coming. but you recognise this face. messy hair, much like a eskimo puppy, and dark eyes with permanent eyebags. nagi seishiro, who just happened to be a must have on your 'to interview list'.

"yes... yes, i am an interviewer."

nagi's hand remains on your shoulder, and he glances up at the camera in front of you. "is this on?" he points at it.

with a small glance at the device yourself, you nod. "mhm. and live." now that he's right here in front of you, you have to seize the opportunity. "since you're already here, would you like to...?"

lifting his hand, it's almost as if he took offence to the offer, his eyebrows furrowing. "who wouldn't want to with an interviewer as pretty as you?" he says, loud and clear.

you thought you were hearing things. him calling you pretty? that can't be real. "o-oh..." was the only thing you could say, a chuckle automatically leaving your mouth right after. it seems like he hadn't realised the effect of what he's said, moving on as if nothing happened.

bachira meguru I a silly pest

shameless and playful

the type of flirt that has you giggling and forgetting what you have to say because he's so smooth with it OR he's just so confusing that you accidentally agree to his advances

the type to say "this goal is for you" or "if i win this, you give me your number" and makes a promise to score as many times as possible

either he really embarrasses himself and you find his reaction cute, or he looks unexpectedly cool when he makes all of his shots like it's nothing

during one of his celebrations, he holds his hand up to his ear (🤙) so it's pretty much set in stone that you give him your number

you came prepared. interviewing a player very known for childish antics and trolling wasn't going to be easy, but you're always up for a challenge, especially when it'll reward you with some good material to work with. once the cameraman gives you the thumbs up, you finally start to speak. "are you disappointed that you haven't won an away games in a while?"

"hm..." bachira pouts, pretending to think as he rolls the ball beneath his foot. the entire time since the camera's been on him, he hasn't looked up from the ground. yet. "i'm more disappointed i haven't had the chance to meet you earlier. really had me missing out on life, you know?" he glances up at you as if that was the most normal thing to say, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

keep your cool, keep your cool. "how do you feel about being one of the youngest players on the team?" purposely, you don't expand on his answer, and move on to the next.

"i don't know. how old are you?"

as much as you'd like to entertain him, it wouldn't be appropriate. "too old for you." you reply, keeping your tone light with a chuckle.

"ah... you'll just have to wait for me then, huh?" oh. you don't think he was lying about that.

the smile and light atmosphere of the interview drops in an instant, replaced by a slightly stunned look that you know won't look good airing. how does he say these things with a straight face?

you quickly school your expression into a more neutral one. it's not like you can reprimand him on live tv, as much as you'd like to. "you don't think that's a little inappropriate?" you say.

bachira just shrugs, rolling a shoulder. "inappropriate is subjective." he doesn't give you a moment of rest, shifting his bodyweight to the other foot and continuing to toy with the ball. "can you ask me another question? this one is boring... actually, i'll ask you a question."

"oh god..." you mutter, your hand twitching and ready to facepalm.

"how about..." his eyes stare deep into yours, as if he was searching for something inside of them. "if i score a hat trick, i get your number."

your face scrunches up, since you thought he would take the hint already that you have to keep this professional. "that's a request." you correct.

"exactly."

"what?"

"so... number?"

"yes—" in that split second, your real personality slipped out, your brain subconsciously wanting to accept his offer. a brief moment later, the damage was already done, yet you were trying to fix it. "no! no!"

but he was already running off, a little skip in each step. "thank you~!" your manager won't be happy at all.

kunigami rensuke I press conference

probably wouldn't shoot his shot publicly/verbally, no pun intended. it's a respect sort of thing and a barrier between careers

might be ooc, but he really reminds me of this moment (i know its basketball, but still) are you seeing what im seeing?

accidentally threw his towel or water bottle at you at some point during his warmups, and then the sight of your pretty self was stamped into his brain

the clips would get really popular, and your company pretty much pressured you into going to his next game, and then the one after that, and the one after that...

even with all of the lights flashing in his eyes, kunigami could see you as if some sort of spotlight was on you, glancing around and hesitantly trying to find a moment to speak up. how could he not recognise you? you were that pretty interviewer that he threw his towel at by mistake. your face truly was unforgettable, and his first interaction with you happened to go like that.

usually, he would let thinks like this go, since it's not really something he needs to deal with, but he still feels like he owes you something. "hey, let them speak." he voices, firm and unyielding. anyone in their right mind wouldn't mess with a guy that clearly works out on a regular basis.

"so, you were saying?" he puts on his best smile, and you're so stunned by his kindness that you forget what you were going to say in the first place. luckily, you managed to put together some sort of random question that was good enough.

"ah, yes." you take a minute to look at your notes; they were completely blank. not very helpful... "you did really well during the game, but you didn't score as many goals as you did in your previous match. do you believe that you could have performed better, or are you satisfied with your results?"

he takes a second, and after a moment he responds. "well," his eyes gleam with pride. "i'm pretty satisfied with my performance. but i could do better, and i plan to in future matches as well."

and your little interest in passionate people ignites. "how do you do it? how do you keep improving, when you're already so good?"

he chuckles, slightly embarrassed by your compliment. "really, it isn't that amazing. i just love football, you know. i can't help but to always strive to do better. the people who are close to me motivate me a lot." a staff member moves over to adjust the microphone as kunigami has his head down, writing something on an unopened bottle of drink that his team was sponsored by.

by the time he lifts his gaze up to you again, he's suddenly struck with a certain dazzle in your eyes, a spark of curiosity. it felt like an attack straight to his heart, and that's when he knew you might be the one. perhaps it was naïve, but he's never felt this way before.

you knew it was best to step down before you get too ahead of yourself, so you nod and hand your mic to your assistant at your side. other people need their turns too, right? you also fail to notice kunigami giving the bottle to the staff next to him, whispering a few words to them.

only a few minutes later did you find yourself with a free drink in your hand, his number scribbled over the label in a thick black marker.

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine Halbrand realising that the light he was drawn to in Galadriel is actually yours...

Imagine Halbrand realising that the light he was drawn to in Galadriel is actually yours...

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He perceived you to be nothing different than any ordinary elf. No, not even that, he thought your human half left you even weaker. He couldn't be more wrong.

The scene kept haunting him even hours later. A glimpse at your true form, your true strength that you somehow kept hidden behind your mortal blood's influence... It was still hard to believe what he perceived of Galadriel was just a fragment, an echo of your true light.

His yearning for it more intense than anything he ever felt, yet your words to the elf in the next cell kept knocking him back down to earth.

The blissfully calm exterior you presented for the days he had known you had shattered when Galadriel was trying to justify her actions by her need for vengeance and she tried to rope you into her mess with reminding you of your shared loss in the worst way possible.

"Do you not care that the evil who took them from us is still out there?" she accused, going on about listing her brothers' bravery to go to fight evil and urging you to do the same.

Your reaction was startlingly violent. Grabbing her neck through the bars, you practically hissed through your teeth the words that condemned your kin to her current hollow state.

"I am tired of you using them as an excuse to justify your bloodthirst. If you ever again dare to imply that this selfish insanity is for them, tainting their name, their memory, and everything they stood for, then I might put you out of your misery myself." Halbrand saw you squeeze the elf's throat for good measure before you delivered your sentence to his fellow sinner.

"If you wish to wallow in this darkness, I will not hold you back anymore." As you said these words, he could see the light leaving Galadriel and returning to you, the bond he couldn't sense before cut by you, revealing a darkness not only in her but deep down in your human heart as well before he had seen your soul glow unlike any other elf's he ever met.

His need for you was edging on obsession but your parting words left him with equal amount of hope and dread as he realised how similar his and the elf's trouble is. Clearly thinking about what to do and with a slightly regretful expression you left the elf a little glimpse of light after all.

"Perhaps it is my fault," you mused out loud. "I was holding you up for too long and you forgot how to walk on your own." You paused with a heavy sigh. "What I know for certain now that if you do not want to get up from the floor where you are wasting away, then I cannot help." Another pause, a longer one as you contemplated something before gently adding on your offer. "You have to find your strength to stand on your own but if you do, and you want my help then, I promise, I will not let you fall."

Those words were like knives to his heart. The eternal loneliness he felt amplified to an unbearable degree but there was also a spark of hope, that perhaps you would offer the same help to him if he asked for it...

[starry-bi-sky]

Stillborn? No, still born au - Danny’s ghost form

Nothing too fancy here. Just me detailing Danny’s ghost form in the stillborn au :]. My first rule of thumb for every dp au i make is that danny’s gotta have a different design for each ghost form. It doesn’t have to be super drastic depending on the au (like for my dp godling au his suit remains relatively unchanged).

This is mostly so I can mess with character design and also so each Danny can have his own unique ghost form for identification reasons. And because I just want to, which is the most important part :].

Stillborn Danyal, unlike Things in Threes and Yaelokre Danyal, is the first to not have an assassin-based ghost form due to obvious reasons. He was raised in foster care all his life, the League has had no impact on his life beyond being the place where his mother is. But it’s not like he knows that.

As a result he gave me some trouble, and it took me a few days and a ton of frustration to figure out how I want him to look as a ghost. I could just keep him in the hazmat suit and mess around with the detailing, but i’ll be frank, I hate doing that.

Stillborn Danyal, unlike all his other au counterparts, is a fire core ghost like Vlad is. As a result, in his ghost form he can reach extreme temperatures with just a flick of his hand or a switch in his mood. His emotional regulation is shit, and as a result it’s not uncommon for him to let off heatwaves in either form. They’re just more intense as a ghost.

His hair is made of molten lava, and unlike the other Dannys, is not white as a result. It’s an ever constant flow as well, meaning it doesn’t stop flowing where his human hair ends. It just keeps “growing”. Danny routinely keeps his hair braided back because it slows the lava flow and keeps it off his face and arms. When it reaches his past feet, that’s when Danny superheats his hands and “cuts” his hair by yanking it off. It’s completely painless if he gets the right heat to do it. Afterwards, Danny either uses it as a weapon — braided whip, anyone? — or disposes of the excess lava somewhere it can’t hurt someone.

Molten lava ranges around 1,300 to 2,200 degrees Fahrenheit and can either be very fluid or very viscous and stiff. The heat of his hair, naturally, means that the living cannot physically get near him without proper covering. So Danny tends to keep a distance as much as possible during fights so he doesn’t burn anyone.

His emotions also affect the heat and fluidity of his hair. Which isn’t that great considering he can be pretty emotionally volatile thanks to all of his ✨trauma✨. The angrier or more emotional he is, the hotter and more fluid his hair is, meaning it burns brighter and flows faster. It’s very much possible for the lava to cool down enough to solidify into volcanic glass or igneous rock, but considering Danny’s mental state? He just isn’t capable of doing that on his own. Vlad’s hair is also molten lava, but he’s perfected how to keep it in an igneous rock state. His hair also glows bright enough that it’s impossible to see his face from a distance, and seeing it up close is equally as impossible considering all the ambient heat he gives off.

That’s not the only part thats made of lava and magma either. Danny’s hands and feet don’t have skin covering them, it’s crumbled and melted away into molten lava too. They’re the second hottest parts of his body only to his hair. Around his elbows is where his skin begins to crack and crumble into magma, and as a result he wears welding gloves in order to interact with the living world (and some ghosts) without melting anything. He can also run so hot that he can melt a blob ghost.

All fire core ghosts lack iris and pupils, it’s all one solid color. It is possible to shift their eyes into looking more “human like”, but there’s really no point to it and takes more practice and effort to achieve than its worth. Danny’s eyes are all green just like Vlad’s are all red.

Now for his clothes! Danny used to wear the hazmat suit, paired with an old hoodie he owned but didn’t wear often. Uppp until he was brainwashed by Circus Gothica. Afterwards, the only thing that transferred over was the color scheme.

Danny’s new Phantom outfit is designed more for looseness and breathability, but also means that as a result he gives off even more heat. His hazmat suit trapped most of it. He’s now wearing a white, sleeveless turtleneck (yall know the type. I am not immune to tropes and I think it looks good) with black harlem pants with an open slit up both sides and green flames running from his ankles to his knees, and spandex shorts underneath. He’s also wearing white stirrup socks. He wears green welding gloves. Due to the lack of proper footwear he tends to float everywhere otherwise he burns the ground thanks to the exposed skin. It’s significantly less “hero-like” or “scientist” and more resembling something a performer might wear.

As a result however, Danny is consistently cold. He struggles with his own thermal regulation and keeps trying to balance it between his own comfort and the comfort of the living around him. If he retains his own heat and keeps himself warm, he’s too hot for anyone to come near and he melts everything he touches, but if he cools down in order to interact with the world without his gloves and come near the living and only be “uncomfortably hot”, he’s freezing. He’s frustrated by the lack of balance. It was easier to interact with the hazmat suit, but he doesn’t want to go back to it and it’s not like he can either. The exposure allows him easier access to his powers.

Warm, sunny days are his favorite. He’ll sit out on the pavement and soak in the heat like a lizard. Catch him sitting on top of cars during 90 degree weather and just utterly content. It’s not as nice as the ghost zone’s Molten Springs but it’s the second best he can get without going into the infinite realms. The first best thing is going somewhere secluded and safe and just heating himself up into something that’s comfortable and letting his hair free. Nothing like cocooning yourself in your own magma flow.

[rebelspykatie]

Steve joins a fraternity because of his father, slots himself easily into the most prestigious fraternity on campus as a legacy. All the guys envy him, his father’s name following him, branding him as a top dog, even as a lowly freshman. The other pledges either resent him or suck up to him, hoping some of that Harrington charm will rub off on them. 

Steve’s done what’s expected of him his whole life, but college gives him that taste of freedom he’s longed for. When he starts dating Eddie, it’s like a breath of fresh air. Besides Robin, he’s the first person that really sees Steve. He’s not a Harrington, or King Steve, or a legacy pledge. He’s just Steve and it’s intoxicating. 

Expectations weigh heavily on Steve. He’s bound to disappoint. He’s used to being the prettiest person in the room, but not the smartest, and the future his father has laid out for him is outside of his capabilities. He’s never going to be a lawyer and take over his father’s firm. He’s never going to be as smart as his little brother Dustin. He’s never going to be anything besides a trophy husband at this rate, good at spending daddy’s money and looking good on social media. 

But Eddie makes him feel like he’s more. More than his father’s name, more than the notoriety he brings to his house. What’s not easy, is that Eddie is in a rival fraternity. Steve begged him not to go to the dark side, but Eddie couldn’t be swayed. The stuffy, prestigious nature of Steve’s house didn’t appeal to Eddie. No, he was drawn to the misfits, the house of slackers and party animals. He wanted to have fun, not make a name for himself. Steve wishes he had that freedom.

The rivalry gets between them, pranks wars gone wrong, comments on how they’re fraternizing with the enemy. Eddie’s better than Steve at ignoring it. It gets under his skin and festers. Eddie’s never on time, always partying with his brothers, late night dnd sessions that seem to be more important than their dates. When Eddie misses a function and leaves Steve standing there alone like an idiot, it’s the last straw and they part ways. 

It’s hard to avoid your ex when you’re on the same campus, just a few houses down from each other. But Steve gets over Eddie by getting under Tommy. He falls prey to his father’s expectations again and sees Tommy as the advantageous match he could be. They’re closer to equals, rich fathers and ambitions that get the best of them. 

It’s easy with Tommy in a different way, the way they both know deep down it’s a political match. They’re both gaining something from this. Tommy gets the hottest guy on campus on his arm, the future leader of their fraternity, and Steve gets to tell his father he’s not messing up his entire life dating a directionless, no-name loser from the worst fraternity on campus. Even if his father’s comments on Eddie make his blood boil, wanting to leap to Eddie's defense, even if he doesn’t deserve it after abandoning Steve. 

Steve’s never been made of the hard stuff like his father or Tommy, he’s always been brittle, too soft on the inside, too fragile to handle that kind of pressure long term. And it cracks, blows up in his face when Dustin wants to pledge and finds Tommy cheating on him with Carol. 

Dustin is less scared of their father, not the firstborn, never expected to take over the business, but he’s also inherently got more freedom because he’s known since he was a kid that he wanted to be a polymer engineer. That path is straightforward and one filled with accolades that impress, the kind of degree you can name drop at a business meeting and not be embarrassed about, because you know Dustin’s not destitute and broke. Dustin’s also never been good at the game their father plays. He’s honest and kind, even if he’s a sarcastic little shit. 

It shocks everyone when Dustin decides to rush Eddie’s fraternity. It’s become a home to misfits in the Greek system, the ones that don’t realy fit in anywhere else. Probably because they’re less worried about grades and more worried about their dnd campaigns and how many nerds they can collect under one roof. That should’ve been enough of a clue for Steve on where he’d land, but Steve is still blindsided by it. Mostly because it inadvertently brings Eddie back into his life. 

Suddenly he’s around every corner, teasing Steve about Dustin, asking more questions about their home life than he ever did while they were together, like there’s no bad blood between them and with a hint of understanding behind his eyes. He even checks in on Steve post Tommy fiasco. It tugs at something in his gut, tricks Steve into thinking Eddie still cares, that he didn’t abandon him because he found out how little Steve has to offer. That he didn’t get tired of Steve not being enough. 

Maybe Steve’s ready to give Eddie another chance. Maybe they deserve another chance at something real, especially when the universe keeps pulling them together. Steve wants something that’s his for once, something he built on his own, something that his father has no hand in. Eddie Munson might just be the very thing that saves Steve from himself. 

[sgt-tombstone]

Price: You're coming along, strictly as an observer. Hand over all you weapons.

Ghost: Is that really necessary?

(Price holds out his hand)

Ghost: Right.

(gives him a gun)

Price: And your backup.

Ghost: What backup?

Price: Left leg.

Ghost: Oh. That one.

(gives it to him)

Price: And the knife concealed at your waist.

(Ghost hands knife to Price, who hands it back)

Price: You can keep this. I just wanted you to know that I know.

I love the implications that

1. Price knows exactly where Ghost keeps all of his weapons (which… probably true, he’d oversee enough training drills to know all of his boys’ little quirks, it’s what makes him such a good captain)

2. Price likely knows that Ghost would rather die than go anywhere unarmed, just in case, so he lets him have one (1) knife (and really, knowing Ghost, that’s more than enough)

3. Part of Price’s “power” over his boys is his hyper-awareness of them, which he can use to his advantage in any given situation (not necessarily a bad thing, but definitely a very useful power to have)

4. Ghost would rather give up all of his secrets than lie to his captain (which… 🥺)

Though… now I’m thinking about that one post about two characters undressing each other and finding more and more concealed weapons, to a comical degree, and I’m just imagining Soap stripping Ghost when they sleep together for the first time and he keeps pulling out knife after knife.

The first few are expected. The next few are a little funny. The twenty-three after that are probably cause for concern, but Soap is just as messed up as Ghost, so he thinks it’s the hottest thing in the world (he’s objectively right). Ghost just stands there and lets it happen, grinning the whole time because if there’s one person on earth who would find the situation equal parts amusing and attractive, it’s Soap

[interneteclipse]

my thoughts on Sevika in act 3 + her overall character

[spoilers]

if arcane was modern she’d actually be so done with how much medical insurance she’d have to pay for with how many arms she’s lost but that’s besides the point

Sevika is so loyal, but I find the emphasis on Silcos chair in the episodes she was in really interesting in act one.

1) her insistence with Jinx carrying on as Zauns symbol of freedom like she isn’t perfectly capable and overqualified herself. Maybe she isn’t as known, but she’s been doing the works for way longer

2) Sevikas MO always being either clearly stated by her or her actions reflecting on that— ex: cleaning up Silcos messes for the sake of Zaun, trying to get Jinx to come back for the sake of Zaun, rallying people up regardless of their own political groups… for the sake of Zaun

With all this, she dgaf about Silcos chair— she only ever cared about keeping Zaun united and free at some point. Jinx cares about her home and its struggles (to a degree), which is why Sevika teamed up with her after Silco.

The thing about Sevika is she’s so aware about what’s realistic and what’s not in her course to making Zaun equal— she knows realistically Zaun would lose to a less militarized group of enforcers because of how powerless of a place they are due to their circumstances, but that’s the thing— she knows

So I find it so interesting that she ends up in a place higher than the man she served under for god knows how many years of her life to be the first Zaunite person on the council. Honestly, I wish we could’ve seen how that went down because I’d imagine she saw an opening for the good of Zaun and took it since that’s what she always does— even then with the whole war on Silcos chair, she cared more about Zaun being under the wrong hands than anything

But that’s a little food for thought 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[gayhorrorsans]

Inspired by this post - @dustcrumbs

Tw: Mentions of self-injury (scratching arms, thighs, skull, eye) + Passing mention of skipping meals.

Next post: here

Horror is deeply insecure about losing his past, anything he loses about himself he deems as a loss equivalent to losing his brother, which in itself, he hates. He hates how he views an inanimate, or figurative, thing as equal to his brother in terms of Importance. He wears a different jacket to what 'sans' wore, but he still has the past one in his wardrobe.

He tries to preserve it's perfect attributes. Especially when compared to his other clothes that he takes no care for, throws them in the washer every now and again. That's about it. He clings on to anything that's reminds him of his past self, a bottle of ketchup, a receipt from Grillbys. His old balled up duvet. He can't bring himself to throw any of it away, no matter how harassed he gets by Nightmare or Killer or Dust or whoever.

It causes something in him to snap, he prides himself on being the most sane member of the bad sanses - which says a lot about their overall sanity - but messing with those few things causes him to break down. And if he finds someone attempting to damage or throw one of those things he clings onto away he will not hesitate to fight.

This has lead to past altercations. Including with Nightmare. All Horror sees is someone taking or damaging his past self. Who the person is is irrelevant in that moment, he will fight until he passes out from exhaustion, or is restrained to the point he can't move. It's an issue he never gets better with, the only thing he hasn't improved on since he's joined Nightmare's gang.

But when it comes to figurative things like forgetting things, including his friends names, his own birthday and most recently, knowledge. Horror typically breaks down, crying, stressing and pulling and scratching at himself. He never uses anything to do this with, just his hands - which are more like claws - he'll scratch his skull crack and eye socket. Sometimes his arms and thighs, scratching until he's called to do something, caught, or until he can't do it anymore.

This isn't as bad as when his physical items are damaged or meddled with. But in some situation can cause him to lose extreme amounts of magic, which visibly appears to be blood. And, in one particularly bad situation he scratched his eye, reducing his already limited vision by 25%.

------------------STORY AHEAD-------------------

But the hardest hitting one was Horror's knowledge. He had been reading a book -one out of Nightmares library - when the words became sort of fuzzy, it wasn't his vision but the words seemed to dance about the page, not in a hallucinatory way. The words just didn't make sense. When he could read a fixed line, it made no sense. This was basic stuff for 'sans'. Integration, Differentiation. Calculus, advanced mathematics, but basic considering he did have a Doctorate in Mathematics. Why were things making sense?

Other books Horror took from the library didn't make sense. Not Math. Not Science. Not Ethics. Nor Philosophy and Law. Sans was a well educated man, he had numerous bachelor degrees, Masters and PhD's. Yet for all those that he had spent years studying, they made no sense. He forgot basic stuff, justice. What is justice? What was 5*5?

The sudden reality of it all crashing down on him. He had taken dozens, nearly even a hundred books from the library, trying to understand things. But ever time he read and didn't understand, he would stress more. He spent no time working out and training. He would skip meals every day, and eventually it became clear, he was growing slightly slimmer and was overall weaker. Not to mention Nightmare had taken note of his missing books.

So naturally he went to check on Horror, as he can't have anyone losing their strength. Horror was a weeping mess on the floor, crying, scratching his eye socket, crack, thighs, arms, eye. Anywhere he could scratch he would cycle between. His crack had grown slightly larger, in fact it was so bad now his left eye socket and crack were less than a centimeter from meeting. He caused a little damage to the eye itself, but not too much. He was looking at about 6 books ranging in topics. Ones Nightmare had never read, he preferred fiction to non-fiction, unless it was history.

Horror's state was horrifying - pun potentially intended - Nightmare had never seen him like that before. Sure he'd seen Horror get violent, but not emotional. It's mainly Dust and Killer who had seen him like this, but it had never been this bad. But Nightmare had felt Horror's negativity. And he had noticed the books missing. So he had some inkling of an idea.

"Quit that. What are you doing?"

Horror whipped his head around to look at Nightmare.

"Wh-whoa Boss. S-sorry I uh- didn't see you there" He scratched the back of his head this time, acting nonchalant, as if there wasn't blood pooling down his face to indicate there was certainly something wrong. "You should really knock heh-"

Nightmare thought. Excuses. That was one thing Horror certainly had left of sans, extremely convenient excuses or distractions from the topic at hand. "You know I can tell when somethings wrong. Not to mention you pick at your wound when you're overwhelmed. Why not at least verbalise your worries to me?"

Nightmare looked down at the ground, where bits of skull lay. It was a shock Horror could literally rips bits of his skull off. It's not easy to rip bone, even if the bone itself is already damaged. Horror makes it look easy. "I can heal your wounds. But I'd rather prevent them. And I can't bring your skull back to its normal state. So I'd rather prevent you from ever picking at it again. How about you speak about it as I clean up?"

Horror felt his wounds heal as Nightmare gently whisked magic over them. His skull wouldn't heal much, if at all. But he was alive. He was embarrassed though. He was a grown man who can't read a book and can barely understand basic maths and general knowledge. "You... won't tell anyone?"

"I'll kill anyone who overhears."

Comforting I suppose. Horror sighed, clutching his knees. "I can't... Read. Nor understand basic arithmetic or knowledge. I even robbed a children's book and I couldn't understand that. It was like... ugh. I have an education. I can't even understand 5*5 and know what a stupid word means... This is so embarrassing." He hid his head in his knees somewhat, talking between his knees with his mouth slightly covered, muffling his words a little, but not significantly.

"I can't read the covers. The images don't make sense. I used to do this for a living and now I can't... even understand what something is. Regardless if I know how to do it. I'm a grown man who can't read. I've tried. I'll never learn."

Nightmare thought for a second, but not too long as not to make Horror think Nightmare believed he was stupid. "Dont be so pessimistic. That's my job." He seemed oddly proud of his role of negativity. Creeping Horror out slightly, Nightmare even when teasing was still creepy. "Why do you wanna learn? You've never expressed an interest in reading since I've known you. A good few years now eh?"

"It's... one of the last things I have of him. Of sans. I can't lose him, I defend every bit about him with my life, and I can't risk losing him. He's my past. My perfect past..." Horror hyperventilated a little, but finished his little speech before it hit too bad. Great, another existential crisis.

"Well, you don't have to. I learnt how to read. Not quite all the... other stuff. That's not my area, but I did learn how to read on my own." Well this was music to Horrors ears, he could barely contain himself as Nightmare described his past. "Yeah I never had a teacher so I had to do it all and... ...was alone... ...helped... ... and yeah. It was hard and I struggled but I did it." Nightmare had spoken for about 5 minutes, Horror registered 25 seconds of it.

"Teach me." Nightmare looked at Horror like he was dumb. "Teach me. I want to learn I can... I can preserve him... Sans. Please."

Nightmare paused. "Fine. But don't see this as an act of kindness. I'm only helping you because you'll be able to read about.. new weapon making. Yeah."

[rubyclover]

I said I can’t write but if felt nice getting that other idea out of my head. So I wrote this and will post. Technically I started trying to write this like a month ago… Please ignore the constant switching between past and present tense. It’s something I never seem to notice until someone else points out where it is.

Prompt: Professionals hate him but he was right! [Adam] Heaven and Hell come to the realization that The First Man played a larger part in the three realms’ political/social ecosystem than they thought. His absence leaves a vacuum that Lute is unable to fill but she may not need to because Hell is solving the problem themselves… The Morningstar Family can’t run from this.

No ABetaO we expire like Adam~

Imagine that Adam dies, the hotel has never looked better, the residents have healed up and Charlie gets another TV appearance. Lucifer is even more depressed than before but hides it. Adam is gone She’s going to reveal Sir Pentious’ redemption with evidence that is NOT childishly scribbled on key cards. Instead of the interview taking place in the 666News studio it’s held outside the hotel. She will take questions, live, right after the interview. Katie Killjoy wants to give the public a chance to cause chaos for ratings, so she puts Charlie in a vulnerable position.

Things go great… for the first 20 minutes. The interview isn’t even half way done when someone from the crowd interjects after Charlie says ‘The Sinners have a better life now that the Exterminations are permanently canceled.’

That person’s voice is calm but still pissed as Hell. They fire back that no, Sinners don’t have an easier life now that the Exterminations are over. It’s worse! Charlie and the crowd perk up.

The voice moves to the front. They’re short with plain street clothes, hood up. It’s obvious they’re poor and at the bottom of Hell’s pecking order. A couple of Imps are with them equally disheveled and tired looking. The man goes on to point out some rather hard truths.

Thanks to the last Extermination, angelic steel has become a hot commodity. While uncommon right now, there’s a pipeline to obtain an angelic weapon. All you need is enough money. Carmilla Carmine doesn’t care about how her product is used after purchase.

‘Permanent Murder’ is a new trend on HellTube netting ridiculous profits. The main targets are vulnerable Sinners, usually the scared and alone new arrivals, Imps and Hellhounds. All killed by beautifully glowing angelic weapons.

Overlords are more formidable with these weapons so the chance of contractees escaping, like Angeldust, has become damn near impossible even if they destroyed their contract. Some desperate souls were happy with their messed up immortality. It gave them some hope, ‘at least I have a chance to turn things around eventually,’ but that pathetic security is gone.

The Exterminations kept said Overlords in check to a degree. They were more inclined to take care of their underlings because that guaranteed their safety. Now? Just get an angelic gun for all your troubles. Valentino is having a fucking field day.

The ‘permadeath’ toll for one year will be ten times the amount of one Extermination Day considering how much Hell’s citizens like to kill Sinners…

Not to mention, whole industries in Hell, from top to bottom, are starting to crash. Their purpose or sales revolved around the Exterminations. Some workers cannot afford to lose their job and have to sell their soul against their will.

Etcetcetc

As the man speaks Charlie is surprised to see heads nodding in agreement! Someone comments that they hadn’t seen their Sinner friend in a few days and tries not to panic while another face falls in the crowd and wrings their hands together. An Imp with curved horns standing beside a young Hellhound sweats profusely and starts to leave. Tension moves through the public. Not just the ones in front of the stage but also those watching TV.

Despite her best efforts Charlie cannot lift the crowd’s mood. She realizes prematurely revealing Sir Pentious’ redemption is the only way to salvage this growing disaster. Unfortunately the man’s timing is perfect because the second she opens her mouth he turns his anger on the Morningstars.

He calls out how much her family misrepresents themselves as rulers. They don’t do anything for Hell anymore. They spend most of their time fucking around while the Sinners suffer. The other Sins manage their rings and hellborn, not Lucifer or Lilith. All three of the Morningstars can’t truly understand human suffering yet they profess to know how to best handle it. With no idea what it means to be human yet they pass judgement on them.

The crowd becomes agitated and the Imps beside the man move closer to him. They aren’t trying to draw safety from the Sinner but are taking defensive positions. Charlie realizes this isn’t someone speaking up in the heat of the moment. This is a planned speech. He’s highjacking her broadcast!

She sees the Sinner clench his fists and feels herself start to sweat. Why was he saying any of that? Yes, life will be a bit hard at first but now everyone can come together and rebuild! There are so many possibilities available to The Pride Ring. It would improve lives. Change was always good they just had to be careful. Yet the stranger goes on.

He claims that Lucifer is a washed up angel that can’t comprehend mortality because of his maladaptive dreaming and pride, Lilith is apathetic to Sinners and wishes to aggravate Heaven no matter how much Hell will suffer and Charlie is so sheltered that she thinks PTSD can be solved by clapping and saying positive affirmations.

Little is known about the royal family but the stranger’s comments sway the crowd. The hotel’s original commercials got the time of day because of Charlie’s status, not because the facility had managed to accomplish anything. Lucifer barely appears at all even when large fights break out leveling half of Pentagram City. And Lilith? Missing for 7 years after riling up all of Hell multiple times, causing Heaven to start the Exterminations.

The stranger calls the hotel a disgusting joke. Calls out how Charlie is trying to ‘pass the buck’ over to Heaven. The Pride Ring’s actual rulers are Overlords and they make sure Sinners suffer and continue to act depraved whether they like it or not. Her family has the power to take control and lessen the city’s suffering but they don’t. Instead they play with their little pet project .

Why are they focusing on shipping problems elsewhere? There’s a better way to solve the pain and suffering at the source than waiting! Fix Pentagram City! Show Heaven that the current number of Sinners isn’t a threat!

‘For all the crying and sniveling you do Princess Charlotte, you sure don’t actually help where it counts! I’m sure you care about Sinners but only on the same level as someone cares about cute public park ducks.’

Vaggie, who had been standing to the side of the stage leaps forward, places herself in between the stranger and her girlfriend. Everyone’s raised emotions have put her on edge. She ignores the harsh gasps when her angelic spear slides free and into her hands. ‘Back up! Now!’

Charlie’s heart sank at the escalation. She understood her girlfriend was still tense from the extermination but all their hard work was starting to fray around the edges! She just hoped her dad didn’t-

The King of Hell himself appears through a portal shortly after gathering himself together. The opening looked angrier in color, matching his mood. Sickly green lines run throughout the glow, radiating blistering heat. Parts of the stage began to melt and the forgotten camera crew swivel to their ruler. Lucifer’s face is set in stone but his bright flickering eyes give him away.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He snarls, apple topped cane slamming onto the stage causing some of it to splatter. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter that way.’ Lucifer’s face morphs into a more demonic grimace. Katie Killjoy scrambles from her chair and off the stage at the same time as Charlie vaulting up to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder whispering ‘dad no!’ She doesn’t want the hotel’s improved reputation to evaporate. A confrontation with someone on live TV would scare people away!

Lucifer growls in the back of his throat, looking at where he assumes the bastard’s eyes are under his hood. Smoke and embers sizzle out from the corner of his mouth and inbetween teeth. He hated acting this way but he had an image to uphold. ‘Answer your King you wretch. Don’t confuse my inaction with benevolence. You’re testing my patience!’

After a beat or two of staring each other down the stranger has the gall to ‘tsk’ off to the side as if spitting. ‘As you with your majesty. It’s all fine by me.’ A small, scared hand reaches up and whips off the dirty hood exposing his face to all of Hell.

People instantly whip out their phones. His face is shockingly similar to Lucifer’s, in fact a basic carbon copy sans a few attributes.

Cameras catch alabaster skin and soft, blond, curly hair, short, wiry build, vivid green eyes, pale coral cheek markings, pointed ears and four demon wings the same color as his skin.

Leaf green eyes stair directly into Charlie’s while electing to ignore both fallen angels. He stands ramrod straight. Cutting a regal silhouette despite the filth on his body and clothes.

‘My name is Cain Adamson, The Wandering Star.’ He bows in a fashion Charlie hadn’t seen in all her galas. ‘Lucifer Morningstar’s first born and bastard son. It’s nice to finally meet you sister mine… I’ll be taking your family’s crown for my father.’

[So in this AU Cain rescued Adam’s body and resuscitated it. They had a familial bond even when Cain got banished for murdering Able and found out his bio dad was Lucifer. Eve didn’t pay much attention to her first born out of guilt so Adam stepped up. No one shamed her. Adam never felt like Cain was separate from his other kids even though he looked nothing like him. Now Cain wants to provide for his father who’s trapped in hell and in really bad condition by booting the Morningstars out of power in the Pride Ring.] Dunno about pairing but Adamsapple or Guitarhero would be a safe bet. Either way Lucifer will suffer lol

[wtf do I call this? Family Feud AU? Chessboard AU? Secret Brother AU? Idk h e l p ]

[featherdusterbelphie]

MDNI: overstim, creampie, virginity loss (on both sides ehe), premature ejaculation...

Thinking about virgin gojo....but with an equally virgin reader hmm...

Like,

He's all arrogant about it, boasting about having a five digit body count and being so experienced in sex that he might as well have a doctorate's degree for it!

Obviously, he's lying. He's never even been close to a naked body before (other than that one time Shoko invited him over to her mentor's morgue), he blushes just by being near you, and all his "knowledge" comes from the hentai that he beats his cock with while imagining was you and him.

So when you finally agreed to fuck him? Oh, his heart might as well be winning a boxing match with the way it's trying to beat out of his chest. The entire time, he plays it up with charming smirks and playful remarks, acting all tough while the stress and nerves makes him want to puke on himself

But he won't ruin this. He can't.

He knows you're inexperienced too. His heart can't handle the way your brows pinch, mentally preparing for disaster and he doesn't want that. He wants to make you feel special just like you deserve. He wants to so badly guide you and give you the pleasures he knows only he can give you. Problem is that the moment his flushed, angry cock is finally buried inside you after a minute of struggle, he feels that familiar feeling at the base of his length and he has to take deep, measured breaths just so he won't come before you

And you, beautiful, precious you, is equally trembling and tense below Gojo's tense looming body. You've never had anything like that inside you, your fingers never enough, and he's so big and reaching so deep oh god.... It feels so good and overwhelming you can't help but squirm which stirs Gojo's length deeper inside you, which stimulates him way too much way too fast and his shaking hands try to grip on your hips to still you but once his tip grazes that spongy spot inside you that makes you clench around him- yeah, he's a goner

Gojo's now no longer a virgin as he trembles on top of you, drool drilling from his wide mouth while his cock spurts thick torrents of his warm cum, filling you up and triggering your own orgasm, clamping tight around his length and he swears he might've died and ascended right there

At some point his body gave up on him and he fell on top of you, tired and shaking from his sudden orgasm. Both of you just lay there, a sweaty, fleshy mess of overstimulation but something in the back of Gojo's mind still feels like this is a win.

[colourstreakgryffin]

since the shinazugawa brothers are my skrunklywunklybadopsies can i request a softyan!platonic!Sanemi and Genya hcs with a littlesister!reader who's mitsuri's tsuguko, basically a total sweetheart and proof that life is easier when your drop-dead gorgeous and have a fuckload of suitors but god had to be fair and make her a literal dumbass 😭+ tell me that Sanemi the type of brother to scare the everloving crap out of any dude that flirts with his sister

(anyways hope u become the most fabulous bitch around with a smoking hot partner who's like iguro and fat stacks of cash 💕💕😍😙)

Abkwiejsndjsk. I want Obanai so bad, don’t remind me. Leee criiiii, but anyway. Sanemi and Genya, right? Okay, I’ll try to the best of my capabilities for you, darling!

Yandere! Platonic! Demon Slayer Scenarios: Shinazugawa Sanemi and Shinazugawa Genya

The Shinazugawa Brothers were already way too overprotective over you from the beginning, this situation has only elevated their protectiveness… they lost everybody, besides you. Sanemi feels obligated to be with you and Genya all the time as you two’s older brother and Genya feels required to guard you in assistance of Sanemi

Neither brothers were okay with you becoming a slayer but they couldn’t resist your begging and your excitement over being a slayer, hurting you in anyway is not something they’ll tolerate so they end up reluctantly letting you join Genya to final selection as Sanemi becomes the Wind Hashira

When the Love Hashira, Mitsuri takes you under her wing as her loveable Tsuguko and accidentally ends up bringing in so many suitors for you after making you stand out so beautifully, your older brothers flip their shit and almost try to pull you out of Mitsuri’s care

Sanemi and Genya have a very similar view on you. They both love you so much and they can’t stand you getting taken away by anything so they both develop a maddening obsession with protecting you from the world itself. The world is a danger now, and they both will make sure they won’t lose their only remaining sibling

Sanemi chases away the many suitors that try to woo you from the sidelines as Genya pulls you from them physically, asking why you want to be wooed by some weirdo. Yes, both of the brothers have been following you and stalking you as often as they possibly can with their sanity-destroying mindset over you

Genya is very clingy and will never let go of you no matter what, whilst Sanemi just guards you like a aggressive father wolf guarding his babies. To them, you are far too young to get a husband and because you’re a slayer, those men could potentially be trying to exploit you

The Shinazugawa Brothers are equally delusional over your view on them, they genuinely believe on a shared level that you love them dearly. They can’t recognise the way you stare at them afraid of their extreme possessiveness and overprotectiveness over you. You can barely recognise Sanemi and Genya as your big brothers

Sanemi doesn’t want either you nor Genya to be a slayer but he is attachment over you two has grown to such a intense degree that he can’t keep himself away from you two anymore. You are his life and love, he needs the both of you with him and he will do whatever he must to keep that

Your formerly beloved big brothers never won’t ever try to ruin your beautiful, cheerful nature by making you find out about their dastardly tricks as your optimistic personality, in reality, keeps these brothers teetering at the edge of sanity but neither can stand the fact you’re very dimwitted, despite being so skilled and incredible

Sanemi doesn’t only just scares anybody that tries to talk to you, he sends death threats and raises his katana at them. Genya isn’t as bad as Sanemi, he is just more touchy and shovey over you as he will never let anybody touch you and barks them away

“Dokusha, don’t do anything stupid! Okay? I can’t lose you nor Genya, my life runs on you two… just… don’t mess up! I will make that bubblegum-haired idiot guard you if I must!”

“Little sister! Wait! Why are you going to go on a date with that guy? He seems a bit dangerous… you should just stay with me and Onii-san forever, you don’t need a man anyway!”