#like. that is so completely reasonable oh my god

[withlovemark]

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? 😛

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there in irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING  

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.  

You didn’t notice him watching you.  

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.  

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.  

He felt something tighten in his chest.  

God, you made him feel strange.  

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.  

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.  

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.  

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.  

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.  

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?  

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.  

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.  

His response came almost immediately.  

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.  

You: Are you sure? 

Pedro: Obviously.  

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.  

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.  

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.  

Pedro noticed.  

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.  

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.  

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.  

And then, of course, there was the teasing.  

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.  

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."  

He smirked. "Clearly."  

"Don’t judge me."  

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

Your heart stuttered.  

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.  

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.  

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.  

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.  

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."  

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."  

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.  

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.  

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.  

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”  

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.  

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.  

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.  

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."  

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."  

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."  

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.  

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.  

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.  

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.  

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.  

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."  

You told yourself not to react.  

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.  

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.  

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”  

You had only sighed. “I know.”  

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.  

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.  

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”  

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”  

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.  

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”  

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.  

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.  

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.  

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”  

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.  

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.  

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”  

His brows knit together. “You okay?”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”  

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”  

Pedro didn’t look convinced.  

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.  

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.  

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.  

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.  

Neither of you spoke for a moment.  

Then—  

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.  

You hesitated.  

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.  

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.  

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”  

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”  

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”  

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.  

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.  

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.  

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”  

Cecilia.  

You felt your whole body go rigid.  

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.  

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”  

You swallowed hard.  

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.  

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.  

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”  

The implication was clear.  

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.  

But then—  

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”  

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”  

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.  

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”  

Cecilia’s smile faltered.  

It was subtle, but you caught it.  

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.  

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”  

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.  

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.  

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.  

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”  

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”  

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.  

Warm. Steady.  

Grounding.  

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.  

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.  

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”  

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”  

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”  

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”  

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”  

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”  

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”  

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.  

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”  

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”  

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.  

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”  

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”  

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”  

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.  

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.  

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.  

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.  

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.  

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

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”  

Pedro stopped walking.  

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.  

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”  

You swallowed.  

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.  

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.  

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.  

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”  

A lump formed in your throat.  

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”  

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.  

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.  

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.  

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.  

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.  

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”  

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”  

You snorted. “So dramatic.”  

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”  

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.  

Your stomach flipped.  

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”  

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”  

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”  

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”  

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.  

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.  

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.  

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”  

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”  

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”  

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”  

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”  

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”  

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—  

“Do you want me to talk to her?”  

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”  

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”  

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”  

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”  

Something in you wavered.  

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”  

Your breath hitched.  

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.  

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”  

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”  

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”  

“Unfortunately.”  

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”  

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.  

“Hey,” he murmured.  

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.  

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”  

Something tightened in your chest.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”  

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.  

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”  

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”  

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”  

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”  

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”  

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.  

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.  

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.  

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.  

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.  

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.  

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.  

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”  

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[maspers]

Oh! You're asking about Outer Darkness. Let's see if I can help out. Disclaimer tho I'm just a random guy on the internet so be aware that my personal understanding of my faith could be coloring my explanation somewhat, despite my efforts not to.

First: yes, as the existence of such a place implies, we do believe in a possibility for eternal punishment. If we're talking about permanent hell, this is the place. The reason tons of LDS folks like to act like it doesn't is because 1) it sounds nicer and unfortunately people care too much about their reputations and 2) the chances of going to Outer Darkness is like. ASTRONOMICALLY small.

There's an old joke that if you ask a Mormon what happens after you die, they'll draw you a map (as opposed to a Catholic who will tell you to ask your priest and a Protestant who will tell you to ask your Bible, iirc how the joke goes). And honestly, it's true. LDS theology has its afterlife occur in multiple stages. The Spirit World is when you go where you die. But EVENTUALLY Jesus is gonna show up again (probably at the end of the apocalypse because dramatic timing) and EVERYONE is gonna get resurrected. And while the resurrecting is going on there's like a thousand years of awesomeness and getting some last-minute ordinance work done. Shenanigans ensue, everyone teams up to beat up Satan one last time (long story) and THEN and only then do we get to the Final Judgement, when it's FINALLY decided where people are going to be for eternity.

At every point BEFORE the final judgement, everything is ultimately temporary and can be forgiven or whatever because Jesus is awesome. Immortality is a guarantee for literally everyone, and even the people who DONT repent and become good people will still get a spot in a Kingdom of Glory, which even the lowest is referred to as better than anything humanity can comprehend (LDS folk don't do what they do because they want to get into Heaven, they do what they do because they want ALL THE PERKS). Getting into a Kingdom of Glory is essentially the DEFAULT.

But, at the final judgement, it IS possible for someone to do something that can never be forgiven. If you stand at the final judgement, with a perfect knowledge of EVERYTHING (because like, it's the final judgement, your entire past and the past of the UNIVERSE is laid out in front of you, you have complete understanding of what the universe is, how it works, and God's role in all of it) and then essentially give God the middle finger and say "screw you God, I hate you and deny you and everything you stand for"... He still won't send you to Outer Darkness. You have to do that to Him, AND Jesus, AND the Holy Ghost (LDS folk believe they're separate people, not a long story but not worth going into here) and basically also give literally every thing that's good the middle finger as well in the process, because ultimately everything good in the world comes back to those three. Then, and ONLY then, will you be declared a Son of Perdition (though really it should be "Child of Perdition" now, the term originates from scriptural text, obviously people who aren't male could still in theory become a Son of Perdition) and you'll go to Outer Darkness to chill with Satan and be depressed for eternity. I cannot emphasize enough that the people who go to Outer Darkness will go there of their own free will and choice, with a perfect understanding of the decision they are making. Despite what some people might tell you (and what some very stupid LDS folk might believe) Mormonism is heavily built on the concept of free will, and getting sent to Outer Darkness is no exception. You only go there if you WANT to.

And honestly, that's a REALLY stupid thing to do? The amount of people who will end up as Sons of Perdition is INSANELY small, especially compared to the amount of humans that have lived and will live. In all of scripture we only know of to meet the criteria is Cain, and he was only able to meet the criteria because of the unique circumstances at the start of Genesis, it's pretty much impossible for ANYONE to qualify during mortality, or at any other point before Judgement. Cain just is Like That I guess. (Incidentally Cain will explicitly RULE the place, because Satan is a loser and doesn't have a body so he can't be in charge). Some people claim Judas Iscariot also qualifies but that's not backed up by any scriptural or prophetic text, and frankly that idea doesn't make much sense to me.

The kicker is in theory, Outer Darkness technically isn't permanent either. If a Son of Perdition were to recant their ultimate middle finger to God and everything else, they would in theory be allowed to leave. The only reason it IS permanent is because at that point the idea of spitefully rejecting the glory of God is so engrained in their being that they will never repent. It's become their entire nature. (I'll admit this part isn't stated explicitly in scripture anywhere, for obvious reasons Outer Darkness isn't talked about much in the text, but it can be reasonably extrapolated from what we know about the nature of God and mankind based ON the text).

So TLDR: Outer Darkness is a thing in LDS theology, and so is Eternal Punishment, but the only people who go there LITERALLY ask for it. You're almost certainly not going there. Don't worry about it.

As for how this affects the LDS perception of Hell... like every religion, YMMV. Different members view things differently. Some people mistakenly believe that if you're a member of the Church and then leave or otherwise start being a bad person, you'll go to Outer Darkness. This explicitly isn't the case. But Outer Darkness as we understand it is the part of our theology that most closely resembles the traditional Christian idea of hell (though with less fire and brimstone and more just eternal self-loathing and anger), so if a Latter-Day Saint is referring to Hell as a specific place, then they're probably referring to here.

However, when an LDS person mentions Hell, they could ALSO be referring to:

Spirit Prison, where the people who didn't do All The Right Things in life go when they die. Not as bad as it sounds. Like yeah there's suffering but as we understand it it's probably like the "You feel your sins crawling up your back" thing from Undertale where you're just hating yourself because of your guilt. Regardless of if you stay here or end up transferring to Spirit Paradise, you still probably won't go to Outer Darkness. This takes place before the Judgement (long before) but since it's IMMEDIATELY after mortality it sometimes gets conflated with Hell as "bad place you go when you die"

Spiritual Death, aka what Hell as a concept MOST likely is being referred to by LDS. Literally just referring to a spiritual separation from god. Physical Death is when your body dies (oof) and Spiritual Death is when you metaphorically die by not being Christlike, and can really happen at any time. Jesus, being the awesome person He is, provides salvation from BOTH kinds of death (He breaks the "chains of death and hell") so like. Don't even worry about it. Incidentally, since literally everyone is experiencing some level of Spiritual death right now because we're designed to be flawed during mortality, we're technically all in hell right now! Yayyyyyyyyy. Again, don't worry, this is part of the process, part of the point of mortality is to fail and get back up.

So Second TLDR: Outer Darkness is generally known and understood by LDS communities, but like. We don't worry about it too much. Usually when an LDS folk talks about hell in a religious sense they're talking about the concept of (ideally temporary) Spiritual Death.

"Maspers are you going to cite your sources" No, this is tumblr and I'm lazy. the other LDS folks can back me up and correct me if I'm wrong. Peer review ftw.

seeing people discussing the concept of hell and how cruel the idea of eternal punishment is like, wow! i know this belief system you would love if not for your knee-jerk reaction against its name

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

So High School | Dino one-shot

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem. Reader

tags: angst, fluff, fake relattionship, jenny han romcom coded, wooyoung in slightly negative shade (atinys don't come for me, it was just needed for the plot), bestie yeonjun, changbin special appearance, sports reference (not a lot but i tried)

a/n: It took me a whole semester to write this... (thank you adulting☹️) but this is basically a slightly changed, self-indulgent retelling of To All the Boys I Loved with dino being Peter Kavinsky...

masterlist

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could've just asked, right?" God! He was so insufferable and annoying. And mainly, he was completely irresistible.

Lee Chan, the school charmer. The boy who had every girl in high school wrapped around his finger. The gorgeous, talented football captain with the smile of a prince and lips that were meant to be kissed.

But right now, he was the bane of your existence, and he was getting on your last nerve.

“Just. Shut. Up. Chan.” You manage to whisper between catching your breath.

Chan’s smirk stays intact on his face, which is a mere two inches away from yours. The sun is blazing on the football field, making his fluffy brown hair glisten. His left hand is wrapped around your waist, sending cold shivers down your spine despite the heat. His other hand, the one that had scored a touchdown, is pushing stray hair from your face. His hand stays on your chin, tracing patterns. You’re a mess.

Your hands are clutching tightly around his neck, which is why his face is inches away from yours. The adrenaline of Chan scoring the winning point has brought you running down the stands and into this position. But now that he is here, your legs are giving out.

The initial gasps are turning into whispers and giggles.

“Princess, you can’t keep the audience waiting.” Chan’s voice flows like honey. His eyes are gleaming with surprise and mischief. His smile is bright and wide. He traces another pattern on your cheek, and you flinch involuntarily.

“Y/n, people are getting suspicious…” he sounds more serious as he looks around.

“Wooyoung is watching. You’re close to your goal.” The mischief in Chan’s face has been replaced with bitterness.

Oh, right! Wooyoung, the reason all of this began. The boy you’ve been in love with for the last two years. The boy you wanted to charm and make fall in love with you. The reason you’re currently in Chan’s arms.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea…

“Y/n… come on. It’s not like this is our first kiss.” You look at Chan with daggers in your eyes.

He wasn’t supposed to bring that up. But he has a point…

“Chan, I’m nervous. Can you kiss me…” you manage to say. Chan gulps but leans down.

Three. The smell of Chan’s cologne hits your nose.

Two. Chan leans in, blocking the light from your face completely.

One. His glistening eyes are all you see before his lips crash into yours.

Heaven…

Probably your biggest mistake, and your biggest blessing.

But if you could go back three weeks and redo all of this… you’d still choose this. This moment, this boy, his lips, his warmth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks ago

It was a regular day, with spring around the corner and the sun starting to shine brighter. Longer days and the lack of needing jackets always put you in a good mood.

A good day overall. Until that afternoon in the changing room. You overheard three freshman girls gossiping, and that was the beginning of your misery. "Did you guys hear that Wooyoung is looking for a female lead for his directorial drama..." One of the girls' excited voices traveled through the lockers.

"Oh my! Wait, isn’t his drama a romantic thriller? And he's the male lead!" This statement was immediately followed by a pair of squeals that made you roll your eyes.

"Do you think he’ll conduct auditions?" "Oh, I heard he was going to choose Mina." "Why them when Y/N is there? She’s a senior and she’s acted with Woo before..." "Maybe he’s into Mina? Or doesn’t like Y/N?" "Anyways, let’s see what happens… I hope he opens the audition for all of us. Imagine kissing Wooyoung!!"

And with another set of squeals, the girls exited the locker room, and you came out of the locker you had hidden in. Their conversation left you confused and heartbroken.

You had met Wooyoung during your freshman year theatre club auditions and immediately fell head over heels for the charming and handsome guy. It was no surprise that over half the school was in love with him. He was a sight for sore eyes, and his acting held everyone captive.

Your crush on Wooyoung only worsened over the years. You had tried dating a couple of other guys to forget Wooyoung, but every time the rehearsal for the annual school play began, you would realize that no one else could ever make you feel the way Wooyoung did.

Now you feel stupid about your crush. You kept pining for a guy who didn’t even consider you for his drama. A part of you is hurt; it is like all the hope you had built up in your heart came crashing down. But you still wanted to prove to him that you were worthy of his romance. If not in real life, at least on stage.

Did it sound like an extremely stupid idea? Yes. 100 percent stupid, but you were running on emotions.

Unrequited crushes never made anyone more intelligent, anyway!

The run-through that evening had been suboptimal at best; you were not in your head, and it annoyed everyone else. But you couldn’t care less, as neither Wooyoung nor the drama teacher, Ms. Kim, was there. As soon as the session ended, you ran to your car and went straight to the one person you knew could help you—Yeonjun.

Yeonjun was one of the most popular people in your high school—specifically among the ladies. If not for the fact that you grew up as neighbors since the two of you were three years old and had seen each other go through puberty, you'd also be head over heels in love with Yeonjun.

"What do you want now?" were the first words to leave Yeonjun’s mouth when you showed up at his room door. He’s sprawled out on his bed, watching something on his laptop and munching on chips. He’s not in the least surprised to see you there at 9 p.m. on a school night; he’s made peace with your presence. His parents were so used to you being there and treating you like their own child. This annoyed Yeonjun to no bounds, as he usually lost all single-child privileges around you.

"What's got your panties in a knot, Jjunie?" you inquire as you plop yourself on his bed and munch on the snacks he has. This causes him to groan in protest, but he doesn't take the snacks away from you.

"My date this weekend canceled on me," he says with a pout that makes him look like a baby. You can’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair and smile.

"Why are you smiling at my misery, you psycho?" he complains, further deepening his pout. "Aw, sorry Jjunie, you still look like that little kid I met on the front porch when we were 3." The memory of your friendship immediately makes him smile.

"Okay, enough niceties. Now tell me what you want." His demand makes you roll your eyes, but you do realize you’re here on a mission and need his help, so you refrain from retorting back.

"I need your help," you begin. "With what?"

A few seconds of silence, of you biting your inner cheeks and him glaring at you with his most judgmental expression.

"Spit it out, Y/n."

Sigh. "I need your help getting Wooyoung's attention." Your words lead to Yeonjun choking on the last chip he is eating.

"Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung? My friend Wooyoung? Your drama club partner Wooyoung?" His eyes are bulging like they’re going to drop out of their sockets, and you roll your eyes at his surprise.

"Since when do you like him?"

Ugh, this is feeling like a bad idea. "Since—since freshman year..."

"Holy shit! Y/N!" His mouth is agape right about now. The snacks and laptop are long forgotten.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Because I know you for so long and had no clue. God!" He runs a hand over his hair in surprise, and you just lower your head in shame. It does feel shameful that after all that bold personality you put up, you are ashamed to be yearning for someone for so long. It feels contradictory to the strong, independent woman persona you want to project.

"Okay, I've had my reaction... now let's get to work." Yeonjun sits up straight on the bed, the laptop long forgotten. You are glad he doesn’t make this feel weirder.

Here comes the harder part—the plan.

"I thought we could get his attention by pretending to be a..." you cannot muster the courage to finish the sentence without wanting to jump off a tall building.

"Be a what?" He is eyeing you suspiciously again.

You shrink into yourself more as the word leaves your mouth, "a couple."

The silence after you utter the words is heavy. At least he doesn’t laugh out loud at the idea—that should count as a win, but it doesn’t feel quite victorious as you had expected.

"Y/N... Is that really the only plan you have? Can't you just ask him out like a regular person... he already knows you..." He speaks softly, his words making sense to the logical side of your brain, yet it feels like a punch to the gut. It might’ve been an impulsive idea, but that is all you have for now.

So you gather yourself and heave a deep sigh as Yeonjun looks at you anxiously. "Jjunie... I know it's weird, but I wouldn't have suggested it if I knew a better idea. And it's not about Wooyoung knowing me, it's about him seeing me... you don't need to immediately decide, but please think it over."

Before Yeonjun can say a definite no, you leave his house in a hurry. Poor boy looks so confused as you watch him pout and stare at the wall at what just happened. He is too nice to say no but also a very good friend who would not want to do anything weird, neither do you want to, but something about wanting Wooyoung makes you act all pathetic.

The night is the most restless in a long time. After six hours of tossing and turning, you decide to go to school earlier and work on the new play. After a strenuous day, where you'd almost forgotten about Wooyoung, Yeonjun, and the plan, you run into Wooyoung on the way to your last class. He throws you his classic polite smile and runs down the hall, and it makes your heart drop. He doesn’t even stop to say hi; to him, you'd just be Yeonjun’s neighbor and best friend. The thought makes your stomach churn more, and you decide to catch Yeonjun after his football practice and make him agree to your plan.

And that's how you find yourself power-walking toward the bleachers at 5 p.m. past the hunky, sweaty boys sitting after a tiring practice session. Usually, you'd stay and chat with some of the boys on the team—especially Beomgyu, Heesung, and your favorite Changbin. But today you walk right up to Yeonjun, who looks at you with the utmost surprise.

"Need to talk to you. Now." You sound curt, and he just nods before getting up and leading you to the locker room. It isn’t your first time there, but the place always disgustes you. It smells of sweat, testosterone, and teenage boys. But the conversation is important, so you adjust.

"What's it, Y/n?" He says, stopping in front of his locker and starting to dry his hair with a towel. He looks exhausted, and a part of you feels bad, but you still carry on.

"Did you think about it?"

"About what?" He looks so nonchalant while answering you that for a second, you think you've dreamed your conversation from the previous night.

"Jjunie..." He sighs and faces you fully.

"Y/n, I thought you were joking. Please come up with another idea, please..."

"Yeonjun, it is not a joke. He thinks of me as your friend, and I need him to see me as someone he can date. For that, I need your help. If we pretend-date, he might notice that side of me." Your words leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Y/n, did you maybe consider that you don’t need to do all that for a boy? If someone likes you, they’d see you no matter what..." You sigh.

"Yeonjun, I didn’t come here for your self-love propaganda. I came to hear your answer. If you don’t want to fake date me and help me get Wooyoung’s attention, I’ll find someone else who's willing to do it." He looks defeated. You already know his answer and the explanation, but you want to hear it anyway.

"I won’t do it, Y/n. And I really hope you don’t find someone else for the plan either."

There it is. The blow to your chest. You are disappointed, but do your best to put on a brave face and nod. But before you can say anything, someone calls for him, and you just force a thin smile on your face as he leaves.

When Yeonjun is out of sight, you cover your face with your hands and sigh heavily. Now what...

"I can do it."

The voice comes out of nowhere and startles you so much that you jump out of your skin.

When you look up, there he is at the far right end of the locker room.

Lee Chan.

You know him, but you aren't exactly friends. His reputation of being the school playboy makes you keep your distance from him.

There he is, leaning against the locker with only a towel tied around his waist—abs in full display—as he lazily wipes his dripping wet hair. When you look at him, it makes sense. But you are still unsure of what he said.

"Sorry, what?" You croak out at him.

He straightens up, a smirk plastered on his gorgeous face, and walks toward you. When he is a mere five inches away from you, he stops. You can see his clear-cut abs, water droplets making them glisten. After a good minute, you realize you should probably stop checking him out and force yourself to look at his face (another mistake, because man, is he gorgeous!).

"I said I’ll do it." His face, voice, and words all drip honey.

"Do what?"

"Date you." You are sure your eyes fall out of their sockets at his words. He still smirks, and his eyes gleam playfully.

"What… what do you mean?"

His smile widens as he speaks. "The proposition you offered to Yeonjun now... I can do it. If you're okay with it, that is."

"Oh."

Oh? That’s all you can say!

After making sure you aren't dreaming, you think for a second, and before you can change your mind or regret it, the words spill from your mouth.

"Okay!" His eyes grow big in surprise. He looks devastatingly good when he smiles fully.

"Cool."

The two of you stand there smiling at each other for a while before he clears his throat and breaks the silence. You straighten up and fix your hair in embarrassment.

"Yeah, okay. So I guess we should come up with some kind of agreement... rules, maybe?" Years of watching romcoms gave you the idea, and while you know it is counterproductive, you still want to do it. To have a sense of security.

He raises one of his eyebrows, "Yeah, I guess... whatever you say."

"Okay!"

Why is he agreeing to all of it? What does he get out of it? There are so many questions unanswered, but before you can do anything about it, his phone rings. He answers it with just hums and then turns to leave. You watch him walk toward his locker room and turn around to face you.

"Hey, gotta bounce now, but I’ll shoot you a text and we can discuss the rest of it." You just nod at his words, feet frozen in place. He stares at you for a second before breaking out into a small laugh.

"What?"

"Are you going to stand there and watch me change?" He looks amused. Your face heats up at the implication, and you walk out of there without another look at him.

Only after you go all the way out of the school campus do you question how he will text you and what rules you will lay down.

But there are bigger problems, like studying for the upcoming quiz and memorizing your lines for the play, so you let it slip out of your mind.

Until five hours later when your phone blinks with a text notification.

Unknown Number: Hey Y/n, Chan here!

Your heart leaps to your throat as you drop the play script and pick up your phone to save his number and reply. Just as you hit send, your phone pings with another text.

Yeonjun: Hey, sorry about today... but I hope you understand.

You sigh. In all these years of friendship, you've had several petty fights, but this one feels heavy. You do not like fighting with Yeonjun and hope it will all work out in the end.

Y/n: Hi Jjunie, I am sorry too.

He begins typing immediately.

Yeonjun: We’re okay?

Y/n: Yes!

Before you can switch off your phone for the day, Chan texts back.

Chan: Sooo... came up with the rules yet?

Oh God. Why did you have to commit to that?

Y/n: Not yet.

Chan: Alright. If you're free, we can meet tomorrow and discuss.

Oh! Why is he so interested in this? That’s the question you cannot figure out. But you do not want to throw away the opportunity either.

Y/n: Yeah, I’ll be out of rehearsals at 5.

Chan: Cool. We can meet near the bleachers after 5.

Oh, that was easy!

You know it feels weird to think this would be so easy. The minute you walk toward the bleachers, you can see all the cheerleaders and other girls ogling all the boys playing in the field. And in your years of cheering on Yeonjun, you know that most of the crowd is here for their star player—Chan. Getting to discuss this private matter with him while his fangirls are squealing around him is going to be no easy feat. Not to mention that you have completely forgotten about Yeonjun and the whole team being present. You don’t want him to know that you are going behind his back, especially with his teammate and close friend. He will get to know once the charade is up, but there is no need to rub it in his face this soon. Every minute waiting on the bleachers feels like a lifetime in hell. Your palms get sweaty as more girls gather after classes and their own extracurriculars. You hope Yeonjun hasn’t spotted you yet. Every time it feels like he turns toward the far left corner of the bleachers, you feel your palms getting sweatier.

After what seems like ages, the practice is finally over, and hordes of fangirls slowly trickle out of the bleachers. Now it is time to wait for the man of the hour to show up.

Lee Chan walks toward your seat a good half an hour later with such ease and charisma that it is hard to believe he has just gotten out of hours of rigorous practice.

"Wanted to see your future boyfriend play on the field that badly, huh?" he says with honey dripping from his words and the smug smirk on his face. For lack of a better response, you just roll your eyes.

"Chan, can we just get on with the rules now?"

"I'm pretty sure you already have a curated list you want me to follow, so go ahead, sweetheart." You try your best not to gape at him at the accuracy of his words. You have been so anxious about the rules the whole night that you have prepared a comprehensive list of five points. Without fighting him, you reluctantly give him the piece of paper you have scribbled the rules on.

Y/N + Chan Dating Rules

Do not tell anyone about this arrangement.

PDA: only when Wooyoung or the team are present. (2.a. No kissing. Just holding hands!)

Post each other on social media (posts that can be deleted when the time comes).

Attend each other’s games/shows.

No flirting with other girls (this is exclusively for Chan).

You watch with sweaty palms as Chan reads the five points. His eyebrows raise as if he is questioning them. Truth be told, you are questioning the points yourself.

“Really? You had to write the fifth point?”

He looks up, waving the paper accusingly, and his expression is somewhere between anger and amusement. You were hoping it would lean more toward the latter.

You try to smile and shrug it off, but he just stares at you in disbelief.

Before you can cave in and apologize, he angles himself in his seat facing you. Suddenly, your face is in his palm—a bruised and calloused palm—and his face is alarmingly close to yours. You can see every freckle on his face, the twinkle in his eyes, and the water droplets on his hair from the post-practice shower. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears.

God, this is a gorgeous man.

“Sweetheart, do you really think I’d look at another girl, much less flirt with her, when you are sitting here looking so pretty…”

WHAT?!

Did he say… that! Why?! Am I having a stroke?!

It would’ve been easier to think you were having a stroke, but instead, the tickle on your skin where his palm met your face is telling you that this is real. Lee Chan is sitting here and telling you that you’re pretty. Lee Chan is flirting with you.

And you need to stop it. For your own sake.

And Wooyoung, of course.

So you straighten yourself up and, with every ounce of energy in your body, remove his hand from your face.

“Hey! Rule 1. No flirting unless Woo or anyone he knows is around! How are you already breaking the rules…”

What began as an amused expression on Chan’s face changes to outright laughter.

Chan is laughing at you. And all you can do is recognize how young and charming he looks while laughing.

“Oh—okay, wow. You were serious,” he says in between breaths, stopping his laughter.

“Yeah, I was, idiot!”

He raises his hands in surrender with a big smile plastered on his face. “Alright, ma’am. I’ll follow all the rules from now on.” He ends his sentence with a mock salute.

Eye roll.

“Sooo, you don’t have any suggestions or changes?”

“Nope.” He says as he reads through the rules once more.

Well, that was easier than I thought!

From then on, Chan just agrees to everything you say, and you go through the rest of the rules within the next thirty minutes.

By the time you are done with the list, you are exhausted from sitting and talking under the hot sun in the bleachers. You can’t wait to go home, make some nice lunch, and take a nap. So, you begin to pack your bags and leave when Chan stops you.

"What now?" you scowl, hoping he won't waste further time on your one free day of the week.

"Wow, so grumpy..." he snickers as he picks up your bag despite your very little protest.

"Let me buy you lunch, Grumpy." He says with an easygoing smile, and even though you want to fight back, you don't.

Lunch with Chan turns out to be a pleasant ordeal. He takes you to a small bistro near school, and the two of you chat about anything and everything in the world. You would’ve never guessed that a conversation with a professional pretty-boy jock like Chan would be so rich and funny, but he has a breezy manner of carrying the conversation and making you laugh often.

He drives you back home, and you realize this is the best meal you’ve had with another person, and it has nothing to do with the food.

Chan also officially takes your plan into action by posting a misleadingly cute photo of your lunch on his Instagram. You have no idea when he took the photo, but you look at yourself in the picture, smiling widely at something he had said minutes prior. For the first time, you might actually like a candid smiling picture of yourself. And for the first time since your dad, someone has paused to take a picture of you that you didn’t ask for.

You chuckle as you see his post again, and just as a text pops up on your phone.

Chan: Now that I’ve kept up my side of the deal, it’s your turn to post something.

Oh shit.

You curse yourself for forgetting one of the rules and not taking a picture of him.

Chan: Unless you didn’t think of taking a picture of me…

You facepalm at Chan’s cheeky message and start to whine loudly in your room at your stupidity as Chan blows up your phone with sad face emojis.

Uff... Such a drama queen!

You let your head fall back on your bed, cursing yourself until it hits you... you did in fact take a picture of him that day when he was playing.

Excited at this realization, you immediately begin posting the photo. You can’t help but admire yourself for capturing his sincerity and athleticism so perfectly in your shot.

As you post, you realize how hot Chan is.

Wait, what...

Your phone keeps buzzing with likes, replies from friends, and two texts that have all your attention.

Chan: Mhmmm, good to know my fake girlfriend likes to watch me play… 😉 Yeonjun: Y/n, you're being stupid.

The first text makes you light up, and the immediate next one makes you scowl. You decide to ignore Yeonjun for now and reply to Chan.

Y/n: Oh please, don’t flatter yourself too much. I did it for the plan, just like you.

Chan: Oh.

You see the typing bubble come on and off for a minute until the reply comes from Chan.

Chan: Mine wasn’t for the plan, you just look beautiful smiling.

It is now your turn to go speechless (or rather, textless), until Chan himself ends the conversation.

Chan: Goodnight, princess ❤

Sleep never finds its way back home to you that night, and the thought of Chan’s smile, Chan’s body, Chan’s texts, and Chan himself fills you up until the sun rises.

Two days later, Chan shows up to your drama rehearsal. The previous day, when you saw Wooyoung in your rehearsal, he was polite as always. There is no hint of him even acknowledging the post made by you or his friend. Meanwhile, some of the other girls and guys in the team start subtly teasing. You are crestfallen at Wooyoung's obliviousness and text Chan that you need to do something more to catch Wooyoung's attention.

Chan takes it upon himself to reply with nothing but a thumbs-up emoji to the dozen messages you have texted him, which has you worried that he forgot about the plan. But when you find him sitting in the second row of the auditorium as you get on the stage, an involuntary smile breaks out on your face.

This earns you a prompt scolding from your teacher, causing you to fix your emotions to reflect your character's despair. With only five days before the big show, you don’t want to mess up, so you reprimand yourself for trying to glance at Chan.

The next time your eyes meet him is when the cast is practicing the final bow. You glimpse at him from your position at the center with Wooyoung and Mina. Chan is smiling wide—nothing out of the ordinary for the cheerful and charming jock. Your smile grows as you watch him clap until he has the loudest clap of all.

"Omg, Lee Chan, what a sudden surprise to see you indoors!" Wooyoung’s voice booms across the auditorium, and the claps die down. This finally snaps you out of the trance you had supposedly been in.

Chan seems to cause that every time he is in the vicinity…

You watch as Chan walks toward the stage where Wooyoung, Mina, and you are standing. He is laughing at Wooyoung’s comment—his usual sparkle spilling pure laughter.

"Haha, when did you become funny, Woo? Can’t a friend come to see his friend rehearse his performance?" Chan quips as they shake hands.

"Friends do, yes, but not Lee Chan, the star football player, who practices seven days a week without fail. In fact, didn’t you miss the last Fall show because you had a match in two weeks that you couldn’t skip training for?" Both the boys laugh as Wooyoung finishes, but you are silent in shock. You don’t know Chan is that disciplined and dedicated.

Chan brushes off Wooyoung’s comment, and the guys laugh it out as you stand there smiling.

"Jokes apart, what brings you here, Chan?" Chan looks right at you as Wooyoung asks this question and holds your hand. Before you can process what is going on, he pulls you toward him. You are standing hand in hand with Chan, facing a very confused-looking Wooyoung. Chan looks at you with a beaming smile before he turns to the other boy and says, "I actually came for her."

Wow… he's good!

You gulp as Wooyoung just stares between the two of you, nodding slowly as he tries to make sense of this. You are glad the rest of the cast has almost entirely dispersed from the auditorium by now, as you can feel yourself heat up under Chan’s stronghold and Wooyoung’s sharp gaze.

Eventually, the latter boy starts smiling—slyly. He mimics a salute to Chan.

"Well done, Chan! Can’t believe you landed the hottest girl in our drama group." As soon as Wooyoung says this, you feel your jaw drop open. Did Wooyoung just call me the hottest girl here…? Did that mean he doesn’t like Mina? Did he already like you? Was this whole plan useless…? Maybe I should just tell Wooyoung the truth now...

Just then, as if on cue, Chan’s grip around your fingers tightens, and you turn to look at him smirking at Wooyoung.

"I can’t believe I landed the smartest and prettiest girl in the school either… I knew she was incredibly talented, but seeing her shine the brightest on stage today was amazing! You’re lucky to see it every day..." Chan says each word with deliberate elaboration, all while holding your hand a little too firmly.

The tension that was supposed to come from Wooyoung seems to be emanating from Chan instead... But Wooyoung seems slightly put off by Chan's reply as his smile turns into a grimace. He looks between the two of you and nods.

"Yeah, she’s amazing... Anyway, I need to go. See you guys..." Wooyoung leaves hastily as he is talking, leaving you to glare at Chan. When Chan finally turns to look at you, he is smiling.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Was that comment necessary, Chan?"

"Yeah, it is the truth."

Dammit, he's good... Chan starts leading you out of the auditorium, your hand still in his. "But there was no need to be rude to Wooyoung. He’s definitely the best here..."

Chan stops in his tracks, hearing you. He drops your hand and turns around to face you.

You’ve never seen Chan lose his temper—he is known to be one of the calmest during games, too—but he looks very close to shouting at you. He opens his mouth as if to say something but grunts instead.

After a long sigh, he says, "Alright, it was rude, but he got jealous, didn’t he? Wasn’t that what you wanted?"

You are lost in the words Chan has said that you forget to note Wooyoung’s complete reaction. He does get jealous, hopefully of the right things...

Not wanting to piss off Chan anymore, you nod.

Both of you stay silent the rest of the night as he drives you home from the rehearsal after learning that the bus that should’ve taken you home left while you were picking up your things.

Right as you get down and head toward your house, you hear Chan call your name out and turn to look at him.

"I meant it, you know..." You scrunch your eyebrows, not sure what he is talking about, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I really meant that you were shining the brightest on that stage. I couldn’t take my eyes off you..."

What the...

You gulp and look at him. His eyes are wide, lips pursed together, and tousled hair. He looks sincere and very hot.

You smile. "Thank you, Chan. Good night."

You thought you had experienced all sorts of butterflies there are to be known while acting with Wooyoung in the Fall play, but the tumbling and soaring your heart does at that moment don’t even come close. Maybe this is a bad idea after all...

The following week goes by much smoother than the start. Chan shows up everywhere at school—before classes, during breaks, after school, after rehearsal, and lunch. He chooses to eat with you instead of at the table with his guys. He drives you home the whole week as a show of romance and even brings you homemade meals and flowers. All of which he makes sure to show off in front of the cafeteria or the drama club members.

Honestly, you are loving all the attention. Chan makes your life easier by taking care of your lunches and driving you home, which makes you less anxious about prepping more for the show.

You do your best to watch Chan play and even manage to cheer for him from the bleachers during touchdowns. He is so focused and precise while playing that it gives you chills each time. But the minute the game is over, he comes over to you with a big smile and eyes shining like diamonds. And that is incentive enough to go sit through another game of football for him. Luckily, his big match is a week after your show, and you’d be able to go support him without the tension of the show.

Through all these antics, the two of you are the talk of the school. Most people are very happy for the two of you—except Chan’s fangirls, Yeonjun, and Wooyoung.

Yeonjun keeps throwing glares your way whenever you show up to a game and waits outside your house to talk to you, but you keep giving excuses.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, has taken a passive-aggressive approach by constantly commenting on how theatre kids are better than jocks. He keeps showing off and asking if the football players can sing and dance at the same time like him.

Usually, receiving specific shows of Wooyoung’s talents and him making so many continuous unprovoked conversations would’ve sent you flying to the next galaxy in joy. But now, everything Wooyoung does makes you think that Chan could definitely do it better. And if you are not aware of Chan’s ability at something Wooyoung is demonstrating, you immediately text Chan about it.

Texting—that’s another place where the romance meter has unintentionally gone way up. Chan is always flirtatious with you, calling you "princess" and saying things that he knows will fluster you. But you’ve turned it into a game of who can fluster the other more.

Essentially, the two of you are now competitive flirting, and it is going way better than you could’ve ever fathomed.

As the days to the show get closer, you see Chan less and less.

The text flirtation is going strong, and you often find yourself smiling widely at your phone until someone from the team asks you to join them for rehearsal. Every time you look up from the phone, smiling, Wooyoung turns away sharply—giving away that he was staring at you. The pressure of the show has gotten to him, and he stopped showing off; now he just looks pissed off and exhausted.

You feel bad for Wooyoung and try talking to him. Instead of you cheering him up, he ends up making snide remarks about Chan, and you give up thereon.

Things were going pretty smoothly in your life until the dress rehearsal for the show—one day before the big show.

There is half an hour before curtains up, and you are pacing back and forth in the far end of the green room assigned to you and a few others. Everyone else has gone to grab food or meet someone or the other, while some are rehearsing. You are holed up in the green room trying your best to calm your nerves.

This is not your first show, and definitely not your first as part of the main cast, but no amount of experience seems to reduce the pre-show jitters. The memory of you puking five minutes before going on stage last fall comes back to you, and you can almost feel the bitter taste of anxiety forming at the back of your throat.

But before you could let the anxiety win, you hear someone clearing their throat and turn around to see none other than Lee Chan standing, leaning against a wall, hands in his jean pockets, smiling with his beautiful, kind eyes at you.

The relief that floods through your mind and body at seeing him there is beyond logic, and you do the only thing your entire existence wants to do—run up to him and hug him.

Till that moment, the maximum you both have done is hold hands in public, and you can feel Chan freeze under your embrace for a second before his warm, strong hands wrap around you.

It feels nice... the thoughts, fears, and the anxiety melt away in a second.

You rest your head on Chan’s shoulder, and he rests his head on top of yours.

“You’re going to rock the stage, princess.” He says softly, near your ear, and you instinctively move your head back to look at his face. His eyes are shining, and a soft smile is playing on his face.

“Thanks, Chan.” Your words make him tighten his hug around you, and you just stay there, looking into his beautiful, kind face.

Someone shouts from outside, "Ten minutes, guys!" You gulp and try to look away from Chan, but he lifts your face back to his eye level with his index finger and smiles.

“Y/n, I know you’re nervous, but you’re going to rock it. And I’ll be there for you…” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to lean toward his face.

Three. The smell of Chan’s cologne hits your nose.

Two. Chan also leans in.

One. His eyes are all you see before his lips crash into yours.

Heaven…

His lips feel like the ascension to heaven. Chan is kissing you with such delicate tenderness that it makes you melt further.

The kiss might’ve factually lasted less than a minute, but you felt the pull of his lips, and body into yours for what felt like a millennium.

When you finally pull apart due to breathlessness, both of you are smiling wildly. You notice some of your lipstick is smeared on Chan’s face, and he reaches to fix your face and hair.

"Go kill it out there, princess," Chan says and leads you out of the green room with one little peck to the lips.

All the nerves and anxiety seem to have transformed into butterflies and giddiness as you take your position on the sidelines of the stage.

You are lost in the memory of the kiss when you do not notice Wooyoung come up next to you.

"You know, you should make out before getting your makeup done. It’s disrespectful to the makeup artists and your co-stars."

"Excuse me?" What’s wrong with him? You notice he looks red with... anger. You’ve never seen Wooyoung like this before—at least offstage.

"Are you alright, Wooyoung?" You try to touch his shoulder to calm him down, and he jerks you away.

"One minute to go..." Wooyoung turns to you, face looking bitter. "You know, Y/n, I always thought you liked me. Never thought you’d go for someone like him." His words catch you off guard, but the curtains are going up, and you force yourself to get into character.

The next two hours are a blur—of running around backstage, helping everyone get to their scenes, performing your scenes, costume changes, and all the drama of it!

You always lose yourself on stage, and the sound of the thunderous clapping from the audience is the only thing that wakes you up from that trance.

And this time, you wake up from the trance to see Lee Chan’s beaming, proud face. He’s clapping so hard you’re worried for his palms. It makes you even happier to see the entire team there with him—including Yeonjun, who looks significantly happier than your previous encounters.

After spending the next hour thanking people and changing out of your costume, you finally reach the common halls of the school.

You find Chan, leaning against a wall and waiting for you. He is smiling at something on his phone, and it instantly makes you smile. You walk slowly toward him, careful not to startle him, and try to grab his phone from him. But being the incredible athlete that he is, he manages to turn you around and cage you in his embrace. But before he can snatch his phone from you, you catch a glimpse of what he is smiling at—pictures of you from the stage.

You whip your head to look at him, still snug in his embrace, and find Lee Chan blushing.

“Awwwww, you’re blushing... so cute,” you coo at him. He softens his hold on you as he fights a grin, and you turn in his embrace to pinch his cheeks.

“Chan, thank you…” His eyebrow goes up, as if to say why.

"Thank you... for going out of your way to be... you." He smiles so brightly, and his eyes become shiny. He hugs you tight.

There is a lot to be said between the two of you, but it seems like neither of you want to say anything and just be in the little bubble you’re in.

There is a slight disturbance to this as the sound of boys talking causes both of you to remove yourselves from the embrace and look as Wooyoung and his two friends—Yeonjun and Changbin—walk across the hallway to the parking lot.

Yeonjun makes fleeting eye contact—he doesn’t look pleased to see you standing so closely with Chan, and a lump forms in your throat. Following his line of sight, Wooyoung turns to look at you. He stops whatever he is saying, and his smiling face turns sour. You feel a bit of the bitterness come to your throat, remembering his words before the performance.

“You know, Y/n, I always thought you liked me. Never thought you’d go for someone like him.”

Just when you were hoping the moment would pass and they would walk away, you see Wooyoung whisper something to a very concerned-looking Yeonjun and Changbin, and walk toward Chan and you. Your heart is now pounding against the walls of your throat, and you want to hold Chan's hands, but it feels like an absolutely wrong move.

You don’t need to see Chan’s face to know that he is stiff with tension as Wooyoung glares right at him.

He stops in front of the two of you, crosses his arms across his chest, and says, in the snarkiest tone possible: "Well well well, if it’s not the two dirty little lovebirds."

Wooyoung stares competitively at the two of you, hoping for a reply, but both of you choose to be silent. This encourages him to continue—this time only facing you.

“You know, Y/n, I thought you were serious about theatre. I thought you understood how scared backstage and in the green room it is for a theatre artist. I thought you would know better than to go around kissing playboys in a sacred space like that... I thought you were smart..."

You’ve never seen or heard Wooyoung be so bitter and rude to anyone, and this breaks the expectation and pedestal you had for him over the years to come crashing down on you all at once. From the corner of your eyes, you can see Chan clench his jaws, and on the far end of the hallway, both Changbin and Yeonjun look very tense.

This is all your doing, that’s what your mind is screaming at you. This is not what you intended to do. All you wanted was to grab the attention of the guy you have an impossibly huge crush on. You never thought that your one idiotic move would break up a group of very good friends.

Most of all, you never thought you’d be standing there worried about your “fake” boyfriend’s feelings getting hurt over that of your actual crush, because of whom you’re all in this conundrum.

“Wooyoung, you're not in your right mind now... let’s talk about this later.” Chan’s voice comes out slow, low, and deliberate. You can tell he is speaking through gritted teeth, but his face is the picture of calmness.

Wooyoung scoffs, "Ohh, I am in the perfect state of mind for this, Chan." He smiles mockingly.

"I just couldn’t understand how someone so smart and pretty like Y/n ended up with... you. Or maybe she isn’t as smart as I thought and is just as easy as every other girl you’ve dated." His words are getting sharper and he oozes poison. The arrows from his mouth pierce straight through your heart.

It takes all your energy to not burst into tears, and Chan seems to sense it as he closes the gap between the two of you before replying to Wooyoung.

Chan takes a deep breath as his palms subtly run circles on the back of your arms. You can feel the heat emanating from him.

“Wooyoung, don’t let your bitterness get the best of you. Look, I don’t know why you are acting like this... if you’re jealous, you should’ve expressed your emotions to her sooner. I know you’re saying things in anger, but please stop because neither of us want to pick a fight. We can talk about this when you’re not in a mood.”

Chan is choosing to be reasonable, and you’re praying Wooyoung will too. You wait a beat and another to see Wooyoung scoff. Before he can say another word, Chan grabs your wrist firmly and walks you away from that hallway.

As you walk under the firm guidance of Chan's grip, you heave a big sigh of relief.

There is pin-drop silence as the two of you get into his car and he drives toward your home. You look over at his face, and his usually smiling and bright face is sullen, with his lips pursed tightly. You don't like seeing Chan angry and sullen one bit.

"Hey, Chan..." your voice comes out slowly as he parks near your front door and turns to face you.

You shift in your seat to face him more and reach out to touch his forearm resting on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry, Chan." He raises his eyebrows in confusion, and you proceed to explain. "I'm sorry that I ruined your friend group... you wouldn't have fought if not for me..."

"Y/n..." he sighs and locks his fingers with the hand you extend to him. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. We’ve been through a lot worse. In fact, it’s only considered a fight if at least one of us ends up bruised."

He says that so nonchalantly that it makes both of you chuckle.

"Are you sure, though?" Your worry brings a soft smile to his face as he caresses your face. You lean into his palm and smile.

"Yes, I’m sure. So don’t overload that pretty head of yours with unnecessary worries, princess. You rocked the stage tonight and deserve some good rest."

His words bring a big, unwarranted smile to your face. He always knew how to put your nervous heart to rest.

And in that moment, every single thought of logic goes out the window, and you act on pure instinct. You grab Chan’s face and kiss him. The moment your lips touch his, he takes over. He leads you both toward the romantic swan dance that is your kiss. Chan and you are intertwined at that moment of pure bliss, wanting nothing but to stay this way for eternity, but alas, humans breathe a little too much for your liking then.

So both of you move apart to catch up on your breaths, smiling ear to ear while doing so. Seeing Chan’s smile light up his whole face makes you want to pull him into a kiss again, but your phone begins ringing right then, and you groan as you pick up your phone.

“Oh shit, it’s Mom... she’s probably waiting for me. Shoot!”

You start panic-adjusting yourself when Chan places his hand on your wrist gently. “Hey, breathe. You’re right outside your house... it will take two seconds to go in. Okay?”

You smile and let out a big breath at his calming words. Once you pack your bags and reach to open the door of the car, you feel his hold on your wrist again. You turn around to see his face awfully close to you, his eyes big and glistening.

You raise your eyebrows at him in question, and he says, "Thank you for accepting me to be your boyfriend..." His voice is sincere, deep, and scared. Your own heart is beating at a thousand miles per minute. Before you could begin to think of anything to say, he interrupts. "You don’t have to say anything, princess... If you ever end up feeling the way I’ve felt for years, you know where to find me."

And with that, he himself reaches across you to open the door and gives you a soft smile. You’re too stunned by his confession to form words, so you just pick up your stuff and head home. You might have acted on stage, but having to pretend everything is dandy and normal to your parents is more artistically challenging.

The rest of the night is spent tossing and turning in your bed and replaying Chan’s words. Especially the part where he implied that he's liked you for years. You have already been a wreck with all the negativity with Wooyoung and your hopes getting shattered, but also the happiness with Chan and the multiple impeccable kisses. There are too many emotions swirling in your head, and Chan’s confession only makes the insanity meter go up.

The confusion in your brain is palpable. You type out multiple message drafts to send to Chan and give up eventually, thanking whoever invented the backspace feature.

At the odd hour of 2:45 a.m., you finally give up on sleep and switch on your room lights to try to get schoolwork done. In pure coward fashion, you spent the following two days bedrotting and avvoiding any and every message and call from Chan. Thankfully your excuse of "recovering from the show" seemed to work fine for your parents but Chan kept texting.

Chan: Hey princess, good morning. Hope you're feeling better ❤️ Chan: I want you to take proper rest, but I also want you to talk to me! Chan: Okay, I need to go practice for the big match... talk to you soon The same went on for every session of the day. You could clearly notice he kept texting you whenever he got a break from practice. You felt bad for ignoring him. In fact, you did not understand why you were ignoring. It was clear you liked him too, then what was stopping you from into his arms.

On the other hand, there was the whole mess with Wooyoung. You still had to go back and meet him, after all this. If your plan had gone the way you wanted it too, instead of kissing Chan twice on the day of the show you would've ended the night in Wooyoung's arms and the rest of the year would be paradise in practice.

Instead you're here, pacing in the middle of the ngiht, thinking of quitting your passion just to avoid the tension.

And right as you're about to draft an email to your professoe, a ping from your phone startles you—it's Yeonjun.

Jjunnie: "Why are you awake?"

You look out at his window, confused, only to find the lights in his room also switched on and Yeonjun staring at you. You give him a weak smile, which he returns and gestures for you to open your window. Your smile grows bigger as you pop open the window door, adjust the ladder the two of you had set up between your windows as kids, and watch Yeonjun crawl into your room.

"What brings you here?" you ask as he’s dusting himself off.

He stares at you for a long second and pulls you into his signature bear hug. You let go of all your worries and hug your best friend back—he’s the only one who can see that you need comforting.

After a couple of minutes, both of you settle down on the bed with some chips. He still hasn’t said anything, and you figure you owe him an apology anyway.

"I’m sorry, Jjunie... for everything." He smiles and apologizes back.

After a second, you realize something and whip your head to face your best friend, who had warned you against all this mess.

"You knew, didn’t you?" You couldn’t believe that your speculation could be right, but you had to know for yourself.

He looks confused for a second before he lets out a deep breath and nods. You can feel a big lump forming around your throat and you want Yeonjun to spell it out before your mind jumps into big conclusions, and as your longest and closest friend, he knows this too well.

"Y/n, I told you not to mess with Wooyoung because I knew he’d never treat you the way you thought he would. He is my best friend, but you’re family... I didn’t want you to get hurt. That’s why I told you to stay away."

The hot tears forming behind your eyes are threatening to spill, but you bite your lips and nod at Yeonjun’s words. You couldn’t believe that you lived with an illusion of the person you thought you knew for years. It feels like someone had taken away your pretty-pastel dream box and shattered it into pieces and said that you would never find it again. The lump in your throat is almost suffocating, yet you want to know more.

"And Chan..."

Yeonjun looks at you with a slight smirk, and it irks you.

"Chan was... a curveball I didn’t see coming. Of all the people you could’ve chosen to help you in this charade, I never thought you would choose Chan..."

A smile comes up on your face at the memory of what happened.

"Wait, what..." Yeonjun looks confused at your smile.

"So actually I didn’t ask Chan... after you said no in the locker room... he volunteered. He apparently overheard our conversation and offered to... well... you know..."

Yeonjun starts laughing at the revelation, and it leaves you more confused than you began with, so you start whining for Yeonjun to spill.

"Oh my God! Of course Chan was the one who volunteered! I should've known!"

When he finally calms down, he turns you to face him all serious.

"Y/n, I wish I could tell you everything, but you need to talk to Chan. The only thing I can tell you, though, is..." he boops your nose saying so, "he’s a good guy. Just be patient and talk to him. He should be the one to explain it to youo."

"Oh wow, Jjunie... that was so melodramatic. Just tell me what’s going on, please..." you whine.

"Nah nah nah... I wish... but it’s not my place to. Plus, Chan would kill me." He dramatically enacts being scared, and you playfully hit him in the arm and pout.

"But... I don't know if I want to talk to him. This all happened very bizzarely, one moment I liked Wooyoung and that turned out... not great... What if Chan turns out to be an illusion too?" You can feel your heartrate increase as the words leave your mouth. Yeonjun places his hands on your shoulder to ground you to reality.

"Hey, Y/n, don't be an idiot. Wooyoung was an illusion becuase you were in love with the idea of him. Chan is real! He knows you, and you know him. Just trust me, this is a good thing... I want you to be happy. Just please talk to him. Don't take any stupid decisions on your own"

You sigh. "Alright, I'll talk to him after the big game tomorrow!" "Now that's my girl!" Yeonjun beams at you as you grin brightly.

"Okay okay, you go sleep now. You've got a big game tomorrow Jjunie. And you need to bring your best!" "Aw, thank you!"

And with that, he bids you adieu. Although you are happy to finally make up with your best friend and have fun with him, his words leave boost your confidence.

You decide to finally text back Chan, now that you know what you want.

Y/N: Hey Channie, sorry I couldn't text... was caught up, thinking...

And before you could send all your texts he replies back.

Chan: Oh hi princess ❤️, good to hear from you!

Y/N: Why are you awake? You have a big game tomorrow!!

Chan: Couldn't sleep... a certain someone's silencce was keeping me awake

This drama queen!

Y/N: That's no excuse for an athlete! Y/N: Also I'm really sorry about that... we should talk, but now you need to sleep.

Chan: No sleep is for the weak. All I wanna do is talk! Chan: To you that is

Y/N: We will... after I watch you win the game tomorrow and treat you to victory lunch🥰

Chan: Oohh is that a heart and a smile I see! 🤯 I can't wait to see you tomorrow ♥ Chan: We really do need to talk. Chan: I've been going crazy since that night...

Aw poor Chan...

Y/N: We'll talk... but just know there's nothing to worry about 🥰

The next fifteen minutes is just Chan and you flirting on text until nyou both will yourself to fall asleep. And for the first time in three days, you sleep with a big smile on your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Today Chan's kiss was life-changing.

You did not remember how long it had been since you ran across the field to kiss him, but when you broke apart from the kiss- breathless, you felt like a different person.

Chan's full happy laugh fills you up as he holds your face in palms. He feels like a dream.

"Just so you know... I did not kiss you becuae people were watching... or because Wooyoung was watching..."

He raises his eyebrows at your words, a smirk dancing on his face. "Oh?" You can feel a blush creep up on your cheeks, spreading all over you.

"I kissed you because... I 'm just a stupid girl who thought fake relationships is the way to get someone's attention without realizing that there's already someone who gives me eveyrthing I could ask for and more. I am sorry to myself that I didn't understand that before, but I am happy I have you now... because I love you and I want you to be my boyfriend... for real, no rules or contracts." You manage to finally say, you're heart feeling 10x lighter.

Chan's smile feels like it could light up the whole world.

"I've always been ready to be your boyfriend, princess. I am glad you realized it now... I've been a big simp for too long now. " He jokes as your jaw drops to the floor at his revalation.

"Well, you don't have to stop simping now..." you say cheekily, and he laughs- the sound fillling every part of you.

"I don't plan to princess..." And before you could say anything he pulls you in for another soul-altering kiss.

This time you are force to stop due to someone coughing precociously and both of you turn to face Yeonjun. He's standing there with the rest of the team, all of them smiling at you. You feel so shy you shove your face in your hands and they all start laughing.

"Hey lovebirds, I am happy for you both but Chan needs to egt his ass in the locker room to talk with coach!" Yeonjun shouts as he walks away from the field.

"Yeah Yeah I'll be there!" Chan shouts back mid-giggles.

Hearing him you finally let go of Chan and push him towards the locker. He runs forward two steps then turns back, his big smile lighting up his eyes, walks toward you and gives one more tight kiss before running toward the locker rooms.

This man is straiight out of a romcom I swear!

Things weren't perfect now, you still had to figure out how to face Wooyoung in drama practice. But seeing Chan passionately play today, and realizing how much he risked to be with you even when he knew you liked his close friend, you decided to stick it out and try to fix things with Wooyoung.

There's always time to fix things later, for now you want to stay in the lavender haze you're in and enjoy the upcoming summer break with the most romcom-coded, kind-hearted, and hot boyfriend.

Everything else can come after, but now you're feeling high school at it's best and you're going to live it💖.

[wetcatspellcaster]

*Deep Breath*I wrote a Capaxath poem, as an intellectual exercise. Maybe I should have asked permission first, but I needed to see if I could actually complete something, else I embarrassed myself by having no follow through. If you don’t want to see it, for whatever reason, I won’t send it. But I wanted to acknowledge that you inspired a little creativity in someone else!

bro. BRO!!!!!

WHUT?

anon, why wouldn't I want to see it???? this is insane????? oh my god????

I 100% don't mind people working on things inspired by my silly little fics, I just very much appreciate acknowledgement/heads up like you've given in this message, or the handy little 'works inspired by' link that ao3 helpfully provides in order to stop things feeling like plagiarism. If you want to send me the poem, I'll be extremely humbled and maybe even a little insane about. If you put it up on ao3 or any other site, I'll link it here on this blog with your permission, and on the fic itself in a chapter note :)

if you want to keep it to yourself, that's also totally ok! congratulations on finishing a project :D

I am not a poet despite the English degree (licherally avoided analysing poetry in favour of prose every time) so I cannot promise my response will be clever or eloquent. But you're so right!!!!! knowing that I inspired creativity is wonderful, actually!!! and it's my elf fascist gay man???? WHAT!???!?!?

thank you so much anon, you made my day <3 x

[nameless-jamie]

✨💖 The vibes of your writing are immaculate. And I love your series and the new chapters. Would you ever write about an anxious/ shy reader?

Blush

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! shy receptionist reader

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Are you ready for a looooong one? Thank you for the request! I had a whole field-day writing this because I myself am pretty shy in real life. That's why it is veeery long. I actually also had another few paragraphs of the morning after their date, but I edited it out because I guess it would've been too long.

The AFC Richmond front desk was Y/N’s safe space. She had a whole routine. Come in early, set up at the front desk, answer calls, and avoid unnecessary conversations. She liked her job as a receptionist—AFC Richmond had always felt like a family, even if she sometimes felt like the quiet cousin at the reunion. She had her friends, though: Will, the ever-cheerful kit man, Roy Kent, who, for some reason, had taken a liking to her despite his usual grumpy demeanor and of course Keeley!

Most people in the club were kind enough to respect that she wasn’t the most talkative person, even though it is literally her job to greet people.

Jamie Tartt was not most people.

Jamie was… different. Not in the way Roy was—gruff but secretly soft. Not in the way Ted Lasso was—easygoing and goofy. Jamie was loud, confident, and impossible to ignore. And worst of all, he had somehow decided she was his new favorite person to talk to.

“Alright, love?”

She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. That familiar, cocky voice sent a nervous jolt straight through her. Slowly, she lifted her head, only to find Jamie leaning against her desk, arms crossed, signature smirk in place. It was too early in the morning for that level of handsomeness. Yup, Y/N had a crush on Jamie since she started working here. But, oh no, she would never make a move or even show it.

He grinned. “Hi, Jamie,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “C’mon, you gotta give me more than that. Thought we were mates by now.”

Mates. Right. Because that was a normal way to describe their dynamic—Jamie showing up at her desk every day, teasing her until she was a flustered mess, then walking away like it was just another training session.

Y/N cleared her throat, fingers tightening on her pen. “Do you… need something?”

Jamie tilted his head. “Nah. Just here to check in on my favorite receptionist.”

She bit her lip. “I’m the only receptionist.”

“That’s what makes it so easy.” He winked. “Just wanted to see you.”

God, he was relentless. And it wasn’t just the flirting—it was how easy he made it look, how effortlessly charming he was. Her face went hot instantly, and she ducked her head, pretending to be very interested in the email she had already finished.

Every time he saw her, he had some new way to fluster her, whether it was winking at her from across the hallway, complimenting her dress, or just plain staring at her until she got nervous.

It wasn’t fair. He was a world-class footballer, and she was… well, the receptionist.

Before she could figure out how to respond, Will the kitman appeared, grinning. “Oh, is this the daily ‘Jamie makes Y/N blush’ session? Should I be taking bets?”

“Shut up, Will,” she mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

Jamie, completely unfazed, smirked. “You should. I’d win every time.”

Roy walked by just then, glancing at the scene before stopping. He squinted at Jamie, then looked at Y/N, who was still avoiding eye contact.

“What the fuck is goin’ on here? Is the prick bothering you?”

“Actually...Jamie’s bullying me,” Y/N blurted out and pointed at the latter, because she found it funny how Jamie shrunk in Roy's presence. She can be a tease if she wants to.

Jamie clutched his chest like he's been shot. “Bullying? Me? Love, I’m flirting. If I was bullying ya, you’d be crying.”

“I don't like any of you, but you,” Roy jabbed a finger at Jamie. “Quit makin’ her uncomfortable, Tartt.”

Jamie held up his hands in mock surrender. “She’s not uncomfortable. Are ya, love?”

Y/N hated that the question made her heart race. He was looking at her like she was the only person in the room, like her answer actually mattered.

“No! I mean—well—I—I mean, it’s fine,” she mumbled.

Jamie grinned like she had just told him she loved him. “See? She likes me.” Roy groaned.

Roy let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re both fuckin’ idiots.” Then he jabbed a finger at Jamie. “Quit pissin’ her off.”

“Never,” Jamie shot back cheerfully.

Roy muttered something under his breath and stomped off.

Will snickered. “Roy’s gonna end up chaperoning your first date at this rate.”

Y/N let out a strangled noise. “There is no first date!”

Jamie, though, just smirked. “Not yet.” Then he winked and strolled off, leaving her an absolute, blushing mess at the front desk.

The next few days were worse.

Ever since Jamie’s little not yet comment, Y/N had been on high alert. She tried to convince herself that he was just joking, just messing with her like he always did. But then he started upping his game.

It wasn’t enough that he stopped by her desk every morning—no, now he had to wink at her across the hallway, greet her with a Good mornin’, love like he was starring in some kind of rom-com, and worst of all, he started waiting for her after work.

The first time it happened, she thought it was a coincidence.

“Oi, you’re taking really long,” Jamie said, leaning against the front doors of the clubhouse, arms crossed as she finally stepped outside.

She blinked. “What… are you doing here?”

“Waitin’ for ya, obviously,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “S’not safe for a pretty little thing like you to walk alone.”

Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet. “I—I always walk alone.”

Jamie frowned like this was a deeply troubling fact. “Well, that’s fuckin’ tragic, innit?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Colin and Isaac, who where the last to leave besides the locker room, grinned. “Ooooh, bodyguard Jamie.”

Jamie smirked. “Damn right.”

“You’re not my bodyguard. He's really not.” Y/N muttered in her soft voice, slinging her bag around her shoulder.

Jamie only grinned wider. “Nah, but I could be.”

Colin gave her a pointed look. “You should just let him walk you home. You know he’s not gonna give up.”

Y/N sighed. They were both right—Jamie Tartt was nothing if not persistent.

So, against her better judgment, she let Jamie walk her home.

And then he did it again. And again.

And again.

By the end of the week, it was just a part of her routine, like he had wormed his way in without her even realizing. He’d meet her at the doors, hands in his pockets, waiting for her like he had all the time in the world. They’d talk, mostly about silly things—Jamie complaining about Roy, Y/N teasing him about his shoe obsession, Jamie trying to make her laugh.

And she did laugh. More than she had in a long time.

Which was exactly why it was terrifying.

Because Jamie Tartt was flirty, and charming, and kind, and so out of her league that it was almost funny.

And yet…

She caught him looking at her sometimes. Not in the way most guys did, not like she was just another girl to conquer. It was softer, something she couldn’t quite place. Like he actually liked being around her.

Which was ridiculous. Right?

She was still trying to make sense of it all when, one afternoon, the teasing from the team finally reached its peak.

She was organizing paperwork at her desk when Dani Rojas, Sam Obisanya, and Colin strolled past.

“Sooo, Jamie and the receptionist,” Dani said in a sing-song voice.

Y/N froze. Oh no.

Colin grinned. “Yup, they’d be cute together.”

“I think they are already together,” Sam added thoughtfully.

Y/N choked on absolutely nothing. “Uhm- No actually we are not together.”

Dani gasped. “But he walks you home every night!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

Sam and Colin exchanged a knowing look.

“But you like him,” Colin said, pointing at her.

“No, I don’t.”

“You do,” Sam said. “And he definitely likes you.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but then—

“I definitely like who?”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

The universe hated her. That was the only explanation for why Jamie Tartt had appeared at the exact worst moment, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Dani beamed. “We were just talking about how you and Y/N like each other.”

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t even blink. He just turned to her, a slow, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I mean, I do.” he said, then turned to her. “That true, love, you like me?”

Y/N clenched her jaw, face burning. “I don't like any of you.” She mumbled.

Colin grinned. “That’s not a no.”

Jamie chuckled, eyes locked on her. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll admit it eventually.”

And then, just like always, he winked and walked off, leaving her to suffer.

Dani patted her shoulder sympathetically and ran out the door. “You should just date him.”

“I should just quit,” she muttered to herself.

But we all know she wouldn’t.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t really want to.

Y/N had two choices this next week:

Continue pretending that Jamie Tartt wasn’t blatantly flirting with her every single day.

Accept that she was completely, undeniably screwed.

She tried to go with Option 1. She really did. But then Jamie started making it impossible.

It wasn’t just the daily morning greetings anymore. Now, he even brought her coffee.

“Dunno what ya drink, so I got three different kinds”

He sat across from her at lunch even when she definitely did not invite him, and—worst of all—kept finding excuses to touch her.

A light hand on her shoulder when he walked past. A nudge of his knee against hers when they sat near each other. Once, when she had been carrying a heavy box of paperwork, he had taken it right out of her hands, smirking at her grumbled protests.

It was driving her insane.

She was still overthinking all of it when she got to work one morning and found Jamie already there, leaning against her desk like he had nothing better to do.

She frowned. “Why are you here before me?”

Jamie grinned. “Missed ya, didn’t I?”

Her brain short-circuited. “You—what?”

Jamie just shrugged like he hadn’t just sent her into cardiac arrest.

“I have missed you, did I not." he repeated himself doing his best to talk accent-free, as if she didn't understand him the first time.

"Also, I might’ve left my headphones in the gym. But mostly the first thing.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “You… are insufferable.”

“Yeah, but I assume you love it.”

She did not. Except—okay, maybe she didn’t hate it. And maybe, just maybe, she had started to enjoy their little routine. Fuck, she loved it.

Which was exactly why it was so unfair that Roy Kent had to go and ruin everything.

Because of course, right as Jamie was giving her one of those stupid flirty smirks, Roy appeared out of nowhere like a grumpy, swearing bat signal.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Y/N groaned. “Roy, Hi! Jamie was just—”

“No,” Roy cut her off, pointing aggressively between her and Jamie. “I cannot watch this anymore.”

Jamie blinked. “Watch what?”

Roy let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “This. The fuckin’ pining. The flirting. The lookin’ at each other like a couple of lovesick puppies.”

Y/N’s soul left her body. “We do not do that.”

“You absolutely do,” Roy grumbled pointing at Y/N. “ You're doin' it right fucking now! It’s disgustin’.”

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t even pretend to be offended. He just raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “So, you have been lookin’ at me?”

“I—no!”

Roy groaned. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie said, laughing as he held up his hands. “I get it. You think we should just shag and get it over with.”

Y/N choked. “Jamie!”

Roy looked physically ill. “That is not what I’m sayin’.”

Jamie smirked. “So, you want me to take her on a proper date, then.”

Roy stared at him like he was debating whether or not to commit actual murder.

“I hate you,” Roy muttered. “But yeah, you’re both bein’ fuckin’ stupid, so someone’s gotta do somethin’ about it.”

Jamie turned back to Y/N, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You hear that, love? Roy Kent’s givin’ us his blessing.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Roy let out another long-suffering sigh and turned to leave. “Just sort it out before I retire, yeah?”

Once he was gone, Y/N peeked up at Jamie, who was still smirking at her like she was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen.

“You do like me,” Jamie said smugly.

She groaned. “I am going to throw myself into the Thames.”

Jamie just grinned. “Nah, you won’t.”

Y/N didn’t know how it happened. It was the day after the incident.

One second, Jamie was teasing her at the front desk like usual, and the next—

“So, what time should I pick you up tomorrow?”

She blinked. “What?”

Jamie smirked. “Our date, love. Thought we should make it official, yeah?”

Official. As if this wasn’t already the most humiliatingly obvious crush in all of AFC Richmond. As if half the team hadn’t already been placing bets on when Jamie would finally get his act together and ask her out.

She swallowed hard. “You’re… serious?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Obviously. Been serious since the day I met ya.”

Her brain short-circuited.

“Um,” she said intelligently.

Jamie’s smirk softened into something… gentler. “Look, if you don’t wanna, that’s alright. I can handle rejection. Probably. I actually never been rejected,” He grinned. “But I reckon we’d have a good time.”

She was so screwed.

“…Seven?” she squeaked out.

Jamie beamed. “Seven’s perfect.”

And that was how Y/N found herself sitting across from Jamie Tartt at a very nice restaurant, wondering how she ended up here.

Jamie, to his credit, was being ridiculously sweet. No teasing, no cocky comments—just full-blown, charmingly attentive Jamie.

He pulled out her chair for her. He asked her about her day (and actually listened). He even gave her his jacket when she shivered, despite insisting she was fine.

But now, as she stared at the menu, her anxiety was creeping in.

The restaurant was a bit fancier than she was used to. And while she technically knew how to read a menu, the pressure of making a decision in front of Jamie was immense.

She didn’t want to pick something stupid. Didn’t want to mispronounce anything. Didn’t want to hold up the waiter.

So, when the server came over, she panicked and just pointed at something random.

The problem? It was not what she wanted.

She realized it too late, eyes widening as the waiter scribbled down the order and walked off.

Jamie noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “I… I meant to order something else.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

She swallowed. “I—I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Jamie’s face softened.

“Babe,” he said, voice low and warm, “you’re never a bother.”

Before she could even process that, Jamie waved the waiter back over without hesitation.

“Hey, mate,” Jamie said easily. “Think we got the wrong order—she actually wanted the pasta.”

The waiter nodded, jotted it down, and walked away without a fuss.

Y/N, meanwhile, wanted to melt into the floor. “I could’ve just eaten the other thing…”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. If you want pasta, you get pasta.”

She bit her lip. “I just—I don’t like making a fuss.”

Jamie leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied her.

“I get it,” he said. “But you don’t gotta be scared with me, yeah? I like lookin’ out for ya.”

Her heart did something stupid.

“…Okay,” she whispered.

Jamie grinned. “Good.”

And the thing was—he meant it.

All night, he made sure she was comfortable. He didn’t rush her when she had her shy moments, didn’t tease when she took a little longer to answer. Instead, he just smiled at her, soft and patient, like this—like her—was exactly where he wanted to be.

By the time the check came, Y/N had stopped second-guessing everything.

Because Jamie liked her, exactly as she was.

And maybe—just maybe—she was finally starting to believe it.

Jamie insisted on walking her home after the date.

“You know I always do that, love,” he had said when she tried to protest. “Can’t have ya gettin’ kidnapped, can I?”

She had rolled her eyes, but she didn’t fight him on it.

So now, they were strolling through the quiet streets, their hands occasionally brushing as they walked. Every time it happened, Y/N felt like she was about to combust, but Jamie acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “best date you’ve ever been on, yeah?”

Y/N smiled to herself. “You sound confident.”

Jamie smirked. “Well, obviously. I planned the whole thing, didn’t I?”

She laughed softly. “Alright, I’ll admit it—it was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jamie grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah? Who knew I was a proper romantic?”

“You are,” she murmured, half to herself.

Jamie glanced at her, his smirk faltering into something softer. His voice dropped. “Careful, love. Keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to kiss ya.”

Her breath caught.

Jamie must’ve noticed, because his smirk came back—smaller now, more teasing than cocky. He nudged her shoulder with his. “Relax, I'm just joking, yeah? Not gonna do anything you’re not ready for.”

That was the thing about Jamie—he flirted, teased, pushed just enough to make her heart race, but never too far. He knew her limits, never made her feel like she had to do anything just because it was expected.

She liked that about him. Really liked that about him.

Maybe that’s why, as they reached her front door, she hesitated.

Jamie stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Guess this is goodnight, then.”

She nodded, suddenly nervous.

Jamie chuckled. “You’re lookin’ at me like you wanna say somethin’.”

She swallowed hard, gathering every ounce of courage she had. “I just… wanted to thank you. For tonight.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Was my pleasure, love.”

She took a shaky breath. “It really was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jamie’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

And then, before she could overthink it—before she could let the nerves ruin it—she leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

It was quick, just a press of her lips against his, but Jamie froze like she had just short-circuited his entire brain.

By the time she pulled back, her face was burning. “Um. Goodnight.”

She turned, reaching for her keys, but before she could even get the door open, Jamie’s voice stopped her.

“Oi.”

She turned hesitantly.

Jamie was grinning. Beaming.

“That was—” he said, voice warm and full of love, “you are full of surprises.”

And with that, he gave her one last lingering look before stepping back, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked away.

Y/N stood there for a moment, heart racing, before slipping inside and leaning against the door.

She had kissed Jamie Tartt.

And by the look on his face—he was definitely going to kiss her again.

[globaloppaaa]

UM. PLEASE EXPLAIN. HOW. WHAT. WHEN. WHERE. WHY. WHO. (for the sake of my own sanity)

HAHAHA dw bb i got you 😉

i might have to delete this post in a week for legal and privacy reasons oops…

PART 2

i’ve been going to kcon LA for the last two years as a performer! my college is partnered with cj cultural foundation of cj entertainment, who if you may knowww has been a representative of boys planet, the mama awards, all kinds of korean dramas and survival shows etc, including kcon! big big thank you to them btw.

since i’m majoring in dance, we spent the school year creating choreography to some of k-pop’s biggest songs, and we’re able to perform on the mama stage and smaller stages inside the convention center as the openers!

now heres where it gets interesting…

when you buy different passes and things for kcon you get like a badge? it’ll usually say something like “content creator” or “2-day pass”, but since i was performing, mine was labeled “artist”

I FELT SO FUCKING COOL OH MY GOD-

because my badge said artist, our dressing rooms, and practice rooms were also with the other artists, aka: every group there 😳

soooo i got to meet a lot of the groups and have like so many interactions with them completely off camera, it was actually the coolest thing ever.

as we were leaving through the backstage area, because “artists” have to enter and exit through a special door, enhypen just so happened to have just finished their performance and i mayyy have a video of us meeting them and saying hellos 🤭

no but like it was my y/n moment they looked at me and were actually just so fine

maybe i’ll share more stories if ppl are interested hehe

[ingravinoveritas]

Hiya! In case you haven't seen: https://metro.co.uk/2025/02/03/david-tennant-confirms-six-toes-right-foot-its-like-a-nubbin-22466225/

Nice little article. Ignore the toe, haha.

Hi there! Yes, I saw this article this morning, which seems to have come as part of a flurry of PR ahead of David hosting the BAFTAs again this month (the most bizarre of which is the Daily Fail, which starts off talking about the toes and then talks about the BAFTAs and then David and Georgia's marriage, for some reason). But I'll link to the Metro article for those who haven't read it...

I think my reaction to this was twofold. The first reaction I had is to wonder how this seemingly never came up before or was never noticed by anyone, because God knows we've seen David in plenty of roles where he is barefoot. Fortunately, some intrepid souls have spent the better part of the day searching for photographic evidence, and it seems that we do now have a picture of this "nubbin," as David put it. The photo used is from Richard II, so it looks like he may have had it then, but subsequently got it removed. Maybe.

(...Did I mention how weird this is as an anecdote for PR articles promoting the BAFTAs? Because it really is...)

The second reaction that I had to this was a feeling of gentle validation. I know that sounds strange, but I will explain: On both of my feet, my smallest toe (a baby toe that didn't grow in all the way) is second from the end, rather than on the end. It's a genetic/hereditary thing--my Grandma had the same thing--and completely harmless and painless, but I got bullied for it very badly all through school. I remember dreading going to Pool in elementary school because we had to change in the locker room, and the girls were merciless about it. I became so self-conscious that I stopped wearing flip-flops and didn't start again until I was much older.

In hindsight of course, it's a very little thing, but at the time it nearly consumed me, and was a part of why I began to feel suicidal at 10 years old. So hearing about David's "condition" was just sort of lovely, and gave me that nice feeling of "Oh cool, I'm not the only one with weird feet." Haha.

In any case, this is certainly an interesting (if unusual) start to BAFTAs promotion. Glad at least to see David is excited to host again and that he seems to have a good perspective on the whole thing...

[notinmyvocab]

Wrong Number

It's just your luck. The one time you decide to send nudes, you send them to the wrong number. Not just any wrong number. The wrongest number you could have accidentally sent them to: Professor Calderu

Warnings: fem!reader x Professor!Lilia Calderu (brief mentions of fem!reader x unnamed male character), possessive!Lilia

The concept of Professor Lilia has a chokehold on me

For whatever reason, these were supposed to be the best years of your life. You didn't know who decided that, but you wanted to have a word with them because they were an absolute liar.

College hadn't been a bad time, but the best years of your life? No. No fucking way. Oh sure, you had friends. You did activities. You studied hard. But that was it. It really wasn't that much different from high school. Just a little more drinking and a little more weed.

Which was why you decided your last semester was going to be your wildest. Screw the studying. Okay, maybe not that. But you upped the ante at parties, daring to drink a little more, daring to have a little more fun.

Daring to flirt a little more.

In your drunken haze, the boy had been cute enough and nice enough and what the hell, it was your last semester! It wasn't like you would have to worry about running into him on campus for the next four years if things went awry.

So your number found its way into his phone and vice versa. And the next day, you were surprised to feel that you didn't actually regret it. You spent the whole day nursing a light hangover, reliving your little adventure. In your memory, whatshisname was cute... though it would be nice to know his first name. You went through your phone and found that you unhelpfully named the contact Lil Cutie. Weird. Had he been short? You couldn't actually remember.

Still, the thought of this new endeavor was exciting.

Even that night in your bed, you were enticed by branching out like this.

You wanted to say that you were still drunk from the night before. But you knew that wasn't true. The decision to snap some... tasteful photos, was a completely sober one.

Did they look okay? You kept asking yourself that as you studied the photos. You kept looking closer, and every time you saw a flaw to nitpick. Bad lighting. Bad angle. Bad body part.

No! You were overthinking it. Just send it. Just send the photos. Go on, just send.

And sent!

Then your heart plummeted to your stomach.

The contact at the top was not Lil Cutie. The contact at the top of the messages was for your academic advisor.

Lilia Calderu.

You let out a yelp of horror and threw your phone to the end of your bed. Oh god.

Gripped by panic, you lunged for your phone and desperately tried finding a way to delete the message, to take it back. You frantically googled, but nothing. There was nothing you could do.

The message had been sent. Not only had it been sent, but you watched in horror as the read receipt appeared.

Then came the typing bubbles.

Once again you yelped and threw your phone. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!

You spent the rest of the night laying awake in horror. Fear sank its fangs into your neck and refused to let go. You couldn't even doze. You just lay there, staring into space as you envisioned the different punishments you would have to face. Oh god, would you get to graduate?

That fear was amplified when you picked up your phone again the next morning and saw a text message from her. With shaking fingers, you opened the message.

My office. 3 PM.

You could see it now: Lilia Calderu next to the Dean of Students, both glaring at you, damning you to a ruined academic career.

Feeling like you were moving through molasses, you showered and got dressed for the meeting, your heart in your throat the entire time. You trudged across campus until you reached Lilia's office. You hesitated outside of the door, realizing that the worst part of this was that you were going to lose Lilia's friendship.

As your academic advisor, Lilia had been with you through the worst and best of it. She helped you develop your thesis. She always made you tea when her office hour ran late, which usually did because she and you always had a good time talking about anything and everything. Now all of that was destroyed.

You knocked on her door and then stepped inside.

Professor Calderu was at her desk. She was alone, no Dean of Students at her side. Somehow, this made it worse.

"Close the door," she instructed. Her tone was sharp; it was startling. All of the warmth you were so used to seeing in her eyes was gone.

You shut the door and sat down across from her. There was a tense moment of silence that you couldn't bear. You took it upon yourself to break it. "Professor I'm—"

"Who were they meant for?" Lilia interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your photos," Lilia enunciated. "Who were they meant for?"

You could feel your cheeks grow hot. "Um... I met a boy at a party."

"Some boy at a party? Some stranger you don't know?"

Wait, now you were confused. Was she... offended? Not because you accidentally sent her your nudes, but because they weren't meant for her? "I... I don't..."

Lilia stood up from her desk and walked over to her door, locking it. The sound of the snick made you jump; you were hyper aware of everything happening. You were aware of how quiet it was. You were aware that Lilia was now standing behind you. You were aware of her hands on your shoulders.

"I had a terrible night. You see, I received these pictures and couldn't help but just stare at them—"

"I'm really sorry—"

"—imagining, hoping that maybe you had sent them on purpose."

Your breath hitched in your throat, one of her hands sliding down from your shoulder to down the front of your sweatshirt. She cupped your breast and your head lolled back, eyes fluttering shut.

"Do you want me?" Lilia murmured in your ear, her breath warm.

"Yes," you admitted.

"Do you want me like I want you?"

"Yes." Yes, you would say yes a million times to whatever she asked, realizing that despite your horror at your mistake, you had actually loved the idea that you had done it. It excited you inexplicably, and now it was a fantasy realized. Professor Lilia Calderu was touching you in the way that you always wanted her to touch you.

"And you will only want me?" She gently bit down on your earlobe and you gasped. "No more silly boys at parties."

No, no more silly boys. Only her.

[xjulixred45x]

🍓 Hello author, can I request a fluff ROR Anubis x Husband!Reader where the reader is the god of monsters and part of the Norse pantheon ? Reader is known for being monstrous, ugly, emotionless, and a man-eater, but in reality, he is beautiful, vegetarian, romantic, and always wears long or puffy dresses. However, even though he is kind, he is still very powerful. I hope I haven't asked for too much, and I apologize if I did 🍓

I'll try My best

Anubis x God of Monsters! Reader: Facade

Anubis loves his husband, very much, and he made that the problem of the entire Egyptian pantheon.

It was not uncommon for him to sometimes go full speed on all fours to the altar of one of his fellow gods, just to talk about something nice his partner, Reader, did when no one else was looking, or to blabber on about how much he loved them and how lucky he was.

The problem? No one believed him.

After all, Anubis had somehow managed to marry Reader, a god from the Norse pantheon that none of the Egyptian pantheon had ever seen (if it weren't for confirmation from the gods of the Norse pantheon, everyone would have thought Anubis had made him up), but they had heard many… interesting things about him.

There were many human legends about him, the man-eater, a cruel and hideous creature who enjoyed the suffering of humans and gods alike, with a horrible temper, who was incapable of feeling any kind of guilt or remorse. A complete monster turned god.

Thanks to this, there were many doubts about how the hell someone like Anubis, who despite all his faults, was very lively and energetic, ended up with someone supposedly so cruel and dismissive, someone who probably didn't care about him the same way he cared about reader.

There were some gods who cared about him, and tried to talk about it for his sake! They just wanted to make sure he didn't end up with a soul-sucking god or something like that. However, they were surprised to see how calm Anubis was about the whole thing, downplaying it, even laughing at the oh very serious rumors about his husband.

The reason? Simple, he knew that all of that was bullshit.

Don't get me wrong, Anubis can sense death a mile away, he would know what he was talking about, and while that scent was irresistible, reader definitely didn't have that smell, he had something much, much better.

Actually, none of those people (much less those who had made those legends, or the rumors) had ever met the reader he had met. Not only one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen, but also someone extremely kind and gentle! Man-eater? Monster? Bullshit! He knew his mate.

Sure, reader had an important position in the Norse pantheon, being the god and father of most of the monsters that formed their mythology, but that didn't make him any less loving towards the life forms that formed the pantheon. It was almost strange, seeing how he treated monsters like ice giants or sea creatures as if they were children, however, Anubis found this excessively tender, as a sign of his mate's true feelings.

Reader was someone whose philosophy was based on not inflicting harm on other living beings, even those that were considered dispensable or necessary for survival. Anubis still remembered how strange he felt at first when he found out that Reader, a god of monsters, was a vegetarian and preferred not to receive sacrifices in his offerings (like most gods).

Many made this seem like something strange and big when in reality, he had a simple answer to why he was like that, he wouldn't let himself be defined as a monster just by what they say about him, he knows the kind of person he is, and it's just his problem. But he wouldn't let his position as a god of monster define him as one. That was what attracted Anubis to Reader, that he rejected death, but didn't see it as something bad, it was interesting. Well, that and other things.

Despite being a seemingly stoic god, Reader actually had a great taste for traditional romance from various cultures, whether it was giving gifts that he knew Anubis would enjoy, things he learned from his worshipers, even arranging dates so that both could be alone, without any god interrupting them.

Reader enjoyed making things a little special, but nothing could captivate the heart of the Egyptian god of death when Reader showed his most careless and normal side to him. Things like Reader waking up in his pajamas and messy hair, instead of his immaculate appearance and extravagant clothes, or allowing himself to do things like laugh out loud, play children's games, talk like an idiot to his smallest and most adorable monsters, were things that sealed the deal for Anubis.

THIS was the man, the god, that he wanted to stay with for the rest of his life, for all eternity. No matter what his companions, or the other gods, said, what does it matter?

As long as he and Reader can enjoy each other's company, everything is fine.

Shares, reblogs, and comments are very welcome!

[xadenviolct]

Well...

I finished it.

And I mean, I took as long as I could, since I really didn't want to get to the end--mainly because, like with Iron Flame, we now know absolutely NOTHING about the fourth book and I'm in a perpetual waiting hell.

But at the same time, I couldn't hold off too long, because with every day, the potential for spoilers being seen increases, etc. And the very, VERY last thing I ever want is for any of these books to be spoiled for me.

With that said...

SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM BELOW THE CUT!!!

I MEAN IT! BIG SPOILERS!

ALL-THE-WAY-TO-THE-END-OF-THE-BOOK TYPE SPOILERS!

Because I'm putting my thoughts, my reactions, etc. (which will probably all be kinda disjointed, and rather lengthy, so bear with me on that...)

So yeah--

YOU. HAVE. BEEN. WARNED!

Now that that is out of the way--

(and yes, I've had that gif saved here for this very purpose)

First, I'll say this--

I am so very glad we got other characters' views in a few chapters. I absolutely loved getting Imogen and Rhiannon, (and of course some Xaden POV) and I know--I know that Quinn's death hit a hell of a lot harder because it was in Imogen's view than if it had been anyone else's.

I absolutely sobbed with that one. Like, put-the-book-down-for-a-moment sobbed. Liam Mairi dying type sob.

It was just... oh my HEART. HURT.

And Andarna deserves the world, okay? No one -- dragon, human, ANYONE -- is allowed to be mean to her, to upset her.

I will literally fight those dragons for Andarna, okay?

(Yes, okay, ONE of them wasn't a complete ass, but the others? I wouldn't have minded Tairn roasting them all. Or taking a few eyes.)

I was also so damn sure Mira would be dead in this book. Which, yes, okay, she kinda did-- but not really. The big "this death really hurts" moment was with Quinn.

Which I'm still reeling about, okay. It hurts!

I will also say that I absolutely LOVED the way the title got worked in at the end.

I mean, my heart broke, and I hated it, but I loved it. I definitely figured he'd fall farther by the end of this book--I mean, it would have greatly decreased the impact of Xaden turning venin at the end of Iron Flame if we went and found a cure and he got better by the end of OS.

So while I was still expecting him to sink further into that darkness-- That doesn't mean I still didn't want to yell at Rebecca for doing it!

Although--I think I might be willing to grant a bit of "okay" on it, because that final push seemed to be Xaden being all, "NO ONE TOUCHES AND HURTS SGAEYL."

Which I am 10000% for.

Saving Violet was the catalyst in IF, saving Sgaeyl was the catalyst in OS.

And I am also THRILLED that she didn't break the bond! I know that was going around as a possibility, that Sgaeyl was so pissed, that Xaden would turn deeper into darkness and she'd break the bond, but I'm glad she didn't.

I NEED more Xaden and Sgaeyl. I just do.

(I am also firmly convinced that Naolin did similarly to Xaden--in that he pulled from the source to save Brennan, he turned but his motivations were sort of in the right place, etc.--and Tairn had to break the bond or Naolin did or something to that effect and that is just another reason Tairn is so anti-Xaden (especially) in OS. Because he went through it all with Naolin, and he knows (in that "I'm Tairn and I know everything" way) that there is no cure, no saving, etc. But he also trusts Sgaeyl, Violet, etc. at least enough to let them walk this and not just torch Xaden outright.)

AND XADEN'S MOM WAS IN THE ISLE KINGDOMS!

I mean, there is still more there, I know there is. There's more to the story of why she left, why she never said anything, etc. etc.

But that was definitely a complicated bit of emotion in those chapters.

There are also so many more questions I have about Violet in regards to Dunne, to the temples and the gods/goddesses in general. Like, I know I need to reread OS too, with note taking and close watch and all that, but I still have questions.

What does it all mean? Theophanie was also built up as a major player and then she... dies. So now I wanna know who is even bigger than Theophanie--or is it going to come down to a Xaden versus Violet moment?

That will definitely be a very. giant. painful. moment.

And was it Garrick at the end? Or Bodhi? I'm pretty sure it has to be one of them, right? Like I said, I'd have to reread the whole thing--and especially that chapter with Xaden--but those are the only two that would fit his inner thinking criteria:

Male (since it mentions as a "brother")

Someone who'd known what he was struggling with (a la turning venin) for months, so basically from the beginning.

Someone he never would have ever thought would do it

I feel like it's Garrick, over Bodhi. Because Garrick left Imogen in Draithus, we didn't hear/see him again, and he's "missing" in Violet's chapter at the very end. (I cannot remember if Bodhi is mentioned or not...)

But it has to be one of them, right?

And now I wanna know why--to both of them! Either of them! Whoever it is--TELL ME WHY!

Pancheck is dead now, too, right? I was so sure it was gonna be Daddy Aetos being the asshole traitor but at the same time, maybe I just wanted to really really hate him for every other reason.

Still don't quite know why it was Pancheck--I'm pretty sure I missed several clues, that's for sure--but at the same time, he did know everything. He was perfectly positioned to be the traitor and all that...

And why was that the ending?

I seriously turned the page, and saw the "acknowledgements" starting on the next one, and I was all--

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me! That's it?! That's where it stops?!

I need all the answers.

What happened to make Violet ask/tell Imogen to take her memories? What happened in those "missing moments" to bring us to that point?

At what point did Violet tell Imogen to take the memories? WHAT memories (specifically) that happened in that missing time?

I knew I'd be completely reeling by the end of this book, but I didn't realize I'd be reeling this much!

And VIOLET'S SECOND SIGNET = INNTINNSIC!

Type of, but yeah. We're still going with that.

There are way too many things about inntinnsics that we don't know because of them being killed the moment it manifests, so yeah-- still many more questions.

And that is one damn powerful signet!

Now, I wanna know if she hones it, works on it, will it only be in dreams? Like, she can apparently meddle in them, influence them (subtly, perhaps, right now, but yeah--) so if we call it a dream-walking inntinnsic (or whatever "official" name the signet gets, IDK), but that's right now, right at the beginning.

Is it possible that she could meddle in conscious thoughts?

Aaric having precognition was something I figured out rather quickly, though; especially by that point when he tells Violet to guard Dunne's temple, etc.

It's like "oh yeah, he knows future things, etc."

And finally--

MARRIAGE? Wow!

I mean, I was kinda getting the vibe that it would happen at some point, sure. And then especially with that chapter's heading being about lieutenants marrying right after graduation, etc.

I just need to know the details. I mean, we all do, I'm sure, but when did that happen? Like, officially happen?

How?

Tyrrendor is protected because it's Violet's, by marriage (I'm assuming) and Xaden knows she'll do right for the people... But again, WHERE IS BODHI?!

What the holy fucking hell happened?!

Everyone knows Xaden is venin now, of course, and apparently a powerful one too. Is it possible to skip over steps? Like, can you go from an initiate level straight to a Sage (bypassing the asim level) if you channel enough and/or are powerful enough?

Again, I need to reread certain parts especially, but I'm getting the vibe that Xaden didn't just up a level. Or if he did, he'd been asim longer than we initially realized, so he's Sage level now...

I. DO. NOT. KNOW!

And I have so many questions!!!!

[lady-mole]

Alright, let's do this thing !

1. Well, obviously, a mole ! More precisely the european mole ! :3

2. I'm pretty sure that would be some food ! I love to make him discover french deserts, like macarons ! I am not the best cook, though, so I usually buy those ! :3

3. Oh, I LOVE watching TV with my fo ! :3

4. Well, we have someone to do most of the chores (her name is Barbara, and she is very sweet, by the way), and I insist on cleaning the bedroom myself, so that doesn't leave much for Lord Mole to do ! :3

5. ... I don't have a driving licence, so I'd have to trust him anyway ! x3

6. I don't have any particular ringtone for him ! I should fix that ! :o

7. He might, he is a feisty one...

8. Well, even if he doesn't really mention soulmates, he does believe we were brought together by the Great Digger's* will, which quite ressemble the context of soulmates. In fact, when we think about it, the subject really is interesting : what's a soulmate ? Well, if you read Plato (the rest of this answer had to be cut to prevent massive boredom)

*The God of Mole people, mentioned by Lord Mole in the Sims2 GBA.

9. Well, I don't have any friend that's doesn't know about him yet, but I can tell you my family doesn't, and it wouldn't go well :'3

10. Well, I'm thinking of all of the possible ways we could have met, I do that a lot and it's really funny to do ! :3

11. Well, basically, we are very different, and yet, we complete each other perfectly, I think that describes perfectly our dynamic ! :3

12. I'd say a royal red ! :3

13. Pretty sure he would introduce me like I was the queen of the whole world, he is so proud he married me, for some reason, and I think it would go well, because his friends would understand how happy he is with his mariage, even if we're very different 🩷

14. I'm skinny, hairless, quite fragile, Lord Mole sees me as the cutest earthworm ever ! Which is ironical because I'm am afraid of earthworms ! x3🪱

15. Chocolate, because he knows it's my favorite food, and a huge hug, because hugs are my favorite thing in the world 🩷

16. In his head : "the magnificent queen of the entire world !" Aloud : Well, he says the same aloud ! x3

17. Lord Mole lives a life of infinite leisure, unlike me who works quite a lot, so he loves when I finally relax and watch TV with him... 🩷

18. With hugs. Hugs never lie. 🩷

19. He can't see very well, so he mostly loves my smell and voice, even if he says I have pretty teeth ! :3

20. I'm very patient, and he says that's what makes me a good queen and mom ! He really admire this ! :3🩷

21. Beautiful, I wouldn't even care if it isn't that good because he can't see very well, I'd cherish that drawing ! 🩷

22. Sometimes ! But I have a very small appetite, unlike him, so he gives me a veeeery small part of his food, and I'm totally full ! x3

23. He associates me with white, because I shine like a diamond, according to him 🩷💎

Tag list : @fictodreamer @vergils-beloved @fl0ralsxgar @zoroscanonhusband @arsene-fixates @cosmoproductions @xx-evilestyuri-xx @silver-heller @paulisperpostridie

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

[bananonbinary]

here's your periodic reminder that fan creators do not owe you anything, and if someone does or does not want to draw/write something, it literally is not an attack or moral judgement of the thing, they are allowed to have preferences.

[astranauticus]

Director of the False Last Act

[spookythesillyfella]

wanted to experiment a bit with my art today !! yaaay !!! ¥_^

...

can anyone else hear those bells ominously tolling in the distance ?

★ version without text under cut :

★ lyrics : "Melancolia" – Caravan Palace

[12th-shavie]

[100 hours in]

Up next, the long-awaited follow-up to Osvald and Partitio's crossed path ! I was really looking forward to this one

Coffee, huh... of course that would be their stances on coffee, I can't imagine Partitio drinking it too bitter, that sweetie

Aww they're using the coffee bit when threatening thugs ! They're such good buddies

And now they're keeping it going as they threaten the loan shark before mugging him, how adorable~

Partitio, my boy, do you not know of the Moon ???

And here comes the ominous night-time that shouldn't possibly be... and the end of the quest. Obviously. I can't get to the juicy bits just yet I guess

Oh well, that's just more of a reason to move on the chapter I kept as the last one : Temenos' fourth (I hope he kicks the evil god's ass or gets closer to doing so)

Oh we doing genocide flashbacks now ? Okay...

Ort I mean to put this in the nicest way possible but maybe you should've doubted your boss before she reached the spooky cave and started being nefarious about it

Kaldena has the same kind of shadow energy as Harvey... evil.

But her boss sprite ? Oh her boss sprite is looking fine~

And it even gets better... Kaldena of the Night is a banger design (the sprite work in this game gets me every time)

That fight was over quickly... but that's just the Osvald nuke setup for ya, he's allowed all the spotlight he wants <3

The end artwork is in front of Crick's grave... T^T (Temenos looks incredibly baby on it tho)

I found and did Ort's next chapter pretty quickly after that and the bit about the lost hair ornament bugs me so much, wasn't Mindt just shown to have lost hers ?? How involved is she actually ? And why do I not get any extra info about anything extra suspicious lately...

Oh well, fine, game, Laila's next chapter it is then

Hermes sure loves her fishies, but I wish she would've just kicked this guy's ass then and there... a girl can dream

As for Veronica's next chapter, I found the right npc at last after trying my luck with every Dolcinaea-related location (it didn't really take all that long)

I can still see the scene after that and picture the metaphorical game looking me in the eye telling me Veronica and Dolcinaea should kiss (screenshots were taken)

Anyway, time for the Throné and Temenos follow-up !

That's looking like a new murder myster- oh Alpates is the victim, so much for asking her about last time

I love how Temenos won't knock the guard out himself but completely endorse Throné doing it (and stealing from dead bodies but that's the gameplay integration for ya)

Onward to the mysterious cave of time shenanigans !

Oh shit is getting real detective mode is back ON !!

I love how Throné casually welcomes Temenos back from detective mode, she's so chill about it

So the treasure is the full mirror... and something about those who hope for the dawn... what were you hiding Alpates...

And that's the ominous cutoff point, obviously

Guess I'll try and finish every last side story before seeing what that "Extra story" is all about, it sounds like a grand finale to me

I found a next chapter for Shirlutto, who I definitely hadn't completely forgot the name of, and he wanted a bunch of stuff I had from my inventory (because I am a nosy player who can and will investigate everything !)

Oh that was the story for the guard in Lostseed !

And that's baby's first desire for revenge, I guess ?

Not gonna lie, that wasn't my favourite quest, the beastling speech patterns got to me pretty quick and they're not my jam

Alpione's next chapter had a fun twist on the hunter premise, she got to do something good for the creature this time around

For Mikka's next chapter, let me see... we have more Benkei being here and a good bean, and Mikka and Pala flirting. A lot. I can almost hear the metaphorical game breathing down my neck and whispering "gay gay homosexual gay" and yuri-ing away or something

Since I was around, I also got to finishing the tower (I had found and started it previously, up to the third floor) thanks to the wondrous Osvald nuke team

And lo and behold ! A final support class ! I first gave it to Partitio since I had him on hand and he had the JP for those juicy support skills (in this household we love a Partitio with plenty of SP and skills that half its consumption are good) but then decided to give it to Castti to consolidate her supporting capabilities (and she looks cute in it) (and I really like cleric Partitio as a versatile support that can heal a solid amount)

While going about my sidequest log I got back to the one for stage actors in Tropu'hopu and coerced the guy to see if I got more info on what he wanted, and let's just say that "Temenos the Diviner" entertained me a fair bit

But since I had a save right before it and Osvald to try and mug the guy, I reloaded the save and let's just say that I didn't know I needed "Osvald the Thieving Gentlemage" until it was right before me

I'm curious as to what skits happen for Hikari and Ochette, but I think I'll look that up eventually, as a treat

And with that, my quest backlog was done... except for a teeny tiny insignificant one in the spooky island with the gates to a cryptic name and the (dying ? or just in really bad shape ?) guy who wanted to translate the book "From the Far Reaches of Hell", so definitely nothing important that I should devote lots of attention to...

Instead I scavenged for more cleric, scholar and apothecary licenses and I'm not afraid to say that the manor ruins being completely silent started stressing me out at some point while hunting for the big deers

And with the 100-hours mark approaching, I knew what I wanted to do : prepare my endgame teams for the true final stretch !

After lots of thinking on synergies and break coverage, I decided on splitting up the party with thief Agnea, cleric Partitio, conjurer Castti and arcanist Osvald for the magical nuke setup with good physical damage from Agnea on top, and inventor Ochette, merchant Throné, scholar Temenos and armsmaster Hikari for a more physically-oriented team with disguised Throné to double up on scholars if need be and extra versatility out of the learned skills/monsters

I got through a lot of equipment management to come up with builds I liked but I am pretty proud of myself for coming up with these

Of course, this has nothing to do with the sidequest boss from hell that requires to split the travelers in two teams and certainly not the fact that it wiped the floor with me when I showed up unprepared

Anyway, up next should be the final chapter, although I don't know what to expect !

Octopath Traveler II delayed playthrough blogging

[10 hours in]

Contains light spoilers of some early chapters I guess

I started the journey with Agnea because she looked like a sweetie (and she is) and she really has the most jrpg "leave of this small village to see the big wide world to make your dream come true" beginning

I got her to allure a villager that replenishes SP with every dancer skill she uses and she's been the cornerstone to most battles ever since

The second traveler I got was Partitio and he's a funny lad, I love his vibe, hat, jacket, and speech ! Also, the atmosphere of his storyline was a nice dramatic change of pace after the cozy first one I got

I headcanon that Roque's betrayal was in fact very much a divorce with Partitio's dad and I cannot wait to see how that applies to future chapters (I do hope it ages like fine wine rather than milk)

Partitio's combat performance was pretty solid despite a lack of AoE but the weapon variety for breaking was the early highlight

I ignored the fork in the road that lead to Hikari in favor of recruiting Castti because I wanted a healer and I feel slightly guilty (but also not at all)

Castti is literally so nice to people I can't wait to see if she really has an extremely shady past that will torment her for at least 1 chapter before she decides that she's going to be a good noddle in spite of all

Her concocting is pretty fun but I wish I had more diffusing serum (I can make do with latent power for now but it'd more fun to let her do some fun nuking)

Castti is also extremely tanky (she's the only one I have with over 1k HP so far) so she was a very welcome addition to the party

The next step in the journey was recruiting Osvald (I wanted to start with him but the 2 forced chapters made me decide to instead make him the reward for reaching the eastern continent) after I ignored the boat that lead to Ochette and wandered around until I stumbled upon a boat that lead really close to Osvald on the map and eventually found him face-down in the snow (which makes my decision to no start with him even better)

His first two chapters cemented him as one of my favorites beyond the visual vibes I got from the first selecting menu, and his skillset was a cherry on top

AoE magic nuking when I already have some buffing and BP donating in my party ? I'm sold. Free weakpoint reveals every battle ? Even better ! Osvaldo battle voicelines ? Yes please !

After that I found the scholar license and decided that Agnea should also learn to buff spell intensity to make my Osvaldo nuking engine even stronger (she's been doing great and I'm very proud of her)

Since it was on the way to Agnea's second chapter for which she was at the recommended level, I went on to recruit Temenos and he did not disappoint ! He really gave me an impression of being a seemingly upstanding fellow who is in fact not only shady but just the right blend of ambiguous tease with genuine words thrown in (props to his voice acting that really sells it)

His detective moment was also pretty cool, especially after seeing the duality of his abilities to get people to follow him without risk of failure and his (very shady) coercing to get more intel

I considered replacing Castti with him as my party healer but he is very squishy compared to her, and she also has weapon diversity and more consistent debuffing over him so for the time being he's just chilling at the tavern waiting for a party composition that makes him shine

On my way to the big city I found the inventor license and could simply not resist giving it to Partitio it simply fit him too well (and more weapons to break with is very nice), although I'm thinking of changing it later to try a Temenos build that would allow him to break even more and coerce better

Now onto the big city to recruit Throné and let Agnea's story unfold further !