#not to mention the performances they are delivering too

[aakaneeee]

new luka content! you know what that means (from luka fan number one tm)

trigger warnings!: this is more or less coherent, I tried my best to tie my ideas togheter though. physical violence mentions, heart attacks mentioned? idk if these are valid tw's

pointing out the obvious, we have earpieces for both Luka and Till, which means they'll probably use their hands!! a lot!! I wonder what that means...

also, on the topic of earpieces, a lot of the times, rock singers use them.. does that mean they'll have that kind of performance? it could be, since we do know that bl8m DEFINETLY has the ability to sing that way!! I would love to see Luka just.. snapping. A lot of people say that Till will rage, but I'd like to see the opposite.

If you look close, you can see a heart rate.. at first glance, it's.. a little faster than usual? It looks a lot like Tachycardia. I looked closer and noticed the heart rate chart is kinda.. shaky?? I wonder if this is foreshadowing.. maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I know that sometimes, your heart rate can slow down during a heart attack?? (I just talked about tachycardia what am I saying.)

considering his fingers' placement, I realized that chronic migraines usually hurt on the side of the head.. I dont have chronics, but my migraines usually hurt behind my ear, so I was wondering if that's why they are there...

onto his appearance... his hair looks put up, right? At least, half put up, and that reminds me of:

top 3 luka... when he's standing on a throne all alone... foreshadowing much huh

i personally believe "Never come back again" is the name of the song, since CURE was "delivered" to us in a similar manner. for me, it could go 2 ways:

"Never come back again", as in, never participate again.. as in, either Luka losing and not participating again.. because he's dead?? or not participating again because the aliens got bored of him and Heperu gets another pet for his whims...

"Never come back again", as in, "She'll never come back again", I was thinking of the song possibly being Hyuna dying and so, never returning, which would make sense because Ruler of My Heart, Luka's other song, is also about her.

No matter the outcome, I am so excited for this! Luka is.. obviously my favourite character and he's been since the first time I saw him, so any outcome will have me.. quite interested :3 if this goes into Luka dying, I will feel the grief of Ivan fans (I hope not though.. sorry Till..)

just akane fangirling under cut:

OH. MY GOD RAAHHHHH HE IS SOOO BEAUTIFUL😭😭 I can see the long hair... it's longer than in round 6... AND THE PONYTAIL TAKBHHHH HES SO BEAUTIFULLLL THE WAY I STARTED JUMPING WHEN I SAW THESEEEEEEEHEJDJSH

[awfydreich]

You know what else is insane? The amount of accent juggling these guys are doing like, you have:

a Brit constantly shifting between a New Orleans accent and a neutral American accent whilst dipping into French occasionally

another Brit going from a sort of neutral English accent to French accented English to French language

THEN suddenly they are arguing and it becomes a Brit playing an American who is imitating an English accent and another Brit playing someone who has lived different lives in different countries over centuries but most recently was a French speaker who now has more of an English accent imitating a southern American accent asdfghjghjkl

[harrysfolklore]

hi bestie,, idk if u take requests buttt have u seen kieran culkin speech after he won his emmy & then him asking his wife for another baby on stage 😁🤭🤭 idk i thought that would a cute h blurb

that kieran speech was SO CUTE i just had to take this request !!! happy one year of grammy winner Harry for those who celebrate! i hope you like this as much as I do

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The night had been one for the books.

Harry became a Grammy winner for the second time within the first 30 minutes of the ceremony, getting the award for Best Pop Vocal Album, and your heart bursted with joy and pride and you watched him collect it.

He also delivered an amazing performance even though he had a stage malfunction that was out of his control, and after a few minutes of pep talk backstage, you convinced him that he should be proud of what he did no matter what.

Nights like tonight made you look back at your journey with Harry, from getting frustrated each year when the Grammys refused to give One Direction a nomination, to consoling him when his debut single Sign of the Times got overlooked and celebrating when they finally ave him his long overdue nomination for Fine Line. And now, being one of the most nominated artists of the night and a winner already.

Harry was not an artist that let awards or numbers define his career at all, but you knew that deep down he appreciated getting a nod and recognition for the hard work he puts into his music.

"What's on your mind, honey?" Harry asked and he noticed that you had been quiet for a few minutes, the show was on a commercial break so you could talk freely.

"Just thinking about how am I getting a picture with Beyoncé before the night ends," you joked, making him laugh along, "I'm also thinking about the bub, do you think she's okay?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the mention of your daughter. Little baby Styles had been welcomed into the world a year and a half ago, looking like an exact carbon copy of Harry with curls, dimples and charming green eyes.

It's safe to say that she became Harry's entire world from the moment he saw her for the first time.

"I bet she's fast asleep by now after snuggling with mum for hours," you smiled at the thought, "You know she's obsessed with mum."

"She just loves her nana," you almost cooed, "And her Grammy winner daddy, even tho she doesn't have any idea what that means."

"You know," Harry began, and by the look on his face you knew he was up to no good, "She could become obsessed with her bay brother or sister too, if we decided to give her one."

The smirk on Harry's face after his statement was almost devilish, making you look him with wide eyes and a grin on your own.

"Are you asking me for another baby in the middle of the Grammys?" Harry shrugged, the smirk not leaving his face, "You're a menace. But, maybe if you win, I'll think about it."

Before Harry could reply, the lights dimmed signaling that commercial break was over and it was time for more awards, more specifically, the most important award of the night: Album of the Year.

Trevor Noah, the host, talked about the importance and meaning of the award, the fans the production had invited to support the nominees stood beside him in a line.

You could barely focus on what was being said because your eyes were fixed on Harry's hand gripping yours tightly, and you felt like throwing up from nerves if you looked at the stage.

And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor spoke into the mic, making a dramatic pause that felt way too long and made you finally look up no the stage, noticing that he was standing in front of Reina, Harry's fan.

And that was the moment you knew, the Album of the Year was Harry's House.

“It’s you!” both you ans Jeff whisper-yelled in unison, looking at each other with shocked faces and making Harry give you a confused look.

“What do you-” and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.

Harry immediately covered his face in disbelief, shaking his head and taking in in the moment. You couldn't help but stand up and jump in your place, adrenaline and excitement, but mostly pride, running through your veins.

"My love, you won! Harry's House won!" you said into his ear when he finally wrapped his arms around you, pecking the side of yiur head repeatedly before kissing your lips quickly.

"I love you," was all he said before getting rushed into the stage along with his collaborators and friends.

"Shit!" was the first thing that came out of his mouth once he had his Grammy in hand, making everyone laugh, “I mean,shit! I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone,” he took a breath,"I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”

You stood with your hands clutched to your chest, your eyes filled with happy tears and nothing but love and admiration for him.

"I'd like to thank my mom and my sister for being my biggest supporters and giving me a great childhood, I would be nowhere without you," he paused to look directly at you from the stage, his eyes immediately watering again, "And of course my beautiful wife, YN. Thank you for sharing your beautiful life with me and giving me an amazing daughter who is the reason I do what I do everyday,"

You were unaware of the camera focusing on your and catching the moment you mouthed an 'I love you' to him from your place.

"I love you both so much, you mean the world to me. And YN," he paused, the devilish look from earlier making his way to his face again, along with a teasing raised eyebrow that told you that he was about to do something major, "I want another one."

The entire arena erupted into laughs and cheers, Jeff clapped and whistled from beside you and you couldn't help but cover your face in shock and embarrassment, astonished by Harry's anctics.

"You said, maybe if I won, and I did!" the crowd laughed even more, "I love you, so much. Thank you for this, I'll never forget it."

Harry got off the stage and you met him backstage to congratulate him properly, after a final performance the night came to an end and everyone headed outside the arena to celebrate.

"Do you feel like partying tonight? The label is throwing a celebration but if you feel tired we can skip it," Harry said as you both sat on the back of his Range Rover.

"Honestly, I just want to go home, kiss our baby goodnight and celebrate with my Grammy winner husband in private," you smiled at him teasingly, "Maybe get started on that second baby making."

The smile that appeared on Harry's face after hearing your words was bigger than the one from winning a Grammy.

"Home it is, then."

[joosthead]

SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F)  gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you. 

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making. 

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour. 

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else. 

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed. 

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down. 

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you. 

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house. 

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing. 

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—” 

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.” 

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away. 

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating. 

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days. 

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake. 

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again. 

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?” 

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.” 

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.” 

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you. 

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth. 

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles. 

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles. 

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.” 

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again. 

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?” 

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.” 

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is. 

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own. 

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.  

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else. 

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option. 

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to. 

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.” 

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway. 

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.” 

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet. 

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?” 

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?” 

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him. 

“Much too long.” 

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl. 

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.” 

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is. 

“I might have to promise with how this is going.” 

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.” 

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.” 

“When has that ever stopped you before?”  

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.” 

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all.  He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips. 

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase  it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly. 

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough.  The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most. 

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship. 

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album. 

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts. 

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?” 

“You…you wrote a song about me?” 

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded. 

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention. 

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now. 

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—” 

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.” 

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.” 

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap. 

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.” 

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.” 

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied.  You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.” 

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together. 

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?” 

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.” 

“But I wanted to know.” 

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.” 

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.” 

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.” 

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Student Council President! Geto Suguru”

Synopsis: Slightly obsessed but his heart is in the right place baby, I swear- after all, as the student council president, he knows and wants what is best for you<3

— Word Count: 0.65k

— A/n: Because cmon, we all love ourself a lawful bully<3 and people loved him on my last blog too so he deserved another — also, Sports Team Captain! Gojo Satoru is the bestest boy too!

— Warnings: !NSFW! MDNI—Geto Suguru x AFAB! Reader; slight bullying(?)—consensual; abuse of power; vouyerism (hints of it); written porn without much plot; spanking; mentions of threesome(with gojo)

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who’s all so nice and warm to everyone he talks to- everyone, except you- especially when he has you pinned underneath form, fingers bullying your cunt.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who’s smitten eyes follow you as you leave the room with a frown when you get a bad test score- only to corner you later and fill you up with his cock as he gloats about just how much better he performed.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who’s smile widens as your tears ruin your makeup and you stuff your mouth with cock— oh just how long he’d wanted to see you this way, especially since you ran your pretty little mouth all too much for his liking.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who deliberately signs your name under different activities so to overwhelm you- and to grab the opportunity to “help” you out.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who despite all his bullying— has always helped you cheat because he only wants your face ruined by the tears he gave you.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who climbs into your dormitory late at night with a smirk— why? Oh, to punish you for cheating.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who speaks highly of you to all his friends and teachers but whispers the dirtiest stuff into your ear- tipping you right over the edge with just his words.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who has no issues spreading you during his free time, on the table of the teacher he despises—and you adore; his tongue rubbing slow circles on your clit as he makes you recite a whole paragraph from his book, his palm falling flat on your swollen folds with every stutter and pause.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who has a camera roll of just you- with your fucked out little faces- he would never release them but lord’s forbid the number of times he’s excused himself from lectures to jerk off to these.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who takes pleasure in dress coding you on days you look absolutely phenomenal (and to him, it is daily)— taking you to the empty gym and bending you over instantly to fuck your cunt.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who intimidated everyone into staying away from you and then bullies you for not getting any attention from others— and ingraining in your mind, that he is the only one for you.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who takes it to the teachers to become your personal tutor—now having a free access to your dormitory.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who pushes your ass higher and your face lower as he gets you in all fours to punish you for not paying attention.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who would smirk as he watches you trouble sitting in lectures and wonders if it’s because of how hard ducked you or because of him turning your pretty little ass bright red.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who’s always been a curious one so right after the lecture he bends you over to look at the sight of your lovely ass- still a bit red from the spanking he delivered- kissing it to assure you that you were his good girl for taking it all.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who’s best friend, Soccer team captain! Gojo Satoru also seems to have a liking for you so he lets him join in your humiliation.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who will send you to lectures with your panties soiled or usually without them- casually flipping your skirt up too see however many would notice.

Student Council President! Geto Suguru, who will on his generous days send you to lectures with a vibrator stuffed in you— and let you cum— on days when he isn’t generous…well, have fun with soiled panties and a red ass (sometimes a swollen pussy too!)

All of this work is entirely original— please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[chaosandmarigolds]

I’m laying in bed and drastically bored so I present-

Whatever this could be classified as (fem!reader, (literally a millisecond mention of pregnancy) ypos cause it’s written on my phone :) )

Dad!Simon, who has a sick spouse and child at the same time and he doesn’t feel great either but he’ll DIE with that information

Simon who got sprite, saltines, and just about everything he could think of from the store and yet you and Ollie were still unable to keep anything down

You laugh it off, saying it happens every year, just a school bug and you’ll be fine in no time

Ollie is playing it up, he doesn’t feel good but as soon as he sees his father look worried and willingly offer him ice cream for breakfast- oh lil guy is going to Oscars for his performance

Simon who peppers kisses to your skin even though you every much tell him he will get sick- well tricks on you because he already feels sick

Simon who calls Missus Price for that soup she made that one time from like eight years ago (technically it had been for her husband John but John was unconscious at the time so Simon and Johnny had it-anyway-) when they were deployed and she delivered!

Missus Price, Eliza, who tsk tsks at the state of the Riley family and tells Simon to sit because good God everyone looked like they were on the brink of death and that would not do

So she happily tidies everything up, puts some defusers on to help the congestion, makes sure everyone takes their medication (has to literally threaten Ollie, but as soon as Grandad was brought up the child obliged) made two meals and put them away, did the laundry, and left a little note “Feel better, loves.” Before leaving around midnight that night.

Simon who really woke up feeling a lot better, stretching in the bed to find Ollie laying diagonally across the bed still fast asleep and you were no where to be seen- expect for leaning against the cold bathtub in the bathroom

Simon who groggily sits down next to you, eyes squinting against the light and moving you to lean into him

“This sucks.”

“I know, ‘a jus drainage though, it’ll go away.”

“Allergies suck.”

“Agree with ya.”

A few moments pass

“Your fever broke.”

You’re not wrong, but the way your rasped and hoarse voice mumbles it almost made him laugh, “Oh? Ho’ ya know?”

“You’re sweaty, that’s how. And olls-“

“Still sleeping.”

“Mmkay.”

Simon who would happily carry you to the ends of the earth but at the moment back to bed would do

Simon who went down to the kitchen to get your tea when he found the note, reading it and giving a silent thank you to whatever god sent him such a sweet woman- yet faltered when he sees the little blue and white box, it’s a sticky note attached saying “just in case”

Simon who didn’t think about and brought you the tea and turned on the tv, having you tucked under his arm and Ollie very groggily watching Bluey

(Yeah idk what this is, maybe I had too much melatonin. I’m so sorry you’re subjected to this. Anyway….thats it <3)

[galamalion]

꒰ა໒꒱ ‧₊˚ luffy in the bedroom﹕

luffy is so incredibly dumb.

he doesn't realize when you're tired out, messily eating you out without a care in the world because there's no way he's missing out on a free meal, especially not one as sweet as this one!

while your eyes are glazed over, luffy is just licking his lips and telling you how tasty you are, pulling your hips closer to his for round two. his praises don't quite reach your ears after being eaten out like a piece of fresh meat, but you can still appreciate his kisses as they pepper your skin.

he cannot get over the sound his balls make when they slap against your skin, and he goes faster and harder to hear it louder. not to mention the bulge that forms in your belly with each thrust he makes, rubbing a hand over it much to your pleasure.

cumming once just isn't enough for luffy. a primal urge demands he fills you up until you're nice and full. before he considers you full, however, he's pretty much spent, collapsing on top of you in a heap.

little aftercare is performed, not that you're in a state of mind to care, way too full of cum and tired to want at least a towel. having a boyfriend for a pillow is honestly the best thing for you in your current state.

luffy might be a little dumb, but rest assured he always delivers.

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner, and today I have something surprisingly not kiss-related—though it is still about the final fifteen because hey, gotta keep the brand image.

I read this post by @goodoldfashionednightingale and began typing a small response. Then I made the mistake of drinking half a litre of coffee on an empty stomach right after taking my adhd meds and my brain began vibrating at the speed of light.

But oh, have I discovered parallels. This, my friends, is about the nightingale, where it comes from, what it means, and what the fuck happened in part 3 of 1941.

Ready? Let's go.

Now, as OP said in her post, s1e3 is important. In the script book, Neil himself says that these flashbacks are where the producers would tell him to cut scenes to save money. They suggested every single one—except for the one he ended up taking out, which was the bookshop opening scene set in 1800. The others are building blocks, you need them to see how their relationship progressed and what kind of important milestones they had.

(side note: author is very miffed that english does not have a separate subjunctive form like german which makes quoting lines way more confusing than it has to be)

The one I want to mention is neither 1941 nor 1967. No, what I want to talk about is 1601. This might be about to get a bit rambly but I will do my best to keep it tidy.

The focus of that flashback is on the Arrangement, yes, but it gives us a lot more information than that.

they both see Shakespeare's plays regularly, maybe even meet in the crowd

Crowley prefers the comedies

Aziraphale does not seem to have a preference, he enjoys the tragedies and presumably the comedies too

there is an oyster woman selling food -> reference to their meeting in Rome when Aziraphale tempted him to try some oysters

Aziraphale reflexively denies their relationship

Crowley might say he is not worried but circles Aziraphale the entire time, keeping watch

they both ask favours of each other and both agree to do them

What stands out to me in relation to what I am about to expand on is the line that Crowley delivers after Aziraphale's little 'buck up'—which Crowley finds adorable btw but that's a post for another time.

"Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety."

Why would he say that? What exactly is prompting this? WHY say that specific line?

At first I thought it might be to tempt Shakespeare because he does commit art theft by just copying that line down, BUT I think there is more to that. So much more, in fact. I am wiggling now because I am very excited about this and my adhd meds are kicking in anyway.

First things first: the line itself.

It appears in Shakespeare's play Antony and Cleopatra, a romantic tragedy, which was first performed in 1607 aka six years after this meeting. Enobarbus is talking about Cleopatra and describing why Antony won't leave her. Her.

Ccrowley uses his—again, who is he even talking about? Hamlet? Shakespeare? Random poetic quote?

No, I think this line is about Aziraphale and it's a code. Right after, the next line from Aziraphale is "What do you want?", meaning that this is their code phrase for 'I have a favour to ask of you'.

Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety

Age will not affect his appearance nor will he ever become boring to Antony. Crowley, who later chooses the name Anthony for himself, tells Aziraphale, an immortal, that he will never age and that he will never grow bored of him.

It's flattery, pure and simple, and it's code at the same time. This establishes the important fact that they might use more of Shakespeare's work as code/already have a system in place (even though he steals Crowley's line for later).

They play their little morality game of back and forth, Aziraphale agrees, Crowley probably manipulates the coin toss, and THEN we find out that the oyster woman is called Juliet.

Why? What is the meaning of that? Why give her a name and that name in particular? Why bring the sexy oysters back into it?

Romeo and Juliet premiered in 1597, so it is safe to assume they have both seen it by 1601, but this is mostly for the audience, not for us-or is it?

Aziraphale gives Crowley puppy eyes until he agrees to make Hamlet popular, and while I don't think Juliet itself is a code word, although it's very interesting that the OYSTER woman is the one with that name (especially adding what we now know about Job), Romeo and Juliet might be.

Yes, the Nightingale song came out in 1940 but the bird has been around for much, much longer, and, as many probably know by now, also shows up in Romeo and Juliet.

This is where I am starting to vibrate at the speed of light because listen to me. Listen.

Crowley is Juliet. Anthony J. Crowley. Antony Juliet Crowley.

(side note: I'm not saying that Crowley chose it based on that—though I am not not saying that—but that it is a clue for us at the audience.)

Why do I think that? In the play, Romeo spends the night with Juliet and then goes to leave as the night begins to end. Juliet tries to stop him and tells him that the birds they are hearing aren't larks, which sing at dawn, but nightingales, which sing at night.

Who is the one always pushing for more? Crowley. He is the one trying to convince Aziraphale it's safe, they're safe to spend time together.

Romeo disagrees with Juliet and says 'I must be gone and live, or stay and die'.

Leave and stay alive, or stay and hell/heaven will punish us. It gets even better though.

We all know how Romeo and Juliet ends: Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, kills himself, Juliet finds him and then kills herself too.

Hey, do you know how Antony and Cleopatra ends?

Antony thinks Cleopatra is dead, kills himself and dies in her arms, then Cleopatra also kills herself—by snake poison; Romeo also died by poison.

The parallels are THERE. They are jumping down our throats! Two tragedies, two sides, several familiar names and phrases, same fear, same ending.

I think by now you can guess how this ties back to 1941.

We do not see how that night ends, but we know it ends. One of them wants to stretch it out, maybe even quotes Romeo and Juliet because look at the setting!

Candlelight, wonderful night they spend together, the threat of Crowley's early demise, and, to quote the play once more, this time Romeo: I have more care to stay than will to go.

Crowley thought it was his last night on earth and went with Aziraphale to his bookshop, to be with him, because he cares more about that than the fact that he will be dragged to hell come morning. Do you remember?

"Expect a legion to come for you first thing tomorrow" THAT is the threat. They have until dawn, just like Romeo and Juliet, which is why she is so desperate for the birds to be nightingales. Fortunately for them, Aziraphale saves the day, BUT there is NO SECURITY. They do not KNOW if a legion will still show up or not. If dawn is a deadline and they will need to fight.

Sure, they improved their chances, but who knows? Maybe they will come for him anyway, it's not like hell is all fair and square.

The best part: it gets even better.

Juliet eventually panics and tells him to go, and Romeo drops a line that huh, sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?

'More light and light, more dark and dark our woes!'

Remind me, what does Aziraphale say again? Ah, yes. Perhaps there is something to be said for shades of grey.

There is more. Yes, even more. We know the whole rescue relies on a magic trick, a switch. Guess what Juliet yearns for while telling Romeo to go save himself?

Oh, now I would they had changed voices too. While they did not for Romeo and Juliet—they kiss and part—they did for our two. One fabulous switch and we're good.

(side note: Toads? Associated with hell. Larks? Associated with the dawn, yes, but also heaven since Romeo says 'Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads.')

So, this was a whole lot of information, let's see if I can summarize my thoughts.

I believe the nightingale is a code word that has existed even before 1941 and gained a lot of importance over the years. In 1941, the song is added to the meaning and whatever happened between the two that we have not seen yet, it fundamentally changed their relationship. Maybe they kissed, maybe one of them tried to convince the other to prolong the night but they parted on not-great terms.

The nightingale and the song become a symbol of hope, a goal to achieve, another uninterrupted night, maybe, or an uninterrupted life.

When they part in the final fifteen, it's morning. Crowley points at the sky and says "no nightingales", which at that point has several different layers to it.

No nightingales because their night is over, just like with Romeo and Juliet, and please, please allow me to add another detail, because I am frothing at the mouth over this. The scene I quoted, known as balcony scene, do you know what it is preceded by?

A ball.

Star-crossed lovers defying their sides, falling in love at a ball, getting a hurried, wonderful night together but torn apart by danger of punishment, the nightingale as a dream, as a wish for unhurried time together. Family rejection, torn apart by parents, willing to die for each other so they can reunite in death.

No nightingales. The ball, the romance, is over, their dancing is over, heaven is tearing them apart, and Aziraphale returns to heaven while they are both stuck in a pit of misunderstanding and miscommunication, all bound together by fear for each other.

The thing is, Crowley hates tragedies, he never liked the "gloomy ones", and he does not want them to end in one—luckily, this isn't the end. Yes, they kiss and part, but the play keeps going. We have an entire act 3 to fix what Romeo and Juliet couldn't, to ensure that this is a COMEDY, not a tragedy.

Both Antony & Cleopatra and Romeo & Juliet died out of fear, hurried into making bad decisions because they knew what would happen if their sides were to catch up with them.

Crowley and Aziraphale can reunite heaven and hell with love, not death. This is THEIR story and they are writing the ending. No more day and night, no more deadlines, no more hiding and sneaking about, no more fear of larks and sunshine.

Good Omens will end the way it began: In a garden with two no-longer-star-crossed lovers embracing the song of a lark as well as that of the nightingale.

I hope this made sense to everyone who was no present while my mind started to vibrate itself into a puddle because the thing is I can see Neil doing all of this completely on purpose.

Thoughts? Questions? Additions? Come and join me in my insanity and until next time I have a mental breakdown over this show (probably in like two hours).

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Machiko Kyō (Rashomon, Floating Weeds, Older Brother Younger Sister)— Considered an early sex symbol in Japanese cinema. Also just an ethereal beauty who can also go feral/unhinged in a glorious way.

Judy Garland (Meet Me In St. Louis, A Star is Born, Summer Stock)— Judy is the GOAT when it comes to classic movie musicals. The voice of an angel who deserved so much better than she got. She can sing she can dance she can act she's a triple threat. Though she had a turbulent personal life (her treatment as a child star by the studio system makes me mad as hell like Louis b Mayer fight me ((she was made to believe that she was physically unattractive by the constant criticism of film executives who made her feel ugly and who manipulated her onscreen appearance by capping her teeth and using discs in her nose to change its shape and Mayer called her "my little hunchback" like imagine hearing that as a child and not having damage)) she always goddamn delivered on screen and in any performance she gave. She began in vaudeville performing with her sisters and was signed to MGM at 13. Starting out in supporting parts especially paired with mickey Rooney in a bunch of films (she's the best part tbh) she eventually transferred to the lead role. She is best known for her starring role in movie musicals like the iconic Wizard of Oz (somewhere over the rainbow still hits hard and is ranked the top film song of all time), meet me in St. Louis (Judy singing have your self a merry little Christmas brings tears to the eyes she is that powerful), the Harvey girls (she looks like a technicolor dream and sings a catchy af song about trains), Easter parade ( dancing and singing with Fred Astaire), for me and my gal, the pirate, and summer stock ( with pal Gene Kelly who she helped when he was starting out and he helped her when she was struggling). But she also does non- singing just as well like the clock ( her first movie where she sings no songs and is an underrated ww2 era romance), her Oscar nominated a star is born ( like the man that got away she put her whole soul in that and I have beef with the fact she lost to grace kelly ((whom I love but like still not even her best work)), and judgement at Nuremberg (a courtroom drama about the nazi war criminal trials). Outside of film she made concert appearances to record-breaking audiences, released 8 studio albums, and had her own Emmy-nominated tv series. She was the youngest (39) and first female recipient of the Cecil B DeMille award for lifetime achievement in the film industry. Girl was a lifelong democrat and was a financial and moral supporter of many causes including the civil rights movement (she was at the March on Washington and held a press conference to protest the 16th street Baptist church bombings). She was a friend of the Kennedy family and would call jfk weekly often ending the calls by singing the first few lines of somewhere over the rainbow (she thought of them as Gemini twins).She was a member of the committee for the first amendment which was formed in response to the HUAC investigations. Though she died far too young and tragically she remains an icon for her work and her life. As a girl who didn't feel like i was as pretty as everyone else I have always felt a connection to Judy and I just really love her.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Machiko Kyō:

Judy:

Judy's voice alone qualifies her for at least top ten hottest HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMEN. She was a truly incredible swing singer, with a stunning voice on top of her technique. Her short dark hair looked incredible in just about any style. Have I mentioned her swagger? I can’t do it justice with words. She had swagger. She was funny as hell, and clever too. Incredibly charming and cool. I adore her.

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

[yandere-toons]

Matthew Patel

Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: violence, death, implied stalking, mentions of religious concepts, toxic mindset.

From the moment you invite Matthew into your life, he will carry that memory to his deathbed. The bond you forged that day is unbreakable and immortal for him: he will go blind to all other reasons for living, consumed with rage at your absence, and ecstatic at any sign of your favour.

Talk of other suitors sends Matthew into a frenzy from which he will not emerge until this obstacle to his happiness is laid low. Dispute over the value of certain traits leaves Matthew resentful—of himself for not being better, of the other person for possessing what he lacks, and of the universe for cursing him with such horrid luck.

When such a person speaks your name, Matthew is driven by his own insecurities to loathe them. The sound of their voice becomes like a cheese grater to his ears, a reminder of how close he is to losing his world for the second time, and from thence into a sound he will fight to the death to silence.

The look of this person, particularly when they light up at the mere mention of you and receive such a look in kind, is a ghastly thing. Matthew's takeaway is one of doubt and bad memories, of all the similarities to Ramona's waning interest that he had been too immature and inattentive to rectify. He vows not to make the same mistake twice.

Seemingly overnight, Matthew transforms from a brooding presence lurking in your shadow to a wellspring of offers to solve even the smallest of issues. He makes a habit of dropping to one knee and delivering a Pagliacci-esque soliloquy about how deep his affection runs, professing that you've become his whole world and that to lose you would leave him with nothing.

Despite your promise not to "betray" him, as Matthew so graciously puts it, he fears it would be a mistake to let his guard down. He believes you were sincere at the time, but Ramona's flippant attitude has left him anxious that you may change your tune and turn your back on him for no apparent reason.

For years, Matthew sought answers as to why she hurt him: on bad days, he blames her for playing with his emotions; on worse days, he blames himself for not trying hard enough to become someone she wanted. Now that he has another shot at human connection, this earth will burn before it slips away from him.

Matthew's actions arise from a peculiar sense of justice: he views himself as retribution sent down upon all those who have wronged you. By daring to replace him, their way of looking after you is inherently and unforgivably flawed. Someone who could, in reality, be quite decent will devolve in his mind into a parasite who takes advantage of you.

Whether they are cruel or kind-hearted, what obsesses Matthew and keeps him stewing for potentially years is the notion that they've robbed him of his one chance at happiness. So long as they keep you company, he sees his future darkening.

What should be a private affair, Matthew turns into a spectacle: he takes to the stage in his most flamboyant attire and declares war, goading his enemy to meet their doom at his hand. Everything, from the venue to the battle itself, is a power play, a performance art in which he displays his prowess for all to admire and envy.

Once he has struck the first blow, there is no version of events where Matthew shows mercy or admits defeat. The harder they fight, the prouder he is to butcher them. Their death will be a triumph, a testament to the fact that he is strong enough to win this war. Anyone who rolls over in the face of his challenge must not be truly committed to you and therefore deserves to feel his wrath for stringing you along.

Coming to over the shiny remains of his enemy, Matthew forgets his rage and revells in the thought of having the sole being who brings him happiness. Ready to pick up where he left off and confident he's earned that right, Matthew throws himself at you and proclaims how thrilled he is to be together again.

Matthew struggles to move beyond the past and to envision a future where he is alone. Having spent much of his life pursuing others, Matthew has no concept of living for himself. He stakes his survival on the volume of applause at the end of every performance, and in the home environment, his tendency to cling to petty recognition has taken root in all interactions.

This emotional hunger reveals itself in the unnecessary extremes to which Matthew proves his devotion, convinced that the obsequious nature of his company and continual sacrifices gives them meaning. He jumps at every opportunity to be near you, no exceptions, afraid that missing even one will be termed neglect and spell the ruin of his life with you.

At his best, Matthew is an unrelenting thespian who serenades you with ballads and calligraphic poetry. But at his worst, he is an unstable and violent creature full of pent-up rage, who conspires with Daemonettes to bind your soul to his, making it virtually impossible to give him up for another.

[jeysmullet]

Hi there!! Could I please request a Jey fic, about him having baby fever and having to convince reader to stop contraceptives.

The way you make me feel | Jey Uso

jey uso x female!wife!reader

warnings: swearing, talks of creampies, mentions of birth control, anxiety, jey is pure nasty. no actual smut tho because i don’t know if that’s something you didn’t want!

short !! sorry:(

y/n fatu

The house was quiet as I sat alone at the kitchen island studying the unopened pack of birth control that had just been delivered. I had been taking them ever since my career in WWE had taken off, simply due to the fact that i didn’t want to mess up my job just because I ended up pregnant. I snap out of my daze as I hear the garage door open and shut. I hear footsteps get closer to the kitchen before i feel a pair of arms wrap around me, i slightly turn my head to look at my husband, who had already been looking at me, smiling.

“what’s up mama,” Josh looked away from me and looked at the packaging in my hand, making his face drop, before looking back at me , “you still taking those?”

I roll my eyes laughing at his mood change, “yes I am, Josh, you know it’s too risky for me to stop taking them, especially cause someone likes to nut in me every time we fuck, acting like you can’t wait to get me pregnant.”

I heard Josh suck his teeth before bringing his hands down to my hips, guiding me off of the island stool i was sitting on. He turns me to face him before he runs his ring cluttered fingers over the fabric of my grey sundress, before his hands land on my backside. “I mean can you blame me, baby? I mean fuck, you know how many people would die to be in my position. How many people would die to be the one fucking you every night and filling your pretty pussy up till nut is spilling out. Of course, I want a baby with yo little sexy ass.” Josh spanks my ass making me gasp.

“I mean Josh, are we even ready for a kid? We’re on the road all the time.” I spoke softly as Josh pulls me close enough to him so I can feel his dick print, through the sweatpants he was wearing, on my thigh.

“Mama, we can always take time off. I wanna start a family with you. I’ve wanted to ever since i saw yo ass in them lil ass shorts at the performance center. I automatically thought damn she fine as hell, she definitely gon have my kids.” I laugh before slapping him on the chest.

“I’m for real, Josh. A kid is a lot of work. I want you to be serious with me if you want to go through with this with me.” Josh brought his hands back to my ass, cupping it. “I am serious. I’ve always wanted you to be the mother of my kids. Shit the process of making them a plus too.” I laugh as I roll my eyes.

“Fine, I’ll stop taking the birth control.” Josh’s face lights up at my words before he looks behind me on the island table, reaching over and grabbing the box of pills before making his way over to the trash can, throwing them away. He turned back to me with a big ass grin on his face. “You know they say practice makes perfect!” Josh runs over to me, grabbing me and lifting me up, making me wrap legs around him, giggling. In the process of my legs wrapping around him, my dress comes up exposing the fact that i wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Josh looks down before looking back up at me. “Oh yeah, we finna practice all night.” He says smirking before carrying me to the bedroom, where he kept his word. We did infact practice alllllll night.

THE END

[slowd1ving]

TALES OF A DISGRUNTLED CORVID ⁺ 　 . MOZE

Quite frankly, you've been assigned an absolute loser (unaffectionate) to work with after your dramatic exit from the Intelligentsia Guild. Whoever said this guy was too silent was wrong, as he verily proves himself as the bane of your existence with his ceaseless yapping. art credits to @code_tesseract on x!! and tagging @ilovechuuy4 as requested :3 pairings: moze + male cryptologist reader (will be part of a series methinks) warnings: male reader, mentions of assassination? may be a touch ooc since this is pre-release writing unfortunately, lowkey crack fic, pre relationship, business partnership of hating each other wc: 1.9k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s never a dull day when a certain Shadow Guard is your partner for an assignment. Truly, your life always sparkles brilliantly when the information pings on your Jade Abacus; without fail, everything gains just a bit more colour, a bit more vivaciousness. Pathetically fallacious, you might’ve described it as had you taken literature classes: mood hued with such dynamic chromaticity that you fear you might explode into little prismic rainbows. Always such a bundle of joy to be geminate with him. 

“Must you be so… disorganised?”

Oh, who are you kidding.

It’s always a dull day when you’re paired with Moze.

“Get out.” A particularly rude gesture materialises in your open hand as you stare at the door he practically kicked down. Apartments in this particular sector of the Xianzhou Yaoqing do not come cheap, and you half-wonder whether he’d eke out coin to console your landlord. Then, with an especially sour, lemon-like expression, you realise he would fork out his own money just to make your life more difficult. 

When you first got assigned work in the Yaoqing (read: kicked to the curb by the Intelligentsia Guild to gain real world experience), you really did expect your tenure to be plain office work. Letters, forms, public relations—these mundanities you anticipated. In fact, you would’ve relished such tedium; after decrypting endless scientific formulae and pondering your mysterious tomes, engaging in bureaucratic matters would be a piece of cake! A little treat for your weary eyes—if you closed them, you could still see faint imprints of equations in the theatre of your mind. 

But what you hadn’t factored into your (ahem) calculations was just how sharp the Arbiter-General Feixiao was: just how passionate she was about pursuing Abominations and ruthlessly eliminating them, just how frank and swift the Madam General was. You also forgot that out of all the flagships, the Yaoqing were one of the most militarily driven. A blunder most fatal. 

“Thy talents would be wasted in the mere administrative wing,” Feixiao gesticulated. “Come, child, put thy brain and brawn to use and track down these villainous curs most evil.”

“Goodness, Madam General!” you’d cried out pitifully. “My heart is thine for the keeping!”

Or something like that. Actually, it may have not all been like that. 

After all, you were kicked out (temporarily! temporarily!) partly due to your penchant for delivering heart-rendering performances to your professors to avoid taking on their extra work. Such moving renditions, that they had to let you go lest you broke their bleeding hearts. Had you known you’d be working in the shady corners of intelligence and decryption, you would’ve kowtowed to the Guild for utmost forgiveness. Probably. 

When your path first overlapped with the Shadow Guards’, you honestly couldn’t give two hoots about the rumours that followed silently behind their own noiseless steps. Your ears had perked somewhat at the gossip your colleagues threw back and forth—though, who could blame you. The job was no fun!

Weirdo with the crow feathers, they’d murmured. He’s so quiet. What a reticent chap. 

Of course, you’d disagree, and perhaps tack on a loser to the descriptions of Moze. You’d disagree not with the ‘weirdo’, but rather with the quiet and reticent adjectives—partly because he really does need to shut up more. 

And he needs to stick to his rumours more. If this loner’s made it a point to not work with people, then why oh why did the honourable Madam General decide your ancient science and study complemented his shady skillset? And why oh why does he never refuse her request? (You’ve conveniently forgotten how you always fold when it comes to her.) You’ve always worked alone too, for as long as you can remember; decoding the ancient equations in ruins and solving their gimmicky puzzles using your boundless wits is a job for one. 

As it stands, the people he investigates, the work he takes care of, sometimes intrudes into the realm of questionable rituals and summonings the Abominations and their ilk oft partake in. Thus do you find your career verging into some gruesome form of forensics as you stare down what would commonly be considered a murder scene: sigils and ancient alchemical algebra staring right back at you. He deals with the human aspect of intelligence: the psychology, the crime, the covert espionage. You deal with the technical fallout: the analysis of antique sciences is your specialty, after all. This has culminated in a begrudging partnership where both parties wish nothing more than to leave it. 

A business relationship, of sorts, founded on the mutual dislike (a weak description) of each other. 

“No.” He doesn’t budge from where he leans against the doorframe, but he does have the decency to swing the door closed behind him. Yet, it’s not out of any respect for the hallowed sanctity of your abode, but more because he’s sooo Mysterious and Aloof that none of your neighbours are allowed to view his visage. 

“You are—” a quick glance at your watch proves your point. For someone obsessed with keeping tidy, he sure does have messy time management. “—eighteen minutes too early.”

“And you still aren’t ready,” he counters, pointedly eyeing the loose shirt and comfortable cotton trousers slung over your hips. You yawn, tired already from his yapping. He’s been compared to a crow for as long as you’ve been here—and perhaps far longer—but to you he’s always been more like a little dog. Yap. Yap. Yap. 

This is precisely why I don’t work with others, you can almost taste his words—his thoughts. 

“You are currently the biggest hindrance to my getting ready,” you grimace. Casting a quick glance over his intricate garb, it’s no wonder he feels getting ready is such a lengthy endeavour: all straps and buckles and tough layers that makes him the walking fortress he is. “I’ll be on time.”

He doesn’t reply: laconic only when he acknowledges your point as unequivocally right, which is seldom. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” you snap as you sling the worn shirt from your body. Beneath the soft clothes is muscle hard-won through your frequent collaborations with the Armed Archaeologists in the Guild: days filled with more sparring and their stupid callisthenics than actually finding ruins. 

“Do you have to dress right here?” he counters, but it’s a futile argument—this apartment is barely big enough for you as it stands. Currently, he’s situated by the doorway, but you’re on the unseen boundaries of the living room and the tiny kitchen. Beyond is your bedroom and miniscule bathroom, of which neither have enough space to move comfortably to change. And you certainly aren’t going to sacrifice your comfort to appease his poor eyes; he’s seen worse for sure. Though, you doubt he’s ever seen a naked body that wasn’t in the context of assassination and the anatomy classes you know he’s meticulously attended for his shady work. Surreptitiously, you snicker at the thought: that there aren’t any lovers lined up for this weirdo. 

You toss the garment onto your couch, precisely because you know he’s grinding teeth over it; and there’s that tell-tale click of molar against molar. You even whistle a bit as you untie the neat bow holding your trousers to your hips; the fabric pools on the floor, and you don’t make any move to pick it up. 

There it is. His glower—red-hot and piercing through the flesh and sinew of your back—is heavy in this small space. What you don’t see, however, is how his eyes flicker briefly across your body, down the firm step of your legs as you step out of the trousers. Out of context, watching muscle ripple and twist as you strip forces crimson to seep into his face. This is an implication he’s absolutely disgusted with—with you. 

“If you have any more input as to what I do in my home, you’re welcome to pay my rent first,” you finally deign to reply, rummaging in the dresser in your hallway—which he knows has never been neat with all the clothes spilling from the edges. His eye twitches. 

“You’re an incorrigible man,” he retorts, carmine flush now from irritation rather than anything else. Irritation from the beginning, because it was never anything else. 

“Wow,” you blink, weighing your options between shirt A and shirt B. The cherry-red with straps, or the Prussian blue with straps, you muse, holding the shirts against your beloved grey cargoes. “You sound exactly like my professor. Same adjective and everything.”

When it comes to shameless people, there comes the very real risk of insults being nullified by the insulted through them simply agreeing. 

“No wonder the Guild kicked you out.” As you’re pulling the scarlet fabric over your head, you pause—it seems he’s finally hit a nerve. There’s a rare smile toying with his lips at the victory: one he doesn’t notice, but ghosts across his face nonetheless.

Now, there are many things you could reply to that with. Such as, did your parents give you a reason when they abandoned you? Nay, that is too low of a blow. No wonder you don’t have any friends. But he probably grapples with that bitter reality each morning, gnashing his teeth and beating his chest. 

“Bold of you to speak of being unwanted,” you comment matter-of-factly. Both insults it is then, wrapped neatly into an ambiguous tale of these eight words. His smile fades. 

With a slight gasp, you finally wrangle the tight material on—it’s armour, after all, a specific textile development by the Yaoqing for the protection of civilians and tourists alike, though you aren’t considered a tourist by your special work-abacus-plaque. It fits snugly against you: straps for knives sit tight against your forearms, while the harness that provides extra support for your torso rests neatly beneath your chest. The garb’s almost like a compression shirt from your home planet, except the Yaoqing has far more violent uses for it. 

“Didn’t Guard Zhí reject you?” He bites out, and it takes a minute for you to realise he’s talking about Zhí Hua, the best friend you’d made on the flagship—and your Shadow Guard drinking buddy. 

“Huh?” Dumbfoundedly, you pause in doing the buckles on your trousers, losing far more time than you’d bargained for. “A-hua is my friend.”

The diminutive doesn’t go unnoticed, which rankles him far more than falling prey to the rumour about you and his fellow Guard. No, both rankle him—likely because hearing about a workplace romance about you just disgusts him in general. 

“Pfft,” you snort out, finally done with the laborious task of adjusting the materiel and various other gadgets attached to your body. “I have got to tell her about this. Who knew your ability to gather information would be stopped by a rumour?”

The tightness in his chest lessens somewhat. 

“Besides, everyone already knows my heart belongs to the Madam General,” you sigh, clasping your hands to your chest in a dreamy gesture. It’s an ongoing joke: you professing your deep adoration of Feixiao after she gives you a pay raise for putting up with the so-called ‘reticent’ Moze. “Woah, what’s with the sour look?”

“Gross,” he mutters. 

As you step near the doorway to grab your boots, you lean into his space mockingly: and he recoils back in even more revulsion. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.” You pat his shoulder once, condescendingly, then promptly slip your heavy boots off the shelf. “Since there’s no one who loves you.”

And his glare as you shuffle your shoes on is poignant. 

 ₊  ⋆   ☾

[c0nn0rsseur]

Can we take a moment to appreciate Bryan Dechart’s performance as Cyberlife Tower Connor aka Sixty and Sixty as a character? 🤌

Though Sixty and deviant Connor are physically identical (minus their demeanors, e.g. the way they stand and walk, like wow, Bryan, wow) and their voices technically aren’t different from each other, the distinction is still clearly there, at the same time it’s so nuanced too. Sixty sounds condescending, imperious and callous compared to deviant Connor whose voice is empathetic, curious and sincere. I’m not even talking about their lexicon, their choice of words here (there’s of course a difference too). Even when Sixty tries to convince Hank he’s the real Connor, you can hear how he’s failing to sound exactly like his counterpart because he can’t replicate deviant Connor’s voice and speech pattern just so. Sixty’s also being very commanding when trying to fool Hank into shooting the real Connor (Hank even gets irritated because of it). Damn that’s brilliant acting, all hats off to Bryan. His performance in this game never fails to impress me. (I wish there were dialogue for RK900 too, I would’ve loved to see Bryan’s take on his voice and presence.)

Also also I have to mention I love the take that Sixty really was a deviant all along too, an ”evil” version of Connor if you will; cold, calculating and even enjoying the situation he had Connor (and Hank) in. You know, doing all of it because he wanted to, because he liked it. Why else would he deliver a whole ass villain monologue before executing deviant Connor, gloating about how he knows what he is and that he is the obedient, favorite child, plus calling Connor a disappointment (and a disappointment to him especially, like how Connor should care in his final moments that Sixty despises him for not being a good little robot)? AND shooting him several times non-lethally before landing that final shot (if the story goes there), like savoring the situation. Of course he also has to ask if Connor has any last words too. That’s definitely not what an efficient machine would have done to make sure it accomplished its mission. In some outcomes his stalling costs him the victory.

Top that off with the ending where deviant Connor dies but the androids still wake up, Sixty is scared and emotional because he failed, scared to be deactivated because of his failure. Then there’s this scene where he shoots deviant Connor eleven times in front of his friend. After that Sixty takes in Hank’s reaction and even torments him by saying Connor’s death was his fault. Still doesn’t sound like a machine much, huh? More like a sadistic psychopath.

Man, I wish we could’ve seen more Sixty, it would’ve been chilling to see if he went full-on rogue, maybe being Markus’ right hand/attack dog on a leash in the violent revolution arc, maybe with his own agenda of taking Markus’ place and wanting to subjugate humanity. Or maybe deviant Connor could’ve persuaded him to their side by making Sixty to see he was nothing but a tool, unintentionally prompting him to seek revenge and to reduce Amanda and Cyberlife to atoms (not what Connor intended haha). There could’ve even been a redemption arc for him, like in a ”what’ve I done?” type way. You know, a bit of an internal moral struggle. And of course, our fave ”sack of shit” (as Hank so eloquently put it) demanding answers from his maker, Kamski, in a not-so, uh, conventional manner. Let them measure their respective arrogance and wit and see who comes out on top. Or would they team up?

Such a delicious character, so many delicious what-ifs.

[k1ngdom-of-thieves]

Dorm leaders with a female singer reader?

Yup yup!

Dorm Leaders + Female Singer Reader!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is very impressed by your technique and talent. He understands that singing for more than just fun takes a ton of effort, and he’s very proud of you for being able to stick with it.

He loves when he you offer to perform at Heartslabyul’s Unbirthday parties. These were few and far between, since he didn’t want you to strain your voice too much by asking you to make an constant appearance.

When it’s just the two of you, he usually likes to talk over tea. Not only does it soothe your throat, it also gives the two of you ample time to chitchat without anyone needing him.

Your voice is one of his favorite things. To him, you sound as lovely as a songbird. Nothing would ever compare, and he adores it when he gets to hear you.

“Thank you once again for performing, it was quite exemplary. Hm? I don’t need to be so formal? Very well. Thank you for singing for me, I’d love to hear you do it again.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona likes your voice. No need for flowery language or something. He tells you straight up, and fairly often too.

He can hear you singing from pretty far away, so it’s not uncommon for him to mention it from time to time. It confuses you the first couple of times but you eventually remember that most beastmen hear better than humans in the first place.

When you sing or hum to yourself, he finds it quite cute. Especially if it’s a song you’re practicing for a performance. He likes the feeling of being one of the first people to hear your rendition of it.

You didn’t hear this from me, but if you have an upcoming performance, he’s going to send you some things to ease your nerves. It’s pretty common to see Ruggie bitching muttering about having to “deliver another goodie basket”. He’s not mad at you; just your partner.

“Huh? Ruggie dropped by a little while ago? Hm, wonder what that was about. What? Don’t give me that look, it’s just a coincidence that you’ve got a performance comin’ up.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul immediately tries to figure out how to incorporate you into the lounge. You’ve got a beautiful voice, and he has the perfect platform to show it off. It’s just a perfect combination, no?

Of course, that’s only if you want to. He might be cruel to his employees, but he’d never turn and use the same cruelty on you.

He’ll show up to every one of your performances. The only exception is if something at the Monstro Lounge is making work late; but he’ll be sure to make it up to you later.

Although it isn’t mentioned much, he is also a good singer. Whether it’s his naturally or he got it through a contract is up for debate. If you wanted to have a duet, it might take some convincing but he’d ultimately be willing to do it.

“Oh? Are you sure you want me on stage with you? You’re not gonna let up are you? Fine, I’ll sing with you. But just this once.”

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim loves the fact that you sing! It’s a very common sight to see you and him sharing a song. Even if he’s very off-key at times.

He wants everyone to be able to hear your voice, so he’s the most supportive of any of your wishes. Want to perform at a big venue? He’s your guy. Want to have your work recorded? He knows twenty guys.

If you prefer to stay locally, that’s also fine by him. He’ll show up to each and every one of your performances, as well as staying until after it’s over so he can talk with you.

Karaoke nights at Scarabia go absolutely wild with the two of you. You, since you’re literally a professional, and Kalim because he has So Much Energy. It’s basically just giving his dorm-mates a free concert.

“Hey! They’re really liking our show! How about we give them an encore?” You’ve been going for nearly twenty minutes and your voice is tired.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is also accustomed to being on the stage so if you want any advice, he’s your guy. He’ll be pretty strict, but he’s just trying to push you to be the best.

He’ll have you do some of the training that he does for himself. Whether it be grueling hikes or practicing for hours to perfect your posture, you’re definitely gonna show quick progress. While hurting in places you didn’t know could hurt.

He’s more than happy to have you accompany him to the events he gets invited to. Even more so if you’re offered to preform.

Unfortunately, he won’t be able to attend all of your shows due to scheduling conflicts, but he still tries to make it to the vast majority. If it’s being recorded, he will watch it and still support you that way. If not, he’ll call you after it’s over to congratulate you on your show.

“Hello dear, how was your show? I’m very sorry I couldn’t make it, I’ll do my best to make it to the next one. I promise you. It’s been far overdue for me to support you in person.”

Idia Shroud

Idia immediately becomes your biggest fan. You thought he was passionate about his idols? That increases tenfold when he’s cheering you on.

Although you’re more likely to see his tablet where he’s should be, you’ll still hear his cheers through it’s speakers. In fact, the little screen will show you new cute emoticons while you sing to keep you motivated.

He’ll ramble about you to just about anyone who’ll ask. Soon the poor soul talking to him will know your entire discography and the dates of all your best performances. Spoiler: it’s all of them.

While he’ll basically melt into a nervous puddle if you ask him to sing with you onstage, he’ll be more willing to sing if it’s just the two of you. And maybe Ortho if he asks.

“Huh?! You wanna do Karaoke? With me?! But I’m not nearly the same rank as you are! I mean… I guess it’ll be cool if it’s just us. But no recording, okay?!”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus absolutely adores your singing. No matter what genre you sing, he’ll sit and listen the entire time.

If you have a performance, please tell him like a week in advance. That way he won’t loose track of the days and actually make it. He actually marks it on a little calendar in his room, it’s adorable.

He’d be over the moon if you ask him to have a duet with you. Although most of the songs he knows are centuries old, he’d love to sing something that you know.

It becomes a sort of unofficial event in the Diasomnia dorm for the two of you to sing together. Partly because the Malleus Draconia is singing and you two make really pleasing harmonies in the mostly quiet dorm.

“I wouldn’t mind if you taught me a song you enjoyed. Although I may not be able to return the favor. All of my favorites are just lullabies that were sang to me years ago.”

[rip-quizilla]

We Could Be Beautiful: Dead Girl Walking

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

🔹An AU in which you and Eddie are both actors in a community theater production of Heathers: The Musical🔹

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: Just an idea I’ve had rolling around in my head for a while. This will probably become a series of short blurbs within this AU, taking place between the auditions and the cast party following the final performance of the show.

Tags: mutual pining, unconfessed feelings, allusions to sex, passing mention of suicide (pertaining to the plot of Heathers), references to Heathers: the Musical, song lyrics

If you’d like a visual for the scene described from the original musical, click here

🔹divider made by @k1ssyoursister 🔹

You took your role as Veronica’s understudy seriously. 

You’d copied down every stage direction, every line, every director’s note- you’d made sure you were prepared. Now, the ultimate test would determine just how prepared for this you really were.

Barb, the actress playing Veronica, had warned you that her sister might go into labor early, and that had been exactly what happened. That meant she would be in the delivery room on opening night, and every program in every audience member’s hand would have a little insert with your picture on it, alongside your name followed by “-will be playing the role of Veronica Sawyer.”

Already, you had managed to make it to the first quarter of the show. “Beautiful” had gone without a hitch, and you’d gotten through “Fight for Me” without your voice cracking. But next was “Dead Girl Walking,” and you were just about ready to fling yourself in front of a bus. Or drink some drain cleaner. 

You hadn’t rehearsed this song with Eddie yet; you knew the words, knew the blocking, knew exactly which note you were expected to sing and every riff you had to hit. But standing behind that velvet curtain as you waited for your cue, you were practically on the verge of a panic attack. When you finally had to enter the stage, you channeled it all- the panic, the nerves, the terror of what comes after tonight.

I need it hard

I’m a dead girl walking

I’m in your yard

I’m a dead girl walking 

You’d watched him sing this song with Barb so many times, and each time you’d wished it was you- now, you had your chance. 

Sorry, but I really had to wake you

See, I’ve decided I must ride you ‘til I break you

Tonight I’m yours, 

I’m your dead girl walking

Get on all fours, 

Kiss this dead girl walking

You knew Eddie’s wide, wet eyes were those of an actor. The eyes of JD as he watches the girl of his dreams. Still, the heat and want you felt right now wasn’t Veronica’s- it was purely yours. So you let it feed Veronica’s words as you held his face in your tender hands and told JD the things you wished you could say to Eddie.

And you know, you know, you know

It’s ‘cause you’re beautiful

You say you’re numb inside

But I can’t agree

You were the one in the blue blazer now. Tonight, he was your JD, and you were scared shitless that when your lips hit his in a stage kiss that was supposed to have so much fire it set the stage ablaze, it might feel a little bit too real. 

So the world’s unfair

Keep it locked out there

In here it’s beautiful

Let’s make this beautiful

Eddie- JD- gazed at you with all the wonder and adoration of a man on his knees for a generous god. His head shook gently, bewildered by his luck as he delivered the next line. “That works for me.”

Then your lips were on him, and for a second you let yourself pretend he was kissing you back and not Veronica. His mouth was warm, his hands hungry as they roamed over your clothes and subtly squeezed until you felt your blazer’s polyester pucker.

When you pulled away for your high note, you gazed into his eyes and saw nothing but truth looking back at you. That fire you’d been feeling all this time was reflected in his eyes tonight. Sure, maybe it’s the stage lights. Maybe he’s just a really good actor. Maybe you’re fucking obsessed with him- but whatever it was, you felt wanted in those eyes. So yeah, you let yourself believe it. You let the script burn you alive.

Full steam ahead, 

Take this dead girl walking

Let’s break the bed,

Rock this dead girl walking

You were drunk on the awe in his gaze, the way he looked up at you like he wasn’t sure if you’d really just barged in through his window to ride him until he was a broken mess, or if you were a fantasy his mind had conjured to fuel his desire to belong to someone who would cherish all he had to give. 

Again, Eddie was a talented actor. You knew that was his interpretation of how his character felt about your character. Still, you let yourself fall into the script as you straddled his tense, shirtless body, his abs crunching under the blue stage lights in a way that made you salivate. You wondered what your spit would look like on his skin. 

You were far too horny to be professional. At least you weren’t so far gone that you couldn’t remember your blocking. 

No sleep tonight for you,

Better chug that Mountain Dew

Your heart fell into your core upon hearing Eddie’s whimpered ‘okay, okay’ in character, needy and submissive beneath you. 

Get your ass in gear,

Make this whole town disappear

His eyebrows pulled together, voice stronger and raspier as it ripped from his chest. ‘Okay, okay!’ His fingers snuck underneath your skirt, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your ass. You wished it was real. 

You eyed him like a predator eyes a kill, determined to stay in his head until he needed you for real. You ran your palm over your cheek, brought your other hand up to fist in your hair, and pretended both hands were his.

Slap me,

Pull my hair,

You grabbed his wrists forcefully, bringing them up one by one to grope each of your tits. 

Touch me 

There (left tit)

And there (right tit)

And there 

To punctuate the final syllable, you couldn’t stop an involuntary writhe of your torso into Eddie’s hands as he grasped your white button down (which was actually a snap-up) at the chest and pulled hard, simultaneously pinching your nipples through your bright blue bra and ripping open your blouse to showcase the swell of your chest for the whole audience to see. You didn’t notice them, though- you noticed the way he looked at your chest like it was the second coming of Christ. You witnessed that fractional widening of his eyes, the way he was entranced by every move you made as you writhed in his lap. 

And no more talking

Love this dead girl walking

Eddie’s voice was lightning in the wake of thunder, bright and jagged and beautifully raw with power as he crooned a harmony to your lead as the song drew to a close. This song wasn’t an easy one to sing; had you not been so distracted by how it felt to have Eddie’s hips between your thighs you might have been nervous that you’d flub your high notes- but you didn’t. In a moment of sheer improvisation you did what just felt right, and that meant grabbing Eddie by hair at the base of his neck and wrenching his head back as you rolled your hips into his.

You knew your blocking was to arch your back away from him, but instead you brought your face close enough to his that it’s possible his mic picked up your perfect, clear falsetto as you pleaded, ‘Love this dead girl walking’ with the cadence of a lover asking, begging their beloved ‘don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop’. Eddie’s eyes registered your improvisational choice, and maybe you imagined it but behind those big brown button eyes he seemed to come alive with you, sitting up even further and digging one hand into your soft, hot skin while the other flexed against the stage floor to keep him balanced. His little ‘whoa, whoa, hey, hey, yeah yeah’s were short and breathy, sounding more like moans and whimpers as he rolled the sturdy bones of his hips into you as you matched his rhythm. 

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend. If you didn’t have blocking to follow, you might have kissed him again, might have bitten his lip, might have reached for his belt buckle with reckless abandon and let a summer’s worth of pining win over in your mind. Instead, you channeled that passion into the way your hips ground into him with the fervor of a woman with nothing to lose. 

Together the two of you finished out the song with heavy breaths and belted lyrics. You writhed. He thrusted.  ‘Love this dead girl,’ your voices intertwined in a desperate dance for release from the tension between you that, at some point, had grown thick as two oak trees planted near enough to forget where one ends and the other begins.

‘Yeah!’

Your hand on his chest splayed out over faded ink. Your hips swiveled against his groin.

‘Yeah!’

His hand fisted in the plaid fabric of your skirt. That wasn’t in the blocking- had they added that? Was this improv?

‘Yeah!’

Using the grip on your skirt, he tugged you further into him as his hips bucked up just enough to bounce you on his groin and shake your exposed cleavage. Without thinking, your hand flew into his hair, grasping the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck and tugging sharply back. You weren’t supposed to do that. 

‘Ow!’

It wasn’t supposed to be a moan, but that was definitely what you would call the sound you pulled from Eddie’s mouth. A soft yet sharp, breathy moan that existed somewhere in the valley between pleasure and pain and definitely sounded more sexy and less funny, which is how it was supposed to sound. You saw Eddie’s eyes go wide as he too came to this realization. 

No matter; if you played it off, no one in the audience would know the difference. You let go of his hair and flung your hand into the air above you, reaching for heaven and belting out your last ‘Yeah’ into the stage lights that lined the rafters above you. Your back arched, and you felt one final push of Eddie’s pelvis into yours, weaker this time as he too came down from the endorphins that ravaged every thought in both your mind and his. 

Taglist (people I've been talking to about this since the idea spawned): @ghost-proofbaby, @the-unforgivenn, @munson-blurbs, @hellfire--cult

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You-Part 12

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, mentions of doctors appointments, that's it!

Pairing: BangChan x Reader

Characters: All the boys except Chan, although Chan is mentioned, Reader

A/N: The reader needs a break!!! So here we are. This one is fluffy, it feels good to me. I hope you guys like it! Also, I am pretty sure I had two seizures in the last two days (At least). Thank you to everyone for being so patient. I will try to resume my Friday schedule. Thank you so much for your understanding and well wishes!!

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Bin POV:

“Everyone ready to go?” I asked. Early in the morning the psychiatrist came in to talk to Y/N. They asked me to come in for a few seconds with Han. They let us know that they really didn’t want her anywhere near the house and to stay with at least Han and I, but it was preferable for most if not all of us to be there for at least the first week. The trauma tied to the 3 Racha house is just too much at this point, the doctors were also worried about Chan making the recovery even worse than it already is. Y/N agreed wholeheartedly and with that she was given follow up appointments. Finally the latest blood tests came just before lunch and she was given a clean bill of health and an outpatient appointment for her OBGYN. Felix, Minho, I.N., and Hyunjin all went to the DanceRacha house to start prepping for us to head there. Felix texted me that he had a few surprises for her which made me smile, she needs a good surprise right about now. 

I’m still worried about Y/N. The DanceRacha dorms are a good option, but I know that for me, I still have memories tied to Chris there. I’m wondering if that is exactly what she is thinking. I can’t help but worry about it. “Remember the deal with the doctors is for you to be away from that house and with your support system. Are you sure you don’t want a place of your own? I want you to be comfortable as you heal.” 

“I don’t have the money for that,” Y/N smiled at me. It was a reassuring one, as if she could read my mind. She and I always had this connection. Whenever I was feeling down she would pop in to see how I was doing. 

I remember one time, it was maybe 3am and I was working on lyrics. They were risky, going double the speed of the song's beat, the technique is called ‘double time’ in rapping. Fast spitting rappers do it all the time, think Eminem and Busta Rhymes. It was my first time attempting it and I contemplated each and every syllable like a landmine. Writing it wasn't the issue, it was being able to deliver it while dancing. Those syllables take up a lot of air, not to mention the brutality that comes with dancing and singing at the same time. Our steps aren't insanely difficult, but they definitely take up oxygen like no one's business. So I'd get up, do push ups, jumping jacks, burpees, anything to get my heart rate up to about what it would be when performing, then I'd try to deliver the lines. Doing this is always painful, your body is screaming at you to stop talking, hunch over, and gasp for air. Obviously, we can't do that, so we try our hardest to build endurance. Some are like Chan, who sing while doing cardio (which is insane, by the way, I felt like I was dying when I tried it), some are like LeeKnow, packing on layer after layer of heavy clothing before and during dance practice, forcing the body to exert itself so much that when all of those layers are off, each movement and breath is a breeze (also insanity to do. It feels like working out in a sauna with a weighted, heated blanket on you). Me? I brute forced it. 

Anyway, Y/N noticed that I was really getting obsessed with these lyrics and doing them so that I was as close to the line of unhuman speed crossed with physical activity as possible. I'm the fastest rapper in the 4th generation and I wanted to show why I was. Y/N came into my room and said,“Binnie, you need to trust yourself. You know what's best, you have the best instincts I've ever seen. Remember, if you're about to dive in a pool, don't think about the height of the diving board, clear your mind, and jump in. Don't think, just do.” 

Even now, through all of this, you would think that a bond like that would be weakened, seeing her like that would make some pull away. It just brought me closer. I am in awe of her. The sheer will to live. The tenacity. The beauty in her broken parts know no bounds. It reminds me of ruins from ancient civilizations. Seeing the beauty in what was, and marveling at what is left. Only the strongest parts are left, the essence of that civilization. She is beyond anyone I've ever seen. Her capacity to love is beyond comprehension. 

That's why I am so happy to know her. To really know her. To be the person she reaches for, to ground herself. She trusts me to be there. And I will be. Simply because it’s an honor to love her. Money isn't an object for her. 

“Money isn’t a problem, would you like to be in a place of your own?” I asked again. I would spend my whole paycheck on her if I had the chance. She deserves to be spoiled.

“I still want to be at the other dorm, it’s familiar. For some reason I feel safe there. Is that okay?” She asked, looking at Seungmin. Little did she know that we had been talking about this for a bit before she woke up. We knew that pushing this topic on her would be too much, but at the same time, from what Seungmin told me, the doctors were never going to release her to the same house that Chris is in.

Seungmin chuckled, “Birdie, it’s not a problem, you have never not been welcome at my dorm, you know this,” he deadpanned. It is true…all of the boys over that house would get so excited as soon as they heard Y/N was coming over. They’d want to spend the entirety of the visit with her, a lot of the time they would start to pout if they felt she wasn't spending enough time with them. So when the idea came up their eyes lit up. Anywhere she goes, I'm not going anywhere. 

“Okay then it’s settled.” I smiled at her, combing a stray strand out of her face. I’m happy that she’s finally getting out of here. She has been through so much in such a short amount of time. She needs to be left alone. I am scared for her. I want her to be safe, and worries keep on popping in my head. How do I protect her? What if saesangs get a whiff that something is wrong? What if the company tried to force her to stay with Chris? What if she takes him back? That part hurt. Seeing how badly she was hurt simply because he was being an asshole. Simply because he treated a diamond like sand on a decrepit shore. The thought made me shake with rage as I looked at the woman in front of me, she looked at me with furrowed brows, that brought me back to her.

Y/N looked into my eyes at that moment, like she was tapped into my brain. She gave my hand a squeeze as she said, “Binnie? What's wrong, talk to me…” she shyly played with my fingers. Her touch was feather light given the bruises that formed on my knuckles. I wanted to tell her the truth about them. My impulse to be honest, making the words bubble in my throat. Right behind the truth of what I'm feeling.

I wanted to tell her I love you, I wanted to tell you for so long. The minute I met you I fell for you, your soft voice, your booming laugh, your corny jokes. All of it. Not just the you before but the you now. I know life is going to be hard for you, I want to be there. I want to stand next to you and catch you whenever you need to collapse. I will give you everything I have. You deserve to know what real love is. I know Chris isn't good for you. You don't need this pain, this heartache, you don't deserve to be treated like an option. You are the one and only person I ever loved and will continue to love for the rest of my life. I want you to be happy, and if it's not with me that's okay. I just want you to know that he isn't the only option. I am just one person, I am sure thousands of men would line up and down city blocks just to see you, let alone have a chance with you. Instead I said “ just thinking.”

There is a time and a place for everything. Telling her right now could confuse her more, make her feel like I just want something from her. That couldn't be farther from the truth. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. The fact that she has been used like this and thrown to the side, expected to all of a sudden tolerate the people that did that to her. 

I saw the opportunity to draw attention away and I took it as I said “Seungmin, you have everything?” “Yeah, we should be ready to go soon,” he said as he kept packing all of the random hoodies that were used as pillows when we stood overnight with her. It's been years since most of us slept in the same room as the others. Every few hours a nurse would come in to check on Y/N, sometimes startling her. Everytime that happened Seungmin and I would wake up. We aren't light sleepers in particular, but it was more reflexive than anything. The nurse would quietly remind her that she's safe and all of her boys are with her. No one is going to hurt or sneak up on her. It'd still take a little time for her to go back to bed. Seungmin and I would refuse to even close our eyes until her heart rate went back to resting and her body would be completely relaxed and limp. 

Now that things are starting to simmer down I am wondering why Seungmin had this reaction. He's been very strong through it all and he is even going against his nature of just observing. I am wondering what it is that I don't know. I just want to be filled in. Seungmin isn't known for physical affection, instead opting for annoying people he loves until they inevitably get closer to the edge of insanity. It's an odd way to show love, but Seungmin has never been known for traditional methods. 

So why is it that he’s calling her pet names and smiling at her that way? Did he always smile at her like that? It’s so comforting, almost endearing. More than anything she is sharing the look. Something definitely happened but I have no clue what. 

“Angel, you have all the appointments and all of that?” I looked back to her and she smiled at me saying, “Yup, I just want out of here. It’s been crazy. I just want to cuddle with my boys and watch a movie.” I could feel the sincerity in her words. 

It wasn’t too long after that when Han came with the wheelchair saying, “You’re chariot awaits.” I am still really worried about her. She still says the cramps are no joke. Her cravings are still everywhere too. When she asked the attending about it they explained that her body is still going to have those pregnancy cravings for at least a few more weeks. I could see the hint of sadness in her features when hearing that. The only thing I could imagine herself feeling is that it’s another reminder. A reminder of what could’ve been. 

On our way to the house I could feel her excitement ramp up. I could hear her giggles as she listened to the radio. She waited and bounced at the redlights. I looked behind me and I saw everyone else in the car smiling lopsidedly as she giggled. Y/N wasn’t known for very big displays of excitement unless it was for something that she really really wanted or missed having. 

I could see the color in her face, knowing that if Hannie and I didn’t do what we needed to do, this would not have been the case. Instead, I get to see her smile, feel her laugh a little more, and be thankful for every moment, I always was but now? It’s like I have a deeper love for her. She was already a part of me, but now she is like a vital organ, as odd as it sounds. 

As I was in my own thoughts I heard a song play, it was one that I knew she loved. Immediately I felt her hand grab mine, which was on the shared arm rest. Usually if she wanted the armrest she would just nudge me until I relented and shared, but this was different. She laid her arm on top of mine, her hand interlocking with mine as she sang along to the song. I couldn’t help but think it belonged there. Touches are a part of her expression of comfortability. It’s how she communicates, which I happen to know all too well. This had more weight to it somehow. She felt like she knew that no matter what she’d be safe. Which was and still is true.

When we pulled around the corner we were met with balloons in her favorite color on the doorstep. Her eyes lit up as she said, “What’s this?” I just shrugged as I said, “I don’t know, Lix told me that he was up to something but I didn’t really know what.” As soon as we parked Y/N bounced as she waited for one of us to come around and help her. 

I think that she was surprised at the fact that we had done anything, period. I know that she has a complex. She tends to feel like she isn’t worth the time. That was something that she told me in confidence one night. Every night she would cry herself to sleep for the better part of 2 and a half years. Hannie and I did not catch it until we started spending weekends with her. 

One night I heard whimpering from their room, when I knocked I heard sniffles. I gently pushed the door open, I found her curled in a ball, crying looking at her phone. When I asked her what was wrong she just handed me the phone. On it was a text thread. 

Y/N: hey are you coming home? It’s Friday and I wanted to watch a movie with you. Channie❤️: Not this again, Y/N. I’m working, I don’t have time for this. Y/N: You promised you’d take some days off every week, so you don’t burn out. You even said that those days are our days.  Channie❤️: Y/N the more you talk to me the longer I have to be in the studio. So you are causing me to be away longer because you can’t be patient.  Y/N: I haven’t seen you in weeks, Channie. You are always gone, I miss you and I feel alone… like you don’t care.  Channie❤️: bingo! You are right. I don’t care. My phone is getting turned off. Maybe then you’ll get the message that I don’t have time for you. Get some sleep, trust me, don’t wait up. 

I held her all night that night, I dried her tears as she clung onto me for dear life. Like I said before, her love language is touch, so to literally be starved of that for weeks from her husband made me feel enraged. More than anything, I wanted to make her comfortable. 

I wrapped her in a fluffy blanket of which I called ‘the Y/N burrito’. Then I picked her up while she giggled and placed her on the couch. We watched whatever she wanted. Early into the morning she started craving her favorite snack so we went out in pajamas, got the snacks, and had a movie marathon. It’s one of my favorite memories with her. She started off that night crying and ended it safe in my arms, snacks surrounding her as credits rolled on the T.V. 

I brushed her hair back as I stared at her sleeping so peacefully on the couch. The credits created a dim and timid light as I wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth. It was about 6am when Chris walked in. He looked annoyed and just walked past us as if we were ghosts. 

I recounted this as I saw the balloons, thinking that whatever is inside, she is going to love it. 

Han was first to grab her. When Seungmin unlocked the door with the overnight bags slung over his shoulder we could hear a little gasp and some talking. Han held her hand as we walked. 

“This is so sweet you guys didn’t have to,” she stopped at the balloons, looking at them as if they were the most precious diamonds she has ever seen. Then when we walked in she started sniffling. 

Sitting on the couches were 6 pillow sized plushies, and one giant plushie. Y/N loves plushies, their textures calm her. What got her to cry though, was what each of them represented. The one giant plushie was an angel. The other 6 were a lioness, a crown, a bird, a sunflower , Anya, and the National flower of Korea, the mugunghwa, the symbol of eternal beauty, that one has to be Minho’s. 

I have no clue where he even found some of these. Especially the lioness, that one represented I.N.’s nickname for her. Whenever anyone tried to mess with us he always said, “if you think the wolf is bad wait until the lioness hears about this.”

She started crying, “they…. They’re all my nicknames. The ones you gave me.” She immediately went to the angel and grabbed it, hugging it tightly as she cried. 

My heart broke and swelled at the same time. She should never have to feel like anyone is going to abandon her. It makes me so sad to know that she was so scared of losing us. All because of one foolish and egotistical man. He deserves nothing, especially not her love. Yet she loved him anyway. That is the type of person that she is. 

Felix came up to her and said, “I figured if one of us had to go out and you missed us, now you’ll have a piece of us with you. You won’t be alone, and we’ll always come back to you. So when we leave, you can hold on to them really tight and know that soon we’ll be there.” I could see the tears about to leave his eyes.

If anyone was able to do something this sweet for Y/N, it would be Felix. The way that he cares for her, comforts her, it’s like they share one mind. He knows that she loves plushies. Ones that are so soft she can just sink into them. Chris never really liked too many things in his room. So he always discouraged her from decorating with plushies. He also felt that, although they were cute, they had no place in an adult’s bedroom. Especially not a leader’s bedroom. Most of her plushies found residence in my room. 

I had no problem holding onto them for her and sometimes she would even decorate my room with them. Every movie night, before Hannie and I came home, she would grab the plushies and throw them on Han’s bed. She’d decorate with them, with Hannie’s favorite holding a bag of Hannie’s snacks. She’d also have her favorite, she named it Ollie, and Gyu on the bed, with popcorn in the middle. 

That always made me smile. That wherever Ollie went, so did Gyu. Whenever I would sleep in the same bed with her, I would grab Ollie and Gyu. One night she asked if she could hold Gyu for a bit. Usually I don’t let anyone touch him, but she isn’t anyone. Without hesitation I handed her Gyu and she handed me Ollie. I remember hearing her sigh with comfort as she talked to Gyu about me. How lucky Gyu must be to fall asleep next to me every night. She thanked him for comforting me and for allowing me to sleep soundly. Even on every tour, she would pack Ollie and Gyu for me to sleep with. The first time she did it, she wrote a note with it. ‘I’m going to miss you, but so is Ollie. I may not be able to go with you but Ollie can! Sleep well, have a great tour, I’ll see you soon Binnie!-Angel.’

She looked up at Felix, released the angel, and hugged him as she whimpered a bunch of tiny little “thank you’s” into his chest. I think she realized that all of us know that she is scared. We may not say it but we do. We know and we all love her so much. We are here for her. Even if we may not be there in person, there is no place we would rather be than being with her. 

Felix held her and pulled back after a few minutes. He wiped her tears and he said, “come on sit, take a load off. The brownie batter is almost done… unless you want to help?” He smirked at her. 

She practically dragged Felix to the kitchen and Minho yelled, “Yah, I’m not done in here!” She giggled and asked what he was doing. I came into the kitchen to see Minho tying tenderloin together. She was watching curiously as he worked. He said, “it is your first day home and we should celebrate that. I’m making beef wellington, and don’t worry I left out the mushrooms, replaced it with onions and carrots for you.”

“Really? Thank you Minho! This is going to be the best dinner, thank you!!” She bounced and kissed him on the cheek. His ears turned red as he said, “okokok go over there with Lix’ you guys can have the oven first since this needs to chill,” he kissed her forehead right before she bolted to help Lix. I couldn’t help but giggle at her as she breathed life into the room. 

I could see that she was really touched that he said, ‘your first day home’. Those words meant that now she is home. This is her space as well as theirs, that will never change. I could see her trying to hold back tears as she baked. Once things were baking Lix’ plugged in the switch and we had a blast playing games while we waited for dinner to come around. After everything was baked and made, we all sat down for a nice dinner, like we used to in the shared dorms.

Right before we all sat down Y/N smiled and said, “thank you. To all of you. This experience was hard. It was the hardest thing that I have ever been through to date. It’s because of all of you that I made it. All of you mean so much to me. The thing that really scared me after all of this was what would happen if I lost you guys? My boys. I cherish every single memory with each of you. I love you boys so damn much, you are all my family. Seeing what you did,” she looked at me and Hannie, “Being so strong. Crying with me, holding me through it all.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. Resisting the urge to nudge into it like I always do.

She looked at everyone else, “The fear that each of you must have felt. I know I wasn’t the only one mourning and coming to terms with things.” I saw her look directly at Seungmin for a split second and went back to scanning the table, “I want to thank all of you so much. This experience was horrific. Because of all of you, I made it out. I love you boys so much. Thank you for welcoming me home.” With that, she sat down and leaned into me, I could tell she was either too nervous or embarrassed.

As we were eating and laughing she looked around the table. I sat down right to her left and Hannie was on her other side. I could tell she was doing her best not to cry. I think it was the same for the boys. Two days ago that wasn’t the case. She was fighting for her life around this time. To think that we would all be here, together, a family. It made me want to cry. This is the family that she deserves. Everyone she loves, at home, on time, together. She was so happy and before dessert came out Hyunjin said, “Yongbok-ah phase 2.” Then Felix went running to his room. He came out with a giant comforter and plopped on the living room floor. He then ran to Minho’s room, grabbed his comforter and plopped it down as well. At that point I.N. said, “Movie time! Everyone on the floor!”

Immediately everyone moved to the living room and got a spot except for me. I was helping wash dishes with Minho. When I walked in I could see Minho tearing up as we heard her giggle. I patted his back as I said, “what can I do to help, hyung?” He just shook his head a bit and asked me to help him with the drying. By the time we were almost done with that I heard Y/N calling my name and asking me to sit. I told her that I had to change into my pajamas first and I could hear her ask Lix if she could change in his room quickly. He of course obliged. 

Slowly but surely everyone started changing and pretty soon everyone was sitting on the comfy comforters. I didn’t really know where to sit and Y/N looked at me saying, “I know you aren’t thinking about sitting away from me.” I didn’t want to make it seem like she needed to be next to me all of the time, thinking that I would come off as clingy but it’s nice to know that she craves my touch as well. 

I sat down right next to her and everyone’s faces had giant smiles. I looked at her and she smirked as she held onto my bicep curling into me. This is one of my favorite places to be. Just next to her as she clings onto me like a Koala. 

She was giggling as Felix handed out the brownie sundaes and everyone got comfy. Y/N decided on a comedy for the first movie and out of nowhere she asked me, “You guys were never going to leave me, were you?” 

I just smiled at her and said, “Not in a million years. We love you, we always will. Nothing and no one will get in the way of that.” She gave me an indication that she wanted to be closer so I lifted my arm up, that way she could scooch closer to me. I could feel the tears through my sleep shirt as I held her. 

“Thank you for not leaving me.” She said as quietly as she could. The truth is, she is someone that I need, someone that we all need. She is a unique type of person. After about two movies most had abandoned the comforter pile. By the early morning it was just me and Y/N. We were laying down on her new plushies. She took her place on my chest. Much like that night from years ago, I wiped the chocolate from her face and watched her form as she slept, credits rolling on the T.V. I smiled as she slept. I kissed her forehead and she intertwined her leg with mine. A few minutes later we fell asleep, with the promise of better days ahead.