#theos basement

[angelsixxdoll]

i love sweaty hot old men

[subpar-celestial]

How many slots?

[anqelbean]

TAYLOR WHEN I CATCH YOU TAYLOOOOOOOR

[angelsixxdoll]

mötley crüe , dr feelgood photoshoot

[riddlesrizzler]

Sigma Nu's Sweetheart

summary: A diamond in a house full of snakes. characters: frat boy! mattheo. frat sweetheart! reader. frat boy! slytherins warnings: mentions of alcohol and making pledges do things (not hazing) word count: 2.3k

They called it the Snake House, though its real name-Sigma Nu-was etched in fading silver above the wrought iron gates that led to the manor. Hidden behind ivy-draped columns and shrouded by ancient oaks, the fraternity estate stood on the edge of campus like a secret too dangerous to be kept in daylight. No one quite remembered when Sigma Nu had been founded-some whispered it was pre-dating the university itself, rooted in ancient rites and blood oaths sworn beneath crescent moons. But in the present, it was feared, admired, and envied in equal measure.

The president of Sigma Nu was Mattheo Riddle, a name spoken with the kind of reverence reserved for legends and tyrants. Sharp of tongue and sharper of mind, Mattheo ruled the fraternity not with brutish dominance, but with a silken charisma that wrapped itself around you like a noose. He was all marble and firelight: smooth, cold, untouchable on the outside, yet flickering with something volatile beneath the surface.

His second-in-command, Theodore Nott, was the shadow behind the throne. Where Mattheo set the tone, Theo enforced it. He was quieter, more calculated, with a gaze like cut glass and a voice you only heard when he needed to remind someone of their place. The brothers called him “The Watcher”-not because he hovered, but because he saw everything.

The rest of the inner circle rotated like planets in their orbit.

Lorenzo Berkshire, with his floppy brown hair and wicked grin, handled social affairs-if such a title could be applied to the lavish masquerades and forbidden midnight galas he orchestrated. Enzo was charm incarnate, hiding razor-sharp instincts behind a glass of wine and a well-tailored coat. People underestimated him. That was their first mistake.

Draco Malfoy, heir to a crumbling aristocracy, served as treasurer. But that role was a formality. Draco was the gatekeeper to the legacy. His family had once poured obscene amounts of money into Sigma Nu, and though the vaults ran thinner now, his word still carried the weight of dynasties. Cold and calculating, Draco rarely spoke unless it was to remind others they weren’t worth speaking to.

Then there was Blaise Zabini, the strategist. He didn’t run the meetings or throw the parties. He played the long game-the one that was always three moves ahead. A cigarette always rested between his fingers, and secrets curled around him like smoke. Blaise’s role wasn’t official. It didn’t have to be. In Sigma Nu, knowledge was currency, and he was the quiet king of the underground economy.

Together, they formed the serpent’s head.

The house itself was a relic from another time. Stained-glass windows filtered the sunlight into eerie patterns on mahogany floors. The walls were lined with portraits of brothers past-men with hollow eyes and stories that had been scrubbed from official records. A grand staircase, rumored to creak only when someone lied in its presence, split the mansion in two. The basement was off-limits, except for the highest-ranking members. What happened down there was never spoken of, but the muffled echoes that sometimes rose through the vents kept the rumors alive.

Rituals were everything in Sigma Nu. Pledging wasn't just about endurance-it was a test of will, of loyalty, of how far you were willing to crawl for power. And once you were in, you were in. There was no leaving. Not really. Former brothers found themselves mysteriously blacklisted, their futures erased with quiet efficiency. No one crossed the Snake House without bleeding for it.

Yet every year, the line to rush snaked down the cobblestone path, filled with students desperate to touch even the hem of that forbidden tapestry. Power, after all, is seductive. And Mattheo Riddle’s Sigma Nu had power in spades.

But inside those ivy-covered walls, something was shifting. There were murmurs of a fracture in the hierarchy. An outsider watching too closely. A secret the founders had buried that might be clawing its way back to the surface.

And at the center of it all: Mattheo, with a hand on the throne and another on the throttle.

But between the echoes of old secrets and the weight of a legacy stitched in silence, she was the unexpected constant-soft in a world that was anything but. While Mattheo navigated the shifting loyalties and unspoken rules of the house, she remained untouched by the storm, yet always in its eye. She didn’t need a title to hold power; she had something rarer. Influence, without force. Presence, without demand. And though the throne was his to claim, she was the one they all moved around-the one they’d protect without question, even as the walls whispered of betrayal and the past threatened to rise. Because to the outside world, she was just the Diamond of Alpha Delta Pi. But to them… she was the heart of Sigma Nu.

The Snake House had never known softness before she arrived. But now, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through the halls before chapter meetings, and there were always cookies cooling on the kitchen counter beside the whiskey bottles. Her laugh echoed down the staircase, light and melodic, blending strangely well with the heavy bass of party nights and the creak of ancient floorboards.

She wasn't just a sweetheart by title-she was the heartbeat of the fraternity.

Every Friday, three pledges showed up at her off-campus cottage, armed with mops and laundry detergent, ready to clean top to bottom without question. It had become a tradition-Sigma Nu took care of her. Always. It was Theo’s rule. But it was Mattheo’s order.

The pledges were already working by the time the rest of the world stirred. One was sweeping under the island. Another was wiping down cabinets. A third was sorting her laundry into color-coded piles on the dining room table.

“Don’t forget the lavender dryer sheets,” she reminded one of them sweetly, not looking up from her dough.

“Yes, ma’am,” the pledge muttered, blushing.

“You didn’t have to come clean.” She looked over her shoulder at him, a smudge of flour on her cheek.

“I wanted to.” Mattheo walked in, groggy but sharp-eyed, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You send pledges to clean my own house every week. My landlord thinks I have a personal cleaning service." She giggled.

“You basically do,” he said, flicking his lighter closed. “You bake banana bread and let Theo cry on your couch. You’ve earned it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right,” he replied, and stepped forward, gently swiping the flour from her cheek with his thumb. “You spoil us. Let us return the favor.”

She looked at him for a long moment, eyes searching.

“You don’t have to keep proving things to me, Mattheo.”

He met her gaze, unwavering. “I’m not. I’m proving it to everyone else.”

At parties, she didn’t need to lift a finger. A pledge carried her drink. Another held her coat. If she looked even slightly tired, someone found her a seat. When she danced, people made room.

The party pulsed like a living thing-booming bass, laughter slurred into inside jokes, the thick haze of too much beer and too little inhibition. Lights blinked across the walls, casting silvers and greens on the sweaty crowd packed into the house’s main room.

Then she walked in.

The chatter didn’t stop-but it shifted. Heads turned. A few of the brothers straightened up. Pledges scrambled to make space near the drinks table. And at the edge of the chaos, Mattheo Riddle watched her with a smirk wrapped around the mouth of his beer bottle.

Diamond House perfection. The only sweetheart Sigma Nu would ever need.

She made her way toward the kitchen, exchanging soft smiles and cheek kisses, until one of the guys shouted, “Sweetheart’s here!”

Cheers erupted like a spell had been cast.

Mattheo didn’t move. Just leaned back against the doorway, letting his eyes follow her every step. When a freshman tried handing her a half-full drink, Mattheo’s voice cut sharp and smooth across the room.

“She only drinks vodka cran, dumbass.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

The pledge blinked, nodded quickly, and disappeared.

She found Mattheo seconds later, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “You’re going to scare off all the new members.”

“Good.” He looked down at her. “They were getting too bold.”

“You’re acting like I’m made of glass.”

He tilted his head, that smirk deepening. “Nah. Diamonds are tougher than glass.”

She arched a brow. “So I’m tough?”

“You’re dangerous.” His voice dipped, low and dry. “I’ve seen more than a few guys fall stupid over you in five seconds flat.”

“And you?” she asked sweetly. “Still standing?”

Mattheo took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. “Barely.”

When she walked into a tailgate wrapped in an oversized Sigma Nu hoodie-Draco’s once, Blaise’s the next, Enzo’s after that-everyone knew it was only borrowed until Mattheo noticed she was cold and quietly handed her his.

He always did.

The wind whipped around the tailgate like it had something to prove. She stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd, the hem of her Sigma Nu hoodie fluttering. Not hers, technically-Mattheo’s. Still smelled like smoke and spice and something she couldn’t name.

He appeared behind her like a shadow.

“Cold again?”

“You have a sixth sense for it.”

“No.” He leaned close, lips brushing her ear. “I just know you.”

She turned with a grin, poking his chest. “So, what’s the plan, President? Going to assign a pledge to hold my hand all day too?”

“Don’t tempt me.” His eyes flickered over her, playful. “I’d make it a rotating shift.”

She laughed, full and bright.

“I could carry my own books, you know.”

“And ruin our entire pledging system?” he asked, mock serious. “What would the freshmen do without you assigning them smoothie runs and study session alarms?”

“You love it.”

Mattheo didn’t deny it.

Instead, he stepped back and tossed her his scarf. “Put that on.”

“Possessive much?”

“Practical,” he said with a wink. “And if anyone asks-tell them it’s house policy.”

Mattheo Riddle didn’t smile easily. But he watched her like she hung the stars. Protective wasn’t the right word-it was something fiercer, deeper. He knew the sound of her footsteps before she even knocked. He knew how she took her tea, what time her classes ended, what books were stacked in her bag on any given day.

And when he wasn’t sitting at the head of the chapter table, you could find him leaning against the counter while she stirred brownie batter, sleeves pushed up, hoodie half-swallowed by her frame. She was always cooking for them-baking too-and she stayed through every meeting, sitting on the arm of Mattheo’s chair like she belonged there.

Because she did.

Theo might’ve been vice president, but she was Mattheo’s right hand. She helped organize formals, charity auctions, service hours, and pledge retreats. The boys listened when she spoke-not because they were told to, but because they wanted to.

She had that kind of presence. Gentle, golden. The kind of energy that softened even the sharpest of them.

Draco, for all his cold poise, once spent an hour carving roses out of apples because she needed garnishes for a spring brunch. Enzo stopped calling other girls “gorgeous” in her presence out of some misplaced loyalty. Blaise-usually detached and unreadable-offered up his rare, real smiles only when she sat beside him, asking how his day had been like she meant it.

She wasn’t just a name on the sweetheart paddle or a girl in the stands. She was the heartbeat of the house-the reason the boys cleaned up before chapter meetings, the reason pledges learned to bake banana bread from scratch, the reason the Snake House didn’t feel like just a frat, but like something closer to home.

She made it feel like something worth protecting.

The brothers would say it, loud and proud, beers raised and sloshing at tailgates- “She’s ours.”

She showed up early to help decorate before parties. She stayed late to clean. She knew all their birthdays, their favorite meals, their secret fears. When Enzo got sick, she made him soup from scratch and handwrote the recipe card so he could brag about it. When Theo failed a midterm, she sat up with him until 3 a.m., mapping out a study plan like his future depended on it.

Draco, who rarely showed softness, once told her, “If I ever get married, it’s because you raised the bar so high I finally found someone who reminded me of you.”

Blaise swore she brought peace into every room she walked into. Lorenzo called her their “lucky charm.” The pledges called her ma’am-but with awe, not obligation.

She wasn’t perfect. But she was real. She laughed too hard. She danced barefoot in the house like she didn’t care who saw. She left behind hair ties, lip balm, and the scent of vanilla in every room. And when the world got too loud, she leaned into chaos with a smile like she’d tamed fire.

And Mattheo?

Mattheo watched it all from the edge. Quiet. Unshakable. Unclaimed but not untouched.

She wore his hoodies, and he never asked for them back. He let her take the best seat at every party, made the boys swap their plans if she needed help, silenced a room with just a glance if anyone dared say her name wrong.

He never said it-not out loud. Never told her that she made the world easier to stand in. Never admitted that he memorized her favorite flowers or that he checked if her porch light was on after every party.

She might’ve worn Diamond blue, but she was etched into Sigma Nu like a secret kept under lock and key.

And Mattheo Riddle didn’t share secrets.

[dearlyd3parted]

half agony, half smoke | k. jongseob x reader

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

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★彡

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

The library.

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

But, the question was none other than why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damnit, she is so cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really should’ve just walked away.

“Maybe…like a week.”

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

“And how long was it?”

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

“Um…I think around, 620…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★彡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That, you certainly weren’t expecting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me your favorites.”

★彡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t it be both?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he had lost something.

★彡

monday, 8:34pm

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

wednesday, 10:09am

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

friday, 11:08pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n…please, can I kiss you?”

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

☆彡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, Y/n. It’s stupid.”

“Just really glad I finally started reading.”

[angelsixxdoll]

thank u for the tag @metalmusicwhore !!

im deffo into dr feelgood or too fast for love by motley crue, and n.w.a’s greatest hits album!!!

also, ill sneak in deftones self titled album because it’s an absolute banger …

tagging @kuromithekool @im-feral @gangsterballsgaming

EVERYONE GIMME AN ALBUM U REALLY LIKE AND PASS IT ON PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I'll go first, 666 by Aphrodite's Child :)

@leahandherstuff @lichenstone @sotalia-fluviatilis @field-cryptobotanist @forflightlessbirds @bat-luun @theoneandonlywinnie

[starkeymeow]

lover of mine ₍₂₎

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: y/n lowkey being difficult because she doesnt want to lie to her best friend, DREW TRYING HIS BEST

prev next

authors note: okay she was a little UGHcore but i just needed a rocky start before things got cute n theyll be communicating soon. guys i promise theyll get better n y/n also wont feel so guilty as time goes on !!!!!

you gaze up at the home through the window of the car. drew is driving beside you, insisting you begin the plan by arriving together to the address leila forwarded to everyone.

“it’s . . . i didn’t think it would look like this,” you say aloud, and drew turns down the volume of the radio after he parks the car out front.

the house is big, surrounded by a few others down the road that look similar to it. the first floor seems like a basement area because the stairs at the front of the house lead all the way up to the second floor and continue two more, standing at four in total.

it’s just a few miles away from town that you and drew were able to drive by and take a look at on the way there. the area is beautiful. no wonder why leila’s mom and her boyfriend stay there.

the front door is open and you spot leila’s head peeking out of the doorway just on time. she disappears for a moment before she’s leaving the house to hurry down the stairs, probably to greet you both. you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car to meet her halfway.

“isn’t it amazing? was it a safe drive from los angeles?” leila asks as you quickly greet her with a hug, before you walk her over to drew’s car. he’s opened the trunk and back doors to retrieve your things. “two weeks here will be nice, huh?”

“oh absolutely,” you agree with her, and you grab your purse from the backseat and drew’s backpack, then shut the door. “is everyone else here?”

“yeah, they just got here an hour ago—gia brought her boyfriend, roman. he’s a little shady but they’re kinda cute. libby’s here too, ooh, and oscar, theo’s childhood friend,” leila says and you can just hear the excitement in her voice that makes you smile.

you hold one of the straps of drew’s backpack and hold it up for him to take it while leila keeps talking. you watch as he eyes it for a moment before looking at you, as if he’s wondering why you don’t want to take it.

the thought doesn’t even cross your mind but it’s fine. he takes his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, then continues to grab the handle of his suitcase and carry it out of the trunk, then yours.

you stand there and wait for him to hand you something to carry but he just keeps his backpack on both shoulders, shuts the trunk, locks the car, and then grasps both suitcase’s handles with either of his hands, ready to head up. there’s a faint smile on his face when he faces you and leila.

“you’re taking them?” you ask, referring to both of your things so you can just bring your purse to the house.

he nods like it’s nothing, “yeah, i got it.”

leila can’t help but awe at you two. “you guys are so adorable. theo and i missed having you both around,” she says as she turns around and heads to the home.

at her words, you peer over your shoulder and send drew a knowing look, but there’s a slight twinge of guilt in both of your expressions that you have to shrug off.

you and drew stand side-by-side as you confront the home, watching as leila walks up the steps and is immediately approached by theo, who hands her a drink.

they share a kiss, and right past them you can just barely spot a few figures that must be the rest of the group. they’re shouting and laughing with one another, leaving you to look at drew again.

he gives you a nudge. “professionals, remember?” he’s referring back to your initial conversation about the plan just two weeks ago.

something about all of this just makes your stomach turn, but you nod. “professionals,” you repeat, and then look at the house again, then you take your step.

you’re carefully settling down on the bed leila’s given you and drew. it’s in a separate room right next to where she and theo will be sleeping. and of course, there’s just one bed.

“i can take the couch tonight if you want,” drew offers as he sets both of your belongings on the side, but he’s talking about sleeping on the small couch on the opposite side of the room to the bed, just against the window.

“it’s just sleeping in a bed, star, it’s nothing we haven’t done before,” you tell him with a shake of your head, and drew’s shoulders drop ever so slightly at the sound of his old nickname, the one that once rolled off your tongue so effortlessly. now, it feels like a small peace offering, a reminder of when things were simpler.

he gives it a few moments to make sure you’re okay with it, before he nods. “okay,” he says.

you check the time on your phone. it’s already eleven in the morning and leila said she wanted to go swimming in the afternoon. you have a whole beach ahead of the house but she insists on using the pool in the back. theo even suggested earlier that he and oscar can grill some lunch.

“i should get ready,” you say as you stand and toss your phone on the bed, then approach your suitcase. there’s a knock at the door and you know it’s leila. “i’ll be out soon, sorry!” you tell her, hoping you’re loud enough for her to hear you from all the music they’re playing out there.

you glance up at drew when you see he’s just standing there. “what are you gonna be doing?” you ask him, then rifle around your clothes for a bikini.

he scratches the back of his head as he settles on the couch, and he shrugs, “might join theo and oscar since they’ve been down there already.”

you only nod as you find a matching set that you’ll decide to wear today. drew is looking around the room, even outside where the views are like paintings on a canvas.

“this place is so nice,” he says, a little too casually, like he’s trying to ease the awkwardness. “lei’s mom really knows how to live it up.”

you don’t respond right away, focusing on your makeup bag that you need to retrieve something in. it’s not that you don’t hear him, you just . . . don’t feel like talking. when you finally do, your voice comes out flatter than intended. “yeah. it’s a nice place.”

tension lingers heavy in the air. you hear drew shift on the couch, probably sensing your mood, but he continues. “kinda reminds me of that trip we took up the coast. remember that little inn with the—”

“i don’t really want to talk about that right now,” you cut him off, your tone sharper than you mean it to be. you don’t look at him, you just reapply your perfume as if it’s the most important task in the world.

there’s a pause, and you can feel drew’s gaze on you. “right,” he says quietly, “sorry.”

you exhale, trying to shake off the tension building in your chest. you know it’s not his fault—not entirely. this whole thing was a bad idea from the start, but you agreed. you’re here. and now, you’re stuck with him, in this room, pretending like everything’s fine when it’s the furthest thing from it.

“i . . . didn’t mean to snap,” you say, softer this time. “it’s just, i’m still not completely okay with all of this.”

drew leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “i get that. but we’ve already talked about it. we agreed to do this, and now we’re here. you know that it’s too late to back out.”

you close your suitcase with more force than necessary, finally looking up at him. “yeah, but it wasn’t my idea to lie to my best friend, drew.”

his jaw clenches for a second, and you can see the faint flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he doesn’t lash out. he just nods, “i know it wasn’t. but you’re here. you agreed.”

you purse your lips, frustration building. “yeah. because you asked me to. not because i wanted to.”

he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “i didn’t want to drag you into this if you were gonna be miserable the whole time.”

“i’m not miserable,” you snap, but the lie feels heavy as it leaves your lips. you avoid his gaze, the weight of everything sitting on your shoulders. “i just don’t want to pretend everything’s okay when it’s not.”

he’s quiet for a moment, the silence thick between you two. “i’m trying, y/n,” drew says finally, his voice low, almost pleading. “i’m trying to make this less . . . awkward, but it feels like no matter what i say, it’s wrong.”

you just fold your arms, staring at the floor. “maybe that’s because it’s not just about this trip. it’s about everything that happened before.”

drew’s expression hardens, but he doesn’t argue. “i know. i just thought that maybe this could be a chance for us to be around each other again. figure things out.”

you raise your eyebrows. “figure what out? there’s nothing left to figure out. we’re not together. and pretending like we are just feels wrong.”

he’s silent for a long moment, staring at you like he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. eventually, he just stands, moving over to the window. “if you want out, y/n, you can tell them the truth. i’m not gonna stop you.”

you swallow hard, not knowing what to say to that. of course, he’s not wrong—you could end this charade whenever you want. but something keeps you from doing it. maybe it’s the fear of letting everyone down. maybe it’s the guilt of seeing leila so happy, thinking everything’s fine between you and drew.

or maybe it’s something deeper—something you’re not ready to admit to yourself yet.

“i’m not gonna ruin leila and theo’s plan,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. “i’m sticking to ours.”

you’ve collected your swim suit and a pair of shorts and head for the bathroom. before you close the door behind you, you hear drew’s quiet voice, more resigned than angry now.

“i’m trying, y/n. i wish you’d let me.”

you’ve joined leila downstairs, as she’s planned on preparing other food for todays lunch in the kitchen, so libby, gia, and roman are already there enjoying themselves. they’re mainly just talking, not doing much other than that. leila’s already set everything up for you and her to work on for the next half hour or so.

you greet libby and gia with a small wave, having already said hello to them when you first got there. libby is a publicist in hollywood who met leila while she was filming some indie movie earlier in her career. she was brought in to manage leila’s pr during a press tour and boom—immediate friends.

gia and roman came sometime after. all you know is that leila met gia at a party like you and leila. gia’s incredible in fashion and helped leila with some of her carpet looks. roman’s just this alternative musician who she started dating this year. cute, but a little weird, like leila said.

“so, you and drew starkey?” roman asks as he pops a grape in his mouth, eyeing you. “i thought outerbanks didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“you thought that, and a lot of people still do,” you tell him. leila’s showing you her plan on what to cook while you watch. “he and i like to keep it private.”

“more like a complete secret,” he says, in which gia has to smack his arm to tell him to stop talking. “what? nobody knows.”

“some relationships work better that way,” you say.

“yeah, maybe take a page out of their book and do the same,” libby tells roman, and you see leila smiling at her friends as she works on dicing the vegetables. “there’s a few photos of you two out on the internet. i mean gia, baby, if i were you, i’d keep it a secret. roman’s so blah.”

he shakes his head at her and it makes you smile this time. libby catches it and grins, giving you a nod as she peels her orange.

after eating lunch and playing around in the water for hours, you all finally settle at the firepit, minus gia and roman who insisted they needed to sleep earlier because of their flight in today.

you’re leaning back against the seat, sitting next to leila who’s wrapped up in her blanket. the boys and libby are talking on their own about whatever. you don’t know. you just see drew smiling and constantly leaning forward and laughing, in which you tell him every time to be careful in case he gets too close to the fire.

your focus wavers when you feel his hand casually rest on your thigh. it’s not possessive, but there’s a weight to it. you immediately stiffen, your body instinctively tensing at the sudden contact.

your gaze flicks to his hand, then up to his face. he’s not even looking at you, continuing his conversation, acting as though the gesture is completely natural. it’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. he’s only doing it to make sure no one suspects anything. you know you can’t react—any sign of discomfort would raise questions you don’t want to answer—but it pulls you out of the moment with leila.

you force a small, tight smile and try to refocus, nodding along to whatever leila is saying.

“how have you and drew been?” she asks you, and you suddenly feel that guilt creeping up on you at that moment. that’s a terrible question.

you blink twice, considering your words before speaking, “we’re good, really good. it’s gonna be a little hard when drew leaves to film soon, but you know how it goes.”

she hums. “that’s how theo said he felt like when i was away for white lotus,” she says gently, understanding where you’re coming from.

you smile, but the weight of your lie settles deep in your chest. it’s a weird feeling, pretending to be something you're not, especially when leila’s eyes are so kind, so trusting. you know she means well, but there’s just so much guilt.

leila tilts her head and leans it on the back of the couch, watching you. “it’s tough, isn’t it? balancing everything—work, life, love. theo and i had such a hard time with it at first.”

you nod, keeping your hands busy by fiddling to avoid looking at her. “yeah, it is. i mean, it’s always been a challenge with our schedules.”

leila’s brows furrows slightly. “you two have always seemed like you handle it so well, though. what’s your secret?”

your heart races a little, and you force a chuckle. “i guess we’ve just gotten used to it.”

the words feel hollow, and you wonder if she can sense it. it’s not a complete lie—you and drew had gotten used to it all, but that was before everything fell apart. before the distance between you became more than just physical.

leila catches your eye again, her voice softer. “you two have always been so private. it’s kinda nice, though. you don’t have to deal with all the drama the rest of us go through with the media and stuff.”

you force a laugh, and you can just feel the warmth radiating off your body. “yeah, it has its perks.”

you can’t even look at her. your gaze keeps getting drawn to the fire that leila can just sense the awkwardness, tilting her head a little, and you can see the faintest trace of concern in her expression.

“you okay, y/n? you seem . . . i don’t know. tired?”

“i’m fine,” you say, a little too quickly. you clear your throat, trying to keep your voice steady as you continue. “it’s just . . .” you pause, checking that the others aren’t listening before leaning in to speak quietly, “drew and i, we’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. work and everything. i think it’s just catching up with us.”

leila nods, sympathy in her eyes. “i get it. it’s hard when you don’t get enough time together.” she pauses, looking like she’s considering her next words. “but hey, at least you’re here now. a couple of weeks without any distractions, right? this could be good for you two.”

leila’s gaze shifts to the others where drew is still laughing with theo, libby, and oscar. her voice softens again, and she leans closer to you this time. “it’s just nice to see you both here. i don’t think i’ve even seen him since that last time we all hung out a year ago. it’s been a while.”

your heart drops because she’s right—the last time she saw drew was when you were still together, a year ago.

leila just smiles, “well i’m glad you’re both here. theo and i were saying how we miss having you two around more often. it’s gonna be so fun, just like old times.”

you nod, the guilt wrapping itself tighter around your chest, making it hard to breathe to your own best friend. you manage to force another smile, but it feels brittle, like it could shatter at any second.

just then, drew catches your eye as you and leila continue your conversation. his grin falters for just a second when he sees you, like he knows what’s on your mind. and for a brief moment, you wonder if this whole charade is even worth it.

“yeah . . . just like old times.”

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld

[phas3d]

Slytherin boys as gamer bfs and what games they would play with their significant other?

Gamers >:) | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: cock fighting, animal cruelty, gambling, threats (these are all for fucking tom bc ofc it is...) - suicide joke (mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom. mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: im ngl idk half of these games in depth - i just heard and seen the sterotypes of these games - fps = first person shooter, dbh = detroit become human, abg = asian baby girl, bow = breathe of the wild ||

DRACO MALFOY sims 4 / roblox

This man sucks ass at gaming, he literally can't do it

His aim is shit, he screams when he's in a fight, and he rage quits the second he loses

So he has to stick to girly games

He has so many mods and cc for sims that it's insane

His pc runs like it's on life support because of this, pls save that poor computer

And he likes playing roblox too sometimes

But he doesn't even play the normal games

Bro plays Dress To Impress and Maple Hospital...

Like what the fuck are you doing there??? Go on BloxFruits or smth man

What's even worse is he eats EVERYONEEE up in Dress to Impress, he literally always top 3

And when he isn't top 3, he curses and swears but it doesn't go through cause tags

He literally cannot do obbys either oh my fucking god

You know that one meme of Sadness from Inside Out dropping her popcorn and someone quote-tweets it saying, "Damn she can't do anything"

That's exactly who Draco is when it comes to gaming

TOM RIDDLE dark web gambling / elden ring

Oh my fucking God this guy can't have a normal hobby ever

He doesn't game at all,,, literally just gambling bruh

He hosts illegal gambling rings online and even host some in the school basement

One time he even hosted an illegal cock ring fight...

Yes,,, he stole the chickens from Hagrid and made them fight....

He even used magic to give them powers like pokemon....

He made a fucking WATER chicken and FIRE chicken fight

Thank god he didn't actually let them kill each other, he just did it until one was near death

But back to gambling - he also manipulates people in so many ways

He casts a spell that silently chants "go all in, go all in" so it subconsciously makes people bet more

Bro even gets some students in DEBT!?!?! Like how tf did you do that and WHYYY would you do that

If someone doesn't come down to the basement in a while to gamble,,, then Tom will fix that

Besides illegal gamlbing...

He plays Elden Ring, which is pretty normal

Besides the fact that he BEAT THAT SHIT IN LIKE 2 DAYS?!!??!!?

Normally streamers, pro gamers, they all take weeks and sometimes even months just to make progress

But Tom is just,,, just better ig?

So yeah... He sticks to gambling cause every other game is just too easy for him

MATTHEO RIDDLE gta V / fortnite / rocket league / nba 2k24

God this guy is the worst sterotypical middle school boy ever

He even had the ugly ass big blue headset with the shit mic on it

Plays GTA V every now and then, only when he's angry

That's when he goes around town and just beats the shit out of everyone

Likes playing Fortnite for hours on end with his friends, mostly Theo and Lorenzo cause they can actually keep up with him (Draco is ass at FPS and

Plays rocket league and NBA 2k24 because of fucking course he does - look at him....

He's just a boy....

A really toxic one.....

Definitely screams "KILL YOURSELFFFFF!!!!!!" if he loses and honestly he's kinda real for that

THEODORE NOTT god of war / detroit become human

Loves games that have a long story

It's a good mix of story and fighting, he can't really get into pure FPS games

Have done most routes in DBH and even found easter eggs and hacks

Tries to get you into the lore as well but sometimes it goes so deep you get confused

"NO!!! Connor in route 8 is actually a pretty neutral guy and he's-"

Like bro what??? Why do you know everything about this "Connor" guy??? smh

He dabbles in some FPS sometimes, like playing Fortnite with Matt and Enzo

And he actually REALLY good

Has great aim and precision

But he just can't get into it for some reason, it's not his type

LORENZO BERKSHIRE valorant / zelda breath of the wild

I feel like Enzo playing Valorant makes so so sooo much sense

He's not AS toxic as the other guys, but he's still weird and fuck-boy-ish in his own way

Definitely plays with e-girls and tries to bag an ABG

But he gets catfished....

He's pretty good at Valorant, surprisingly

His mic stays on for every single game... Even if no one else is talking

This man will talk to a fucking wall and still be yapping

"Okay guys way I need to pee" ...

There's only bots in his server.........

He also loves RPG games and stuff like that

So BOW is perfect for him to shut off his mind and just roam and do useless tasks

[cilleatandserve]

ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ

Masterlist

Summary: After a life-altering event, Y/N has to start her life over. But she’s gotten involved with the wrong people.

A/N: requested by @lucecitasdebel, “Thomas Shelby x Enigmatic Courtesan.” Requested fluff will be in the next part, just had to get the climax done.

Timeline: Not accurate! Starts after Grace leaves for London, Thomas is fighting Kimber in this.

“What have I done?” I groan, wiping the red blotch off the now ruined painting, a portrait of the beautiful black cat, with a red patch conveniently placed as a wound. Vernon was his name, and sleeping seemed all he could do. But I appreciated his presence, provided since I was sold to this god awful household, robbed of my hobbies, although I continued in secret, desperately clinging to the fragments of my former self. I was forced into lustful interactions by the man that would be home right about... now. My heart races as I quickly tidy up my milkmaid dress, which clings to my still-growing body, a constant reminder of the life I never chose. Running up the stairs, I drop Vernon on the floor, and he quickly scatters at the intimidating man’s presence, his instincts sharper than mine.

“Where’s lunch?” The man hunches over me, his breath hot and suffocating, and I scrunch my face in disgust. If you couldn't tell, I detest men, and I would rather die than obey such a creature. But I’m only 20—trapped in a world that feels so much bigger than me. “I get it. You were fuck’n painting again, weren't you?” I stand before the basement door, blocking his path, my heart pounding in my chest as I nod my head. “Useless bitch.” His words cut deeper than any blow, and spit flies directly behind me as he raises his hand to hit me. But at the look of my watering eyes, he hesitates, instead cupping my neck with a grip that feels both possessive and tender, a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside me.

“Don’t be mad at me. I’m only acting like this because you give me no choice.” His voice drips with a twisted sense of justification, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body, a warmth I both crave and despise. With no response, he prods me more, lavishing me with the closest thing to an apology he knows how to give. He pulls out two train tickets to London, and my heart leaps at the sight. A cheap flat, yes, but it earns him a smile, as London was my dream home—a place where I could escape this nightmare. “Now, I’ve spoiled you. Go make dinner.” I nod, the flicker of hope igniting within me, but it’s quickly snuffed out by the reality of my situation.

I wake up abruptly to the sound of thrashing downstairs. Panic surges through me as I run to find years of built-up painting equipment stuffed in garbage bags, my heart sinking at the sight. “Theo!” I yell, my hands waving around in desperation. The chaos of my life feels unbearable, a whirlwind of anger and confusion, and I can’t shake the feeling that beneath all this turmoil, something deeper is stirring—a longing for connection, for understanding, for love that feels as unattainable as the stars outside my window.

“I am getting rid of this bullshit. Don't you see, honey? I’m the only thing you need.” He stands tall, revealing his 6 foot figure. I furrow my brows, my misunderstanding making him angrier. “Me! Not this stupid, unrealistic dream you have engraved inside your inexperienced little head. Not this stupid fucking cat.” He raises his voice, his fury distracting him from my hands searching for my hidden item behind my back.

“What? Are you regretting this relationship now? You don’t have a say. I control you, sweetheart—” He chuckles darkly. I pull out the small pistol, my hands trembling as I aim it in front of me. He laughs, taking casual steps forward. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. You don’t even know how to use a fucking gun.” He snatches the weapon from my grip, holding our shared suitcase as he skips down the stairs, muttering, “useless.”

“You’re the fucking useless one!” I shout, causing him to turn around, slip on the mud, and accidentally pull the trigger, shooting himself in the jaw. I freeze, shaking, then rush over, hunching over his lifeless body, clutching my ticket out of this hellhole. A single tear stains my powdered face as I cradle his head, the eyes that once threatened me now rolled back.

“What have I done?” I choked, gaping at my bloodstained hands in horror. 

The meows of the cat break me out of my nightmares. As much as I felt guilty, I also felt- Happy. This was a blessing in disguise. A chance to paint, to gain respect, and to never take commands from foolish men again. A blessing that got me and Vernon on the trains almost immediately, after a good hour of dragging my ill-fated ex husband into the cut, disguised as one of the many suicidal soldiers. Although, murder is never clean. 

…

London was bright and loud, a stark contrast to the country I grew up in. I stepped into the big city with just a small wad of cash and a dream—a dream of living comfortably, even if my idea of comfort is pretty basic. Basic, but definitely unrealistic. Finding a job on the street in this day and age feels impossible, and I certainly won’t resort to.. pleasing men. Eugh.

As I make my way to what’s supposed to be my flat, I pass through the richer suburbs and accidentally bump into someone—well, two people, actually. I’m momentarily stunned by the sheer beauty of the woman in front of me. Her eyes are piercing, yet her smile is bright and warm, adorned with apologies. I didn’t have many friends growing up, especially not female ones, but I knew I had to be friends with her.

“I’m Y/n,” I say, extending my hand and shaking hers, completely ignoring the man beside her.

“Grace. Grace Burgess. This is my husband.” I smile and nod my head at him in greeting.

“Are you lost?” she asks, tilting her head.

I giggle and sheepishly grin, showing her the address scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper.

…

I drag my small suitcase into the squeaky flat, still carrying the furry ball of black. Is this the best that stupid fucker could buy? I must look like a complete spazz stick. London isn’t as scary as I thought. An hour in, and I’ve already got an invite to a house party. But not like this. I pick at myself in the dirty mirror. After a quick bath, I put on my finest—well, my only—dress and comb my fine black hair. My heels clack against the littered sidewalk as I arrive at the house. It’s massive. I’m welcomed in by the woman herself, and I can’t help but admire the mansion. Fucking huge. They probably have a room just for painting.

“I’m so glad you could come. All my husband's gatherings are so male dominated.” I laugh, having been in such a situation before, not that anyone would find out.  

A drink goes by, then several. I comfort Grace as she cries about some insolent dickhead, Timothee or something. Timothee Shellie? “This is why I don’t trust men. Especially ones who just… don’t value you as a fucking… person!” My words slur and rotate between volumes as she agrees. I needed to go home before I embarrassed myself. First fucking day. Pull yourself together. One more drink.

I step back into reality. God, it’s probably 1 am. I furrow my brows as I find myself hugging Grace tightly as she mumbles, “You’re welcome.” What could she have possibly said? At least I sobered up quickly, I think, as I assess the drunkards on the floor around me. I thanked Grace and her husband before leaving, heading straight for my bed.

…

I wake up to a knock on my door and the sun in my face, makeup still on and still dolled up. I stumble to the door to see Grace. God, this girl is clingy. And she��s holding… croissants? She pushes herself inside and starts happily speaking, “You got the job!!” I smile and celebrate with her before bursting her bubble. “What exactly for…” I nervously grin as she crosses her arms.

“Last night, I said I’d hook you up with my friend. She’s a courtesan.” I gasp immediately. I truly didn't mean to contribute to the stigma, but that wasn't my field. Did I have a choice though?

“Prostitution?” I yell, more surprised than angry. She quickly reassures, “No! Sex work, yes. But better pay, no strings attached. And you can choose!”

“Almost everyone in this field seems to have a disdain for men. It’s a great opportunity, though! And hey! They really appreciate women with charm and skills.” Grace's gaze falls on my few painting brushes.

I gently usher her out of my house, trying to cut through her argument, “You’re a stunning woman, they’ll-,” “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Grace.”

Sitting in silence, I nibble on a croissant. A courtesan. I’m quite the catch. But, men…

…

“I’ll do it,” I tell Grace as we sit at a café, sipping coffee. She beams and explains, “There’s an event on Friday where you’ll introduce yourself to potential clients and impress them. And voilà.”

…

What have I gotten myself into? I cross my arms in front of the mirror, wearing a red silk dress and with my hair pinned up. Just as I reach up to loosen my look, girls burst in from all sides, showering me with compliments. If only I could see the beauty they see. Well, time to stop overthinking. I gracefully enter the gala, holding a champagne glass, joining the other girls as we claim our men and gossip about them. If there’s any type, working men do it best.

Before long, a tall, snobbish man approaches me, and I find myself being coaxed into another drink, maintaining the fake smiles and small talk. “Are you from around here? I’m sure I would remember such a,” he looks me up and down, “beautiful face.” Do I really need to share how the night ended?

Soon enough, I became the temporary talk of South London, an enigma that no one could quite figure out. Some called me mysterious, while others said I was hard to get. It wasn’t as bad as expected

It wasn’t as bad as I had expected; it felt simple and clean. My personal life would remain just that—personal. My room was filled with pictures of birds, and for the first time, I felt liberated from the constraints that place had imposed on me.

…

I gasped for air as I sat up urgently under the blankets of my bed, the warmth fading as fear seeped into my mind. That was the first time the nightmares began—cold sweats and blood pooling in my thoughts.

…

Knock knock. I woke up, my hair a mess and my vision still foggy as I opened the door, having no time to react before Grace barged in.

“Pack your bags. We’re going on a trip.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes. “Where exactly?”

“Birmingham,” she replied with a bright smile. Delaying work was one thing, but Birmingham? What a specific destination.

“Is this about Timothee?” I asked nonchalantly while combing my hair in front of my smaller mirror.

“Thomas,” she corrected. “Please, I need you with me.”

“Just for the weekend, babe. Okay?”

…

It smelled familiar, but it felt like home. I lifted my head from Grace’s shoulder after sleeping majority of the bumpy trip.

“We’re here?”

My clean heels stood out against the average muddy shoes, but I didn’t mind getting them dirty compared to Grace; it reflected our different upbringings. I was similar to these people, but that didn’t mean I trusted them. I followed Grace as she glided effortlessly through the streets, finally bringing us to this “important” guy’s business place. The foggy windows pronounced the name “Shelby.” It was a name I had heard whispered along the way. How influential could this guy really be? She entered the bustling room first, and I cautiously followed.

A scruffy, middle-aged man steps in front of us, nearly blocking the big yellow lights hanging from the ceiling. I can see Grace shifting uncomfortably, so I take the lead. “We’re looking for Tim—” I’m poked in the shoulder. “Thomas Shelby.”

“You’re not welcome,” he says, his gaze fixed particularly on Grace.

Just as I’m about to lose my temper, a figure emerges from the office at the top of the stairs. “What’s all this ruckus, Arthur?” His voice echoes through the now-silent room. He looks at Grace, then at me. With a flick of his hand, everyone returns to their “productive” work.

 “Thomas. I just needed to s—” Grace starts, but he cuts her off with a loud command. “Office.”

I lean against the wall beside the door, arms crossed and wary doe eyes. “What’s yer name, love?” the unremarkable man in front of me l

“I don’t have time for your meaningless confessions, Grace. I have business to do.” Tears well up in her eyes as she pleads—not for a romantic relationship, but for any connection at all.

“Talk to me, Thomas.”

“You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll fucking talk. I’ve got an angry man waiting for me at the races tomorrow, ready to shoot my brains out if I make one wrong move.”

As soon as I feel the cold hand slipping up my thigh, after countless hints. I lose it, my hand meets Arthur's, so hard it could’ve pushed his facial hairs in. My hand snakes to his ear as I pull it, scolding him like I would a kid. “Have you no decency?” 

Thomas abruptly moves his head to the sound, witnessing the scene through the transparent, foggy glass. 

“Who’s your friend?”

“Y/N. Courtesan. Quite the character.” She tries to make a joke, her smile fading as soon as he looks a moment too long at me. 

“Introduce me, will ya?” He asks, plucking the cigarette off his mouth

“Apologise, Arthur.” He says as he walks towards me. A face to the name, at least.

I look down at both of them before grabbing Grace’s wrist as soon as it’s in reach.

“Thank you. We were just leaving.” What a first impression.

“Grace. Stay away from men like those two. Imbeciles, they are.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s only the first day.” 

“Almost the last. I mean it.”

…

Poor girl. I think as I watch Grace from afar. I remember my married days, not that they were long ago. 

“I’ll go get us some breakfast,” I say before stepping out of the apartment she somehow managed to get. She recommended this café down the road; the least I could do was buy her something for all the good she’s done me.

I enter the café and place my order, settling into a seat across from the window. Just then, I notice the sunlight is blocked. I look up to see a cloud of smoke in my face before I see him—Shelby.

“Miss L/N,” he says casually as he takes a seat.

It felt strange not hearing my husband’s last name attached to mine anymore.

“Want one?” he offers, extending a cigarette.

I shake my head, maintaining my composure.

“I’d like to do business with you.”

“What does this business consist of?”

He glances around before replying, “We can discuss this—”

“Here,” I finish for him. There’s no way I’d be alone in a room with this guy.

“All i need you to do is accompany me to a gala and be a distraction.”

“That’s not my line of work.” I get up and walk past him, exiting the cafe without the food. One job y/n. 

…

That night, the nightmares returned, heavier this time, something sinister lurking beneath the surface. Goosebumps prickled my skin as I rose from bed, the chill seeping through my thin night slip.

"Y/N."

The whisper brushed my ear. I whirled around—empty space. "Theo?" I murmured, careful not to wake Grace.

Downstairs, I opened the door to a biting breeze that raised the hairs on my arms. Drawn by the whispers, I found myself at the edge of an open lake. Kneeling, I gazed into the dark water, tears joining the flow. "I'm sorry."

A burst of harsh laughter made me spin around. The Shelbys. Of course. As soon as Thomas's eyes locked onto mine, I retreated into the apartment, vanishing like a phantom.

…

The next morning, I told Grace about the offer, surprisingly refreshed despite the night's disturbances.

"Just hear him out," she urged. If she trusted him, maybe I could too. That was enough.

"I'll go now, then."

"Thank you."

Leaving the house, I was more composed, more presentable. As i stroll down the street, in the far distance I see a familiar face. Tall. Brown hair. Theo? Flashes of his bloodied hair, his cheeks going cold flickered through my mind . I stumble backwards before i’m running, focusing on speed rather than location. Once i’m severely out of breath, I stop, finding myself in an alleyway, mud splattered on the back of my legs.

"Hey, missy." A voice from the shadows.

"Theo, I didn't mean to. Please." I pleaded, but the figure stepped into the light, face hard, knife glinting.

"I can be Theo," he snarled, before crumpling to the ground, pummeled by Shelby. I watched, paralyzed, as Shelby turned to me, as if this violence was routine.

"How convenient. I was looking for you." I said, clutching my purse, trying for confidence.

"Sure? Seemed like you were running for your life back there?" He gestured back to the street, but he knew—he knew about the nightmares. he had nightmares too often, just like that. 

“Let’s talk. Payment.” 

"50k. If it's successful." I didn't dare ask about failure.

Two hours of small talk for 50k. Easy, Y/N. A piece of cake.

"Okay. I'll do it. But," I continued, needing to set the boundaries, "no sexual interactions, unless I have notice and consent."

He agreed, then drove me home before heading to his office. I was something, alright. He walked into his office, "Arthur, get a report on that new girl."

…

The gala. Today. I slipped into the dress delivered by "T. Shelby." A touch of rouge, my hair in curls. Grace wished me luck as I descended. Why not Grace for the job? Safety? Huh. I nodded to Thomas as he held open the car door. The ride was silent, ending at a huge mansion ablaze with lights. My arm linked with his, I was swept inside, introductions coming so fast I couldn't breathe. Finally, after meeting half the city, we sat down. After a droning speech, jazz filled the room—not my taste, but bearable. Thomas looked at me expectantly.

"Do you dance?"

"Only when asked nicely," I said, a grin tugging at my lips.

"Will you dance with me, Miss L/N?" Fuck. When had I become so easy?

I took his hand, letting him lead me to the dance floor. We moved together, bodies aligned, until his steps subtly guided us toward a specific table. The music hadn't stopped when he began to speak. I turned and introduced myself. The main target, no doubt.

"Mind if I have a turn?"

I glanced at Thomas as my hand was taken by the man. He was polished, but my instincts screamed danger. Back on the dance floor, joyless this time. Once the music ends, we stop dancing. Thank God. I think everyone in the room saw that monstrosity. I watched the two men converse before being whisked away into Thomas's car.

“You’ll spend the night with ‘im.”

I turn to face him. “What? No way.” I say, as i harshly open the car door. Conveniently locked. 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Why. Why couldnt you use a fucking whore you saw on the street.” I yell, tears welling up in my eyes

“Nobody wants to fuck a diseased common whore.”

“Fuck you. I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Like you did with your husband? Theodore. Theodore DeLongi?” He reveals as he lights his cigarette. 

“Get the fuck back inside.” He barks.

[nevermore-mourn-official]

I don't know how Merry convinced me this was a good idea

This blog is run by Headmaster Mourn of Nevermore Academy. I accept inquiries, as I'm sure you would have questions about how this all works.

-Rules and guidelines-

• I will be assigning merits and demerits where I see fit.

• No NSFW asks. I know how utterly.. repulsive you students can be. I will be having none of that on my blog.

• No trauma dumping in my askbox. I say this for the same reasons as Merry.

• No fastpass spoilers. They ruin the game. I may know many things, but the future is not one of them. (mod is not a fastpasser)

• I will do my best to not act oddly, or as some might say, "out of character", but I am only supernatural, and thus I may make "characterization" mistakes from time to time.

😒//

Feel free to ask me about (almost) anything and everything!

Also feel free to tell on the students (and Merry) so I can give them demerits!

Note that I will try my best to act in character, which will most likely result in scolding and/or giving demerits.

Please just block this blog if it makes you uncomfortable.

Dividers:

@sisterlucifergraphics

@bernardsbendystraws

Nevermore rp blogs-

Staff:

Dean Merry- -3 @nevermore-merry-official

Dean Mourn- 10

Poppet- -2 @your-favorite-teacher-poppet

Dolly- 0 @nevermores-only-nurse

Another Dolly- 0 @the-only-nurse-in-this-school

The Wisps- 0 @wispsofthenevermoreacademy

?The Kid who is totally not in our basement- 0 @a-boy-in-a-void

Students:

-Misfits-

Lenore Vandernacht- 0 @lenorevandernacht

Lenore (Other)- -15 @lenorev1901

Duke Laurent- -10 @duke-laurent

Pluto- 0 @purr-of-smoke

Eulalie- 0 @imtheghostnow

Berenice- -5 @berenicenevermore

?Morella- -5 @angel-in-green

-Clusterfucks-

Annabel Lee Whitlock- 0 @annabelleewhitlock

Annabel (Other)- 10 @annabel-lee-whitlock

Montresor- -340 @asshole-cowboy-devil

Ada Lovelace- 0 @adaa-lovelace

Will- 0 @diary-of-a-willy-kid

Will doppelganger?- 0 @wontwilson-realwilliam

Prospero- 0 @rats-of-death

-Other students-

The Manor Girls- 5 @victemsoffical

Madeline Usher- -30 @undergroundbell

Evangeline Ariti- 5 @evangeline-diaries

Theo Vandernacht- 0 @theo-vandernacht

August?- 0 @not-viktorr

Eleanora Prescott- -20 @eleonoras-library

Kane Alden- -30 @b4ckseat-bingo-ch4mp

Amerias- 0 @amerias-the-hoplite

Mika- 5 @outside-apple-gurl

Valerie- 0 @crzy-gh0st

Goldie- -5 @itching-for-a-bitchin

Boria Volkov- 0 @boria-volkov

Animals:

Prospero's Rats- 0 @rats-who-eat-you

Prospero's other Rats- 0 @squeak-squeak-bitch

The Stag- 0 @youcantrunfromthewildhunt

The Hounds- 0 @theloyalhoundsofthewildhunt

The Raven- 0 @a-raven-thats-not-so-raven

Aristro Cat Catterina?- 0 @aristro-cat-catterina

Worthless Mutt- 0 @a-worthless-mutt

Flashback Characters:

Prospero's mother- 0 @motheroftheratman

Montresor's Mother- 0 @blessedangel666

Luca- 10 @way2rich4this

Egaeus- 0 @egaeus-exists

Johnny- 0 @johnny-kicking-up-dust

Sallie- 0 @the-kansas-kutie

Thomas- -5 @mastertamerlanethomas

Percy?- 0 @teaandcheckmates

Leo (Lenore?)- 0 @leo-vandernatch

Anonymous- -113

[saucefunk]

need to be employed to write the monkey imdb trivia page because there’s so many fun little details i can list comprehensively.

for example:

the pawn shop owner in the opening is played by shafin karim, who also starred in longlegs as the doctor who didn’t check ids at carrie anne’s clinic

oz perkins narrates the sex ed clip in the 1999 sequence

when aunt ida falls into the boxes below the basement steps, one of them is labelled ‘bear traps’, likely a nod to saw 2004 since james wan produced the film

during the same scene, when aunt ida turns on the lights in the basement, you can see the monkey illuminated for a split second in the corner

the young twins sequence was originally meant to be set in the 70s, which is why some of bill’s lines sound anachronistic (i.e. “i was gonna marry that girl.”)

spectral tilt, the band that composed the original song ‘water’ for longlegs, have a new song included in this movie that plays during the ending credits. it’s not on music platforms yet sadly

there’s a deleted scene where a scorpion climbs into young bill’s hot chocolate mug and hal manages to toss it out just in time. you can spot some of it in the redband trailer

the twins are deliberately backlit with inverted colours- bill with cooler colours and hal with warmer tones. when the come together in the end, the colours start to converge and bill starts to be lit with mostly warm light

the line “the monkey that likes killing our family. it’s back” was recorded by theo james for the trailer only

according to oz perkins, the pale rider in the ending acknowledges hal with mild annoyance because the personification of death is exhausted and “the monkey has him working overtime”

[theonotti]

SILENT NIGHT | OS | t.n.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader!Riddle

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: The ghost of Christmas Eve Past haunts Theo's present, but not because he needs to change. He needs a reminder of who to never become.

Warnings: Major Character Death (Not Theo or reader), Domestic Violence (Not with Theo or reader), Hurt/Comfort, angsty, fluffy,

Notes: I'm late, but heres a Christmas one shot for Theo :)

That Final Night | Mio

Christmas Eve: Then

“Teddy? To bed, my love.” 

Theo smiled from his hiding spot behind the curtains. In his eight year old mind, there’s no way she could see him. He was invisible. Behind the silky fabric, he ceased to exist. Beyond the darkness between the window and the curtain, Theo could hear the sounds of his mother’s heels tapping against the hardwood. She was close. He could see the outline of her silhouette from the other side of the thin curtain. 

“Father Christmas won’t leave any presents if he knows a certain boy is still awake and hiding!” Her honey soaked voice echoed out again. Before Theo even had the chance to process her words, the curtain was ripped away and he was in his mother’s arms. She spun herself around, making Theo fell as if he was flying through the air. His shrieks of laughter bounced off the thinly decorated walls before she slowed to a halt, smiling lovingly at the wavy haired boy.

“Come, love,” She whispered to him. “I have your tea ready.”

Setting him back down to his feet, Cassundra Nott smiled down at her son before leading him out of the sitting room and down the corridor to his bedroom. 

Theo didn’t like walking the halls of the mansion, despite his many years of living there. The energy in the air was always so grim, the walls bare and painted a dark grey colour. Theo was convinced that there were demons in the walls, due to the screams he could hear coming from them some nights. His mother assured him time and time again that they were only in his nightmares, but Theo was wise for his mere eight years. The nights he heard the screams being the same nights he would see his father go into the basement of the house as the young lad was ushered quickly to bed was not lost on Theo.

In fact, it only made him wonder if his father was summoning the demons, keeping them there as a way to ensure Theo stayed in line. 

There was only one person who brought any slither of warmth under the cold roof of Nott Manor, and it was the woman walking a few paces ahead of him. Her golden blonde curls trailed down her back, her delicate fingers tracing an invisible line into the wall as she led Theo to his bedroom. He looked at her with such incredible awe. Theo didn’t worship any sort of God, because no God could even come close to comparing to the wonder that was Cassundra Nott. If someone told him that she hung the stars and the moon every night, and that the sun only rose because she asked it to, he would’ve easily believed them. There were few people that Theo had in the world. His father’s care for him only extended as far as keeping the Nott legacy going. So that left Theo with three people: Mattheo, Draco, and his mother. But she topped the list. In every circumstance, she topped the list.

His mother opened the door to his bedroom, ushering him inside. The dark green of the walls made the room seem much darker than Theo would like. His father insisted on the colour scheme matching that of Slytherin house, as if it would somehow eliminate the already incredibly low chances of him ending up in another house come time for him to ship off to Hogwarts. His slot in the House of the Cunning and Ambitious was as guaranteed as the snow falling in the winter, or his father downing half a bottle of whiskey before dinner. Theo wished the walls were blue, though he learned the hard way to not let that thought be anything more than a thought.

A steaming mug of tea was sitting on the bedside table, waiting for him as his mother pulled the blankets out for him. Her smile was warm as he walked over to the bed, crawling under the covers and taking the warm mug between his hands. He knew it had Calming Draught in it, as he received this same dose in his tea every Christmas Eve, as well as the evening before his birthday. 

Cassundra sat on the edge of the bed as she watched Theo take a long sip from the mug. 

“Are you ready for Christmas, love?” She asked gently, raking her fingers through Theo’s hair. As he swallowed the tea, he nodded vigorously. 

“I hope Father Christmas got me the broom I asked for!” He exclaimed. “Mattheo let me try his new broom and it was so fast! I bet I could get to Scotland in under five minutes.”

His mother laughed softly before saying, “Under five minutes? That sounds rather fast.” 

Theo nodded enthusiastically.

“I could get to Hogwarts faster than the train! I won’t even need to take it! And then I could come visit you every single evening, so you can give me a kiss and a cuddle goodnight.” 

If Theo weren’t so young and oblivious, he would’ve noticed the flush that filled his mother’s cheeks, or the tender smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. Or even the sadness that filled her eyes over the idea of him leaving her. 

“Well, we have a few years yet before we have to worry about that,” She said delicately. “Maybe if you don’t get a broom this year, you’ll get one the Christmas before Hogwarts?” But all this response does is make Theo groan in displeasure.

“I don’t want to wait two years! I want a broom now!”

His mother smiled at his impatience, hooking her finger underneath his chin and forcing him to look up at her.

“I know you’re excited, lovely boy,” She said in a soft voice. “But I promise you, you’re going to have a good day tomorrow. I’ve made sure to let Father Christmas know how wonderful you’ve been this year.” She scrunched up her nose as she kissed the tip of his. “He doesn’t need to know of the times you were trouble.” She tilted her head as she looked down at him. “Surely he won’t disappoint.” 

Theo looked up at his mother. Of course she was right. She was right about everything. And he trusted her more than anyone else to make sure Father Christmas knew what he wanted more than anything for Christmas. 

Theo finished the last of his tea, making sure he got every last drop like he always did. When he set the mug down, he smiled up at the beautiful face of his mother, who was already smiling down at him. The potion’s effects were already starting to take hold, the running wheel of his mind slowing to a halt as his eyelids grew droopy. With one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder, Cassundra laid Theo down against his pillow.

“Now,” She said, her voice more stern than normal. “What are we not going to do this year?”

Theo let out a tired sigh.

“I won’t sneak down before morning to see what gifts are left for me.”

His mother nodded once, definitively.

“We don’t need another episode with your father.” In his obliviousness from ignorance and the Calming Drought effects, Theo didn’t notice the disdain in her voice, or the fear that flooded her face. Though he did remember the events of the year prior, the screaming from his father at all hours of the morning, followed by Theo being banished to his room until midday. 

“I won’t sneak down again, mamma,” He said in a small voice, a yawn escaping him as his eyes began to droop shut. 

Cassundra tucked the blankets in before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Theo’s forehead. 

“Sleep well, il mio tesoro,” She said in a quiet whisper as the chestnut haired boy had already lost himself to his subconscious. With one last loving look, and a delicate trace down his cheek to ensure he was really sleeping, Cassundra Nott stood up from the bed and left the room, closing the door tightly behind her. 

Little did she know that this would be the last time she saw her son like this.

It was only a few hours later that Theo was awoken by none other than his bladder. He squinted his eyes in the dark as he jumped out of bed, all but running from the room as quickly as his still asleep legs could take him. It wasn’t until he was in the bathroom that he started to wake up. The clock in the hallway chimed three in the morning, meaning his mother was long asleep. His father had gone out to celebrate the holidays with a few other Death Eaters, and he made sure to tell Cassundra and Theo that it was unlikely he would be home before dinner the next day. 

Just one peak.

And then you’ll be back in bed.

No one will ever know.

The logic made sense to him, and before he knew it, his feet were carrying him out of the bathroom and down the hall. Walking right passed his bedroom, he went right to the stairs and slowly tiptoed down.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that the voices registered.

“...wake Theodore, please keep your voice down.”

“How dare you police me in my own home!?”

The slur in his father’s voice was so prominent that he almost didn’t recognize him, though the yelling was a sound the young lad was deeply accustomed to. Theo sank down so he was sitting down on the edge of the step, his hands gripping the wooden poles of the bannister as he watched his mother cower. Standing behind the man of the house was a flash of long, platinum white hair with a cane that was used in this moment to stop him from swaying. Next to Lucius Malfoy was Fenrir Greyback, his arms bare despite the raging cold outside, and Antonin Dolohov, who had a flask to his mouth as he watched Nott Sr. in amusement. All of the men in the living room were inebriated beyond belief. 

Cassundra swallowed hard before she spoke again. The fear was so clear cut on her face that Theo wanted to rush to her and cup her cheeks, telling her all would be okay.

“I’m not policing you…” She said in a small voice. “I just think it’s Christmas Eve, and I’m setting up for Theodore, and-”

Her words were lost to the force of Nott Sr.’s hand wrapping around her throat and slamming her against the wall. Her head was unable to bounce forward, but it was evident by the deep grimace on her face how hard it was hit. The reverberation of his mother’s body denting the drywall caused Theo to fall backwards, almost falling down the stairs entirely. 

“Are you arguing with me?” Nott Sr.’s voice was so low that Theo almost couldn’t hear it. But he’d learn how to pick out that voice at a very young age. It was how he knew when to go sit quietly in his room with a book, remaining unseen and unheard. 

“No!” Cassundra was able to gasp out, her hands trying and failing to pry her husband’s calloused fingers from her throat. 

“That sounded like arguing to me, Nott,” Lucius piped in. “Can't let anyone think your wife wears the trousers in the household, can you?”

Theo was not a violent child, but the sound of his best friend’s father egging on the abuse of his mother was filling the eight year old’s chest with a level of anger he had never felt before. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch. He wanted to hit and hit and hit Lucius until his big, ugly nose went flat. But the fear that his mother taught him to have of his father and the other Death Eaters pulled at his muscles, keeping him frozen on the stairs as he watched the scene unfold. 

Before Theo had a moment to breathe, a wand appeared in Nott Sr.’s free hand, the tip pressed into his wife’s jugular. Theo could feel the air being ripped out of his lungs as he watched the colour leave Cassundra’s cheeks. Her face was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree beside her. Theo’s face was pressed against the wood, so much so that his head was almost fully squeezing between the poles.

“You ungrateful bitch,” Nott Sr. sneered angrily. “Disrespecting me in front of my colleagues.”

“Are you planning to let that slide, Nott?” Fenrir chimed in with a laugh before taking a long swig from a bottle of firewhiskey. 

“Maybe I should have your voice?”

His wand didn’t even move, but a spark of light still shot out of the end, and suddenly, Cassundra’s mouth opened and closed, but no words, not even a stammer or faint whisper, came out. Hot tears spilled down Theo’s cheeks and onto his pyjama bottoms, but he didn’t notice as he watched in horror while his mother tried to speak but only air left her mouth. 

Please stop.

Please don’t.

I couldn’t handle never hearing her speak again.

Or hearing her sing to me.

Or hearing her say my name.

Theo’s hands gripped the poles so tightly that his knuckles turned a blazing shade of white. 

Nott Sr. threw his wife to the ground as Lucius, Fenrir and Antonin laughed in amusement, as if Nott Sr. had told a joke or done something funny. But none of this was funny. Not to Theo, who wanted to run over and protect his mother. Who wanted nothing more than to bring the same sort of pain to his father and friends that they were bringing to the most important person in his life. 

“A woman must remember her place,” Nott Sr. continued on, pacing slow circles around his wife while his fellow Death Eater’s watched in belligerent amusement. The slur in his voice would’ve added a sort of facetiousness to his words, but with the way he looked down at the blonde figure he had just thrown to the floor, it only made it more menacing.

“And how will you remind her?” Lucius asked, causing Theo’s father to turn and look at the blonde haired man with a smirk.

“I have a few ideas in mind.”

Cassundra attempted to scream with every fibre of her being, veins popping out of her neck and forehead while her skin turned a dark red, but no sound came out at all. Theo felt her pain as if he, too, had his voice taken from him, as if he had been slammed against the wall, as if he had been thrown to the floor. 

Nott Sr. turned back to his wife, the smirk fading quickly from his face and replaced with disdain. He raised his wand above his head.

Theo blacked out. 

The eight year old’s legged carried him at a speed he didn’t know he could move at, until he was throwing his arms around his mother, guarding her.

“Father, please,” He sobbed into her soft blonde curls as he addressed the presence towering over them. Cassundra wrapped her arms around Theo, noiselessly comforting him as her fingers raked through his hair, her eyes squeezed shut. The room went deadly silent for a brief moment.

“You will learn to speak when you’re bloody spoken to, boy,” Nott Sr. sneered, his voice low and filled with even more anger than before as he grabbed Theo by the back of his shirt and ripped him out of his mother’s arms, tossing him across the room so hard, he slid across the hardwood floor and into the wall. A shadow leered over him as Nott Sr. rounded on Theo, his wand at the ready.

“If you’re so desperate to be a man, then you can handle her punishment then, can’t you?”

The next few moments went by so quickly, yet also as if they were in slow motion.

Nott Sr. raised his hand above his head, the tip of his wand igniting into a bright red colour. 

A flash of blonde jumped onto his back, tackling the older man to the ground. 

Lucius and Antonin grab Cassundra off Nott Sr. and toss her to the floor once more.

And then, the flash of green.

He didn’t hear his father speak. Hell, he didn’t even see his father get up from the floor. But make no mistake, Theo didn’t miss the older man, with the wild chestnut hair that he did inherit and the menacing look that he did not, pointing his wand at his mother, sending the bright green spell directly into her chest. 

She was gone before the scream left Theo’s mouth. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no…”

Theo crawled across the floor, moving his mother’s head from the floor to his lap as he placed his hands on either cheek.

“Mum, please,” He begged, staring into her lifeless eyes as they remained open. “Mamma, wake up. PLEASE WAKE UP!”

“For Merlin’s sake…” His father mumbled before flicking his wand once more. Theo’s voice evaporated off his tongue, but his lips still moved as he soundlessly begged his mother to come back to him. His tears fell onto the bare skin of her shoulder, and he wondered if they would be enough to warm her back to life. When she didn’t stir, Theo broke down entirely, holding her head close to his chest and burying his face in her golden curls as he began to rock back and forth. 

“One of the house elves will clean it up,” Nott Sr. said to his friends, as if speaking about a

spilled dinner plate and not the dead body of his wife. “Come, gentlemen. The parlour is where my

reserve is, and I need another glass after that… unfortunate incident.”

And so Nott Sr. left the room, followed by Malfoy, Dolohov and Greyback, leaving his grieving son on the floor, where he stayed for hours until the house elves finally pried the body of Cassundra Nott out of his hands.

The hands that would never get to hug or touch his mother ever again. 

~

Christmas Eve: Now

The sound of a crash echoes throughout the kitchen, followed quickly with a loud groan. 

“Sorry, sorry…”

“I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if you wake up my wife, I’ll throttle you.”

A slew of drunken laughter fills the kitchen as the three men clamber in through the back door. Draco respectfully picks up the trash can he knocked over under the watchful eye of Theo. Once it’s back in its proper position, Draco gestures towards it proudly, as if he had just done something profound.

“Happy, Nott?”

Theo bobs his head back and forth, pretending to mull this over.

“I’d be happier if you weren’t an idiot.”

Mattheo, who had just taken a large pull from the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, spits it out all over the refrigerator.

“That’s like asking for snow in the middle of July.”

With a deep scowl on his face, Draco shoves Mattheo into the counter before sneering, “Fuck off, Riddle.” 

Mattheo, in his truest form, makes kissy faces at Malfoy, who then proceeds to throw a kitchen roll at his head. Before it can hit the floor, Theo catches it in midair. The other two look at him as if he had just juggled seven kitchen rolls, or caught Baby Jesus himself. 

“Alright, alright, let’s move to the parlour before the two of you destroy my kitchen.”

The walk from the kitchen to the parlour is one the three of them have taken on drunken nights like these hundreds of times, yet at this moment, the distance seems to have grown exponentially longer. Mattheo stumbles as he walks, a loud laugh escaping him as he anchors himself with the wall. Theo, in an effort to keep his friend quiet, smacks him upside the head. 

“What was that for?” The dark curly haired man shouts, not without an undercurrent of laughter in his tone. 

“For being a git,” Theo hisses. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

It’s too late though.

Over the sound of Draco’s giggles, Theo can make out the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Theo?”

His heart stops at the sight of you on the landing, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as they jump between him and his friends. He smiles sheepishly at you. 

“Did we wake you, cara mia?”

You shake your head as you reach the bottom of the steps. He sucks in a large gulp of oxygen as he takes in the sight of you. Even in your pyjamas, he finds the sight of you simply breathtaking. The sleep stains on your face and the way your eyes droop makes his heart race as if he was just seeing you for the first time. With a slight sway in his step, his feet carry him towards your magnetic pull, his hands gently gripping your waist. 

“You can tell me if we woke you,” He says in a gentle voice, an undercurrent of guilt filling his tone. But you shake your head again as you bring your hands to the tops of his shoulders, running your fingers along the curves of his muscles to the dip of his neck. 

“I woke up a couple of minutes before I heard you come inside, I promise.”

He doesn’t believe you, but his blood shot eyes are so enraptured by the beauty that is your face that he doesn’t care. His hands move up to cradle your cheeks before he brings his face to yours, peppering your skin with kisses. Your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your temples, your eyelids. Every piece of you that he can reach gets a kiss. His fingertips tease weave into your hair as you place your hands on his clavicle, laughing as he kisses you.

From behind him, Mattheo and Draco both make fake retching noises. 

“I’ve never met a more disgusting couple,” Malfoy whines.

“Truly the worst to be around,” Riddle adds in agreement.

“Oh, piss off to the parlour, you two,” Theo barks as he pulls his mouth away from your face. He doesn’t turn to make sure they leave, trusting the sound of their fading footsteps down the hall. His thumbs stroke the skin of your cheeks delicately.

“Happy Christmas, my love,” He says before gently kissing your mouth. You hum contently as the kiss lasts a few more seconds. 

“Happy Christmas, Theo.”

The sight of you smiling up at him makes his stomach flip. He finds himself wondering how he got so lucky, finding you? From the moment you walked into his life that fateful day at Hogwarts, his life turned into a sort of dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And it was made even better when you had married him. 

Even after all this time, he can’t get enough of you.

“Get some sleep,” He says gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll keep the boys quiet.”

“Please,” You say, your voice still husky from just having woken up. “And please tell Mattheo that if he throws up on the carpet again, it’ll be him cleaning it up, not the house elves.”

Theo lets out a hearty, full laugh. It’s something his life is filled with a lot of these days. With his friends and you by his side, sometimes it’s easy for him to forget that it wasn’t always like this. 

“I love you with my entire heart,” He slurs, gently kissing you again. “Please never forget that.”

You laugh softly again, the sound making Theo feel lightheaded. Or is it the alcohol? No, it’s definitely the sound of your laugh. 

“I love you too, Drunky,” You tease him. “Please make sure you come to bed. Don’t fall asleep in the parlour.” He nods, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Yes, cara mia.”

You give him one last kiss to the cheek before you turn and make your way back upstairs. Theo’s eyes watch you the entire way, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you disappear into the hallway. It isn’t until he hears the creaky bedroom door close that he finally turns and starts walking towards the parlour to join his mates. 

As he walks down the hall, one of the pictures out of the corner of his eye stops him. Slowly, he turns, the amusement leaving his face as his eyes fall on that one painting.

His mother smiles down at him as she sits in a rocking chair. Behind her is a dark space where his father had been, up until a night of grief and alcohol caused Theo to direct a spell towards the fake personification, and subsequently led to the destruction of all paintings of his father in the house. Though he had the frame replaced, the damage remains.

His eyes trace the trail of golden curls that flow down her shoulders and upper torso. He can still remember how soft the strands felt when she’d kiss him goodnight and they’d brush along his cheek.

“Please tell me I’m not like him,” He begs her, his voice suddenly small. “Please tell me I’ve made you proud.”

She smiles tenderly down at him, his heart feeling ready to burst.

“Oh, il mio tesoro,” She says softly as his eyes flutter shut. “You're ten times the man he’d ever be. And I couldn’t be more proud of you if I tried.” 

Theo smiles widely, tears escaping through his shut eyelids.

Bliss.

[raekensluver]

three marks and a promise

masterlist | main masterlist

description: after a brutal fight, theo helps patch you up - and something deeper begins to surface

pairing: theo raeken x chimera!fem!reader

contains: comfort/fluff, tw: season five theo, reader is injured, takes place after the fight in eichen in 5x11, mentions of blood, coyote chimera!reader, mutual pining, reader is technically a villain.

song rec: reflections by the neighbourhood - "we were too close to the stars, i never knew somebody like you, somebody."

w.c: 1.0k

the stairs down to the dread doctors’ basement were slick with rain, blood, and the kind of exhaustion that clung to your bones like frostbite. every step sent a fresh bolt of pain ripping through your abdomen, a sharp, molten burn where scott’s claws had torn into you, and you gritted your teeth to hold in the sounds that wanted out.

theo was beside you - no, half-carrying you - one hand pressing firm and steady against your bleeding side, the other wrapped tightly around your wrist. he didn’t speak much. just muttered quiet things like “almost there,” voice low and tense, as if saying it aloud might keep you from collapsing on the spot.

you didn’t tell him how close you were to passing out. you didn’t need to. he adjusted every time you stumbled like he was anticipating it. didn’t flinch when your weight sagged into him. didn’t complain when your blood soaked into his shirt.

the others had made it back before you - corey, tracy, hayden, josh. you could smell their blood, the lingering edge of fear in the air. they were nowhere in sight now, probably already passed out or tending to their own wounds. you and theo had stayed behind. you, because scott’s claws had carved through your side with deliberate fury. theo, because he didn’t leave. not when it was you. not ever.

he got you through the rusted door of the basement and toward his corner of it - theo's makeshift refuge: a cot shoved between old crates and exposed pipework, the air thick with antiseptic and faint, lingering blood. your knees buckled the moment you saw the bed, but theo caught you, guided you down with practiced ease.

"sit down,” he ordered, low and clipped, and you obeyed, too tired to do anything else.

you winced as you hit the mattress, your hand twitching toward your side, fingers damp with blood. theo crouched, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. his gaze traveled over you, assessing with clinical efficiency - but there was something behind it. something harder. like he hated what he saw.

“it's deep,” he muttered. “you’ll heal, but it’s gonna suck.”

“great. love that for me,” you rasped, voice laced with just enough sarcasm to hide the way your vision blurred.

theo didn’t smile, but his eyes flicked up, amused for half a second. “i need to see it.”

you nodded, fingers fumbling at your shirt. it peeled away from your skin with a sickening stick, soaked through and rust-colored. you tugged it over your head with a grunt, the cool air biting at your skin. your bra was soaked through with blood, clinging to you. underneath, three deep, jagged claw marks tore through the skin of your abdomen. they were still oozing, the edges raw and angry. the wound didn’t look clean. it looked like it hated you.

theo stared for a moment. not long. but long enough.

then he moved - quick, efficient, grabbing gauze, a bottle of saline, and dropping to his knees in front of you like he’d done it before. maybe he had.

“this is gonna burn,” he warned, uncapping the bottle.

you narrowed your eyes. “can’t wait.”

he poured.

when the saline hit the wound, it felt like fire. your whole body arched forward, a whimper tearing from your throat before you could choke it back.your vision blurred and your fingers dug into the edge of the cot. theo’s hands stayed steady.

“you okay?”

you nodded quickly, even though it was a lie. “hurts,” you breathed. “obviously.”

“i'm almost finished,” he promised.

the pain made your body react before your mind could stop it - fangs dropping with a faint click. when he pressed a little too close to the worst part of the wound, a growl slipped out - low and warning. your hand shot out, grabbing for the nearest thing. his shoulder. claws sharp, digging into skin.

theo didn’t move. didn’t even blink.

“please, don’t make it worse,” you gritted out, voice shaking but still yours.

“then stay still,” he said, calm. focused. like your claws in his skin didn’t even register.

the silence returned, heavy. your breathing slowed, heart still thudding behind your ribs. his knuckles brushed your skin as he finished dressing the wound, his hands warm, grounding.

when he was done, he tossed the bloodied gauze to the side and sat back. your gaze drifted to his shoulder - where your claws had left faint red marks in his skin.

“sorry,” you said, calmer now. not sheepish, exactly. just sincere.

theo glanced down. “you’re not the first person to claw me,” he said. “probably not the last.”

you huffed something that could’ve been a laugh. “still.”

“you’re healing already,” he said next, eyes returning to the dressing he had plastered on. “but it’ll take time. alpha wounds don’t just hurt. they linger.”

you looked at him. really looked at him. his face, all sharp lines and shadows in the low light. the worry etched into his brow, the tension that hadn’t left his shoulders since you’d collapsed on that cot.

“you stayed for me,” you said, voice low.

he met your eyes.

“i had to”

“you could’ve gone back with the others.”

he shook his head once. “we’re connected. coyote to coyote. you feel it, right?”

you nodded. your throat felt too tight to speak.

"it's instinct," he stated, his voice firm and unwavering. "i had to stay. i couldn't leave you out there to fend for yourself."

you didn’t say anything for a moment. the room was too still. the air between you, too thick.

he cleared his throat and looked away, jaw tight again. “you should change into something clean,” he said. “you’ll heal better without dried blood stuck to you.”

he stood, walked to the crate of supplies, and tossed you a clean shirt - his. worn black cotton. too big. it smelled like smoke, pine, and something unmistakably him - dark, wild, and grounding all at once.

“here. you’ll sleep better.”

you didn’t turn around. he did anyway.

you took your time, fingers shaky, body still too hot and too cold all at once. once the shirt was on, swallowing you up, you felt…better. not good. but

“okay,” you said softly when you were done.

theo turned back. his eyes scanned you once. he didn’t say anything. just nodded.

you let your weight sag against the wall. the cot creaked. theo didn’t sit back down. not immediately.

the minutes passed in quiet pulses. you weren’t sure when you stopped thinking and started fading - just that your body finally gave in to the ache. not the sharp kind, not anymore. just the deep, humming kind that settled in your bones and made everything heavy. your eyes slipped closed, your breathing slowed, and theo stayed where he was, silent and still.

then you heard him move, the warmth of his body disappearing, the echo of his boots stepping carefully so he wouldn’t wake you.

his presence vanished from beside you, and in your half-asleep haze, it felt like cold air rushing in.

your fingers twitched. your voice was barely above a breath.

“don’t go.” it wasn’t pleading. just tired. soft. a simple truth.

a beat of silence.

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

theo didn’t say anything else. just returned, slower this time. he didn’t touch you - not at first. just, settled in next to you, a careful distance away, the warmth of his body settling beside yours like a second blanket.

you fell asleep before you could thank him.

when you woke, it was to the unfamiliar sensation of being warm in a way you hadn’t expected - held. protected. his arms were around you, not tight, just there. one curved under your shoulders, the other draped loosely over your waist, his hand resting above the bandage he’d taped down. you were curled into him, your nose brushing his collarbone, your legs tangled with his.

your eyes opened slowly. he was still asleep.

and for a second, you didn’t move.

when he stirred awake, he blinked down at you, brows furrowed.

“morning,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

you smiled into his shoulder. “you stayed.”

“you asked.”

“so,” he muttered, “how do they feel?”

you blinked, still a little dazed, then reached down and carefully peeled back the bandage across your side.

what met your eyes wasn’t the angry, brutal wound from the night before. instead, three pale marks remained - small. shallow. like the scratch of a housecat. you stared at them, stunned.

and then you laughed.

“that’s it?” you laughed, breathless and giddy, fingers skimming over your side. “you acted like i was circling the drain. now i’ve got, what- a glorified cat scratch?”

“you were bleeding out,” theo said, tone dry, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

you turned toward him, grin softening. “seriously. you’re kind of amazing.”

he raised an eyebrow, something flashing in his eyes. “say that again.”

“what, that you’re-” you started, but he cut you off with a look, sharp and amused. you rolled your eyes. “fine. thank you, theo.”

and before you could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him. quick. warm. instinctive.

but the moment you pulled back, his hand caught your wrist.

you didn’t even have time to react before he tugged you right back in.

“not how this works,” he muttered.

then his mouth was on yours - harder this time, surer. not rushed, but deliberate. claiming. the kind of kiss that didn’t ask permission because he already knew the answer.

your breath hitched, body tensing for half a second before melting into it, heat flaring in your chest and down your spine. his hand slipped around your waist, the other cupping the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw.

when he finally pulled back, his lips lingered close, breath fanning across your cheek.

his hand stayed at your waist, firm. steady. possessive in a way that didn’t scare you- just anchored.

“you kiss like you mean it,” he said, voice low, rough with something real.

your heart slammed once, hard.

“i do,” you said.

and this time, neither of you smiled. you didn’t have to. you both knew exactly where this was going.

[angelsixxdoll]

I WANT THEIR HAIR . ESPECIALLY NIKKIS

[mooniamsblog]

What video games do you think the puppy pack would play?

Like I think Corey would be an avid Sims player but not in a peaceful way, in the way all Sims players play - death in the pool and a man dungeon in the basement.

Liam and Mason play cod (I think that canon or at least canon adjacent) but I think Mason would love GTA and planning all the heists and Liam just joins later after everything's set up. In the meantime Liam is playing hello kitty island adventure or world of warcraft.

Theo obviously knows nothing about video games given the grew up in the sewers thing but he would be infuriatingly good at Mario kart (Liam refuses to talk to him after his 6th loss in a row)

Hayden is the best stardew valley player in the pack and has married all of the bacholors in the game at least once in her save file she also plays halo avidly.