#but that would be a year long project or more ^^; so I don’t know if there’s enough interest for that oop

[aklaustaleteller]

Might Fancy You

Y/n went from fearing Klaus, to studying in his studio, to then throwing Shakespeare insults at him while chasing after him to put paint on him; he'd started it. But what happens when she ignores his one warning and he has her cornered in a flash?

Warnings - few mentions of blood and some kissing.

Word Count - 1.8k

I told you I'll have part two out in two days and here it is! You can read part one here, and well, I hope you enjoy both the parts!

“And you are?” Elijah asked the girl standing in the doorway of the mansion, clutching onto so many things that he worried all of it was going to fall out of her trembling hands any time now. 

“Um, I’m here to meet Klaus?” She said, an awkward smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “He’s helping me with an art project,” she continued when the original didn’t say anything.

But he did raise an eyebrow at that, making her even more nervous and bunch up her shoulders in a defensive shrug. “You know what? I’ll just leave,” her voice made a few tumbles as she turned around and began walking out the door she’d just come in. Her guard was high up because she had no reason to believe that this vampire wasn’t going to drain her of blood then and there for stepping onto his property without any permission. 

“Y/n!” She heard a voice call out and she flinched, her heart trying to make up for the missed beat and speeding up as a result. 

“Y- yes?” She stuttered, slowly turning to face him, fearing what’s to come. How stupid had she been to ask a goddamn original to help her out with some- some school work! 

“What did you say to her, Elijah?” Klaus glared at his brother on seeing his new friend so shaken up.

Elijah only turned towards him in a slight confused daze. “I simply asked her who she was,” he said, walking away from the scene to probably his reading chair, leaving as nonchalantly as he could’ve killed her. 

A smile creeped up on Klaus’ mouth, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest at how easily she’d been frightened. It was almost bordering on endearing. 

“C’mon love, follow me,” he urged her as he walked up the stairs, coming to halt when he didn’t hear her move. “Y/n?” he called her, looking back at her from midway up the stairs. and coming to a realisation that she might genuinely be scared of him. 

“I think I’ll go,” she said, looking very close to passing out. “Forget I asked you for anything.” She didn’t even look him in the eyes and turned back around to leave and get away from this mansion as fast as she could.

But of course, Klaus stood in front of her just as she turned, almost sending her heart flying out of her mouth. It was strange, to witness this completely new side of the girl who ferociously bit right back at him the most creative insults he’d ever heard in his long life.

“Why are you so suddenly terrified of me?” Klaus asked, his face creasing in confusion as his eyes showed her specks of hurt that could very well just be the mossy-green of his eyes deceiving her. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know maybe the sense that you’re an original who could rip me to shreds or drain me of all my blood right here,” she stopped herself like she’d done something insanely stupid and – ”finally knocked at my brain,” she trailed off very softly, almost as if cautious of making him angry.

“Y/n- love, you know I’d never do that,” he mumbled, cupping her face and almost flinching when she went stiff. “I mean I could do that but I never would!” he reframed his sentence when she narrowed her eyes, for some reason, desperate that she understood him.  

“What do I have to believe you wouldn’t?” 

“Because I do not have any reason to,” Klaus reassured her, not saying that maybe because he fancied her a little, just because this wasn’t the ideal moment for a confession like that. 

Y/n didn’t say anything at that. Standing still and looking into his eyes, searching his face for any signs of underlying betrayal but she didn’t find any – not that she expected to, he is a thousand years old after all, surely he’d know how to disguise his motives.

And yet, when Klaus grasped her arm and led her up the stairs, she let him. 

“I see you brought all of your stuff,” Klaus chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood as he took a million things out of her hold, placing it all on the rug and smiling when he saw her setting up the canvas for him. He could get used to this very easily. 

“I did, it’s my work you are doing after all,” she said softly, slowly coming out of her shell. “I didn’t want you to waste your supplies on it,” she continued. 

“I wouldn’t say this is wasting anything,” Klaus proposed, thinking that maybe this would be the topic for their discussion today, slight banter even? 

“I wouldn’t either,” she agreed with him, catching him a little off guard. “But the school people will tear this apart and throw it in the trash before I could ever get to it.”

Klaus shook his head at that, preparing the paints and the brushes. “And why would you want to get to it?”

Y/n had managed to make herself comfortable on the floor a couple feet away from him, her papers already scattered on the floor of his studio,  and Klaus only hoped that they could do this more often after this day.

“Well, I wouldn’t want it go to waste… you see? Maybe hang it somewhere in my house when it’s purpose in school is served,” she shrugged nonchalantly, taking the cap off of a pen by her mouth and Klaus wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and cup her face to kiss her. 

Which reminded him that she was quite fastly transitioning back to her usual self around him. He smiled at that, the scary thrill in his heart that had come at the thought of her fearing him slowly fading away. 

Neither of them said anything after that, getting to their individual works in silence. The soft sounds of Klaus’ brush against the canvas, mixing colours on his palette and rinsing the brush rid of the previous colours filled the room along with sounds of Y/n flipping her book, turning the pages in notebooks and changing pens. 

The sun peeked in through the windows, the lighting constantly changing as the clouds drifted calmly through the sky. 

While painting, Klaus began to worry about this girl who was so engrossed in her homework that she hadn’t moved once. He worried that she’d gotten so serious and quaint that she might just tumble into sadness. All that to say, he missed her laugh a little as well.

He tuned to just look at her while he was sure that she was unaware. Her hair was tied up, circular glasses that had a coppery rim slipping lower and lower on the bridge of her nose until she had to fix them. She looked cute, Klaus caught himself thinking.

Her lips were resting in a faint pout as she focused, her fingers picking at them while she jottled down something in her notebook with her free hand. His hand ached to trace its fingers over the highs and the lows of her face. The little frown that had formed inbetween her eyebrows made her look all the more cute and Klaus found himself walking over to her, his feet functioning on a mind of their own. 

He bent down to come face-to-face with her as she was sitting, and he almost cooed at the fact that she still hadn't quite registered the close proximity at which he was in front of her. Raising up his hand, he booped her nose – getting the very reaction he was hoping for.

She looked up at that, slightly startled, only to catch Klaus’ eyes widening a little themselves. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh, because there was something…” he panicked, his eyes frozen on the spot he had gotten yellow paint on her nose. “I removed it though, don’t you fret,” he smiled, brushing over his pants as he began to stand up straight. 

But she passed him a glare then, clutching the bottom of his henley to stop him. “Klaus,” she began. “Did you remove something or put something there?”

He shrugged at that, focusing back on the canvas and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her getting up. 

“Klaus.” She said his name with an underlying warning. She brushed her own finger over the very spot he had touched, and saw the paint.

“Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once a while, but you really abuse the privilege,” she was walking closer to him and Klaus knew exactly what was about to commence, making him cover his head with his arms when she pressed her hand against the paint on the palette. 

He howled with laughter when she dragged her hands across his neck, twisting and turning to get away from her. Still laughing at the insult she threw at him because it was a bloody good one, Klaus swiped his finger across her collarbone, earning a whine from her as she began chasing him around the studio. 

Stopping to catch her breath, she began shouting at him – “thou crusty batch of nature!” But laughter slipped past both of their mouths before they could even contemplate what she’d just said. 

“No way you just threw a Shakespearree insult at me,” Klaus laughed, standing on the complete other side of the room, opposite to her.

He feigned a growl when she began walking towards him, red paint almost drying on her palms. “Take another step, and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Klaus whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

And she ignored his warning, just like he was hoping she would. Watching her creep up closer and closer to him, Klaus felt a smirk pull up a corner of his lips. 

In a flash, Klaus had her pinned against a wall, her wrists held above her head in his hands. His face tilted to the side lightly, his eyes focused on her mouth as he felt her gaze on him heating up her skin. She tipped her chin forward, her lips not quite meeting his’, making him close the gap between them and connect their lips. 

Lips moving in a perfect sync, Klaus brought one of his hands down to snake it around her waist, her mouth opening with a gasp at the sensation and giving him the chance to kiss her further. The back of her head met with the wall behind her as they kissed with a passion that felt too heated. 

Detaching their mouths, both of them took in heaves of breath, Klaus pecking her lips once more before releasing her wrists. She was looking into his eyes, searching them for something and Klaus couldn’t help but smile at her, her lips very lightly swollen, looking like they’d just been kissed. 

“Think I might fancy you a tad,” he grinned, laughing out loud when she grabbed his face to kiss him again, making him lose his balance only for a second before he was cupping her face ever so gently.

"Never realised I wanted to hear you say it so much,” she let slip a breathy chuckle, looking into his eyes before kissing his lips once more. Lord, it was addictive – he was addictive. 

#klaus mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikealson fanfiction #niklaus imagines #the vampire diaries #klaus michaelson #klaus m #klaus mikaelson x y/n #the vampire diares imagine #kol mikaelson #tvd klaus #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #tvd universe #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson yandere #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader #dom!klaus #sub!klaus #tvdu fanfiction #tvd fluff #tvdu fluff

[connorsnothereeither]

So like, a while ago I did a little update on the Brink fics, and I figured it was worth giving a kinda sad update on my other Fable fics as well.

At this stage, there are no plans to continue or finish Your Skin Beneath My Teeth (the second book in the Blood series).

I know this is probably disappointing, because I know a lot of people really loved the Vampire AU. But from a personal writing level, I’m just sort of unhappy with the direction of the books, and I don’t have the time to commit to rewriting them. I’m not invested enough in my own story, and while that’s a shame, I don’t know if there’s much I can do without just giving myself time to stew on it.

There’s also a logistical side to things as well. Fable is coming to an end in less than a month. I feel like it’ll probably take me months to finish the Brink series still first, which are the fics I’m personally more passionate about. And at a certain point, I don’t want Fable to be the only thing that consumes my writing for the next year+. Not to mention the time I want to dedicate to other SMPs and creative projects I’m involved in, like Cantripped, Bound SMP, and Terramortis, with even more stuff in the works.

On top of all that like… I’m just a guy, ya know. I’m a full time student, work part-time most days of the week, commute between 2 major cities regularly, and I have other things that just deserve my time more.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in fandoms for years, I know it’s shitty when fics you enjoy never get an ending. But I hope that like, people get where I’m coming from with discontinuing it, I guess.

Besides, there is, technically, an ending for Blood. I’ve had the ending written since the end of the first book (it’s just getting there that’s the problem) and so if people would like, as some sort of closure for the story, I would be happy to release that here on Tumblr or on my Kofi or something. Maybe I’ll make a follow up post with a poll.

I might as well mention that there is likewise no plan to “finish” the Band AU, but since that was always a collection of one-shots, there was never really a plan or end for any of it. It was always kinda disjointed without an end in sight lol.

I’m not saying that I’m NEVER going to go back to these fics. Just that it’s unlikely. But who knows, maybe someday I’ll crawl out of the dirt to finish them-

If you did only follow my Fable fics for the Blood books though, I’m sure some elements of my other fan works might appeal to you, if you want to give them a go! The horror/contemplations of humanity are the key theme of Brink, and the mystery/thriller, high stakes political conflict mixed with interpersonal melodrama is the focus of Cascading Skies, my new Bound fic. And of course those and so many more things are just key elements to like all of my storytelling my canon characters lol. But if none of that ticks your boxes, it was great to have y’all along for the bloody vampire ride :D

Anyway this was me getting sappy about setting aside a project I worked really hard on lol. Sometimes you gotta do that and sometimes that’s okay, and that’s an attitude I struggle with but am getting better at. I know don’t owe y’all any kind of explanation for this, I could have just stopped and let it die, but I wanted to give one. More for me personally really; I needed to say something about it publicly to like… fully cement in my mind what I decided on a long time ago. Anyway, catch y’all later when I’m not incredibly tired, and hopefully with a more silly goofy post ✌️

#fable smp #fablesmp #fanfic

[mrs-snape5984]

„You’re not alone, together we stand. I’ll be by your side, you know, I’ll take your hand…”

“Just stay strong, ‘cause you know, I’m here for you…” (“Keep holding on” by Avril Lavigne)

I decided to set a trigger warning on this post: Miscarriages, high risk pregnancies, ICSI treatments, traumatic wish for a child journey, hysterectomy. So, please feel free to skip the following x paragraphs, if you feel triggered by these topics. Thank you.

Those of you lovely people of Snapedom, who know me and my way of blogging about Severus and my personal hardships might have noticed, that I’m mostly venting about ME/CFS and the crumbs, which are left from my former life. Since I can’t do much about it right now, I decided to “fix” another one of my countless issues…an internal wound, which desperately needs to heal!

As some of you might remember, I’m a mother of three wonderful children. There are my eleven years old twins and then there’s my six years old daughter. My pregnancies were the result of a long and painful journey of ICSI treatments, several miscarriages, way too many tears, about ten surgeries - due to Endometriosis and myomas - which eventually ended in a hysterectomy four years ago.

My desperate wish for a child led me to some decisions and life choices, which I probably wouldn’t have made, if I would have been clearer…maybe more stable in my whole mindset. One of these choices was a totally over rushed marriage to a narcissistic man, who made me believe, that he wanted the same. Gosh…I’ve been so desperate and so fucking stupid! Well, at least I got my twins because of him.

I went to the appointment for the transfer of the embryos on my own. He didn’t want to join the procedure…and I should have known, that he was already saying “goodbye” back then.

The pregnancy was rough. I had to lie in bed from the 8th week of pregnancy until they were born as premature babies in the 29th week of pregnancy. The last 4,5 months of pregnancy, I had to stay in the hospital…fighting for my babies’ lives all on my own. The father of them had decided, that he didn’t want to be a father anymore…wow…

I don’t want to go further into details about this phase of my life…at least not yet. I commissioned my friend @alinearthp for this project and asked her for several drawings of the different phases of my journey to become a mother. This artwork will be the start of my healing process…and I’m incredibly grateful, that you’re doing this for me, Aline! I know, that you’ll need time to draw all these wishes of mine, but I’ll be patiently waiting for each of your breathtaking pieces of art, my dear!

So, for the next couple of months, Severus will accompany me on my path through this phase of my past…just like he did back then, when I spent months in a hospital bed in “Trendelenburg” position. During this period of my life - and to be honest, in so many other phases of the past 21 years, as well - I clung to my imagination of Severus in order to feel less helpless and alone. His resilience and determination have always been my inspiration to keep going through all these hardships, which life kept throwing at me. He’s the love of my life…and he will forever be the guiding light in my darkness.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

#Severus x Julia #Sevy x Jules #Severus x oc #twin mom #icsi #this will be my personal healing journey #mom of 3 #fuck me/cfs #disappointment #I have to heal #horrible pregnancies #severus snape #he was there #at least in my mind #i love snape #snape #i love severus #pro snape #snape love #pro severus snape #snape content #severus snape art #snart #snapedom #severus fanart #severus snape fan art #snape art #mecfs #single mom experiences #commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: implied gambling addiction, weapons, implied violence

AO3 link: Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark (2275 words) by She_posts_nerdy_stuff

Chapter One - Jesper

Jesper was late. Again.

He ran out the door of the Slat, jacket half-pulled over his creased shirt and the second sleeve obstinately hiding from him as he rushed into the street. The staves were quiet enough at this time for his hurry to be noticeable, but he didn't have time to care about the strangers glancing at him. He glanced at his watch as he ran, almost tripping over the cobbles. Nine bells. What time had he fallen asleep? He didn’t remember getting back to the Slat, but judging by the exhaustion clinging to his bones it couldn’t have been all that long ago. Dammit, Jesper. He knew he shouldn’t have gone out last night; he knew it would only end up with him being late this morning. But here he was, once again, trying desperately to pass as someone with reasonable respectability as he flew into the university district.

He was more than out of breath by the time he reached the dean’s office, trying to straighten his jacket and smooth his hands over his shirt. It was a deeply boring outfit; a once-white button down and a brown jacket, but Jesper had to forgo his usual Barrel flash on the occasional visits he bothered to make to the university. That didn’t mean he didn’t add his own little flares, of course, but he’d been in too much of a rush this morning to concern himself with that.

“I should have a meeting scheduled,” he said, “Jesper Fahey?”

The receptionist looked him up and down disapprovingly, then opened the almost comically oversized diary sitting on her desk.

“You’re late,”

You don’t think I know that?

“Sorry,”

“He had to start the meeting after yours. Should be another five minutes, but then he has a space open. You can wait over there,”

“Thanks,” 

She made a non-committal ‘mm’ sound, turning back to her other papers. 

Jesper sat opposite the receptionist’s desk, fidgeting, eyes on the door. Why had the dean called him to this meeting? The note had been frustratingly vague, and he’d only seen it because he was coincidentally back at his term-address to collect some fresh clothes when it arrived. There were three more on the table that he’d already missed, so he decided he’d better make it to this one. Maybe they were kicking him out - he wouldn’t be surprised. At least then the decision would be made for him. But if he was expelled, would they somehow inform his father? Jesper shuffled unhappily in his uncomfortable chair.

Another minute passed before the door clicked open and two people emerged through it - the dean, a tall Kerch man in his late forties trying to hide the fact that he was clearly going bald, holding the door for a boy Jesper recognised from one of his classes. A mercher kid, someone had told him on their first day, as they watched the boy walk in and take a seat, something Van Eck. Had some sorta accident when he was a kid, been blind ever since. He looked much younger than Jesper, though he knew they must be about the same age, with soft features and angelic, ruddy curls floating around his head like gravity had taken a liking to him and given them a free pass. Jesper had to admit, he found the kid intriguing. Even in the lessons he’d shown up to, he had several times caught himself studying the boy from across the room and had to force himself to look away. Even if whatever-his-name-was didn’t know he was staring, it still felt rude.

“Thank you, sir,” he was saying to the dean as he slipped through the door, slender cane tapping the ground in front of him.

It was almost rhythmic, like a beat that was waiting for someone to add a melody. The dean had noticed Jesper, he could tell, but waited until the Van Eck kid had left the room before he said:

“Mr Fahey. You came,”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, and then when a brief pause added: “And that I missed the previous meetings you scheduled. I, er, had a problem receiving mail,”

“I see,” he said, a little coolly, eyes flicking over Jesper, “Well, come in,”

Jesper sat in front of the desk, drumming his fingers in his chair, waiting to be told that he was expelled. But the dean just droned on and on, without the final hit ever seeming to come.

“The only class you’ve attended in the last month is Economic Principles for Business and Markets - and even for that you’ve only attended three lessons,” he was saying, when Jesper suddenly remembered he was supposed to be listening and quickly tuned in, “Perhaps we could change your course load to classes more similar to this one, see if that helps motivate you. Do you enjoy Economics?”

Jesper did not. He shrugged.

“Not particularly,”

“Then may I ask why it’s the only class you’ve consistently attended? - even if you do have twelve late marks in it across the year,”

It hadn’t really been a conscious decision. It was an afternoon class, twice a week, easy to get to at least one of them if he got himself together enough - late enough that he’d probably be awake, early enough that he probably wasn’t on a job or in a gambling den. 

“I have a partner project in that class,” he said, truthfully, “I don’t want to let anyone down,”

“Perhaps you should consider not letting yourself down, Mr Fahey,”

Saints, he didn’t hold anything back did he? Jesper shuffled.

“Who’s your partner for this project?”

“Helena Dentte,”

The dean nodded.

“I’m going to switch who you’re working with,”

Jesper wasn’t sure what good that was supposed to do, but he didn’t argue. Helena was nice enough, but she was infuriatingly motivated and it drove him slightly mad when she suggested they meet to study after almost every class - and she probably hated his guts for the curse he was to be partnered with.

“What about the rest of your course?” he glanced through the papers on his desk, “You haven’t attended Comparative Literature - Kerch and Zemeni Poetry since going once last month, your other classes longer,”

Jesper just shrugged again. He was sinking slowly but surely deeper into his chair.

“Not for me,”

“We should look at changing your classes around then. Stick with the business class, whatever’s keeping you there I want to preserve it. But think about what else you’d like to study. If not economics or literature, Mr Fahey, what are you interested in?”

Unwelcome answers offered themselves up in Jesper’s head. He shuffled.

“I don’t know,”

The dean wasn’t particularly impressed. He told Jesper to come back in a week, with at least an idea of what else he might like to study. Sure, Jesper thought, that’s gonna happen.

“I’m very glad you came to this meeting, Mr Fahey. It’s the first step in making a change, and I am only here to help you,”

Jesper mumbled something of a thanks by way of reply as he slipped out the door and slouched away down the corridor.

“Jesper,”

A girl melted from the shadows and appeared at his shoulder, making Jesper jump out of his skin. His hand flinched reflexively towards the revolver hidden in his jacket, but got no further because it only took half a second to see who was talking to him.

“Saints - Inej, you scared the life out of me,”

Inej said nothing for a moment. They walked down the corridor together, would have been shoulder to shoulder if it weren’t for the fact that Inej’s head only just reached Jesper’s shoulder. He’d known Inej Ghafa only a short while, since she’d joined the Dregs a few months ago, but he already doubted he was ever going to get used to the way she appeared and disappeared so quickly, so completely. Never mind any other spiders crawling around in the Barrel, Jesper hadn’t met anyone who could do what Inej could do - to simply erase herself like that, to only be seen when she wanted you to notice her. She was also probably the toughest person he knew - except maybe Kaz, though honestly he might be more scared of getting on Inej’s bad side. Then again, if this was Kaz’s good side maybe he shouldn’t push his luck.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, as they turned the corner.

“Take a wild guess,”

She watched him for a brief moment.

“You’re a student?”

She sounded surprised. That was probably fair.

“Supposed to be. Anyway, I might ask you the same question,”

“Kaz is angry,”

“Kaz is always angry,”

“Kaz is angry with you,”

Jesper shrugged.

“That’s hardly news, Inej. He send you here to get his money? I’ll have it by tomorrow,”

“We both know that’s not true, Jes. And he didn’t send me,” said Inej, frowning, “I came to talk to you, to say you should steer clear of him for a couple of days,”

Really? That bad? Jesper frowned. What had he done to piss off Kaz Brekker this time? 

Inej was studying him, her dark eyes roving slowly over him, her frown remaining intact. She wasn’t exactly what Jesper had expected when Kaz told him a girl from the Menagerie was going to be moving into the Slat, but he wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting. A broken wisp of a girl, he supposed. Inej wasn’t broken, though she’d clearly taken damage, and she could hardly be described as a wisp. Jesper had seen her fight more than enough times to trust that. 

Inej also had a particular skill for the disapproving look she could get to glitter in her eyes on command - or maybe Jesper just brought it out in her. She touched two fingers to one of the knives slung through her belt, murmuring something in Suli.

“Should you really be carrying those in here?” he asked.

Jesper wasn’t actually sure how many knives Inej had, but there must have been at least five on her person at any given moment. She shrugged.

“You have a revolver in your coat,”

“Yeah, in my coat,” he shook his head, “Not on show,”

Inej shrugged.

“Maybe I’m an arts student,”

“Why would an arts student be carrying a thousand knives?”

“Art, obviously,”

Jesper snorted.

“Obviously,”

They were almost outside.

“Just, you know, don’t get arrested,”

Inej smiled.

“I think you’re giving the stadwatch a little too much credit there,” her voice suddenly moved to Jesper’s other shoulder and he turned to try and see her, “Who could possibly arrest a Wraith?”

She was gone. It was broad daylight in a wide courtyard, and Inej Ghafa was gone. Jesper shook his head. Unbelievable. 

*

Jesper didn’t know exactly what he’d done to get on Kaz Brekker’s final nerve, but he wasn’t about to go and find out. He sifted through the piles of stuff stacked unhappily in his university dorm, trying to make enough space for the room to actually be liveable. When had he last slept on campus? Not recently. Maybe it was a good thing Kaz was mad at him, if it was going to keep him out of the Barrel for a few days. Maybe he could even look through the course catalogue, to keep the dean happy, and find out whoever else he was going to partner him up with for Business and Markets. Helena would probably be glad of the change. She could take her thousand and one notebooks to someone who might actually be able to contribute something. 

But why lie? Jesper was itching for a hand of cards. He lay on his back on top of the mattress, studying the ceiling and twisting one of his rings round and round his finger. Unless he snapped and ended up running into a den and just facing Kaz’s wrath, the rings he’d slept in last night were apparently the only flash he was going to enjoy for the next few days. What other clothes did he even have here? He didn’t remember seeing much else in the wardrobe when he came to grab these the other day. He should probably check. He’d do it in a minute.

The next thing Jesper remembered was waking up, jolting upright and almost whacking into the headboard. Damn, he really must have been exhausted. How long had he slept for? He was momentarily disorientated, fumbling for his watch and discovering that it was nearing twelve bells. The curtains were still open and the midday sun streamed through them, highlighting the dust floating through the air. Jepser sighed - just his luck, the single sunny day of the year Ketterdam would bother to grace them all with, and he had slept through most of the morning. He’d needed it though. 

Almost twelve bells. He could make it to his one o’clock class - what was it? Poetry, or something - if he got himself together. Or he could just lie here a little longer, watching the world go by outside his window. 

No. No, if he was here then he should go. He should at least try. 

It was his poetry class today - he checked the timetable shoved in the desk drawer - and it proved to be just as irredeemably boring as he remembered it. But he went. He took a notebook and the fountain pen his Da had given him when he got into university. He didn’t make any notes, but he took them with him. It was something. Sort of. 

He counted it, even if only to make himself feel slightly better.

#let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in the future <3 #don't go blindly into the dark #no beta read #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #wesper #wylan hendriks #matthias helvar #wesper fanfiction #wesper fic

[mossflower]

loki season two has me screaming crying throwing up trying not to get dragged back into the mcu trenches

#i am stronger than this. i am better than this!! #by the trenches i mean consuming fanfiction at an unhealthy rate. fourteen year old me was insane i think i was on ao3 more than i slept #that’s not exaggeration. i was getting four hours of sleep on school nights and frequently went to bed at 5am on weekends #it is ONE good story. one. literally not worth it. i don’t even care about ninety percent of the mcu characters #i will ignore the little voice in my head reminding of the sheer amount of fanfiction. this was my pre-tumblr days #so my fandom interaction was like. youtube and ao3. maybe instagram posts sometimes. it was so much fun like. zero drama zero discourse #i was honestly living my best life. got less interested when i joined tumblr and went full doctor who mode #and after endgame i watched i think wandavision and loki and that was it. just didnt care anymore lol #i know exactly why this is happening tho. currently the thing i am insane about is my own damn project. which i am in the process of writin #for obvious reasons no fandom there. bc it lives in my mind twenty four fucking seven #i do wonder if i’m kind of growing away from fandom anyway? the closest i’ve got since toh ended was homestuck tbh #i want to feel obsessed with something again!! everything i’m into now - tma tlt and the like - i love them #but it doesnt hit like it used to. i don’t know it’s hard to explain #like video essays that i would have loved a few years ago!! the hour long ones about representation and queer media #they just irritate me now! i got halfway through one last week and had to bail i just could not care less #how did 2020 social media have me convinced that x character being gay was super important politically economically socially etc #ofc the answer is that i was a baby lesbian getting even less social interaction than normal #like representation is important obviously but also. sometimes it was not that deep #i don’t know if i’m making sense tbh but you get my drift #morganposting

[pepprs]

also the favoritism thing is still making me so fucking mad and insane btw. im not jealous / resentful of my brother bc he deserves her love and is also burdened in his own ways by it and bc i think my drama w my mom has shaped my life in profound ways and given me friends i cherish and i would never trade any of that for the world but jesus fucking christ. why do i have to beg you to interact with me like a mother. why do i have to talk to me at all beyond asking me to do you 847439473 favors a day. why do i have to beg you to take an interest in my life and apologize when you hurt me and be nurturing and perceptive for once in your fucking life. like it hurts to hear her asking him about his classes and whatever bc she didn’t think i was stressed out w school but i had to talk to a ****** hotline last decemver when i couldn’t take it anymore and my mental health was crashing and burning and it doesn’t even fucking matter to her at all and she’s going to get him the nice gifts and throw him the nice parties and whatever because she hates me and my sister for… and let me get this straight… being complicated and anxious and depressed and also girls. lol!

#purrs #delete later #sorry i knowive been insane about momposting but this shit has me screeching like an ape. the way when my brother was born she decided me #and my sister would be okay with each other bc we were twins and meanwhile she was leaving my sister to have anxiety attacks and me to take #care of her and all of this happening at like 7 years old and she would come into my brothers room every single night and kiss him goodnight #and talk to him for a long time and she wouldn’t even come in and say goodnight to us. LOL. ok. like our room being a depression nest is not #an excuse. us not helping out much in the kitchen or around the house (which is bad but also we have reasons for it that i think are valid #and i only do it here and not elsewhere btw.) is not a good excuse. you can’t decide you love your one kid more because he helps out and #keeps his room clean and whatever. maybe he is normal because you made it very clear from the time that he was born that he was your top #priority and you gave him your attention and didn’t take it away meanwhile my sister and i have always had to share bc we’re twins and she #cast us aside when he was born and has fucking tormented both of us for years over who we like what we want where we go all of that shit and #then has the AUDACITY to call herself a good mother. being a good mother is more than feeding your kid and projecting your childhood trauma #onto them by preventing them from ever developing cancer to the point where they’re afraid fo like. go outside. you have to be patient and #nurturing and kind and like.. motherly. ans i know no one can be a perfect mother and she has been hurt so badly and she is dealing with a l #lot right now but COME ON. for gods SAKE. i am right fucking here. why don’t you care about me? why do you make it clearer every day? #ask to tag #like the way she would say when my sister and i were growing up and going through it that she wished she could book a hotel and live there f #far away from us and miss out on us growing up so she wouldn’t have to deal with us being anxious and hormonal because we were teenage girls #LOL. totally did not impact me at all. totally is not a wound that informs every breath i take and every thought i have. not at all #* like maybe he is normal because you uh… idk. just a guess here. actually gave him the motherlove people need to be functioning healthy #human beings? idk. just a silly thought. haha

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

#ip

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

#and now for something silly #as if i don’t always write something silly for steddie #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆status: on-going (next update: May 10th, 2024)

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆total word count: 182.2k (lmao my fingers slipped)

☆a/n: I got the idea for this fic just a little over a year ago, following a power outage that lasted for a few days where I live and Jungkook's live where he kept coming back with different outfits (the white dress shirt hit me right in the gut). It took me a long time to write, as I was working on multiple other projects at the same time, but I am so so happy to be ready to share this baby with you guys <3

☆Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing this monster <3 (and for all your encouragement and support)

☆And a special thank you to @wintaerbaer and @btsborahaee for encouraging me and supporting me whenever I screamed to you about this fic

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser (Jungkook pov): the day he met you (1.1k)

You fucking touch her, you're dead.

➳Chapter one: when the Incident happens (11.8k)

Jungkook is Tae's best friend.

➳Chapter two: when Jungkook teases you (10.2k)

You know I hate that nickname.

➳Chapter three: when Valentine's Day happens (13.1k)

You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.

➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (9.5k)

I was just going to say that we should keep this between us.

➳Chapter five: when you have to go back to reality (12.1k)

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

➳Chapter six: when Jungkook hosts his friends over (9.6k)

I really want to kiss you right now.

➳Chapter seven: when doubt makes you question everything (15k)

Why do you want to believe the worst of me so bad?

➳Chapter eight: when secrets are unveiled in New York (13.5k)

I want you.

➳Chapter nine: when a party makes Jungkook jealous (11.2k)

You make me insane.

➳Chapter ten: when time slips through your fingers (10.1k)

I don’t want to lose you, peach.

➳Chapter eleven: when Jungkook visits Taehyung in Paris (8.4k)

Can’t wait for you to be back.

➳Chapter twelve: when it breaks (7.3k)

I can’t be with you.

➳Chapter thirteen: when it's too late (8.9k)

I have to talk to him.

➳Chapter fourteen: when the truth comes out (12.2k)

We never told each other how we felt.

➳Chapter fifteen: when you find your way back to Jungkook (7.4k)

You came?

➳Chapter sixteen: when Jungkook takes you out on a date (8.5k)

I think I was waiting for you my whole life.

➳Chapter seventeen: when forever awaits you (9k)

Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.

Drabbles in Jungkook's pov (might add more as the story goes on)

➳Drabble 1: the engagement party (453)

Have fun while it lasts.

➳Drabble 2: after a call in Paris (596)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

➳Drabble 3: a conversation with his mother (644)

Nothing strengthens a man more than heartbreak.

➳Drabble 4: a conversation with Taehyung (1.1k)

It’s never been like that with her.

☆☆☆☆☆

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

#chasing cars masterpost #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #chasing cars #chasing cars series

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 

-

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 

A hot cowboy saved your life. 

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 

You needed your furniture, after all. 

It will be okay, you tell yourself. 

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 

“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 

He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

-

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel x reader

[boydepartment]

three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear

warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)

wc- honestly over 750

MASTERLIST

“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.

“did you-“

“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.

“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.

so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.

“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.

“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.

“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”

you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.

“your hands are freezing y/n!”

riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.

“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.

nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.

riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.

“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.

“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.

oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell

to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.

riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-

“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?

discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.

strike three

“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”

your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.

“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.

“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.

“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.

“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”

it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.

“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.

you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”

“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.

your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”

“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.

“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.

“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.

riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”

you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.

you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”

riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.

“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.

discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run

#nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki #nishimura riki scenarios #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki fluff #jealous nishimura riki #enha #enhypen #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #enhypen comfort #enha comfort #heeseung imagines #jungwon imagines #jake sim imagines #jay park imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunoo imagines #lee heeseung x reader #jay park x reader #jake sim x reader

[saerins]

─── 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 7.1k | content: fluff, making out, college!au, mentions of insecurity, only very brief angst !!, alcohol, slight jealousy

notes: this was supposed to be lengthier and in smau format but i suck at that so here it is in fic format :’) i know i know, i write sae way too much </3

summary: you have a crush on sae. for a long time now. and he’s always known that. he just wants to see how long you can hold out.

HIGH SCHOOL: 2ND YEAR

itoshi sae knows you like him.

you’re really obvious it’s pathetic, really. once during recess, he’d wanted to go back to the classroom to get some shut eye because soccer was way too draining lately, and guess who he saw slipping a little love note into his locker?

of course you. you and your little pink heart-shaped post-it that read i think you’re cute and i really really like you. because it was valentines and you were one of the many to send him little scribbles of confessions.

even now, when you sit just a couple of rows in front of him, he catches you looking behind at him, and sae purposely doesn’t look at you, doesn’t let you know he knows you’re staring. he’s not really sure why. maybe he feels bad if he exposes you or something.

throughout the rest of your sophomore year in high school, he continues to observe as you so subtly (not really) try to be friends with him. you always try to get picked to be in the same group as him for projects (which never works out), you try to sit next to him in lecture halls (but his friends cockblock you always), and during phys ed classes you try so hard with soccer but you’re really quite bad at it.

maybe it’s sae not being able to continue observing your failures that he throws you a bone.

“you need to bend your knees a little more.”

frozen stiff from the unexpected company, you awkwardly try to bend your knees further, all while staring at the ground. if sae was nice, he’d laugh and joke around with you, asking why you seemed so scared of him. but he’s not, so he only sighs and stands beside you while you try.

after a few more seconds, sae understands you don’t really understand so he moves to push down on your thigh, and by then you really freeze up, falling flat on your ass in front of him.

sae wants to laugh now, really, because it’s amusing how nervous you are. for no good reason too.

the next time sae talks to you, it’s during lunch time when he queues up behind you. on purpose. he doesn’t even usually eat from this stall, but seeing you there makes him want to mess with you a little. he purposely stands a little too close, makes himself prone to an accidental bump.

which does happen. because you’re just like that.

“oh, sor—” you stop midway as if realising it’s sae immediately dissolves you of any obliged apologies. “sorry,” you force out before whipping your attention back in front. the both of you don’t talk in that moment and sae can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

but sae continues to help you during phys ed classes, and you still try to get assigned to be his group mate. nothing groundbreaking happens during sophomore year of high school because nothing is born out of it.

nothing, except maybe a tiny bit of sae’s inexplicable emotions for you.

HIGH SCHOOL: SENIOR YEAR

sae thinks maybe you went to a shrine over the holidays. how else would he explain you finally getting partnered with him on a project? and to top it off, it’s a two-person team for the entire year.

you get him all to yourself.

the moment the teacher calls your name after his, it’s like sae can practically see your tail wagging. you manage to compose yourself when you catch him staring at you though.

it’s a little cute, if he’s being honest.

“so, what do you think our project should be about?” your voice wavers a little when you speak to him. is he that intimidating?

sae wonders what if he tries to be a dick during this project. would you be obedient or would you actually bite back?

he tries to find out.

sae shrugs and acts disinterested, staring out the window of the second floor of the library where you’d both agreed to meet to work on it together. “don’t know, don’t care, think you could handle it for us? i’ve got too many soccer trainings, too tired.”

for a split second, you’re taken aback—he sees you sitting upright a little more, blinking twice at him because surely that’s not what you imagined your crush to behave like. not when he has straight As and is almost the top of your cohort.

and for a while, sae thinks you might actually be the former; obediently listening to him, making sure he’s happy. but then you furrow your brows and clench your fists and go “itoshi sae, who do you think you are” and oh, oh, you’re not the former, you’re the latter and you’d actually kill him if he was a dick. fuck.

somehow his hands instinctively come up in surrender and his mouth opens, “i was just kidding.”

it’s almost comical how your expression softens up immediately and you laugh, and sae keeps staring at you because you actually have a really nice smile. he never really noticed it before. and when the two of you actually get started on the project, sae finds himself observing you more than actually contributing.

yeah, you’re really quite pretty.

“any plans for the summer?”

it’s now almost july and summer break is around the corner, and to be honest sae’s kind of bummed about it. it’s beyond him why not seeing you would make him disappointed, but he’s not going to try and pursue the reason. he has his training camps to worry about.

“soccer. you?”

“mmm, a short trip with my parents.”

usually sae would leave it at that, but he asks about you, and he sees that tail wagging again. “where?”

“just gonna go to hokkaido,” you tell him. and you look like you’re anticipating him to ask more, but sae’s stuck. he doesn’t really know what to ask. he’s not exactly curious as to what you’d be doing there.

so you take matters into your own hand when you swiftly grab his phone from the table, key in your number and call yourself from his phone before putting it right back. sae watches you the whole time, wondering when exactly you’d gotten this bold.

“there, now you can’t escape me even over summer break.”

and he doesn’t. because you text him about your trip when you’re there, you send him pictures of the scenery and of the food you’re eating and you’re really inconsiderate because you send him that shit when he’s stuck in soccer bootcamp with twenty-four sweaty guys who’s none the better than him.

sae can end it by all means, just by not responding to you, but for the first time, talking to someone isn’t really a pain, and he thinks you’re kind of funny and the stickers you send are kind of cute so he’ll let this continue. even if by continue he means sending mediocre, lacklustre responses that just barely manages to keep the conversation going.

(in sae’s mind at eighteen, sending replies like okay and i see are considered acceptable and subjectively considered effort.)

when summer break finally ends and it’s early september, sae finally sees you again while he walks to school. he walks a little faster just to catch up to you before he adjusts his pace, acts like it’s coincidence that he’s right beside you.

and somehow he’s made it a routine; to memorise what bus you get off of and catch you on the way to school. even if he sees you in classes and even after classes in the library.

you’re acting a little less like he’s on a podium and more like normal friends and he kind of likes that. he likes being able to see you unfiltered when you gossip, likes seeing you laugh at stupid lame jokes, likes the way you hang close to him whenever you’re beside him.

okay maybe like is a little stretching it, he doesn’t mind being able to tolerate it. or maybe he’s just in denial, whatever.

winter comes and it’s somehow the time when more girls try to talk to him, mainly because somehow the school decides to hold a winter event this year; it’s going to be held near the edge of the city, where the biggest skating rink is.

by his guess, most girls are looking for a guy to have a skating date with.

in the library during your usual meetup for the school project, sae gets more than a couple visitors trying to get him for that same reason. you eye everyone that approaches the table, and sae can’t help but notice how he actually likes when you’re pouty. maybe it’s his twisted thinking that jealousy means you’re still into him.

“itoshi-kun, i was thinking whether you wanted to go to the winter event together?” another girl from your class, mizuno, asks him, and sae is tired of it, frankly. but he doesn’t show it. he only looks at you, and you look back at him because he doesn’t usually stare for this long.

then, he looks at mizuno and rejects her.

“sorry, can’t, i’m going with y/n.”

(you get home that day being completely flustered and completely happy.)

on the day of the event, sae keeps his word. he goes with you, sticks beside you the entire time. his friends snap pictures of the two of you and you always look so embarrassed. maybe you’re just not used to all of this attention. but that’s fine, it’s cute.

one thing he learns about you is that you can be real clumsy sometimes. like now, when you get so excited over your watermelon slushie that you somehow spill it all over your jacket and clothes.

sae ends up giving you his puffy winter jacket while he braves the cold with whatever he has left. that’s fine, he’s strong. besides, getting to watch you wear his jacket the entire time feels like a bonus somehow.

he thinks by now you should confess already, but you don’t. you’re happy to stay in this bubble with him right now, whichever phase the two of you are at. so is he. it feels kind of nice.

feels especially nice when you hang onto him for dear life in the skating rink even though neither of you are moving. sae’s aware that people are staring holes into both of you but it’s strange how much he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. that’s why he holds his hands out, lets you take them, makes himself pull you along. he finds himself wishing neither of you were wearing gloves so he could feel how soft your hands are.

by the end of the day, everyone takes it that the both of you are together, even though the both of you are too avoidant to talk about it.

“hey, sae? thanks for today,” you say later that night when everything is done and you’d had the giddiest experience with sae. he’s walking you home and he doesn’t even know why; it’s a mystery to him why he keeps himself close whenever he can.

“it’s fine, i was the one who told people i was going with you, so.”

when he gets you to your front porch, you don’t go in immediately, standing right there with your back facing him, and sae wonders what’s going through your head. if only he could see the expression on your face right now, maybe he’d know.

you let him; because you turn around, giving him a big smile before you take a step forward and press a chaste kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on your heel and running into your house.

neither of you say bye, both of you are just a little too stunned to speak. sae stands out there in the cold for a little while longer, his face and ears red—he’s not even sure whether it’s from the weather or from you—but even when he starts to leave, you’re still slumped at your front door, covering your face in embarrassment, knees too weak to stand up.

there’s only one more quarter left until you graduate and sae and you both act like nothing happened that day. you still gossip unfiltered and he still listens but acts like he doesn’t.

except now instead of sitting across from you, he opts to sit directly beside you. sometimes sits a little too close just so your arms will brush against each other. sae also lets you keep his puffy jacket because you said you liked it.

you wear it throughout winter.

when graduation comes around and it’s time for sae to choose his university, he can’t help but take a peek at your screen. a smile comes to his face when he sees your first choice is the same as his. you’re smart too, he doesn’t doubt you’ll get in.

“itoshi sae, you can smile?”

sae immediately turns it into a frown. “guess not.”

you take your words back. “hey, i’m just kidding! it’s just rare… that’s all.”

so you notice him a lot then?

sure, you might not have seen him smile a lot. but that’s fine. from what sae knows, you have the entirety of your university years to possibly catch it.

UNIVERSITY: FRESHMAN YEAR

of course you enter the same university as itoshi sae. it’s not on purpose, but you’re glad you both made it here anyway.

at least knowing one friendly face is better than none.

to be honest, you’re not really sure where you and sae stand. he’s never said anything about that kiss, but he also doesn’t stay away from you. can you take that as a positive thing?

if anything, he’s even closer.

somehow, his dorms and yours are practically next door. when you open your bathroom window, you can look right into his. it happened once, by accident, and you’d caught him, shirtless with just a white towel hanging around his neck, hair damp as he brushes his teeth, the droplets of water on his abs looking very inviting.

but then he caught you staring and you’ve shut your bathroom window ever since. thankfully, he never mentions it.

being in university and staying in campus meant that you were both hanging out much more informally. and you’d think that two people at the age of nineteen who’d known each other for three years would be less awkward than this but it’s you and sae and somehow there’s always an element of awkwardness.

it’s halfway into your freshman year and you’d just watched the first match that sae’s playing for the university team. you’re a little starstruck, honestly. to think that the guy you’ve always had a crush on is this good at soccer.

he’s amazing. you’re feeling like a potato sack.

“hey, you know him right?” hime gushes.

your friends are with you, so it’s natural they ask.

mira on your left sighs, “guess we have no shot with him since he’s with y/n all the time,” she says, nudging you in the elbow.

you’re starting to regret bringing them here with all the teasing. you’re also regretting coming here yourself because you see several girls running to him asking for a picture together. some of which you recognise, some of which are the popular girls.

sae doesn’t stop them from snapping what they can, but he also doesn’t stop for them at all. instead, he saunters over to you, hime and mira wordlessly disappearing to the side.

“gimme that,” sae says, gesturing to the phone in your hand. you obey, of course, and he smirks, then he snaps a selfie with you before tossing your phone back and walking off.

the pairs of eyes on you make you half-embarrassed yet half-proud. even with this many fangirls, sae chooses to come to you.

that night sae asks you to send him the picture.

yeah, maybe you can take that as a positive thing.

freshman year after that is generally uneventful. you and sae are both trying to find your footing, with him preoccupied mostly with soccer trainings while you’re drowning in assignments and projects that have nothing to do with him.

but you still see him in the mornings sometimes, when you walk past your common room and he’s in his, and you wave at him when he’s alone so you’re not so shy, and he nods in acknowledgement before he just walks away.

one night while you’re burning the midnight oil trying to cram some accounting knowledge into your brain, you get a text from sae.

wanna get supper?

both of you end up at one of the supper spots outside of school, a little cosy shop that sells boba and ramen even after midnight.

“why’d you wanna get supper?”

sae shrugs, taking a sip of his plain water. “just bored, couldn’t sleep.”

“isn’t this soccer season? you can’t even eat anything in here, it’s definitely not passable for your diet.”

he sighs, leaning back against his chair. “so? quit whining and start eating your shit already.”

if it was some other guy you’d be rolling your eyes and storming off. but it’s sae and you know him and he thinks he’s talking normally like this. besides, when you catch his eyes flicker up to lock with yours you get a little dizzy inside.

“what’re you up so late for anyway?”

sae’s fingers are drumming lightly against the surface of the metal table, teal eyes diligently observing as you bring the strands of noodle to your lips. “told you, i couldn’t sleep.”

you find that strange; he’s always been able to sleep, no problem. and he’s strict about his eight hour sleep schedule. what could be getting to the great itoshi sae?

(sae’s lying through his teeth; having his bedroom right across from yours means he can see when your lights aren’t out. sue him for being a little concerned.)

“so, heard you and the team are going on a soccer trip somewhere in europe,” you bring up. you’d heard it from your friends, strangely, instead of sae himself.

he nods. “yeah, just a select few,” he tells you, “only if we win the tournament though, then the team’ll officially invite us over.”

so-called team you heard about is real madrid, and you’d be crazy to think that sae couldn’t help your university team win on his own.

“guess i won’t be seeing you around when you go,” you mumble idly, not completely aware of what you’re basically saying.

sae is adept at reading in between the lines, but he doesn’t probe you on it. he’s not sure he wants to. he doesn’t know what this is. do you still like him? does he like you too? all these feelings are new; sae doesn’t know what to do with it.

so he keeps it to himself. for now.

he doesn’t really do a good job at following through with it though, because on the day of the tournament finals, he looks at you and winks right as he orchestrates that winning goal for his team, and you’re left wondering if you’re imagining things.

UNIVERSITY: SOPHOMORE YEAR

the final part of your freshman year went and gone, and it didn’t go exactly how you imagined it to be. you didn’t expect to hear from sae at all when he went on his trip after that tournament.

but you did.

he replied you whenever he had the time. told you anything you asked for. even called you when you had a mini meltdown because of finals.

to be frank, you don’t know what the both of you are anymore. you’re cursing yourself for being too scared to ask.

“hey y/n, have you seen hime anywhere?”

it’s oliver asking, captain of the university’s soccer team and also hime’s current situationship. he’d started hitting her up since that first time sae played and brought attention to you and the people around you.

“yeah, she’s by the pool with mira.”

oliver leaves as soon as you tell him, and you stand awkwardly at the corner of the living room, by the full panel of glass windows, wondering if you should just go home. you’d only came because hime and mira both said you needed to experience a party at least once this year but now you’re surrounded by people making out and drunkards slipping into the pool that it makes you regret giving this a shot at all.

especially since sae’s not going to be back till tomorrow, garnering as much interest as he did during his time in spain. you really have no reason to be here.

“hey there, pretty.”

startled, you find a familiar face up close in your personal space, his finger twirling your hair. you’d recognise that head of blonde and pink anywhere.

“oh, you’re ryusei shido right? you’re on the soccer team with sae,” you think out loud, and he nods, and you can see his blonde lashes so closely it’s making you flustered.

“mhm, fwhat’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a corner? seems like a shame,” he comments, though he doesn’t even give you a chance to answer. the next thing you know, shido drags you into a drinking game with hime and mira (which is why your first instinct wasn’t to run off, if you could trust anyone it’s your best friends). although, shido is getting annoyingly close and you can’t decide if you’re nervous or annoyed.

and the heavens surely love you when they let shido draw the card that corresponds to a dare, and they love testing your boundaries when some guy called otoya dares him to kiss you.

but no, you know that the heavens really do love you when someone yanks shido’s hair back and pulls him away from your face, taking his spot in between the both of you in the bid for proximity that you don’t mind because it’s itoshi sae.

“sae, what’re you doing here? i thought you wouldn’t be back till tomorrow,” you ask, a little shell-shocked but you still notice he’s discerning frown and how there’s barely any space between the two of you.

he looks at you, tilting his head, “what? my girl’s not happy to see me here?”

you don’t respond. half because you think you’re dreaming and fuck—really, did he just call you his girl?

“eh? i don’t recall you having a girlfriend?” shido leers, a hand on the spot of his head where sae had pulled on earlier.

“yeah, besides, shido still has to do the dare.” otoya sounds bored more than anything, but the guy beside him, karasu, if you remember correctly, is smirking.

sae sighs, and you feel like you must’ve crossed the boundary to another dimension when you feel sae’s lips on yours, and you think you’re in limbo when you feel his hand on your neck, pulling you close. his tongue pries your lips apart and people are whistling while shido’s behind him saying get a fucking room or i’ll beat off to this.

when the object of your affection finally pulls away, you’re met with the same pair of unbothered teal eyes, the pair that immediately turns to face otoya. “there, did it for him. now move on.”

you’re beginning to thank alcohol for its existence when almost everyone obeys wordlessly, moving on to some other guy’s turn. you really can’t remember who sits on shido’s right when all you can think of is that itoshi sae, your longtime high school crush, actually kissed you.

that’s enough to warrant the question, right? the question of what sae takes you for?

the inner debate sparks long into the night, even when sae walks you back to your apartment, the both of you side by side in silence.

“sae, what was that?”

he plays coy. “what was what?”

you’re only a little tipsy, so you can still tolerate his avoidance. “you confuse me a lot, you know that?”

sae doesn’t take the bait. “oh, i see.”

“you were jealous.” he was. he really was. you can tell; he was sour to shido the entire night. he stuck close to you too, sometimes your fingers brushed against each other’s.

“so what if i was?”

this one is new. sae’s actually admitting it. and usually you’d chicken out but you can see your apartment coming into view and you don’t want to let this go.

“what am i to you, sae?” you manage to choke it out a few feet away from the door, and sae stops in his tracks, hands in his pocket and teal eyes looking heavenward.

you’re beginning to regret your decision to ask; you’re not sure if his indecision is a good or bad thing. nothing seems to be simple when it comes to itoshi sae.

but he does nothing to appease your confusion when he steps in front of you, his body pressed flush against yours as he presses another kiss to your lips, and you think this one is special because it’s not done in the name of a dare or in front of anyone else. this kiss is for you and you alone and sae is doing this on purpose.

when he pulls back, you see him furrow his brows and you can tell that maybe he’s just as confused as you are.

“when i managed to get an earlier slot for my flight, all i could think about was how excited i was to see you.”

is this… a confession? you’re even more confused now that you don’t even know what to say.

to be honest, so is sae, which is why he swallows the lump in his throat and relegates to his apartment, “goodnight.”

things after that change just a little.

you’d decided to go with the flow, just because you really don’t want to sabotage whatever friendship you and sae had left, although most of the time, sae is the one toeing the line. even though he doesn’t outright tell you anything regarding his feelings.

but you think you figured him out.

sae asks you out whenever you’re both free, and not for shit like studying or errands, but for movies and dinner and he drives you around in his car and looks at you like you’re the only girl he sees. his eyes don’t wander when he’s with you, and he lets you wear even more of his jackets. it’s also evolved to his jerseys and his beloved windbreakers. you have one of each in your own closet and he never seems to ask for them back anymore. he also lets you wear his rings, puts them on your fingers randomly.

both of you still go for parties, especially when it’s one of the soccer guys who are throwing it, because they practically force sae to go and they know you’re the key to convincing him.

most of the time the two of you just laze on the couch, drinking and talking about nothing at all, and he idly plays with your fingers when he’s tipsy, something you never tell him because you like it, because you don’t want him to feel self-conscious and stop. he also smells your hair after he sends you home and hugs you before he retreats to his place, and you wonder if he’s fully sober when he does that.

you resign to getting your answer some other time, because you don’t want anything to ruin this, if this is just an illusion. yeah, you’d talking feelings some other time.

UNIVERSITY: JUNIOR YEAR

you really had no right to be, but you are. try as you might, you can’t stop yourself from feeling the way you do. especially not when she’s sitting so so close to him, when her hand brushes his fingers.

she’s just his project partner, nothing more, but something irks you about the way she can get so close to him so quickly when it took you much longer. but then you hear from shido that kaori is rin and sae’s childhood friend, so maybe that’s why they’re so damn close.

apparently, she’d gotten back to japan after ten years abroad. with great timing too, right when you thought you and sae could amount to something.

“you know, i could help you make him jealous if you wanna,” shido whispers in your ear one time when he catches you staring at them. “we’ll make him feel how you feel, m’kay?”

and while that’s tempting, you shake your head. it’s unreasonable for you to take it out on him that way, not when he hasn’t actually done anything that proves he’s just leading you on.

lately sae’s been so busy around kaori that you’re just thinking too much. you’re wondering if he’s slowly replacing you. he still talks to you over text, but you barely hang out like you did before. you still spot him through the windows, but he’s always too tired to notice you. even his texts are getting slower.

“hey, you okay?”

trust it to hime to notice your personal dilemma. you’re not really surprised though, because she’s been watching you moping for the last few weeks. she now has oliver wrapped fully around her finger, with him sticking around her all the time, which is a surprise considering his reputation.

but hime will take your side, you know this, and maybe that’s why you play it off. you don’t want her to hate sae because of a momentary feeling, so you tell her you’re just sick and you’ll go back home.

the moment you get back to your apartment, you see sae waiting out on the front, car ready while he leans against the hood, waiting.

and you might’ve asked if he was waiting for kaori, but then he looks up and sees you and smirks and that’s all you need to know that he’s not. he was waiting for you, and now he’s opening the passenger side door and telling you to “get in, stupid.”

that’s how sae is with you, impromptu and surprisingly sweet. he drives you to the pier, a cute spot right next to an amusement park where he’d gotten you some candy floss before the both of you just sits on the hood of his car, enjoying the scenery.

“why’d you suddenly bring me here?”

sae lies down, the sun hitting his face in all the right places. he’s gorgeous, you realise for what seems like the thousandth time since you’d known him.

“oliver told me you’d been a little mopey lately,” sae says, and you’re already embarrassed. “sorry if i’ve been busy lately.”

you mirror his position, lying down next to him, and it feels oddly nice like this. you’re not sure if it’s the situation or the person.

“it’s okay, i heard that kaori’s your old friend right? you guys must have a lot to catch up on.” it doesn’t stop you from feeling jealous, but it’ll pass. you hope.

sae chuckles before he turns to you, and you turn to face him too, “you’re jealous.” he smirks, and you’re reminded of the same thing you told him that first night he kissed you.

“shut up, sae.”

he laughs because you’re being pouty, and because maybe it feels a little nice to know you can feel it too. just then, he mirrors what you did way back in high school, reaching across you for your phone. except he doesn’t key in anything—he opens up your camera and takes a picture of the two of you like this, sae looking naturally handsome and better than you because you’re stunned he’s doing this, eyes wide and expression puzzled.

“what’s that for?”

sae’s still fiddling on your phone as you ask, and then he passes it back to you. he’d set it as your phone’s wallpaper.

“to remind you that you’re the one i like, idiot.”

and even though you and sae aren’t physically too close in the wallpaper, you think maybe it’s enough to tide your feelings through for now. he doesn’t ask you for anything else after that, just leaves his confession at that and sends you home before saying he has to finish up his project, aka going to find kaori.

it’s fine by you though, because now you know where sae’s head’s at, even though he never explicitly asked you anything. you’re sure he knows how you feel too, especially since you’d been the one to kiss him first that day a few years back.

but how apt for you to go to sleep early and be woken up by dozens of messages blowing up your phone, the majority of them attaching pictures at a certain party.

still pictures of sae locking lips with kaori, and you feel your heart sinking.

sae’s message comes through just as you’re scrolling through your phone.

meet me at my place? not what it looks like, i promise.

and maybe it’s because you feel like you know sae well enough that you’re not even panicking. you respond within seconds.

sure, see you!

you take the liberty of going next door, entering when one of the other guys who lives there clumsily walks in drunk. it’s easy enough to find sae’s room, you recognise it from across your own room too well. and maybe it’s a slight invasion of privacy but you can’t help but turn your attention to his desk.

his room is all neat with the occasional laundry thrown on the corner of the room, trophies and medals on the bookshelf by the table. but what catches your eye is the little pink heart-shaped post-it note that looks all too familiar.

your handwriting fills the piece of paper.

i think you’re cute and i really really like you

you could cringe right now from how cringe you were being back then. but then you realise, sae kept this? did he keep this knowing it was from you? you hear the door opening downstairs and jump back a little, accidentally pressing on his keyboard while trying to place your note back in its position, and the screensaver that greets you renders you speechless.

it’s the picture sae took of the both of you at the bleachers of his first match.

someone closes the laptop before you can think any more, and you’re greeted with sae right next to you, cheeks flushed—either from alcohol or embarrassment. you can’t really tell, but judging from the lack of alcohol stench, you’d like to bet it’s the latter.

“you have me as your wallpaper?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed he didn’t get there in time for you not to see that. “who else would i put there?”

you bite your tongue to stop yourself from instinctively saying kaori out of spite. guess you’re still a little groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night.

“about earlier,” sae begins, not really sure how to continue.

“you mean the pics going around of you and kaori kissing?” you’re not even mad, you’re sure there’s an explanation—that’s how much you feel you know itoshi sae. he’s not the type to bother with leading someone on; if anything, he’s probably the type to immediately cut things off if he wasn’t interested and so far, he’s always been thinking of you.

sae sighs, rubbing his temple before taking a seat on his bed. “that was fucking stupid,” he grumbles, eyes closed. “she was way too tipsy and getting all up in my face and before i knew it she just—” his eyes are open now, briefly looking at you before looking away, hiding behind the sides of his soft locks, “she kissed me. i was stunned for a little so…”

you snicker a little, because sae looks so different from how he usually looks—aloof, ignorant, arrogant. now he looks like a puppy who’s been kicked to the side and you can’t help but notice the difference.

“sae… why are you telling me this?”

screw his indecisiveness, if it was in the first place. you want his answer now, up straight. and sae seems to know what you’re thinking because he chuckles, relieved because he can read your tone—you’re not angry, not upset, you trust him somehow and it’s only because despite what you think, you know him better than anyone else.

“fuck off, y/n, you already know,” and he says this affectionately because you can feel the tenderness in the way he says your name, in the way he invites you into his arms—the way he pulls you close and lets you sit facing him on his lap. “you gonna be my girlfriend now or what?”

your lips are so so close and you’re both holding back so so much. “mmm i don’t know, itoshi sae, what if i wanna see you beg me for it?”

“god, i hate you,” he says, without meaning it. it’s the first time you’re actually feeling how strong he is, because he lifts you up from the back of your thighs and throws you on his bed as he hovers over you, a little squeal leaving your lips at the unexpected gesture. “hm, kinda like that sound you make.”

he’s saying it so monotonously that you’re embarrassed. “shut up, sae, before i leave.”

“that’s cute, you think you’d actually leave me,” he teases, and you curse yourself for finding that slight condescending tone of his hot. “but hey, really, be my girlfriend.”

“you asking me that after kissing another girl?” you act shocked, acutely aware of how his fingers are all intertwining with yours, your hands on either side of your head, sae pinning you down. if anyone walked in now, they’d get the wrong idea of what you two are doing. for sure. but you try to act unbothered, you don’t want to boost his ego even more.

sae leans down to press his forehead against yours, and you’re hoping your heart doesn’t leap out of your chest because he’d definitely feel it. “shit timing, i know. but you’re the only one i want, so.”

he’s pretty shit at talking emotions, you realise. and then you realise that this only works because you’re equally good at reading his. despite his reluctance to talk emotions, he shows you how special you are, constantly.

many girls want him, but you’re the one he spends most of his time with. you’re the one with his actual clothes in your closet and his rings on your fingers. you’re the one sae kisses and willingly so, the only one who’s on his wallpaper reminding him of what he’ll have each time he comes home.

“i told kaori i liked you and no one else too,” sae continues explaining, though he really doesn’t need to. you listen anyway. “she got mad and stormed off but shit, i don’t care. only care about you.”

and he’s pretty forthcoming with his feelings when he wants to be and that’s enough for you. you squeeze his fingers lightly and smile at him.

you don’t have to hear any more to know.

“i love you too, itoshi sae.”

the way he marks you that night lets you in on everything you need to know.

UNIVERSITY: SENIOR YEAR

six years.

it’s been six years since you’d first had a crush on itoshi sae. and now you’re his girlfriend, always in the front row for every match and the object of most of his fangirls’ hatred. that’s okay though, none of that matters.

whenever you come back home to your (shared) apartment now, it’s like all your worries melt away into the void, and sae reminds you just how much you mean. even if his pet names are less than swoon-worthy at times.

“you really need to stop posting shit like this,” you deadpan, showing sae your phone screen. it’s a picture of you asleep in the morning, drooling on his bare shoulder.

sae blinks, acting coy like he always does. “what? it’s cute.”

“you’re insufferable, itoshi.”

sae ignores that, switching the subject. “hey, you have any goals for your twenties?”

you hum, pondering. “well, i guess if i could do what i want, i’d travel the world,” you pause, sitting up on the sofa and looking at him. “why?”

it’s the last year of university, and the both of you are finishing your degrees, with the possibility that sae might be getting a contract with one of the overseas clubs. you’re not really sure; there’s a few of them who’ve expressed interest, but you’d always let sae think through it on his own.

does his question have something to do with that?

“was thinking i wanted to take you along if you wanted to come with,” sae half explains, because he’s bad with details like that. he continues when he spots your confusion, “if you wanted to explore wherever i decided to go.”

oh, he means he wants to take you along to wherever he decided to go. you’re flattered, honestly.

“you mean, the itoshi sae wants to bring me wherever he goes, huh?” sae is already turning red, sensing your big head. “you offering to be my sugar daddy too?”

sae sighs. “you’re so stupid, i swear,” he complains, his words lacking any bite because he’s rubbing circles onto your arms. “you said you found some remote jobs right? thought we could make use of that and just go wherever together.”

after six years, you finally see sae trying to plan a future where the both of you are together. he loves soccer, but he loves you too, and you’re not the kind of person who’d make him choose, so you appreciate his compromises instead.

“itoshi sae, i’ll follow you wherever you go.”

he presses a hasty kiss on your lips, “good, ‘cause i plan on keeping you forever.”

you grin, pulling him down to you and kissing him even deeper, “i’ll hold you to your words, then.”

sae smiles against your lips. because he knows he got lucky with you, lucky you were there at the right moment, slipping your love letter into his locker. lucky you continued to like him, lucky you knew how to put him in his place whenever. lucky you’re you and you love him.

maybe he’s always liked you, even back in freshman year of high school when he realised how kind you are, how gentle you could be. you looked pretty in the sun that day, when he first saw you trying out soccer in the yard and falling flat on your ass. you didn’t notice him back then but he noticed you, not that you knew. sae didn’t try anything because he was sure it’d fail. but who knew all it took for his mind to change was a simple nudge from you?

he’s pretty sure that you’re his human manifestation of a forever.

“when the time comes, just say yes.”

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #sae fluff #sae itoshi fluff #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

[pshaven]

LITTLE BIT OF AFFECTION 박성훈 ᥫ᭡

pairing sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis as your manager, sunghoon has to ensure all your needs are met and that you’re performing at your absolute best. but when your ex turns out to be the director of your newest project, you’re not doing your best. it’s his job to guarantee that this never happens again. (ib the manhwa, muse on fame!)

cw smut (mdni), coworkers(??) to lovers, vulnerability, beomgyu hits on reader, heeseung as reader’s ex, jealous!sunghoon, service top!sunghoon, BIG DICK SUNGHOON, sunghoon tells reader to boss him around (spoiler, she doesn’t), no protection (pls don’t do this), creampie, dirty talk, reassurance, cunnilingus, pnv, sunghoon pussy drunk, feelings are not being discussed, (small) aftercare, lmk if there’s anything i missed!!

wc 5.7k+

Sunghoon has one job– making sure that you are doing your job.

At your beck and call, he’s always there for you since you started to blow up in the acting industry. He was assigned to you by your agency, and you don’t have any complaints about him. You’ve heard stories of actors and actresses wanting to constantly change their managers and assistants, but Sunghoon has yet to give you a reason to doubt his skills.

He ensures that you’re on time for everything, which is step one of getting in the good books of movie producers and directors. You’ve only grown more with him by your side, and you feel like if he isn’t there for you, you would’ve gone into bollywood.

And you definitely would not be here, right now, on the red carpet with him standing securely behind you as paparazzi take photos of you. Your eyes squint slightly at the bright flashes, never really getting used to the swarm of camera clicks being shoved in your face even after years of experience.

Sunghoon notices your discomfort, and he speeds up his walk to catch up to your side as he brings his arm in front of your face to shield you from the paparazzi. “That’s enough. Thank you guys for your time,” He says, ever so stoic and cold as he bows stiffly before linking your arm with his, leading you inside the awards venue.

Staying with Sunghoon for so long has its perks. He easily picks up your facial or body expressions, knowing when you’re uncomfortable or satisfied with something. You don’t have to voice a single thing with him, if you really didn’t want to. He already knows everything. He knows what you need, what you want.

You like to think that people are jealous of you. Not because of your skills, your talent, or popularity in the acting industry, but of your Sunghoon. You think you got extremely lucky with him. He’s just your manager, but he’s much more than that.

He likes to cook for you, especially after that one night where you randomly said you enjoyed home cooked meals rather than eating out. He drives you everywhere and would drop whatever he’s doing in a millisecond just to take you to the mall. That being said, he’s also your stylist almost. He has shockingly good taste, knows what material or color you like or dislike. You always go with his picks rather than your actual stylist.

So of course, tonight, you’re wearing what he picked out for you. Which undoubtedly, leads to many other actors and actresses staring and it only makes you more confident about yourself, and the man by your side.

You’re aware of the ongoing rumors, albeit not aired to the public, so it’s only being spread to other actors in the industry. The rumors of you and your manager dating. How absurd, how unprofessional! Sunghoon is here for you and your work, only. It’s his job to make sure his actress is doing well and getting everything she wants, no?

This is why you think people are jealous of your Sunghoon. You like to pretend like you’re parading your beloved manager around other actors and actresses since he’s just so amazing– the manager that everyone can only wish for, and you have him in the palm of your hand.

“Ahem… excuse me?”

You turn your head around, looking past Sunghoon’s broad figure. Beomgyu stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously as he plays with the rings that adorn his fingers. You silently gasp– Beomgyu is incredibly well known, way more than you are (in your humble opinion).

“Yes? Hello,” You smile politely as Sunghoon steps to the side a bit, looking anywhere but at you and Beomgyu conversing. Not that it makes any difference, he’s going to be listening closely anyway. He doesn’t need to look at your body language to know when you want to get away.

“Sorry to bother. Just wanted to introduce myself, I loved you in ‘I Found You’. I’m Beomgyu,” he introduces himself, extending his hand out to you.

Your smile widens at the compliment as you shake hands with him, “Thanks so much! It was my first romance movie, so it was a bit difficult but I’m glad you enjoyed watching it. I love all your works as well… you didn’t even need to introduce yourself to me.” You laugh a little.

Beomgyu chuckles as well. “Ah, well just in case. Don’t wanna seem like an asshole if I don’t. Plus my movies aren’t really to everyone's taste, I stick to a very specific genre…” he trails off as he begins to ponder in thought, “...but I would be willing to try out a romance movie with you.”

You’re caught off guard, your eyes widening subtly and you’re unsure on how to reply. No doubt he’s attractive, but you’re still in your early years and still rising in the charts. Going on dates is forbidden in your contract for now.

But you have your trusty manager, Sunghoon, who clears his throat before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Let’s go?” He whispers so closely, you can feel his lips barely touching the shell of your ear. A shiver runs down your spine before you nod softly, taking his arm that he offers to you.

“It was nice to meet you. We have to be going to our seats now,” Sunghoon speaks for you so that you don’t have to directly answer Beomgyu's innuendo. He leads you down the aisle of seats, leaving Beomgyu alone at the top.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Sunghoon greets you as you come out of your bedroom, hair still a mess and eyes barely adjusting to the bright sun. “You have a new project.” He points to the folder on your kitchen island, and you groggily make your way to pick it up.

You flip through it, barely paying attention to much other than the title since all the script words looked jumbled up. You place it back down on the countertop as you sit down across from where Sunghoon stands.

“Interested?” He asks you, placing a plate in front of you that has a (too) healthy looking avocado toast and two strips of bacon. You frown at the plate, but you don’t complain as you take the fork to take a bite of the bacon. Sunghoon chuckles at this before turning around and placing another plate next to your sad avocado toast. You happily grin at the new plate of waffles and strawberries, thanking him profusely.

You take a bite of the waffle before answering him. “Sure, I guess,” You shrug your shoulders, too busy with your delicious breakfast to even take note of the plot, directors, producers, the, you know, important stuff.

“Alright, then eat up. I will be back later, I need to take care of some things. Call me if you need anything, alright?” He grabs his coat and keys, but slows down when he sees you look up at him from your meal.

“Where are you going?”

“To the office. I got called in earlier, but wanted to stop by to make you breakfast before I went,” He informs you with a shrug before giving you a (tiny) reassuring smile, wishing you a goodbye. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

A few weeks have passed, which means that it’s time for you to start production of your new project. You’ve read the script and everything, and it was… very interesting. You’re not the main lead or anything, but you play the second leading role. You’ve never been a fan of love triangles or anything of that sort, but after a good read-through and analysis, the writer seems to make this one more interesting.

So you’re intrigued, flipping through the script once more as Sunghoon drives you to the filming location. He looks over at you for a second, “Already memorized some lines, huh?” He’s half joking– you’ve got some weird knack for memorizing lines and improvising, and it’s one of the reasons why you’re such a sought out actress nowadays. Improvisation makes it more natural and interesting, and you get consumed into your roles very easily which makes it easy for you to improvise on the spot.

You huff out a laugh, closing the folder and setting it aside. “Only like, five.”

Sunghoon pulls up to the filming location– a pretty, wide and open lake. You walk up to the set, Sunghoon following closely behind but you suddenly stop in your tracks. He nearly collides into you if it weren’t for his eyes catching your sudden halt.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, concerns beginning to raise as he follows where your eyes are trained on. He has a bit of trouble trying to follow what you’re looking at, but your eyes begin to squint and your nose also scrunch up slightly. Your signs of discomfort.

He places a comforting hand on the small of your back, and most of the time it does the trick.

But this time, it didn't.

“Y/n? Look at me,” Sunghoon says, voice still even and stern but he’s worried as overthinking thoughts begin to flood into his brain.

Your brows furrow and the corner of your lips curve into a slight frown. You’re still not paying attention to Sunghoon, and he’s not having any of it. He needs to know why you’re like this, and he won’t just wait for you.

He grabs your chin, turning your head away from whatever you were looking at. “You okay?” He asks softly now, after seeing your eyes glossy, like you’re about to cry. Never in his years of being your manager has he seen you like this. You look vulnerable, with your wide and wet eyes looking up at him with your brows knitted together.

He wants to eat you up.

“Director…” You mumble out as your jaw clenches. Now he understands– you’re not sad. You’re angry. And for some reason, you’re angry at the director.

He turns his attention to the director that’s grabbing a cup of coffee from (presumably) his secretary’s hand. For the first time, Sunghoon doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why you’re so upset and angry at the director. As your manager, he always does background checks on whoever you’re working with. He always makes sure you’re working with well-respected actors, producers, and directors. Did he miss something? Impossible.

One look at you makes him want to take you back home.

But as your manager, it’s his job to ensure that you do yours. And in this case, it is to act.

His eyes harden as he squeezes your shoulder softly. “What’s wrong with the director?”

He’s your manager. You need to tell him the truth if you want him to help you.

“My ex.”

It’s like Sunghoon just got slapped across the face. Of course! He feels like a fucking idiot. It’s his job to know your relationships, even before you got into acting. He needs to know for situations like this, but it’s too late now. You’ve already signed a contract to act in this movie, and there’s no backing out.

He breathes out a hefty sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Sunghoon apologizes, but you shake your head before looking back up at him. And like that, your eyes are dry and your face is stoic. This is what he likes about you. You’re professional– you won’t let ex’s affect your acting, even if it’s just for a moment of weakness.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” You mumble. You take a deep breath before walking closer to the set, catching the attention of staff, and the director.

“Y/n?” Heeseung gets up from his director’s seat, going up to you with a perfect, pearly white smile. You feel sick inside as he engulfs you in a warm hug that you sometimes miss whenever you’re alone in your bed at night.

“Hi… Heeseung,” You greet, keeping the hug short and sweet as you pull away and step back, your backside meeting Sunghoon’s chest in solidarity.

“It’s really nice to see you again, after all these years,” He begins the small talk, and you bite your bottom lip to refrain from any peak of weakness showing through. “I’m glad our wish is coming true, now. You remember? You, starring in one of my movies, that I’ll direct.”

You feel Sunghoon stiffening up at Heeseung’s words.

That silly promise. That stupid, insignificant promise that you and Heeseung made when the two of you were still dating. When the two of you were still trying to find the path to become a part of the movie industry. What a waste of time.

Five years ago, you wouldn’t believe that you and Heeseung broke up. There was one point in time where it was just you and him, no one else. You had no one to depend on, he had no one to depend on. The two of you just found one another, and it was comfortable.

Unfortunately, you didn’t see a future with him. Therefore, a lot of crying and begging of please, take me back! Give me another chance! were being said that night.

Sunghoon clears his throat to capture the attention of the both of you. “I think Y/n needs to go get her hair and makeup done, now,” He speaks in his usual monotone voice, except this time there’s no ‘pleased to meet you’, or ‘nice talking to you’ this time.

He leads you away from Heeseung, into your trailer where the stylists begin to work on you.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” Sunghoon asks as the hair stylist begins to work on your hair, your makeup already done. He knows he doesn’t really have to ask this question, but he wants your verbal answer this time.

“No.”

A white lie, both you and Sunghoon know it, but neither of you acknowledge your fib.

He nods, getting up from his seat on the spare chair beside you. “Do you want me to grab you anything? Coffee, snacks…? I think there’s a bakery nearby or something. I can see if they have your favorite, strawberry croissant?”

What your answer would usually be a yes please!, you shake your head as you purse your lips into a thin line.

“No. Please stay.”

And so he does. He stays with you throughout the entire shoot, not keeping his eye off you. Even during breaks and scene cuts, he’s by your side in a second before Heeseung can even get a word in with you. The day ends slower than you would wish for, but the producer yells that’s a wrap!, and you’re booking it into your designated trailer.

You pack up quickly with the help of Sunghoon before the two of you make your way into his car. But of course, you’re not exactly the luckiest person in the world today it seems like.

“Y/n! Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Heeseung calls for you, lightly jogging up to catch up to you and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon gives you a look that asks if you want him to make a lame excuse that you have to go and can’t spare any time for Heeseung, but you give your manager a slight smile and a reassuring nod.

You can’t avoid Heeseung forever, especially since you know this project will take at least three months to finish. You should at least get the closure you didn’t get five years ago.

“Hi, Y/n. You’re hard to catch up with,” Heeseung chuckles lightly, rubbing the nape of his neck, a nervous habit of his that you know all too well.

You smile at him, returning a small laugh. “Ah, sorry. Just wanted to go home and take a nice shower, but what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say, um…” Heeseung struggles with his words, biting the inside of his cheek, “I hope we can work well together. Once again, I’m really happy that you're on this project with me. I requested you personally…”

Your smile drops, but you’re quick to pick it back up, but it’s a weak smile. “Thank you, Heeseung. It’s really nice to see you again, after all these years.” You’re quick to dismiss his heartful words.

“Y/n, I’ve, uhm– I really miss you.”

“Y/n. It’s getting late. Are you ready to go?” Once again, Sunghoon is your savior.

You turn your head to Sunghoon by your side, and you nod. “See you on Tuesday, Heeseung,” You bid him farewell, plainfully ignoring his words as you climb into the passenger seat of the car.

Sunghoon shuts the door behind you, turning his attention to Heeseung. He walks up to the latter, and Heeseung subconsciously takes a small step back.

“You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re both here on a project. A job. Keep it professional, for Y/n’s sake, yeah?” Sunghoon icily says, not waiting for Heeseung’s response before he leaves to get into the driver's seat of the car.

He pulls out of the parking lot quickly, and you turn your head to your manager. “What did you say to him? And don’t lie that you didn’t say anything. I saw your mouth moving!”

Sunghoon merely shrugs his shoulders, keeping an arm on the steering wheel and his other on the console. “I told him to keep things professional. I heard what he said.”

You frown, looking away from him and out the window.

“Your acting was not really up to its standard today, Y/n,” Sunghoon tells you informingly, and your frown deepens. You know. You were aware, but to hear him say it makes it hurt your ego even more.

“He’s affecting your acting, isn’t he?” He speaks again, taking your silence as an agreement to his previous statement.

You scoff quietly, but it doesn’t miss Sunghoon’s sharp ears. “You’re asking me, but you’re saying it like it’s a fact,” you mumble, shifting closer to the car door.

Sunghoon frowns at this, a sigh leaving his lips. He doesn’t say anything in return, and the rest of the car ride back to your home is silent.

He pulls up into your driveway, quickly getting out and opening the door to your side. You thank him quietly, hopping out and making your way to your front door. Sunghoon silently follows you inside, locking the door behind him like it’s routine (it is).

“Y/n.”

You stop in your tracks, your shoulders sagging in defeat but you still have a bit of pride within you, not wanting to turn around to meet eyes with your manager.

“It is my job to ensure that you do your job well. And I failed today.”

He says it so matter of factly, it almost makes you want to snort that he takes this manager position so seriously. Perhaps he doesn’t know how much he’s really done to help you in your acting career.

You spin on your heel, turning to look at him. He takes a few steps towards you, and you stay put in the middle of your hallway.

Sunghoon continues. “I failed, and I’m sorry. I will make sure that this doesn’t happen again.”

You raise an eyebrow curiously, tilting your head to the side, “Oh? And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“Taking your mind off that ex of yours.”

He brings you into a kiss, a soft and quick one to see your reaction.

Maybe it’s the loneliness of the past years since you signed into your contract with the agency, or the vulnerability after seeing Heeseung for the first time in five years, but you feel desperate to feel Sunghoon’s lips on yours again.

So you do so, bringing his face down and perhaps it’s the delusions in your head, but Sunghoon feels just as much, if not more, desperate than you as he deepens the kiss more, bringing his hands up to your waist and pulling you in closer.

This is probably the most emotion you’ve seen from him in the three years you’ve worked with him. He’s grabbing at the fabric of your flimsy shirt, trying to pull you impossibly closer to him. He slips his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan softly as you entangle your fingers with his hair.

He groans back as he pushes you down the hall, into your bedroom. He’s been in your place plenty of times to know your layout like the back of his hand. He breaks the kiss for the two of you to catch your breath, but he barely gives you a chance to do so as he attacks your neck with his lips.

He’s nibbling at your skin, careful to not leave marks since it would only cause rumors to spread around and make it difficult for your makeup artists to cover up. But it’s easier said than done, as his teeth grazes against your collarbone while he slips the sleeves of your shirt down.

You bite your lip in anticipation, waiting and wanting him to just bite and mark you as his, but it never comes. He goes back to your lips, gently laying you down on your bed and helping you take off your shirt.

“Fuck–” Sunghoon hisses, admiring your bare chest since you had decided to discard a bra for today. “So pretty…” He mumbles, sounding dazed out. He attaches his lips to your pert nipples, his tongue circling around the bud that makes you squirm.

“S-sung..” You whimper out, your hand still entangled in the locks of his hair. He merely acknowledges you, a hum coming out from his chest as he moves on to your other nipple. You’re extremely squirmish, mostly because it’s been too long since you’ve gotten laid, but also Sunghoon’s tongue seems to read your body like a kid’s alphabet book.

“Shit,” He groans, now tugging at your pants desperately, his fingers fumbling clumsily with your button and zipper. “Need you naked for me, all for me.”

You bite your inner cheek to suppress your moan at his words, helping him out with taking your pants off. He impatiently throws your panties onto the floor beside the bed, marking his place between your thighs by kissing down your tummy.

If his intentions were to drive you crazy, it’s working.

“Heeseung ever eaten you out?” He asks suddenly, his low-lidded eyes looking up at you like some predator and you’re his prey for tonight. You bite your lip, slowly nodding.

Sunghoon gives you a curt nod in return. “I guarantee you, I’m much better.”

Maybe it’s the jealousy talking and he’s just letting his mouth run without thinking, but he doesn’t have time to overthink when he dives into your cunt and gets a taste of you. He immediately releases a moan, his hot breath on your pussy making you buck your hips up for more.

He has a job to do, and that is to make sure you don’t ever think of Heeseung again. Heeseung should be the least of your worries when you have to focus on your acting! So he makes it a personal mission, switching between swirling his tongue on your clit and prodding at your entrance.

The teasing drives you wild, wanting him to either pay attention to just your clit or your clenching hole. And like he’s reading your mind, he inserts a finger.

“Ah~! H-hoon, wan’ more!” You moan out, your hips beginning to gyrate for more friction from his singular finger. He grants you your wish, slipping another finger into your entrance and you breath out a relieved sigh.

Your taste could have him between your thighs forever, with you practically humping his face with need. Next time, he’s sure to have you sitting on his face, and he’ll drown happily in your juices.

“Fuckkk…” He moans out, his own hips starting to dry hump your sheets to let his neglected cock get some attention. To see his desperation makes you needier, your arousal spilling from your already sloppy cunt.

He notices you clenching around his fingers, and he takes the time to pull away from making out with your pussy. “You turned on? Seeing me like this? Reduced to putty by your hands?” He’s taunting you, you know but it only makes you moan louder.

You nod repeatedly, his fingers speeding up at your answer. “You taste so good, want you to cum on my tongue… can you do that for me? Hm?” He practically whines, going back to devouring your pussy without waiting for an answer.

He was going to make you cum on his mouth, either way. He feels like a starved man, slurping up your juices and arousal that leak out. Your thighs are a mess, a mix of your slick and his own saliva. He pulls his fingers out and his tongue pokes out, a glob of spit landing right on your clit.

You jolt a bit, and Sunghoon is quick to plant his hands on your waist and thigh to keep you from squirming away. “No, no, don’t move away now, baby. Let me taste what you have to give me.”

His thumb rubs at your swollen clit, but your empty hole clenches around nothing with need. Your hips work itself on his fingers, chasing for more and he watches you with awe. “Looks like you’re the one reduced to putty instead of me, now. You’re ‘bout to cum?” He hums, watching your wet cunt shine from your wetness.

You hiccup as his thumb speeds up and his tongue inserts itself into your entrance. You cry out a moan, hands frantically pulling at his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. He’s moaning into you from your taste, his own hands having your thighs in a death grip to keep you from squirming away.

“S-sungho–” You begin to stutter, the pleasure beginning to overwhelm your body and take over your thoughts. He already knows, as if he’s known your body for centuries. He nods repeatedly as a signal to allow you to cum while tongue fucking you, the motion only sending you into overdrive.

“Fuck! Oh my goddd~ cu-cumming!” You squeal, and he only presses his face further into your pussy as if his life mission was to soak his face in your essence (it just might be). He retracts when he feels you gently pushing him away, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Shit,” He curses, his tongue peeking out to lick at the corners of his lips, “Could eat you all day and night. Need you sitting on my face next time,” He mumbles, staring at your twitching cunt. You breathe heavily, recollecting your thoughts as you begin to slowly sit up, leaning on your elbows.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you, giving you a weird expression. “What? Is something wrong?” You ask, suddenly insecure as you instinctively shrink down a bit onto the bed.

“You think we’re done?”

Your eyes widen a bit, chest still heaving up and down as you catch your breath. “O-oh, I can, uhm… use my mouth on you?”

His thick brows furrow together. “No.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking away for a second out of embarrassment. You thought he liked it, did he not? Before you can even begin to overthink, you hear his belt clanking onto the ground, the zipper unzipping reaching your ears. You snap your head back at his lower half, seeing his hard cock out.

He’s softly stroking himself, his hand holding at the base that only makes his tip look even more angry and red. You gape at the sight, unconsciously scooting up against the headboard.

“Why do you keep running from me today?” Sunghoon tsks, frowning a bit as he grabs your lower calves, pulling you down towards him. You yelp quietly, his strength easily spreading your legs apart.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his tip teasing at your clit and spreading your wetness all over. You nod frantically, your hands grabbing at the sheets in anticipation. He’s definitely bigger than Heeseung, and he was already big in your eyes.

Sunghoon groans as he inserts himself inside your warm entrance, his eyes shutting as his lips part. “God, you feel so fucking—“ He hisses as he continues to go deeper, his eyes opening to watch your expression fall apart just from his cock splitting you into half.

“F-fuck, so deep…” You moan out like you’re complaining, but your legs wrap around his lower waist despite your words. You throw your head back into the pillow, feeling overwhelmed from him filling you up as your eyes screw shut.

He buries himself in you, balls deep as he hides his face into your neck. He chuckles breathlessly, the sensation against your neck making you all the more sensitive and ticklish. “S’cute. You want me that bad?” He’s referring to your legs wrapped needily around his waist, trapping him deep in you.

You nod desperately, his body weight on top of you making it impossible to move your hips against him. He smiles down at you, but his smile isn’t one of tenderness— it’s mischievous, how the corner of his lips curve slightly more upwards.

”You’re the boss of me. Tell me what to do,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, lips pressing wet kisses down your shoulder. You whine, now shaking your head as your mouth parts to speak, but nothing comes out.

Sunghoon’s smirk is now more obvious, enjoying the sight of you going dumb just by cockwarming him. “What? What’s wrong? You’re a smart girl, no? You know what you want. So say it.”

You lick your dry lips, taking a moment to think what he wants to hear. “Want.. want you to make me forget. Make me yours…” You trail off, beginning to get shy but Sunghoon proves you otherwise when a low growl rumbles in his chest.

He grabs your legs from behind him, pushing your thighs down to your chest. You gasp in surprise, his strength making you dizzy as he forces your legs down while his hips begin to thrust into you.

“Finally,” He groans out, hips easily picking up pace, “took you long enough. I was really debating on flipping you over and just make you take it… but this is much better,” he rambles, eyes focusing on where you’re taking him, his cock shining with your juices each time he pulls out.

“Sh-shut up… fast-er!” You cry out, voice breaking when his thrusts become harder, the force of his hips hitting your ass making you moan louder.

“Telling me to shut up now? You’re beginning to act real bossy…” He mutters underneath his breath but does as you ask, lifting his body weight off of you to thrust faster.

Your eyes begin to roll back, your grip on the sheets releasing and immediately flying to his back, your pretty manicured nails digging crescents into his shoulders. He’s panting above you, hair sticking to his forehead as he watches you only get louder.

He lets a whimper escape his lips from your nails scratching at his back, leaning down close to you again. He nudges at your lips, but you’re too lost to comprehend that he wants a kiss as your mouth is left open from moaning and gasping.

Both of your bodies rock back and forth on your bed, the sheets barely hanging from the edge as he presses his lips to yours, muffling your desperate whines. You can’t keep up with his desperate kisses, letting him take control of your entire body and mind.

“You’re close,” He points out, noticing the way your pussy pulsates around his thick cock, each drag of him inside of you pushing you closer to the edge. You nod, your nails scratching up into the nape of his neck as you pull him down for another kiss.

It’s nasty and messy, and it only makes you whine desperately into his mouth as you cum on his cock. You throw your head back, but Sunghoon chases your lips like he’s chasing his own orgasm, his pounding only making you overly sensitive.

You feel him pull out all the way, planning to cum elsewhere but your whines of protest stops him. “Wh—no, no! Inside, please..” you bite the inside of your cheek, and he can never say no when you look absolutely delirious for his cock and cum inside you, chest heaving up and down with fucked out eyes.

He curses underneath his breath, quickly inserting himself back inside you. “Shit.. you’re so hot,” he mumbles, brows knitting together as he picks up his speed again to reach his orgasm. He buries his face back into your neck, his moans so close to your ear that it makes your cunt squeeze around him, arousal still pooling in your lower half.

You scratch at his scalp, his moans becoming louder as he approaches his climax, your cunt gushing around him and the wet squelches letting his hot cum coat your insides. You feel so disgustingly satisfied, moaning along with him as he pants into your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that in silence, catching your breaths, but Sunghoon is quick to recover as he lifts himself off of you. Your eyes are droopy, mind clouding with sleep, sleep, sleep. He smiles softly at you, watching you eventually fall into slumber.

He gets dressed, making his way into your bathroom and grabbing a towel to lay down between your legs so that his cum doesn’t make a mess of your sheets (like he doesn’t need to wash it later for you anyway). He cleans you up slowly, carefully maneuvering your limbs to not wake you up.

He puts your blanket over your naked body and he brushes the hair out of your face, his touch lingers for a second before leaving and getting into his car. He sighs when he gets into the driver's seat, closing his eyes as he mentally reprimands himself.

It’s his job to keep you in check. He’s getting paid to ensure that you act well and to not get distracted when working. But now, it seems like he’s the one getting distracted.

#enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen #kpop smut

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @inej-ghafa-deserves-the-world @thatdelusionalnerd

If anyone wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's ptsd references, anxiety, violence references, blood, wounds, and fear of losing loved ones

Note: Oh my goodness we only have the epilogue left to go... this is insane I can't believe we've reached the end

AO3 link: Daughter of the Rain and Snow - Chapter 145 - She_posts_nerdy_stuff - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 144 - Kaz

At least the Crow Club was back in working order. Beyond that things weren’t looking at their best. Kaz knew from Anika and Pim’s reports that the damage was mostly repaired and they’d reopened the closed wing a few months ago, but he also knew from the income reports Yara had been sending him  that they’d taken a hit. Her projections looked sunnier for next month, but Kaz wasn’t feeling particularly confident. There was a nervous energy about the Slat when he walked in, still as rowdy as it usually was in these early hours of the morning but with a slightly frantic edge. Kaz had known his extended absence would take a toll, but he’d tried to keep in control of what he could. 

“I assume there are rumours going round about -”

“Your mysterious disappearance? Yeah,” said Anika, “We’re treading water trynna cover up for you being missing,”

“Anyone get wise?”

“To the fact you weren’t here or to what you were actually up to?”

Kaz shot her an unamused glare. Clearly he needed to stop telling Anika up to 50% of the truth, because she was getting too good at picking up what the rest of it was. 

“I don’t think so,” she said, “Not with any proof you weren’t around. Few people here and there are convinced you’re dead,”

That didn’t particularly surprise him.

“Any attempts at territory grabs since you last wrote?”

“Liddies are still riled up, but nothing new except a pretty hollow looking threat from Black Tips,”

Kaz sighed. They weren’t staying in Ketterdam for long, he’d have to get through work quickly and make a few choice appearances if he could spare the time.

As far as Kaz and Inej knew, the plan was for them to drop in on Jesper and Wylan for the afternoon, then go to the house overnight whilst Nina stayed on the Geldstradt. They didn’t have the space to have her at the house by the harbour - especially when Alyssa was staying with them too - and anyway she would only be kept up all night by Sadja. But apparently Jesper and Wylan had other plans, as soon as they were through the door it was all but a demand they at least stay there the first night. They’d even set up a room for Alyssa upstairs, so she was close if Inej or Sadja needed her.

“How are you feeling?” Kaz had asked, watching Inej’s hand find the railing on the porch of the Hendriks house.

“I’m fine,”

Kaz shook his head, looking down at Sadja.

“Once you can talk I’m going to teach you to shout at your Mama every time she says that,” he told her, gently readjusting the sling in hopes of helping her settle.

Nina laughed.

Sadja had done well on the boat, Kaz thought, for a stubborn two month old who had never travelled further than the Grand Palace until a couple of weeks ago, but she hadn’t slept well last night and still didn’t seem to be interested in sleeping now.

“Kaz, really,” said Inej, shaking her head, “I’m okay. I’m just tired,”

Kaz nodded, but he and Nina had shared a brief glance. Inej rang the doorbell and Sadja immediately jutted out her bottom lip in indignation; for a moment Kaz thought she was going to cry but she settled again, still looking a little grumpy. He readjusted his cane so that he could remain balanced whilst he offered her his finger, and once she’d acknowledged it he gently rubbed his hand up and down her tiny tummy.

“Do you not like doorbells, Sadja?”

“I think it’s quite normal for babies not to like loud noises, Kaz,” said Nina, peering over the sling, “You’re okay, aren’t you Sadja? You’re a brave little muffin,”

“Brave little muffin?” asked Kaz.

“Hey, that is just about the highest compliment I’ve ever given anyone,”

“Well, you are brave aren’t you Sadja? You’re just like your Mama,”

She wriggled a little in the sling, as though she was trying to look up at him properly, and smiled. Kaz glowed. 

The door had barely been opened when they were met by the practically shouted words:

“Where’s my niece?”

“Well, hello to you too, Jesper,” said Inej, sharing his soft laugh.

She leaned into the arm he offered and he kissed her on the cheek, ushering her over the doorstep. Kaz followed, nodding at Jesper.

“Saints, I’ve missed you,” said Jesper, hugging Inej again.

“Oh, I’ve missed you too,”

Nina cleared her throat, glaring teasingly at Jesper. He threw an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve missed you too, darling, obviously. And I guess I missed you Kaz,”

“Always with the compliments,”

Where’s Wylan?” asked Inej.

“Couldn’t get out of a meeting,” Jesper replied, shaking his head, “He won’t be long. Now, where’s this little Sadja you’ve been withholding from me?”

“Withholding-? She’s only been alive two months - and you were in Novyi Zem for one and a half of them,”

“Withholding,” Jesper repeated

Inej laughed. Kaz gently scooped Sadja out of her sling and into his arms, rocking her for a moment before he passed her to Inej so Jesper could lean over and greet her. He looked like he was about to burst with glee.

“Oh my goodness, you two she’s so beautiful. Aren’t you? Yes you are, yes you are,”

Jesper looked up at Kaz and Inej, grinning.

“She’s wonderful,”

“She most certainly is,” Kaz smiled, pushing the door to behind him before they walked together towards the living room, “It’s good to see you, Jes,”

“You too. And honestly you with a baby is quite possibly both the funniest and cutest thing I have ever seen, so thank you for that,”

Nina snorted. Kaz glared at them both. 

“And how are you?” Jesper had asked Inej, as they sat on the sofa together.

It was about twenty minutes later and Wylan had just got back, all apologies for being late and overjoyed to see them all again. He was now sitting in between Inej and Kiada with Sadja in his arms, smiling.

“Well, I haven’t slept in about two months,” Inej smiled, leaning her head onto Jesper’s shoulder, “But other than that I’m doing pretty well. How are you? - How was Novyi Zem?”

“I’m good, we’re all pretty good at the minute, actually. And Novyi Zem was lovely, good to see my Da, and everyone did a very good job,” he squeezed Aimee’s hand lightly, from where she was perching on the arm of the sofa next to him, “There were a few moments where we thought we’d have to come home early - that was always in the plan as an option, if anyone needed it - but we ended up staying the whole time,”

“How’s Colm?” asked Nina, leaning forwards to pick her coffee up from the table.

The conversation floated on, and Kaz had drifted in and out of paying attention to it as he kept his eyes on Sadja. She started wriggling uncomfortably and Wylan passed her back to Inej, then a moment passed before she started crying. 

“Is she alright?” asked Kaz.

“She’s just hungry,” said Inej, looking at Kaz in a way that meant calm down, she’s a baby, she’s going to cry, you do not need to worry as she stood up and gently rocked Sadja against her chest, whispering to her in Suli, “I’ll take her upstairs,”

At some point, Kaz wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been, it was only him, Nina, and Jesper still sitting in the living room. Focus had switched freely: the trip to Novyi Zem - two weeks with Colm followed by a month and a half through in Weddle and Shriftport, then another two weeks with Colm - Kiada had struggled with the boat, Aimee had struggled on the farm, Kiada has struggled in Weddle; news on the Ravkans and their new little prince and princess, twins about three months older than Sadja; Clemmie Boscht had started renting an apartment in the city and came to the house to share roast dinner with the family once a month; updates on something Kaz had forgotten to pay attention to as he was wondering how long Inej and Sadja had been gone and if he should go upstairs to find them. Now Nina was asking about wedding plans - the original date should have been last month, but it hadn’t been set in stone when Kaz and Inej first went to Ravka so Jesper and Wylan had decided to postpone and visit Jesper’s father instead of him coming out to them. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesper was saying, “Nothing will ever make up for the fact that Kaz Brekker got married before I did,”

Nina flopped against the back cushions of the sofa.

“Yeah, it’s a real blow to the ego isn’t it?”

“Aren’t you two just the height of comedy?” said Kaz drily.

“To be fair, Jes,” Nina added, “I think we were all surprised you weren’t the first to get married. I mean how long had you two known each other before you moved in, two months?”

“No, well I really only joke,” said Jesper, glancing briefly at the door and lowering his voice, “Wylan told me ages ago he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get married, after everything with his parents he just kinda… lost faith in it,”

Jesper had told Kaz about it at the time. It was years ago, around the time of the Van Eck trial, and Wylan was having an unsurprisingly bad time of it. He said he’d burst into tears and told Jesper that it had been evil of him to trap him in a relationship that would never go anywhere, and that he could leave if he wanted to and Wylan would understand. Apparently Jesper had stared at him for almost a full minute, and then said:

“Wy, you’re seventeen,”

“Well, clearly,” Kaz had said, “You handled that well,”

“I helped him afterwards!” Jepser had cried defensively, “That was just my first thought,”

Now Kaz sat behind his desk at the Slat, flicking through the endless pile of papers laying in wait and watching the hands move on his timepiece. Almost five bells. He wanted to be back by six.

Sadja had woken up not long before three bells, screaming loud enough to bring the entire house down. Kaz fumbled in the dark, searching for his cane, before Inej turned on the gas lights and handed it to him, smiling and shaking her head. They sat next to each other on the side of the mattress as Sadja nursed, and for about half an hour afterwards Kaz was still rocking her slowly whilst Inej lowered the lights and lay back down. Sadja seemed on the verge of settling back to sleep and Kaz stood to return her to the cradle next to the bed, only for her to immediately start wailing again.

“Well I hope you’re not still hungry,” he said softly in Suli, giving her a gente bounce “I think Mama’s asleep,”

She flailed one of her tiny fists into the air and it whacked lightly against Kaz’s chest.

“Not bad form,” he told her, “But you need more strength behind it if you want to do real damage. We’ll work on that when you’re older. What can we do to help you sleep now though, hm?”

Sadja wriggled in his arm and Kaz moved to sit on one of the armchairs so he could set down his cane and support her more comfortably. 

“I don’t have anything new to read to you,” he said, “But I could tell you a story if you’d like,”

There was a pause broken only by Sadja’s impatient cries, before Inej’s soft voice came from the darkness on the other side of the room:

“You know the whole idea of us using one language each with her whilst she's still learning kind of depends on you speaking to her in Kerch, right?”

Kaz looked up.

“Inej? I thought you were asleep,”

“Kaz, if you think anyone could fall asleep through this then I have serious concerns about your hearing. And, again, you’re supposed to speak in Kerch,”

“I’m still not convinced that’s going to work,” he replied, “Isn’t she just going to hear us using both with each other anyway?”

Inej groaned.

“It’s three in the morning, Kaz, can we talk about this later?”

He laughed softly, nodding though he wasn’t sure if she’d see in the dark. He’d known that he needed to go to the Slat - the last word from Anika and Pim had been concerningly vague -  but he could stay here a little while yet, couldn’t he? What harm would it do, just to stay here for a little longer? He sighed.

“You need to go, don’t you?”

He didn’t know how she did that.

“It can wait until tomorrow,”

“You can’t,” said Inej, quietly, “Go on. I’ll get her settled, just don’t be long, okay?”

“Never,”

He really needed to stop watching the clock, or he wouldn’t get anything done and have to bully himself into staying longer. It was a good while past five bells when he left, ignoring the shouts for attention that followed him from the crowd. The Hendriks house was mostly still sleeping, though Wylan was unsurprisingly up and in the kitchen making coffee by the time Kaz arrived at six bells. Inej was awake but she was still upstairs, not long dressed and part way through brushing her hair when Kaz knocked softly on the door. She opened it slowly, pressing a finger to her lips as he slipped inside.

“Sadja’s asleep,”

Kaz stood over the cradle for a moment, watching her. She really was perfect. Inej appeared next to him, her arm slipping around his waist once he’d nodded confirmation. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“She already looks like you,” she whispered.

Kaz shook his head.

“She’s beautiful. That’s all you,”

Inej shook her head then, her hand finding his and slipping beneath the rim so her fingers brushed his wrist. Kaz’s heart leapt, thinking of holding her on the floor almost a year ago, a knife in her gut and her blood soaking over both of them. He swallowed and she felt him tense, starting to pull away to give him space. His fingers tightened over hers, holding her to him. 

“We’ve not…” she hesitated, “We’ve not talked about a plan for where to live. For what to do next,”

Kaz had been avoiding the conversation, because he didn’t actually know what he was going to say. But it was a year ago when he couldn’t tell her everything he’d thought he should be able to say by now - 

Their happiness, together. In Kerch, in Ravka, they could move to the permafrost in Fjerda for all he cared. He would carve a life for her in the face of a mountain, if that was what she wanted.

- and so much had changed since then. He should be able to tell her that now. And he did.

Inej turned and leaned her face up towards his, glowing in the soft dancing light of dawn leaking through the window, her dark eyes shimmering. She lifted a hand up to cup his cheek, and slowly they leaned into each other. Their foreheads pressed against each other, Kaz’s hand slipped down Inej’s back, and their lips met in the warmth of spring and joy and a family that for so long Kaz had convinced himself he didn’t want, because he never thought he’d be able to find it. 

The entire world was golden.

#Should I post the epilogue tonight too or leave y'all with one last bit of suspense??? #(it's already written btw) #maya olsen oc #no beta read #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #kanej #kanej fanfiction #kanej fic #kanej supremacy #kaz x inej #kanej kiss #kanej fluff #kanej baby #grishaverse oc #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse fandom #soc f #soc fanfiction #soc fandom #soc fic #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fandom

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #lauryn hill #fugees #damon albarn #blur #90s music #tournament

[kpop]

K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

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