#i only listen to two songs by black math but i listen to them a lot...

[forlix]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying? 

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile. 

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES.  From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket. 

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge. 

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being. 

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair. 

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each. 

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee felix #felix #stray kids #skz #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff #felix imagines #felix fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #felix scenarios #*oneshot #*writing #IT'S DONEEEE IT IS FINALLY DONEE #i hope you like reading as much as i loved writing it! #i'm ngl i'm quite nervous because this is the first full-length fic i've posted on this blog so #any and all feedback would be so so appreciated! much love <3

[lil-tachyon]

For the last couple weeks I've been drawing logos / designs for local-ish (mostly NJ, some PA and NY) bands as warmups in the morning. Here's what I've come up with! Massive post below the break explaining each logo + where to find each band and listen to their music.

Teenage Halloween- a staple of New Jersey basements for probably about a decade now and finally getting wider recognition in the last couple years. Pop punk / power pop with a killer horn section. First time I saw them was in New Brunswick playing with Walter Etc. and Blowout. They played a killer cover "Build Me Up Buttercup" and my wife got a black eye in the pit. Recommended tracks: "Brain Song," "666," "Clarity." Their first EP is on a separate bandcamp page btw, check it out here it's great.

Sweet Pill - They will call themselves a Philly band but in my heart they'll always be from Glassboro. Definitely one of the more recognizable names on this list. Emo revival - early stuff is more twinkly, more recent stuff is heavier. All of it's great. Recommended tracks "Nephew," "High Hopes."

Shark Club - Central Jersey's finest. I'm very biased because I actually know these dudes and they did the music for my wedding. Some of the best pop punk you'll hear and the nicest people you'll meet. Recommended tracks: "Game Theory," "Bill Murray," "Heavens to Betsy."

Rest Ashore - My favorite band for the last (oh God I'm old now) eight years. From gut-wrenching emo ballads to virtuoso math-rock instrumentals they do it all. One time I got to sing vocals on "Lucy's Theme" at a house show- thank you Erica! Recommended tracks: "Hjarta," "Chinese Opera," "Devotion," "Soyuz Sweetheart." Too many bangers to name honestly, just deep dive their discography.

Morus Alba - First band I ever went to see at a house show and still one of my absolute favorites. Their music feels like the bridge between the best pitchfork, /mu/ alt rock bands and high energy basement emo. I mean that as a compliment and I hope it comes off as one lol. I should note that since 2019 Morus Alba has morphed from a band into an experimental hip-hop project so later releases sound radically different and basically disconnected from the earlier stuff. Also my favorite release from them, Live at Isabelle's, has been scrubbed from the internet but if you'd like the files just email me. Recommended tracks: "Skyscraper," "Human Resources," "The Goodnight Waltz."

Have a Good Season - another Jersey mainstay that's still going strong. Emo revival in their earlier releases, now with more 70s power pop influences in their newer stuff. See them live, they put on a fantastic show and usually play some great covers in addition to their original music. HaGS guys if you're reading this, please put your version of "Since You've Been Gone" online, I'm begging you. Recommended tracks: "Joseph / Shel Silverstein," (you have to listen to them together for the drop, so good) , "Gum, "Gleaux / Scab." Also, frontman Nic Palermo interviewed me once.

Elephant Jake - If you see any of these bands live make it EJ, they put on such a damn good show. Electrifying indie punk from the Empire State. Recommended tracks: "F.D.C." "Sarah Moyer," "Goodness to Honest," and of course you gotta learn "Sebastien Bauer" for the singalongs.

Blind Lion - Sadly one of the greats that we lost along the way. Defunct since about 2017. I only got to see them once but it was a great performance. Alongside their own stuff they played some killer covers of "Bad Moon Rising" and "Moonage Daydream." I had trouble doing a logo design for them because I actually really like the composition, if not the "Ed Hardy-ness," of their existing logo so what you see here are two separate attempts, neither of which feels entirely satisfying to me. Frontperson Larry Flately currently plays in Nematode and also handled production of Bradley Gardens joke hiphop group The Breakfast Boiz under the moniker "DJ Ova EZ." Recommended tracks: "Brumous," "Dinner."

Fighting Seasons - A band that I sadly found out about too late (via a sticker under the bridge in my town which has since been painted over). 2010s pop punk that packs a helluva punch, especially considering that I'm pretty sure the members were high schoolers for most of the band's existence. I think some members may have gone on to form Sawce (FFO Chon, Polyphia, that type of music) but I can't remember where I read/heard that so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Recommended tracks: "Fighting Seasons," "Oil on Canvas"

Milkmen- Another fallen giant, officially disbanded in 2019. Like Morus Alba, they played the very first house show I attended and their few releases remain on constant rotation in my home. Used to put on a great show and were one of the bands I always thought would make it big until suddenly they weren't around anymore. Frontman Ben Thieberger contributed guitar and vocals to Covid quarantine project Kin if you're looking for a bit of an extra fix but beyond that I don't know what these guys are up to these days, sadly. Recommended tracks: "Ramus," "Johnny Dangerously," "how sieves catch breeze," "K.O.T.H."

Stand and Wave - New York (now Philly) pop punkers delivering instant dopamine hits with every track. Another great live act, see them with EJ if you can! They often play shows together. Recommended tracks: "Convos," "Mrs. Dash," "Splashton Kutcher," "Michael Collins."

My Chemical Romance - You know who they are. While I was drawing all these other logos I ran a poll on Patreon to decide which famous New Jersey band should also be graced with a drawing from me. MCR won the poll by a hefty margin so unfortunately you won't get to see me do an illegible black metal take on Hoboken's Yo La Tengo. I ended up doing two versions: the one with the halo is the first, the one with the bats was the second. I tried to do something kind of thin and elegant with the first one and I don't think it's terrible but I also wasn't quite satisfied with it. For the 2nd attempt I tried to lean into the kind of pulpy, almost horror punk aesthetic of early MCR and I think that one looks better even if it's less original.

Anyway if you took the time to read through all this, thank you very much! And please support these bands! Also If any of the links aren't working please let me know.

-Logan

#emo #pop punk #new jersey #band logo #logo design #punk #my chemical romance #mcr #emo revival

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝟎'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mention of one slur, (that is reclaimable don't come for me twitter), homophobia, death, etc

↳ song: american pie—don mclean

masterlist!

• Compared to the old giants that were London and Rome, Derry was an infant in terms of age

• But it didn't feel that way. The whole town had this sort of tint to it, like the stain of coffee on white paper—or the quality of an old polaroid that had been stuffed away and forgotten

• You had lived there most of your life. Gone to Derry Elementary, Derry Middle, would go on to attend Derry High, and would probably travel on to the closest college you could find to the area—unless something drastically changed that, of course

• It was almost like the whole place had a grip on its residents. And it wasn't like the comforting grip of your mother's hand as she led you through the grocery store. It was a harsher one. A cold and clamy grip, holding you tightly in place until you rotted away working a minimum wage job with no future in sight

• So thank god you had stumbled across the losers in your last year of middle school and changed just about everything

• It had been the last week of school when you had stupidly picked a fight with the biggest knothead in school and his gang of pimple faced idiots, figuring that if you were going to die anyway, might as well do it young

• Your school books had gone sprawling across the freshly waxed school hallway one fateful afternoon in May, the disaster courtesy of Derrys biggest doucuebag Henry Bowers

• In fact, you had told him he was such a thing to his face, which would be the reason you were currently being subjected to the pleasure of watching as Henry and his goons ripped up all of your school papers in front of everyone

• Math homework, eat your heart out

• You didn't, however, expect a stuttering voice to speak up from your left not long after watching the science paper you had worked so hard on get ripped to shreds

• "Guh-guh-guh-get fu-fucked Bowers!" A lanky kid spat out from your left, drawing most people's attention over to his blazing brown eyes instead of Henry's ugly mud colored ones

• You recognized your knight in shining armor, so to speak, as the infamous stuttering Bill Denbrough. He wasn't an unfamiliar face to you—in fact, you were pretty sure the two of you had homeroom together. But until that moment you'd never given him a second thought beyond asking to borrow a pencil

• Bill wasn't alone, either. Three more kids stood idly behind him, each one looking more anxious than the last. You'd later learn all their names to be Stan, Eddie, and Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier—the man of a hundered voices as he'd introduce himself. But right then, they were just more people to add to this already overcrowded shitshow

• "Muh-my buh-buh-bad Billy." Henry mocked Bill's stutter poorly, crossing his eyes crudely while he did it. "Duh-did I mess with one of yuh-your fag fruh-fruh-fruh-friends?"

• The shrill chorus of giggles that his friends let out at his words were like nails on a chalkboard to you

• "Takes one to know one." Richie had mummbled under his breath sourly, pushing the thick glasses he wore up his nose anxiously. The only people who heard him couldn't help but break up into a fit of sudden giggles—who of which just so happened to be you and Bill

• Both of you were found sporting black eyes the next day

• Ever since that odd school day, you had found yourself spending more and more time with each of them

• Riding bikes with Bill in his street as you got left in the dust by him and Silver, listening as Eddie rambled on nervously about all of the weird sicknesses he had gotten, furiously smashing buttons on arcade games in an attempt to beat Richie at least once, helping Stan organize all of his comics by color and alphabetical order—all became a part of your summer routine

• You quickly became a part of the losers club. Another peice to the odd puzzle you all made together. And you'd be lying if you didn't say it felt damn good

• It was only after Ben and the others showed up that things began to get both better and worse

• For starters, you had begun to see red balloons and dead kids everywhere—a detail that would later become a much bigger issue

• But you also found yourself making three entire new friends, which including Stan, Eddie, Richie and Bill, was the most you'd ever had

• Hot summer evenings down in the barrens and, eventually, the clubhouse now had a new sense of comradery to it

• You enjoyed talking with Beverly about certain book series the both of you kept up with and what songs she could play on the piano. Asking Mike about all the adventures he had gone on after hard days of farm work became a highlight of your Saturdays. Pouring over books in the library with Ben quickly became one of your favorite activities, the two of you sharing recommendations with each other. Even the librarian eventually got old of the two of you whispering excitedly to each other about story lines and character development

• Occasionally Bill or Richie would bring another kid down to the barrens to play with. It would be fun, but you all were thinking the same thing throught it all—that they were not a part of the club. That title was reserved for only the eight of you. And it would stay that way

• Together, all of you would eventually have to beat a common enemy together, sacrificing parts of yourself with it. But for now, you were content to watch as sticky syrup from popsicle sticks dripped down into your hands while you all walked to the movies, laughing about god knows what, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered but each other

#im gay i can say fag dont fight me #it #it 2017 #it 2017 x reader #it x reader #bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x reader #stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #mike hanlon #mike hanlon x reader #ben hanscom #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh #beverly marsh x reader #the losers club #the losers club x reader #x reader #headcanons

[khalewren]

Sonic character music HCs

 I’ve been obsessed with both the Sonic the hedgehog series and Music in general for over a year now, so i figured i could combine those interests in a fun way. I’m gonna describe what kind of music i personally think the characters would like/listen to. And just so you know, this is just my thoughts on it, i’m not saying im right or anything. And while i am trying to match these genuinely, it’s also not something i’m taking fully seriously. I’m just doin this for fun :)

I also suggest looking up some of the terms/artists/genres i use here if you’re not already familiar with them! Might help you understand my reasoning a bit more, and who knows, you might even find a new favourite artist 👀

Oh, and one more thing. While i am of course going to go off of music i’m familiar with, i’ll try to avoid assigning characters music that i like just because its music that i like. That being said, i will of course, be just a tad bit biased. Anyways, time to start with the blue boy himself!!

Sonic

Sonic is somewhat easy. Seeing as how his main thing is standing up against tyranny, i imagine he’d definitely be a fan of punk. At first i thought of pop punk specifically, due to its high energy, but i feel like Sonic would find it a bit too commercial. Same thing with skate punk. I feel like anarcho-punk could be a little more up his alley? Maybe something like chumbawumba.

Oh, and personal bias time: I think he would like King gizzard and the Lizard wizard due to the themes of enviromentalism.

Example of Sonic’s music taste

Tails

Now, i’m completely split between two different paths here. The first option is EDM. Just overall music that sounds electronic, maybe dance, i dunno. The second option however, is one that i personally prefer: Just like, music with weirdass time signatures and polyrhythms n shit. Math rock, Prog, that kinda stuff. Specific bands i’m thinking about is Tool, King crimson, Black midi, maybe even KGLW (again, personal bias). Tails would think music theory is fucking dope and would be OBSESSED with this kinda music lmao.

Example of Tails’ music taste

Knuckles

Now, this is the rare instance that i feel justified in being biased, because his level themes in sa2 make me believe that knuckles is a hiphop head. Specifically, instrumental hip hop. I think he’d be a big fan of J Dilla’s style of hip hop production in general, with the soft fuzzy feel of songs like The light. Otherwise i feel like he likes some boom bap, like Illmatic.

Example of Knuckles’ music taste

Amy

I honestly feel like Amy is the kinda person who enjoys like, any type of music? Like this gal will listen to some chill folk music and then go directly to hardcore industrial rock lmao. I think her favourite genre is pop though. First artist that pops into mind is Carly rae jepsen, not only because she makes great pop music, but also since her songs are often about love, which i feel fits Amy pretty well. She’d probably like something more off-kilter like art pop too. She LOVES Björk, i feel confident in saying that.

Example of Amy’s music taste

Shadow

I’ve noticed that this one is quite varied (and if you’re curious, i don’t really mind the whole taylor swift thing, but i also don’t really care for it either), but i want to bring up a genre that i haven’t seen anyone else suggest Shadow being a fan of: Shoegaze. I think he would find the whole noisy, dreamlike, nearly overwhelming feeling of shoegaze calming. I don’t know, there’s just something about Shoegaze that makes me feel like it fits shadow perfectly. Only bands i really know are Slowdive and My bloody valentine, but i still feel confident in my opinion.

I also feel like the idea of him enjoying indie folk (something like the mountain goats) but would not be caught DEAD listening to it is really funny. The day that rouge finds out will not be a happy day for anyone in a ten mile radius.

Example of Shadow’s music taste

Rouge

Now, there’s a very easy answer here. Jazz. But i feel like rouge would also enjoy stuff like Soul and funk. She’d also check out music Shadow listens to, both to annoy him and out of genuine interest. Not much else i have to say here tbh.

Example of Rouge’s music taste

Omega

Harsh noise.

Silver

Similarly to Amy, i think Silver enjoys practically anything and everything, and is also super open to trying new stuff. If he has a preference though, i think he enjoys dance music? Or just electronic stuff in general. Daft punk comes to mind, specifically Discovery.

Example of Silver’s music taste

Blaze

I feel like Blaze is someone who simply hasn’t been able to listen to a lot of music yet? Her friends (particularly Silver and Amy) have given her a bunch of recommendations, and while she doesn’t have a preference yet, she has enjoyed some of the stuff that they have played.

Vector

On the complete contrary to Blaze, Vector is a supreme Music nerd. You name an artist or album, he is at the very least aware of them. He’s the kinda guy who will talk about some super obscure folk album from the 70′s and refer to it as if its some kind of holy grail. It’s great. He would have a vinyl collection, but due to the chaotix’s financial situation, he settles for CDs instead. Again, he enjoys practically anything, but i feel like his favourite genre is progrock. He also remixes music for fun.

And thats it!! I’ll try to think of more that i can add in a reblog, but for now, this is all that i can think of. Again, this is just my opinion, but i’d love to hear some of yalls thoughts!! why you think im correct or wrong or however!!

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic music #tails the fox #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #silver the hedgehog #blaze the cat #vector the crocodile #khale rants about music

[prosciuttulipa]

RAAAAAAH i want a match ngl LMAO

Jjk match because Im a fucking simp, and a guy bcs I am in fact a straight woman thanks

I'm a big nerd. Like, a very big nerd. I do math for fun and I am not ashamed at all when I interrupt someone to correct them (I have autism and ADHD, how could you tell?)

I'm relatively closed off, and most of the time, insecure. I'm shy and I barely ever make the first move (unless I've had a couple of drinks or a lot of eyeliner). I think what people most define me as is the "old soul, young body). I'm like the mom of the group, though I am absolutely reckless when there's another mom in the group, since it takes the responsibility away from me.

I hate going out, and it's really hard to get me to go to the beach, for example. I think my best quality personality-wise is that I'm down to earth and realistic about my goals. A problem is probably how much self-doubt I have, since people constantly tell me I am capable of achieving more than I think I can. I don't settle for seconds, but I'm not too excited when I rech first, because there's always a new competition.

Oh yeah, I'm competitive. Very.

I'm a pessimist, though I like to say it's realism, because why be positive, hype myself up, only for it to go wrong and the disappointment hurt me? As I said, emotionally closed off.

My personality is the infamous black cat, and I think (though I'm not sure), that a golden retriever boy is what would fit me best. (even though I simp for other black cat guys)

For hobbies, I'm boring, though I do have many. I play the guitar, do martial arts (krav maga), draw, sing, write absolutely filthy smut, and, most important of all: do math and study. Yeah, my main hobby is studying.

I'm not sure how I show my love? I don't, usually. I can love someone unconditionally and be absolutely lovesick, but only after a very heavy emotional session, may it be a fight or drinks, will I tell soemone how much they mean to me. I spent the last four years with my best friend, and only after a day's worth of drinking and crying did I tell her how much she meant to me.

I'm a bit icky with physical touch, but if I trust them, I'll let them cling to me. Initially push people away and only after knowing them do I let them hug me, kiss me, cuddle me. I am awful when dealing with compliments, and I cannot take a gift. So probably quality time is my love-receiving language when generally speaking. A boyfriend/husband would probably work with physical touch and words of affirmation, though.

I dont think there's any big turn-off or turn-on in relationships? Maybe not giving me enough attention and helping me emotionally, because I'm easily falling into insecurity, feeling like I'm not enough.

I have like medium curly dark hair and dark eyes. Eyebags, and a lot of moles all over my face. My body is relatively fit? I have a bit of fat ngl but I also have muscles. A bit of a tummy and thicc thighs (they do, in fact, save lives) that double the size when I sit (insecurity alert!) I'm pale, though I am a mixed baby. I dress in all-black most of the time, and all the color variations are like red or dark blue. (I AM NOT EMO). I wear eyeliner from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep and I have pierced ears. I also plan on getting nip piercings and plan on getting

I think i need more songs to listen to, so I'm going with the three songs he associates wit me.

Congratulations! You have been matched with...

Choso Kamo

When people see you and Choso together, they immediately assume that you're just another average emo couple, quick to place stereotypes. But under the heavy eyeliner and dark clothes, are two people who are just trying to figure out life in their own way.

Choso is fascinated by your contradictions: insecure yet quick to correct others, pessimistic but burning with a competitive drive for more. Where some people may see indecision, he sees something much more real and human in comparison to the single-minded characters he's met during his time alive. Living is hard, has experienced it for himself, so he doesn't shun you for your contrasting perspectives. Instead, he wants to learn about the world alongside you, unpicking the way you think, wondering about your insecurities. Although he's been through a lot, there's something inherently innocent and simplistic in the way Choso sees the world. If you're an old soul in a young body, then he's a young soul in an old one. Perhaps by meeting somewhere in the middle, the two of you will get closer to unravelling the mystery that is life.

Choso doesn't mind that you don't like going out, but you often find yourself tagging along as he explores the world in small ways. A trip to the convenience store may as well be a museum visit, with the way he asks you about the products, eyeing them with confusion. He also admires the fact that you study math—to dedicate yourself to understanding anything in such depth is no small feat—and he's happy to sit next to you while you work, occasionally asking questions about your interest in the subject. His most common form of affection is just leaning his head against your shoulder, watching silently as you work.

Dates with Choso are pretty laid back, since he's happy to take the lead on whatever makes you comfortable. It doesn't matter to him where you two are. For him, understanding your mind (and falling in love with the way you think, the way you are) is what matters to him the most.

The Matchmaker's Gift:

Contrary to popular belief, Choso's music taste is rather soft. This song reminds him of the inherent dependence that comes with being connected.

Offering you this song with a curious tilt of his head, Choso asks you if this is how your pessimism feels like.

This is the song Choso uses to confess to you. His feelings are one of the few things he has to his name, and he wants to share them with you.

#—playing matchmaker! #—prosciuttulipa events. #jjk #jujtusu kaisen #jjk matchup #jjk matchups

[cityandking]

photo album, mixtape, psyche, shooting star for minah, vesper, & caes!

tyyyyy!! // oc ask meme

photo album: describe one of your OCs’ favorite memories.

MINAH — answered! VESPER — sitting in solas' study talking about some semi-obscure magical theory and being delighted by the way solas approached it from his (assumed) hedgemage perspective and how that reframing added something she'd missed in her circle education. dorian, overhearing them, had leaned over the banister from the library above and was so insistent on getting in on the discussion that he was halfway through a lecture before solas asked if perhaps he'd care to join them for tea and scones, or if he was too loathe to abandon his pulpit. they'd been at it so late that leliana had dinner sent over, and vesper had just been satisfied and thrilled and grateful, which were novel and delightful things to feel in the middle of the war and the chaos. CAES — also answered!

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like.

MINAH — 1. bad blood - bastille (all this bad blood here / won't you let it dry? / it's been cold for years / won't you let it lie?) 2. part of me - noah kahan (even through the pain, I can't recall your face / just the ache of knowing everything was gonna change / I got so close to love with you, my dear / but I don't miss you / I miss the way you made me feel) 3. final girl - chvrches (telling all the tales took time that I just do not have / sifting further through the wreckage, I think you just have to laugh) 4. you can run - adam jones (truth gonna come out, someday / it's gonna wipe that smile right off your face) 5. liar - the arcadian wild (my life’s become this grand game of deception / my mind’s ignored all my heart’s good intentions) VESPER — 1. dear doubt - michael schulte (dear doubt, you wore out a path to my door / and it's needless to say that there's no way that I want you here) 2. make them gold - chvrches (we are made up of our longest days / we are falling but not alone / we will take the best parts of ourselves / and make them gold) 3. son - sleeping at last (so I will try, try, try to breathe / 'til it turns to muscle memory / I'm only steady on my knees / but one day, I'll stand on my own two feet) 4. woodblock - joe gil (I don't have to take my burdens home / I don't have to do this on my own) 5. be yourself - harrison storm (take on the colors on / and fire fight the winter storms) CAES — 1. everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears (all for freedom and for pleasure / nothing ever lasts forever / everybody wants to rule the world) 2. forces of the unseen - cloud cult (I'm gonna make it through, you'll see / I swear I'll prove you wrong / you haven't seen the last of me / I am way too strong) 3. culling of the fold - the decemberists (listen up boy / and listen up girl / it's a shallow little trench / and it's giving off a stench / it's a shallow little world) 4. heat stroke - black math (you're breathin' hard but I still got a hundred miles / untouchable I live for this / I breathe for this / I bleed for this) 5. my songs know what you did in the dark - fall out boy (be careful making wishes in the dark / can't be sure when they've hit their mark / and besides in the mean-meantime I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart)

psyche: what’s their head space like? do they have any mental illnesses? how do they process difficult or emotional situations? what are their coping mechanisms?

MINAH — it... could be worse? like it's not great up there but she's perfectly functional. she just ignores some stuff (or obsesses over it too much, or swings wildly between the two). processing emotions is not really part of her skill set, so most of her coping mechanisms are rooted in avoidance, distraction, and deflection all piled together into a wobbly card tower of maladaptive techniques. but honestly, she's fine. VESPER — her headspace is mostly just bleak. kind of a constant churn of what-if and not-again. she's definitely got a bit of an undiagnosed anxiety thing going on, but she copes with it pretty well all things considered. her emotional processing works overtime to keep up with how much thinking she does all the damn time, and her coping mechanisms tend to be Working Even More. one of the upsides of the inquisition is that she finally gets a proper support network. CAES — pristine. you've never met anyone better at compartmentalizing. he's a horrible little man who doesn't know how to let go of a grudge but he will have it sorted by date, location, responsible parties, and weather at the time. I'm not sure he "processes" his emotions but he sure does Do Something About Them (exact revenge, be petty, plot people's downfalls, etc.)

shooting star: if your OC(s) could have one wish what would it be?

MINAH — she doesn't know. she's so torn about what she wants most that it would be almost impossible for her to choose just one thing to wish for. maybe to go back and do it all over again. maybe just to have all the facts, so at least she'd know what went wrong. VESPER — part of her would feel obligated to wish for things for other people—a stop to the fighting, peace in southern thedas, that sort of thing. I think probably in actually she'd wish for happiness, or the chance to talk to solas again—to try to change his mind, or just to understand why he's so determined to continue down this path. CAES — power, probably. the sort of power you can dangle over people's heads; the sort of power that works quiet and in secret and bends the world to your will. it's why he wanted so badly to join the magisterium—it may be cutthroat and bloody and twisted, but it's also the center of everything and a great place to be to get shit done.

#ty tabby!! #good lord it has been SO long since I did a deep dive into vesper's playlist #caes doesn't even Have a playlist which is why this took a million years #music musing #vesper #minah #caesonius

[lxmiko]

Can i have a matchup plz 🥺👉🏾👈🏾

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Zodiac: Capricorn

Appearance: 5’2 African American hourglass body type black curly wavy hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks wears glasses when necessary (driving or class i should wear them all the time only just started needing glasses im still getting used to wearing them)

Mbti: infj

Enneagram: 2w1

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward clumsy low self esteem low confidence sassy sarcastic soft spoken

Likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets and bread helping being a part of something bigger than myself

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others people who dont take others into consideration people i care about not caring for themselves not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests

Extra: i pace a lot i sing when im alone i talk to myself im a picky eater i have internalized identity crisis sometimes and i feel bad for fearing spiders (they’re just tryna live their best and not bothering anyone life but they’re so scary to me 😭)

Thank you good luck in school btw and dnt rush yourself or put too much pressure on yourself in school or writing ok you come first and im sure you’ll do great in both :) <3

matchup!!

—

note: this was due a long time ago as well as everything in my inbox but i will get to it i swear >:c

disclaimer: this is solely my opinion of which character i believe suits you the most based on the description you wrote!! sorry if it isn't who you thought it'd be ;;

matchup under the cut!

—

i match you with… ike eveland!!!

you two share a lot of interests! like reading, writing, anime, and singing :o

he would find your singing cute, and wouldn’t hesitate to join you in your song c:

and if you're shy about it, he's the kind of guy who'd smile endearing from behind the door as you're singing on the other side c:

ike too is very considerate of others, and because of your similarities, he’d probably try to “out-mother” you, just because he feels you deserve more care than he does

he definitely encourages and advocates for you to care more for yourself than others (even if he doesn't follow the same advice :c). put yourself first, he preaches!!!!

ike is the resident intellect of luxiem and im sure he would appreciate having another person who’d understand him ajd his struggles with the rest of luxiem’s trolling 😞

even if you two share the same anxieties and insecurities, he would always step up for you, and support you when you want to take the first step in anything c:

if you were up for it, he’d ask to have anime nights, where you two would settle on the couch and watch whichever anime piqued your interests

he would also want to read books together, whether it’d be one person reads it first and annotates it for the other, or the two of you have your separate copies and discuss it the next time you see each other

ike is also an introvert, and probably spends his own time producing and recording music, but he doesn’t mind the company of you sitting in his room with him while you both so your separate things

ike understands your thoughts on your fears, specifically spiders. the second he sees one in the house, it’s in a cup and brought outside, without you even knowing

and even if you do find out, he'll in mama mode right away, calming you down the best he can and keeping the bug out of sight as much as possible c:

—

#luxiem #nijien #nijisanji #nijisanji en #ike eveland x reader #matchups #ike eveland #ike

[unholyhelbig]

Ronancetober Day #8: Ronance Anthem

[A/N: If you haven't listened to Noah Kahan's Stick Season yet, do yourself a favor and please do!]

Read on AO3

Summary: Based on the song "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan, Robin returns to Hawkins years after Nancy broke her heart. While visiting her family for the holidays she runs into a familiar face.

The lights in the grocery store hummed like a fly trapped against a windowpane. Robin Buckley didn’t know if it was the hangover she struggled to nurse, or the stretching aisles of identical marketing that amplified them. She had briefly forgotten why she came into the market in the first place, holding a weighty can of soup with a non-descript label for an unnaturally long time.

She hadn’t been back in Hawkins Indiana for years, and after stopping at the closest bar to the airport and drowning her sorrows about the fact, and sleeping off her habits in a local two-story motel, she decided to feed her body in some way. Soup would stay down, or at least she thought it would.

Finally, Robin had caved to her mother’s invitation to come back home for the holidays. The past two Thanksgivings were spent alone, and the ones before that her father had driven to San Francisco to make reservations at a fancy restaurant. It consisted for two hours of awkward conversation before he would sleep on her pull-out couch and leave the next morning. Her mother never had the heart to make the trip.

It was time for Robin to go back to the sleepy town, her old stomping ground, and concede to forced family bonding. She hadn’t taken up the offer to stay in her old room, much to her mother’s dismay.

Truthfully, Robin wanted to forget everything about Hawkins. Keep the open wounds sealed up with sloppy stitches. That included the Ramone’s posters slapped up on her wall, and the fish tank that now sat empty, a ring of sediment where the water used to reach.

Robin snapped back to herself when she turned and ran straight into someone in the aisle. Cans of soup mixed with cans of cranberries. She and another woman rushed to pick them up, scrambling out apologies at the same time, overlapping one another but getting the sentiment.

“I really should watch where I’m going,” The woman said, straightening up.

Robin recognized those eyes. Though older, and dimmer with age, they still held a certain edge of careful care. However, there was no recognition behind them, not at first. She stacked her canned cranberry, pushing the heavy-framed glasses to the bridge of her nose.

“No, no it was me,” Robin said, lilting her head to the side with caution. “Mrs. Wheeler?”

She laughed humorlessly, finally scrutinizing Robin “Mrs. Wheeler, no one has called me that since… Oh, drat, you’re the Buckley girl. Robin.”

A smile broke across her face as she apologized again, and this time pulled Robin into an awkward hug where they sandwiched the canned items in between them. She still smelled warm, like pumpkin spice and kitchen cleaner.

“My word, it’s been so long. Are you still working for that computer company out West? I haven’t seen your mother since, well, it’s been years.”

Robin nodded, turning the can of soup over in her hand. It had started as something out of a friend's garage and had grown to one of the top coding platforms in the new age of the internet. Big modems and black screens with millions of numbers. It was like a puzzle: a puzzle her parents didn't understand. Most of the world didn’t understand either. But Robin had put her faith in it, slept on a rickety couch in her boss’s garage before he had enough money to not only get an office space but an apartment above it for her to live in.

“I am, Holly just graduated high school, didn't she?”

“Quick at math, as always. She did. Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, kids. Funny, isn’t it? Nancy and Mike finally made the trip home this year too.”

Robin got hit with a sudden wave of nausea that could be from the shitty Rolling Rock beer that she had downed the night before, the corn nuts that settled right at the base of her stomach. But more than anything, she knew it was at the mention of Nancy’s name. Seeing Karen was shocking enough.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes!” She pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “We’re having a get-together tonight, as a matter of fact. Forgot the cranberries. You should stop by.”

“I don’t know if that’s such-“

“Mike and Nancy will be so happy to see you! You remember where the house is, don’t you dear?”

How could Robin forget? She remembers the sweet musky smell of the basement, the lights that were always strung across old brown paneling. There was a warmth to Nancy Wheeler’s high school bedroom, a wire frame, and a pink bedspread that she would often settle under. They’d laugh, breath mingling, hair falling into gazes.

Robin whispered out “Yes ma’am.”

“Perfect! We’ll see you at eight.”

Robin nodded, dry-mouthed and stunned. She didn’t much feel like soup anymore and she watched as Karen gave her a kind wave and went along her way. There was no malice in the interaction. None at all. Karen Wheeler had been oblivious to the relationship that Robin had shared with her daughter.

Nor did she know about the conversation they had in the Station Wagon just days before Nancy went to Emerson, and Robin resigned to the fact that they had passed her exit that night for a reason.

She should have eaten something to calm her nerves, but instead, she stopped at the nearest liquor store (honestly, the only liquor store) that Hawkins had to offer. She had picked up a good bottle of brandy because she knew that Ted Wheeler was a fan.

Nancy had broken the lock off the liquor cabinet the first night after the earthquake that ripped apart the town their senior year. They had gotten drunk off the greenish liquid. It burned Robin’s throat and her stomach, but she liked the way it tasted against Nancy’s lips.

Robin had the glass bottle tucked against her side when she knocked on the door and held her breath, counting the seconds before it swung open, and warmth hit her like a ton of bricks. The Wheeler house smelled slightly spiced for the holiday, and Robin took her time before looking at the person who stood across the threshold.

Mike Wheeler was still lanky but somehow had sprouted another few inches. He had a serious look on his face that reminded Robin again of the liquor cabinet and the stern talking to she had received from Ted Wheeler, still woozy and free.

“Please tell me that’s the good stuff,” he said, voice deeper than she remembers.

“The best money can buy.”

Mike pulled her into an unexpected hug. His hair was shaggy, stubble scratching Robin’s face. She had never been close to Nancy’s kid brother, but she had stood with him on multiple occasions. He had walked in on her and Nancy when they were younger and dutifully kept the secret, too. That meant that he was okay in Robins's book, despite swiping the brandy upon their broken hug.

“Did you pre-game?” Mike asked.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to. Your mom really laid on the charm and the guilt. It’s a talent.”

“Why do you think I flew in from Florida? You could pry those white sand beaches from my cold dead hands before you caught me dead back in Hawkins in the middle of winter.”

Robin had heard that Mike took a path less desired from a father’s standpoint. He had graduated college but abandoned the degree the second he took a cross-country trip to the east coast. He fell hard and fast for the waves and ended up opening his own spear-fishing business in the gulf of Florida. Or at least, that’s what Robin had heard. His dark tan seemed to support this rumor.

“Michael, who was at the door?” Karen’s voice flitted from the kitchen, the warmest place in the house.

He lifted his eyebrows and lead Robin through the familiar paneled hallway into the kitchen. Karen wore a velvet red dress that matched the cans of cranberry she had picked up from the store earlier. Her makeup was impeccable. Holly sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a notebook with her blonde hair falling into her eyes.

Karen clapped her hands together “Robin!”

“Jesus’ mom!” Holly gasped, turning to face she and Mike.

There was no recognition in her eyes, and Robin didn’t expect there to be any. She was merely six when Robin first started showing her face in the Wheeler home. Still, she smiled and gave a nervous wave that Robin returned. Her heart was in her throat and her stomach was in her ass, and the anticipation of seeing Nancy Wheeler ebbed at the back of her mind.  

“Nancy is out back,” Mike whispered to her as he placed the bottle of bourbon on the counter.

She hugged Karen Wheeler again and excused herself to the backyard. Snow had barely begun to fall, her breath clouding each time it passed her lips. There was the scent of the bonfire a few houses down and the last crickets of the season sang their song.

Robin could hear the creaking of the swing set that was in the Wheeler's backyard, the chains having rusted. Robin shivered into herself and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She made us much noise against the gravel as she could.

Nancy had her head down, hands in her lap as she used the tip of her boot to shift her on the swing, back and forth, nothing dramatic. A pile of cut logs rested against the fence line behind her. She looked up at the sound of footsteps.

Robin had had crushes before. On Tammy Thompson and Vickie Richardson from band. Those started in the center of her soul and spread to her fingertips. But it was hard to forget the first love of your life, the girl who started at your fingertips and thawed your soul. Nancy Wheeler had been that love that split her in two.

Now she sat, staring at Robin with moon-stained eyes. She made Robin’s heart pound harder. There was a paleness to her complexion, a beauty to the curls that carried at her shoulders. She had on a jean jacket that probably didn’t’ warm her one bit. Her nose was raw, and red.

“My mom told me you were going to stop by.” She said.

Her voice was raspy as if she had just had a cold. As if she had been crying. Robin didn’t know which one it was. She walked closer and lowered herself into the swing next to Nancy. They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I should have asked you first.”

Nancy smiled “I know how she can get. You probably couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

That smile sent chills down Robin's spine. She felt an ache at the sides of both of her legs were hitting the swing. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, and wasn’t meant to sit on a green plastic swing.

“What have you been up to?” Robin asked.

She knew what Nancy Wheeler had been up to. She had consistent contact with Steve Harrington, who had since gotten out of Hawkins himself. He lived in the same city as Nancy. New York was massive and intimidating and her boss wanted to open up a branch of the company there, but she shot him down in fear that she would see Nancy among the million other faces that roamed the streets.

It made more sense for Robin to meet Nancy here, back where everything started. Back where the rain fell consistently, and the only thing to do out here was drink in the convenience store parking lot.

“Rob, we can skip the small talk.”

“It’s better than no talk at all.” She shook her head, dug the front of her boot into the frozen dirt. “It’s been years. I… I didn’t expect you to call, or write, or visit but,”

“But I should have.”

The sentence hung in the air between them. Nancy had broken Robin’s heart into a million pieces as she sat in the passenger side of the station wagon. She had cried before she said anything, cheeks wet. Nancy had kept driving, saying the words without looking at Robin.

It was easier that way, she was sure. But Robin felt trapped. They were going to opposite sides of the coast, learning, and growing and it just made sense to leave small-town relationships right where they belonged.

Nancy was right; Robin had gone off to college and met Noah and he started the company that she worked at today. She discovered the variety of dorm rooms, and briefly a sorority. She had a couple of long-term relationships and even more short-term ones. None of them captured her heart like Nancy, and none of them broke her heart in the same manner.

Robin liked to think that with time came healing. But she still went fifteen blocks out of her way every morning to get stale coffee and a copy of the New York Times from the only place that sold it. She still read every single word that Nancy Wheeler wrote, and swiped her finger across the fresh ink as if the black impression brought her closer to the girl she had loved as a teenager.

“You’re working at a start-up that they think is going to change the world of technology.”

Robin brought her eyebrows together in concern, she stared at Nancy who stared ahead at the fat flakes that fell from the black sky.

“A coder. I never figured you for computer science but I’m glad that you fell into it. I have a feeling that the internet isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. You live in a duplex that you’re renovating, and you have a dog named Pretzel, very cute, by the way.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“As have you.”

Robin swallowed hard and nodded. “Last I heard you were engaged, living on park avenue. No dogs, but two cats.”

“Was engaged. It’s his apartment on Park, so I am back in Brooklyn. I only got to keep one of the cats and Starsky misses Hutch.” Nancy laughed and a stream of smoke came from her lips, encircling her head before it dissipated into the air among the snow.

This was news. She would have to berate Steve later for skipping the information. Part of Robin, deep down, knew that she would hop on a plane and get down on one knee just to make sure Nancy Wheeler never left her life again.

“What a pair we are.” Robin shoved back on the swing, “You always have these big ideas about coming back to where you grew up, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we planned.”

“My plan made me lose the best thing in my life.” Nancy murmured softly, “and if I could, I would turn back time and apologize.”

Robin gasped dramatically “I think an apology would be wasted on Hutch.”

Nancy scoffed and punched Robin in the arm. She had a mean right hook, and Robin didn’t’ expect anything less. “Ow, Wheeler! Keep your hands to yourself.”

They smiled at each other. The tension that had been building for years wasn’t entirely erased. But it was thawing, little by little. Nancy’s little smile sent shockwaves through Robin. She figured that avoiding Nancy during the holidays would be a task that she dreaded. But after being invited here, after being in the warmth of her presence, it all came rushing back.

“Girls!” Karen Wheeler stuck her head out the back door. “You’re going to freeze out here!”

“Coming, mom!” Nancy called back, narrowing her eyes at Robin. “I’ll race you, Birdie.”

“Oh, prepare to eat your words, Wheeler.”

#robin buckley #nancy wheeler #Ronancetober #Ronancetober Day 8 #Ronance #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfiction

[lunarkyn]

[ AERIALS : WIP TEASER ]

The school pariah, Eddie Munson, was a boy that never fit into your social circles. Your friends avoided him like the plague, and while you didn’t ignore him per se, you never tried to befriend him either. That is, until he begins to tutor your geeky little brother, successfully wedging himself into your home life, and even worse, you begin to miss the days he doesn’t come over.

notes. this is just a teaser of the fic, and will just reflect the idea of where I wanna go with the fic / tease the ideas of what it will contain; as usual, once the final version is released, this wip will be deleted. the finished version will be posted to the stranger things masterlist, so look out for it! :D

genre. high school fluff & angst, implied smut

pairing. eddie munson x reader

rating. nsfw

current c/w. some implied sex scenes, a drug scene, possible mentions of overdosing & suicidal tendencies

stranger things masterlist |

[ 00 ] “Sloppy kisses, dirty wishes, baby, this is living."

Trotting up the stairs, you headed down the hall to Mike's room, pausing at the door when you heard your name being mentioned. Leaning your ear against the door, you listened in. You guessed Mike was the one playing the bass guitar, as the occasional strum of the strings was jarringly out of tune.

"What grade is your sister in? That one," The tutor's voice asked, and a pause in the conversation led you to assume he was looking at pictures or something of your family. Must be Nance he was referring to. She was the eye-catcher of the two of you, especially considering how Mom had loved to take the most embarrassing pictures of you and print them for the photo frames and albums.

"Second year of college. She's only here for summer break, though." Mike answered, setting down the bass. "Why?"

Yet Nance was in high school, so that meant... it was you?

"Just curious, she looks like a girl I used to know. Why didn’t you ask her for lessons? Seems she likes metal bands too, considering she wears Slayer shirts."

"She's busy all the time; studying and doing mock tests, going to the mall with her friends, yadda yadda. You're the one with the band, anyways."

"Fair enough." The tutor responds, and there's another beat of silence, stopped finally with an in-tune strum of an A major chord. The conversation shifts to school, which you find that the tutor was in the same grade as Mike, affirming what Nance had told you earlier.

"So where'd you recognize Y/N from?" Mike asks, strumming a random string.

You leaned forward a little too far, the door creaking as it opened. Trying to play it off, you swing the door the rest of the way open, noticing immediately that both boys have their attention solely on you.

"Mom said dinner would be done soon, so wrap it up for now," You announce, sticking your tongue out when Mike snickers and mocks your voice. "I'll tell her about that mag you bought from Spencer if you don't hurry."

He sobers up quickly, shoving the guitar – as gently as you would an upchucking baby – into Eddie's hands and running downstairs.

You turned to head down as well, stopping when Eddie called your name in a whisper-shout. 

"Yeah?" You ask, peering back at him. 

"Did you have Mr. Mundy's math class two years ago?" He put the guitar back into its case, patting it shut and flipping the locks closed. "You seem really familiar."

“Yeah, I did.” you answer, feigning a small smile. He nodded, standing up and brushing off his tattered jeans. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

His jacket had been tossed on the bed, most likely due to the fact that Mike’s room was the hottest of the house, and the leather probably made things worse. The familiar face of Ozzy Osbourne was drawn as a fanged, snake-tongued devil, the tour date labeled as Europe 1986. 

He jolted back as if surprised, a grin spreading on his lips. 

“You like Osbourne?” 

“A few of his songs,” you answer, stepping out of the room. He follows behind, pulling his jacket back on and buttoning it closed. “I prefer Black Sabbath, to be honest. Osbourne kinda fell off after Crazy Train.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more wrong opinion.”

“Whatever, Munson,” you descended the stairs, ignoring his small gasp of what seemed to be recognition. Mike eyed you and Eddie as the two of you sat at the table; you sat beside Mom, and Eddie sat next to Mike. He quietly thanked your Mom for letting him stay to eat dinner, grabbing a couple spoonfuls of some creamed corn and dumping it onto his plate.

Dinner was mostly quiet, save for Holly’s reenactment of the episode of Scooby Doo she watched, which everyone seemed to ignore. Everyone except Eddie, who was entranced by something behind you. 

No, there was a wall behind you. A picture?  You turn, pretending to crack your back, scanning the wall behind you. Just some ornamental plates. Nothing special. You sit forward, passing the salt to your Mom, suddenly self-conscious as the realization hit you.

Was he watching you?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #fanfic #imagine #wip #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things

[saintsofwarding]

EMBRYO

Chapter 3: Rose Above it All

She kept running until she was off the school grounds and into the tangle of streets beyond. It was only once she slowed, legs shaking, a stitch in her side, gasping searing breaths of the frigid late-afternoon air, that she remembered she'd forgotten her bike.

"Shit," she panted. "Shit-"

She turned around, but couldn't move. She couldn't make herself go back to the school. What if Sam had followed? What if she was outside? What if she was hurt?

What the hell had she done?

Her face was hot, her eyes stinging. Cold wind buffeted her; she shrank inside her coat, chin inside her collar. If she hadn't blown it before, she sure had now. She'd let her powers out. She'd let them out big time. It had felt like a reflex, a breath- Sam had grabbed her, so, without conscious thought, she'd lashed out.

If I can't control them-

Panic tightened her breathing. She leaned against a telephone pole, trying to get her breath back. Cars passed on the road behind her, slewing slush from the last rainfall over her boot toes. Rose pressed her eyes shut, counting her breathing, just like she and Heisenberg used to do when she was a little kid waking up from nightmares of blood and chains, black wings and shrieking laughter, a village locked in snow. In and out. One, two, three. He'd knelt by her bedside, holding both her small hands in his own, counting to her in a low voice. One, two, three. Just a little trick I learned a long time ago, kid. See if you can put it to use.

Her breathing eased, but she stayed against the telephone pole, not wanting to move. Maybe she could stay there forever. Build a little shack around the pole and live there like some kind of weird hermit. Yeah, that sounded good. Change her name, too. Rose who?

"Feeling better?"

Rose gasped and whirled. A girl stood a few feet behind her, hands in the pockets of her oversized black jean jacket. She smiled. She was about Rose's height, maybe a little shorter; her black slip skirt and black sweater, coupled with straight jet-black hair, made her nearly blend in with the dark streets behind her; she was paler, though, than even Rose, with a pointed, foxish face that seemed to nearly glow in the gathering dusk.

"You looked like you were about to throw up or something," she said. Her voice should have been sweet, sing-song, but there was a sharp edge to it that made Rose feel like she was being not-so-subtly mocked.

"Uh?" Rose said, stupidly, then shook her head. "...No...I was just- um, rough day."

"Ohhh. I know how that is." The girl tilted her head to the side. "What is it, then? Hard math test? Friendship drama? Ooh, let me guess. Boy troubles?"

"No," Rose said, frowning a little. "Actually. Do I know you? I don't recognize you from school."

"You wouldn't. I'm a new transfer." She grinned, then in one fluid movement, hopped up onto the short brick wall that bordered the sidewalk. Her combat boots went clomp. She began to walk up and down the wall, arms held out for balance.

"I think we're gonna have a lot of classes together, though," she went on. "Maybe all of them. Maybe we can talk."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Maybe we can...be friends." She leaped down, right in front of Rose, who flinched back. "What do you think?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Rose edged back. "Listen- I, uh- I forgot something at school, I have to go- um, get it..."

"You want me to walk with you?"

"No. No! I mean, don't go to the trouble." Rose made herself smile. This girl, weird as she was, had only been friendly. Ish. Friendly enough. Whatever. "See you tomorrow."

"Definitely," the girl said.

Rose turned and began back toward the school gates. A few steps on, she turned back.

"I'm Rose, by the way," she said.

The girl smiled in return. "Eveline."

***

The school grounds were quiet. No sign of Sam. Rose retrieved her bike and wheeled it toward the bus stop. Dread ached in the pit of her stomach as she contemplated her fight with Heisenberg that morning. Would he still be mad? Was she in for a night of awkwardness? Yet someone else she'd completely blown it with? Her palms were slick on her bike handlebars as she waited for the bus, her fingers quivering as it pulled up and she got on.

She went to the Goodwill nearest the apartment building for a couple hours, sorting through the racks, trying on this oversized sweater or that, browsing all the inappropriate romance novels in the used book section, killing time so she wouldn't have to spend it at home, or, worse yet, with her own thoughts. This place, with its too-bright lights, its comfortingly-shabby items on sale, the other shoppers flicking through vintage blouses and polyester '80s pants, was as far from the mold and her nightmares as anything could be.

Her phone buzzed a couple times in her bag; she didn't look at it. The evening grew darker and darker outside, mist swirling across the pavement, rain spattering the big plate glass windows. At last, the employees began to look like they just wanted her to leave, and after buying a stack of old paperbacks and stuffing them into her backpack, Rose finally bit the bullet and left.

She arrived home as the last of the light left the sky and the rain began to fall in earnest, a freezing October deluge that soaked through her coat and into her skin after only a few minutes. Locking up her bike, she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and, with a shaky exhale, let herself into the apartment.

Silence greeted her. The living room was dark, save for a single lamp by the squashy green couch; it illuminated the mess of un-put-away groceries on the kitchen counters, the weird welded-together scraps of metal on a card table shoved near the window, the cluttered bookshelves so stuffed with books and Engines Quarterly and knick-knacks they looked liable to collapse. Throw pillows embroidered with Romanian designs covered the couch, the only thing Heisenberg had added that Rose considered pretty.

The apartment had yellowing walls and kind of a funky smell in the summer, but Rose couldn't help but feel a bit of tension drain from her as she kicked off her boots and slung her backpack onto the couch. Here, she never had to pretend. Here, if the mold made an appearance, if she did something really freaky, no one cared.

Us monsters have to stick together, Heisenberg had told her. But what if Rose didn't want to be a monster all the time? What if she wanted Sam to look at her without fear in her eyes? What if she wanted to show her truth to someone that wasn't Heisenberg and have them smile, and go to her, and touch her, and not be afraid?

Couldn't she have them both?

Couldn't she?

Heisenberg would only mock her if she talked about this with him. Nothing wrong with you. Fuck anyone who says different. Rose wanted to scream in his face that just because he'd come to terms with his own power and was okay with being a weird shut-in who didn't have any friends and spent all his time welding spoons together didn't mean she had to be the same way.

Okay, that was mean. He didn't really deserve that. But he didn't get it. He was old, older than he looked, and he'd had time. Rose just had him.

And she wanted more.

She padded into the kitchen. A note stuck to the fridge with a horse-shaped magnet read, in Heisenberg's slightly childlike scrawl, food in fridge. b back soon brat!!

Sure enough, half a microwave lasagna awaited her in the fridge. Rose smiled a little to herself. While it warmed up in the microwave, she leaned against the sink, staring out the single small kitchen window into the rainy darkness beyond. Traffic pulsed and rumbled from the nearby freeway. Somewhere in another apartment she heard the bass beat of music. Raindrops pattered softly against the glass.

Quiet. Calm. Everything was okay.

What are you? Sam yelled, her eyes bright with fear.

It sniffed you out-

Hunted you down-

What are you?

What are you?

And what if she was right? What if she was endangering everyone around her by her mere existence?

She was just scared, Rose told herself, but she couldn't stop feeling the surge of power inside her, the mold responding on instinct to the threat. And there was more, she knew. There was so, so much more. She just didn't want to look deeper in case the depths were crawling with horrors.

Could be crawling with wonders, too, the voice in her head whispered.

The note gave no indication as to how 'soon' Heisenberg would be back. Knowing him, it could be five minutes or five hours.

The microwave dinged.

Rose ate her lasagna.

She went to her room and pulled on dark clothes, a hooded jacket. She put on her boots. With a last glance at the apartment around her, she left once again.

The roof access was, technically, supposed to be locked, but Heisenberg had shattered the padlock approximately five seconds after they'd moved into the building. He'd souped up the wiring to their apartment, too, so he could run four or five TVs and a bunch of power tools at once without the meter reading ever showing a spike in consumption. Just a nice side effect of being a living electricity generator.

He never went into extreme detail about what exactly had been done to him- his past was a murky fog, much like Rose's own, and she didn't want to press him too hard. He got a faraway look in his eyes whenever it got brought up, and it was so far removed from his usual sardonic glitter that it was a little scary.

Rose headed through the metal door and onto the slick, rainy expanse of the roof. The night air hit her, making her shiver; steam poured from a vent, making a muggy cloud in the freezing rain. Rose stuck her hands deep in her jacket pockets, pulse ticking in her throat. Was this a stupid idea? Probably. She should probably go back inside, do her homework, waste some time on the internet, read her new smutty paperbacks.

She didn't. She made her way to the edge of the roof and looked down. Traffic streamed by, a river of light. Regent City spread on and on before her, a grid of steel and glass and smoky darkness, all the way to the distant curve of the bay far beyond.

This was the first seaside city she and Heisenberg had moved to- they never stayed in one place more than a few years- and Rose loved the open sea. A plane of nothingness; a slap of salt wind. Sometimes when she looked out at the ocean she felt like she was living on the edge of the world.

She took her hands from her pockets and lifted them. They trembled a little.

"Okay," she whispered to herself. "Work with me, now."

She turned to face the open rooftop, her feet apart, her shoulders braced. She splayed her hands, trying to call the power on her own terms. Just a little. Don't break anything. Light flickered through her nerves, behind her eyes-

Nothing happened.

"Come on," she muttered. She shook her hands and did a little jog in place. Stopping, she let out a long breath, then splayed her hands again.

The darkness slithered around her.

A pulse blasted through the rain, clearing it in a sphere around her for a moment. Black tentacles burst from the rooftop before she realized she'd called on them, great whipping structures that looked like the roots of trees rendered in glistening, iridescent oily blackness. They roared ahead, toward the far side of the roof.

Rose screamed; she dropped her control, and the mold dropped, too, splashing down in a gooey puddle that coated the concrete. It slithered back to her as she swayed on her feet. She sat down heavily on the edge of the roof, nausea bitter on the back of her tongue. Her pulse pounded. It sounded deeper than before, a drumbeat vibrating through her; she closed her eyes, trying not to be sick, and the darkness was there, too, like she hung above an endless abyss. Like the ocean.

What's down there? Fall and fall forever. Voices rose, a gibbering chorus of them. Come on, Rose, just take a look- just fall a little-

Rose?

She drifted in the darkness, suspended, her skin glowing like moonlight. It spread below her, on and on. An endless sea of mold. Glistening swells; waves of oily black. They formed faces, hands, bodies.

Moments.

Two people embracing. A woman kneeling in the snow by a graveside. Feral monsters ripping and tearing at what once might have been a body. A baby cupped in a man's arms, one mangled hand stroking her cheek.

On and on. Further and further. All she needed to do was descend into the mold, sink down, down, and she would find it all. Everything.

Everyone.

Rose, it whispered to her. They whispered.

Rose.

"Rose."

Her eyes snapped open.

Heisenberg stood silhouetted by the open rooftop door. The rain pattered against his shoulders, slightly hunched in his old trench coat. He was hatless, his gray hair soaked in ropes around his face. From that, and from the half-smoked cigar in his hand, Rose guessed he'd been standing there for way too long.

"I..." she started. She glared at him. "How long have you been watching me?"

"It's almost nine, kid. How long have you been sitting there?"

"Nine?" She'd gotten home around six-thirty. Oh, god. Had she been out here for almost two hours? "I was- I was-"

"Enjoying our world-class view?" Heisenberg said, making an expansive gesture with his cigar. "No accounting for taste."

"I-" Rose began. Heisenberg regarded her, slowly smoking his cigar. "I was- brooding."

He guffawed. "Brooding."

"About...Sam."

"Yeah? How's that going for you?"

"Not good."

"So the same."

"Yeah. Today..." She trailed off.

"Bad?"

"Pretty much." "Kill her," Heisenberg suggested, with a shrug.

Rose laughed, out of shock more than anything. "What?"

"Kill her. Then you won't have to worry about her anymore." "I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

His grin widened, becoming sinister. "That depends on your answer, Rosie."

Usually, this kind of sociopathic advice made Rose feel better, made her laugh at the absurdity of it all, made her look at things from a lighter perspective. Now, it grated at her. What did he understand about it?

"Maybe that's how you'd do things, but I actually want her to like me," Rose said. She stood up; her joints creaked, aching with cold. Two hours. She'd been sunk in that black void for two hours. Horror shuddered up her throat; to cover it, she pressed on, reckless and hot. "You don't get it, do you? You're never gonna get it."

"Rose." He spread his hands. "Come on, now-"

"Don't," Rose told him. "Just. Don't."

She pushed past him and hurried back inside, making it back to the apartment and into her room before she even heard him begin to follow. She shut her door, then after a beat, dragged her overflowing laundry basket in front of it. Her room spread around her, cozy, messy, and scruffy, strings of fairy lights tacked up haphazardly around the window and over a wall of magazine cutouts and posters. Her ancient laptop hummed on her desk, which was covered in a mess of nail polish bottles, art supplies, a couple anime figurines. A poster of Gillian Anderson in the X-Files was decorated all over in little pink heart stickers, and one of her favorite Goodwill finds, an old Audio-Technica turntable, sat stacked at a rakish angle atop one of her overstuffed bookshelves.

She had this fantasy of inviting Sam over, them sitting in her room, Rose casually mentioning oh, would you like to hear a record? I've got some real groovy beats. They'd sit shoulder to shoulder while the record spun and scratched its doleful sound through the room. Sam would look at her, and Rose would look, with passion in her eyes, back. A hand would rise to cup the face. They'd move in. Lips would touch.

Usually her fantasies cut off there; in her romance novels the dude would generally rip off some article of clothing, exposing various expanses of creamy flesh, but Rose figured Sam wouldn't really like her to rip any of her cool clothes.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the apartment. Something went crash; Rose heard Heisenberg mutter a stream of sound that contained the word fuck a few times. She guessed he'd run into the coffee table.

Rose had to get Sam to trust her. That wouldn't happen unless she could control her powers. And when she used them against nothing...that was when the nightmares came. She needed an enemy, a real enemy. Not Heisenberg. She couldn't hurt him. Imagining life without him in it...she didn't even want to contemplate that.

She couldn't bring him into it, either. This was her problem, not his. And she wanted to take care of it herself, show him she was her own person, that despite all he'd done for her, all they'd been through together, she wasn't a little girl anymore.

The footsteps approached her door.

"Kid," Heisenberg said. "Listen, uh...I know this stuff is, uh, important to you and all..." She could actually hear the gears grinding in his head. "But look, whatever you're going through, it is gonna end, you know that, right? One day you'll wake up and you'll be as old as me and Sam will probably be long dead and it's just not gonna matter anymore..."

Rose was only half-listening. She went to her window and fiddled with the latch.

"...I get it though, I really do, you care about people, and usually when you care about people you don't want 'em mad at you and you don't want to deal with your feelings for certain individuals by murdering them..."

The window came open with a crack of breaking paint. Rose stuck her head out. The sheer drop plunged below her, four stories down to the pavement.

She lifted her hand. Black tendrils unfurled from her skin, reaching for the sill, grabbing on and winding in.

"...And I know I historically dealt with all my problems by crushing them into dust or turning them into a mechanized monstrosity, but that doesn't mean I haven't had moments of contemplation in my life that don't involve artificial blood and screaming..."

Rose glanced back at her room, at the door. Then she looked to the drop. With an exhale and a little nod to herself, she grabbed the sill and swung over, into the empty darkness beyond.

#Re8 #resident evil #resident evil village #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #Rosemary Winters #Karl Heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #chapter 3

[kurisus]

TLT Playlist

You all knew it was coming. I had a lot of fun with this playlist, since it's ordered to follow Gideon, Harrow, and Nona respectively with some songs thrown in that I think the characters would like in addition to fitting lyric-wise.

I sent this playlist to a couple friends for early peer review, and received the following feedback:

Listen Here

Song list under the cut! I recommend listening in this order to follow the character progression through the series.

Legendary - Welshly Arms

Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons

All the Rowboats - Regina Spektor

Immortals - Fall Out Boy

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Lorde

Louder Than Words - Les Friction

Who We Are - Imagine Dragons

Giants - Neoni

Born for This - CRMNL

Legend - The Score

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy

Cannonball - KAINA

Don't Stop the Devil - Dead Posey

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up) - Fall Out Boy

Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

Absinthe - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

The Kill - Thirty Seconds To Mars

Numb - Linkin Park

World on Fire - Les Friction

Forest Fires - Lauren Aquilina

Dead Man's Arms - Bishop Briggs

Landfill - Daughter

Indestructible - Welshly Arms

Twin Skeleton's (Hotel In NYC) - Fall Out Boy

World So Cold - 12 Stones

Church - Fall Out Boy

Song of the Abyss - Aviators

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Glory - Friday Pilots Club

In the End - Linkin Park

You - Keaton Henson

For This You Were Born - UNSECRET, Fleurie

I Will Never Die - Delta Rae

Supernova - Marcus Alexander

Won't Remember (Acoustic) - Tors

Mars - Sleeping At Last

Furthest Star - Dirt Poor Robins

In the End - Linkin Park

Sirens - Oliver Daldry

X - Welshly Arms

Devil Devil - MILCK

Call Them Brothers - Regina Spektor, Only Son

The Light Behind Your Eyes - My Chemical Romance

Torture - Les Friction

No Light, No Light - Florence + The Machine

Feet Don't Fail Me Now - Neoni

Bones - Koethe

A Lonely Place (Alternative Version) - Ryan Louder, Eurielle

The Saints I - Dirt Poor Robins

Human - Daughter

Free - Mother Mother

The Sharpest Lives - My Chemical Romance

Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths

Medicine - Daughter

Mercy - Bo Baskoro

Twisted - The People's Thieves

Bones - Imagine Dragons

Make Believe - Les Friction

Justice - Dirt Poor Robins

Flesh and Bone - Black Math

Dark Matter - Les Friction

The Angry River - The Hat, Father John Misty, S.I. Istwa

Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

XV - Split the Dealer, Deva St. John

Take Me to Church - Hozier

Maybe - Flower Face

Empire & the Sun - The Moth & The Flame

Amber - Koethe

Immortalized - Hidden Citizens, Keeley Bumford

I Remember - Les Friction, Emily Valentine

City of the Dead - Eurielle

Mausoleum - Rafferty

Oh Death - Noah Gundersen

Hymn For The Missing - Red

Who We Are - Hozier

Bring Me To Life (Synthesis) - Evanescence

Iridescent - Linkin Park

Dead - Truslow

Politik - Coldplay

Hey Love - Foreign Figures

Snake Eyes - Mumford & Sons

Who Will Save You Now - Les Friction

Silhouette - Aquilo

In the Roses (Acoustic) - Christian Reindl, Henri Bardot

Far Too Young to Die - Panic! At The Disco

I Come With Knives - IAMX

Battlefield - SVRCINA

You And I (Stripped) - PVRIS

Death is a Girl - Skippocalyptic

Cannibal - Marcus Mumford

The Calling - The Amazing Devil

This Is How The World Ends - Kat Leon

The Sword & the Pen - Regina Spektor

It Tore Your Heart Out - Dirt Poor Robins

Any Body - aeseaes

Curses - The Crane Wives

Two Birds - Regina Spektor

Bones - Emily Finchum

Fortuna (Warframe) - Divide Music

Enchanté - Dirt Poor Robins

Anybody Else - Dom Fera

Good Intentions - Coyote Kid

Red Water Dreams - Aviators

Those Who Sojourn - Dirt Poor Robins

Ballad of a Politician - Regina Spektor

Earth - Sleeping At Last

Your World Will Fail - Les Friction

Falling Upwards into Love - Dirt Poor Robins

The Horror Of Our Love - Ludo

Devourer - Aidoneus

Dream Girl Evil - Florence + The Machine

The Ballad of Jeremiah Peacekeeper - Poets of the Fall

Six Billion - Nothing But Thieves

Morning Star - Van Izak

But Never a Key - Dirt Poor Robins

Blue Lips - Regina Spektor

Needles & Pinches - Georgia Train, Bitter Ruin

Love Comes Home - Les Friction

#The Locked Tomb #Gideon the Ninth #Harrow the Ninth #live update #playlist

[technetiumai]

15 Questions | 15 People

Thank you for tagging me @raenestee and @cutestkilla! These are so much fun! I love learning more about you guys!

Oh, I’m supposed to tag 15 people? 😬 Do I even know 15 people?

1. Are you named after anyone?

My legal first name was my father’s grandmother’s name, but the only people who have ever called me that were people reading it off of official paperwork. My mom liked that my initials could also be a name and decided, before I was born, to call me that.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I seriously cry so much. I probably cried a little bit like half an hour ago because of a song I was listening to or something. But I guess that was like, I’m at work and I’m holding it together crying, not full on crying… I’m like 90% sure I was fully crying because of either a vlogbrothers video, a Rush song reaction video, a Glass Onion or Knives Out reaction video, or maybe a Dimension 20 clip either yesterday or the day before…

3. Do you have kids?

Yes, twin eight-year-olds. 

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Hmmmm. I think so? It used to be one of my defining characteristics, but I don’t really know if it is anymore. I definitely use snark fairly constantly. The sass flows freely.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

How the heck would I know? I don’t keep track... I’m sure it can’t always be the same thing, but I have no idea. Everything and nothing.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green. A it’s a true green in the center part and the outline of the iris, then most of it is like a turquoise with gold flecks in it that looks green when you zoom out. Not that anyone but me has ever looked close enough to notice 😂. That may be what all green eyes look like, I don’t know.

7. Scary movie or happy endings?

Happy endings, I guess. I usually find scary movies mostly boring. Not that I don’t ever get scared or anything, it’s just… just being scared isn’t very entertaining for me I guess. Also scary movies tend to very quickly break suspension of disbelief so usually it’s hard to a stay in a brain space that’s really open to being scared. I think there’s just something I don’t get about the genre, and maybe a campiness that’s not really my thing. The Ring is the only “scary movie” that jumps to mind where I was like in it. I know there has to be more though, my brain is just empty. What was the question? Oh, I mean… happy ending still has to a have a good journey though, right? And I’m not opposed to tragedy. I guess my point is that I don’t like either for either’s sake, but if it’s a good movie, it’s a good movie. 

8. Any special talents?

Define special—Ummmm… No, I’m gonna go with no. I have no idea. Throwing themed parties? Maybe? 

9. Where were you born?

Des Moines, Iowa. I read an article once that ranked Des Moines as the #1 metro area in the US to live in, in terms of something, but I can’t remember what... I think that pretty much sums it up.

10. What are your hobbies?

Craft stuff. None of it is actually interesting to talk about. 

11. Do you have any pets?

We have an ancient, calico Manx cat; she’s roughly 130 years old in cat years (factoring in the comparatively short lifespan of her breed). We have a four year old black cat, who a former coworker found abandoned by his (the cat’s, not the coworker’s) mom in the garage of a Masonic lodge soon after he was born. So we’ve had him since he was the size of a like a peach or something,  and now he weighs like 15 pounds. We also have two sweet little Guinea pig ladies, who are six years old and were already four when we adopted them. They’re so cute 😖🤗. I’m getting some baby-fever-style urges to get more pets though… more cats, or maybe rats… I want a pot bellied pig, but I don’t really think I could give it enough attention. I also want a goat, but that’s not legal where I live.

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

Lol, I wish.

13. How tall are you?

5'5"

14. Favorite subject at school?

Always math. I was never good enough that I got into super advanced classes, but it felt like I was just spending a bunch of time solving puzzles and getting rewarded for it; seemed like a great deal to me. Plus it didn’t have as much of the social weight that the rest of them did for me. 

15. Dream job?

I really want to keep part of Raen’s answer 😅 “Anything that I don’t dread going to every day, something that doesn’t feel like it’s sucking the life out of me.” That really is the dream. I really would just like to constantly be doing something creative collaboratively with other people. I’m not really picky about what it is though. Or if I could solve intermediate algebra problems all day—that’d be amazing. That’s not very realistic though. That’s what computers are for. If I could get paid what I’m paid now to like organize things or file things or something, I would love that.

@onepintobean @ivelovedhimthroughworse @captain-aralias @fatalfangirl 

I can’t do tags; you know the drill.

#tag game

[percontaion-points]

Delicious Monsters chapters 3 & 4

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 3

The thing about having a name like Brittney is that it creates a certain image. An impression. People have thoughts about a name like Brittney. 

Picture a Brittney. Right now. Think of who that might be. 

I bet you’re not imagining me. 

That’s the best part about my name. People never see me coming.

I stride through the office, towering over the other interns at my full 5’11” height, taking up space with a Yeah, I’m fat, get over it attitude, black-and-lilaccolored braids swinging above my shoulders, and my laptop tucked under my arm. The thing about confidence is that it doesn’t matter if you really have it or not, so long as you pretend well enough.

The problem with the name Brittney is that it was so popular when millennials were being born. I’ve met so many Brittneys. 

The problem with this character introduction isn’t the fact that she’s black. Because I’ve met black Brittneys before. 

The problem is that the girl that I’m picturing is a giant bitch who thinks that she’s better than everybody. And uh… The introduction to this is already kind of proving my point. 

“The stakeholders feel that ‘Forgotten Black Girls’ as a theme is a bit isolating and niche.”

Quick question: are the stakeholders white baby boomer men? 

And I can show that her beloved house of miracles is a thin cover-up for a house of horrors. A sham, just like her.

Chapter 3 summary: I guess that the narration is going to switch between Brittany in the present day and Daisy 10 years earlier. Or something, IDK. 

Anyway, Brittany is 19 years old, and works for an online company called Torte… But the only thing you need to know about this company is that it’s basically off-brand Buzzfeed. They started off doing content farm garbage, moved on to making videos making fun of their original videos, and then started branching out from there. 

Brittany and her BFF, Jayden, got picked up by Torte because of their youtube channel, in which they discussed hauntings. Their supervisor, a do-nothing middle-aged white man, tells them that the stakeholders rejected their proposal about “Forgotten Black Girls”, with the thought that it was a little too niche. 

Backing up a little, we’re introduced to some of Brittany’s obligatory Tragic Backstory™. She was abused a lot as a child, but then her mom turned her life around. Seemingly only so that she could write a best-selling book about it. Said book is on Torte’s “communal bookcase” in the office. The entire thing pisses Brittany off something fierce, but she can’t make a scene about it, or else it’ll make her situation worse. 

Anyway, after their supervisor tells them to come up with a new proposal, Jayden mentions an anonymous email they got about the “miracle house” that supposedly cured Brittany’s mother, Daisy. (Yes, I’m aware that the maths ain’t mathing with that. I’m hoping for an explanation later.) However, in the email, the person implied that there was a darker side of the house that was now so famous thanks to Daisy’s book. 

Brittany’s and Jayden’s proposal about “houses that kill” is immediately approved for the third season of their youtube series. 

Chapter 4

Delighted. Absolutely delighted. She breathed out, “Yes.”

Chapter 4 summary: We’re back over with Daisy. Apparently, we’re going to be jumping back and forth between these two. Hoping for a big pay-off as to what’s going on later, but we’ll see. 

Anyway, so Daisy goes back to the hovel of an apartment she shares with her mother. There’s a moment where she explains to the readers that in order to keep the ghosts away from her while she’s sleeping, she has to listen to Kidz Bop. (Covers of popular songs done by children, for children.) She hates it, but it works, so it doesn’t matter. 

When she comes in, she finds her mom on the phone with grandma. They’re talking about The House. Which almost seems like one of those metaphorical things. “Our lives will be so much better when we’re able to afford a house!” kind of situations… Yet you know that mom will never be able to actually afford a house. And she also seems to blame Daisy for “wanting to live in the city”. Ugh. 

Mom gets angry that Daisy is standing there, so Daisy goes into the bathroom, where she looks at herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know who the greasy-skinned girl staring back at her is. For sure not the girl that dated Noah. We’re then subjected to a painstakingly long and detailed description of Daisy washing and then combing out her hair. Why. 

She eventually grabs her mom’s wig hair scissors, and starts hacking off her own hair. Mainly the parts of it that are chemically treated to be straight. Exactly like how Noah likes it. 

As she does this, she thinks about how she accidentally got drunk at a college party with Noah’s friends. This girl is 17, BTW. Noah is 100% a groomer. It’s not so much the drinking that lead to their break-up, but the fact that she let slip that she’s not exactly in college. Because she’s still in high school. One of Noah’s female friends tried to message Daisy claiming to want to help (trust me, I’ve been on both sides of that conversation, and it’s never fun.), but Daisy blocked her. That was right before Noah ghosted her. You know, because Daisy accidentally outed him as a creeper. 

Mom comes in and startles Daisy, so she accidentally slices her eyebrow with the scissors. As her mom helps Daisy to take care of the injury, she laments over Daisy having shorn most of her hair off. Daisy asks about The House, to which her mother only says “Yes”. 

#delicious monsters #bookblr #book review

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

467 of 2023

When was the last time you shaved your legs?

Never.

What were you doing this morning at 8 am?

Taking my morning medication.

What were you doing 15 minutes ago?

Another survey.

What are you wearing?

Red hoodie and black wide leg pants.

Are you mad at anyone right now?

No, I'm not. No reason whatsoever.

Last person to say they loved you?

I can't even remember lol.

Last time you kissed someone?

Earlier today, when my husband was leaving for work.

Do you know the words to the song on your MySpace profile?

This is not Myspace. Anyone still uses it, by the way?

Last thing received in the mail?

A package for myself, and one for my husband.

Have you ever gotten naked in a public place?

Lol no. Not even on a nude beach, and there's one in my country.

How long is your hair?

Short, but already too long for my tastes.

How many different drinks have you had today?

Just one, and not even full. I only used it to swallow my pills.

Are you any good at math?

Yeah, but I like physics more.

Do you have plans for Saturday night?

Yeah, grocery shopping. Hopefully in France.

Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Of course, he's my husband after all.

Are you dating or single?

I'm married, I win.

Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight?

Yeah, when I was young. Not a smart idea.

Do you like the lights off or on?

Definitely on. I like lots of light in the house.

What are you excited about?

Visiting my family, whenever it is.

What did you do last night?

Sleeping, what else.

Are any of your great-grandparents still alive?

No, and neither are my grandparents.

Where do you keep your change?

In a tiny wallet, but I rarely use coins.

How has your week been?

Good so far. Lots of travel.

Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?

I feel I've answered this question yesterday.

What was the weather like on your birthday?

I don't even remember, but probably sunny and getting warm.

Would you kiss anyone on your friends list?

What friends list?

Are you a cat or dog person?

Definitely a cat person. I have two cats, and I've been raised with cats. I just love cats so much, and my little furry gremlins are my daughters.

Is there anything bothering you right now?

I have a bit of sore throat, hopefully nothing serious. My husband has a cold, so I hope I didn't catch it.

Is there something you want to let go of?

Yeah, the past. I don't think about it much, though.

How important is trust?

Extremely important. Without trust, everything falls apart.

Do you always regret?

No, I don't. Life is too short for that.

Do you find your ex gf/bf good looking?

Very much so. But maybe I'm biased, his personality makes him beautiful, too.

What will you do if you're stuck in the elevator with someone you don't like?

Ignore them as much as I can.

Have you ever wanted someone but you can’t have him/her?

Not exactly wanted, not in sexual/romantic meaning. But I wanted to be friends with someone, I just didn't know how.

Have you ever said I love you but you lied?

No, I never lie about such things. I'm not quick to say it anyway.

Would you ever want to go back in the past?

Maybe for once, to prevent some things.

Do you really wanna please everybody?

Nah, it's just not possible.

Is waiting ever okay?

Yes, when it's worth it.

Right now, where do you wanna be?

At my parents' place.

What are you so sick and tired of?

Rapidly rising prices lol.

What made you smile today?

My husband being nice.

Is looking good important?

Looking clean is important, looking good is subjective.

Do you listen to love songs when you’re down?

Omg no. I'm allergic to all that cheesy romantic stuff.

What are you thankful for?

Having my life saved after that brain injury.

Do you believe in forever?

Nothing lasts forever. Even life.

What are your plans for the weekend?

Grocery shopping at Saturday (hopefully in France) and business trip at Sunday.

Do you say sorry first?

It depends if I'm the one who is guilty or not.

Has someone promised you something and broke it?

More than once. It's more common than people think.

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

[goatchulu]

jealous! lucifer x gender neutral! reader

Genre: fluff, ig? slight smut in the end.

Fandom: obey me!

Prompt: you find yourself in a fake relationship, and now you're introducing your "boyfriend" to the demom brothers. they don't take it so well, especially lucifer.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of harassment and stalking, they make out in the end, reader's gender is unmentioned for your imagination (and inclusion).

lucifer takes another swig of his whisky, a slight burning sensation lingering on his throat. no matter the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, he couldn't escape the bitter feeling that was left inside his chest.

the two of you have been hitting it off pretty well for the past few weeks, if he could say so himself. the harmless complimenting and the subtle glancing had turned into ardent flirting and shows of affection overtime. you two were finally going somewhere with your mutual pinning, or so he thought.

lucifer didn't think his small (not so small) crush on you would lead anywhere, really. nor did he think you would reciprocate his infatuation. but with all the friendly interactions you had of late, anyone would assume you two were together in a romantic light.

now look, lucifer prides himself as a person. he was assertive, efficient, productive, level-headed and the voice of reason when stress is most prominent. but as a lover? lucifer wasn't so sure. he assumed you'd like someone more jolly and eccentric like mammon or someone more confident and charismatic like asmodeus. he didn't expect for you to even spare him a second glance when it came to the dating game. lucifer was a busy man after all, and he wasn't the most expressive when it came to emotions; not very ideal for a lover.

but what lucifer also did not expect was for you to bring home a common demon boy and introduce him as your significant other.

let's just say that all the built up tension and courting were all ruined by a single dinner party.

you had gathered all the demon brothers earlier that morning, claiming you had an important announcement to make. you went as far as inviting diavolo and his loyal butler, barbatos, to spend the evening over for dinner. they thanked you for the invitation, but they unfortunately, could not attend because of their hectic schedules.

lucifer, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept your invitation (though he was quick to cover up the smile he held when you came up to him). seeing as he already lives under the same roof as you, anways. his happiness would soon be diminished and grinded into dirty, pathetic, dust, though.

lucifer's eyes narrow as mammon's loud laughter bounces off the walls of the dining room. lucienne, your "boyfriend", had managed to crack the demon up with one of his silly stories about a strange elderly wizard that sold expensive medication made out of fairy wings that turned out to just be bedazzled dragon fly wings. he worked wonders with the avatar of greed, considering the fact that just a moment ago, mammon was cursing in jealousy and resentment as you sat with your newly introduced boyfriend.

luficer would've told mammon to shut up, but he feared saying something far more vulgar out of anger. the previous tension was already eased into a more domesticated athmosphere (credits to lucienne's charm and humor), lucifer didn't want to ruin dinner for his brothers, and especially not for you.

i mean, lucifer felt betrayed, he felt used and-- and played. how could you lead him on like this? but deep inside, he knew there was something else. he felt disappointed, he felt defeated, he felt crushed, he wished he'd done something sooner before this lucienne stole you away from him.

but anyways, back to the dinner party.

"you seem unusually quiet, lucy." asmo teases from across lucifer's seat. the phrase seems to capture everyone's attention, all eyes now on the grimacing and glaring lucifer.

"asmo's right, you haven't uttered a word since lucienne arrived, lucifer. is something wrong?" you chime in, causing lucifer to perk up. the thought of you worrying about his state sent sparks into his heart, but they were quick to disappear when lucienne asks him the same question.

"i'm fine." he replies to your concern, unable to hide the venom that strung on to his words. this only causes asmodeus to snicker, and leviathan to sink deeper into his seat. everyone else watches in concern as lucifer downs another glass of demom whiskey. you're about to ask him again, unsure about his reply, but he stops you before you could even form a word.

"i said i'm fine."

the air is tense, until eventually, mammon gasps out of nowhere. "don't tell me! lucifer is jealous!!~" he repeats in a sing song manner, only irking lucifer even further. no one else speaks up, the whole situation akward enough.

after a while, though, lucienne speaks up. he gestures at mammon, especially. hoping to stop the demon from escalating the situation. "hey mammon, wanna hear about that one time i accidentally professed my love for my eight grade math teacher?" mammon only settles back into his seat, ready for another laughing fit. the avatar of pride snaps at this, slamming his fists down the table before abruptly excusing himself with a "i have something to do."

he spares you one last glance. his heart aching with guilt from the way you had lowered your head in shame. lucifer didn't want to make you feel like he owned you, or that you weren't allowed to be with someone else... he just, he has enough reason to justify his anger right now and he really wants to dwell in it. he turns his head away from you, biting his lip to contain the guilt and pain that was threatening to seep out. he doesn't turn to look back as he walks away from the dining room in long and rushed strides.

lucifer walks down the dark hallways of lamentation, familiar with every nook and cranny the mansion had. he sighs in relief as his palm reaches out for a familiar door. it creaks as lucifer walks into his room, sounding just as glum as lucifer is.

he heads straight to his paperwork, silently hoping that they would provide him some sort of comfort. he tries to focus on anything but the thought of you or your unavailability, his mind barely processing any of the words that were printed out in front of him. he groans, his hands pulling on his jet black hair in frustration.

i mean, he should've expected this. lucienne was everything lucifer thought you would love. funny outgoing, caring, expressive, charismatic, a smooth talker and he looked at you with utmost respect and admiration. i mean, who in their right mind would choose old-schooled lucifer over the flawless lucienne?

you deserve lucienne and although lucifer thinks that no one in the three realms could ever deserve to call you theirs, he still thinks that lucienne is more deserving of you than lucifer could ever be. what were you doing to the poor demon? he was never one to admit defeat like this, and he especially wasn't the type of person that'd lower themself like this.

his rollercoaster of thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. his ears already familiar with this particular knocking pattern. he can't help but straighten himself up, suddenly aware of the way his hair is all sprawled out. he slicks it down with saliva, muttering a small "enter" soon after he finshes checking on his appearance.

his mood lightens just a little bit at the sight of your face. as much as lucifer wants to hate you right now, he couldn't possibly feel that way towards you. never, not in a quadrillion light years.

you sit down in front of him, a genuine look of concern on your face. this makes lucifer visibly frown, catching you a bit off guard. "i wanted to talk to you about something, lucifer." his eyes grow curious and a bit hopeful, wishing it were about something that would distract him from the current situation or give him even the tiniest bit of closure.

"it's about lucienne." and once again, you manage to crush all his hope with only a few words. lucifer swears that if he hears that name one more time, he would personally shove your lovely boyfriend down the deepest depths of the underworld.

you watch his brows furrow and his fist tighten on his quill. lucifer looks far from happy to hear you talk about your significant other right now. "look, i know you'd rather not hear about lucienne again, but it's really really important and i want you to just hear me out. just this once, please?"

lucifer couldn't stand the pleading look you were giving him. your puppy eyes were a weapon that you used on him often, and they always managed to work. a tired sigh leaves his lips, if it meant getting it over with then he'd listen. "fine," he snaps, not before rubbing at his temple in obvious distress. he's said fine, but his body language told you otherwise.

"someone's kind of harassing lucienne at the moment. stalking him, giving him unwanted gifts and constantly professing their love for him when he's told them multiple times that it made him uncomfortable. they're an admirer of some sorts. i'm posing as lucienne's lover in hopes that they'd back off for a while, but i wanted to see if you and diavolo could do some actual help. it's worrisome, really. and it's been stressing lucienne out for the past couple of weeks. pretending to be his significant other is the most i can do for him, i hope you understand."

lucifer only freezes in shock, guilt washing over him all so suddenly. you call out for him, effectively snapping him out of his short daze. of course you'd offer to help lucienne out, you've always been a kind person. in lucifer's eyes, atleast. he coughs into his hand, avoiding eye contact with you as he degrades himself for his previous selfishness.

"of course, i'll do my best to make sure this harasser is punished. the school and i will ensure that lucienne won't be seeing this stalker anytime soon. just keep supporting him like this, i suppose. tell him he can sleep here for the night. thank you for informing me about this." you smile at lucifer's response, relief overwhelming your senses. if this meant that lucienne was finally going to be safe and unbothered, you were overjoyed.

you jump at lucifer, thanking him, all the while, squeezing the life out of him. his heart races impossibly fast at the gesture, and you can't help but smirk at the red that tainted his cheeks. "just so you know, i still like you. and only you, lucy."

his breath comes to a halt. he was no longer able to contain the butterflies that crowded his stomach; shock and well, pure bliss apparent on his face. "does this mean i can kiss you?"

"do anything as you please."

lucifer lunges at you. capturing your lips into a hungry and impatient kiss. his hands roam all over your torso, looking for anything he could hold onto. he settles for your waist and you drape your hands over his shoulders. heaven knows how long he's been waiting for this moment.

he manages to stumble through his room, leading you two to his bed. you part as he pushes you down to sit at the end of his king sized bed. he grins at the sight of you, disheveled and thirsty for more. the avatar of pride couldn't help but be excited for the faces you'll make in the unholy endeavors he's planning for you. he'll devour you, tear apart every innocent limb you have in your body. his imagination runs wild as he thinks of the many ways he'd mark you as his, exhibit you to the world and spread you wide open for his contenders to see. for them to know just how pathetic and needy lucifer could make you in an instant.

he bends down to kiss you again, pushing against your tounge with his own. he squeezes your thighs, digging his nails deep into the skin under the cloth still covering you. groans and grunts leave your lips as he countinues to caress your plush thighs.

as you two part, panting, a newfound possessiveness overtakes lucifer's eyes.

"you're mine."

#lucifer x reader #lucifer x gender neutral reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x mc #lucifer x mc #jealousy #jealous lucifer #obey me fanfic #obey me #om! shall we date #om! lucifer #original character #om! mammon #om! fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #gender neautral reader #lucifer x gn reader #gn reader #gn!reader #gn!mc