#it's a way for him to still perform and sing and express himself!!!

[eats-a-berry]

i wasn't sure exactly what i thought adult gideon should be doing, but i DO quite like the triple combination of cowboy-biker, drag queen, and used car salesman at the same time. she's always a busy person!

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐑 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I just wanted to write some fluff!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑨𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒏 🗡️

・At first, he tilts his head, lips parting like he might question it. But then he sees your expression; calm, trusting, maybe a little playful, and something in him softens.

“I can try,” he says, voice rough around the edges, but warm. “It’s been… a long time since I’ve braided anyone’s hair.”

・You sit together near the fire. His sword is laid beside him, boots still dusty from the road.

・And yet, he treats the moment like it deserves stillness. Like your request has pulled him out of time.

・His hands are calloused, weather-worn.

・You can feel him being careful not to tug too hard.

・He works in silence, brows furrowed in concentration.

・His fingers move slower than Legolas’, less sure than Faramir’s, but steadier than you’d expect.

・Every now and then, he huffs out a breath that sounds like a quiet laugh.

“You have too much hair for this to go unnoticed,” he murmurs. “The braid will hold, but only just. It may rebel before the day is done.”

・But still, he continues.

・And when he finishes...it’s a bit uneven. Slightly lopsided with a few bits of hair hanging out.

・Yet it was done with love and effort and the kind of care no one taught him

・He rests a hand briefly at the base of your braid, like he’s grounding you. Or himself.

“There. You’re ready.”

・And when he sits back, he doesn’t say anything else.

・But throughout the day he watches you, making sure it holds, and if were to come loose, you can come back to him.

・He'll braid it again. Every time.

𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒔 🌙

・He blinks once, slow and surprised, then tilts his head, curious.

“It would be my honor,” he says, with the kind of sincerity that makes your chest tighten.

・Legolas doesn’t ask why. Doesn’t tease.

・He treats the request with deep, quiet admiration. Almost as if you've asked him to perform an ancient rite...which you kinda have.

・He steps behind you in complete silence.

・With featherlight, gentle hands (you hardly feel them at first), he works. And he does it quite quickly.

・You realise this isn't the first time he's braided hair before.

“Each braid has meaning,” he murmurs. “Length. Type. Tension. In my realm, we braid for protection. For remembrance. For love.”

・You go still. He doesn’t elaborate.

・And then he sings.

・It's soft, in Elvish.

・And not one that you know. But it feels old. Comforting. Like wrapping your arms around a loved one you haven't seen in a while.

・When he finishes, he runs one finger gently along the braid’s edge

・And when you turn to look at him; eyes shining and heart full, he meets your gaze and adds, ever so softly:

“You should ask me again sometime.”

・Because this wasn’t just a braid.

・It was a memory.

・And he plans to make more of them with you.

𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒓 🛡️

・Oh how he melts.

“I’ve never been asked to do something like that...But I'll try.”

・He moves to sit behind you, shuffling so that his legs are around you.

・Boromir's hands are big, definitely too big for this, but he continues anyway.

・As he gathers your hair, gently brushing it out of your face and into his palm, he mutters:

“You’ll have to forgive me if it’s not Elvish-perfect,” he murmurs. “We weren’t taught much about braids in the White Tower.”

・And then he grows quiet, thoughtful. This isn’t just a braid anymore. It’s a way to show you affection...a part of him enjoys it.

・Although he is trying to make it perfect.

・At the end, the braid is a little loose, a little uneven, but strong.

・Woven like a promise.

・He secures it with a small leather tie from his own belongings; nothing special, but something his.

“There. Done.” A pause. “I hope it’s alright.”

・You turn to thank him, but he’s already looking away, trying not to smile.

・Fingers twitching like he wants to touch your hair again but won’t; unless you ask.

“If it ever comes undone,” he adds quietly, “you know where to find me.”

𝑬́𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓 🏹

・He thinks of it as a challenge...straight away.

“You don’t think I can?”

"Ugh! That's not what I meant?"

"What did you mean?"

"Just wanted someone to braid my hair, you ass."

・You weren't even teasing him, but then it becomes a whole thing.

・He kneels down behind you like a man preparing for war. Cracks his knuckles. Rolls his shoulders. And in turn, you roll your eyes.

・When he actually starts, there's a shift. The bravado eases and he becomes focused.

・His rough fingers, to your surprise, are steady.

・And you can feel the care as well...and feel, a protective energy.

・Like if anyone tried to touch your braid he'd punch them.

・When he’s done? He absolutely beams. And before getting up, he tugs the end playfully, then stands back with his arms crossed.

"There. Just got your hair braided by a Third Marshal...that's got to be worth something."

・If someone compliments it later, he absolutely puffs up with pride (but plays it off like it was no big deal)

“Looks good doesn't it. I did it. She asked me. Only right I made sure it was done proper.”

・And although Eomer doesn’t say it out loud, in his mind he promises something wolfish and loyal:

No one touches what I’ve claimed with my hands.

𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒂��𝒊𝒓 🌾

・At first, he blinks—slow and surprised, like he thinks he misheard you.

“You would trust me with something so personal?”

・He isn't teasing. No, Faramir is genuinely honoured.

・Because he's the kind of man who sees tenderness as something rare and doesn’t take it lightly.

・You sit between his knees, and he treats your hair like something sacred.

・The word 'gentle' repeats in his head over and over.

・His hands are warm as he gathers your hair from your shoulders

・His fingers accidentally touch the bareness of your neck and goosebumps erupt.

・You go red; luckily he can't see your face.

・Faramir barely speaks, only jums softly under his breath; something old, maybe a lullaby he remembers from his mother.

・Every now and then he asks, in a light voice:

“Does this feel alright?” “Too tight?” “Shall I start again?”

・Once he's done, (he took his time on purpose), he wraps the end with a small ribbon.

One you didn't know he'd been keeping. As he ties it, it's as if he's sealing a promise.

・For a moment longer than they need to, his fingers linger.

“There. You’re ready to meet kings and storms alike.”

・And if you could see his face, you would notice a faint flush on his cheeks

・Like he's been given something sacred...and he hopes you'll ask him again tomorrow.

𝑮𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒇 🪄

・His first reaction is a slight chuckle, partially amused.

“My dear, it has been centuries since I was asked for that favor.”

・He takes a seat and motions for you to sit in front of him. Your legs are crossed on the floor, and your hands are fidgeting in your lap.

・You can feel his long, elegant fingers begin to pick up hair. A slight shiver runs down your spine at the image of it.

・At first he murmurs, in a language you do not know. But his voice is peaceful, and you can hear the chirping of night bugs.

・He knows exactly what he's doing. You’d expect an old wizard to fumble, but Gandalf’s hands are steady

・It takes a while, but the murmurs turn into little humming and you cannot help but smile.

・The braid is meticulous, elegant, maybe a little too perfect.

・You end up with something that feels sacred, like it should be worn into battle or a coronation.

・After he's done, he gives a small hum of approval. In a wistful voice he says:

“So the wind will not catch your thoughts and carry them away.”

・And then he lights his pipe, looks off toward the horizon, and pretends it was no big deal.

・...But for the rest of the journey, he walks a little closer to you.

[narxcisse]

— How they express their love.

– With: Shadow Milk, Burning Spice, Pure Vanilla, Dark Cacao, Clotted Cream, Espresso, Madeleine, Dark Choco, Black Sapphire, Red Velvet and Smoked Cheese.

– CW: none, I guess- + This is a gift for a friend who loves mischaracterization- This may not be 100% accurate because of that.

– Legendaries ver. here!

— A/N: Remember, requests are open! You can read my pinned post for more information. (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

— English isn't my native language.

— Shadow Milk

Love, to him, is a game—dangerous, dizzying, but always sincere behind the mask.

He’ll pull you into illusions, only to break them with a whisper of, “But this… this moment is real.”

He expresses affection in riddles, teasing smirks, and elaborate performances meant only for your eyes.

But in the quiet, when the lights fade, he rests his head in your lap like a tired actor offstage.

— Burning Spice

He doesn’t say “I love you.” He fights for you, bleeds for you, burns for you.

His love is fierce, raw—every touch is searing, every look charged with fire.

You’ll find it in the way he always places himself between you and danger, even if he jokes, “Don’t get soft on me.”

He teaches you how to wield strength, and admires when you stand tall next to him.

When he wraps his arms around you in the dead of night, heat humming beneath his dough, that’s when you hear it—“You’re the only calm I don’t want to destroy.”

— Pure Vanilla

His love is gentle and unwavering, like sunlight through stained glass.

He tends to your wounds, physical or not, with hands that tremble when you’re hurting.

He doesn’t need grand gestures; a quiet cup of tea with you, a moment of silence holding hands, is enough.

Still, he writes you letters when he misses you... Even if you’re just in the next room.

He looks at you like you’re something sacred. “In a world full of darkness, you are the reason I still choose to believe in light.”

— Dark Cacao

He’s not vocal with affection—but his love is a mountain: unmoving, unshakeable, ever-present.

He shows it in how he ensures your safety first in battle, how his presence silently lingers near you during hardship.

When he places his hand on your shoulder, it says more than a dozen confessions.

Sometimes, when the fire dies low and his armor is set aside, he’ll let you rest your head against his chest, his arms wrapped around you.

“You are my strength… not a weakness. Never a weakness.”

— Clotted Cream

Love, for him, is elegance—a strategic offer of heart amidst diplomacy and perfection.

He shows it in quiet moments, in the way his gloved fingers trace yours absentmindedly.

He ensures you are heard, defended, and respected in rooms full of power.

But in private, he lets the smile fall—soft, vulnerable, real.

“You are my sanctuary. When I speak to you, I don’t need to calculate my words.”

— Espresso

He shows love in acts of service—staying up all night to make your favorite brew just right.

You catch him putting your books back in order or scribbling your name into the margins of his notes.

He’ll scoff at romance, but his voice lowers when he calls your name, and his eyes soften when you enter the room.

He always makes space beside him for you, even in the most cramped of libraries.

“You are the one variable in life I will never seek to solve—only understand.”

— Madeleine

He loves like a knight from the old tales—dramatically, sincerely, and entirely.

Every chance he gets, he sings your praises, literally and figuratively.

He brings you flowers, recites sonnets (even if badly), and beams whenever you laugh.

When his guard lowers, he clings to you like the world finally makes sense.

“With you beside me, my light shines brighter. And I would guard yours with my life.”

— Dark Choco

He loves like someone who’s terrified to lose again.

He’ll hesitate, falter, but still offer you his hand, his broken heart.

He expresses it in protection, in the way his eyes always scan the room when you’re near.

When he trusts you enough to let you hold him, it means everything.

“I am… flawed. Tainted. But if I can protect you, maybe there’s still something good in me.”

— Black Sapphire

He flirts with the world, but reserves truth for you.

Behind the smooth-talking and half-smiles, he lets you see the silence—where real feeling lives.

He always has some gossip to tell you in the middle of the night before going to sleep, his voice a low murmur while he draws you closer to him, not wanting to be away from you.

He always knows how you feel before you speak, and shows up when you need him most.

“You’re the only script I never want to rewrite.”

— Red Velvet

Love to him is responsibility and loyalty—it’s consistency.

He’s softest when he’s with the Cake Hounds and you. You’re part of his family.

He remembers your likes, your habits, and makes adjustments in his plans to include you without a word.

He’s not showy, but every time he glances at you, there’s tenderness.

“I don’t say much… but you’re someone I fight for. Every day.”

— Smoked Cheese

He shows love like it’s a secret code—only noticeable if you know how to read it.

He’ll scoff, tease, and roll his eyes, but his body is always angled toward you, always attentive.

His gestures are subtle: pulling you behind him when danger arises, leaving food just the way you like it, keeping his eye on you when you think he isn’t.

When he lets you see his worry, his vulnerability, it means more than any grand confession ever could.

And if you ever get hurt? He loses it.

“You think I’m harsh? You should see how I act when I don’t care. …You’re lucky I do.”

[kxsagi]

Good morning, kxsagi. This is my second request and time for something funny. May I request: Blue Lock boys/men serenading Reader in the middle of the night in front of her apartment after a big argument. Cue Reader's neighbors throwing various household appliances at the boys/men. Characters: Chigiri, Yukimiya, Reo, Sae.

Bonus: Who has the perfect singing voice and who sings to the tune of 'off'?

P.S: Character list also applies to my previous request.

“𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞”

a/n: may this love find me 🧘🏻‍♀️

ft. chigiri hyoma, yukimiya kenyu, mikage reo, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei

chigiri hyoma

he shows up in a floor-length black coat, red hair slicked back, carrying a literal violin case like he’s about to perform with the tokyo philharmonic. 

stands under your apartment window like it’s romeo and juliet and dramatically tunes his violin at 2:06 AM. 

begins playing a thousand years with the solemnity of someone who’s lived through two world wars. 

whispers up at your window between phrases: “i’m sorry i called your skincare routine ‘excessive.’ i was lashing out. your serums are divine.” 

you peek through the blinds. your neighbor across the hall opens their window, yells “IT’S NOT EVEN THURSDAY,” and throws a bag of frozen dumplings. he dodges with an elegant twirl, doesn’t miss a beat. 

finishes the song by dramatically dropping to one knee, rain (from someone’s leaky AC unit) pouring down on him like it’s a movie scene. 

“please forgive me… i moisturized for you.” 

yukimiya kenyu

shows up in a turtleneck and a beret, carrying his acoustic guitar and looking like he just stepped out of a french indie film. 

stands under your window and softly croons a love song he wrote himself, called galactic destiny. 

“our energies collided in the constellation of fate...” 

his voice is breathy. emotional. you’re 90% sure he’s crying. your cat is watching with judgment. 

“i still believe in our spiritual link… even if you said my cologne makes your eyes itch.” 

some guy on the third floor screams, “TAKE THAT WEIRD SHAKESPEARE SHIT HOME!” and hurls a half-full bottle of body wash. 

yukimiya catches it, sniffs it, and smiles. “jasmine and mint... they have taste.” 

continues playing while crouching behind a parked moped for cover. ends the song with a whisper: “we were always written in the stars.” 

mikage reo

you hear commotion outside and think it’s a delivery truck. no. it’s reo... with a hired string quartet. 

four men in tuxedos are playing a sweeping instrumental while reo stands center stage, holding a bouquet and dramatically belting just the way you are, but off-key. 

“MY LOVE! i know i said you were being dramatic, but i meant it in a cute way!” 

he steps forward for the chorus and slips on someone’s garden hose. immediately recovers with a jazz hand flourish like nothing happened. 

someone yells “GO TO BED, RICHIE RICH!” and throws a keurig machine. reo ducks. it explodes behind him. 

“STILL RICH ENOUGH TO BUY ANOTHER ONE, LOSER!” 

you scream his name from the window. he looks up, eyes sparkling. ��are those tears? did i win?” 

you yell, “NO, THAT’S STEAM FROM MY INSTANT NOODLES.” 

itoshi sae

shows up holding a tiny bluetooth speaker over his head, playing baby come back on repeat. 

dressed like he was pulled out of bed – hoodie, slippers, bedhead, emotionally vacant expression. 

says nothing for the first five minutes. just stands. staring. speaker held like it’s part of a sacred ritual. 

finally mutters: “you were right. i do sleep better when you’re next to me. that’s... annoying.” 

you crack your window open, about to speak. someone from 2F yells “THIS ISN’T THE NOTEBOOK, ITOSHI” and launches a broom. 

it bonks him square in the back. he grunts. doesn’t even flinch. just adjusts his hood and says, “you done?” 

still doesn’t leave. just stands there as the song loops and loops. 

your neighbor tries throwing a slipper. sae finally looks up and mutters, “you throw like my 6-year-old cousin.” 

isagi yoichi

shows up holding an ukulele, googled chords five minutes ago. his phone is literally taped to the neck so he can read lyrics. 

“uh, i know we fought. but this is me saying i’m dumb... in music form.” 

starts strumming can’t help falling in love, and it is... so bad. you’re wondering if he’s dying or if he’s just tone-deaf. 

the guy upstairs opens his window: “YOICHI, I HAVE WORK IN THREE HOURS.” 

a sponge cake hits him in the shoulder. isagi doesn’t even blink. “this is the pain i deserve. i accept it.” 

plays the rest of the song slightly offbeat, his voice cracking like a broken recorder. 

finishes with: “please text me back. i can’t sleep. i tried cuddling my pillow and it insulted me.” 

itoshi rin

shows up with a cheap karaoke mic plugged into his phone. no backup dancers. no theatrics. just deep, painful regret. 

“this is stupid,” he mutters, then starts whisper-singing drivers license like it’s a confession in a crime drama. 

he looks physically ill trying to express emotion. “i miss you. i hate that i miss you. but i do. it sucks.” 

the old man across the street throws a half-eaten melon pan and yells, “GROW A PAIR!” 

rin stares at the pastry, then at you. “do i keep singing or do i fight him.” 

“you’re doing great,” you say, sobbing and laughing at the same time. 

“... shut up,” he mutters, cheeks pink. 

nagi seishiro

shows up in mismatched slides, pajama pants, and the hoodie you left at his place. looks like he rolled out of bed, forgot why he was outside, then remembered mid-yawn. 

brought a tiny keyboard he downloaded a piano app for five minutes ago. sets it down on the curb, squats, and starts plunking the keys like a toddler discovering sound. 

“hey... you up there? i came to… music you back into my life or whatever.” 

begins playing my heart will go on, but he only knows the first five notes. loops them. over. and over. and over. 

pauses to scratch his head. “ugh, this is so tiring. can’t you just forgive me so we can go back to sharing a blanket and eating cereal?” 

your upstairs neighbor opens her window and screams, “PLAY SOMETHING REAL OR GO HOME.” 

someone throws a remote control, which hits him directly in the forehead. he blinks. “ow.” 

lays down on the sidewalk. still pressing random piano keys while flat on his back. “baby, my head hurts. also, my soul. come down?” 

you yell, “YOU’RE NOT EVEN SINGING!” 

“i know. that’s for people who want to live. i just want you.” 

kaiser michael

brings a whole speaker setup with colored LED lights. ness is standing next to him with a mic like this is eurovision. 

kaiser opens with: “i know you’re mad, but i figured you couldn’t resist a man with this much jawline and jazz.” 

begins singing perfect by ed sheeran in german. ness harmonizes. badly. 

“baby, i’m dancing in ze dark– NESS, STAY ON KEY.” 

someone from 4B chucks a rice cooker. ness screams. kaiser DODGES and CATCHES IT ONE-HANDED. “you could’ve cracked my highlight.” 

turns back to your window, still holding the rice cooker. “was that a sign you want me to make dinner?” 

you yell, “NO, IT’S A SIGN TO SHUT UP.” 

“same thing,” he shrugs, then adds, “you still love me.” 

karasu tabito

no shirt. bluetooth speaker in hand. pants look like they were pulled on during a fire drill. is clearly mid-breakdown. 

starts playing a slow jam while doing interpretive body rolls across the sidewalk. 

“babe, i know i messed up when i said your playlist was trash, but i was TALKING OUT OF FEAR.” 

tries to moonwalk. trips over a bike. recovers by body-rolling again. 

someone flings a laundry basket. it hits him and bounces off like he’s made of rubber. “GOOD AIM, BRO,” he calls. 

to you: “please. just come downstairs. i brought strawberry gummies and emotional damage.” 

shidou ryusei

shows up in a fur coat and heart-print boxers, holding a megaphone and a rose between his teeth. 

“BABY, I’M HERE TO MAKE NOISE, BAD DECISIONS, AND WIN YOUR HEART BACK.” 

starts screaming the lyrics to bleeding love at top volume. not singing. SCREAMING. 

someone chucks a blender out the window. he catches it like a football. “DAMN, YOU GOT ARM STRENGTH. WANNA JOIN MY TEAM???” 

you stick your head out the window: “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING???” 

“PROVING THAT I’D RISK BEING BLUDGEONED FOR YOUR LOVE.” 

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT.” 

“YOUR IDIOT. NOW GET YOUR SEXY ASS DOWN HERE.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n #2: @store-lover made this pic and it's perfect for kaiser's

[ghelullu]

Okay I survived this ritual surprisingly and wrote down a few thoughts, in a mostly chronological order and I probably forgot 90848 things

Tldr: Absolutely fabulous 20/10 he sounds amazing and he looked so happy the whole time

Spoilers under the break(also for length of rambling) :)

octogonal (with the usual nose in the middle) stage setup, they can walk around the while thing now (a bit similar to the cardi days setup but no elevation in the back)

No new ghouls except for the one new ghoulette, also none of the "more ghouls" that were spoken of in that one interview

Peacefield sounds cool!!!

Lachryma live is 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽he did the high notes himself!

Spirit! Pinnacle!! So much meliora on the setlist!

Papa talked very little sadly, but when he did it was fun! No accent, too!

He said he's new and asked us to be nice to him since it's his first time; then wanted us to treat him rough instead after someone said no

Almost ran the mic stand over during ftpttp

Entertainer!Phantom!! He was phenomenal the whole night tbh, incredible guitar player

Papa in full robes sitting in the back of the stage being lifted by some thingy while singing Majesty (hands free mic!)

TFIAL made the audience go crazy, changed the lyrics to 2034

Cirice without wings

DATHOML! Much better live than I expected honestly

I think he has a screen now at the front of the stage where he can read lyrics? Not sure though, but from my seat it looked a bit like it, good for him

Still managed to miss some and now we know his "fuck, wrong lyrics" face

FACE! SO MANY SMILES AND FACES HE MAKES!!

No really, he looked SO happy seeing everyone vibe and sing 20/10

Big robes only made an appearance for majesty, other than that It was a black leather jacket with batwing seams on the bottom, the silver jacket (it has a sparkly grucifix on the back), the cassock (BEDAZZLED SPINE AND RIBS AND HIP BONE AND TAIL????) and a pink jacket for squammer

"Whoo!" - Papa V

Appeared from below the stage via trap door to deliver a cowbell to Swiss lmao, umbra rocked - but the mix was bad, you could barely hear his singing, sadly

He sounds amazing without the mask

Especially the new songs are sung rather raspy, incredibly hot. Older songs sound more copia/terzo, but I assume that will change as usual, transitions are never immediate with him

In general he's very copia, but moves different than him, less focused and dancer-y, more.... Theatrical, joyful idk the right word?

In general less horny than copia, fewer action in mummy dust(jumped kneeling on the stairs though), no fingering in ritual, no serpent deceive, etc, but some thrusting in dance macabre etc hehe

The way he ran to change into the cassock for year zero rip, man was in a HURRY

The explosion at the end of year zero shattered the stained glass backdrop and then he performed he is in front of the splintered glass, beautifully done, especially as it reassembled into a religious image again

Generally lots of cool effects for the backdrop during majesty too and then afterwards BECAUSE

for rats the whole backdrop exploded, the church architecture deflated! and it was performed in front of a wasteland, super cool

Frater money!

Really his facial expressions the whole time help

lipstick was GONE

I can't read my notes anymore lmao

He said he's only there to show up and shake ass and that's what he did

MONSTRANCE CLOCK - HE DID THIS FOR MEEEE

Encore was the usual (Good!!!) and there were so many people left after monstrance clock lmao???

Inrpobably forgot a ton but holy moly that was so much and so cool and he sounds SO GOOD I CAN'T SAY IT ENOUGH, he looked extremely happy and comfortable, it was nice to see, audience was great and engaged, the whole new setup is very cool (and expensive looking damn)

10/10

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So what is the canon info that we have on Neige Leblanche? Like from the canon story and the special event like Glorious Masquerade.

Neige is 172 cm tall.

He is a sophomore at Royal Sword Academy, so he is ~17 years old.

Neige is considered “the most likable celebrity in the world”. He is known for “his disarming good looks and approachable nature”.

According to Mira, Neige been called pretty/beautiful more times than Vil has (based on Magicam comments).

Cater says that Neige is a top Magicam influencer.

Vil is often playing Neige’s evil counterpart in various productions. For example, he was given the offer to play the villain in the sequel to Legendary Sword, while Neige was to play the hero.

The rivalry between Vil and Neige appears to be entirely one-sided. Neige seems oblivious to Vil’s hostility and resentment of him, acting very friendly and inviting Vil to join him for singing and dancing.

His fan club name is “Eternal Snow”. Rook is its second ever member.

In Glorious Masquerade, Neige throws himself in front of fire lotuses to save Rook and Epel.

The Seven Dwarves state that they want to win the Harveston Sledathon so that they can share luck with everyone and make the world a happier place. “We know we can't make everyone happy all by ourselves. But if those close to us can be happier, like Neige... Then when other people see his smile, it'll lift their spirits! That's how we want to share it.”

The first time Vil co-starred in a movie with him, Neige would frequently leave. He would do his chores, attend rehersal, then go home and do more chores. He'd practice for the movie in what little spare time he had, and still always managed to cheerily greet Vil.

Neige has lived with the dwarves for years. They have been supporting each other for a long time (since he was child) and do not seem to have any adults in their lives.

Neige has never divulged his personal history to the press.

Rook states that Neige’s smile is that of “someone who’s overcome untold hardships. That’s why so many people are drawn to it.”

He apparently donates most of his pay to charity in order to aid underprivileged children with their futures. This is also something undisclosed to the public, but is known among his most dedicated of fans.

Like Vil, Neige was a child actor.

He won the title of Best Actor at the prestigious annual Diamond Movie Awards. Neige is considered the youngest recipient at 14 years old.

He calls Vil “Vii-kun”.

Rook calls him “Roi de Neiges”.

Rook had trouble expressing his emotions as a child—until the fateful day that he watched the musical King’s Road, which started Neige as the lead. The entire performance and its combined elements brought Rook to tears.

The very first time Rook dressed up to attend a performance was after he transferred to Pomefiore from Savanaclaw. Vil helped him get ready to see a show starting Neige.

Neige is seen in commercials for Red Apple Soda and Félicité Cosmetics’ Precious Protection Foundation in book 5.

Neige says he hasn’t seen Vil since the last movie they filmed together.

Neige is described as having perfectly choreographed walking and talking. His aura is also described as less intense and less glamorous than Vil’s, his smile like “a tiny flower blooming in an open field.” NPCs also call him very “accessible”, “friendly”, and wholesome”.

Neige is happy to hear Vil singing; he compliments Vil’s voice and calls it “absolutely incredible”. He also tells Vil that he looks forward to their VDC/SDC performance and encourages Vil after NRC’s loss.

Vil and Neige’s first production together was a musical drama set in a school. Neige was the star and Vil was their bully.

Neige chooses to perform an arrangement of a popular nursery song from the Shaftlands for VDC/SDC. He says he chose it because he “[wanted] to have a fun time and [to] share it with everybody watching the SDC. [He] figured something familiar would be the way to go [… he] wanted to share some special memories with [his] friends at school. […] if [they] could get the whole world to sing along with [them], it would make for an experience [Neige and the dwarves would] treasure forever.”

He’s been wanting to try apple juice from the Felmier family farm ever since Vil made a post about it on Magicam.

Neige was hypnotized by Jamil to sing for the cultural fair attendees. This served as a useful distraction while Yuu and co. dealt with OB Vil.

He seems to enjoy singing with others, be it the Seven Dwarves, NRC students, or whoever else wishes to join.

Neige recognizes Rook as “R”, a fan who goes to every single one of his meet-and-greets and writes him letters. R also buys each of his photos at fan events and composes poems to share his impressions of each photograph. In fact, Rook brought his Neige photo album with him to Ramshackle for their training camp!

Neige was surprised to find out R was a man, but quickly accepted it and encouraged Rook to please sign with his full name in future letters.

Jamil remarks that Neige handles situations with grace. “He's a leading global celebrity, but he still treats fans warmly and attentively. That's definitely a strength.”

Neige had never seen Vil cry outside of acting until NRC’s loss at VDC/SDC.

A movie adaptation of a children's novel starring Neige (~11 years old at the time) pulled in twenty million madol/thaumarks its first week.

[deonsx]

Hii, this is my first time requesting but I love your writing 🔥🔥 Can I request bllk boys (specifically Bachira and Rin 💥) with their s/o being recorded/violated in public? This happened to me sometime this year and I wanted some comfort. It's okay if you don't feel comfortable writing this, so no pressure. Thank you!!

First of all, I am very sorry about the situation you are experiencing, I hope this post makes you happy +Nagi is here

Rin Itoshi

The two are walking through a bustling city square, hand in hand, when Rin notices something unsettling a man with a phone pointed suspiciously in their direction. His sharp gaze locks onto the individual

“Stay close to me” he mutters, his grip tightening around her hand. The man’s behavior becomes increasingly obvious, his phone aimed squarely at her. Rin’s blood boils. Before his girlfriend can say anything, Rin strides toward the man, his towering frame radiating menace

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rin’s voice is low but filled with an edge that cuts through the noise. The man stammers, attempting to excuse himself, but Rin is having none of it. In one swift motion, he snatches the phone, his speed honed from years on the field. A quick check reveals the worst photos and videos clearly taken without consent

Rin’s jaw tightens as his anger surges “Delete it. Now” The man hesitates, but Rin’s piercing glare and firm stance make it clear there’s no room for negotiation. With a trembling hand, the man complies, erasing every file under Rin’s watchful eye satisfied but still seething

Rin hurls the phone back at the man, his expression ice-cold “If I see you again, you’ll regret it” He turns to his girlfriend, his anger melting into concern. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?” His hands cup her face, scanning for any signs of distress

“I’m fine Rin Thank you…” she whispers, her voice shaky. Rin pulls her into a protective hug, his tone softening “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever”

From that moment on, Rin becomes even more protective, ensuring she’s always safe when they’re out together. Though shaken, his unwavering support reassures her, proving just how deeply he cares

Bachira Meguru

Today, he had whisked his girlfriend to a lively park filled with street performers and food stalls. His playful energy was infectious, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as they explored

However, Bachira’s keen eyes noticed something unsettling a man nearby with his phone out, clearly focused on his girlfriend. The easygoing smile on Bachira’s face faded slightly as he tilted his head, his sharp instincts kicking in “Hey, babe” he said softly, his usual sing-song tone subdued. “Stay here for a sec, ‘kay?”

Before she could ask why, Bachira was already moving toward the man, his steps light but purposeful. The guy didn’t even notice until Bachira was right in front of him, his golden eyes gleaming with a dangerous edge “Yo~!” Bachira chirped, a mischievous grin on his face. “Whatcha filming?”

The man stammered, caught off guard by Bachira’s sudden approach. He tried to deny it, but Bachira leaned in, his smile widening in a way that wasn’t entirely friendly “Lemme see” he said, plucking the phone from the man’s hands with startling speed. His eyes scanned the screen, confirming his suspicions—photos and videos of his girlfriend

Bachira’s grin didn’t waver, but his tone darkened. “You know, it’s kinda creepy to record people without asking. Don’t you think?” He quickly deleted everything, his fingers moving deftly over the screen. Once done, he handed the phone back with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal

“But hey, if you’re bored, you should try filming squirrels or something. Way more fun.” His voice was light, but his eyes held a warning that made the man quickly retreat. Returning to his girlfriend, Bachira’s usual playfulness was back, though a protective arm found its way around her waist

“Problem solved!” he said cheerfully, nuzzling her shoulder “You okay? That guy was super weird, huh?” She nodded, still a bit shaken, and Bachira pulled her closer, his warmth reassuring

“Don’t worry~” he said with a wink “Nobody’s gonna mess with my favorite person. I’ll scare ‘em all away if I have to!”

Nagi Seishiro

They were browsing through a small outdoor market when Nagi noticed something strange a guy lingering nearby, his phone tilted suspiciously in their direction. Nagi’s sharp instincts caught on immediately

“Hey” he said softly, nudging his girlfriend closer to him. His usually laid-back tone was heavier, more serious “Stay near me for a second” Before she could ask why, Nagi’s eyes locked onto the man. The stranger’s phone was unmistakably aimed at her. A rare spark of irritation flared in Nagi’s normally placid demeanor

In a few long strides, Nagi was in front of the guy, his tall frame towering effortlessly. He tilted his head slightly, his pale eyes half-lidded but sharp “What’re you doing with that?” he asked, his voice calm yet laced with an unmistakable edge. The man fumbled for an excuse but Nagi didn’t wait. With surprising swiftness, he snatched the phone. A quick swipe revealed photos and videos of his girlfriend

“That’s annoying” Nagi muttered, his brows furrowing. Without hesitation, he deleted every file, his movements deliberate. Once done, he handed the phone back, his expression unreadable “Don’t do it again,” he said simply, his voice low but firm “Next time, I won’t be this nice”

The man quickly disappeared, and Nagi returned to his girlfriend, his face softening “Sorry about that” he said, his hand slipping into hers. “Didn’t mean to make a scene. You okay?”

She nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. Nagi noticed and pulled her into a gentle embrace, resting his chin on her head “It’s fine” he murmured, his voice soothing “No one’s gonna mess with you when I’m around”

Enjoy!

[lay-z]

Thinking about steamy shower sex with a pent up and touch starved soap after his deployment, you would have sent him countless teasing pictures and videos throughout his mission and now he is aching to get bay back by hoisting you up and pressing against the glass door of the shower cabin with your legs wrapped around his muscular and chiseled waist/hips. Could you please write something about that ? I'm definitely aching to read it with your writing style

Thank you for your ask, nonny! 🥰 Since you didn’t specify a gender, I’m going to go with female!Reader since that’s what I always do. Btw, I’d totally write for a x male!Reader if someone would request something. *hint hint* 👀 And if you can’t tell, I am a huge slut for desperate and needy men 😩 Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you’d asked for! 🩷 xoxo

MDNI, 18+ | tw: slight cnc kink; shower sex; needy/desperate!Soap; unprotected sex/creampie; premature ejaculation; not proof-read

Johnny catches you off guard while you’re taking a shower; singing and performing for an imaginary crowd like you always do when you’re in a particularly good mood.

Your eyes are squeezed shut to keep the shampoo from stinging them; the hot shower stream is pelting down on your flushed skin, steaming up the cabin and turning the glass foggy while your head it tipped back as you wash the suds from your hair, still humming a tune like a true Disney princess.

You stand no chance like this. Johnny could hear you as soon as he’d unlocked the front door to your shared flat, dropping his heavy duffel back in the entrance hallway and kicking off his boots with a soft huff. His bad knee is aching, his whole body sore like he got run over by a Humvee, but he can deal with the physical pain.

It’s the way his chest feels tight and hollow simultaneously, his rugged features set in an emotionless frown, which has him more worried as he passes by the small vintage mirror mounted above the shoe rack in the hallway. He’s practically gone non-verbal since stepping foot onto the airfield back on base. His dark stubble has grown out as much as his Mohawk, the bags under his eyes darker; his usually bright eyes now dull with fatigue, giving him a grim expression.

With his last shreds of energy, he starts peeling off his combat clothes on his way towards the bathroom, groaning under his breath as he pulls the tight compression shirt over his head, muscles screaming and aching with the effort as he lifts his arms up. His pants follow, along with his boxer briefs, and Johnny wrinkles his nose at his own body odour; the stench of sweat and blood and death lingering in every crease, caked into his pores. Steamin’ Jesus, he smells ripe…

But you’ll make it better, you always do. He can already feel your phantom touch on his bruised skin; soft palms running over his body, slicked up by nicely scented soap and warm water, and you’ll learn it all anew after weeks apart from each other. Johnny lets out a shuddering groan while his cock starts swelling and twitching, blood rushing in his veins by the sheer imagination of you touching him.

He doesn’t announce himself, can’t even crack a smile at the sight of you, when he sneaks into the bathroom. He’s not even trying to be quiet, but the way his mind is still in the field, makes him watch his steps and open the door in a way that’s silent.

When he slips into the shower cabin behind you, still so blissfully unaware of his presence, his chest expands with a deep breath, inhaling the moist and sweet air. His cock is rock hard, ruddy tip weeping against his lower stomach, coating his bushy pubes with his thick precum; thick and milky, because he hasn’t come in days and his balls are hurting as bad as the rest of his body.

Your eyes shoot open despite the suds still running down your face when you’re grabbed from behind; lungs burning with a sudden, instinctual shriek ripped from your throat, though it’s immediately muffled by a large, grubby hand clasping over your mouth while another strong arm wraps around your midriff, pinning your arms to your sides before pulling your back flush against a solid and equally naked body.

You know it’s him, your Johnny. There is no one else, beside his teammates perhaps, who could break into your flat. The feeling of his body moulding itself behind you, his hand over your mouth, lips latching onto and biting down on the curve of your shoulder while his beard irritates your warm skin – it’s all too familiar to be anyone else. Still, your heart is hammering violently against your ribcage while the lack of oxygen in your lungs is slowly making you dizzy. You slump back against Johnny and he catches you with a pleased rumble in his buff, hairy chest.

“Missed ye.” That’s all he murmurs against your ear at first, gruff and raspy like he hasn’t spoken all day, while your blood keeps rushing with adrenaline; shower stream still steadily raining down on you.

You whimper against his palm, in the far back of your throat, nostrils’ flaring with sharp intakes of breath as your body tries to calm down from the initial shock.

His arm loosens around your waist and he rubs his hand in large circles over your soft, wet stomach instead, wanting to get rid of the dirt and grime before he’d even consider touching your delicate pussy, no matter how desperate he’s feeling for you.

“Need ye, hen,” he mutters, tongue flicking your ear lobe while his hand over your mouth cups you right below your jaw next, “Need ta feel yer warm cunny squeezin’ ma cock. Fuck–! Can I?”

When you’re able to slip your arms free of his grasp, you reach for his hand on your belly, lifting it up to inspect it for any new cuts and bruises as you wash it for him while he’s already grinding his cock against your ass cheeks, his breathing becoming ragged against the nape of your neck. You can already tell in what state of mind he’s in, your poor, sweet Johnny.

And you’re not even ashamed of how slick your pussy has gotten since Johnny grabbed you, when there was a split second when your brain and body had braced themselves for–

Something dark and twisted you shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

“Missed you, too, baby,” you manage to reply when his now clean hand slips between your thighs to cup your pussy. “Take what you need. I’m all yours.”

Johnny whines, breath catching in his chest when he can already feel his balls tighten, painfully so, while his meaty fingers drag through your smooth folds, feeling your warmth and slick arousal, before he rubs your swelling clit roughly. Your flesh is soft and warm, supple under the pressure of his fingertips, unlike the cold steel and metal he’s been handling for the past weeks on his deployment.

He snarls and huffs against your shoulder when your quaking thighs squeeze his prodding hand after he slipped two fingers into your sopping hole at once, and he fingers you slowly and deeply until he feels your velvety walls loosen up around his digits, clamping down whenever he curls his fingers to nudge your sweet spot while he gropes your sudsy tits and tugs on your pretty nipples with his other hand, keeping you pressed against his body.

But his patience and need for you start to overwhelm him as his cock keeps straining and leaking against your ass, begging to be sheathed inside of your welcoming cunt with a mind of its own.

“Turn ‘round f’me,” he growls, already turning you around to him by your shoulders to finally catch a glimpse of your beautiful face and heated gaze. His cock twitches; another desperate whine is torn from his throat. “C’mere.”

He positions his feet carefully on the ceramic tiles, braces himself to support both your bodies as he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, fingers digging into skin and fat as he hoists you up and pushes you against the slippery shower wall. When your back arches away from the sudden chill of the tiles and your lips part with a breathy gasp, Johnny doesn’t hesitate to crush his lips onto yours, licking into your mouth obscenely just to feel and taste as much as he can at once.

He keeps your thighs spread wide apart and pliant for him, his own hips slotting between your legs, muscles bunching and flexing with exertion as he keeps you pinned against the wall while your arms wrap around his muscular shoulders. He’s grimacing at the burning ache in his body as he holds you, but he needs you. Fuck, he needs you so badly; panting and groaning into your mouth, brows furrowed in concentration as he grinds his flushed cock against your folds desperately.

And his eyes squeeze shut with a shuddering breath when you reach down between your bodies to grasp his thick cock and push it into your quivering hole for him.

His head drops forward with a rough moan, so loud and desperate that it resonates inside the bathroom, and his forehead rests against your collarbone as he sinks deeper into your warm, welcoming channel without any resistance. He can tell that you’re aroused for him, that you need him as much as he needs you, and it nearly makes him dizzy.

His muscles start trembling when he starts thrusting slowly and shallowly, barely able to move at all while his ass cheeks tighten and flex as your cunt flutters around his shaft, sucking him in deeper until he bottoms out. The way you moan so sweetly for him and the warm water raining down on the both of you continuously, only adds to the pleasurable sensations, forcing Johnny to relax and cave in while the tight coil in his belly teeters on snapping already.

Johnny grits his teeth and can barely speak, his words coming out a garbled mess. “Fuck–F-Fuck… ‘m gonna cum, hen. ‘m so sorry.”

He apologizes, feels terrible for disappointing you like this again, but you simply wrap your arms tighter around his neck, holding him together and breaking him apart as you whisper sweet nothing’s into his ear. His balls tighten and the pressure almost brings him to his knees, but he manages to catch himself at the last moment before he cries out and buries his face into your neck to muffle his pathetic sounds while his cock pumps his thick load into your eager pussy, coating and claiming your gummy walls with his cum.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.” Johnny keeps chanting and whining against your wet skin, mouthing along the curve of your neck while he keeps rolling his hips into you desperately, fucking himself through overstimulation and exhaustion just to try and make you feel good, too, while you hush and coo praises into his ear, carding your fingers through his hair soothingly.

[gdinthehouseee]

Read Your Mind (CHAPTER 2): CHOI SEUNGHYUN x READER

summary: after the clip of seunghyun admitting his crush goes viral, all eyes are on you.

word count: 1355

tags: fluff, slow burn, smau elements

series masterlist

The low hum of the dressing room surrounded you—zippers tugging, brushes tapping against compacts, your manager murmuring quietly into a headset in the corner. A warm spotlight buzzed overhead, catching the subtle shimmer of the crystals stitched into your performance outfit, making them glint each time you shifted.

You sat perched on the edge of the plush velvet couch, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, heel bouncing in a slow, nervous rhythm. The fabric of your outfit felt snug and expensive against your skin, but your mind wasn’t on that. Not on the stage. Not even on the lyrics you were about to sing.

Your thumb scrolled absently over your screen, chasing distraction. The familiar bright blue of trending tags glared back at you: your name sat comfortably in the top five. Again. Not unusual on award nights.

But then you saw another name beside it: Choi Seunghyun.

And right below that…

“T.O.P exposed on lie detector over Y/N.”

“He’s so done with them LMFAO the way he lied so confidently—”

“Wait so… he does like her???”

Your thumb paused. Apprehension and adrenaline stirred under your skin.

You tapped the clip. It was grainy, the kind of screen-recorded fan upload that someone had already slapped a screaming caption over in neon font. But the audio was clear. The boys were sat around, relaxed and teasing each other as usual. A laugh track played over their voices, but the tension beneath the banter was real.

A voice off-screen, likely the host or a production assistant of the show, cheerfully piped up. “Let’s just get this out of the way. Do you like Y/N?”

You could hear Daesung and Jiyong snort in the background. Youngbae was already grinning like he knew what was coming. Seunghyun didn’t flinch, his expression unreadable. That same effortless cool he wore like armour.

“I don’t like her like that.”

Smooth. Measured. Unbothered.

The lie detector lit up like a war siren.

The studio erupted. Jiyong launched himself backward, laughing while clutching his chest in mock betrayal. Daesung howled, smacking the table like it personally offended him. Youngbae started clapping as if he knew the answer all along, purely amused at the exposure. Even Seunghyun cracked, startled into a short, dry laugh as he glanced down at the machine like it had betrayed him.

You stared at your screen, lips slightly parted.

The clip was only a few seconds long. You watched it three times. The way he said it. The subtle pause afterward. The shift in his eyes. And then the tiniest smile—crooked and flustered—curling at the corner of his mouth. Something fluttered in your chest. You weren't sure if it was panic or something sweeter.

A knock came at the door. Your stylist’s voice floated in, calling your name. “Five minutes. They’re getting the stage ready.”

You didn’t answer right away.

Your phone screen dimmed in your hand, leaving your reflection ghosted in the black glass. The light caught the glitter dusted across your collarbone. You looked… composed. Regal. Every inch the popular solo idol you are to the world. But inside? A mess of butterflies. You closed your eyes for a moment, pressing your lips together.

Then your earpiece buzzed.

“Three minutes. You’re next after the MCs.”

You set your phone down, screen-side down, as if the weight of that one clip could burn through it.

Tonight, you were singing a stripped-down version of your latest single: a confession dressed as a melody. A song about frustration, about yearning. About how exhausting it was to keep pretending you didn’t feel something just because you were afraid the other person wouldn’t say it first. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

You stood, smoothing down your outfit with careful hands, your heart still thudding softly behind your ribs.

If he was watching tonight—and you knew he would be—you hoped he listened closely. 

You were about to sing the truth.

The moment you stepped onto the stage, the noise of the arena softened into a distant roar — like the ocean heard through glass. Your heels echoed against the high-gloss floor, stage lights casting a silver halo around you as you walked slowly to the centre. You adjusted the mic stand with deliberate grace, fingers cool against the metal. Behind you, the LED screen began its slow bloom: soft washes of colour, warm tones, bleeding reds, dusky pinks, and gold blooming like a heart exposed. City lights blurred into fog. A silhouette reaching out but never touching.

A hush swept the crowd. Then the first piano note rang out, clear and aching.

You closed your eyes briefly. Not to find the note, but to steady your breath.

The camera pushed in slowly from stage right. This was live. Millions watching. Aired in real-time, with subtitles already trailing below. You were used to that. You knew how to carry your expressions just enough. Hold your voice at the perfect quiver. Sell the emotion.

But tonight wasn’t about selling.

Tonight was about your bleeding heart.

Your voice drifted into the air like a secret. The kind you whisper into a pillow, not expecting to be heard.

Somewhere in the first verse, the camera cut to the audience.

Rows of idols, industry staff, cameras flashing from the pit. Beautiful people, stiff in their formalwear, nodding along politely. You didn’t look yet, not until the second verse, when the strings curled beneath your voice and something inside you tugged.

You lifted your gaze. Just for a moment. The camera didn’t cut away.

There, seated near the center in the front row were the BigBang boys and, more importantly, Seunghyun. Sharp in a tailored dark jacket, one leg crossed, a single silver ring glinting on his hand. His chin rested lightly against steepled fingers, mouth unreadable. Eyes fixed on you.

You faltered—only slightly. A breath caught in your throat. Not enough for the crowd to notice. But the camera caught the shift; caught the way your eyes locked with his. Caught how long they stayed there.

Suddenly, the air felt different.

The camera lingered.

Too long for it to be a coincidence.

“If I say your name, will you stay?”

It was the line that always left you raw. Tonight, it landed harder. You swore you saw Seunghyun’s jaw twitch like he’d swallowed something that wanted out.

You didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

The camera held it—live, streaming to fans around the world—two idols, eyes locked across the room, wrapped in a love song too honest to pretend it wasn’t personal. 

In the wings, your manager visibly froze behind the curtain. Backstage staff exchanged glances. Whispered. Even some of the idols seated nearby noticed. Youngbae, seated beside Seunghyun, leaned slightly in his direction, one brow raised. He didn’t laugh. He just looked like he knew something the rest of the room didn’t.

You broke eye contact first, smoothly turning your head as the bridge crested.

“Say it scared. Say it.”

The final line lingered on your lips like a dare. You didn’t sing it gently. You let it settle in your voice. Bold, tired, sharp. A truth too long buried. Then the final note. A soft chord. A breath. 

The lights dimmed to black.

The audience erupted into applause, polite at first, then louder. But even as you dipped your head in a graceful bow, your heart hadn’t stopped racing. The moment between you and him still hung in the air like a spark suspended in time. You walked offstage slowly, aware of every camera flash, every eye, every thought that would spiral from that one locked gaze.

Back in the wings, your phone was already vibrating. You didn’t pick it up yet.

Behind you, someone whispered, “that looked intense.”

It did look intense.

Because it was.

But you kept walking, your heels quiet against the backstage floor, face unreadable. Somewhere behind you, still seated in that arena under fading lights, Seunghyun watched you disappear into the wings — eyes still trained on the spot where you’d been. Neither of you had said a single word.

But everyone watching tonight knew something had changed.

taglist: @loveesiren @aizshallnotbefound @mashtatosworld @modzmadness @flymetothexmoon @moontabi @riddlerloveb0t @crashmunson @gdoddity @xxxicddbr88 @nsainmoonchild @sherrayyyyy @breakmeoff @raynamorono23 @moonqz @lilshu65 @ttturnitup @sherxoo @ninnys @kuntix @carrotheadedtoast @rememberbackintheday @madzzz0707 @bettelaboure @mattsturniolosbabymama @shieraseastarrs @madebybec @starrgirll444 @steponupbabe @smokingblossoms

[spideyjimin]

Adieu mon amour | jjk

⤷ adieu mon amour, french for goodbye my love

—  pairing: jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: angst 

—  summary: jungkook released two days ago a song about saying goodbye to a loved one.

—  words: 894

—  warnings: crying, mention of dead, heartbreak, and grief

—  author’s note: sooo this extremely sad drabble was written a while ago, but i never felt confident to post it. but a french artist released a song called “adieu mon amour”, and somehow, i felt like i could post this. i lost two dear people not a long time ago and writing this helped me putting into words my grief. this is not perfect and might contain mistakes, but i don’t want this to be perfect because pain isn’t.

MASTERLIST

The crowd fills the concert hall with the soft glow of their phone lights. Jungkook sits at the piano, his fingers resting on the keys as he performs the song he just released. It’s a heartbreaking ballad. A ballad that tells the story of two people that never got their happy ending. A ballad that tells his story with you.

A week ago, he found out that you passed away. The pain he felt that moment was something he never felt before. It’s the kind of pain that eats you alive. His heart aches so much and sometimes he feels like he’d be able to rip it out from his chest. This pain is simply overwhelming.

Three days ago, he assisted to your funeral with an aching heart, shaky legs, swollen eyes, and tears streaming down his face. He never imagined saying goodbye to his first love. He never imagined you’d no longer be a part of his life at 27. He never imagined a life without you.

His sweet voice sings the first notes of the song, his mind brought back to the many memories he cherishes. He closes his eyes and let your smile irritate his world one more time. A smile he’ll never see again. Without realizing it, tears run down his face, but he doesn’t hold them back.

After your funeral, he received a letter. A letter you wrote right before dying. A letter he never imagined receiving. It’s a love letter you wrote months ago, one where you told him just how much you love him. In the entire page, you kept telling him how lucky you felt to have him by your side all these years. And you also kept mentioning how proud you were of him.

He never leaves without the letter. He carries it with him everywhere. It’s all he has left of you. Your final words, the love you left behind, something to hold onto in a world without you. It’s a symbolic way to carry you with him as you are no longer here. The mere thought that you won’t be home when he finishes his show breaks his heart in ways he can even express.

His voice breaks. Then he hears you. ‘I love you.’ The words cut through him. His heart bleeds, and he doesn’t know if he can finish the song. His manager told him earlier that he didn’t need to sing the song if it was too hard for him, but Jungkook wanted it. Jungkook wanted to do it for you. For the only woman he ever loved.

Even though there’s a knot in his throat, he keeps singing. He wants to finish the song for you. For the love of his life. For the only person that ever made his heart truly beat. It seems like it’s the only thing he can do right now. For you, he can find the strength to finish this song.

He never imagined himself writing and singing this type of song. He never imagined writing a song about losing someone, and that’s the most heartbreaking thing. But music is the one of the few things that keeps him going. If he stops for a second, he just falls apart. He could have taken a break, put this world tour on hold, but for his own sanity, he can’t. And he knows that the second the show ends, he’ll just cry his heart out.

‘How is he supposed to live without you?’ is the question that constantly echoes in his mind. Time seems to move so slow without you by his side, and he doesn’t know if he can bear all of this any longer. There’s only been a week, and he still has a lifetime to live.

But there’s the little Arya. Your daughter. She’s the reason why Jungkook keeps going. She’s the reason why he bears this pain. She’s only four and doesn’t deserve to lose her mother. She doesn’t deserve any of this, just like Jungkook.

Jungkook opens his eyes and finally looks at the crowd. The view is breathtaking. This is so beautiful. On top of it, he’s surprised to notice that some fans already know the lyrics to the song he released two days ago.

The other heartbreaking thing is the fact that nobody knows what and who this song refers to. Nobody knows it’s about losing a loved one. Nobody will ever know Jungkook just lost you and how much he loved you. People don’t even know about Arya because he always protected you and will forever do it.

“I hear your laughter everywhere,” he sings. “In my souvenirs of you.”

From wherever you are, he hopes you can hear his words and see this crowd, his fans. If you were still here, you would most probably shed a tear. Whenever there was a sad song, the beauty of the moment would made you cry. It was something he loved about you.

The last harmonies of the song echo in the room. Jungkook is already sad to finish this song. He doesn’t want it. He wants this song to last forever, but he knows he can’t. He engraves in his soul this painfully beautiful moment, and he knows he’ll hold it dearly in his heart.

And he finally says the last words of the song.

“Goodbye my love.”

[secretlovezz]

Strutter

Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: Eddie isn't expecting to meet someone as metal as you during his night out.

Warnings: Fem!reader and mentions of alcohol but I think that's it

Wordcount: 1,574

When the guys convinced Eddie to get out and go with the lot of them to see this new up and coming band at The Hideout he was expecting anything but this. Usually when a band or solo artist played it was to a handful of drunks looking to find a distraction in mediocre music, bad drinks, and even worse food. No one expects the people who play to be the next musical genius and that's why so many newcomers find themselves there, looking to gain more experience performing in front of people. So when he walks through the paint chipped door to find it actually crowded he’s a little confused. Sure every once in a while there were days where there were more people than normal hanging around the bar or squishing themselves into booths with friends, but never had he seen it this packed. 

Tonight there are less older, overworked men looking to down themselves in lukewarm beer, though some still lingered, and more of a younger audience. College kids circle with their respective groups cups of something fruity sloshing while they dance with no care for who is surrounding them. Laughing with friends and yelling lyrics along with the lead singer of the band on the stage. Guitar riffs echo throughout the stuffy room and the rhythmic pounding of drumkits shakes the room in company with the ecstatic jumping of tipsy young adults.

The music.

He’s only just now truly registered it and he isn’t sure how he could have possibly ignored it until now. It’s loud, not in an annoying ear piercing way but in a way that reaches and entraps every member of the audience. The harmonies of not only the people who made up this band but the instruments too create a beautiful symphony. The band was a metal one, the overpowering energy that seeped from the stage when he walked in was enough to tell him that.

He takes a moment to really look at all the members. The drummer has long silky blonde hair that really adds a certain dramatic flair to his performance, strands moving into aggressive waves as his head moves up and down in the same passionate rhythm that his arms move to beat against the kits. The bassist has short dark hair gelled into spikes, he wears a shredded tank top that doesn’t actually cover much, and sports an expressive face that reminds Eddie much of himself. The last member, the lead singer and guitarist, is one he spends more time looking at than he did the others.

She’s stunning, Eddie thinks, the very embodiment of beauty. You sing like your life depends on it, voice enthralling- he couldn’t take his eyes off of you and couldn’t hear as Gareth called out to him. Your fingers move almost gracefully, fervently, against the strings of your guitar. The sweet smile that stretches across your face, focusing on the crowd and glancing around at the faces, as you continue your way through the set makes him melt. He savors the sight of you, blood rushing with a sudden adrenaline so intense his heart begins to beat wildly against his chest. He almost feels like he's the one on stage.

Your eyes find him, elegant in the way they slowly move to click with his, and he swears that he can feel his heartbeat echo throughout the entirety of his warming body. The eye contact is hot-blooded making his finger tips itch to touch you, he feels like a perv for it but with the way you stare just as diligently back at him, eyes wandering his frame unabashedly, he wonders if you're feeling it too. 

Your group plays a few more songs, all of which he listens to intently like if he focuses on the words that make up the lyrics hard enough he might learn a little bit more about you. You glance back at him more times than he can count as you finish up and he eats up every amount of attention you grant him like he’s starving for it. Already down bad and the two of you hadn’t even spoken to each other yet. 

The crowd settles into dampened conversations as you and your bandmates gather your things and make your way off the stage, no longer are they yelling and dancing, some fall into seats worn out from overworking their bodies to dance for longer than they should and some make their way out of the establishment ready to hit the sheets after a fun night out- Eddie can’t blame them, most days he’d be in bed by around this time. Eddie finds his seat with the others after lingering for a while. He sips nonchalantly on something Gareth had grabbed for him, making sure to keep an eye out for you- he hopes pathetically that you hadn't left yet. 

When he catches a glimpse of you again it’s twenty-five minutes later and he’s made it to his second beer, nursing it slowly despite its not at all that pleasing taste. His chocolate brown eyes widen, you’re closer, the stage had set the two of you further than he would have hoped and now he’s really getting a good look at you. The metalhead stands abruptly, prompting the others to raise their brows at him in question, he pushes his way through the small crowd blocking him from you like a man on a mission. As he gets closer he can’t help but notice that you're even prettier up close, practically glowing from the rush that comes from performing. Your eyes catch him for the umpteenth time that night, a shiver works its way up his body and a knowing smirk forms itself onto your lips, Eddie thinks he might melt.

Finally, he finds himself in front of you, chest heaving like he's just run a marathon just from being in your presence. His mouth opens and closes while he tries to think of something to say; your brow arches like you’re inpatient but the smirk still etched on your face says that you're teasing.

“Hey.” He mentally scolds himself.

You giggle- It sounds like sunshine Eddie thinks- and your fingers further fray the edges of your torn black shorts, “Hi.”

His chest expands as he takes a deep breath and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes dart at the movement, “You played good- or uh all of you played good I mean but yeah you were-,” He takes in just one more heavy breath to properly gain his composure, “you were pretty metal.”

You bat your lashes like you're trying to kill him. You bring your arm up to let your hand rest against his leather bound bicep, moving higher to pick at the fabric of his vest instead of your shorts. Eddie stops breathing for a second like it might stop you from withdrawing. 

“Pretty metal, huh? You think so? That's high praise coming from you, handsome.” You mean it too. It’s not as if you hadn’t had people flirt with you after a show before but it was never anyone like him. He’s pretty, unreasonably so and you’re a little embarrassed at how much you’ve been struggling to keep your eyes off of him. The looks he had been giving you throughout the time he’d been here, while mildly lust filled, had been kind and full of pure admiration of not only your beauty but your talent; a stranger has never made you feel so seen before. You pull him a little closer by the lapels of his jean vest like he might disappear if you let him go and take pleasure in the way his puppy dog eyes broaden, pupils dilating. 

He rubs at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket to hide the oncoming blush rising from your compliment and boldness while nodding. He’s quick to place a dazzling grin on his face in an attempt to hide his nervousness- he's never been this nervous with a girl before. Taking another half step toward you- you draw him in like a magnet- he leans forward just enough for you to have to look up at him. Now it’s your turn for your pupils to dilate. “Handsome? Sweetheart, you flatter me.” One of his hands, clad in rings and callouses, lands on his chest resting over his heart. You laugh, eyes rolling playfully.

The hand you had rested against his shoulder moves to his waist squeezing him light-heartedly like you’d known him forever- he loves it more than he’d like to admit. “Well, handsome,” He snorts, “What else am I supposed to call you? You haven’t told me your name yet.” Eddie’s smile falls a bit at the realization he's not sure how he could have forgotten.

“Eddie Munson at your service, my lady,” He bows dramatically, almost hitting someone on his way back up but the way you snicker at his antics makes it worth it, “and what might your name be?”

Instead of answering you grab one of the pens lingering in a cup at the bar counter and not so gently pull one of his arms to you, his body pressing against yours for a sweet second. You pull his sleeve up just enough for you to start writing the digits of your phone number against the paleness of his skin.

“Call me later and I might just tell you.”

[tmrwsuns]

(𐙚⋆.˚) click!

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [byun euijoo x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 1k w. curse words! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

euijoo never believed in love at first sight.

he remembered all those times when his mom would tell him and his older sister stories; how the girl fawned and dreamed about the day when her eyes would find someone in the crowd and everything would just click.

he, of course, thought it was stupid.

euijoo was a firm believer and defender of the fact that love had to be grown and worked on to be real. not in the sense of having to earn it in any way, but the idea of falling for someone slowly as timed passed always made more sense to him.

the yearly spring festival had arrived at his college, and he and his friends had signed up to perform one of their songs for the talent show that had been incredibly hyped up by every single staff and celebration committee member since the very beginning of the festival preparations.

that was when euijoo had first seen you.

your hair was carefully styled as you walked through campus, handing out flyers for the spring activities with a huge smile adorning your beautiful lips. the moment he saw you, his world stopped. his words got caught in his throat as his eyes widened adorably, cheeks growing red as alarms blared through his brain.

he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he was sure that if it did exist, this was as close as he’d ever get to it.

the second time he saw you, he had worked hard in convincing himself and his friends that the initial stunt you had caused in him was nothing but being caught off guard. and even so, he still couldn’t get you out of his head. your pretty smile, soft looking hair and big eyes were perfectly tattooed in his brain forever.

still, the image didn’t even come close to what it was to see you again.

this time, he heard your voice. it was sweet and smooth, almost making him sense the taste of honey on his tongue. you were so nice, too; welcoming them so cheerfully and expressing your utmost interest when they signed up their names on the talent show list. 

“...yuma, nicholas, euijoo. okay, thank you guys, i can’t wait to see you play!”

the sound of his name slipping past your lips was something he could have never been prepared for, clouding his judgement and impeding him from asking your own name.

even with his new found infatuation, the boy could not catch a break.

not only was he mothering all his friends as per usual, but he was also looking for you in every corner of the world, trying to get a glimpse that he didn’t get until almost a whole two months later. 

he wished it had been earlier, when he could actually try and gather the courage to speak to you, even just catch your name. but of course it had to be when he was up on stage, in the middle of a song and dangerously near his part.

differently than ever before, your hair was messy as you almost ran towards the area where the show was being held up. your chest heaved with heavy breaths and the bag on your shoulder was about to fall off, but then your eyes found his and your body went stiff.

much like the first time, euijoo’s world stopped spinning entirely. there was something different about that instance. maybe it was the change from your perfect appearance, or the way you had looked directly into his eyes once you got there.

he really, really, wanted to believe that it was intentional.

but hope was always dangerous, and his took it’s vengeance when he missed his cue to sing. it was only a fraction of a second until nicholas bumped his shoulder and he stuttered out the lyrics, but it was enough to get a smile out of you.

oh, that had to be the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

he really tried to keep his composure for the rest of the song, but it was increasingly high as your attention never faltered from his figure, making him wonder if he wanted the moment to continue forever or the earth to swallow him whole.

the song came to an end faster than he would’ve wanted and at the same time not fast enough. he was relishing on your attention, but his body ached to go find you and be able to see you more up close.

the brown haired boy rushed off the stage once their turn was over, trying to find you again in the sea of people. he didn’t really know what he was doing, nor what he wanted to say once you were in front of him, but it didn’t really matter.

all that mattered was to find you.

even after all those dramatics, he almost turned right back around when his eyes found yours. it was like you were waiting for him, judging by the way your lips quirked up and your attention was once again focused solely on him.

“hi,” he said, almost breathlessly as he got to stand in front of you in the sea of college students.

“hi,” you mirrored, an amused smile on your lips as you watched him.

he was tall, much taller than you, but he still felt so small under your gaze, like you had completely disarmed him into nothing but a blushy mess.

“i’m euijoo,” he introduced himself, his hand going to shake yours.

who the fuck shook hands in this day and age? “i know,” you giggled and shook his hand, and he thought he really was going to explode at the sound. “yn.”

yn.

that had to be the most beautiful thing he has heard in his life.

he was entranced, far too mesmerized by you to even realize when the words slipped from his lips. “would you like to come with me to the ferris wheel?”

he expected rejection, some type of mockery even. instead, he was met with an enthusiastic nod. “i was gonna ask you the same thing.”

as euijoo looked at your face while you told him a story at the very top of the ferris wheel, he doubted his beliefs in love at first sight again.

ultimately, he came to the conclusion that he was right all along. 

he was infatuated since the moment he saw you, but there was no thought more exciting to him than to learn about you and all that you were, falling further in love with every piece as your time together went on.

and god, he really, really, wished he would be given the chance

𐙚 blue's corner ;; hi !! i haven't posted a fic in a long ass time AND i've never posted any juju content which is crazy considering he is my bias..... but ANYWAYS love my husband 𐙚 taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng @hyukabean @lovelyjuju 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

© tmrwsuns, 2025

[kazuhahalol]

— rendezvous 18.6y | five hargreeves x f!reader

— A space rendezvous is an orbital maneuver during which two spacecraft, one of which is often a space station, arrive at the same orbit and approach to a very close distance.

Five discovers that you’re his soulmate. The only problem is that he’s also discovered you only exist in another timeline.

TW: angst, death

masterlist

Five Hargreeves had no patience for this. The CIA wasn’t his ideal workplace. But it had its perks: they were more than willing to let him do things his way as long as they got results. And now, Derek, the shorter, perpetually frazzled assistant who had an unhealthy admiration for Five; was standing in front of him with a stack of paperwork, clearly expecting Five to care.

“Five, seriously, we’ve gotta fix this,” Derek whined, shifting on his feet nervously. His usually neat appearance was ruffled, hair slightly askew as his hands fidgeted with the papers, holding them a little too tightly. He looked like he was about to break into a nervous sweat.

Five, who stood at least six inches taller than Derek, rolled his eyes as he took in the sight of his assistant’s increasingly flustered demeanor. “What, you’re still worried about the training schedule?” he drawled. “Derek, the last time I checked, we weren’t in preschool.”

Derek was nothing if not persistent, though. “It’s not just the schedule! It’s the agents, Five. Their performance has been awful. If you don’t step in, they’re gonna—”

“—Be useless?” Five finished for him with an almost bored expression, leaning back in his chair as he kicked his feet up on the desk. “Let me guess. You want me to play ‘team leader’ and ‘mentor’ now. That it?”

Derek’s face flushed at the implication but he refused to back down. “I’m just saying, you’ve got the experience, okay? You know what you’re doing. You’re the only one who can actually fix this.”

Five stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The truth was, Five didn’t care about their internal CIA issues, least of all some rookie agents who couldn’t handle basic tasks. But Derek had this way about him—this desperate, wide-eyed expression that made it hard for Five to say no. He didn’t like the kid, not really, but Derek was one of the few who actually did his job without expecting recognition.

“Fine,” Five said after a long, drawn-out pause, making Derek’s face light up in relief. “I’ll look into it. But don’t expect me to hold their hands and sing Kumbaya.”

Derek smiled his usual shit-eating smile, almost too eagerly. “Thanks, Five. I knew you’d come through.”

Five let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

With that, he turned and headed for the exit, his steps firm and confident. Derek stood there for a moment, watching him go with that same smirk. Five didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t want to or he’d get mad.

Five was already sick of the day, annoyed by Derek’s incessant requests. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt like doing anything for the CIA beyond getting through the job. At this point, the only thing keeping him sane was the hope that he could at least catch a break. But the day was far from over.

He blinked and suddenly, he was somewhere else entirely.

Five stumbled a bit, his equilibrium off as he stood in an empty subway station, tiles cracked beneath his boots and flickering lights hanging above. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, or even what had happened. His body still felt strange, sick, almost. But the biggest question on his mind was where the hell was he?

“What the hell…?” Five muttered to himself, scanning the abandoned station. The walls were stained and peeling, the space echoing in a way that felt off, but not immediately dangerous. There was a stain on the floor in the shape of Australia.

He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind raced. Last night, he remembered taking shots with the Umbrellas, heading home, and hitting the sack. How could that have brought his powers back. Did coming in indirect contact with the marigold in the jar bring back his powers? That had to be it. The marigold was messing with his system, likely triggering his powers back into existence.

Well, Five didn’t know Ben spiked the drinks, so let’s give him a break.

Five spent the next several hours of his life trying to get out of this terrible subway. He was hopping on and off trains, going to different timelines, just trying to get back home.

On his umpteenth attempt, he lazily stepped off the platform. No sign of the stain shaped like Australia. Great.

Five grunted in frustration, but as he took another step forward, he felt a pull. Well, more like a yank. It wasn’t physical, but it was real. Like an invisible thread, guiding him forward. He froze, staring at the faintest red string flickering in his vision. It was so faint, so subtle, but it was there.

“What the hell…” Five said again, now fully on edge.

His thoughts scrambled. This had to be a mistake. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and the marigold surely wasn’t the cause of… whatever this was.

Without much more to think, Five started walking toward the string, curious. His instincts told him to follow it. The string led him down another dark and dirty corridor. He could hear the soft hum of something distant, a vibration that made him tense, but he didn’t stop. Not yet. However, the string continued down the dark hall of the subway tracks, and he was not about to step foot on them. But he knew he had to get out of here someway

“Guess I’m not getting out of here without figuring this out,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Just then, the same subway train pulled up, the voice speaking to him in a backward language he couldn’t understand. Five was exhausted and not feeling any less nauseous. Still, he couldn’t ignore the pull. The red string kept pulling, yanking itself towards its other host.

With an exhale, Five stepped onto the train, trying to ignore the odd sensation that coursed through him. It was a strange feeling, like stepping into something he couldn’t quite understand.

The train doors closed behind him with a clank, and Five was alone. He didn’t know where the train was taking him. But he figured that, with his powers back, the only way out of this situation was to see it through.

ᡣ𐭩

The train sped down endless tunnels, skipping across different realities. Five watched, his brow furrowed, as the landscape shifted around him, each stop revealing new worlds, new timelines, each one more strange and disconnected than the last. He didn’t know how or why it was happening, but he was helpless to stop it.

There were people. Familiar faces. Others he couldn’t quite place. Moments, too. Time itself felt warped, stretched beyond recognition. He saw places he recognized, but twisted and wrong. Things shifted constantly, and Five couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of each reality’s imperfections.

The further the train went, the more frantic his thoughts became. He couldn’t keep hopping through these timelines forever. The red string tugged at him, guiding him forward. He needed to get back to his timeline. He needed to find his family.

But then, everything seemed to change. The train slowed, and before him, another station appeared. A glimpse of a new world, unfamiliar and yet somehow comforting. The red string kept yanking. He stepped out the train, looking for any sign of the Australia-shaped stain.

Nowhere to be seen.

He traverses the corridor until he reaches the stairs, climbing them until he’s met with the blinding sun. He navigates his way through the city, following wherever this red string is taking him. The buzz and sound of the city decreases as he reaches the more rural side. A small town, clean and quiet. Single family homes accompanied with apartments and townhouses. He stops at a single floor family home, staring straight at what his string was connected to.

You.

You were standing there, casually tying a ribbon around a patch of dahlias, the vibrant red flowers bright even in the dim light. You moved with a fluidity that made it impossible for Five to tear his eyes away.

The red string was there again, flickering, now more vivid than ever. It wound its way toward you, tugging with a force Five could no longer ignore.

“Dahlia’s, huh?” Five muttered to himself, barely above a whisper.

You looked up, sensing his presence. A soft, knowing smile appeared on your lips as you locked eyes with him. There was a sense of familiarity that struck him deep, like an anchor in the chaos that had followed him through the timelines.

The red string.

He was connected to you.

Five stood there, frozen in the soft light of the fading day, watching you work. The flickering red string still hummed in his vision, its pull relentless and undeniable. He couldn’t explain it, he had no idea what this was or how it worked, but there was something about you that felt…right. And as much as he hated to admit it, this quiet town felt oddly like home. It wasn’t like the chaos and destruction of his own reality, where nothing was ever really stable. Here, he could almost taste a sense of peace.

You were still working in the garden, tying a ribbon around a patch of dahlias, your movements graceful and easy. Five found himself staring for a little too long, caught in some quiet reverie, before he shook his head, snapping back to reality.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward you, his tone a little more dry than he intended. “You’re really into flowers, huh?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a warm smile, completely unfazed by his presence or the bluntness in his voice. You seemed to radiate calm, something Five had forgotten even existed.

“They’re my favorite,” you answered, your voice soft but strong. “They make everything a little brighter, you know?”

Five’s lips quirked at the edges, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, well, they certainly make your yard look like something out of a Pinterest board.”

You raised an eyebrow, the smile still there, though your eyes glinted with amusement. “You’ve been on Pinterest?” She asks, as if she believed he didn’t look like the type to.

“Who hasn’t?” He shrugged, but the sarcasm in his voice was gone, replaced by something a little less harsh. Something like…gratitude? Maybe.

You studied him for a moment, looking at his appearance which seemed a bit disheveled and exhausted, then nodded toward the house. “You need a place to stay, don’t you?”

Five didn’t hesitate. He had no reason to stay, no reason to linger. But something about this place, about you, made the idea of leaving feel foolish.

“I’m…lost,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual, though his tone remained steady. “So, yeah, a place to crash would be great.”

Your smile softened, and without a word, you motioned toward the house. “Well, you’re welcome to stay. I’ve got a spare room. It’s not much, but it’s quiet. And I could use the company.”

Five didn’t need any more encouragement. The string pulling him toward you only got stronger, and against his better judgment, he followed you inside. He didn’t say anything as you led him through the house, a small but cozy space that exuded a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages.

Days turned into weeks. The red string never wavered, but Five found himself growing comfortable in a way he hadn’t in years. He helped with small things around the house, things you hadn’t even known you needed help with. Fixing a leaky faucet. Setting up a new light fixture. Cooking dinner when you were too tired to bother. He did it all, all the while keeping his sarcastic and somewhat distant nature intact, even though, deep down, he knew he was slowly slipping. The edges of his carefully constructed walls were crumbling, piece by piece.

“You know,” you said one night as you both sat on the porch, watching the stars, “you’ve been here for a while now. I never really asked you… What exactly are you running from?”

Five didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the weight of your question pressing down on him more than he’d like to admit. “Nothing,” he replied, his voice just a little too sharp. “Just needed a break.”

You tilted your head, sensing the lie in his words, but you didn’t push. You never did. You just let him be. And somehow, that was exactly what he needed.

ᡣ𐭩

Time passed in a blur of laughter, fleeting moments, and growing affection. Five found himself laughing with you. Something he hadn’t done in years. And, despite his best efforts to resist, he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was falling for you. Hard.

One evening, as you were both standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner, he turned to you, his gaze softer than usual.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quiet. “For letting me stay. For…not asking too many questions.”

You smiled, that same quiet strength in your eyes. “I could say the same to you. You’ve made my life a lot easier, Five.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but then he shook his head, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his voice.

“Yeah, well, I’m good at that.” He hesitated for a second, then added, “I never thought I’d find peace like this. Not in…well, not in any universe.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, your touch gentle but firm. “It’s not about the universe, Five. It’s about where you are… and who you’re with.”

That one simple sentence hit him harder than anything else. He swallowed hard, looking away from you.

The truth was, Five knew something you didn’t. Something that kept him awake at night, that gnawed at him whenever he looked at you and saw the way your smile made everything feel like it would be okay.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t his timeline. And by staying, he was risking it all. Every time he thought about the red string, the connection, the weight of it all, he knew he had to leave. He had to go back.

But every time he thought about leaving you, it felt like his chest might crack open.

One night, after you’d both declared your love for each other, slowly, hesitantly, like both of you were afraid of what might happen if you fully admitted it—Five knew that it was time.

“I can’t stay,” he said one evening, his voice tight as he stood in the doorway.

You looked up from where you sat on the couch, your expression confused. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

Five stepped toward you, his heart breaking with every step. “This isn’t my timeline. And I’m not supposed to be here.”

Five’s eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow before he hardened his gaze, looking away as if the truth itself would tear him apart.

“I have to go back,” he said, his voice tight, colder than usual, but there was something in the way he said it that betrayed the lie. “I have to go back to my family.”

You stood there for a moment, completely still, trying to process his words. The weight of his departure settled over you, heavy and suffocating. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words seemed to get caught in your throat.

“Five… what do you mean? Why now?” You stepped forward, but he was already backing away, every movement deliberate as if he was trying to distance himself from you. “You’ve made a life here. With me.”

“I know,” he said quickly, voice tinged with regret. “I know. But it’s something I have to do. I can’t stay.”

You shook your head, a feeling of helplessness creeping into your chest. “Please… don’t go.”

The desperation in your voice made him hesitate, just for a moment, but he masked it with a quick, harsh breath. “I have no choice,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

But you did understand. You understood more than he thought. It wasn’t just that he had to leave—it was that he wasn’t telling you the truth. You could feel it. The way he ached inside, how this wasn’t just about family or whatever excuse he was feeding you. It was something more, something bigger, but you couldn’t quite reach it.

“Five, please don’t do this,” you whispered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. You reached for his hand, the warmth of your palm pressing against his cool, detached skin. “You don’t have to go. Not yet. I…” Your words faltered, the lump in your throat rising. “I need you here.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze softened, though the distance between you remained. “I need to do this. For everyone. For the world.”

You frowned, unable to make sense of his words. “What do you mean?”

But before you could get an answer, he stepped back, and his lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to leave. You’ll be alright.”

And with that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in the living room, heart heavy with confusion and sorrow.

Five never returned. After many failed attempts, he made his way back into his original timeline, a place where everything felt like it was falling apart, where the stakes were higher than he could ever explain. He had no time to dwell on what he was leaving behind, not when the fate of everything was at risk.

In his original timeline, the Umbrellas, his family, his true family, were preparing for their final mission. They had to make their sacrifice to correct the world’s path, to fix the timeline, to undo everything they had gone wrong.

And as he stood with them, ready to take his place in the grand scheme of things, Five knew there was no turning back. This was the end, and it had to be done. They all had to give up their lives, their existence, for the greater good. The world depended on it.

With one final look at his house around him, at the family he had loved more than anything, Five made his sacrifice. In that moment, the Umbrella Academy joined together one last time and ceased to exist, so did Five. Five was happy that he found love before he would pass on, even if she wouldn’t remember him. His very being dissolved, erasing him from the timeline, from everything.

ᡣ𐭩

Back in your timeline, you lived on. You continued with your life, growing older, feeling the passage of time like a slow, inevitable current. The world continued, with all its ups and downs, its joys and heartbreaks. But there was something missing, something you couldn’t place, a hole in your heart that never quite healed.

Years passed, and you found yourself in your garden again, standing among the flowers. The dahlias bloomed brightly, their red petals catching the sunlight. The tulips swayed gently in the breeze, a soft pink hue against the red. The flowers were a beautiful sight, one that had always brought you peace.

You smiled softly, a sense of warmth flooding through you, but there was an odd ache in your chest, a lingering sense of something long forgotten. As the years went by, you never stopped tending to your garden, not remembering the man that loved you more than he could ever love himself.

He ceased to exist, after all.

One day, you passed away quietly in your sleep, the world around you unchanged. The winter had just past and spring had sprung. The sun was shining, the children were playing, and in the brown soil of your yard sprouted a beautiful red dahlia and a single marigold, which you hadn’t planted before, only planting tulips and dahlias.

The dahlia and marigold sit in the spring sun in silence, a tiny red string connecting the two by their petals.

[bleedingoptimism]

As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!” 

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie’ brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is.  Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?” 

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles. 

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!” 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes. 

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever. 

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in. 

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi” 

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused, 

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it” 

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him, 

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

[kxsagi]

Hey I wanted to make a request for bllk boys! Could you do one where the s/o does the "theres goes my baby" trend? Like from that MV of usher's " there goes my baby" where he slides on the floor to hug the girls waist.

The bllk boys have been out of the country for a match for like almost a month and when they come home their s/o's playing this song on some speaker and then slides on the floor to hug their waist while singing the lyrics. I'd like if you can make this with Rin, Isagi and Sae!

Sorry for the weird ahh request💔 Thank you if you read this!

“𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐲𝐲”

a/n: WEIRD AHH REQUEST? NAH THIS IS A FUNNY AHH REQUEST I LOVE IT

ALSO I FORGOT NESS DID THIS TREND IN THE MANGA

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

after a long month away, isagi’s practically sprinting through the door, his excitement to see you bubbling over. he’s been counting the days, and now that he’s finally home, nothing can stop him. 

but as soon as he hears the familiar beat of “there goes my baby” playing from the speaker, he freezes. he looks at you with that bright, wide-eyed expression like he’s in awe of how perfect the timing is. 

"wait... no way." isagi, with his usual determined face, squints, and without hesitation, he takes a few running steps before awkwardly sliding across the floor like he's trying to glide on ice. 

he totally trips halfway through and does a weird, flailing shuffle that looks like he's about to faceplant into the couch, but nope, he recovers at the last second and miraculously lands right in front of you, one arm slipping around your waist while he sings with way too much enthusiasm: "there goes my baby ~ ooh girl, look at you ~" 

you can’t help but laugh at how goofy he looks, but he’s too proud of himself to care. the confidence is unmatched even though he nearly wiped out. 

he looks at you expectantly, waiting for your approval like a puppy, “did you like it? i, uh, nailed it, right?”

itoshi rin

rin might be the last person you’d expect to fall for this kind of dramatic moment, but after nearly a month of being away, he’s in a romantic mood (it’s the alcohol). 

as soon as he steps in and hears the opening of "there goes my baby," he just knows. this is his moment to be the smooth, suave guy he thinks he is in the moment. 

he's already calculated his steps, eyeing the smoothness of the floor. he takes a few seconds, then suddenly just slides into the living room with effortless grace, like he’s a pro dancer. 

the first few seconds are perfect: he slides in with no problems and lands in front of you with a flourish. rin, ever the show-off, effortlessly puts his arm around your waist and gazes at you like he’s about to declare his love in some grand movie scene. 

but then… he slips. like, full-on accidentally trips over his own feet and almost crashes into the coffee table. you’re already laughing, but he recovers, smooths his shirt down, and leans in, singing the lyrics like nothing happened. "there goes my baby…"

you can't stop laughing now, but rin just looks at you, utterly unbothered, like he's the coolest guy alive, "this was totally on purpose, by the way."

itoshi sae

after a month of being away, sae walks in like he’s straight out of a movie. he’s calm, collected, and effortlessly cool as always, but this time? there’s a rose tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

the second he hears "there goes my baby" playing from the speaker, he doesn’t even hesitate. sae doesn’t need to think twice, he knows what to do. this is his moment. 

he doesn’t stumble, he doesn’t mess up. with a small smirk, he steps back for a second, eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s preparing for a perfect performance. 

and then… he slides. it’s smooth. it’s controlled. his movements are so graceful that it’s like he was born to do this. the rose in his mouth barely moves as he glides across the floor without a single hitch. 

he lands in front of you like it was all pre-planned. still holding the rose between his teeth, he places one hand at your waist and gently pulls you in, and as in perfect timing, usher sings, “there goes my baby ~” 

it’s not cheesy. it’s not awkward. it’s impossibly smooth. you’re too stunned to do anything but laugh, but sae just gives you that signature cool look as if he’s just done something totally normal. 

“well?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eye as he leans in closer, the rose still in his mouth like a perfect, romantic gesture. "was that dramatic enough for you?"

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[studioeisa]

all seok wants for christmas 🎄 seokmin x reader.

your fellow glee club member, seokmin, has been trying to confess to you for the better half of the past three years. key word: trying. maybe a christmas duet is in order to get the message across.

🎄 includes: alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: glee club. seokmin has a crush, confessions, fluff. word count: 1.4k 🎄 @tusswrites, surprise! it's me! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ hope you enjoy this little drabble, which i wrote while looping the glee version of all i want for christmas is you. love you lots and merry, merry christmas, my light! 🎄 this was written as part of cam&em studios' a very seventeen christmas secret santa event.

Seokmin has tried to confess to you seventeen and a half times.

He's done nearly everything in his power to get the message across. A letter in your locker? Check. An orchestrated, one-on-one walk in the rain? Check. Hell, he even begged Joshua to lock you two in the club room that one time.

It seems Seokmin's efforts are all futile— because you remain blissfully unaware of the fact he's kind of in love with you.

"No plans of giving up yet, Seok?"

The hushed question drags Seokmin out of his reverie. Mingyu at least had the decency to whisper the query, but Seokmin still instinctively looks towards you to check if you might have overheard. You look none the wiser as you engage in a conversation with Wonwoo.

Seokmin's grumbled response of "shut up" only makes Mingyu snicker.

"Year three of being down baaad," the taller man teases, sing-songing the words to vex Seokmin just a little more. It works; Seokmin elbows his friend in the side.

"I'll figure it out," Seokmin huffs, even though that's something he's said at least once a month since he first realized how he feels for you.

The glee club meeting of the day kicks off with Seungkwan offering reminders and pointers for the upcoming national show choir competition. Try as he might, Seokmin can't really bring himself to listen.

His focus is entirely on you.

From where he's seated, he can onlysee the side of your face, and he truly tries not to make his staring obvious. His friends have all teased him relentlessly for wearing his heart on his sleeve yet failing to offer that very heart to you when it matters.

Honestly? Seokmin feels like he's running out of ways to confess.

He's so caught up in his moping that he doesn't immediately register Seungkwan addressing him. Seokmin only snaps to attention when Mingyu knocks his knee.

"Hm?" Seokmin looks to Seungkwan. "Sorry, what was that?"

There's a ripple of laughter throughout the room. In the corner of his eye, Seokmin can see you biting back a smile. It makes the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment.

"I said," Seungkwan repeats exasperatedly. "I was hoping you could perform a Christmas song for the next club meeting."

Seokmin blinks once, then twice. Right. He was slotted to perform next week. "A Christmas song," he echoes, his mind still trying to sort through its thoughts of you. "Gotcha."

He's convinced that that's all there will be to it until Seungkwan goes on, "It could even be a duet, if that makes things easier for you."

Seokmin is just a second too late to the punch line, because you're already raising your hand. You look just the appropriate amount of excited as you call out, "I'd love to do a duet with Seok, if he'll have me."

He nearly chokes on air then and there.

If he'll have you? How can you say something like that and expect him to not want to pass out?

Mingyu is visibly fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Seungkwan has that annoying, knowing look on his face. None of it matters to Seokmin, though, because in that very moment, he realizes that maybe he has one more confession up his sleeve.

It's a mammoth task, keeping his expression under control as he meets your gaze. You're sporting that smile he loves so much— the one that steals the air from his lungs.

That's why Seokmin's tone is just a little bit breathless as he says, "Of course."

He's saying yes to the duet, sure.

But he's also saying yes to the treacherous prospect of having you and wanting you.

"Baby, It's Cold Outside is off the table."

Seokmin isn't at all surprise with your opening statement. It draws an affectionate laugh from him, even, because having known you for so long gives him some sense of what you like and what you don't.

The two of you decided to meet up outside of school hours to discuss and practice your impending performance. It was far from the first time that you were out together, though it was the first time the two of you were slotted to sing together.

"I can't believe we haven't done a duet yet," you say amusedly as you scroll through your Spotify playlist for prospects.

"It's criminal, isn't it?" Seokmin muses with a coolness that he could almost applaud himself for. He's acting like his usual self on the outside, but his mind is running a mile an hour as he imagines how to execute this.

One chance. He has one chance to get this right.

"We can be Christina Aguilera and Brian McKnight," he suggests delicately. "A little Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas moment."

You let out a thoughtful hum. "I don't think I can hit Aguilera's notes," you admit with a giggle.

Seokmin chuckles along. He's not miffed by your contradiction. This is all part of his master plan.

"Is Happy Christmas, War Is Over too serious?" you ask.

"A little too solemn for my taste."

"Fair."

The two of you exchange suggestions back and forth for the next half hour until Seokmin decides it's finally time to pull out the big guns. "How about we stick to a classic?" he prompts, his tone innocent as ever.

You roll your shoulders as you glance at him inquisitively.

Seokmin clears his throat, at least a dozen platitudes running through his mind. Now or never. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Just do it.

"Mariah Carey," he says. "All I Want For Christmas Is You?"

There's a terribly long moment where Seokmin thinks you're going to deny him. He doesn't really have a backup for this, doesn't have a Plan B. His breath stills in his chest as he waits for your response of—

"Hey, I think we can pull that one off."

Seokmin just barely holds himself back from pumping his fist in the air.

It's a miracle that Seokmin makes it to the day of your performance. His leg is bouncing up and down. His palms are sweating like crazy. He's been through Sectionals and Regionals, but he hadn't been this nervous in any of those contests.

Does it help that the two of you decided to color coordinate clothes? Seokmin isn't sure. The pair of you look like a couple now, which only seems to do more harm than good on his poor, poor heart.

At this point, all he can do is straighten out his checkered button down and hope he doesn't keel over mid-song.

"Ready?" you ask, your voice betraying no hint of your own nerves.

Seokmin shoots you a tight-lipped smile. "As I'll ever be," he lies.

Seungkwan works on queueing up the minus one. Mingyu not-so discreetly sets up his phone to film the whole thing. And Seokmin?

He takes one look at your face and decides that he may as well go out swinging.

The uptempo beats of the festive track ring through the room. Reactions to the choice are mixed. Some groan. Some cheer. Seokmin, once again, could care less what any of them feel or think. He has a plan, and he will see it through.

Your honeyed, dulcet tone effectively shuts up anyone who might've doubted the two of you.

I don't want a lot for Christmas, you croon. There is just one thing I need.

Seokmin is surprised that he manages to not melt on the spot. His fingers tighten a bit around his Bluetooth microphone, but he holds it together enough to join you.

I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace, he sings. Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day.

As the track goes on, some of Seokmin's nerves ease. Being around you has always been easy; his little plan doesn't change that. The two of you execute the duet with effortless chemistry, trading saccharine verses and middling dance steps like the two of you have been singing together for ages.

It exhilarates Seokmin, gives him just enough courage for what he's about to do.

The song is winding to a close. You're in a club room full of some of your closest friends, all of whom are watching you two like hawks. But with the way you're looking up at Seokmin, the way you're singing with him, to him, you might as well be the only two people in the whole world.

Make my wish come true, you belt out.

Oh, baby. Seokmin's heart is in his throat. He pushes on.

All I want for Christmas is—

He stutters. You blink up at him. Confused, concerned.

He says the word instead of singing it— the single, intentional choice carrying the weight of everything he has tried and failed to tell you so far.

"You."