#i love when a piece of media has two normal boy best friends in it but the piece of media keeps making them gay on accident

[ge]

the novel stating tang bo created an entirely new technique all for the specific purpose of protecting chung myung.....and im just supposed to think they never made out w each other passionately under the moonlight together..? at least once?

[flwrstqr]

𓈃 ★ PRINCESS DIAIRIES | PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis you are a shy, awkward teenager living with your artist mother. your life is turned upside down when you discover you are the heir to the throne of genovia. at first, you're reluctant to accept your new identity. as you face challenges at school, with the media, and within yourself, you struggle to balance your normal life with your royal duties. sunghoon, who has secretly liked you for a long time, finds himself falling even more for you as he sees you grow into your new role. as you navigate your new life, you and sunghoon grow closer, sharing quiet moments and, most importantly, falling in love.

word count 6.8k+

meet the cast best friend's brother!sunghoon x quiet kid/princess!fem reader (feat haneul from kiss of life + other ocs)

genre high school au, royal au, angst, fluff, romance, best friend brother au, unpopular to popular, crack, princess diaries based

warnings swearing, kissing, small grammar errors, everyone being mean to yn at first, some annoying characters, mentions barfing, yn being played by a boy at one point, some second hand embarrassment scene 😓,

danielle's note 𖥔 so i just watched like princess diaries yesterday and i ended up falling in love with it so i wanted to write a long ass au for this. plus like i had to cook up a good plot so 😈 sorry if this is ass but anyways i hope u guys enjoy this (this fic is for my fav hoon stan ><)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀good luck babe by chappell roan, feather by sabrina carpenter, saturn by sza, i love you so by the walters, obsessed by olivia rodrigo, xo by enhypen, break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

YOU WAKE UP TO THE SOFT CHIMES OF YOUR ALARM, gradually getting louder until you reach over and silence it. You fumble for your glasses on the bedside table. Once they're on, the world comes into focus: your room adorned with vibrant art pieces that was made by your mother.

You stretch and get out of bed, your feet touching the cool floor. Your school uniform is laid out neatly on the chair by your desk: a skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer. You put on the uniform, the fabric feeling stiff but familiar. As you stand in front of the mirror, you run a brush quickly through your hair. Makeup isn’t part of your routine; you prefer to keep things simple.

Heading downstairs, you hear the familiar sounds of your mom humming along to music in her studio. You grab your backpack from the hook by the door and slip on your shoes. The house smells of fresh paint and coffee, a comforting mix you've grown up with.

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart! Also, don't be nervous during the speech!” your mom calls from her studio, not looking up from her canvas.

“Thanks, Mom. I will,” you reply softly, even though she can't see you.

Stepping outside, the morning air is cool and crisp. You take a deep breath, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, and start walking to school. You keep your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

YOU ARRIVE AT SCHOOL, spotting Haneul leaning against the bike racks, her face lighting up as she sees you. She's waving enthusiastically, and you can’t help but smile back. Haneul, like you, is considered one of the "losers," known for being a "nerd." But she’s your best friend, and that label doesn’t bother either of you much.

“Hey,” you greet her, adjusting your backpack.

“Morning! Ready for another thrilling day of high school?” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

You both laugh and start walking towards your first class. As usual, you pass the popular girls, Eunae and her two "minions", who are gossiping loudly by their lockers. Your eyes dart towards your crush, Siwoo, who’s with them. His blonde hair is always perfectly styled, falling just above his eyebrows in a way that frames his sharp, expressive eyes. Those eyes, a deep shade of brown, seem to hold a confident, almost teasing glint. His smile is captivating, often described as a blend of boyish charm and genuine warmth, making him instantly likable to many (such as you). Your heart sinks as you see him kissing Eunae. You roll your eyes, trying to forget it.

“Ugh, seriously?” Haneul mutters, noticing the scene as well. “She’s so fake.”

You nod in agreement, but your attention shifts as you catch sight of Sunghoon, Haneul’s older brother, standing nearby. His dark hair, slightly tousled, falls naturally around his face. His eyes, a striking shade of hazel, are often focused.

You give him a small wave. Sunghoon notices and waves back, his smile warm and genuine. The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Haneul says, tugging at your sleeve.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you reply, falling into step beside her as you make your way to class.

CLASS TIME BEGINS, and your heart races as you try to focus on the lesson. When Siwoo stands up to give his speech, you can't help but be mesmerized. His blonde hair is perfect, shining under the classroom lights, and his confidence radiates as he speaks. You know Siwoo isn’t the brightest student, more of an athlete than an academic, but that doesn’t matter to you. He’s cute, and that’s enough.

As he finishes his speech, Eunae and her two friends erupt into loud cheers, their high-pitched voices echoing in the room. You roll your eyes internally but feel a pang of nervousness as you realize your turn is coming up. Public speaking has always been your weak point.

When your name is called, you stand up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Your legs feel like jelly as you walk to the podium, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear Eunae giggling with her friends, and it only heightens your anxiety.

"Look who's next," Eunae whispers loudly to her friends, making sure you hear.

You take a deep breath and start your speech, but the words come out in a stutter. "S-so..."

You push up your glasses, hoping it will give you some confidence, but it only makes things worse. The giggles turn into outright laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your stomach churns, making you feel like you’re going to be sick.

"Oh my God, she can't even talk properly," Eunae says, loud enough for the whole class to hear. More laughter follows her comment.

In the far corner of the room, you notice Sunghoon watching. His eyes are calm, and there's a hint of concern in his expression You feel like you're about to barf and, in a panic, you rush out of the classroom. The laughter follows you, echoing in your ears.

Once outside, you lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Tears prick at your eyes as the embarrassment washes over you. You feel utterly defeated, wishing you could just disappear. You were always the invisible one, what should you expect?

AFTER SCHOOL, you walk home, the events of the day replaying in your mind. When you step inside, the familiar smell of your mom's cooking greets you. You head to the kitchen, where she’s stirring something on the stove.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says, looking up with a concerned expression. "I heard you barfed in class today. Are you okay?"

You sigh, dropping your backpack on the floor. "Yeah, it was just… really embarrassing."

Your mom walks over and gives you a comforting hug. "I'm sorry that happened. Kids can be really mean sometimes."

You nod, feeling a bit better with her support. "Thanks, Mom."

She pulls back and looks at you seriously. "There’s something I need to tell you. Your grandmother is coming over for tea next week."

You look at her, confused. "Grandmother? But we never talk to her."

"I know," your mom says, her tone softening. "This is the first time we’re going to meet her. She’s your father's mother. After your father passed away a few months ago, she reached out. She said she wanted to speak with you specifically."

You blink in surprise. "Me? Why me?"

"I don’t know," your mom admits. "But I think it’s important to hear her out. She might have something to share that’s meaningful to you."

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Okay. I’ll talk to her."

Your mom gives you a reassuring smile. "It’ll be fine." You nod, trying to push aside any other thoughts on your mind.

YOU WALK INTO THE CAR MOTOR PLACE, the familiar scent of oil and rubber filling the air. Your heart races as you see your Mustang in the garage, a little closer to the dream car you’ve been saving up for. It still needs a lot of work, but you’re determined to have it ready for your 17th birthday.

As you approach the car, you hear the final notes of a performance. Sunghoon finishes his set and the crowd disperses, girls whispering excitedly about how hot he is. But he pays them no mind. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his eyes lighting up with a genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, his voice smooth and warm. "Checking on the car?"

You nod, unable to help but smile back. "Yeah, it's coming along slowly but surely."

He glances at the Mustang, then back at you. "It's going to look amazing when it's done. You've been saving it up for a while,"

You blush at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Thanks, Sunghoon."

His smile widens, and he leans a bit closer. "If you need any help with the car, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

"Really? That would be amazing," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer.

Sunghoon's eyes twinkle "Anything for you," he says softly, before giving you one last smile.

YOU STAND AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE GRAND MANSION, your eyes wide with awe. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion are overwhelming. Fancy maids and butlers bustle around. You clutch your cheap, simple backpack, a gift from your mother three years ago, and adjust your school uniform nervously. Your hair is a bit messy, and your glasses keep slipping down your nose.

As you step inside, the grandeur of the place hits you like a tidal wave. The floors are polished to a gleaming shine, intricate chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, and every piece of furniture looks like it belongs in a museum. You can't help but feel out of place, a small figure in this space.

Just then, you hear the soft click of heels on the marble floor. You look up to see her, your grandmother, a woman you've never met before. She descends the grand staircase with an air of grace and authority, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. She's dressed in an elegant gown, a deep shade of blue that compliments her dignified demeanor. In contrast, you feel even more self-conscious about your plain school uniform.

"Hello, dear," she greets you with a refined smile. Her voice is smooth and cultured, a stark contrast to your own uncertain tone. You mumble a shy greeting in return, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, sit," she says, gesturing to a plush armchair near the grand fireplace. You sit down cautiously, feeling the softness of the cushion beneath you. A maid approaches and places a delicate china teacup in front of you, the steam rising in gentle curls.

Your grandmother takes a seat across from you. She reaches into a small velvet box and retrieves a necklace and charm, the gold catching the light in a mesmerizing way. "Here's a gift," she says, handing it to you, "has been passed down through our family for generations."

You take the necklace. The charm is intricate, a tiny masterpiece that speaks of history and legacy. You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. You play around with it nervously as your grandmother eyes you quietly.

As you sip your tea, you can't help but make a bit of noise, your lack of manners showing. Your grandmother eyes you critically but says nothing about your manners. Instead, she clears her throat, the sound resonating in the quiet room.

"I have some news for you," she announces, her tone serious and measured.

You stop stirring your tea and look up, pushing your glasses up your nose in a nervous habit. "What is it?" you ask, curious.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You are the Princess of Genovia."

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. You choke on your tea, coughing violently as you try to process her words. "What?" you exclaim.

She nods, her expression grave. "Your father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes you the next heir."

"No, no way," you stammer, shaking your head, "I'm just… an invisible me. There's no way I'm a princess."

Your grandmother's gaze softens slightly, "It's true, my dear. Your father never had the chance to tell you, but this is your birthright."

The weight of her words presses down on you, a crushing force that makes it hard to breathe. Your life, once simple and predictable, has been changed.

"No," you whisper, your voice trembling. "This can't be happening."

Your grandmother is about to explain further, her lips parting to speak, but the overwhelming reality hits you like a freight train. You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that echoes in the grand room. "I need to go," you say, your voice breaking.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and rush out of the mansion, your footsteps echoing in the vast hallway. you push the door open, the bright sunlight outside momentarily blinding you. You stumble down the steps.

You walk quickly, almost running, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the mansion as possible. How can this be real? How can you, an quiet girl with a simple life, be a princess? You are the Princess of Genovia. And your life will never be the same again.

THE NEXT DAY, the reality of the previous day’s still hangs heavily over you. You can hardly focus on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the shocking news. You try to go about your usual routine, but everything feels different, surreal.

As you sit at the kitchen table, pushing your breakfast around your plate, you hear a knock at the door. Your mother goes to answer it, and you strain to hear the conversation. Your heart skips a beat when you hear your grandmother’s voice.

“Hello, my dear,” she greets your mother politely. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” your mother replies, sounding a bit nervous.

They walk into the kitchen together, and your grandmother’s presence fills the small room. She’s dressed impeccably, her elegance stark against the worn, cozy surroundings of your home.

“Good morning,” she says to you with a gentle smile. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better today.”

You manage a nod, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You notice your mother looks anxious, avoiding your gaze.

“Please, have a seat,” your mother offers, gesturing to a chair. Your grandmother sits gracefully, folding her hands in her lap.

“Yesterday was overwhelming, I know,” your grandmother begins, her tone soft but firm. “But we need to talk more about this. There are important things you need to understand.”

You remain silent, feeling a mix of resentment and curiosity.

“There’s a royal ball in two months,” she continues. “It’s an important event where you’ll be formally introduced as the Princess of Genovia. It’s crucial for our country and for you.”

Your mother takes a deep breath, finally looking at you. “I know this is a lot to take in,” she says. “I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to have a normal life.”

You feel a surge of frustration. “You knew? All this time?” you ask, your voice shaking.

Your mother nods, her eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry, honey. I thought it was for the best.”

Your grandmother reaches out, placing a hand on yours. “I understand that this is a lot to accept. But you have a duty, a responsibility to your heritage. This is your birthright.”

You pull your hand back, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a normal girl. I don’t know anything about being a princess.”

Your grandmother’s expression softens. “You may feel that way now, but you have the potential to be a great leader. We will help you every step of the way. You won’t be alone in this.”

Your mother’s eyes plead with you. “Please, sweetheart. Give it a chance. We’ll support you in any way we can.”

You sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of their words pressing down on you. The idea of being a princess, attending a royal ball, and stepping into a completely different world feels terrifying. But there’s a small part of you that’s curious, that wonders what it would be like to be this new identity.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you say reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

A FEW DAYS LATER, the sun casts a warm glow over your grandmother’s mansion as you arrive. You clutch your simple backpack, feeling out of place yet again as you step into the grand foyer. Your grandmother greets you with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Today’s the day,” she says, leading you to a large room filled with mirrors and high-end beauty products. “I’ve arranged for the best stylists to give you a makeover. They’ll help you look the part of a princess.”

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As you take a seat, a team of stylists and beauticians file into the room, each one carrying various tools and products. They begin their work, chatting amiably as they discuss your transformation.

For nearly four hours, you sit patiently as they work their magic. Your hair is trimmed and styled into a sleek, elegant look that frames your face perfectly. Your eyebrows are shaped, making your eyes look bigger and more defined. They remove your glasses and fit you with contact lenses, giving you a clearer view of the world without the barrier of frames.

As they finish up, you catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at you. Your skin glows, your features are more defined, and you look… different. Beautiful, even.

Just then, your grandmother walks back into the room. She pauses mid-step, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in your transformation. You stand up and turn to face her, feeling a rush of nerves.

“Oh my,” she breathes, her voice filled with awe. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms, stepping closer to take a better look. “Your hair, your eyes, everything… You look like a true princess.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. The stylists beam with pride, knowing they’ve done an excellent job.

Your grandmother reaches out to gently touch your hair. “This is just the beginning, my dear.”

As you walk through the grand halls of the mansion, you feel different. Lighter. More confident. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a large, ornate mirror as you pass by, and for the first time, you see not just a girl, but a princess.

THE NEXT DAY, YOU SIT NERVOUSLY IN THE BACK OF THE LIMO, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. You’ve been riding in this luxurious vehicle for a few days now, but it still feels surreal. The thought of people judging you for your sudden change in appearance and status makes your stomach churn. Today, you’re picking up Haneul and Sunghoon.

As the limo pulls up in front of their house, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The driver opens the door, and Sunghoon steps inside. His jaw drops as he sees you, his eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N… you look…” He’s completely speechless, his gaze fixed on you.

Before he can finish his sentence, Haneul appears, her voice breaking the silence. “Sunghoon, get in already—” Her words trail off as she sees you, her eyes widening in surprise.

Sunghoon finally finds his voice. “You look amazing,” he says, blush creeping up his cheek.

Haneul, on the other hand, doesn’t share his enthusiasm. She crosses her arms, her expression turning sour. “So, what’s the deal? You get a makeover and now you’re one of those popular girls who’ll ditch us?”

Your heart sinks at her words. “Haneul, it’s not like that…”

“It sure seems like it,” she snaps, her voice filled with hurt. “You think you’re better than us now?”

Sunghoon, sensing the tension, tries to intervene. “Haneul, that’s not fair. Let’s hear her out.”

You feel a mix of frustration and sadness. “I haven’t changed on the inside. I’m still me. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

The limo moves closer to the school, and you feel the pressure mounting. “I can’t explain it all right now, but you need to trust me.”

As the limo approaches the school, you grab a hat from your bag and put it on, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention. You quickly get out of the car, pulling Haneul aside while Sunghoon steps out slowly, still in shock.

“Haneul, listen,” you whisper urgently, glancing around to make sure no one is overhearing. “I need to tell you something. Please, just hear me out.”

Haneul crosses her arms, still looking skeptical but nods for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice even further. “I’m a princess. The Princess of Genovia.”

“What?” Haneul whispers, her anger dissipating into surprise.

“It’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “I found out a few days ago. My grandmother told me. My father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes me the next heir.”

Haneul’s expression softens as she processes your words. “Really?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder. “You’re a real princess?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yes. And it’s been overwhelming. I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

Haneul’s face breaks into a smile, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Why didn’t you just say so? That’s amazing! I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

"I'm sorry, I couldn't tell anyone." I say, shrugging.

Haneul giggles. “So, does this mean we get to visit a castle?”

You laugh, “Maybe one day. But for now, I need you both to keep this a secret.”

Haneul nods “Absolutely. My lips are sealed.”

YOU SIT IN CLASS, your hat pulled low to avoid drawing attention. Your fingers tap nervously on your desk as you try to focus on your work. The day has already been overwhelming, and the last thing you want is more eyes on you. But as the class progresses, you hear a familiar, smug voice from across the room.

“Sir, Y/N is wearing a hat, and I think that’s against the school dress code,” Eunae says, a smirk playing on her lips.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the class turns to look at you. The teacher glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well, that is true,” he says, his tone regretful but firm. “Y/N, unfortunately, you have to take your hat off.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach up and slowly remove your hat, letting your hair cascade down your back. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable laughter or teasing. Instead, you hear a murmur of whispers filling the room.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re so pretty! Can we be friends?” one girl exclaims.

“Your hair is gorgeous!” another student adds, their tone filled with genuine admiration.

You look up, seeing the mean girls from your class suddenly smiling at you, their previous disdain replaced with a strange, almost predatory friendliness.

“I think it’s a wig,” someone whispers, a hint of skepticism in their voice.

Before the whispers can escalate, Haneul’s voice cuts through the noise. “I think her hair is gorgeous,” she says loudly, her tone firm and supportive. “But let’s get back to class. We have more important things to focus on.”

Her words have the desired effect, and the classroom falls silent. The teacher nods approvingly and returns to the lesson. You glance at Haneul, gratitude evident in your eyes. She gives you a reassuring smile, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

YOU'RE WALKING TO SCHOOL ON AC RISP MORNING. Sunghoon is beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform.

"So, YN," Sunghoon begins, his tone casual, but there's a hint of something more beneath it. "Do you have any plans for Saturday?"

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment, then looks at you with a mix of hope and excitement. "Well, my band is performing at this new place downtown. It's kind of a big deal for us, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

You stop walking, "Really? That sounds amazing! I'd love to come."

A grin spreads across Sunghoon's face, and he looks relieved. "Great! It starts at seven. I'll send you all the details later." As you start walking again, the conversation shifts back to lighter topic.

"You know," you say after a while, "I've always wanted to see you perform. This is going to be so cool."

Sunghoon chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm glad you're excited. It means a lot to me that you'll be there."

When you reach the school gates, Sunghoon turns to you, "Thanks, YN. For coming on Saturday. I know it's going to be awesome with you there."

You smile, giving him a gentle nudge. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you later,"

A FEW DAYS PASS, and you're walking through the bustling school courtyard, lost in thought about what you might wear on Saturday, when you hear someone call your name.

You turn around to see Siwoo, the school's star athlete and the crush you've harbored for as long as you can remember. He's walking toward you with that effortless confidence that always makes your heart race. The chatter around you seems to fade as he gets closer, and you can feel a rush of butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, YN," Siwoo says, his voice smooth and casual. "Got a minute?"

You nod, trying to keep your cool. "Sure, what's up?"

Siwoo runs a hand through his hair, looking almost bashful for a moment. "So, I broke up with Eunae."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Eunae, the queen bee of the school and someone who has made your life particularly difficult, is no longer with Siwoo? You can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. "Oh, wow. I didn't know."

Siwoo shrugs, his usual smirk returning. "Yeah, it just wasn't working out. Anyway, there's this beach party on Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Your heart nearly stops. Is this really happening? You, the one who has always admired him from afar, being asked to a party by Siwoo? Without hesitation, you blurt out, "Oh my god? Yes?"

Siwoo's smirk widens, and he gives you a wink. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

As he walks away, you can't help but watch him go, your mind spinning. The butterflies in your stomach are in full force now, and you feel like you're floating. You finally manage to turn around and head to your next class, but your thoughts are excitement and disbelief.

For the rest of the day, you can't focus on anything. You keep replaying the moment in your mind, wondering if it was all a dream. But no, it was real, and now you have plans for Saturday with Siwoo.

YOU STEP OUT OF THE LIMO, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, ready to face another day of classes and the usual high school chaos. But today, something feels off.

Suddenly, there's a commotion. A crowd of photographers and reporters seem to materialize out of nowhere, cameras flashing and microphones thrust towards you.

"Is it true you're the princess of Genovia?"

"How long have you known?"

"What's your next step as royalty?"

You stand there, stunned and overwhelmed. Your heart races as the realization dawns on you: the secret is out. You glance around frantically and spot Haneul, your best friend and the only person you trusted with the truth. Her eyes are wide with shock, and you can't help but wonder if she was the one who let it slip.

Everyone around you is whispering, their curious and excited gazes fixed on you. Some are even reaching out, asking for your autograph.

Before you can fully process what's happening, you're gently but firmly guided through the crowd by school security and pushed towards the principal's office.

You sit in the chair, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts and questions. Moments later, the door opens, and your grandmother strides in.

"YN," she says, her tone calm but serious. "We need to discuss the next steps for you. I've already spoken to the principal about the necessary procedures to ensure your safety and academic success."

You nod, still in a daze. "What's going to happen now?"

She sits down beside you, her expression softening slightly. "Things will change, my dear. There will be more security, and certain aspects of your education will need to be adjusted to accommodate your new responsibilities. But don't worry, we'll handle this together."

The principal enters, looking a bit flustered but maintaining a professional demeanor. "We've arranged for additional security measures starting today. Also, your schedule will be slightly adjusted."

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb everything.

THE SUN IS SETTING OVER THE BEACH, casting a warm golden glow across the sand. The beach party is in full swing, with music playing and laughter filling the air. You’re sitting with Siwoo by a bonfire, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze and the warmth of his presence. He’s been attentive all evening, and you can hardly believe that you're here with him, the guy you’ve admired for so long.

He leans in closer, his voice low. "I'm really glad you came tonight, YN."

You smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Me too, Siwoo."

Just as the moment seems perfect, a sudden burst of light blinds you. You blink, confused, as you realize it’s the flash of a camera. Then another, and another. You look around and see a swarm of paparazzi emerging from the shadows, their cameras aimed directly at you.

"Princess YN, over here!"

"How does it feel to be the princess of Genovia?"

The questions come rapid-fire, and the crowd presses closer. Panic sets in as you realize your private moment is being invaded. You look at Siwoo, who seems just as stunned as you are.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he says, grabbing your hand.

You run together, dodging through the throng of people and flashing cameras. He leads you to a small beach shed and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

Siwoo looks at you, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect this."

He steps closer, his gaze intense. "Neither did I. But, YN, there's something I've wanted to do all night."

He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But something feels off. The reality of your situation crashes down on you. This isn’t how you imagined it, not surrounded by paparazzi and hiding in a shed.

You try to pull away, but Siwoo's grip tightens slightly.

Just as you're about to push him away, the door of the shed creaks open slightly, and the flash of a camera captures the moment. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks. This was all a setup. Siwoo purposely kissed you in front of the cameras.

"I can't do this," you say, your voice trembling as you push your way out. "I'm sorry."

Before he can respond, you slip out of the shed, the flashes blinding you once again. You hear the paparazzi shouting and the clicks of their cameras, but all you can think about is getting away. You run down the beach, tears stinging your eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING, you pick up the newspaper on your doorstep and your heart drops at the front-page headline:

THE DAILY BUZZ

PRINCESS OF GENOVIA HAS A BOYFRIEND?

Photos of the Princess in a Beach Scandal

Your stomach churns as you see the photos of Siwoo kissing you splashed across the front page. The headline is bold, the images intrusive and unmissable. The story details the scandal that erupted at the beach party, with paparazzi capturing every moment of your private exchange.

You arrive at school, clutching the newspaper in your hand. Whispers follow you through the halls, eyes lingering on you with curiosity and judgment. You can hear snippets of conversations as you pass by.

"Did you see the photos? I can't believe it's true!"

"She's really the princess of Genovia, and now she's got a boyfriend?"

The words sting, but what hurts more is the realization you have yet to face: Sunghoon. You had forgotten about the whole performance on Saturday. You scan the hallway and finally spot him by his locker, his face buried in a book. As you approach, he looks up, and your heart sinks further. His eyes are cold, filled with disappointment and hurt.

"Sunghoon," you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "I—"

But before you can continue, the bell rings, echoing through the corridor. You glance at the clock, realizing you have to get to your private class. You want to stay and explain, to apologize, but you know you can’t afford to be late.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, but Sunghoon has already turned away.

YOU RETREAT TO YOUR ROOM, hoping for some quiet time. Hours pass as you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in your mind—the paparazzi, the headlines, Sunghoon's hurt expression.

As the night deepens, a realization slowly dawns on you, one that sends a jolt through your heart. You don't have feelings for Siwoo. The excitement and attraction were all lies, fueled by the thrill of being noticed by someone so popular. But when you think about Sunghoon, it's different. You remember all the moments you've shared, the way he makes you laugh, the way he genuinely cares about you.

Sitting up, you take a deep breath. It’s Sunghoon. It’s always been Sunghoon.

YOU PACE AROUND YOUR LIVING ROOM, your heart heavy with the weight of the misunderstanding. Mustering the courage, you pick up the phone and call him.

"Hey, can you come over? I really need to talk to you," you ask softly.

There's a pause on the other end before Sunghoon finally agrees.

When he arrives, he looks weary, the pain still evident in his eyes. You take a deep breath and begin, "Sunghoon, I'm so sorry. I need to explain what happened. Siwoo was using me, and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I didn't meant to skip your band performance."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I… I believe you."

"I know, and I'm so sorry," you repeat, your voice earnest. After a moment, you look at him, your heart pounding. "There's something else. Can you come to the ball with me? It's the Genovia Special Ball, and I want you to come with me."

Sunghoon looks at you, surprised. "What?"

You smile a little and repeat yourself, "Will you come with me to the ball?"

After a few moments, he nods slowly. "Okay, I'll go."

THE DAY OF THE GRAND BALL HAD FINALLY ARRIVED, but instead of excitement, you were overwhelmed with stress. Your grandmother was incredibly upset about the whole situation, her stern words echoing in your mind. The pressure of becoming a princess was suffocating, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to run off.

As you hurriedly packed your things, you noticed a letter on your desk. With trembling hands, you opened it and began to read.

"Dearest Y/N,

If you’re reading this, it means the time has come for you to embrace your destiny. I know it seems daunting, but remember, you are stronger than you think. You have the heart of a lion and the grace of a swan. Being a princess isn’t about perfection; it’s about kindness, courage, and love. I believe in you, and I know you will make me proud. Trust yourself, and remember, you are never alone.

With all my love, Dad"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his words. You realized, you couldn't run away from reality and you had to face it.

Meanwhile, at the ball, Sunghoon was waiting anxiously. He felt betrayed and worried as you hadn't shown up yet. Your grandmother, too, was nervous, glancing at the door every few minutes, hoping you would walk through.

Sunghoon paced near the entrance, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He felt a pang of hurt, thinking you had left him again.

Your grandmother, regal yet tense, addressed the crowd with a forced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. My granddaughter will be joining us shortly."

Determined, you dashed out into the pouring rain, hailing a taxi to the grand party. The rain soaked through your dress, but you didn’t care. You arrived, drenched from head to toe, but your resolve was unshaken. You rushed inside, interrupting your grandmother's speech. She was shocked to see you, but relief washed over her face as she motioned for you to come forward.

"Y/N, my dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You made it."

Soaking wet, you stood beside her, and she handed you the microphone. Despite your usual fear of public speaking, you felt an unexpected calmness. You began your speech, your voice steady and clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you started, taking a deep breath, "I apologize for my tardiness. Today, I was reminded of the true meaning of being a princess. It’s not about the crown or the title, but about the responsibility to lead. My father’s words reminded me of this, and I am here to honor him and all of you."

You paused, scanning the room filled with expectant faces. "Being a princess means embracing the values that truly matter: compassion, integrity, and dedication to our people. It's about standing up for what is right, even when it is difficult. It's about listening to the voices of those who cannot be heard and offering a hand to those in need."

You took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown yet also the support of your father's spirit. "My father taught me that true leadership comes from the heart. It's about being a beacon of hope and a pillar of strength for others. I promise to uphold these values and to be the princess that you all deserve."

The crowd listened intently, and by the time you finished, they erupted in cheers. Your grandmother placed the crown on your head, and you were officially crowned princess.

YOU SLIPPED INTO A BREATHTAKING GOWN OF SILK AND LACE , its intricate design accentuating your every movement. Your hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, adorned with delicate jewels that sparkled under the ballroom lights.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you re-entered the ballroom. The music had started, and couples were already dancing. Your eyes searched the room until they found Sunghoon, who was waiting for you near the dance floor. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly made his way to your side.

"You look stunning," he whispered, offering his hand. You blushed and took it, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "Shall we?"

He led you to the center of the dance floor, and the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he began to lead you in the dance. The world seemed to fade away as you moved in perfect harmony, your eyes locked on each other.

"You did amazing tonight," Sunghoon said, his voice low and sincere. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admitted. "Thank you for believing in me."

As the dance continued, the room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the two of you in focus. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

Your heart raced, and you felt a flutter of anticipation. "What is it?" you whispered, barely able to breathe.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I always have."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

You could feel his heartbeat through the closeness, and you melted into his embrace. Your hands instinctively reached up, one resting on his shoulder while the other gently tangled in his hair.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you confessed, your voice trembling with happiness. "I always will."

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - CHAPTER TWO

As promised, here's chapter two! Revised, with some additions to some places, and hopefully no more typos.

I have a good part of the next one planned, so hopefully it won't take too long to update!

And, as promised, here's Mizi's extra;

Mizi is aware she sometimes doesn't have the best notion of how famous she is.

Her mom was one of the few who tried quite hard to shelter Mizi from the media while supporting her dream to be a singer. She's always kept Mizi humble, showed her how to budget and where all the money from her commercials went to.

Also, Mizi met and fell in love with Sua quite early, when she barely knew what love meant. She's never had to deal with people lying and manipulating their way into her circle; Sua has always been there by her side, looking over her contracts, giving advice, steering Mizi in the right direction, her own lodestar.

It all means that she's still a little bit uncertain of the effect she has on people. She still sees herself as that girl with glasses and braces, too shy to speak up unless she was in the middle of performing.

So, when she walks into the recording studio, cheerfully greeting Till and saying she's got his coffee order, she's a little bit surprised by how surprised and flustered he gets.

Mizi has to admit, Ivan has good taste; she doesn't like boys, but Till is plenty cute, especially when he's all flustered with that shy smile on his lips. It's endearing.

They go over their greetings, say all the pleasantries, and sit down to discuss the song in more depth, since she quite enjoys hearing about the creative process of a piece before recording; it helps her get the right sentiment for it.

Till finally sips his coffee as she's looking over his annotations for discarded lyrics.

"Oh, this is…" He's looking at the cup, surprised. Mizi tilts her head.

"It's how you normally order it, right?" She asks, thinking back to try and remember if she asked for the wrong order. It was quite a complicated one. "That's what Ivan said, at least."

He startles, a blush overtaking his face before he shakes his head and leans forward. She can see his hand closing in a fist over his knee.

"Oh, uh did… Ivan tell you to order this?" He asks, and she nods, before a thought strikes her. Ivan actually gave her something else for Till!

He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but Mizi knew him well, Ivan was excited when he handed it to her a week ago. She'd always remember him as Sua's little brother, peeking around a corner to watch the both of them, running to hide when Mizi looked over but always coming back.

She'd invited him in to sit with them as they made flower crowns, and Ivan pretended reluctance, but sat beside Sua, as far away from Mizi as he could. He'd just listened as they talked, somehow always surprised if Mizi addressed him. He'd worked quite hard on his own crown, eyeing Mizi as she taught Sua, and scampered away the moment Sua's father's voice echoed from the house, signaling his arrival.

(She remembers seeing the crown on Sua's nightstand, Sua telling her with wry smile that Mizi never saw directed at herself that he'd waited until she was outside the house to leave his gift.

She remembers Sua, already eighteen and the loveliest person Mizi had ever seen, holding Mizi's hand below the comforter, whispering that Ivan was such a brat, that he refused to be nice to his classmates, how he'd make friends if he'd just stop biting before anyone had the chance to get close.

It took years of constantly being by Sua's side, years of reaching out and asking his opinion, years to prove again and again that she wouldn't crack down on him if he said something she didn't like. She always felt so warm, glad that Sua's important person trusted her so much.)

He was a little odd, Sua's little brother. He'd grown up with some ideas about how socializing worked, and she would blame it on Sua's father, the asshole, except when they were all living on their own and Ivan was confident enough in her to speak his mind, he had some truly terrible ideas that she was sure were all his own.

He'd break into her and Sua's apartment by the window on Sua's office – she was sure Sua picked that bedroom exactly because it was closer to the fire escape – instead of using his key, leave gifts on Sua's bed like a cat dragging a dead mouse to their owner. He'd hear from Sua that Mizi had a bad day and spent close to one hour filling their chat with cat pictures, but he'd never reach out to actually talk to her. He remembered Mizi's drink and takeout order, and always brought some gift with him everytime he came to visit, like he wouldn't be welcome without it.

Mizi was sure that whatever Ivan had her bring to Till was similar in its thoughtfulness and just as deranged in motivation, but she'd decided long ago that questioning him just made him more likely to close off.

"Here, this is from Ivan as well!" She chirped, digging around her purse for it. It's a thin, rectangular package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Till puts his coffee down, still flushed, and flicks his eyes back at her. She smiles and makes a shooing motion; she's curious! "Open it!"

Till bites his lip, but smiles back at her, carefully tugging the paper free. Oooh, he's so cute, she'd just have torn it open. Soon enough the gift reveals itself to be a leather-bound journal, the kind that has a tiny metal clasp to keep it shut. It also has Till's name engraved in a beautiful looping cursive that Mizi happens to recognize as Ivan's.

Till's eyes are huge as he runs one hand over the leather, reverent, and then opens it. She can't see what's inside, but whatever it is, makes Till's face erupt in a blush. Ooooh, what's that!!

She doesn't have the time to say anything, he mumbles something about needing a moment, and basically flees from the room. Mizi shrugs, she has no idea what that was about, and she's more than happy to take the opportunity to message Sua about how weird her brother is.

As always, Sua answers readily, teasing and warm and kind, asking how Mizi is, if she remembered her snacks. Mizi says she's fine, and Sua sends a picture of their cat, Nabi, which just happens to include the tentalizing view of Sua's thighs on the backdrop. Nabi is kneading Sua's belly.

Mizi is so jealous, she sends back a picture of herself pouting.

By the time Till gets back, she forgot all about the journal, soo distracted by her girlfriend. He asks if she's ready to record, which fills her with enthusiasm again.

The session goes well, they run through the song twice before heading into the booth; Mizi has more fun than she's had recording in a while. The song is just so good, and Till is a delight to work with, he doesn't try to outshine her, or let himself fade into the background. They sing together, to each other, shaking their heads to the beat and even dancing in place. They grin and feel the beat together.

It's such a nice time, Mizi leaves the session in better spirits than she'd been in a while. She doesn't even notice Till's serious expression as he collects his things, including the journal.

She just wishes him goodbye, tells him they need to get lunch after the photoshoot next week, and leaves, eager to get back home to Sua.

[missmielyhoran]

Housemate

in which Y/N finds a cheap place to live...

(Werewolf!Harry × Florist!reader)

Masterlist

*****

Moving out was a hard task and harder than that was finding a place to live.

You thought packing your bags and moving out of your parents' house after one bad fight was some kind of badass move, but it came to bite you in the ass.

You were living in your best friend's apartment, but she herself was moving in with her boyfriend, and the apartment was already bought by the next owners, and you only had two days left.

Most of the places you saw were either too expensive, too shady, or too far from your shop.

Losing all hope, you sat down on the bench in the park and ate your burrito. Tears of frustration and anger were pricking in your eyes when a piece of paper flew straight on your face and stuck to it.

You removed it from your face groaning. The first thing you saw was 'housemate needed' in bold letters, and like fate pulling you in, you walked straight to the address, forgetting all about your burrito.

*****

Harry was in desperate need of a roommate. Someone would think being who he is, he wouldn't have to worry about bills and shit but it was a modern world, even his dad had to go to work.

His work pay wasn't cutting it, though. He was struggling to pay his bills and still have some money left for food and stuff or in his savings. Then Niall suggested getting a roommate like he did. The idea would have been great if he was a normal human being, but he wasn't. He was a walking danger.

A blaring warning signal on legs was who he was.

His house was beautiful if he said so himself. It was a decent size, two rooms, and a bathroom with an open kitchen-living room plan. Most of the walls decorated with pastels. Living room walls were baby blue but a specific shade he loved with loads of plants.

No one wanted to live near the forest, which was the problem. His house of near forest (for obvious reasons) and most of the people living there were either like him or old people who just wanted to live off their days in peace.

He had just plopped himself down on his couch when the bell rang. He stood up straight, something about whoever it was on the door made his senses perk up. He fixed his jeans and patchwork cardigan he made himself. Harry walked towards the door, the unknown feeling growing and growing.

He calmed and took a deep breath before opening the door. But when he did, he forgot how to breathe. There you were in a cute little yellow sundress with black boots and the biggest smile showing your dimple on the left cheek.

"Hi" You said like a bird in some disney movie. You looked like a disney character with big almost animated looking eyes, curly hair tied up in a half up do.

"Hi" He mumbled shyly and welcomed you in. He wasn't very outgoing but in front of you he felt different. It was like he was a teenager again interacting with crush for the first time.

He really hoped you would agree to live here cause he didn't know if he could let you go.

"I saw the ad for a housemate? I honestly didn't know flyers were still a thing you know cause of Craigslist and stuff. " You laughed lightly while Harry's face went red.

"My friend suggested I should get another person here cause of expenses, and I'm not good with the internet, so I did what I knew," He said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He grew up different from the others, and he also didn't like social media, to be honest.

He was basically a grandma in 25 years old boy's body, as Niall says.

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that." Your eyes widened, thinking you had made him feel bad. The walking around the whole area has gotten you tired and maybe a grumpy, "Oh my god, I'm sorry"

That made him laugh, showing off the deep dimples on both sides of his cheeks, his eyes crinkling. He looked like a squished grape, but in a cute way, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and hold his face for entern-

Woah there calm down.

"I like this place a lot," you said, turning away before you could do something embarrassing.

"I will show you around," He said, walking in front of you. It was a small house with a small entryway with a shoerack and medium-sized mirror. The living room was blue with loads of plants and a yellow couch with a matching love seat, giving it a pop of colour. The kitchen was also blue with white cupboards, an island facing the back o the couch.

There were two doors, one of which you guessed was Harry's room and other yours. "This is my room" He said opening the room, it was everything you expected, white walls with a blue accent wall, crumbled white sheets on bed in middle of the room, a desk near the window and loads of plants.

"Blue is your favorite I take," you teased, watching him smile shyly and mumble a yeah.

Then we got to the other room, it was sage green with an old couch in the middle and that was it. It was a decent size enough for you. There was a window just like in his. It was identical to most.

"So...do you like it?" Harry trailed off. He was anxiously looking at you trying to figure out if you liked it or not.

"I love it!" You gave him a big smile and walked in more to look around. The whole house had a musky smile, like soil after rain, foresty, and you were in love.

"I might have to tell you I might steal your clothes cause they look good and comfy." You teased him and gave a cheeky laugh.

Harry was about to jump in happiness like a puppy getting asked if he wanted a treat, and in a way, it was.

"You can take whatever you want." He smiled, and you there it was the urge to just pinch his cheeks, and this time you gave in.

You extened your hand and gave him a soft pinch on cheek, "You're soo cut-" You cut off your sentence and removed your hand. It felt like an electric shock went through when you touched him.

Harry felt it too, a lot harder than you. His eyes were matching his, wide in shock. You didn't know what it meant, and neither did Harry, but it wasn't something normal, and neither was them being so undeniably pulled towards each other.

"I never got your name," Harry asked in hushed in voice, your eyes on his emerald ones.

"Y/N," you replied in the same voice, not wanting to break the moment. Harry smiled, thinking how your name suited you a lot.

"Welcome to Lone Cottage, Y/N"

*****

Here is my soft puppy boy, istg i love him sm

Taglist- @indierockgirrl @gotthecinema @matildasatellite

Please Like,Comment and Reblog!

You can talk to me or send me feedbacks here♡

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Walking Shell

Debut: Rayman 2: The Great Escape

Hello! This is not a pencil. I know it looks very much like one. Please try to keep pencil thoughts to yourself until the reception after the post, where we WILL be serving tiny hot dogs. If you didn't think this looked like a pencil before, I'm sorry that now you'll only be able to see a pencil. But this is a missile! Shell, like a bombshell! Get it? Yeah! Ok.

It is a very cute and lovable missile, too! This is what Mario does to us. It makes it normal for missiles and bombs and bullets to be cute. This missile even has a skull-style emblem of the Bad Guy on its back... but it has legs! It is Walking Shell, after all! And that's not even the best and most precious part...

It has a DOGHOUSE!!! What the heck! This missile is literally an animal. Someone makes little houses for these missiles to sleep in. I think they are beloved! Even if they are just sort of like guard dogs, being Enemies stationed at certain points, I love to see such in-universe appreciation for a dawdling deathtrap.

When a Walking Shell senses Rayman (I think it should have the ability to Smell), it becomes a Running Shell, and really books it with those funny little legs it has! And with every footstep a lovely tock-tock-tock sound. They're gonna getcha! Gonna getcha! Until they get tuckered out. They stop running and just stand there, bobbing up and down, like they're panting!

I'm sure you're familiar with the classic All Animals Are Dogs trope, where regardless of species, an animal in a piece of media acts like a dog instead of its actual species (unless it's a cat, I guess). And boy, does that get tiring. I love dogs! But they are the only animals that act like dogs, because they are the animals that are dogs!

Anyway, Walking Shell acts like a dog, but THIS is a missile with two legs and no other features whatsoever! It's such a novel thing to act like a dog! A real innovation in the Thing That Acts Like A Dog department! With its two legs and pointed front, I would think if anything it would act like a chicken, and "peck" the ground as an idle animation, or something. But don't worry, farmheads! Look!

After it gets tired, Rayman can mount the Walking Shell, and it will rear up and neigh like a horse! Real dogs do not become horses. Yes, I do know many animal facts, why do you ask? Walking Shell will then cheese it and run over any terrain at high speeds! Sadly, the goal of these sections is to guide it into a wall so that it will explode on impact and destroy the wall. And that's so sad!!!

Yeah, this is a missile, it's destined to explode, but they also made a point of portraying it as an animal, a creature, one that can even be befriended. It's almost like if the Yoshi Dismount Jump was necessary to end every level where Yoshi was found. I think Rayman should adopt a Walking Shell, and walk it on a leash, and literally just let it be a dog. But be careful it doesn't bump into anything too hard!

Welcome to TOY CORNER. Toys are an important part of Walking Shell's history! Rayman is, obviously, a nightmare to design toys of. You could have strings to represent his floaty hands and feet, but then he doesn't look like Rayman, he looks like Ol' Strings Fer Arms Raym'n, who is not real! So, they had to get creative. And it worked, I think! In toy form, Rayman is always accompanied by some kind of prop that his hands and feet can be directly attached to. It may limit play possibilities, but it's better than the alternative, which is nothing. I hope you are getting excited reading this tangent on a post about Rayman's funny steed...!

Here it is! Walking Shell McDonald's Toy, for you to enjoy! The legs are sort of sticking straight out, but it is still unmistakably our friend. The exhaust pipe can be turned to make it go forward and occasionally turn in circles!

Gee. What a great concept. They get to put Rayman's hands and feet somewhere secure, and we get to know there are Walking Shell toys out there! It would be great if they did this again.

Wow! They did this again! This time in plush form! Walking Shell is truly just a creature so nice you gotta make a toy of it twice. This plush fascinated me for a few reasons. First, it's from Rayman 3, and Walking Shell is only in the GBA version of that game, which is absolutely not the Main version, and yet it gets toy spotlight again (this is a good thing). Second, it is directly modeled after the McDonald's toy, with the legs in the exact same position. I am intrigued by this, like, translating a McDonald's toy into a more "real" toy, if that makes sense.

Would you let Walking Shell sniff your hand? Be careful!

[kloppinthekop]

Have you ever thought what would be trent/domi's shopping style? Who would be spending more time in selecting items, who would spend more bucks? Who would like to try new things? Would any of them change their mind and return stuff after purchasing 😝 and lastly what is the thing they would rather die than being seen wearing 🤪

Hi anon! ✿ Sorry for the late response, but this is a fun topic to ponder and I ended up having many thoughts, lol! Okay, hmm, so I think that Domi is definitely more eclectic with his sense of fashion, more playful and willing to try new things. I think most of the time he feels comfortable staying within brands he knows, like LV or Gallery Dept, but occasionally some new designer or style will catch his eye and he’ll become super obsessed with it for a month or two. He probably lurks on a few fashion influencers’ pages, clicking through the tags when he sees a cool pair of trousers and then spending ages scrolling through all the options before buying something, maybe ending up with a OOAK customised piece. He will splurge on a statement item and then make sure he has all the other pieces and accessories to match it (shoes, sunnies, etc.) just right. But although he occasionally branches out to independent designers, for everyday/casual clothing he’ll usually stick with brands/designers he knows.

Either way, he loves to wear more unique pieces—his light blue LV backpack with the adorable patches, his checkerboard trousers, the basketball player pants, etc.—and isn’t afraid to make a bold fashion statement. He likes when people think he looks good, but he also really doesn’t care when other people don’t like his sense of style. He can do the fuckboy/frat boy look that everyone expects—and he’ll look hot doing it—but he also can rock a sparkly suit and embrace his camp fashionista side.

Once he’s bought something, he doesn’t do returns—no regrets; he’s very confident in what he likes, even if his best friends or people on social media make fun of him for an outfit.

Ultimately he knows what he likes and wants to have fun.

(I love him for that.)

Trent, on the other hand, cares very much what other people think about him and how he looks. His style is usually a bit more bland because of that, but also, he dresses like he’s born and bred in Liverpool, you know? Nothing too flashy—he’s from a working class town, and his sense of style usually reflects that.

Loves a trackie, loves a hoodie; will usually choose comfort over style. Usually sticks with neutral shades, but they work well on him. He wants people to focus more on his talent and his hard work, and ultimately, he’s more interested in being known as a footballer than a style icon. (However, that obviously doesn’t stop him from being competitive in everything he does, and fashion is no exception. He still thinks he’s the best-dressed in the team, with maybe the occasional exception of Virgil, which Trent will allow just because Virg is the captain and all that.)

He’s lucky that he’s so naturally good-looking, because yeah, he sometimes relies on that face card. But that’s okay, because I mean, look at that face!

Domi will spend more on a single item (and definitely more on jewelry), but Trent will spend more overall. At home, Domi will wear whatever is clean, and in fact wears a lot of team clothing or swag that he’s gotten for free. Trent probably spends a lot of money on trainers, and I bet he has clothing items that he thinks are cool but maybe just too over-the-top for normal situations, so they stay hidden in his closet until he has the opportunity to go somewhere like Milan Fashion Week.

Domi wouldn’t be caught dead in fur. Trent wouldn’t be caught dead in a sparkly suit. (He loves how Domi looked in his though… maybe a little too much to admit. This is why he never commented on Domi’s Instagram post about the Hungarian Male Athlete of the Year award, because he was stressing over how stupid that suit looked but how stupid good it looked on Domi specifically. And kept getting distracted… 😌)

Anyways, these are just my thoughts! Thanks for the ask. 🙏

[gltownsend]

Hello hello! This is the writeblr library's librarian with some questions. You can choose to do question one, question two, or both! (and there's no time limit btw <3) Have fun!

~will be reblogged onto the writeblr library~

What inspired your WIP? Was it another piece of media? Multiple pieces of media? A certain genre? Tropes? Parts of your life? A hyper-specific random thing

What environment gives you the best ideas for your WIP? Do you have a playlist? Do you go for a walk? Do you get ideas at 3am and have to write them down NOW otherwise they disappear? Do you write anywhere and anywhere? What gets you in the mood to write?

Hi!! (and thank you!)

1- wow I actually don’t remember! While it’s changed entirely all ship of Theseus-like, I’m pretty sure I actually came up with the original plot of this WIP when I was 11-13 years old (god. So I entered and will exit my teenage years with it). (I put it under the cut if anyone’s curious, haha. It’s very different.)

And 2- I actually really don’t get ideas unless I make room for them. I really have to sit down and write out everything that’s happened up until this point and then write out everything that COULD happen brainstorm and choose. I don’t really get inspiration naturally 🤷‍♂️ it’s all forced, lol. I WISH I was the type of person who got ideas from walking or music or stuff so they didn’t seem so forced sometimes, but I suppose consistency is good too.

Thank you for the ask!! Cool idea and yeah just… thank you >:]

Since it was so long ago I have no clue where I came up with it, but I still remember the super basic idea; a young teenage boy from the normal world gets caught in a forest fire, dies? and wakes up in a high fantasy world (no I’d LITERALLY NEVER read or even heard of a portal fantasy, this was my original idea and I was gutted when I found out it was an already established thing) in a kingdom where royals and nebulously Important People have the power to control fire. He gets sort of taken-in-stray-cat-adopted by the similarly aged not-in-line (so not very important) prince who does have the power. Because he just appeared and has no abilities and no life here.

They’re trying to work out how to get him home when he suddenly starts (oh no!!) making sparks and stuff but he hides it because (Oh No!!) he’s in love with the prince (or something idk I was like 12.) Somehow some confrontation exposes fully fledged fire powers like only a master from this world should have and for some reason this makes the king super flip out. He and the prince flee. It ends there.

- My current plot, in contrast, has a (different) older teenage guy (closer to my age now) as the main character but it doesn’t really start with him. I don’t want to describe it too deeply but the main characters all attend a sort of community boarding school because they live in a society where education and knowledge and ability are really highly valued, more than really any material or object or anything?

(So basically not because they’re rich or important, it’s normal, and the boarding aspect is because everyone lives very communally in general, and higher education doesn’t really exist because of the level of societal development. So this is the only stage in life where they get any real independence from their parents, because as adults usually people return and live in family groups again so this is how they learn to be self sufficient away from parents, I suppose?)

Anyway there is a younger kid about 10 in the junior school who is having weird stuff happen to him and it’s sort of related to the ghosts, which are a normal aspect of the world which is where time is wearing kind of thin and you can see echoes of people from the past or future through, and something happens that makes main character, friend group, and child need to leave school to try to work out what’s happening.

There is a bunch of weird time stuff in the middle like things happening and unhappening, and time loops but short, and it’s got the same sort of beats because it’s overall a sort of coming-of-age romance between main character and his best friend, and it was originally an adventure romance between main character and new wow prince.

…there were a bunch of middle iterations between this with the characters from current iteration in the current world but with a similar plot to original story (basically some people have fire powers, some people have healing powers, main character is supposed to have healing powers but then he randomly has fire too, this makes people flip out, he runs away with love interest (roommate) and then I never knew what happened after that…) but this final iteration is the first one to have an ending.

In 2019 it briefly went through a real-world (not fantasy) post-apocalyptic phase in the aftermath of a plague where they had been on a school trip on one side of America (a distant and exotic place!) when everyone had died or become evil and now they were trying to get back home in a stolen van when none of them could drive because they were underage teens. So road trip across America to the other side after plague. Scrapped shortly before Covid, actually.

[flammelikeshookdust]

Damn who is the new blorbo, share with the class. He sounds interesting.

Aaaah sorry or the late reply, didn't get the ask notification on mobile 🙄

Now, about this new blorbo *cracks knuckles* Like I was saying on that other post, I recently rewatched the 10th Kingdom, a kinda obscure 5 parts mini series that I'd watched once as a kid when it aired on tv, and asolutely adored. I then spent the next two decades desperately searching for a piece of media that would make me feel the exact same way that this show had at the time. Also could not for the life of me remember the title, and I had half convinced myself that this whole series was a fever dream and that it didn't actually exist. Skip to a couple of weeks ago, where I saw a random tumblr post mentioning this series, awakening all my memories of it, then I found that all 5 parts of it were available for free on youtube. Thus began my obsession with the 10th Kingdom again, and more specifically with Wolf. My best friend. My pal. My homeboy. My rotten soldier. My sweet cheese. My good time boy. Wolf is the love interest of our main girl. He's also a werewolf. Half-wolf. I don't know. He's got a tail. He sometimes grows fangs. His eyes can change colors. He howls when he's sad, he growls when he's angry/horny, he scratches his head, he tries to cook grandmothers, he says "huff puff". He's basically the big bad wolf from fairy tales but played by a normal looking guy. Yeah cause I haven't mentioned it yet, but the 10th Kingdom is just a seven hours long love letter/parody of fairy tales. Think similar to Shrek. Or Once Upon a Time. With over the top acting, terrible special effects, and a plot that's either very dumb and silly, or rips your heart out, there is no inbetween. Also it's very horny. Again especially with Wolf. I cannot overstate how not subtle the show is with this, from the acting to the dialogue. When I watched it as a kid, these parts completely flew over my head though, so I still consider it a family friendly show. Anyway, this show also has prolematic elements (my main beef with it is that the only POC actors we see in it play trolls. The trolls are very cool though), and just in general, it's very much a product of its time. However, I still love it, and I think it's worth giving it a try, especially since it's all on youtube for free. Sorry, this ended up being more of a propaganda post for the 10th Kingdom in general 😅 But yeah, Scott Cohen as Wolf really did a great job making him a compelling and likeable character. He manages to be creepy and funny and touching, and you can tell he was having a lot of fun in this role. I lowkey wish I could draw a hookdust 10th Kingdom au but the vibes are so different, I don't think it would work. I guess Wolf and James are both tormented guys with a dark and destructive side to them. But James is a manipulative prick, whereas Wolf is completely unable to pretend.

[talenlee]

Smooch Month 2023 — Blending The Blandness

New Post has been published on PRESS.exe: Smooch Month 2023 — Blending The Blandness

Here we are, in 2023 and our first! theme month! It’s February, the month of Valentines Day and my dead grandmother’s birthday, and since people are going to be selling chocolates at a discount at some point and TV will be screening romantic media, it’s of course, the best of times to focus on that, in our theme of Smooch Month!

And of course, when it’s Smooch Month, we get to see two particular types of article, which I’m going to try to get out of the way ahead of time: One, ‘here’s what I mean by Smooch Media,’ and two, ‘wow, it’s super hard to write Pile articles this month.’

When I talk about Smooch Month media, what I mean is media that is focused primarily on characters having a romantic relationship that develops in the story and where the indulgence of that relationship is the main reason to engage with the story. It’s about being able to watch something and enjoy the way the characters are enjoying one another. It’s not just ‘romantic’ mind you – after all, you wouldn’t call Beauty and The Beast a ‘romantic’ movie in the same type as say This Means War (though they’re both bad and treat women as objects, ho ho), but you’re definitely meant to enjoy the relief and satisfaction of The Right Person Getting To Hold The Right Hand.

Ostensibly the point of Smooch Month was to try and get me to look at media outside of my normal interests. After all, if I don’t look at smoochy media, then in a month of smoochy media, I’m going to see, what, at most, four pieces of Smooch media? Four movies, four books, four TV shows, four whatevers — if I have a whole year to work on them, surely I can find the best in that context, right?

Yeah, well, turns out ‘the best’ is really bad!

I think it’s partly form function. Smoochy stuff in media either is built around a long term, will-they-won’t-they kind of tension as you saw in the romantic sitcom like How I Met Your Mother or Friends that builds joke after joke on the same question of how boring people manage being in love. There’s movies, which want to make ninety minutes or so of telling you a story where you meet a character and get along with them, and then get to see them fail to get together then suddenly oh ho, check it out, they got together.

Books, there’s a lot of stuff in romantic literature, but also I do enough reading that I need to be engaged with the writing itself. I guess there’s smut books as well, but you’re probably not going to see me telling you anything about that kind of storytelling, thanks.

I think, basically, for the subject to be just characters hanging out and having a relationship, I need to find them interesting, then I need for that interestingness to play out over a meaningful length of time while they do something. Basically, I think, for me, the ideal shape of a smoochy piece of media is probably a single-season anime, about 13 episodes long.

Of course! Anime is one of the few mediums I enjoy that has a specific romantic form that I tend to enjoy. And yes, I’m going to absolutely lean on that for this month, but also, you might notice a trend in that space of the romantic media being a lot more inclined towards queer romance. I think about this a lot when I do Smooch Month media versus Pride Month media – because almost everything that matters in Pride Month can also matter in Smooch Month, but there’s a lot of hetero Smooch Month that doesn’t work in Pride Month.

I mean unless there’s a bold Ace Rights straight movie going on out there but I somehow doubt it.

Also, in anime, the boys get to be hotter.

A thing I learned in 2022 that stands out to me is that while there’s a really tedious trend towards ‘almost’ romantic queer anime, there’s a lot of actually queer manga, just being published out there, in long forms and short, mixing together so many genres, and it’s just… there. It’s a library of the form, and the fact that anime tends to be produced by people who don’t want to make the explicit, clear outlining of ‘this is a romantic relationship and yes the people involved are the same genders or are transgender’ is a byproduct of the scale of business.

It’s not like I’ve been exclusively looking at queer romances or anything. It is the case though that my attempts to watch more things from more sources I’m mostly watching a lot of stuff that’s kind of boring. I mean, I watched To All The Boys I Loved Before and I couldn’t help but focus helplessly on how alien it was to me. I grew up in a weird little cult environment, sure, but even setting that aside, growing up, I saw all sorts of high school dramas from the Pies America genre, I knew what high schools are ‘meant’ to be like, what high school relationship dramas are ‘supposed’ to be like (and oh hey, look at that, I already wrote about Ten Things I Hate About You, which was contemporary to me and also keyed to my tastes), but things made twenty years later, like, those aren’t going to be meaningful to me and they shouldn’t be!

I do like looking at Hallmark media, because they are so bad and often feature an incredible nothing in the middle of the movie that’s easy to mock and ridicule. But I need to break up those movies to make sure I’m not just going ‘now here’s a load of crap, isn’t this crap?’ because oh my god who cares! They need to be entertainingly bad, right?

I think a few years of Smooch Month has had this as its great, defining truth: I don’t like much smooch media. Romantic comedies tend to be tiresome, hetero romance as presented is built out of things that are typically boring, and the visual genre of two characters who I, ostensibly, should want to kiss or at least see kissing, is overwhelmingly prone towards presenting dudes who are aggressively mid. Any time these things try to get my attention they have to do it with elements of farce or action. I like a few romantic comedies that are also spy stories or crime stories or … well, yeah, the kinds of stories I already like!

And thus, my aim this month? We’re going to talk about some Not Boring Stuff that cares about characters who do a smooch on one another.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[xgryffinwhore]

Hey! Can I request a jaeden martell x reader where basically their charters are dating on a tv show and they are really really good best friends in real life and they they both go on the Jimmy fallon show and he keeps on asking if they’re dating because everyone thinks they are and when they say no he obvi doesn’t let it go lol and it ends up slipping up that jaeden did/ does have a crush on reader and they maybe end up sharing a kiss in front is Jimmy & audience & stuff😶just an idea i had 😂:)

i love this idea wow, thinking i’m going to put my own little twist on it but i think you’ll still be pleased ;)

just friends

warnings!: suggestive topics, fluff

word count: 2.1k

five

your face was being touched up with powder, the cotton pad dabbing at your nose as the white powder absorbed into any oil your face may have had.

four

you look over at jimmy, this wasn’t your first talk show, but it had been the biggest one with the most following. it was intimidating, you bounced your foot up and down and played with your hands.

three

behavior jaeden had grown to recognize. he knew you better then you knew yourself, your anxiety was worse then you put it out to be. “you ok?” he questioned, “fine, i’m fine” you painted a small smile on your face. but he wasn’t easily fooled.

two

he grabbed one of your hands and rubbed circles into your palm, this sent vibrations of relaxation down your spine.

one

his eyes locked with yours, you swore they were a different color each time you saw them. sometimes more blue, sometimes more green, sometimes dark with mystery, sometimes light and playful.

‘aaand where on air’

you wiped the hand that was interlocked with his off on your dress, it was clammy. the curtain came up fast, and your vision was soon flooded with bright lights and silhouettes of bodies.

making out the faces in the sea of people was impossible, but you knew your friends were out there. they had flown out to see you, a) they could go see new york and b) you were on national television, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

jimmy was talking, you knew that much, but your nerves took over and honestly you weren’t registering a damn thing he was saying. the crowd cheered, you snapped out of your daze.

“and here tonight, we have jaeden martell and y/n l/n from the new HBO tv series: turning tables”

he turned to both of us, and gave everyone time to clap. he tired to speak over the loud hands, moving on with his show, but the crowd made that difficult. eventually the clapping died out and he could continue.

“now, i’ve watched all of the episodes but, for the people who haven’t seen: can you explain what the show is about?” he looked a jaeden, you let go of a breathe you had held in.

“s-sure” jaeden turned to face the audience more, he was soft spoken and shy, so it was important he projected as much as he could.

“turning tables is a teen drama. it’s about families of poverty in the seattle washington area and how they struggle to go to school and work. my character, jennings cooper, is the main protagonist. the show is mainly from his point of view, and how he struggle to support his family.”

jimmy nods and smiles, he looks pleased with his explanation. i’m truth the show wasn’t that simple, he knew that. but, it would take so long to explain.

“and y/n, who do you play?” he knew the answer to this obviously, but you were becoming a crowd favorite. everyone loved your personality, and you were an up-and-coming a list celebrity.

“i play parker marlow, jennings girlfriend” you blushed at this statement, the crowd giggled and ‘ouuu’ed. jimmy rubbed his hands together, getting excited at the upcoming topic of discussion.

“so, your romance on season one was steamy” you thought back to the scenes you did together. all of the kissing, which felt normal at this point. he wasn’t a bad kisser, in fact- you didn’t mind it at all. your romance through the season built up to a sex scene, your mind flashed through the memories of filming it.

filming those scenes isnt half as steamy as you think it is. it’s awkward, you laugh a lot. you had never felt that exposed in your life! however watching it was different, it looked so real, so perfect.

you blurred out your thoughts, mr. fallon still speaking on the subject. “can we expect more -“ jimmy searched for your ship name, it was on the tip of his tongue. the combination of your first names on the show didn’t make an attractive combo. it was either jarker or pennings. your last names matched a little better.

“-carlow” jaeden finished for him. jimmy nodded and smiled “yes- carlow- can we expect more carlow next season?” you both looked at each other and smiled. the writers for the show already had the next four seasons laid out. you knew that carlow was a continuing relationship on the show.

“yes, you should expect more of that sort of content from us” you stated. the people in the crowd had a positive responce to this, the applause lapping until it died out once again.

“right, your characters have so much chemistry in the show. two struggling teens just trying to break even.” jaeden agreed “yes, our characters balance each other out, and being from the same background helps them associate. jennings is kind of a bad boy-as the ladies say- he’s a felon, he steels cars and sells them to counterfeit manufacturers and dealers for money. parker, y/n’s character, has a job at a diner. she shows him the light at the end of the tunnel if he chooses to go down a good path.”

“yes, parker gets jennings a job at the diner with her, and he falls for her sweet disposition even after everything she’s been through” you add.

jimmy licks his lips and pops another question: “so id imagine the chemistry in the show heightens the real life thing?” he cocked an eye brow, the group gasping at the intrusiveness.

“jaeden and i are just friends” you blurt out, your nerves working up again. it was hard, you liked jaeden ever since you had your first kiss with him.

“y-yeah” he stutters, he obviously wasn’t expecting this either “friends” jimmy shakes his head and puts his finger on his lip “recently, you both have been showing a lot of pictures of you two together on social media.”

the audience ‘awwwed’ at the photos that displayed behind you. on the screen, there were pictures of you and him that were on both of your instagrams. you two at gardens, getting food, even watching movies at each other’s houses.

“for just friends, these photos looks intimate , wouldn’t you say” a bunch of ‘yes’’s and ‘mhm’’s came from the crowd as both of your faces became red.

“we’re just best friends, honestly” jaeden laughed nervously, he fixed his hair with his hand has he always does.

“right right- can you tell me when this photo is from?” jimmy asked, the last picture flashing on the screen. it was of you both, you had just filmed your first scene together.

the first scene you filmed together was episode two, he saved you after you fell into ice cold water. it was how the characters met, and it was filmed at a cove on a windy august day.

the picture was a little blurry, but it added character. he had his arm around you, both of your hair soaked, and you share a huge towel. you remember how cold you were, your teeth chattered so rapidly. his hair was stuck to his forehead and more small pieces went up. and your lips were almost purple, half from the makeup, half because you swore that was the coldest water you had ever went in.

“that’s from when we first started filming, it was the first time we met in the show” you recited, re living the memory in your head. you remember jaeden pulling your head into his chest when the wind began blowing. you remember his thumb trying to create friction on your back to make you just a little warm.

“yes yes- you two look so adorable!” jimmy squealed, he was the most teenage-girl-grown-man you had ever met. his hand opened one of the drawers in the faux desk he sat behind, pulling out a small blue camcorder.

the camcorder.

you know how on tv shows, there is special footage? sometimes it’s just behind the scene specials but sometimes- sometimes - it’s footage the actors document when they were just having fun? yeah it was one of those camcorders.

the camcorder was brought in by the two other co hosts wyatt oleff and finn wolfhard (i know this cast is sooo original not really) they played jaedens two best friends on the show. while they weren’t filming, they’d dick around and talk about stupid stuff. you’d never seen what they filmed, but you had been featured quite a few times; their by them pranking you, or invading your personal space.

you looked over at jaeden, you watched his adam’s apple bob and a thin layer of sweat flush over his face. he bounced his leg slightly, a habit he had picked up from you.

“let’s just review our material here” jimmy teased, his tongue darting out between his teeth. the video began to play, the sound was loud; assumingely for jaeden quiet voice in the tape.

the video started with wyatts unsteady hand, him and finn were running around set, they stopped at jaeden, he was playing on his phone in his trailer.

“jaeden wesley we have come for you” finn yelled. you could see jaeden shoot up from his chair. “hey guys” he waved. they talked for around a minute, jokes and all. then finn started to giggle, wyatt zoomed in on jaedens face.

“so jaeden, how’s y/n?” he chuckled, jaeden blushed “she’s ok i guess dunno.” wyatt stopped zooming in when the only thing in frame was jaedens head. “the kiss was good hm?” wyatt asked. jaeden continued to play on his phone, he nodded. “yeah, she’s pretty cute too.”

the video cut to another segment, this was filmed after the sex scene. you knew because jaeden laid on the bed you, in the same underwear that he wore during the scene. the boys were jumping on the bed, and jaeden took the camera and talked to it.

“this is for memory and memory ONLY! h-hey y/nnn” he was talking to the camera like it was you “you’re amazing and cool” you could hear finn explode into laughter as he stole the camera back and started running “yeah! and he wants your babies and loves you so much-“ “SHUT UP FINN!!!” and jaeden chased him around.

the video was taken off the screen. your face had become close to ghostly white. it was weird, it was almost like he was dumb enough to think finn wouldn’t give jimmy this blackmail goldmine. you looked at jaeden, he hit his bottom lip until it was red, he itches his neck and laughed it off.

“yeah ok-ok jimmy, maybe i liked her back in the day” jaeden tried so hard to be casual, but jimmy hit him with a heart stopper: “but mr martell, the last clip was filmed less then a month ago!”

your mind flickered with memories and ideas of him.

your first time meeting, how good his hand felt in yours. when you wiped icecream off his chin, and him dotting icecream on to the top of your nose. the way his hair always fell perfectly above his eye brow. and SHIT how he always smelt so fucking good. how he let you fall asleep in his arms and how he never complained when you put on some stupid romcom and-

“y/n?” jimmy questioned. “huh?” you spaced, come on y/n you gotta stop doing that. “i asked how you felt about all of this.” “well, there isn’t a right word i can use.”

jaeden took this has a bad reaction, he did a small wave to the crowd and stood up to get off the stage.

you stood up, grabbed his hand, and laid one right on him. kissing him felt normal, but now that there was emotion behind it, it just felt so right.

you both stopped for air, the crowd went wild. jimmy was clapping too, you could barley hear them, your heart was pumping throughout your whole body. you swore jaeden could hear it.

after the show, you sat in your dressing room for a bit, contemplating the events of tonight, and how they were all broadcasted for your embarrassment. but it was only the beginning. only the beginning of what was to come for mr. and mrs. jaeden martell.

[rextasywrites]

Aftershow - Leon Kennedy x f!reader

with the help of some tricks and your best friend distracting the security guard, you manage to sneak into the after show of the world premiere of “Resident Evil - Infinite Darkness”. It tells the story of federal Agent Leon S. Kennedy, who, after retiring from his career as a federal agent, decided to tackle acting. Ever since you first saw him in “Resident Evil 2”, you were in love with him and couldn’t wait to meet him. So...what would happen at this afterparty?

hey lads i’m back! i hope you enjoy this piece i have been writing the past few days! hope you are doing well xoxo

Warnings: alcohol, smut, Leon being an ass to others sometimes

Your dress clung to your body, making you feel like some overstuffed sausage. It was physically and mentally out of your comfort zone, but your best friend insisted you looked like a million bucks in it, so you begrudgingly purchased it a week before. “But you look fantastic,” your best friend reassured  you when you stood before your mirror earlier that night, awkwardly, tugging at the fabric by your hipsMaybe she was right, but currently she was busy with the security guard to give you the chance to meet your idol and celebrity crush, Leon S. Kennedy. You had heard he’d attend the premiere, and posts on social media confirmed the rumours.Not that you’d ever admit to subscribing to notifications from him, though.

The place was filled with Hollywood executives, actors, and actresses from all over the planet, yet you hadn’t spotted your favourite so far. Maybe he was outside smoking? Busy spending time with fans and writing autographs? Who knew… So you made your way past some gossiping actress towards the bar. A simple Sex on the Beach would calm your nerves. You began to zone out as you sipped on the cocktail- that is, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“And I thought I had met everyone tonight.”

That voice. That fucking voice. You’d recognize it out of a million, and there he was.

On the barstool next to you sat Leon S. Kennedy, and he was touching you at this very moment.

Before you would answer, you chuckled and took a sip from the cocktail, buying your nerves some more time before you’d answer. “Guess not.”, you said and placed the glass on the bar in front of you. “I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you.”

“I’m Leon, but I’m sure you already knew that, nice to meet you too. (Y/N), what a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Say, how is it possible that I haven’t spotted you before?”

Uh oh. Quick, think of something.

“Sorry, bad traffic,” you replied, directly quoting a line from his costar in Resident Evil 4. “But I’m here now, and just in time to celebrate you and your new show!”, you smiled and raised your glass, Leon clicking it together with his own beer glass. “Cheers.” You two took big sips from your beverages, Leon’s hand now gravitating towards your knee.

“Say, would you like to join me on the terrace? It’s getting so hot in here.”, Leon said and pointed towards an open door on the other side of the room. The mere thought of being able to spend more time with him made you agree with his idea, and a minute later you two were sitting on the terrace in a porch swing. Leon had bought you another drink. He was such a gentleman, just like you’d always imagined him.. From time to time, people came to congratulate Leon on the success of his new show, wanting to invite him for a drink or more rounds. Yet every time he declined it, saying he already had enough for the evening.

*

“You weren’t invited, were you?”, Leon asked after some conversation between you two. You had told him a bit about your life, your work, your pets. In return, Leon shared stories of the making of Infinite Darkness, funny bloopers and behind-the-scenes stories you otherwise would never hear. The party had died out by now, it being late and the night becoming colder. Telling him a lie wasn’t an option, so you sighed and nodded. “Thought so. You carry yourself differently.”, Leon said while he lit himself a cigarette, blowing the smoke into the night sky.

“What do you mean?”, confusion was written across your face. Carrying yourself differently?

“Hollywood wankers carry themselves with a confidence that could kill a mortal like us. They think they are invincible, but oh boy they are wrong. You don’t carry that energy about you. You don’t look the type.. How did you get in?”

“My best friend is buddies with the security guard and he owed her a favour.”

“You little minx.”, Leon laughed, taking another drag as his eyes rested on you, taking in your body in this dress you hated, yet in his eyes you were the most beautiful woman in the sea of botox and silicone tits. “If you promise not to spill the whole night on social media, I can show you a whole new world.”, and by the look in his eyes, you both knew the feeling was mutual

*

The penthouse Leon was renting for his stay in your city was more than just breathtaking. Standing by the front window, you could see the whole city, way beyond the city limits. In the bathroom was, next to a big bathtub, a jacuzzi, and an iced down champagne bucket right next to it. “In Hollywood, money has no meaning. You ever seen Wolf of Wall Street? They weren’t fuckin’ lying when they called money ‘fun coupons’”, he laughed when you first entered the penthouse and your eyes had nearly rolled out. The bedroom alone was bigger than your whole flat, the champagne in that goddamn bucket probably worth more than your rent

“If your eyes get any bigger they’ll fall out of your head!”, Leon laughed as he sat down on the huge sofa, the fireplace warming up the room to a comfortable degree. Yet the dress felt too tight, just ready to be taken off...or was that the alcohol speaking? Leon for the cigar box lying atop the coffee table. He offered you one, but you declined - you didn’t smoke, but the mere view of Leon with a big cigar between his lips, legs spread and dress shirt slightly unbuttoned...it went straight to your core, a view millions of women would kill for, presented in front of you. “Like what you see, little minx?”

“Would it be bad if I didn’t.”, you replied, trying to hide your nerves by being cocky. But Leon wasn’t having any of this. He could see through your mask, trying and failing to hide how badly you wanted to straddle his lap and kiss him senseless, seeing stars and whole new universes. Comes with being an ex cop and agent. No secrets could make it past his eyes.

“Come here”, were Leon’s simple words, yet they had an effect on you and your body, something you'd normally be ashamed to admit. You made your way over to Leon on the sofa and instead of sitting next to him, he patted on his lap. “I want you to be comfortable, and I bet you are the most comfortable on my lap. C’mon, it’s the best seat in the house.”, he smirked and...you couldn’t deny it. His thighs were comfortably big, years of hard training paying off in the form of muscle and rough skin under his suit pants.

You weren’t sure why your head felt like it was spinning - was it the alcohol or the intoxicating smell from Leon? A mixture of his unique scent: whiskey and his cologne, all in a cloud around your nose. You wished you would be able to smell him for the rest of your life. All you knew was that your body screamed for Leon, and his body screamed right back. “Here.”, Leon offered you the glass of scotch he had just poured for himself. “There are three types of liquor. Terrible, not so terrible, or do you want to impress people with your money?”, and with those words, he pressed his lips against yours.

*

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“And yet, here we are.”

*

Leon had picked you up after another glass or three of scotch, the way to his bedroom clear. You weren’t sure if it was the warmth from the scotch swelling in your chest or the way his muscular arms wrapped around you, but something in you was one wrong- or right- move away from melting away completely. Your legs were wrapped around his hips as well as possible. The slit on your dress helped you, but suddenly Leon stopped in his tracks. “Are you okay?”, you asked, placing a hand on his cheek, but he looked over the bedroom you two just entered… Suddenly he placed you back down on the floor, kicking the door shut and pushing you against it.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the bed.”, he smirked , his soft hands moving down your sides, leaving goosebumps wherever they touched you. Your dress felt too tight, the room too hot - you needed to get out of it quickly! Leon watched your blush grow, this asshole smirk still on his lips. “I love how real you are.”, he muttered as he leaned in, brushing his lips over your pulse point, just enough to draw a soft gasp from your lips.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, puzzled. Leon just chuckled, “Haven’t you noticed? It’s all Photoshopped. All the women at the premiere had the same fucking ass. Same crooked lips from the same quack doctor. The same busted Botox faces, everywhere you go. Yet they think they’re hot shit.”, he whispered, hot air against your even hotter skin. “But you...look at you.”

And you did. You looked down on yourself and saw nothing but imperfections. You looked back to Leon with a frown but he just laughed, “Hollywood is suffocating as fuck, but you’re like a breath of fresh air.. Look at you! You even have stretch marks! I haven’t seen real stretch marks since I put my first step into a studio!”, Leon took a deep breath, his voice shaking as he said his next sentence, “And I want you so fucking badly.”

*

Only minutes later, Leon had marked you up, hickeys and little bites of pleasure and need covering your upper body, whatever part he could reach. The dress was long gone and you laid on the bed, watching Leon unbuttoning his dress shirt. Underneath the white fabric was a body riddled with scars and old, badly healed wounds. Each and every single one could tell a story you were ready to hear, but right now, all you wanted was Leon and only Leon. And he needed you too.

“Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”, Leon asked as his hands reached behind you, undoing your bra with a simple movement. This man had disarmed bombs before, of course a bra wouldn’t cause him much trouble. “Look at you…”, he repeated once more once your bra was thrown across the room, landing on some random piece of furniture. You blushed under his hungry eyes, him taking in what would be his in mere minutes. “Spread your legs. I wanna taste you.”

*

You had an iron grip on Leon’s hair, bucking your hips to meet his touch. More, more, more! You needed more! While Leon’s tongue teased your entrance, he used his hand to hold you down, keeping you in place like the good girl that you had been. Well, had been until his tongue first licked up your folds, taking in the sweetness of your juices. Leon had consumed many different liquors in his life, but only your sweet juices could rival ambrosia, sending his drunken mind into another plane of existence.

“Leon!”, you moaned out the moment his calloused finger brushed over your clit. It had been begging for attention, but Leon - that dick - kept on lapping up your juices, sucking and nibbling carefully on your folds. The movements of his fingers were in a steady rhythm with the ones of his tongue, making your head spin once more. He knew how to play you like a fiddle, making you putty in his hands.

But before you could cum, Leon pulled away, his face covered in your sweet fluids and he licked over his lips with an obscene sound and a dirty smirk on his lips. “I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you scream my name.”

*

The condom was put on quickly. Magnum, of course. What else would a guy like him need? The first stroke inside of you made you see stars for the third time in less than an hour, what an impact this man had on you. Leon was still inside of you, not moving until you were adjusted to his size, especially his girth. “You okay?”, he asked, to which you gave him a soft nod. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. It’s just… fuck, you’re big..”

Leon’s ego beamed at your words, and once you gave him the okay to continue, it was very hard for him to hold back in any way. You were too tight, too sweet, making him nearly burst on the spot. Instead, his mind wandered...but you were always part of those thoughts.

The wet noises of sex, lust, and unadulterated passion filled the room, along with soft panting and groans coming from you two, a noise as old as humankind. Your arms were tightly wrapped around Leon’s body, leaving behind tiny marks when you needed to hold onto him, your nails digging into his skin. Leon hissed at the stings but fuck, knowing you were marking him up too made him even harder, harder than he had ever been.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”, Leon moaned against your neck and buried his head there for a moment. All you could do was nod in agreement, not trusting your voice anymore. Leon reached down at this, pressing his palm between you two, against your clit. You needed this feeling, you were begging for your release.

*

“Come on, cum for me.”, Leon growled when he felt the first contractions around his cock. The needy undertone of his voice was the last thing you needed to push yourself over the edge. “Leon!”, you moaned and came around him, stilling in your movements. Leon rocked his hips a few more times before his own release overcame him, spilling into the condom as you milked him inside of you. It felt too good to be true, but Leon was real.

Once your high started to fade and the contractions lessened, Leon leaned in for a quick kiss, stealing it from your open lips as you tried to catch your breath again. You smiled up to him, loosening your grip around him. “That was great.”, you smiled and Leon dropped next to you after pulling out.

*

In the early morning hours, you woke up to an empty bed. Leon’s side was cold and you sat up, looking around in confusion. Where was he? He wouldn’t leave you alone, would he? Finally, you spotted him on the balcony and you quickly threw on one of the jackets laying around along with your panties.

“Good morning.”, you smiled at Leon, who was taking a drag from his cigarette. He greeted you while blowing the hot smoke out, then held up his arm, offering you a place next to him. You happily agreed, leaning against his warm body in the fresh morning hours.

“I’d love to see you again.”, Leon said after he exhaled another drag, looking down at you. This took you by surprise - why would he? You weren’t special at all, just a mere fan who managed to get into his penthouse suite with a lot of luck and cleavage. He grabbed his phone from the table next to him, offering you the open contact list, “I’d love to take you out on a few dates and such. Spend time with you. What do you think? Wanna give me your number?”

[klixxy]

Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

-

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ;      ;  -  ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 9: Plans

[prev] [next]

[masterlist]

“Hey, love. I saw this Tiktok...” You sigh heavily as you hear the words come out of Kuroo’s mouth. Every time he shows you a video from that app, he follows it up with a, “let’s do it.”

“What is it this time?” Your eyebrows are furrowed, expressing your disagreement already. You’ve been peacefully relaxing on the bed and your husband really wants to destroy that peace of yours.

“So you rate my exes, and I rate yours. Out of 10,” Kuroo says and you squint your eyes at him in suspicion. There has to be something behind the sudden interest in remaking it.

“Why?” is all you can say at his request.

Kuroo shrugs, a smug look on his face. “Why not?”

He takes out his laptop and opens a social media platform. Placing his laptop on his lap, he pats the space beside him, a sign that he wants you beside him. You sit beside him and he immediately types out a name.

“This was my first girlfriend back in middle school.” He describes and clicks on one of the girl’s posts.

“She’s so pretty. Is that her kid?” You point at the child his ex is holding in picture. Kuroo nods. “So was she nice? I have to rate her through her personality.”

“She was nice. But she left me for a college student,” Kuroo explains.

“Oh, so she’s a victim?” You snicker, and Kuroo chuckles at your statement. “A 6/10. She's pretty and she looks nice. But minus points for dating a college student while she was in middle school.”

He proceeds to search for his next ex. “I know her,” you say as soon as you see the picture. “I was the one who planned her wedding a year ago. I believe she gave birth just a month ago.”

“She did. She was my upperclassman in Nekoma when we dated. I think I was in my last year of middle school and she was graduating high school,” Kuroo elaborates and you laugh. “What?”

“You’re also a victim.” With that, Kuroo starts laughing with you. It takes some time before the two of you stop giggling like kids.

“Since I know her, a 7/10. She was really polite when I was planning her wedding,” you explain while panting, recovering from your fit of laughter.

“This is the last one,” Kuroo says as he searches and you look at him in shock, not believing him.

“You only dated thrice?” You ask him and he nods proudly. “But you did have a lot of flings so still a bad boy,” you tease and Kuroo rolls his eyes. He shows you his screen and you look at the girl in the picture intently.

You glance at him and then his ex, and then him again, then back to the screen. “You’re lying.”

“About what?”

“Are you sure you dated her?” You point at woman at the screen.

“Yes. Ask all of my friends. They’re witnesses.”

“You dated a famous idol...”

“Was an idol,” he corrects you. “She’s quitting the industry because she’s pregnant.”

“I love her group’s songs. I give her a 10/10. But I still can’t believe you managed to pull someone like her. Kenma said that you weren’t famous amongst girls in high school...” you state, remembering his best friend’s words when you had dinner together just a few nights ago.

Kuroo simply shrugs, “I guess she really liked me then.” He lays his gadget on your lap, waiting for you to type in. You become nervous. How are you supposed to tell him that you’ve only dated seriously once in your life? And it’s someone he sees quite often in your workplace.

“I only dated once,” you tell him calmly, trying to conceal your shaky fingers as you type. Pressing enter, your eyes immediately look away. “You know him, right? He’s our cake maker at work.”

“How was he as a boyfriend?” Kuroo simply asks and you nod nonchalantly. “He seems like a nice guy whenever I see him at your office.”

“Really sweet. Baked me goods everyday and even brought me lunch boxes,” you reply rather confidently. “We dated back in high school.”

“9/10.” Kuroo rates with a pout. He knew he was going to get jealous, but he still dug his own grave for his. His plan being:

‘To subtly hint that he wants a baby.’

All of his exes now have children, and he is not competing with them at any means, but maybe you’ll get an idea about his baby fever if he shows you that most people at your age have children.

Now that his Plan A has failed, he’ll have to proceed to his Plan B.

Kuroo patiently waits for you at his car, ready for your first date after a long time. As he sings along with the song on the radio, he scrolls through his Instagram and sees Sakusa’s post about her daughter.

“Must be nice to have a kid,” Kuroo sighs. Seconds later, he realizes what he said and puts his phone down. “No. No. No. I can’t feel this way yet. It’s too early. But we’re already in our mid-20s so a kid won’t be weird. No... Does she even want kids? My kids?”

A knock on the car window disrupts his soliloquy. He turns his head to the glass and sees you waving outside. He quickly unlocks the door, allowing you to enter. “Hi, love. Who were you talking to?”

“I was talking to Kenma,” he reasons before he leans in to capture your lips into a greeting kiss. “How was work?”

“It was tiring. The Kitas sent an invitation by the way,” you answer as you pull away from him. “It’s for the triplets’ first birthday.”

“Should we buy their gifts today?” Kuroo asks you, starting the engine of the car. “I think we’ll find something while roaming around. What about you? You said you had to buy something.”

“Bikinis,” you say nonchalantly and don’t see Kuroo’s eyebrow raise from your response.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I forgot to tell you. I’m going to Okinawa with my high school friends next week. You know them, right? Makki, Mattsun, Iwa, and Oikawa,” you respond and Kuroo becomes silent, not knowing how to react. He doesn’t care that you’re going with guys, but how did you forget to tell him something important?

The ride is serene. Kuroo’s hand not leaving your thigh the whole time. Your hand is on top of his, your fingers tracing the protruded veins in his arms. Landing on his ring finger, your eyes scanned the body part. You don’t have a wedding band yet. The two of you have never thought of getting a pair.

The two of you arrive at your destination so get out of the car. Kuroo takes your hand immediately, sliding both of your hands into his jacket’s pocket. You smile at the romantic gesture, something you’re yet to get used to.

“Should we buy your stuff first?” Kuroo questions, looking down at you. Nodding, you lead him to a bikini boutique.

As soon as you enter, Kuroo closes his eyes. The store you entered doesn’t only sell bikinis, but lingerie as well. He has to keep his lids shut or his imagination will go everywhere. Noticing how wary he is about the surrounding, you smirk.

You hook a finger on his collar and pull him down. “Choose anything you’d like to see me in.”

After the not so quick shopping trip at the garment store, you have noticed how fidgety Kuroo is. He wouldn’t stop squeezing your hand and giving you cheeks kisses. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just excited to see you in this,” he reasons, lifting the paper bag with sets of lingerie he has chosen. You hum, your attention going back to the racks of baby clothing in front of you.

While you’re focused on the baby items in front of you, Kuroo is panicking. In his mind, he’s about to explode. You in lingerie + his baby fever= a kink he thought he’ll never have. He’s trying so hard not to think about your mini me’s, but seeing the tiny pieces of garments is making it hard for him.

“My love, the triplets are boys. But knowing the Kitas, they wouldn’t mind dressing up their sons in that dress you’re holding,” you point and Kuroo snaps back to his senses. He looks down and sees that he is holding onto a yellow dress with ribbons and ruffles. He didn’t even know how he got the dress on his hands.

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly, putting the dress back on the rack. “I just thought it was cute.” You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion and he forces out a laugh. “It would look cute on Sakusa’s daughter. The two of us are kind of close.”

“Really? I always see him post about her. She would look very cute in that. Should we buy it?” Your confusion about his actions are thrown away by his reason. He sighs in relief as you look away, the dress now in his cart.

‘Our daughter would look cuter,’ Kuroo thinks and he smacks his cheek, causing you to look at him in shock. It was a rather loud and heavy smack. “Mosquito.”

His Plan B is a fail.

You’re eating lunch together the next day at your office as usual. It’s quiet before he flashes his phone screen in front of you, showing you a picture of three familiar small boys. “Look at the triplets.” You continue to eat after taking a look at the picture, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Kuroo hums happily. “Aren’t they cute?” You only nod to his question.

“Look at Sakusa’s daughter. I met her last time and she’s such a charmer,” Kuroo narrates, letting out a giggle. The interaction replaying in his head. The interaction that caused his sudden baby fever.

It was a busy day at work since the Olympic team had to take their profile and poster pictures. Kuroo was talking to Bokuto when a child suddenly latched onto the spiker’s leg.

“My favorite teammate, you’re here!” Bokuto beamed and picked the child up. As she rested in his forearm, she looked at Kuroo in curiosity. Normally, children would get scared of him, but she wasn’t, which made Kuroo happy.

“Hi. My name’s Kuroo. What’s your name?” Kuroo asked the girl. She smiled at him before answering.

“Kia! Do you have a girlfriend?” Kia asked, taking Kuroo aback. It’s not everyday that a 4 year old would ask you about your relationship status.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have a wife,” Kuroo replied, which made the little pout.

“Since you only have a wife, I can be your girlfriend,” Kia proclaimed. Kuroo smiled at her statement. The girl suddenly made him think what his daughter would be like if he ever gets to have one.

“I’m sorry but my wife would be upset if I have a girlfriend, so I can’t be your boyfriend,” Kuroo explained to her, hoping she’ll learn something from it. You could subtly teach them about what’s right and wrong at a young age.

“Then, I’ll date your child, father-in-law,” Kia claimed which Kuroo patted her head for.

“I’ll remember your words, future daughter-in-law.”

“What are you smiling for?” You ask Kuroo and he looks up to you, his attention now on you.

‘It’s now or never. This is the perfect chance.’ Kuroo thinks, placing his chin on the palm of his hand. “I was just thinking about how cute our children would be.” You ignore his words and proceed to clean up your lunch box. As result, Kuroo frowns. He mirrors your actions, keeping quiet. Maybe it was wrong to mention it.

Your secretary knocks on your door before announcing that your client is already waiting outside. Kuroo put back the chair back to its proper place before walking over behind the table to give you a quick hug. You can feel his sadness radiating off him and you’re sure it’s from your silence.

His baby fever wasn’t unnoticed. In fact, you knew about it the moment you saw him scrolling through baby videos. He wasn’t very subtle about it, too. From showing his exes, to bringing you to the baby store, to sending you pictures of babies, to mentioning children all the time, you definitely knew about his baby fever.

But you don’t want a baby yet. You had just gotten steady recently, and having a child will wreck that steadiness for sure. You want to keep him to yourself as much as you can, and a child will take your time with each other away. Yet, you don’t know how to tell him that, because he’s determined to have one as soon as possible.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll pick you up later,” Kuroo speaks. He plants a kiss on your forehead before turning away. The way he turned his back at you, the way he frowned a little, it broke your heart. So you grab his hand and pull him back towards you. “Yes, my love?”

“Should we start trying for a child?” You look up to him with shaky eyes, and he saddens at your expression. He wraps his arms around you, your head falling onto his abdomen, while his hand pets the back of your head.

“Love, I’m not asking for a child immediately, so don’t get pressured. Just take my baby fever as a promise that I want to start a family with you and only you,” he reassures you, but you know he’s partly lying about it. Kuroo is a man who doesn’t give up until gets what he wants.

Kuroo’s Plan C has failed. He has no choice but to do his Plan D. (Will be posted soon 😉 if you know, you know.)

——————————————————————————

Facts:

Fevers turn on the body's immune system. They help the body fight infection. Normal fevers between 100° and 104° F (37.8° - 40° C) are good for sick children.

Fevers only need to be treated if they cause discomfort. Most fevers don't cause discomfort until they go above 102° or 103° F (39° or 39.5° C).

Most fevers from infection don't go above 103° or 104° F (39.5°- 40° C). They rarely go to 105° or 106° F (40.6° or 41.1° C). While these are "high" fevers, they also are harmless ones.

Fevers that don't come down to normal can be caused by viruses or bacteria. The response to fever medicines tells us nothing about the cause of the infection.

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Taglist: Still can’t tag smh T^T the app keeps crashing every time i tag more than 5 people 😭

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: iii

(Mostly SFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii​​ (epilogue)

word count: ~2.2k

Nothing ever really ends. It just grows in different ways with different parts. 

warnings: description of post-injury, reader and hawks being traumatized but coping, a soft epilogue

the ending folks :’^) thank you for reading this far. here is something gentle for all of us, with some future, past, and the present for sweet starshine and keigo :’^)

enjoy loves 💞!!

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Keigo doesn’t break promises. 

He loves white lies, the silly kind where he can rib you for a minute or two before soothing any ruffled feathers with quick kisses. He never leaves big wounds, nothing gaping or jagged, just loving pokes in your sides to get you to laugh and quip back at him.

He never goes back on his words that count.

His journeys out of the house remain short and rarely surprising. He never leaves without a goodbye, whether that’s a sleepy fuck or two, or a hand-written, tooth-rotting note on a scrap of paper next to a steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen island.

Keigo’s used to the open skies, rolling forever. The curve of the horizon is his primordial friend that he never got to say goodbye to, but he still chases it a few times a week. Little drives he takes by himself, hikes, and things that he let him feel a bit of that free wind in his shaggy hair. 

It takes you a while, but you don’t look forlornly at the door anymore.

The awareness that of his absence from your little bastion lingers as you move throughout your day, but you know he’s good for his word. He always returns, bearing a toothy grin, and usually an armload of snacks or takeout. 

It’s better, and you’re both a bit more alive. 

...

Spring in the mountains reminds you of something you can’t place. 

The memory of it is foggy, far-off and untouched. Probably a bit dampened from, you know, a year of trauma, but the feeling of it makes your quirk burst to light without fail.

It comes when you notice the little patches of wildflowers that spring up in new grass that rings around the porch. Heat flares in your eyes when you see the little seedlings you and Keigo planted into the window boxes begin to bud and flower. 

The days get longer, sweeter, and the summer comes easily.

...

The bad days never cease, but you both learn to cope to some degree.

Your scar... cracks one day. You’re doing some half-assed stretches in the living room (mostly arching your back so Keigo gets a good peek of your ass) when it happens. Your right leg bends at the knee, and a resounding ‘crack’ and shatter echo off the walls of the cabin. 

You both panic. 

Keigo instantly urges you on the couch, trying to soothe your own panic with little coos from the back of his throat. You feel numb as Keigo shoves up your pant leg, looking for any damage.

The scar looks relatively unchanged. It hasn’t writhed since your days at the hospital, and its edges have only faded a shade or two with time. It’s long, obtrusive, and something you still avoid looking at.

All the same, Keigo traces the gnarly flesh, nimble fingers searching for the source of the sound. Any bit of pain he can identify and soothe, ideally, remove. The pads of his fingers drift to the crook of your knee, pressing against the shiny, black seam of the scar.

His eyes go wide before awe shines through, without a lick of fear. 

He warns you to take a deep breath, ‘breath with him’, before pinching at the glassy center and pulling. There’s a bit of resistance as he pulls, you’re not sure what he’s doing, and you see ‘it’ before you really put it together.

Keigo holds ‘it’ up for you to see.

The inky glass of the scar.

Literal rock. Inky obsidian pulled from your flesh, about the size of your pinky and painfully jagged. 

“W-what is that?” You asked, grabbing his wrist to examine the bit. “That’s... the scar?”

Keigo nods his head, scrutinizing it with you, pinching at it, “Weirdest scab I’ve ever seen.”

Scab.

You have never thought about calling the ugly root of the scar a ‘scab’ but looking at the way it so easily was pulled away, it makes sense. After a bit of examination and tender prodding, the tissue around it looks healthy, albeit thick and burned. The scar goes deep into your flesh, feels raw to the touch, but the skin that’s beneath it is somewhat alive. Maybe too alive, given how sensitive it is.

Nonetheless, you marvel at the little piece of volcanic glass that Keigo had pulled from you like it’s the most precious stone in the world. 

...

It takes a long time to convince both of you.

Keigo never receives another call from Suits, ‘president’, what the fuck her name is. Thank fucking god. His snap seemed to have scared her and her crumbling organization away. You can only hope that it was for good.

The potential return comes from kindness rather than demands. 

Calls from both Endeavor and Miruko, ‘Enji’ and ‘Rumi’ as they insist you call them. Rumi chatters on the phone for hours with Keigo every few weeks, puts the phone on speaker, and has you give your piece as well. You like her, she’s funny and loud and Keigo smiles when he talks to her.

Enji actually visits. 

Once or twice, maybe more. You stop counting when the extra bodies in the cabin don’t have you breaking into a cold sweat anymore. It had taken a great bit of coaxing, but you opened your cabin up for the former pro and his entourage. 

He brings along his daughter and the ‘Three Musketeers,’ as the media calls them. The boys train in the mountains nearby, never lingering too far based on the shouting from the blond one that echoes against the hills. 

The rest of you settle into the walls of the cabin whenever they come to visit. It feels warmer than normal; it makes sweat gather under your arms and in droplets on your forehead. Even if you wanted to attribute the heat to the old flame hero’s presence, it wouldn’t account entirely for your thumping heart. 

You work through it, slowly. 

You like watching Keigo and Enji. They both look worn. Keigo’s a bit too young for grey hair, but Enji has more than his fair share around his temples. The beard around his jaw glints silver in the lowlight of the cabin whenever he tilts his head to sip at his tea.

They smile like old friends, talk like it too. 

You end up in the kitchen a lot during their talks, distantly cooking and observing. You’re always listening to their stories, the banter. It’s hard to keep up with, a lingering vestige of Keigo’s old persona that clings to him and his mannerisms.

You don’t mind it, even if it feels foreign.

...

“Can you pass me that honey, dear?” Fuyumi asks, voice sweet and close.

You nod, sliding her the jar across the corner top. She carefully spoons a glob of the thick liquid into the four waiting mugs, humming just under her breath. 

The cabin feels warm, and it’s not just the ambient heat Enji gives off. 

The ‘three musketeers’ plan to camp in the mountainside and ‘rough it’. You couldn’t imagine the freshly-greened hills giving them too much trouble. They bicker, you have found, constantly. Blunt jabs from Enji’s son, met by explosive remarks from the blond one (why is his hero name so long? You can never remember it well.) Consider your growing aversion to loud noise, you like Deku the best. He seems like the peacekeeper (and peacemaker) of the trio and compliments your cooking. What a gem.

The guest room has been polished into an actual guest room. Fuyumi takes it, and Enji, bless his heart, takes the creaky fold-out couch. He doesn’t mind, he tells you, something about enjoying tending to the hearth at night.

Keigo calls the nights where they fill the house ‘sleepovers’, and he adores them.

They’re a bit overwhelming for you if you’re being honest. But Enji is far less intimidating now that you’ve seen him nodding off and slack-faced on your couch. Fuyumi has patience you’ll never fully understand, and babies you a bit, which you don’t welcome but don’t refuse either. 

She does just that, scooping up three mugs after pushing your own toward you. You regather and sit next to Keigo at the kotatsu, slipping your legs under the thick blanket and sagging with the heat. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he presses you into his side, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. It’s an idle action, habitual and welcomed as the conversation flows.

(Something about one of Keigo’s old sidekicks. Another about Endeavor’s agency, still chugging along with him at the helm, albeit not as an active hero. The new hero charts, the new rules established, legislation. Things are getting... safer, a semblance of order being re-established now that much of the League has been apprehended.)

(Things are settling, as horrifying as the change is.) 

The thought of so much makes you sleepy, long-standing exhaustion heavy in your bones. You nod off at some point to the kind, safe voices. 

Keigo coaxes you awake once the conversation dies down.

“Love,” he purrs, rubbing your side, “let’s get up now and get you to bed.”

You follow him, the way he rises and guides you to the bathroom to help you ready for bed. Enji is settling on the couch, tugging a few throws over himself on the futon. You give him a shallow wave with half-lidded eyes, meeting his own.

Eye contact feels hard, but you manage to hold it for a few seconds.

In the bathroom, you pop onto the counter and slowly brush your teeth. Sleep clings to you, and you know it’ll return quickly, but the process of moving and interacting wears you down so easily. Your toothbrush almost slips from your grip.

“Just a little more, and then you can rest, dove,” Keigo urges, reverent as he finishes his own routine in tandem. You watch as he splashes water on his face, wetting the tufts of hair that fall around his face.

The cabin feels warmer. 

You notice it as you enter the bedroom, Keigo already hopping into bed to assemble the ‘nest’ as both affectionately refer to it. The old throw, a few extra soft blankets, and a buttery soft duvet must be arranged just right before he is satisfied. 

 Keigo knows it’s a remnant.

He carries plenty of them, little chunks of him that are old and worn, old and unused. He can shake them, can’t bury them, they just simply are.

The birdish ones are nice, he thinks. He likes that he can preen you. He loves that you can preen him. That you’ll indulge him in that way, running your hands through his overgrown hair. You detangle any knots, soothe the snarls and rub at his neck until he’s liquid in your lap. 

He likes nesting. The cold of the cabin can be almost forgotten in the little nests he makes. The mountains of bedding and pillows that you both can settle in. It’s peaceful, and it's shared, and things are okay. 

It’s all slow, and a bit tedious, things that the remnants of ‘Hawks’ scream and thrash at. But, really? Keigo has no reason to listen to a ghost. He tries not to let himself be haunted. 

He indulges himself for the first time in his life, probably.

As Keigo nestles you into the sheets beside him, he gives you a bit of room to get comfortable. Adjusts your pillows how you like, tangle your legs together in the comfiest way. Your own version of nesting that makes his palms sweat and his words turn to mush.

You settle together, chest to chest, Keigo’s chin hooked over the top of your head. 

“Did you have a good day?” You ask, soft and sleepy.

Keigo nods easily, “I did. Enji doesn’t seem to quite as much of a square as he was a few years ago.”

You snort, muffling a giggle into his chest, “He’s definitely a little bit of a square. But I like him.”

“He offered to host us at the estate if we ever want to go back.”

You swallow, thick and slow, and try to bury yourself deeper in him, “... Do you want to go back?”

“No.” He pauses. “Maybe. Not yet, and not anytime soon. But the offer is on the table. It’s nice to have, even if we don’t take it.”

It’s insurance, somewhere else to tuck yourselves away if the mountains stop favoring you. 

The thought of the future makes your head spin, as it tends to. The scar aches, but maybe it’s a tad duller than it was a few months ago. The pains only last a few moments, only stab so deeply. The place where the little chunk of obsidian fell out doesn’t feel quite as tender. 

You lay your cheek on Keigo’s chest, your breath coming in time with his. 

“‘M tired,” You murmur into his chest. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course, starshine.” He pushes back your hair, clears your forehead to press his lips to the skin, lightly. Little kisses piling up on top of each other. “Get some rest.”

“You too, pretty eyes.”

You both need it. For more than just a day with the folks who stuck around. You and Keigo need more rest than a being can responsibly accumulate during a human life. There are things to be stitched, worn parts of you that need tending to, and burns that’ll need salve until the day you die. It’s not any less than it was in the month’s past.

But it’s easier to manage. 

You snuggle into Keigo’s chest, drifting off to the thought of fresh coffee and crackling heat.

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

thank you for reading!!💞

ko-fi

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

can you do a hc of the bros and would they help mc feel better. like mc is sad and what would the brothers say and do to make them feel better. idk if this has been done so yeah :)

Lol, let's see if I remember what being sick is like, haven't caught a single cold since the start of the year, and thank fuck for that too-

Also, once again, one more time, third time actually, it's hard to focus things on the MC as I try to make it possible for many to put themselves in the story (I know I have written one on MC liking insects but that was very self indulgent lol)

I will change things up a bit on the request, but if it was with my own MC, she would be fairly practicle, checking up on the brothers, giving them water and asking if they wanted food, even keeping company if not contagious. It will look like she is just being considerate but it actually pains her to see them sick, it's just that she is used to expressing herself in acts of service.

.

When Your Seven Demons Get Sick

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Warning: a LOT of uncensored swearing

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Lucifer

We all know this can go two ways: either this piece of shit refuses to acknowledge that he is coughing like a damn nuclear explosion or he responsably takes his work home and refuses to fully rest because he needs to keep and eye on not only his brothers but also on the man child he works under that he somehow has come to fondly call a best friend.

So, yeah, tomato tomato.

His stress is reaching levels higher than celestial realm and he definetelly has been staring at a piece of document for way too long and not making any progress.

You will have to literally german suplex this man into his bed if you want him to get more than 5 seconds of shut eye.

It will take a while for his brain to process that 'oh yeah he can trust you to keep at least 10% of the house intact while he recovers'.

He may be a bit insufferable as he will attempt to work again, but it is a very adorable sight to have him whining, being way too happy at small gestures, and of course, his squishy cheeks as he sleeps soundly.

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Mammon

As long as he is being dramatic about it, you know he will live.

Though he probably won't realize he even is ferverish until someone points it out that his responses are much slower than normal.

Like, it took him one second too long to screech in terror and start running for his life when he spotted Levi's all nighter dying body crawling out of his bedroom!

And oh yes was he delighted to be deprived of his obligation to go to RAD until he got back to his full health.

Until he was not allowed to not do anything but rest for the entire day that is.

Yes he will be restess and willing to do anything just to be allowed to stand on the front porch for five seconds and yes you will end up threatening to tie him to the bed in a non kinky way and yes you will only be half joking.

Just make sure to keep close attention to his levels of drama so that you can spoil him properly when he truly feels bad.

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Leviathan

With him it can also go two ways: either he also doesn't fully realize until someone points it out or he will immediatelly let you a "Oh hell no" the moment he gives out a single cough that feels just a little bit out of the ordinary.

How he will take care of himself, if at all, will depend of the situation.

If there is absolutely nothing to lose from being sick other than the hability to breathe through his nose he would definetelly spent the entire recovering process binge watching slice of life animes while laying confortably on his tub.

If he had plans related to the things he is passionate about though?

I wish you luck because he is definetelly not backing down and will consequently make himself even more sick afterwards.

Although the extremelly satisfied expression we wears even when he can barely laugh without having a coughing fit kind of makes it all worthy in the end.

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Satan

The most chill sick person you will ever encounter and will always make sure to be responsable and nurture himself back to full health.

The catch though?

This big brained idiot definetelly doesn't know how to judge between what is small cold and straight up dying when it's about his own body.

So yes he is the kind of person who will always take some painkillers, drink water, lay on bed and read a book until he falls asleep no matter what the fuck he actually has.

So much for knowledge is power smh.

First off, he deserves to be vibe checked with the thickest medicine book you can find in the cluttered mess he calls a bedroom.

Second off, he is so much more prone to being pissy when he's sick. It's almost funny how fast he goes from :) to >:( in half a second the moment someone who isn't you steps inside his bedroom.

And last but not least, cat videos. No further explanation needed.

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Asmodeus

Oh someone have pity on this poor baby. He took so much care to not get himself sick and has managed to avoid even the worst of pandemies for centuries! So why now?!

He is basically so desperate to recover to the point he actually makes it take longer due to him stressing things out.

And he feels so sticky, he will basically want to take 5 showers per day.

Also his voice is basically gone?? And that just makes him want to s c r e a m ????

Locks himself inside his bedroom and throws a pity party.

Many of his posts on the media are something like "Oh no! I think I got sick? I am feeling a bit under the weather right now so, will you nurse me back to health~? Pretty please~ ❤" while in real life he is pretty much sneezing and coughing at the same time every 5 minutes.

If you bring him consolation sweets he might cry. Both because you're making him happy and because he is definetelly going to have to lose those extra calories later.

As much as he wants to cuddle he doesn't let you too close in case it's contagious and damn if he isn't rocking the pale skin, runny nose and swollen eyes.

He doesn't agree.

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Beelzebub

Big boy is definetelly one of the easiest demons to take care of when sick seeing he will to his most to not feel like a chore to you.

Yes he will lie when he feels unwell so that you don't worry.

And that's when you should vibe check him with a spoon.

Like yes you may be getting out of your way to take care of him but no it's no problem at all because yes you love him a lot and would do anything to see him get better and you know he would to the same if not more for you if switched places.

Happiness is the re ocurring 'aah's as you spoon feed your bed ridden man and watching as he keeps on smiling throughout each bite and eats everything like a good boy.

But you can't tell me he doesn't manage to get drunk on cough syrup though.

He is definetelly not as hungry as usual but damn this cough syrup tastes great.

The results are Beel going on a cursed chain of crypid comments in which he makes sure to whisper them in the strangeat ways you could imagine at the most random times always giving a happy smile once he is done.

He apparently doesn't recall any of it the next day-

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Belphegor

How he reacts to being sick completely depends on who is close enough to hear him whine.

Most of the time, whenever he feels anything out of ordinary, he will immediately text Beel in case this is just one more of their cases of twin-powers.

If he is actually sick though?

He will not stop whining, but then he gives a cute smile when he sees you and even makes a motion closely resembling grabby hands with his fingers as he raises one arm in your direction while saying some shit like "I missed you" when you literally were only gone for exactly 2 minutes to go grab him a cup of water and I think you can understand the power this little of shit has.

Be prepared to roll your eyes so much your eyes will probably start hurting.

The good side though? He is the only brother who listens exactly to what you tell him to do without feeling bad about being a burden. Though it's all because he doesn't wants you to worry about him any further than necessary.