#That's where it GOES it's supposed to BE THERE

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Hello! I don't know if requests are open, I'm sorry, but I have a request 🥹 You can ignore it if you want!

Imagine the reader dyeing her hair, and Logan doesn't really understand the concept, but thinks she looks really pretty, and then she asks him to dye the back part where she can't see 😭❤️‍🩹 just cute and loving

My requests are always open!

Logan always loved your hair. He thought you always had it so pretty, even when you just woke up and it was all over the place. He loved whatever shampoo you used it always made it so soft and smelt sweet. You changed your hair often and it always turned out amazing, Logan just assumed that you went to the salon to get your hair done, he knew that you did your nails at home you said it was too expensive to go out and get them done professionally so you just did it at the house. He hated the smell of the polish, but he did love seeing you having pretty nails, so he put up with it and sometimes he even helped paint your right hand. However, he had just assumed you got your hair done professionally, he never saw you do your hair at the house at it just looked too well done for an amateur.

He has been getting upset with you lately, and he didn't know how to tell you.

He always wanted to be the one who took care of you. He wanted to provide for you, no matter the cost or what it was. He just wanted you to have whatever you wanted in life, but you kept denying his offers to get your hair done. He was about to just make an appointment at some random salon and drive you there for it so you would stop arguing with him over dumb stuff like money.

.

.

He just got off work and was walking into the house, ready to not back down from the fight he knew was coming, but as he was walking into the house, a strong smell overwhelmed his senses. He groaned and scrunched up his nose "the fuck is that smell??"

You nearly jumped out of your skin hearing Logan so soon. "Logan! You weren't supposed to be home for another hour!" You rushed back to the bathroom to try and clean up some of the hair product you've been using and to open the window to air out the room as best as you could.

"What is that smell?" Logan asked again, still not knowing what he was smelling. You cringed slightly and turned to him with the bowl of hair dye in your hands. "I was doing my hair, just a touch-up, but I-I thought you weren't going to be home for a while, so I thought I'd have time to air the house out. I know you're sensitive to smells and just assumed that the dye would be too strong for you."

Logan felt his heart swell slightly, hearing that you took his enhanced smell into consideration. "Do...do you need help?" He asked sort of bashfully. He took the bowl from your hand gently and mixed the dye with the brush. He cringed slightly from the smell, but he was ready to push through it to help you.

"Could you get the back for me? I don't think I got all of it" you turned around and showed him the back of your head and he bit back a laugh when he saw you missed a section of hair.

"Yeah, I got it, baby." he just told himself that he was painting... sort of? He really didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't want to mess up, so he just really lathered the dye on your hair and tried to not get it all over your skin. When he was done, he set the bowl down and tapped your shoulders, "Okay, I think I'm done now what?" You explained that you needed to set a timer and that you'd wash it out after it goes off. He nods and sets the timer for you.

He likes to think he is a patient man after living all of his years, but those 30 minutes felt like 30 years. Once the timer finally went off, he helped you wash your hair and watched as you dried and styled it. He was always excited to see how you ended up doing your hair but this time he was even more excited to see how it turned out and once you showed him how it turned out he couldn't help but feel pride knowing he was the one who helped you.

Taglist:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right? Pt 2

pt 1

"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's voice echoes in Tim's ears as he fiddles with his mask. "Like, when they started posting, I was kinda meh about it? I mean the first few videos they posted were just like. Basic shitty, scrambled audio, and the first clues were just like, real simple. Basic word replacement stuff; mostly vigenères, right? But now it's- they're using everything! The current drop is. It's layers, man. And I think it's intentional."

"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG."

"No I mean, like yeah obviously the clues are intentional, but like. The way the difficulty curve is just increasing. When this started it was so easy, but I don't think it was because they like, didn't know what they were doing or anything. Which, cool yeah that makes sense, you want people to buy in before it gets super hard or whatever, but there are, like all these threads that never went anywhere. And everybody kind of wrote them off as red herrings because they didn't seem to fit into the narrative that we had so far, but I can't stop thinking about them, you know?"

"I mean, they could still be red herrings, couldn't they?"

"Well, technically, yeah, but like. Why? It's one thing to have a dead end that maybe calls back to a previous clue or, like, reaffirms some detail from before but having something completely unconnected seems like a weird choice. Especially when the creator keeps telling us to dig deeper."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tim asks with a laugh.

"No that's the thing!" Bernard's voice goes intense, and Tim momentarily stops putting his mask back together. "Literally every fucking drop those exact words are hidden somewhere in the mess of encryptions, and as things get more complicated, it's showing up more not less. And that together with all the fucking loose details that don't seem to fit in anywhere? I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, bc I think we're missing a lot." Tim kind of forgets, sometimes, how similar he and Bernard are, but the in his boyfriend's voice is one he's intimately familiar with. That combination of obsession and frustration - and obviously it's not really serious because like, it's an internet game, but it doesn't matter what the stakes are, being stuck on a puzzle fucking sucks, and he can't exactly patrol what with his broken ankle, so maybe a fun, no-stakes challenge would be good for him.

"We were planning on hanging out on Friday, so what if you walked me through it from the start, and maybe together we can come up with some answers?"

"Seriously? Dude that would be so awesome! I will teach you everything I know about code breaking!"

"I mean, I do know some things, you know. You think I didn't have a spy phase as a teenager?" Tim smiles at Bernard's responding laughter. It'll be nice, he thinks, to mess with a puzzle where nobody's life is at stake.

[petersnya]

u should do the nsfw alphabet thing with Anakin 👀 👀 👀

Anakin Skywalker NSFW alphabet pt. 1

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

With aftercare Ani is very gentle and tender with you. Like as soon as the both of you come down his gently kissing all over your face as he pulls out of you slowly; caressing your face and telling you how much he loves you and how good you are to him and how you make him feel. He cleans you up and after he makes sure you’re okay (cause that mane can get pretty fuckin carried away with you that’s just how much he can’t control himself when he’s with you). He loves to hold you and lay his head on your bare chest while his arms hold you. Sometimes he’ll fall asleep or he’ll talk to you. This is one of his most valuable times.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

I feel like his loves your tits and so such in them or kiss them gently. When you two are making out “innocently” he’s sneak his hand up your body and grip and grope at them softly but it’s soon gets rougher.

Even though he loves to play with your tits, he loves just as equally to grope your ass and kneed it while he kisses you and your body. He also loves your legs. When he puts one or both over his shoulders he’ll kiss them tenderly; but even when you two aren’t having sex, he’ll just rub your thighs or your legs and caress them with his finger tips.

I slick think he likes to pinch your cheeks too.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a disgusting person)

Ok so I’ve already talked about the taste of it so I’m gonna talk about the place of it. He loves to cum on your ass the most, but when he’s being very… lewd is your tongue. He’ll jerk off while his tip is resting on your tongue as he pumps out load after load.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Anis dirty little secret is that he has a love hate relationship with sneaking around because of the Jedi council and the order, but he more so loves it. Being sneaky and touching you with the force while you are in meetings for senator/princess/Jedi business. He can be across the room from you, staring as he moves his two fingers in a “come here” motion with a dirty smirk on his face; through the force he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly. Anakin enjoys pulling you behind walls and doors and pillars in the temple to kiss you softly/roughly before pulling back and walking away. He love the thought that you have to act as if nothing happened and that you have to come up with lies because you are not supposed to be together.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He’s a tad bit experienced but not really because of the restrictions of the Jedi, but when he’s with you and you two are having sex or doing other things he seems much more experienced to you. I think the only reason why he seems so much more experienced than he really is is because he gets so carried away with you. He just starts doing whatever he feels. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His fav position is missionary cause I feel like he’s a very simple man. He loves to rock his hips into you slowly and getting rougher with each thrust while he is either: a. Propping himself up on his forearm on one and hand either the other holding neck as his lips press to your ear so you can hear every grunt and moan or even whimper — b. Hugging your body as close as possible with his with one hand on your ass pushing it to hit the deepest part of you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Anakin is naturally a very serious person and very emotional. He can be goofy in the right moments with you but during intimacy, he takes it a little bit more seriously. There are times where he might laugh at how you look with cum on your cheeks and your wide eyes looking at him, but he’s laughing out of complete adoration of how cute you look to him like that. He’ll also grin while biting his lip at you as he’s plunging deeply into you at the look on your face. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I think the curtains match to drapes but just a tad bit darker than his natural hair colors which is like a really dirty blonde/brunette. He doesn’t normal shave down there (but he does trim usually) but he does often consider the thought that you try and keep yourself all nice and pretty for him so he feels he should do the same, right? Even though you’ve told him multiple times it doesn’t bother you.

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

Anakin in the moment is always watching your face, wanting to see every single face you make to every thing he does to you. He’ll often catch himself smiling as you shut your eyes tightly as your mouth slack open as silent moans come out. Just as much as he watches your face he watches his cock slip in and out of you in awe.

J= Jack Off (Masturbation head canon)

Okok, so naturally he jacks off alone to the thought of you or the pictures/videos of you on his halo pad that he’s taken during sex or things like that (sometimes it can be a picture of you smiling or off guard and he’ll cum all over your face on the halo pad). But something that he seems to be damn near obsessed with doing is just jerking while looking at your naked ass while you lay on your stomach or your tits when your laying on your back and cumming all over you. He’ll grunt and moan out in a low but loud tone while his brows furrow. Idk I guess he loves to jack off to the real thing instead of a picture.

K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I know for sure he has these two kinks: 1. Dirty talk. Ooohh that man loves him some dirty talk. Every time you make a noise, he’ll say “yeah?” or “shhhh” (even though you better not stop making those pretty noises for him) in a low voice. Really his kink is him doing the dirty talking cause he knows how much you love it. This also kinda plays in with humiliation which only happens when he’s really losing control. 2. Chocking (when I was thinking of this one I couldn’t help but think of the scene on mustafar… sorry.) He doesn’t actually choke you but sometimes he likes to put pressure on your throat and he likes to look of his hand wrapped around it. Sometimes he’ll even use the force to do so just to feel powerful while doing so.

L= Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Anis favorite place is obviously his bed or your bed but sometimes he’ll let you ride him in his star-fighter… plain and simple.

[dekusdante]

Things that annoys me in the Jujutsu Kaisen Fandom

Sorry but this is going to be all over the place.

Am I the only one tired of the same trope being used when it comes to Gojo from JJK? In other words the enemies to lovers trope where the oc or reader is basically Utahime with out the name.

Like we all remember the episode where he gave out what type of person he was into which was a nice girl or something along those lines. I that as writers you have to take creative liberties but why are all the readers in these stories are exactly the same.

They either hate Gojo or is super easily annoyed at him. Jerks but its okay cause for some reason he loves them unconditionally. This is so annoying cause there is no push back from Gojo in these stories. Just him taking back the reader or waiting for them to return his feelings when in actuality he shouldn't.

Another thing that annoys me is why is it always the guy that's simping why can't it ever be the woman being madly in love and trying to win him over?

This enemies to lover trope has completely taken over the Reader x Gojo fandom and its so overused. Now I will admit there are some gems out there, but I just don't even bother reading anything that is enemies to lovers anymore. I'm just tired of reading the same thing over and over again with the same copy and paste formula/reader.

Also why is smut so strong on here. Like don't get me wrong those writers are killing it with the plot aspect but man does all the smut kill me. Like I want more plot these are really good and creative ideas but man the smut kills me lol. Still reading the plot but stop at the smut parts which is usually the end so we gucci.

Hmm, another trope I refuse to read in these are arranged marriage were we are supposed to be upset with the guy who is forced to marry someone they don't want too. Why? Well for starters it always start with the reader being mistreated by the guy for some reason and the reader putting up with it until something happens and the guy falls in love with them and has to gain both their trust and love again.

I can get behind this but they always make the guy so unredeemable in these that it would be crazy if she takes him back. [She always does] Another thing is we are supposed to hate the guy because he wants to remain faithful to the person he was with before the arrange marriage. Like why are we bashing a faithful man?

Another trope I hate is when the guy is always in the wrong. A while ago I read a Gojo x reader fic were reader was mad that Gojo couldn't spend a lot of time with her so she broke up. Okay valid even though I am sure this would have been addressed before or earlier in the relationship but okay. What annoyed me with this story is that she then goes on to get in a relationship with Nanami who then calls Gojo an idiot for losing a woman like her.

I could not believe what I read. Like what the hell did Gojo do? At this point Gege posted about Gojo's life and how the man is booked to the max and I couldn't help but think how distasteful it was to first make it appear as if Nanami would do something like that to Gojo and secondly pretend that they don't have more free time compared to him. Like Nanami even understood why Geto did what he did.

Anyway that's all I got for now. I am not here to argue but I would love to hear about what you think on this. A second opinion is always welcomed and if you have a trope you don't like then I would love to hear it.

Also if you have a story that you would like to promo then please do so in the comments. It is a okay if you want too. No pressure,

[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she’s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[yeonzzzn]

phantom and the opera ; park sunghoon

pairing: phantom!sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 3.9k synopsis: a phantom stalks the opera house you currently sing for. a phantom who has eyes and ears for you and only you. warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex, murder, blood, sunghoon is well a phantom obvi so he’s dead, mentions of death, MINORS DNI!!!

Sunghoon doesn’t remember when he died—just that he did. His only other memory before his death is how he died. 

Sunghoon held his arms behind his back, tangling his fingers together as he slowly walked the halls of the opera house he currently, well, haunts. He stopped right in the doorway leading to behind the stage, staring at the spot where he was murdered. 

The experience of being murdered was definitely a zero out of ten in his book. And his murderer? Got a whopping two stars on Yelp for being the shittest murderer ever. Home guy just walks in through the back door in the middle of switching between sets and shoves a dagger straight through Sunghoon’s side and twists. Sunghoon was the only one behind the stage that was ready for the next scene, warming up his vocal cords for the big range he was about to sing out. It definitely took him by surprise to feel the dagger pierce through his skin and feel literally everything leak out of his body as he bled out on the floor. 

The next he knew he was standing there, looking at his dead body and being confused as fuck as to how he was still on Earth. Weren’t you supposed to go to heaven or hell once you’re passed? Guess not in Sunghoon’s case. 

And ever since then, he has stalked the grand opera house. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed since his murder or if the man was even caught. He doesn’t even know why he was murdered to begin with. Who randomly goes into an opera house and kills one of its cast members? That fucked obviously. And for what? NOTHING! According to the talk of the people who’ve made their way in and out of the building after his death, all his belongings and even money, wallet, keys—literally everything—were still on his person. 

Guess the guy just needed to let go of some pent-up rage and Sunghoon was just the unlucky bastard who was his victim. 

Again, two stars on yelp. 

Guy is an asshole. 

So Sunghoon decided to take it upon himself to be the local opera ghost and stop any future crime from happening. 

Or so he tried. 

Because ya know, he’s a boo and no one can see nor hear him. The most homie can do is throw some objects around. Real spooky shit. 

So Sunghoon gave up and spent however long it’s been to watch free opera shows and silently or even loudly, judge the shows. Because again he’s a ghost, who can stop him? 

You. 

It all began with you. 

One long night at the opera, Sunghoon continued his normal walks around the building. The show ended and everyone was gone—or so he thought. Sunghoon rambled on about the cast and setting and how completely shitty that version of Wicked just was. 

“Wasn’t this an opera house? Since when did this place start doing random ass musicals and plays?” he scrunches his nose, staring down at his black boots. 

“The owners decided to expand. This building is just a theater now.” 

Sunghoon stopped walking and looked up to see you standing at the entrance to the dressing rooms. 

He raised a brow, turning to look behind him and seeing no one. 

“How did you get back here? This place is for cast members and staff only.” You asked.

Sunghoon once again looked behind him and everywhere around him. There’s no way you’re speaking to him, right?

“Will you stop fidgeting and answer my question?” You snapped, resting your hands on your hips as you took him in, seeing the pure confusion on his face. 

“You can see me? And hear me?” he asked, now fidgeting with the seams of his cape. 

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan, “Of course, I can see you!” you motioned your hand in his direction, “Stop beating around the bush and state your business here.” 

Sunghoon dropped his hands at his sides, tilting his head ever so slightly while he looked at you. Watching you watching him. 

You tried to keep your composure and not be distracted by the handsome man in front of you wearing a really old version of the phantom’s suit from The Phantom of The Opera. Where did he even get that outfit? It’s so outdated. 

Sunghoon was speechless. How could he not be? Someone finally took notice of him. A beautiful woman at that. 

“I’ve always been here…” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your mouth to question him more, just to snap it shut as you fully drink him in. Taking in his deep brown eyes and the moles that surround his face. The way his hair parts and slightly falls in his face. It’s that moment you realize who he was. Remembering seeing his photo in the halls of this theater as one of the best actors and opera singers this city has known. And remembering how he was brutally murdered behind the stage many many many years ago. 

You were talking to the ghost of Park Sunghoon. 

“How…what?” 

“That’s what I am asking myself too,” he said with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Guess you might be something special.” 

And ever since then, Sunghoon has been attached to you. The first person to take notice of him in so long. The first person to react to him. To talk back to him. And he means talk back. 

Sassy thing you are towards him. Always critiquing his comments on this new theme of theater, plays, operas, and everything in between. And honestly? He loved it. 

If he wasn’t already in love with you at first sight, he definitely was the moment he first heard you sing. It entranced him. Your acting and your stage presence as a whole set him on fire. His nonbeating heart felt as if it were working again. The way he stalked outside the dressing room that evening, waiting so impatiently for you to step out. 

“YN!” he called out the minute you took a single step out the door. 

You held a finger up to your lips, quickly shushing him. You knew no one else could hear him, but you never wanted to risk it either. Or risk talking to him when others were still in the building. You’d look crazy. Or worse, someone else would notice Sunghoon and realize he haunts this theater. Deep down, in the small few months you have known this phantom, you’ve grown so fond of him, and if he were to just disappear…

Sunghoon quickly snapped his mouth shut, lifting his hand and pointing down the hallway. With a slow nod, you followed behind him until you reached a small room for meetings, closing the door behind you. 

You noticed his body language, and how nervous he seemed to be, “Everything okay?” You asked, leaning your back against the door, “You seemed eager to talk to me.” 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, placing his hands on the back of the chair at the table, gripping it tightly, “I…I just want to tell you how well you did tonight.” 

He’s seen you perform multiple times. But it wasn’t until hearing you sing tonight that really took him over. 

You softly smiled, glancing down to the floor. It was the first time he’s complimented you. Sunghoon has only ever judged every play and would critique all the actors and singers. But never said anything about you. Until just now. 

“Thank you,” you softly whispered, slowly looking back up to see him standing in front of you, eyes searching yours, “Sunghoon?” 

How could he tell you he was crazy about you? How in love he was with you? He wasn’t even sure he could touch you. Yeah, he was able to touch other nonliving objects, but a living thing? 

“Can I try something?” he asked in a low voice, barely lifting his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your palms starting to sweat. You were so sure he could see the nervousness on your face, yet you nodded anyway. 

Sunghoon hovered his hand over your cheek, then slowly cupped your face. He released an exhale and smiled wide, “I never knew how badly I wanted to touch you until just now.” 

Now you were so sure your face was red. Heart dropped down to your stomach, “You’ve been wanting to touch me?” 

He nodded, “Can I try another thing?” You didn’t even answer him, reaching your arms out to fling them around his neck and crashing your lips to his, pulling the phantom against your body, not wanting any distance to be put between you both. 

You also never knew how badly you wanted to touch him until this moment. And it was everything you could have imagined. He might have been a bit cold to the touch, but you swear he still felt warm against you. How was it even possible to touch him? It was a mystery, one you didn’t care about learning. All that mattered was him. 

You don’t even know how long you stood there, pressed against that door with Sunghoon’s tongue down your throat, not that you cared anyway how much time flew by. Sunghoon eventually sent you home, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

Sunghoon lost count of the times he’s touched you now. Lost count of the times he’s pulled you into rooms of the theater. The amount of times he’s pressed you against the walls and roamed his hands up and down your body. He was completely obsessed with you and everything about you. Nothing could get better or ruin this feeling. 

Until something did. 

Not just something. Someone. 

Heeseung. 

A new hotshot actor and singer that was added to the current play due to another one falling ill. 

Sunghoon didn’t like him from the moment he looked at you for longer than a second. 

You noticed a change in Sunghoon’s demeanor. Always wearing a frown and creasing his brows. Eyes always staring off, looking far away. 

Usually during practices, Sunghoon’s eyes were always locked on you as he stood on the balcony. Always giving you smiles. But lately, it’s been nothing but frowns and looks of disgust. 

“YN!” Heeseung called for you, running his hand down your forearm, “Want to help me go over this part?” You kept your eyes locked with Sunghoon, watching how he gripped the railing of the balcony, “YN?” Heeseung said with worry, now pulling your arm towards him and you finally meeting his eyes. 

“What? Yes, sorry. I can help you go over this.” 

Heeseung glanced up to where you were staring, raising a brow. 

It took everything in Sunghoon to not jump from this floor. But what could he do? He can’t just yell at someone who can’t even see him. 

Days passed and the closer Heeseung was getting to you. Always giving you smiles during free moments. Standing way too close to you. Touching you more than Sunghoon’s liking, even though he would prefer Heeseung not fucking touch you at all. 

Sunghoon followed behind you after practice, his hand on your lower back, gripping the ends of your sweatshirt, afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

“You’ve been a bit different, lately.” You said, keeping your eyes straight ahead, eyes being aware of the ones still in the building. 

“Different how?” Sunghoon asked, his fingers gripping your sweatshirt even tighter. 

You shrugged, “It’s like you are here but not.” 

Your words hit Sunghoon hard. It made him realize how distant he had been. How more aware he’s been over another male than you, the love of his life. 

“YN, I’m—“ 

“There you are!” 

Sunghoon tightened his jaw. 

Heeseung jogged down the hall until he stood in front of you, “Heeseung,” you smiled, and it killed Sunghoon, “You were looking for me?” 

“Yes,” He smiled back, flickering his eyes over your shoulder, staring directly at Sunghoon. 

He can’t see me…can he? 

Heeseung flicked his eyes back to you and smiled wider. Yeah he can’t see Sunghoon, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” 

“Say no,” Sunghoon said quickly, fighting every muscle in his body from pulling you towards him. 

Heeseung’s muscles in his jaw twitched and Sunghoon could have sworn he saw his ears perk up too, “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, being the newbie and all.” 

“Oh, of course!” you awkwardly giggled, reaching behind you in a manner of adjusting your clothing but shoving Sunghoon’s grip on it off, “Thank you, that’s nice of you.” 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered, “Please don’t go.” 

It was hard to act as if Sunghoon wasn’t behind you. To not react to his pleas, “You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Heeseung asked, quickly looking at Sunghoon and glancing back at you. 

Did you have a boyfriend? Would whatever you had with Sunghoon count as a relationship? He’s technically dead, was it possible to date a ghost? 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered your name again. 

You decided on saying nothing and just slowly shook your head, “Let’s just go get something to eat! I’m starving.” 

Before Sunghoon could reach out for you, Heeseung had his hand on your lower back, pulling you along. And the smirk Heeseung flashed over his shoulder when you weren’t looking sent a chill down the ghost’s body. 

There was no way Heeseung couldn’t see him. 

“Sunghoon,” you moan his name as he pounded into you. 

He’d be lying if he told you he wasn’t extremely pissed off that you went to dinner with Heeseung last night. Pissed off over the fact he knew Heeseung could see him, hear him, and knew the feeling he had for you and still made it a point to ask you out. How fucking dare he? 

“Hmm, want to act like a slut huh?” Sunghoon breathed in your ear, gripping his fingers deeper into your hips, “Think just because I can’t leave this building means you can fuck around with someone else?” 

You shook your head, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the vanity he had you bent over against, “Hoonie no, you know why I did it.” 

“Hmm, do I?” he bucked into you harder, your jaw falling slack and wet moans escaping your orifice, “Seems like to me you rather be with him.” 

“No no!” you chanted, pressing your face against the cool mirror, “I only want you. I only want you.” 

Sunghoon knew you only wanted him. He could see it written all over your face every single time he saw you. But that didn’t stop the raging jealousy he felt. And the hatred he felt. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, flinging his head back and letting the wet sounds of his cock being buried in your pussy over and over again fill his ears. Sunghoon didn’t think it would even be possible to have sex let alone get his dick hard. But the moment he walked in on you changing after tonight’s practice his desire flooded him. And obviously seeing him get so worked up over you sent you clinging your thighs together. 

“Hoonie,” you breathe his nickname, “Fuck, Sunghoon!” 

“Hmmm, what baby? Tell me what you want huh?” he said slowing down his pace to an undesirable amount, causing you to fuck yourself against him. 

“Please,” you cried. 

“Please, wh-” Before Sunghoon could finish his words, out of the corner of his eye he saw the door creak open, barely being able to see the silhouette of the person on the other side of the fogged-over glass window. 

Sunghoon smirked, picking his pace back up again, making sure he had you screaming and the mirror hitting the wall behind it. 

“Please what, baby?” he growled, “Wanna cum? Is that it?” 

You nodded, “Please let me cum,” 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew, “Tell me you love me,” squeezed your hips, slamming you down even harder on him, “Say how good I fuck you and no other dick can satisfy you, not even Heeseung.” 

You winched at Heeseungs name, piecing together the puzzle of why Sunghoon had been acting so strange. He was jealous. Being protective. Possessive. And you found it so fucking hot. So hot you were spitting the words right back at him. 

“I’m in love with you,” it wasn’t what Sunghoon asked to hear, but you said it anyway, feeling the truth behind it with every syllable, “You fuck me so so so good and no one else can ever satisfy me. Only you, Sunghoon. Never Heeseung.” 

Sunghoon smiled. A smile that was full of love and confirmation that you were his. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he moans, towering over your body as he fucked into you, his hands now gripping the tops of your against the mirror, “Fuckkkkk, baby I need to cum. Cum with me. Fuck.” 

The dressing room was now filled with the sounds of your moans as a mixture of yours and Sunghoon’s cum dripping down your thighs. 

When Sunghoon looked back at the door, it was now closed again. 

Heeseung stood behind the stage, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his neck. It was opening night for the play everyone had been working so hard on. It was in between scenes. You were on stage singing a duet with another cast member beautifully for the crowd. Heeseung couldn’t help but smile. He’s had a crush on you since he laid eyes on you, and you never failed to amaze him. 

His smile slowly faded, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d approach me,” he tilted his head to the side, staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, “Park Sunghoon.” 

Sunghoon smirked, rocking on the heels of his boots and twisting his fingers behind his back, “You know who I am? I’m so touched.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “I knew who you were before I stepped foot into this theater,” Sunghoon raised his brows, urging him to continue, “You’re a big name in this town, such a shame what happened to you,” Heeseung fully faced him now, “Death by a stabbing to the left side of your abdomen, right? Went right through your ribs and punctured your lung.” 

Sunghoon was really starting to loathe this guy. 

“I knew you could also see me, there was no way.” 

Heeseung laughed, “At first I thought you were just following and watching our poor YN, until I realized anytime you looked at her…” his facial expression changed to a mixture of anger and jealousy, “She was looking right back at you.” 

Sunghoon tilted his head, “What? Jealous are we?”

Heeseung shrugged, “Maybe over the fact you got to fuck her.” 

Sunghoon was now getting angrier, “You heard her the other day, no one can satisfy her but me.” 

“Are you so sure?” Heeseung took a step forward, “You aren’t even alive.” 

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, “Fuck off.” 

Another step forward, “I bet I could fuck her so so so good,” another step, “Make her cum multiple times,” another step, “Hit all her sweet spots while I bend her over my bed,” and another, “Have her screaming my name so fucking loud she would forget who you even are.” One final step. 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, “You won’t fucking touch her.” 

Heeseung laughed, throwing his head back as the sound echoed against the walls. He flung his head back up, now narrowing his eyes back at Sunghoon, “At least she’ll be able to actually have a life with me.” 

Sunghoon’s body twitched. Heeseung took one last step. 

And he was right where Sunghoon wanted him. 

Heeseung barely blinked before Sunghoon was now standing in front of him, faces barely inches apart. Blood filled his mouth, hands gripping Sunghoon’s wrists, “You damn bastard.” 

Sunghoon looked down at his work, seeing the beautiful blade pushed into Heeseung. Right between the ribs and puncturing his left lung, “Ain’t so fun, is it?” 

Heeseung’s knees grow weak, barely holding himself up and eventually dropping to the floor. Sunghoon followed him down, pushing the blade deeper into his body. 

Blood spilled out of his mouth, bloody hands now falling to the floor, “You want to know what is so damn funny?” Sunghoon chuckled, glancing around the back of the stage room, “This is the exact same spot I was murdered all that time ago.” 

Heeseung’s eyes widened, “Well, aren’t you one for an aesthetic.” 

Sunghoon leaned closer to his face, “No, I just wanted to kill you. It just happened to be right where I was killed.” 

It was Sunghoon’s turn to laugh, feeling Heeseung’s blood caking his hands. Is this how his killer felt? The adrenaline rush of hearing skin rip apart by a blade. Feeling the blade graze past two ribs. The feeling of his blood staining his hands. 

Oh, the rush. The excitement. Now he knew why people committed such crimes. 

“Huh,” Sunghoon said with realization, “Full circle. Funny shit.” 

“You’re fucking insane!” Heeseung snapped. 

“Shhhh!” Sunghoon pressed a bloodied finger to Heeseung’s lips, “You’re going to miss the finale of YN’s beautiful voice. 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, his vision fading as he focused on your voice. 

“I’m going to fuck that mouth later.” 

Heeseung jolted forward, using what small strength he had to lift his hands to grasp Sunghoon’s sleeve, “You’re a real piece of shit!” 

Sunghoon shrugged, “I’m the only one good enough for her.”

“You aren’t even alive,” Heeseung said again through gritted teeth. 

Sunghoon slowly pushed the blade in deeper, “I don’t give a shit,” he chuckled, “I’m still as alive as can be because of her.” 

Heeseung’s vision faded more, black spots forming around Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

He dropped his head to the floor, right at the moment the final echoes of your singing voice bounced off the walls, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”

“Oh, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cooed with a tilt of his head, “This theater can hold only one fucking bastard.” 

With a final push of the blade in deeper, the color of Heeseung’s eyes faded, body going completely still. 

Sunghoon stood up and backed away from Heeseung’s dead body, taking in his kill. Voices of the cast members appeared from behind him, then screams echoed off the walls. 

“Someone call an ambulance!!!” 

Sunghoon kept his smirk, slowly wiping the dried blood against his pants. 

He slowly turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway. You looked beautiful in the tight-fitted purple dress, hugging your body to show off your curves. So beautiful with the way your hair is curled and pinned to the back of your head. 

Everything about you was beautiful. 

Even the way your eyes filled with tears as you took in your friend's dead body. 

Your eyes shot to your lover, seeing Heeseung’s blood stain his clothing and hands. The tears streamed down your face as you stared so deeply into his eyes. 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew bigger, slowly walking over to you, “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered, cupping your face between his hands. The smell of the blood filled your senses, stomach turned at the very thought of how it would stain your skin. 

Sunghoon killed Heeseung. 

“I did this for us,” he forced you to look at him and away from the dead body, “I couldn’t let him take you away from me.” You let out a small whimper, “Oh, baby,” he shushed, “It’s okay. I’m right here. I love you.” 

You were at a loss for words as Sunghoon pulled you to his body, holding you tightly. 

No one was ever going to take you from him.

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki @star-hoon

[transmasculinizing]

ik people dont see the appeal of letting bruce b anything but white bc "oh hes the product of rich white privilege" or whatever but listen. listen. the way he talks to his kids is so brown parent with undiagnosed autism level communication skills to me

[screechingfromthevoid]

I made an Orym edit instead of writing or sleeping

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: kwon soonyoung

love at first sight (or meet cute au)

'did you hear wedding bells ring? cause that's what i heard when i saw you'

it wasn't supposed to happen. hoshi knew better but he's been sitting at the hotel whole day and boredom clung to his whole body like that stupid fly on the ceiling that refused to budge no matter how many pillows you threw her way. and he knows that it's all for his own safety, knows that fans went ballistic since they learned he landed in this city and he knows that his managers actually want only the best for him. it's just their version of best for him is basically imprisoning him in the hotel and hoshi's version of best for him is letting him roam around the city unguarded. so yes, him walking out of the hotel unsupervised was not supposed to him but oh well, it's too late to think about it now that he's hiding in the very first shop he saw on his way, running away from overly excited fans.

said shop turned out to be a small coffee shop in a ghibli movie characters theme. it's cute, hoshi notes from his position behind the counter. he climbed here the second he entered, quickly realizing that hiding under the tables will not help him. there's no one in the cafe and he has half a mind to call someone from staff when door from his left opens and a person walks in. hoshi instantly shoots up, apologies on his tongue when you finally look up and- oh.

not many things can leave hoshi speechless; he's been in this business for such a long time that it feels like he's seen it all, even some stuff that he wishes he could un-see. he's very used to perfect faces, perfect settings, perfect speeches - he's been trained to know what to say in any situations but right now he's at loss. you are so-

'what the hell you are doing standing behind the counter?!'

-rude. yeah. blinking, he snaps back to reality instead of getting lost in your eyes. it's almost five and sun dances beautifully on your face, it illuminates all your features with an orange glow and he wishes he had a camera with him because whoa.

'i'm gonna call police if you don't step back.' there's slight tremor in your voice but you still try to look confident. 'how did you even-'

'door was open!' hoshia blurts out in his defense, belatedly realizing that this is not a good excuse for hiding behind the counter, where only staff members can go. 'i had to hide, i'm so sorry, but they would've spot me if i chose just take any table.'

your face is very expressive. miriads of emotions change themselves until you settle on confusion. 'hide from who- oh my god, are you a gang member?'

'i-what-' hoshi sputters, looking himself up and down. does he look like a gang member? 'no, i'm- uh, a singer. popular one.'

hoshi is not sure why he added the last bit but it's too late to take it back now. your gaze focuses on his face and he takes this time to study you too. it's hard to pinpoint why, but there's something so interesting and fascinating about you (apart from you generally being really, really pretty). like hoshi could stare at you all day and not get bored, could see you as his muse even.

'okay,' you exhale, looking very done. 'okay. you are a singer. a popular one. hiding from..fans, i presume?' hoshi nods. 'okay. that still doesn't mean that you can stand here.'

hoshi moves like a lightning, quickly jumping to the other side. you're not wearing any badge with a name and he suddenly really needs to know your name. 'sorry again. uh-' he looks around, trying to keep the conversation going. 'can i get one ice americano, please? name is soonyoung, by the way.'

you look... amused. baffled. shocked. hoshi likes how he can pull out so many emotions from you but he is yet to see you smile and that makes him sad. 'okay, soonyoung. one ice americano coming right up, anything else?'

'your name,' hoshi says, beaming, not caring how awfully cheesy that sounded. he goes for a killer: 'i can't keep callling you 'pretty girl' in my mind.'

and there you go, there's your smile. it sets fireworks in his chest and his grin broadens. you look much better with that smile on your face, he decides and proceeds to tell you this loudly as well.

'thank you,' you say, blushing but also laughing.

you don't say your name but laughter is good, hoshi decides. laughter is almost love, no? it can start with a laughter, he is sure. his mind conjures thousands of pick up lines that can you make laugh and maybe, just maybe, if he makes you laugh often enough you'll tell him your name. and then he can get your number and then he can facetime you from whenever and will always be able to look at your pretty face. now that's a solid plan in hoshi's mind and he's never happier for not listening to his managers and running away from the fans because meeting you is worth it ten times over.

a/n: and i finished my 'seventeen members as love tropes' series with hoshi! hope you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[cogcltrcorn]

the thing is: of course the species which both a) goes into territorial mating rage once a decade b) is highly attuned to emotions and thoughts of its peers had to invent a philosophy of logic and self-control. like I imagine pre-surak vulcan clans have been highly bonded to the point where a conflict with one member of the clan would ENSURE that all other members of the clan went into a homicidal rage. because imagine that your rage is not only immediately shared by your peers but also AMPLIFIED because you FEEL it from everyone around you.... like yeah Of Course this society could only survive by inventing Hyper Stoicism

on that point: vulcans' needs during pon farr being less about specifically fucking and more about BONDING. like yes obviously sex is part of it but the reason just jacking off doesn't work is because they need to BOND. they need assurance that their clanmate is Safe and Here and Close. so, I present to you:

- vulcans that get really anxious about food and water before and during pon farr

- vulcans that get frankly weirdly obsessed with smell and scenting

- vulcans during pon farr being jumpy and frankly anxious. when your vulcan partner comes up to you like 'would you consider it logical to consider the possibility of you abandoning our bond if I was to, for some reason, become a worm-like creature. although the possibility of such a thing occurring is vanishingly small, I am nevertheless considering how detrimental to my control and wellbeing it would be. so, would you please share with me your reasoning and supposed response to this hypothetical event' you know damn well they are like 2 days away

- vulcans during pon farr being super into physical contact. when you are not fucking your vulcan partner you Need to cuddle them. or else

[rotthepoet]

Can you do a Draco smut where him and f!reader are getting it on his room and Blaise wakes up to see them about to fuck and he asks to watch. Reader is surprisingly down for it and Draco’s ego is bigger than a fucking elephant so he fucks you in front of Blaise. Not a threesome with Blaise, just him being a perv lmao

BABES IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK A MONTH TO GET OUT!!! I WASNT IGNORING YOU TRUST. I made a few changes to your request because @2dloveshp and I have been talking about Stalker!Blaise and im about to start dropping content for him 😻

Let me set the scene for you. Draco Malfoy, your wonderful, doting, egotistical boyfriend, has decided what he wants right now: is you! So trust he’s dragging you away from your friends, mid conversation, mumbling about how its his turn for attention. But oh shit, when Draco’s dorm is supposed to be empty, you’ll never guess whose there minding his fuckin business nose deep in homework. Draco’s best friend, Blaise, of course.

And gonna be real with you, Blaise doesnt even register when the two of you walk in. It takes a solid minute of Draco pushing you into bed despite your whines about there being company that he snaps back into reality.

Draco doesnt give a shit, lowkey he brags to Blaise all the time about how good you are in bed that he doesnt really care if he sees?? Ngl the Slytherin boys prob have a groupchat where they share nudes because i think theyre all just a bunch of chavs in disguise.

Anyways! Draco is not stopping and god when he’s feeling you up like this? You’re just falling apart. No more complaints as long as draco fucks you soon.

But god the way you moan is so fucking pretty. And blaise can feel himself hardening under the desk, and fuck he’s had a crush on Draco’s girl(you) for so fucking long now.

He cant help but take note on what makes you feel good. His homework becomes a page filled with notes on how you react to each of Dracos touches. How you arch when he suckles a spot on your neck. How you mewl when he pulls your hair. One hand is furiously writing each observation while his other hand palms his boner.

And fuck he nearly chokes when Draco goes down on you, watching the way your pussy glistens with your arousal, the way you keen and beg for more and less at the same time.

He’s fucking obsessed with you. The only problem is Draco, and it shouldn’t be that hard to get rid of him.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

[yuvany]

#BAKING WITH ENHYPEN

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 x female reader ⎯ CONTENT / WARNING(S) :: fluff + est relationship + kisses + not proofread. . . WORD COUNT : 825 . . CHECK BOX .ᐟ

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You invited him over after seeing a video of a couple bake, and I mean, Heeseung ran over to you as quick as he saw your message. He enters your kitchen, where you had partially laid out all the equiptment and ingredients while he made his way over. He is about to start baking immedietly, but you stop him and tell him that he needs to wash his dirty hands first. "But my love, these hands hold the love I have for you." He pleads, holding his hands out dramatically. "Hee, that's disgusting. Wash your hands." You say, pulling him over to the sink.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay suddenly had an innovative idea of a new pastery and urged you to come over and help him, by that he means observe. "babe, what was your idea?" you asked, seeing him rush into the kitchen and prep it while you slowly follow behind him. "I wanted to make a heart shaped version of your favourite." You chuckle, and begin washing your hands and putting on an apron since you know how he is with hygiene. Turns out it wasn't necessary because you became a kitchen princess. Jay did all the baking unless you asked to help, and let you lick all the utensils with dough and batter while you both washed the dishes together.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

"Jake, are you sure you have sugar?" you ask, and he nods. "Of course I do, even if I didn't, you'd suffice!" He winks, but you shrug it off with a chuckle. The first half of the recipe goes well becuase Jake did in fact have sugar in his pantry. Then you see Layla walk into the kitchen and you figure that you could leave him alone for just a moment, but turn out you were proven incorrect. Jake makes a discovery that he doesn't own a scale, and stop baking for a moment before he gives up on the recipe and free-styles. You return and sees that the batter is all clumpy and discoloured. "What did you do, babe." You ask, and see him smiling tensly.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Is very excited becuase he gets to experience what a normal teenage experperience would be like even though he's an adult. Sunghoon looks up many recipes before showing you the one he finds is the more fitting and looks the best, becuase he wants whatever he does to be the best. You nod and give him a kiss on the cheek before handing him an apron. You two stick together and switch roles every time, and while it's your turn to measure the ignredients, you aren't as creful and exact as him. "You need to fill it a bit more." He says, and you say, "It'll be fine, Hoon."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Is sneaky and adds extra of whatever he likes into the bowl whenever you aren't looking. You turned around to look at the recipe on your tablet after already adding the sugar, but Sunoo is fast and adds more to it, his reflexses are quick, and when you turn around, you see him standing there innocently with a smile on his face. You don't realise this until after the batter out of the oven, becuase when you take a bite of it, you can't help but feel like something is off even though you can't put your finger on it. "Is it supposed to taste like this?" You question. " I think it tastes perfect!"

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

At the start, everything was cute and organised, but when Jungwon placed the batter into the oven, he started to get impatient while waiting and got an idea when he looked at his palms that were still covered in flour. A smirk spread across his face and you were unaware of what was going to happen since you were focused on your phone. You feel a tap on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you are met with a handful of flour hitting your face. You wipe it away, and quickly scanned the situation, doing the same as him, turning this into a flour battle. "Come back here!" You called out to Jungwon who was running away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Tells you to sit back and watch him be 'Gordon Ramsay' even though you were the one who told him you wanted to bake for him. Every time you attempt to sneak into the kitchen to do something, he nudges you back out and tells you, "I'm a master, trust and you'll taste my amazing choco cake." Riki looks proud as he puffs out his chest with a smile. "If you say so." You shrug, and let him do what he wants. "y/n, do you know where the flour is?" He asks, and you walk over to a cabinet show him the bucket with flour. "So, am I qualified to be your assistant now?" you tease. "Sure, but I'll still be the one to bake for you." Riki says, kissing your hair.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa

[iloveyanderes]

EVEN MORE YANDERE/SAGAU IDEAS!!!!!!!!!!! WITH A LITTLE LESS YANDERE ON THE SIDE😉 BECAUSE I FORGOT TO INCORPORATE IT BETTER

1.A girl gets isekai’d after a boy she’d bullied had enough and killed her. She woke up in the body of a really kind girl in genshin that everyone is obsessed with, she decided to pretend to be this girl as a means of survival, as these people would most likely kill her if they found out she wasn’t that kind little girl. Along the way She met a boy who ended up being her first true friend, making her realize what she has done and wrong giving her the courage to want to change. Just when she got better leading to the path of redemption the boy was found dead completely crushing any type of kindness in her heart, she realized all the genshin characters had killed him so she vowed to kill them all but not before ruining all of there lives first(I actually attempted to write this a long time ago on wattpad but it never went into fruition, so this might seem familiar)

2.Small sagau idea but it goes like this: girl has golden blood for a completely different reason then the sagau idea, ends up in genshin and everyone mistakes her for the creator and she's freaking out trying to convince everyone she's not the creator

3.Genshin impact x Ichigo from tokyo mew mew reader. With your transformation, cat ears and tail, and the actual ability to turn into a cat everyone is trying to get a reaction out of you(look online and you’ll understand why) I'd imagine yae would take advantage of it with the whole gorou situation as proof. Also there is no way inazuma doesn’t have a bunch of light novels or manga on magical girls

4.Dragon reader vs bird reader. You’ll get no further explanation

5.Sagau idea where instead of the reader being the creator they are a holy saint/saintness who's supposed to represent the creator as their prophet who will feel nothing but utter devotion when they see the creator. However on the day that you prophesied the creator would descend something goes wrong, when you lay your eyes on them the only thing you feel is fear and disgust. It’s immediately prevalent that This is not the creator but a demon, everyone else believes this to be the creator however so you can’t really do anything without the fear of being killed or worse, so you resolve to find the true creator while pretending to still love this demon. Meanwhile the demon is someone who always believed themselves to be better then the creator, they’re jealousy blinded them until it turned into envy where they wanted to be the creator. Quite literally trapping them down in hell when they were supposed to descend and taking their place. Since they want to be the creator that meant they had to be loved by everyone including you-especially you. The saintness meant to serve the creator and adore they’re every movement, so they casted a charm spell that seemed to work on everyone-except for you. It doesn’t matter they’ll do anything to get your love- because it belongs to them not that creator-they deserve that destiny

6. Not a genshin nor sagau thingy but what if a genshin archon reader accidentally falls asleep(can be any element you want but I chosen dendro for this) and wakes up thousands of years later where teyvat has become nothing but an empty shell, eventually you get picked up by the astral express after wandering the empty planet. you adventure all the new worlds, help the trailblazer while ignoring their weirdness, and find a way to mourn all your lost comrades. It’s discovered that elemental energy had mixed and muddled with each other eventually forming into something more murky and hallow which made the Aeons, you discover this when they start to hunt you down as there obsessed with you and the idea that your the last ‘pure’ being in the universe, something they want to obtain.

[factual-fantasy]

27 Asks! Thank you! :}} ✏️

@unpopularartist14

I don't ever number my panels or strive for a specific number- the only limitation I keep in mind is keeping the comic under 30 canvases. But that's only because of Tumblr's stupid new image limit. Before that crapdate I would make a comic with as many canvases/panels as I wanted.

And idk what you mean by overwhelming- I put between 1-6 drawings on one canvas, it just depends on the comic and what i need from that scene :0

Also idk what a comic chapter is- and I don't believe myself to be the best with dialogue 😅 I just slap comics together and keep adjusting it until it feels right..

Sorry, I'm sure these were not helpful answers. I never claimed to be good at explaining how I do things. Plus I'm in a pretty bad headspace so I'm sure that's not helping me..😓

I'm self taught, so its hard to explain how I learned anything or to teach it to others- "I just.. do it." "I just change it until it feels right." "I just draw it. How?.. idk I just.. draw it..?"

I hope you can find another artist to help you. Unless the questions get very specific- I'm afraid I can offer no better answers. <:(

@ayliminum

Ngl, I have no idea when I'm gonna open it again. My server has gotten enough members that if it gets any bigger, I'm gonna need a mod to help me monitor it. But I don't have anyone I trust/feel comfortable enough/know well enough- to add as a mod. And considering how horrible my mental and physical health has been.. I haven't wanted to even deal with it anyways.

Right now my server is manageable at its size. So I just closed it off to new members and put "get a server mod/reopen the server" on the list of millions of things I need to do once I crawl out of this health deteriorating pit.💀

AWWWW!!! WORGI!! COLF!!💞💞

@h31fd3ad

No way XDDD

@cicutagreninja

For Bonnie, he is an animatronic designed to handle small groups at a time and have 1 on 1 interactions. But in the case where Freddy is decommissioned, he takes Freddy's place as the star. So he constantly has huge crowds swarming all around him..

As a result, Bonnie is basically constantly overwhelmed. And any second that he has to himself, he just goes completely stone faced and quiet. Kind of to mentally take a break and recharge from all the interactions..

As for Foxy, he always looks so solemn in that AU because his heart just aches for his friends.. He misses Chica and Freddy.. He can see how horrible Bonnie, Roxy and Monty are feeling.. he wishes he could help them all.. but there's nothing he can do...

@neo-metalscottic

AAAAAA Thank you! :DDD I wonder how long it'll take me to get to 30K.. 🤔

Also as for terraria- I haven't fought any of the bosses on my own and I'm sure I haven't seen all the biomes 💀 But so far I like the jungle biome and the wall of flesh is a cool concept :00

I'm glad to hear you've liked my Octonauts stuff! :)) As for what attacked Calico Jack, it was supposed to be a sea monster that could be mistaken for a gator :0

I also had no back story in mind for how he got the scar on his eye <:0 and idk if he'd be willing to share the story.. it depends on how he got it! <:/

Aww.. poor Emmet.. man. I am not looking forward to experiencing that myself.

@holly-opal

I've seen the movie trailer for it! Beyond that I know nothing about it <:0

@sussyhahag

Its more of a reverse egg yolk, but I see what you mean! XDD

@captain-skyler1987

My week has been rough.😔funny picture though XD

(Referencing this post)

WAHGG THANK YOU!! :DDD

Also thankfully no- if Wally ever got close to being that tired he'd sit down somewhere. Maybe even accidentally take a nap-

@pink088

Idk if its supposed to hurt after the initial piercing- make sure you're taking care of the holes! <:0

(Referencing this post)

AAAA YES ITS EXCITING AND A LITTLE STRESSFUL! XDD

@ask-observer-ron

@cat7890

I haven't been feeling well, my health it pretty bad.. but thank you! I'm glad to hear you like my artwork! :)))

@beryl-shade

I haven't seen it, is it good? :0 Perhaps I should watch 8-Bitryans video on it..🤔

@birodactyloftheblog

WAAHHGHGH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :DDD

Maybe someday! :00

@enbydemirainbowbigfoot

No need to apologize! I take it as a big compliment! Thank you! :)))

@wolfie-777

Aw! Cute wolf! :)

Ugh.. that's always such a shame to hear.. but hey thanks for telling me 👍

@antikittysocial

Aw,, that's so sad.. <:( poor Shellington..

@briandraws

My head is more of a liquid. If you took a hair dryer to it I'd go splat XDD

I imagine the mama Emboar got pregnant and then the father dipped. Just like real boar fathers do 💀

I've never heard of it.. is that a show about the Daycare attendant..? :0

I do not know what that is.. sorry! <:(

(Referencing this post)

<XD It was certainly a show. I should go back and watch the whole thing in order sometime-