#hence why its getting worse and worse

[mcyt]

i had a long winding post i was going to make that was semi-related to that last rb because it was a point i tried (and i feel like i kind of failed in getting across clearly) to make in my own post irt the cat poll and hermitblrs general attitude but i'm not really sure how to phrase it and i don't think there's anything i could say that a) provides some kind of solution or b) aren't points already made by other people. maybe i'll try to later

[strixhaven]

other people’s fantasy settings and maps being kind of nonsense and completely divorced from how things like climate, mineral deposits, and trade routes would work in a grounded, semi-realistic context doesn’t bother me all that much. not my own stuff though i need to build a world from plate tectonics up or it Will drive me absolutely bonkers

[imperiuswrecked]

Me: Hi, I’m not feeling great. I need to find a doctor and make an appointment.  Office 1: Sorry we aren’t accepting new patients Office 2: We have an opening in august Office 3: We have an opening in december Office 4: We have an opening in september Office 5: We only do X type of medicine Office 6: RoboPhone: Please go online to make an appointment Office 7: RoboPhone: No one is able to answer your call Office 8: we have an opening next week. me, a desperate creature: I WILL TAKE IT. thanks. 

[lottieurl]

not to be mean but the hubris of too many followers results in this:

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Rejected soulmate au but I made it worse instead of better

Danny, instead of just leaving, instead snaps and commits a series of murders as Phantom, rampaging across the city. His first victims were his parents who he mauled to death, then Vlad, then his so called "friends". Once he came out of the green rage induced fog he realized what he had done and sobbed somewhere in the woods around Amity.

He knew that the GIW would arrive soon, and well, he's already in this deep and he can't just let a government agency that hell bent on genocide and conquering/expirementing on the entities of an entire dimension do as they please so he takes his hanger out on them as he's always wanted.

Hes so glad Jazz is away for collage. She's safe from them. Safe from him.

Its a wonder Clockwork didn't try to talk to him. He probably knew it wouldn't do any good, and Danny is technically of the living and Clockwork isn't allowed to harm the living or control them, only influence them into taking different paths. Hence why he did the time freeze/rewind fiasco when Danny attacked him at the clock tower when he was 14. He wasn't allowed to actually fight him and honestly at that point Clockwork didn't need to. But now Danny had that time medallion in his chest courtesy of his alternate evil future self and Clockwork couldn't do anything.

Danny was 16 and far too powerful for the master of time to take on.

Danny demolishes the GIW like he was playing Doomed on the easiest setting. It was laughable how quickly they went down and Danny found himself enjoying it.

He always had to tamp down that feeling. That vicious glee he got whenever he took vengeance on someone who wronged him. It had always been a thought in the back of his mind that he may have been inherently evil at heart and that he would turn to the dark side eventually.

He wouldn't be like the fusion of himself and Vlad though. That was just a mildless monster destroying everything in its path. What was even the point of that? For all the darkness in his heart, he couldn't see that as anything other that sheer stupidity. He assumed it was Vlads half. The only thing the creep was ever good at was dragging everyone around him down.

Danny packs up and activates the Fenton houses Baba Yaga Protocal, causing his childhood home to grow legs and literally walk away. He eventually managed to find all of Vlads secret labs and treasure stashes, raiding all of them and stripping them of everything they had to offer.

Then he went to find his soulmates dimension in the comfort and convenience of a newer and crazier version of howls moving castle. He had no plans on harming them per say, but he wanted to know why. Why reject a soulmate you hadn't even met before? A person who either platonically or romantically is your perfect match and can understand you better than anyone.

Danny himself suffered immensely throughout his childhood. His parents mental and emotion manipulation and neglect had left Danny longing for thier praise and attention but also left him feeling hollow and confused. Being the children of Evil mad scientists made it difficult to be friends with anyone. Even if the kids weren't weirded out by them, the parents of those kids would tell them that they weren't allowed to play with him or Jazz in fear for thier safety.

Rumors about the Fenton parents experimenting on thier children eventually reached thier ears. That was when he realized that other parents didn't give them twice daily injections of ectoplasm into thier bloodstream.

Im lazy but heres more:

1. Danny as a kid 9-12 realized that Sam and Tucker were crappy friends. Sam often tried to chase away any other girls that tried to talk to Danny for any reason (she was getting better) and often was controlling or patronizing to him while using her parents wealth to get what she wanted. Whether she realized it or not, she was actually a lot like them.

Tucker, Danny decided, secretly hated him and had straight up admitted before that he only became friends with Danny to steal the cool tech from his parents lab, which Danny had allowed and risked getting hurt by his parents to make his friend happy. Tucker was always jealous of Danny, stating that Tuckers own life was plain and boring while Dannys was like the protagonist of an anime. Tucker was quiet about it, but Danny saw how much the other boy enjoyed seeing him fail.

He tried to hang out with his big sister more, cause she could understand and she loved him, right? He was standing outside her door again with his favorite ball (it had the constellation Pegasus on it!) and raised his hand to knock on her door when he heard her groan loudly.

He knew he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop but he put his ear to the door anyway. Curiosity had always been his greatest weakness. On the other side she was talking on the phone. To who he had no idea cause Jazz didn't have friends, but she was complaining about mom and dad and...him. she told her phone friend that she loved him, but only out of obligation. She was his sister and she had to care about him, even if she didn't want to.

Danny didn't understand. She had just said she loved him so why did his heart hurt so much?

He went back to playing with Sam and Tucker. They were what he had, even if he didn't like them, he could lie to himself and tell himself that he did. Just like with mommy and daddy.

If he keeps telling himself that he loves them than he will. If he keeps telling himself that they love him then they will.

Dannys always been good at lying to himself.

Still, the soulmark on his arm remained. It was a vague promise of a light at the end of the tunnel. A dream that someone would show him what real love was like and they would sweep him off his feet and take him far far away from this place.

So why...

2. Phantom doesn't make a name for himself in this new dimension right away. Yeah he had all this treasure he stole from Vlad but treasure isn't money and he had no idea if money from his dimension would even be valid what with all the protections the us had on thier bills to make it difficult for people to make fakes.

Selling gold bars and the like was easier said than done, especially if you actually wanted a fair price for it, and he'd rather have a hoard stashed away for his later plans to more easily take shape.

3. Phantom was an excellent thief, even without his powers, but hes in too early to be arrogant and this world was filled with super-powered villians and heros alike, all trying to make a name for themselves.

He refused to be anyones stepping stool to something greater. Not anymore.

Danny was as cunning as he was skilled. He disguised himself in seedy bars, talking up whatever heist he had made recently, saying whatever thief had pulled that off must have been the greatest, sometimes he ever went dressed as a swooning girl for the extra oomph.

It usually worked and some meat head would take credit for his crimes. Word would sometimes conveniently make its way to the cops and if Danny was really lucky the poor sucker would actually go down for his crimes.

All to muddy the waters. Its harder to connect all these crimes to him when half of them have convictions and the other half have nothing linking them together <3

4. Danny needed minions but he didn't want to tell them anything. He wasn't in the position to start recruiting younger supervillians into his army yet. That was much later in the plan.

No, he needed a mercenary. One who didn't ask questions.

Mr. Deathstroke came with great recommendations and had a great track record for getting whatever contract he had completed and he had a vendetta of some sort against the Teen Titans and Young Justice.

Yeah, he was a bit fruitloopy but he seemed perfect for the job he had in mind.

Danny would keep Deathstroke at a distance of course. He was a mercenary, a hired gun, not his friend. Some one else could easily hire him to get information about Phantom or worse, hire him to attack or capture Phantom.

No the only thing tall, dark and scary was getting from him was the money owed to him in the contract. Money he now had plenty of.

5. Danny never really considered that he would have to compete with other thieves.

He had made sure to steer clear of places like Gotham and Metropolis because of the heros there who always stopped thieves and revealed their identities. Danny didn't need that, no thank you.

But as he was doing one of his heists, the third one this month and the one he planned on sticking the blame onto another poor sap-freaking Catwoman ran into the room with a sphinx carved of some precious stone and Batman not far behind.

Batman locked eyes with him for only a moment, cowl meeting domino for a split second, and Phantom knew he had been found out. This wasn't Gotham. He had no idea how they had gotten here or when but Danny wasn't naive enough to think the worlds greatest detective wouldn't be on his tail after he saw Phantoms arms drapped in the "priceless artifacts" from the India section.

They very much had a price. His buyer had paid a hefty chunk in advance.

Catwoman, who Danny had silently sworn vengeance against, kicked Batman away from her mid brawl and launching him in the direction Phanton was escaping.

Crud. It was time to fight and he was so not happy about it. Danny did manage to get away with the use of his electric powers. Turns out leaving the lower half of your face exposed is a bad idea, especially if your opponent knows Thunder Punch.

He used an EMP pulse as he ran to fry any cameras and Batmans equipment before heading down the hallway and through a few walls. He turned invisible once he was far enough away and flew off into the night with his prize.

This buyer better not backstabbing him. He's in no mood to play nice tonight.

[cuubism]

At first Hob isn't even sure the shop is open. The tiny door inset above a few steps, the utter lack of welcoming signage, the windows packed with unlabelled stacks of books--it doesn't exactly scream come in and buy something. As Hob steps up to the door, he really expects it to be locked, or for a sign to fall from the ceiling reading, abandon all hope here, mortal.

But the door to the bookshop--the name of which he's yet to determine, again with the utter lack of signage thing--just swings open at his touch, and he steps into a narrow hallway made entirely of--of course!--books.

Dust rises from the rug as he carefully makes his way deeper into the meandering corridors. The lightbulbs overhead are dim and in desperate need of replacement. The stacks are teetering and untouched. If he learned the place had been sitting here on this winding side street, exactly the same, for the past seven hundred years, he wouldn't be at all surprised.

And now Hob's marring its mysterious mausoleum aura by opening a jaunty modern coffee shop across the street.

Whoops.

Hence why he's bringing a peace offering before he accidentally starts a war over noise or crowds or god knows what else. Most places would probably be happy about increased foot traffic, but that's not the sense he's getting here.

This is all, of course, assuming he does find an owner, and not just a skeleton manning a till somewhere in this place long gone dark.

Hob doesn't find any customers. He does find several interesting-looking side hallways labelled things like, ~ the occult ~ , Oneiromancy, and "falconry -- advanced" and has to drag himself back into focus because the only thing worse than starting a turf war with a mysterious bookstore owner on his cafe's opening day is accidentally spilling the coffee he's brought--as a peace offering!--all over some ancient magical text.

"Hello?" he calls, finally giving up on the creeping about. "Anyone there?"

No answer. All Hob finds is a rickety set of stairs leading up the next level. So he ascends.

At the top is an even more cluttered room of books. This time in disorganized, unlabelled stacks on every surface. Waiting to be shelved, maybe? And in the center of it all, sitting cross-legged on the floor with several of these books spread out in a confusing array before him, is who Hob can only presume to be the owner.

An owner who is not dead, nor ancient and decrepit as Hob had kind of been picturing. Definitely not decrepit at all. Oohhhh dear.

The lithe, dark-haired, fey thing that is the owner tapes a note inside another book and says, in a distracted tone, "Can I help you?"

"Uh," says Hob, because he came here on a mission but he's gotten really turned around, "do you drink coffee?"

This gets him a raised eyebrow, but the shop owner does turn to look at him, staring up from his position on the floor. Christ he's pretty, spectacles and all. If there is a battle over street noise levels, Hob's going to lose by dint of caving automatically to those eyes. Pathetic.

The bookstore owner looks at the coffee in Hob's hand, then back at Hob's face. "Why?"

Hob thrusts the cup in his direction. "Here."

The owner looks alarmed now, but takes the cup, gingerly, peering at it as if he thinks Hob might have given him pureed nightshade instead. "Why?" he repeats, and then, because apparently his level of self-preservation doesn't extend to things like not drinking random shit thrust at him by strangers, takes a sip, and hums in appreciation.

"I-- fuck, sorry--" Hob sits down on the floor, which only makes him look more like a maniac to be honest-- "I just-- I just opened across the street? The cafe? So I just wanted to say hi and-- holy shit, is your name actually Dream? Were you a stripper in another life or something?"

This because he's finally spotted a tiny nametag pin on the bookstore owner's cardigan-- a cat curled around a book where the cover reads, I am Dream.

"Yes," says Dream, and Hob has no idea if that's in response to the first question, the second, or both. Both is terrifying to think about. As is the fact that Hob even asked that. "The cafe, you said?"

"Mmhmm," Hob agrees, cheeks burning. Oh, he's making a right mess of this, all right.

"Hmm," says Dream, peering at him over the coffee cup. This indicates nothing to Hob about how he feels about the cafe situation.

"I just worried that more noise and stuff might bother you," Hob rushes to explain. "You seem. To. You know. Like your quiet. Is all."

"It is my understanding that cafes and bookstores frequently have symbiotic relationships," says Dream evenly, though he's still watching Hob with unnerving intensity.

Well. That was easy. Maybe Hob was just worrying over nothing. Wanting to be liked when it wouldn't have been an issue.

"Alright," he says, letting out a breath. "Well. Good!"

"Good," echoes Dream, with a tiny, wry smile.

"What is this place anyway? I've seen no signage whatsoever."

"It's called The Library," Dream says.

Hob waits for him to explain. He doesn't. "Um, but... isn't it a shop?"

Dream raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "And?"

"So..." Hob says, "it's not a library."

"Purchasing something is but extended borrowing from the universe," says Dream, like that makes any sense at all.

But Hob decides there's other things he'd rather do with a pretty goth bookstore/library/whatever owner than argue semantics. "What do you carry, then?"

Now Dream preens like a cat. "The Library contains every book in print."

Now it's Hob's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That seems... unlikely? Impossible?"

Dream's self-satisfied little smile doesn't fade. "You are welcome to browse the stacks and let me know if there is anything you cannot find."

And, well, it's true that Hob didn't really get a sense of just how far back this place goes. It looks small from the street, but he's already wandered pretty far in just to find Dream, and has yet to reach a back wall.

"I will definitely have to come back," he agrees. And get lost. Definitely get lost. He's not even sure he can find his way out. He'll probably get swallowed up in Oneiromancy.

"In return I will be sure to visit your cafe," says Dream. He says it so strangely, like crossing into a foreign land. I will be sure to visit your court. "Are you open late?"

"On Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, yup," says Hob.

"Excellent." Dream inclines his head imperiously to Hob. "Thank you. For the coffee."

Hob figures he should let him get back to his labeling. He has plenty of his own work, too.

"Yeah, sure, any time. Good to meet you, Dream."

And then he scurries away before he can make it any weirder, makes his meandering way out of "The Library," and doesn't get lost in Oneiromancy.

This time.

--

The following night, Hob looks up from the till to find Dream standing across the counter from him. He looks much the same as before, with the addition of a long dark coat over his clothes, and no reading glasses this time. He offers Hob a tiny smile. "Hob Gadling."

Gosh, he looks, if possible, even prettier in the warm lighting of the cafe than in the darkness of his shop. Though to be honest, Hob had half-convinced himself he'd hallucinated Dream's existence. He hasn't seen anyone go in or out of the shop since.

"Dream," he greets, with a smile. "Anything I can get for you?"

"It is I who have something for you." He hands Hob what must be a book, though it's wrapped in brown paper. "Consider it a return gift. Or perhaps. A welcome."

And before Hob can even ask if he wants coffee or something, if he wants to sit down, he slips back out through the crowd and onto the street like a vapor, and then he's gone.

Hob tears open the paper. And then stares at the book in astonishment.

It's the book. Everyone has one. The book once read but since forgotten in the shuffle of time; title, author, too vague in recollection to pin down. Unsearchable. Never found, for all that the heart of the story might have lodged its way in somewhere deep.

It's one of those books that he remembers in blistering detail now that it's in his hands, that he read in uni but couldn't have found for the life of him on his own, and Dream's just handed it to him over the counter of his cafe.

He runs his fingertip over the midnight blue cover, the embossed lettering. In Search of Nightingales. And it's only as he looks up again at the hidden shop across the street, that he realizes he never told Dream his name, either.

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) Ashley, self-esteem, and starvation

So, I adore Ashley. She's this intensely toxic, vicious, cruel, manipulative girl, and her psychology gives me hella brainworms. Andrew's not the only one whose head I wanna crack open and root around lol. She's thrown away the world just to keep her brother by her side, and she'll continue to do worse and worse for the same reason. She's pretty awful! I've been thinking about why, though. How did things get so bad? How did her soul get so dark?

We don't know everything (I'm waiting for those new eps patiently aND CLAWING AT THE WALLS AND FROTHING AT THE MOUTH but whatevs y'know whatevs I'm normal. I'm fine), yet what information we have been given is bumping around my brain like a DVD screensaver on hyperdrive

It's clear from the start that the roots of Ashley's issues lie in her horrible, neglectful upbringing, but it's hinted that even those outside of her family felt the same abt her. I'm lowkey even betting we'll learn later on that she was ostracized by her peers somehow. However, what's most disconcerting, I believe, is how little she was when the results of this alienation are first made apparent to us (bc kids aren't dumb; they notice this stuff oftentimes instinctively, impossibly young, before they even know what it means to be hated), and how devastating the consequences were.

(There's something decidedly childish abt her dream sequence in the "questionable" route—filled with crayon scribbles and rabbit plushies, the metaphors simplistic yet profound—which really hammers in how these sentiments are things that have made a home in her since childhood. Formative subconscious truths.)

Growing up unloved and noticeably unwanted by virtually everyone around her likely left her with a gaping hole in her heart that she'd spend the rest of her life trying to fill. She'd make friends, but she'd always worry that they'd leave her, that they'd betray her, nothing tangible or weighted enough in their connection to trust in its persistence. Why should she expect otherwise? Not even being bound by familial ties ensures affection if her parents are any indication.

Every lesson she'd ever learned had always taught her this: you are easy to abandon. You cannot love and be loved by virtue of your own worth.

You have to rip their affection from their clenched hands if you want it so bad.

This understanding carries with it an undercurrent of degradation, instilling within Ashley a constant, biting inferiority complex which will never fail to be a source of insecurity. She will always be put last. She was difficult to raise, so her parents gave up on raising her. She was difficult to get along with, so her friends gave up on getting along with her.

It's an odd cycle. She's difficult bc she needs to be to get attention, but bc she's difficult, she can't keep it. Not without having whatever fondness she's managed to cultivate within someone fray at the seams, volatile and prone to collapse, bleeding toxicity.

Hence, her relationship w/Andrew.

By being the only reliable constant in her life, caring for her and keeping her company, Andrew essentially became her only source of happiness, and she's since learned not to bother with anyone else. Still, it's dangerous to keep all your eggs in one basket; since he is all she has, she must protect her place in his life with even greater ferocity, which becomes a torturous ordeal when coupled with her damaged self-esteem.

It's apparent in her quarrels with Andrew that she needs constant reassurance that she is wanted in some capacity or perceived in some positive light (getting pouty when Andrew says he's "stuck with her", needing to hear that she's pretty, needing him to "choose her", wanting him to say he loves her back, etc. etc.), yet her insecurity remains, bc unlike her, he's got options. She doesn't think he needs her like she needs him. He's got a gf, their parents love him, her friends love him. Why would he settle for her? What if someone better comes along? Someone she can't scare away?

Wouldn't he just leave her like everyone else?

Even before getting locked in the coffin of their apartment, starvation's been a constant theme in Ashley's life. She's constantly aching for love, and Andrew's the only one who can feed her. When you're forced to fight for a bite to eat or suffer every moment you hunger, you become ravenous—covetous—when faced with food; you don't want the hunger to return, so you lock down the source of your sustenance, wary of its retreat. Ashley's in a permanent state of intense insecurity, always anxious that the love that gives her life will leave her.

Andrew knows Ashley better than anyone else in the world, and it's obvs to everyone and him how desperate Ashley is for him, but I don’t think Andrew has truly, consciously processed the depth of that desperation. It's there buried in his head somewhere no doubt, but rn, he doesn't operate w/the direct awareness that he is everything. He is brother, mother, friend, and soulmate. He is life and love, air and water, everything that is good in the world—everything that there is to justify existence.

It's heartbreaking, in a way, that it's so difficult for Andrew to convince her of his loyalty. This goes further than his tendency to hide his true feelings, bc when push comes to shove, he's at her beck and call. Objectively, he's hers. She doesn't see that bc all she sees is all the ways she can lose him.

So, she gets bratty. She gets pushy, possessive, territorial. Manipulative. Gets under his skin, guilts him to exhaustion, bc she can't see him staying any other way, bc he doesn't get it, bc it works. He bends to her will, for her sake. For now. It's always "for now", bc he'll start slipping away again, and then it'll get worse. She does worse.

Becomes worse.

[hyuckiefluff]

Hey so I hv request! Really love the way you write♡ ok so mark is on adrenaline high frm the concert and is really touch starved and really just wants to fuck his gf! Established realtionship y/n and Mark, feel free to add your magic, thank you!!!

a/n: thank u for the nice words and for sending in this req!! this is exactly what i needed to get back into the mood cuz i’ve (once again) been neglecting my writing lol but anyway when i read this the first thing i thought of was quiet down hence the pic :)

ps: requests are still open btw (still got a lot of them to go through but feel free to send in more) i usually do them in order of which one inspires me the most so even if you send rn i might get to it first!

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

content warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, slight choking, brief mention of blood, mark is sex starved so he goes a bit crazy, ass groping, handjob (m. receiving), cum eating yeah ik ik i keep writing this but i can’t stop sawry, big c0ck mark!! barely any prep or aftercare (they don’t have time!!!) basically just a messy & needy quickie backstage.

masterlist

Mark was losing his mind. 

Why?

All because you placed him on a week-long sex ban in an attempt to prepare him for the upcoming tour. He knew you were just trying to help him adjust to being away from you, but it felt like torture.

Everything was fine at first, or at least Mark was doing a great job pretending. But as the first week neared its end, his resolve started to crumble. Today, in particular, he was extremely horny for no reason.

...Well, he actually did have a reason and it was the picture you sent him this morning, wearing the new underwear he had gifted you  'They fit perfectly, Markie ;)'.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you showed up to his show wearing his favorite skirt—the very one you knew he always fucked you in. He wasn't sure if he was just thinking with his dick, but it felt like you were trying to push him to his limit.

Either way, it was definitely working, because when you leaned in for a kiss, he caught a glimpse of your underwear in the mirror's reflection and and he had to fight against every part of himself to not moan right then.

To make matters worse, you were still wearing the black lace panties he had gifted you.

By the time he stepped on stage, he was already painfully hard. What kind of pervert gets turned on in front of an audience just because his girlfriend accidentally flashed him? Well, apparently, Mark Lee did.

But he didn't care about looking like a desperate, sex-starved fool. 

So as soon as the VCR started playing and they had to change outfits, he made a beeline for you backstage. Ignoring the protests of staff and confused band members telling him he only had 10 minutes to get ready he grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowd.

“That’s more than enough time,” he muttered under his breath. Despite your persistent attempts to ask where he was taking you, Mark didn’t stop until you were hidden away in a dark, secluded corner behind the stage.

"Mark, what's going on? Are you okay?" You inspected him with concern in your eyes, checking for any injuries.

"Ah...fuck... I have a really big problem," he groaned.

"What's wrong?" But you quickly understood the issue when he pulled up his shirt, revealing the growing bulge in his pants.

You tried not to laugh, but the way he looked like a child in need of help was too endearing. "Aw, did I do this to you?"

"It's not funny," he protested, suddenly invading your personal space. "I need you to fix it." His forehead pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your sides and gripping your hips to press you firmly against his body, your lower abdomen coming in contact with his hard on.

"Of course, baby" you replied, ready to kneel down, but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. You looked at him confused, and the stage lights cast an angle that highlighted his pleading eyes. They were glossy with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he murmured, his voice strained and raspy.

The idea of having backstage sex at his concert with just about seven minutes left before he had to return to the stage felt crazy. But there was something about it that turned you on beyond explanation.

So, you cupped his face and kissed him hard enough that your teeth clashed with his lips, but not even the slight taste of blood stopped you from devouring each other’s mouth. Mark quickly matched your intensity, his tongue wasting no time exploring every corner of your mouth. Every time he nibbled on your lips, it elicited little gasps from you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, pressing you firmly against his bulge, a clear reminder that he was about to explode down there.

You started to undo his pants, the friction of his erection against the fabric made him suck in air through his teeth. He broke away from your lips, allowing you to pull down his pants. His boxers were already stained with pre-cum, and when you lowered them, his dick looked at you flushed and angry. You bit your lip, his size always made you clench your thighs in anticipation.

Before you could even touch him, he turned you around and that’s when you realized you were pressed against one of the glass boxes from their performance.

"Mark..." you moaned his name when you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance. There was no time for much preparation so when he slowly pushed his hips forward, a string of curses left his lips at the tightness.

"Fuuuck..." he groaned when your walls clenched around him relentlessly. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you leaned against the box for support

“God, you feel so good” His hands gripped your hips, and you felt his lips kissing your shoulder before he whispered that he was going to start moving. You nodded weakly.

His pace started out slow, but there was an undeniable urgency in each motion. His hand moved from your hips to your neck, gripping you softly and pulling you closer with every deep thrust. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and with every kiss and nibble, you couldn't help but clench around him, making his hand close tighter against your throat. This pattern continued for a while, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Please..." you whimpered, and he grunted softly against your neck.

"What do you need, baby?" he asked.

"More, please, I need more," you moaned, feeling his grin against your neck.

He wasted no time. His thrusts quickened, and you couldn't help but release soft gasps and moans with each movement. You leaned forward against the box, your breath fogging up the glass, feeling it tremble beneath you as he continued fucking into you harder. Mark was losing himself, or perhaps he already had; he was rutting against you as if he was an animal in heat.

"M-mark... I'm close," you mewled, not sure if he even heard you amidst the loud cheers.

"Mhm, me too," he moaned, his voice strained. 

It only took a few more thrusts and you were spent, moaning and mumbling incoherently as he helped you ride your orgasm.

 "Fuck, it's gonna be messy if I cum inside you," he realized, slowing his movements.

He was right… he wasn't wearing a condom so as soon as he pulled out, it would definitely drip down your legs. And there wasn’t anything nearby to clean you up with.

"Pull out," you said, and you could see his confusion from the corner of your eye. Nonetheless, he did as told. His hand was already on his dick, ready to take care of himself, but when you knelt down, it was as if his body glitched momentarily.

Your hands replaced his, applying just the right amount of pressure in your strokes to evoke that familiar sensation building in his gut. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your makeup slightly smudged from tears and sweat. The sight was incredibly hot, and just when he was about to cum, you opened your mouth, catching all of his release. Some of it trickled down your throat. The whole scene, along with the sounds you made while swallowing, had Mark almost in tears from the sheer intensity of the moment.

After swallowing every drop, you stood up, adjusting your panties and casually licking a remnant from the corner of your lips, all while maintaining eye contact with Mark. He watched you in stunned silence, still catching his breath. You chuckled when he remained frozen for a good 10 seconds, pulling him close gently and zipping up his pants. In that moment, you heard his voice.

“Please come on tour with me,” he begged, his eyes wide with hope. You just smiled and kissed him.

“Where’s Mark?! You guys are up in 2 minutes!” The staff's frantic shouts pulled you both back to reality. You exchanged a glance and burst into giggles like a pair of teenagers.

i think i might be shadowbanned guys so interact with this post if u enjoyed it pls &lt;3

[yorsgirl]

Love is a Curse

Trope: Angst

Warnings: none

Word Count: 818

He is perfect.

Fingers threads through your hair, abruptly stopping when you question: would you be sad if I die?

His eyebrows knit together, he stares at you with confusion - you aren't dying.

You want to smile, if I do?

I won't let you.

He is a man of few words, it's often not he expresses himself but when he does, your chest rumbles with an emotion you certainly know about.

I am never letting you go. You're stuck with me forever.

You know he's right. You truly are stuck with him forever.

.

He is like dopamine.

Touches aren't what you expected them to be. You know the touch even with his presence or absence.

They belong to you after all.

It's his name you chant, his name you say. Whether they be alone or in middle of a crowd. Your mind screams his name, always. The fantasies you stage revolves around him, always.

Everything he does leaves you wanting more.

You tell him this one very night, lying in your bed. He listens, he knows. He is there every night, every time, every second. He knows.

But he doesn't answer.

You close your eyes, then you hear him say.

So do I, for you.

.

Distraction doesn't work.

You try to. You really do.

You try using apps, moving to your people, your friends, your teachers, your family. They don't help at all. And you are down the rabid hole again.

Then you are running to him.

He scolds you, still taking you back with open arms. Chiding you for even trying to believe what they said.

Arms wrapped tight against your body, you cry silent tears hearing words so endearing. You don't deserve this.

He knows what you are thinking. You deserve everything, my love. The stars, the moon, the sun, the world... I will give you what you want. I am yours.

Why does he do this? Doesn't he know it has you falling for more?

He is cruel.

.

It's on days you want to comfort him.

You see him again. You read him again. As always.

There is a smile on your face and your chest is rumbling with that emotion again. You almost can't stop your squeal.

But then you see him in despair, in pain.

And it hurts you seeing him hurt. Emotional or physical, it doesn't matter. It hurts seeing him hurt.

You want to reach out and comfort him. But you can't.

.

Everyone tells you, you shouldn't be this devoted.

You can only answer that you can't.

Your devotion can never measure up to his. His affection, his tenderness, his devotion... his love. They are immeasurable for you.

But he is consumed with darkness. They say.

They fail to understand that you love his darkness as much as his light. For in your darkness, only he sits with you. Only he knows about it.

The parts they see as ugly and unlovable, are the very parts he said he loves the most about you when you said it to him.

Plugging the earphones on, you hear his voice again on the other end.

Did you forget me, pretty? You aren't calling lately, or did you find someone else? Nah, can't be. You have to get rid of me before that.

And getting rid of me isn't that easy.

You hate how he knows so much about you.

.

The men around you are... nice.

And it's just that. They are nice.

Some of them better than the other, some worse. And you know, you can live with one of them, one day.

But it feels wrong.

Thinking about other guys feels wrong.

Its foolish of you to even think you can ever replace him with one of them. Even when the touch of another on your skin repulses you.

And at the end of the day, its just that - they are nice.

Then you question:

Can they ever understand you like him? Can they ever know you like him? Can they ever accept all the darkness about you like him? Can you ever love you like him? Can they ever be him?

The answer is clear.

Hence, you are running back to him. He accepts you with open arms.

He is your home, regardless of what he does.

He tells you that, It is fine. I will never let you go, pretty. You are mine.

And that's what you want to be. His.

.

You open your eyes.

You see the ceiling, you are in your room.

Love is a curse. It has you falling for him in every way possible. And it's him, that you want. You wonder if you'll get over him.

You want to laugh. Who are you kidding? It's been years.

You smile, a single tear rolls down your eyes. The realization hits you again, like every other day.

You love him. You want him. But you can't.

You exist. He doesn't.

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, Kageyama Tobio, Shoto Todoroki, Bakugo Katsuki, Son Hak, Loid Forger.

A/N: uhm, this is very close to me and the characters mentioned are just my faves with whom fantasize the most, you can imagine your other fav in place of them too

+

Thank you for reading.

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 cws: sub!scara, gn reader but described as afab, whiny scara

【☆】 I got a few requests for a part 2 of *this* , so i spent the past few weeks trying to come up with something, enjoy (not proof read)

word count: 3.2k

The sun shines on your eyes, the warm light slowly waking you up. Slowly blinking the fogginess away, you take conscience of the empty space next to you.

Did he leave you behind?

Your eyes shift as they spot movement, his back is facing you and he seems busy with tying the bow on his obi. He stops as he hears you sitting up behind him.

“I got you breakfast,” he points at a sunsettia on his right. He doesn’t give you time to thank him, immediately speaking up again. “Buer was asking how the expedition was going, we should probably hurry up,”

You stop half-bite in the sunsettia as the words sink in- but again he's faster, almost as if he sensed your confusion.

“She watches over me when I'm outside of the Palace,” there’s a tinge of annoyance as he keeps speaking, “I still am her prisoner after all.”

“... Does she watch over you, like, all the time?”

You stumble with your words as you gather your composure, the prospect of Nahida witnessing yesterday’s event is enough to make you panic for a second.

His shoulders tense momentarily, "No, she knows when to look away." A slight pink dusts his cheeks as he thinks about your hands on him again.

Quickly munching your way through breakfast and packing the tent back up, your travels resume once again.

The trek is still mostly silent, just less awkward this time. The wanderer slowed down his pace to match it with yours, walking next to you instead of being miles ahead.

The mission itself was relatively easy- just retrieving an object- a dendro core or whatever Buer said it was called. The only issue was its location, deep into the Avidya forest, hence why she decided to send the Wanderer after it.

He reluctantly accepted, (not that he had a choice to begin with, being her "prisoner" and all), even less willing when Buer mentioned Aether accompanying him. He was already dreading the prospect of walking around with that annoying flying thing, and then you showed up. And he thought things couldn't get worse.

He finds himself thinking about your words over and over "You're stuck with me now." He hopes it wasn't just an "in the heat of the moment" thing. The way you held him and kissed him had strings tugging at his non-existent heart, beating so loud it was ringing in his ears.

He was considering slowing down the mission's progress just to have an excuse to be close to you again. But that thought quickly gets swatted away, with the core now retrieved it was time to head back.

***

Nahida's words echoed in the Palace of Surasthana, sounding solemn and serious as she explained the importance of the core.

But the Wanderer was not listening. His eyes unfocused and staring at the ground. So deep in thought he didn’t even notice the fleeting glances Buer was giving him. She quickly wraps up her discourse, dismissing you both with a smile.

It was kind of anti-climactic, the day went surprisingly smooth, no twists or epic adventure. You think about Aether and Paimon, who somehow always manage to find themselves in the eye of the storm of any situation, for a second you envy them, but yet again the thought of dealing with problem after problem deters you from that thought. You’ve had enough action, after all, you got to see Kunikuzushi’s carefully crafted façade crumble in front of you like a tower of cards. He was even more docile after the deed and didn’t even bother to come up with any insult to throw at you during the trek back. You wanted to see more of that, you decided.

You hear his footsteps as he walks away from the center of the grandiose room. His beautifully crafted sleeves sway with each step. Quickly catching up with him, he glances at you. There’s a sly smile on your face, it seeps in your tone as you speak.

“Where are you going?”

He sounds a bit exasperated as he responds, “To my room.” It’s a short sentence, as if he was trying to get away with the bare minimum of conversation.

“Oh, right. You’re still staying here.” The whole palace was stunning, intricate designs adorning both the inside and the outside walls. Was his room as fancy?

“Can I see it? your room, I mean.” He grumbles while still walking. “Why? There is nothing to see. It’s a momentary allocation anyway.”

"But I’m curious.” You catch up when he puts a little bit of distance between you again. Why can’t he just deny you? He can’t bring himself to say no to you this time, sighing silently as he finds himself in front of the door of his room.

“... I guess. Since we’re already here.” He reluctantly pushes the door letting the both of you step inside. The tinted glass of the window gives a peaceful atmosphere, the sun rays emanating a nice heat wherever they land. He stands in the middle of the room awkwardly, following your gaze as you look around.

Sure, it’s a fancy room, but it’s just so bare.

There’s one bed, the blankets and pillows are perfectly smoothed out, one wardrobe in the corner of the room, and nothing else. It doesn’t even look lived-in, perhaps Nahida cleaned it up while he was out but you highly doubt that. Clean and organized to the bare fits him, you conclude.

“You’ve seen it now. You can leave.” He mutters under his breath as he puts down his hat. You decide to play with him for a bit.

“Aw, already kicking me out?” You feign being hurt as you walk up to him.

He looks up to you as your hands reach out to him, playfully twirling the tufts of hair on his neck. “I’ve had enough of you these past few days.” Liar. He can’t bring himself to admit that he craves your touch, denial is more comfortable. Your eyes lock for a second, deeply staring into each other.

His mouth opens for a few seconds, but whatever words he was conjuring up die down in his throat as he sighs and closes his eyes.

Docile.

“If you want something you have to speak up.” You slowly close the gap between your bodies. The zones where your body comes in contact with his are warm.

Insufferable. He thinks. Of course, you’d make him work for it, but he decides to play along.

“Same goes for you, you’re all over me.” It’s his turn to smirk now, he caught you off guard, that sly smile disappearing momentarily.

“Oh? But I thought I was being pretty clear.” Your hands glide from his neck to his waist, squeezing it slightly before pulling him forward.

“I want you, Kunikuzushi.” You whisper near his ear. Your hot breath on his neck makes him shudder. Dammit. Once again, he tries to speak up but stops. Since when did he get so hesitant? But he can’t think of any other scenario where he found himself utterly speechless. It’s only around you. He stills as your fingers press deeper into his waist, growing impatient at his lack of a response. You stare at him in the eyes, but looks away almost instantly-

“Do whatever you want,” he grumbles, a cute shade of pink covering his cheeks.

You get close to his face, so close he can feel you exhaling, his eyes flutter closed and he slightly leans in. Cute.

You don’t make him wait, one hand grabbing his cheek as you close the gap. His breath hitches as if he wasn’t entirely expecting you to kiss him. Your hand grabs his arm as you direct it around your neck, he immediately sinks it into your hair.

It’s a bit funny how quickly he crumbles when you touch him, although he’d rectify and say it’s pathetic. How could he give into such silly desires so easily anyway? It felt good, having someone like him, stoic and silent, turn to putty with a simple kiss. If anyone caught you in a compromising situation like this the gossip at the Akademya would spread like wildfire, but it doesn’t turn you off, in a way it spurs on that possessive streak in you. It would let everyone he’s off the market. Whether he’s unaware or simply doesn’t care about it, many people turn their heads towards him when they see his fair face and striking red eyeliner. And it’s not just because of his unusual clothing, he’s just so pretty.

You pull away slightly, gasping for air silently, you’re met with resistance for a second, the Wanderer’s hand remains at the back of your head, as if he didn’t that moment to end.

He doesn’t need to fill his lungs with air, but you do. Your human need for air never bothered him until this moment. How he wishes he could just kiss you forever, but he doesn’t plan on asphyxiating you with his lips.

As if reading his mind, your lips return on his once again, just more aggressively. Deeper. You actively push him back, he stumbles until his back is met with the wall.

Now, you’ve got him trapped. Not that he would ever want to escape from your touch.

Your hands slide down his obi to his shorts. It was one of the first things you noticed about him when you saw him- those hip windows. It would be so easy to sneak your hand into one of the two holes and grab him. You wonder for a moment if he himself came up with such a slutty outfit. Your thumbs massage the skin of his hips, separated only by the thin fabric of the body suit. You can’t reach the front in this position, so you opt to shuffle your hand under the fabric of his shorts and get a good grab of his butt.

He freezes momentarily, breaking off the kiss.

“What?” You ask, your eyes boring into his. He deadpans.

Your gaze lowers, admiring his puffy lips, then lower.

His member formed a nice bulge on the front of his shorts. You lowered your hand to the hem of his shorts and dragged him closer to you. Now he was effectively sitting on your thigh, the sudden contact making him shudder.

"would you stop teasing me?" he says in an irritated tone.

You don't answer his question, opting to silence him with another kiss. He gasps in the kiss when he feels your hand outlining his bulge. It's so painfully slow, and you don't seem to have any intention to speed up.

So he takes matters into his own hands and pushes his hips towards you, grinding both on your thigh and hand.

"Don't do that." You're quick to chastise him, taking your hand away.

Too many clothes, you think, the fact that he’s still fully clothed is a complete failure on your end.

Your hand moves to his obi again, pulling on the bow until it comes loose and slides on the floor. The familiar movement brings you back to the last time you did this.

Oh, how you wanted to see him all ruined once again.

You hook your finger on the waistband of his shorts, pulling those down too.

His member springs up, now free from its confinements, your eyes linger momentarily on the marks on his thigh you left last time- they’re a bit faded but still visible, but before your hand reaches out to it he stops you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he blushes slightly.

“Let me do something for you.” He searches in your expression for a hint of disagreement,

and when he doesn’t see any he proceeds to tug upwards at your shirt until it’s off.

“We are not outside this time.” It seems a plain statement, but you know he means that there is no rushing or fear of getting caught this time. There’s also the commodity of being in his room.

He slowly backs you until you hit the bed, taking the hint, you hike up until you’re laying with your back on the pillows. He shimmers out of his shorts before joining you, awkwardly nestling himself in between your legs.

It’s then that he decides you’re still wearing too many clothes. He hooks his finger under your bottom-wear, pulling it all down in one fell swoop. His eyes fall down immediately. The sight makes him throb, something that you don’t miss. You’d tease him for it but he leans forward again, kissing you softly. It’s short, just a quick peck.

He hesitantly puts his hand on your waist. It’s then that you realize he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. It’s more endearing than anything, the fact that he wants to please you despite his blatant inexperience.

“Your hands?” you speak. Putting your hands on his. He seems to think for a moment, not giving you any answer, he just slides his body lower onto the bed until his face is just over your cunt.

So he wants to repay you, hm?

He hovers momentarily over it before giving an experimental lick on your sensitive nub, then another, and another.

He puts a bit more pressure this time, even going lower, his tongue swiping over your entrance, collecting your slick. You taste good. Unlike him, he remembers how he could taste himself when you kissed him last time, internally cringing at the memory.

Your hands reach out to his head, entangling themselves in his hair, holding him in place. He takes this as a sign to keep going.

His tongue gets more confident, exploring deeper, pressing harder. His lips close around your clit as he gives it a sharp suck and you moan.

He wants to hear more of that.

He needs to.

His tongue swipes over your slick again, then goes back up and swirls around your clit. This entices more moans from you, only spurring him on, to do better.

His hips twitch against the mattress, slowly humping the sheets.

Hands…Hands. He remembers your question from before, and slides his hand down until it’s prodding at your entrance. He pushes one finger in, feeling how easily it sinks he plunges in another one.

You’re warm, even warmer than he remembers. He spreads his fingers, exploring your insides. He pumps them in and out a few times before taking them out, a slick line connecting them to your core.

It’s then he decides that he can’t take it anymore, a bit disappointed at his lack of self-control he quickly licks them clean before climbing back on you.

His face is so messy. You can see your juices coating his lips and chin. Your hand reaches out to his face, swiping over it in an attempt to make him look less debauched. It’s a lost cause, and he doesn’t seem to care, too preoccupied with aligning himself with your hole.

Quickly glancing at you as if asking for permission, he lets out a breath he doesn’t know he was holding when you nod.

You reach between your bodies as he looks attentively, your hand grabs his dick and pushes the tip against your entrance. He shudders before pushing his hips forward, sinking into you.

You feel so good around him- the involuntary twitches of your cunt, it feels like you’re sucking him in. He resists the urge of just rutting into you like a horny animal but he knows he won’t get that far regardless. Just pushing in a little bit more makes his knees give out. He catches himself on his elbows, stopping himself before headbutting you.

He hears you giggle, not having the force to even face you.

“That good?” but he doesn’t answer- so you follow up.

“It’s fine, just take your time.” your hand slides under his chin, raising it until he’s facing you.

The blush is even more evident now, pink dusting all over his cheeks and his frustrated expression. Your hand moves up, swiping his bangs out of his face before both your hands come up to cup his face and bring it closer for a kiss.

He melts into the kiss, your tongue swipes over his lips and he obliges, granting you access. His hips surge forward once, twice, trying to find a rhythm he’s content with. He’s met with little to no resistance. His dick hits deep inside you, slowly he picks up a decent pace.

There’s an obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wetness making its own noise. He tries holding back any embarrassing noises, but it’s futile, he finds himself moaning into your mouth. He’s almost whimpering. Voice higher than he’d like it to be. Your hand clutches his hair harder, surely ripping out some strands. He likes that.

None of his pathetic attempts at fucking himself into you could top you riding him. He wishes you’d just grab him and flip him over. Mark his skin again, bite him, leave darker marks. Ride him until he’s shooting blanks, and even then don’t stop. And then you’d take care of him, hold him.

He whimpers a bit louder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, completely covering you as he picks up the speed. His thrusts are shallower now, but hit faster and harder.

“So g-good… Fuck, you feel so good.” He says, voice muffled by your neck. He can feel his voice going higher. near whining territory. His lips settle on your neck, leaving dark spots but also muffling more of his embarrassing whimpers.

He twitches inside you, practically throbbing. “I can’t- I can’t take it anymore.” He manages to utter in-between moans. More curses spew out of his mouth and he bites down.

“It’s okay, sweet boy” You push your hand in between your bodies, reaching to rub your clit. “You did good.”

As your own orgasm gets closer, your insides clamp on him like a vice. With a final muffled whimper, he comes- the sensation of his seed filling you bringing your own climax. He keeps thrusting, riding out both your orgasms before collapsing rather roughly on you. He doesn’t even make an effort to move, somehow finding himself breathless, and he doesn’t even need air. You don’t seem to mind, softly brushing out his messy locks while he recuperates.

It’s only when he's completely soft that he rolls over, the sight of his cum leaking out of you making him blush. You don’t let him dwell on it for too long, caressing his side slowly.

He fucked you and somehow he looks more ruined out of the two.

***

After you proposed cleaning up, he realized just how much of a mess the blankets were. It was already late by that point- and there were no spares in the palace anyway. No use keeping furniture that you don’t need, Buer doesn’t need sleep (he would argue he doesn’t either.)

Neither of you wanted to sleep on the wet spot on the mattress, so you come up with the solution of squishing him against your body, wrapping him in your body heat.

He looks so small now, his arms slowly wrap around your waist while his head rests near your neck. Your hand glides down his back, lulling him into relaxation. It’s comfortable like this. Your breath fans over his head and your heart beats in a steady rhythm, he can hear it in this position.

“You’re staying, right?” he breaks the silence. It’s more of a demand than a question.

You just hum, the vibrations tickling the top of his head. He squeezes you slightly harder.

“That’s… good. Stay here.”

[lelengerine]

to have you

pairing | streamer!hyuck x streamer!reader

synopsis | your sleeping schedules never fail to worsen, but in luck, you have him to ease those troubles — just don’t mind the stream in the background, of course.

genre | established relationship, reader uses she!her pronouns once in this, use of nicknames for reader (baby, love) and hyuck (babe)

wc | 0.9k

notes | another gamer hyuck oneshot because im actually obsessed its unhealthy atp ;0; i'd love to know your thoughts on this one!

m.list

its three in the morning, and the thuds of your soles echo through the quiet hallway as you walk down the familiar path to your boyfriend’s room — highly unaware said boyfriend is live on twitch for a 38 hour streaming challenge (courtesy of renjun doubting he couldn’t pull it off). 

you had been trying to fall asleep for the last hour, knowing all too well your sleeping schedule was declining from bad to even worse. yet no matter how much you toss and turn in hopes of falling into a comfortable position, nothing seems to make your eyelids droopy enough to fall asleep.

in the end, you sat up from the comfort provided by your bed, slipped your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, and started trudging your way over to wherever your boyfriend was  — hence why you were currently approaching his room at this ungodly hour in the first place.

you twist the cold, metal doorknob open,  the amount of lights currently in use blinding you for a brief moment. “hyuck, what are you doing?” you question with a groggy voice, rubbing your eyes to hopefully ease them to the brightness of the room. 

“baby? what are you doing up?” haechan awkwardly moves himself closer to the camera to block you out as much as possible, knowing you probably haven’t realized the camera filming him all this time. 

user_01: Y/N IS HERE??

user_02: is that why he’s blocking the cam?

“couldn’t sleep.” the frustrated whine you let out only fuels haechan’s chat as they get affirmation on your presence in the room. 

you, on the other hand, only notice your boyfriend’s streaming materials properly set up after an entire minute had already passed. he’d usually store them away in one of the drawers so that meant…

 a wave of shock washes over you at the late realization, eyes flicking wide open as you crouch down to hide yourself in the current state you were in. “oh my god, im so sorry!”

“noo y/n, love. it’s fine, hm? just fulfilling my part of a bet with renjun.” your boyfriend reassures you, stepping away from his desk to crouch down at your level, meeting your dazed eyes. he gently cups your face with the palms of his hands, placing a gentle kiss on your lips — the feeling still lingering even after he had already pulled away.

user_03: SOMEONE CLIP THIS VOD ITS TOO CUTE

user_04: hii y/n!! we’re all just chilling with hyuck dont be shy :>

user_05: @.user_03 I GOTCHU BFF

“i should’ve checked if you were up to something.” you mumble, soft enough to not get picked up by the audio from haechan’s mic.

“you didn’t know, it’s okay.” he giggles, the bubbly sound lifting your spirit by a little. “plus, you were all cute being whiny about sleep.”

you laugh along with him, lightly smacking his chest. “you’re literally the only one who’d think that.” 

“i better be!” he protests with a gasp, “can’t have any others seeing you all cute and huggable like that. that’s part of my boyfriend rights.”

“what do i get in return then?”

“you, my love, get an unlimited pass to get cuddled by yours truly.”

“i think you benefit from that more than i do, babe.”

“do not!” haechan lets out a gasp, “but really, i can help you fall asleep- if you don’t mind the stream that is…”

“i think i’ve fallen asleep enough times on my own streams to not care, hyuck.” you chuckle, letting him lead you over to his desk.

he pulls a comfy chair from the side, patting the cushion to let you know where to sit. you give him a small smile, grateful he’s taking care of you despite his stream ongoing. 

once you get confortable enough, your boyfriend gently guides your head to his shoulder before mindlessly reaching out to play with your hair while reading the chat messages. you’ve realized he formed a habit of doing so quite early on into your relationship. 

it wasn’t like you minded it either, in fact, it was rather the opposite. to you, it was a soothing gesture he’d do every time the two of you were about to sleep. perhaps, you’ve grown too used to the feeling, to the point you couldn't sleep without it. without him. 

god, you’re so thankful to have him by your side.

user_06: i want what they have :(((

user_07: you guys are the cutest W(`0`)W

you doze off before knowing it, your boyfriend chuckling to himself at how your lips go agape ever so slightly. “chat, isn’t my baby just the cutest?”

user_08: you mean OUR baby?”

haechan reads that comment aloud for the rest of his viewers to hear. “now where are you guys getting that from?? y/n is mine, back away!”

user_09: BRO URE GNA WAKE Y/N UP

user_10: NOT MY STRIMER (￣^￣)ゞ

user_11: Y/N CALLS US HER BABIES TOO DURING STREAMS- WE ALL HAVE RIGHTS

“as if.” haechan scoffs in faux annoyance, opting to hug you a little tighter than he was before (to quote and quote assert his dominance over chat). “you guys are probably jealous of me, huh? i’m the one who has y/n in their arms.”

“and i hope it stays like this forever.” he whispers, a growing smile on his face as he glances down, glad he’s the lucky one who does have you in his arms.

[starlost97]

— melt.

summary: After seeing how heartbroken the families of the people who work for the department get when they die, you decided to not get involved with anyone. You didn't expect, however, to have that ice wall melted away by someone — Jay Halstead — in your own unit. And when Jay got hurt in one of the cases, you couldn't help but be mad at him, and it didn't take long for him to figure out the why.

keywords: fluff, personal favorite, kind of grumpy x sunshine trope, Jay Halstead is a smug bastard, gn!reader.

characters: Jay Halstead.

warnings: mention of near-death experience, swearing.

a/n: wrote this after episode 7 of the Percy Jackson series (hence the Asphodels mention) at 2AM. I was actually going to request that but I ended up wanting to write it myself! hope u like it :)

word count: 1,248.

requested?: no.

Grumpy, reserved, quiet. All words used to describe you. And they weren't really that mistaken.

There was a thick ice wall between you and the rest of the world. A wall that didn't allow you to build any deeper relationship with anyone. One that burned people with its overwhelming coldness.

A wall that you build it yourself a little over a month after entering the Chicago's Intelligence Unit. Specifically after you watched how destroyed a family felt after losing a relative who worked for the department.

You felt selfish for even thinking of getting emotionally involved with someone. What if something happened to you? To them? You would never forgive yourself. You'd be rooted in the Asphodels Meadows — trapped with your own regret for all eternity — if anything ever happened because of you.

Everything was going well with it. You weren't that happy, but you were happier than you would be if you carried all the guilt of putting a loved one in danger.

But you never could prepare yourself to the warmth of Jay Halstead.

How cheeky of you to fall in love with a sweet smile. But it was true. You felt pathetically helpless any time he laughed at your jokes and showed you his teeth.

It was bittersweet. His laugh sounded like heaven and it made your life a living hell. How could you not be selfish? How could you think of being a good person when he was so close to you?

You tried to rationalized it. Tried to think that he wasn't that good. That perfect. That it was just your love-starved brain romanticizing him to tempt you.

Which lead you to the mistake of getting to know him.

Everything got worse.

The attempt of hating his flaws turned out to realizing that his loyalty was too much for his own good. He would mindlessly die for you, without a second thought or regret. How intoxicating.

He was like a honey-flavored poison. The sweetest way to lose yourself forever.

And unfortunately, you tasted him. Not only that, but it was never enough. You couldn't get enough of him. He became everything.

So when he almost died during one of the cases because he risked himself a little too much to get information, you were mad.

"Will you tell me why you're not talking to me?" He asked you, leaning over your desk and tilting his head, letting out a sigh. "Come on, I could've died and you won't even talk to me?"

"It's exactly because of that." You murmured, annoyed, not looking at him.

"What? I didn't hear you." Jay said, getting closer.

"It's because of that!" You said, now louder. You two were alone in the office. You were finishing up some papers while Jay — who couldn't for the life of him be separated from you for more than a couple hours — made you company.

"You're not talking to me because I risked myself?" Jay asked, confused, watching as you got up from the chair and went to the break room.

"I'm not talking to you because you're irresponsible!" You answered, finally looking at him in the eyes. Your bodies facing one another.

"I did it for the case! We needed the info!" Jay argued and you groaned, massaging your temples.

"Oh, my God, you really don't understand, do you?" You brushed your hands against your face, trying to calm yourself down.

"No, I don't. You do things like that all the time, and usually is worse. But when I do it, I'm irresponsible?" He asked, frowning.

He looked at you, trying to understand what was wrong. You weren't like this. You didn't fight with people unless their actions harm the case. So what was happening?

It was when the realization hit.

You were worried.

"Detective," He called, flashing you that damned smile that you so desired to kiss. "are you mad because I could've died?"

"Wha- What? No!" You mumbled, taking a step back as he approached you.

"Oh, yeah?" He mumbles, smiling smugly at you. "Are you sure of that?" He asks, getting closer and closer.

"Y-Yes, I am! If you died, it would've been a loss for the team and all the time and money that they invested on you would go to waste and-" You gulped, feeling the cold wall against your back and watching as he trapped you, putting his arms on each side of your face. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You said, nervously pushing his chest, but not really wanting him to leave.

"Like what?"

"Like that! Staring at my lips! Stop it!"

"Or what?" He asked, smugly.

Your breath got stuck in your throat, and as the seconds went by, he got closer. His forehead was soon touching yours, and his smile only grew bigger.

"Looks just like a dream I had." He said, putting his hand on your chin. "It ended very well. "

You didn't answer right away, trying to process your thoughts. You wanted to give a good answer, something that would make him go away — even though you didn't really want that —, but a wave of curiosity hit you with the revelation that he dreamt of you.

"How so?" Your voice was almost inaudible.

"I got to do more than just kiss you." He whispered, as if telling a secret. "But I think that just being able to kiss you would already make me the luckiest man on earth."

Your gaze fell to his lips, and just the thought of kissing them got you nervous. Your heartbeat rapidly beating against your chest, and for a moment he thought that he could feel it too.

But it was actually his own.

"Please," He asked. It could be mistaken for a beg, but the smug look on his face said otherwise. "detective."

"I thought…" You were breathless. Your nervousness didn't let you speak properly, but still, for some reason, you knew exactly what to say.

"Say it."

"I thought you were a man of action," You breathed out. "detective."

He smiled.

His hands — painfully — slowly went to the nape of your neck, holding it as he pressed his lips against yours, devouring it slowly, torturing you with it.

The kiss was the epitome of breathtaking. His lips moved slow and tenderly against yours, savouring you like it was his last meal.

He could live the rest of his life devoting himself to kissing you. How could it taste so sweet?

Jay wasn't much of a religious man, and he was even farther of believing in Greek gods. But as he felt your body against his and your sweet kiss on his lips, he was sure that you must be Aphrodite's work.

Masterpiece, actually.

His hands traveled around your body, feeling your curves, trying to memorize it so he didn't feel so sad when they weren't against his fingertips — even though that he knew it would be his life's biggest torment.

And he got a taste of it when he had to part himself from your lips.

"What were you saying, baby?" He asked, with a smug smile on his face.

"Fuck you, Jay Halstead." You said before kissing him again, feeling his smile melt against your mouth as your fingers intertwined his hair.

"You wish." He mumbled against your lips, lifting you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his waist.

Jay warmth was definitely more than enough to melt the ice wall away.

[tonicandjins]

the room smells like absolute shit

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck and reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

GENRE: harry potter au, slytherin!haechan, ravenclaw!reader

WARNINGS: none, just teenage fluff

amortentia (the room smells like absolute shit) is the second installment from 23 moments with donghyuck.

It’s no secret that the ongoing cat-and-mouse game between you and Slytherin House’s very own Lee Donghyuck remains unceasing from the day you and him were sorted five years ago to this day. Today’s no different than the others, except it’s the day before Slytherin House plays against Ravenclaw, your very own, and Lee Donghyuck seems like he’s decided to make your day extra horrible—he’s done it five times already, and it’s barely two in the afternoon.

one

The first one was during breakfast, and if you are being completely honest, you should’ve expected it. Lee Donghyuck likes torturing you when you’re on your period; you don’t even want to remember the full story of how the fuck he even knows what week of the month you get yours. (Long story short: Lee Donghyuck had to be there the first time you got your period in third year.) He claims that he knows your period is on as soon as you enter the Great Hall, because your hair is always uncombed on your first day and your eyebrows are always furrowed when you’re in pain. Donghyuck says if pain and aggravation had colors, you’d be burning in hues now.

“You’re easily the most predictable person I know,” he’d tease, mouth agape as he laughs at the way you would huff from the pranks he’d do just to make your day worse than it already is.

Today was no different. You hadn’t even seen him yet, but he’s made his presence known as soon as you sit and the loudest, most obnoxious sound of fart comes out. It’s Lee Donghyuck who laughs first, and you’re not really in the mood to say anything, hence you take the muggle-made fart cushion off from where you’re seated and throw it from where he’s sitting with his equally cunning friends. You wonder which of his friends brought it for him.

Yeji finds it hilarious. “He just wants to make you laugh,” she comments.

“More like want me to drop out and move across the world,” you grumble as you take a treacle tart and a piece of crumpets from the dishes. The pain stings as you try to sit comfortably. “Fuck this period. Why did none of our ancestors ever think of a stupid charm that could rid period cramps?”

Yuna sighs, agreeing. Yeji smiles even wider and hands you a vial filled with blue-ish liquid.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking it and observing how poorly it’s sealed. “Looks like something a first year would make.”

Yeji shrugs, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It magically appeared on your seat. The same time that fart cushion popped up under your seat.”

You click your tongue, opening the vial and drinking it anyway. The ocean-colored liquid tastes like absolute crap, if you’re being honest, but its effects come as quickly as the potion runs down your throat. The cramping pain from your lower abdomen vanishes. Like magic.

two

Whining, Donghyuck follows you around after first period—all out, arms wrapped around one of yours as he drags his feet wherever yours take you.

“Donghyuck, my books are heavy enough, stop dragging me with your weight!” you shriek. “I’ll come! I’ll come! Just let me go!”

Donghyuck cheers, surprising you with a big, sloppy kiss on your left cheek, letting you go while you stand frozen in place. “I knew you could never resist me. I will see you at Quidditch then. And you will cheer for me! Fuck Houses! I’ll cheer for you in the Annual International Wizard Gardening Competition!”

He runs off and waves goodbye as he catches up with other players clad in their Quidditch capes and jerseys, blending in like he’s always been born to be in this scene.

You can’t remember a time that Lee Donghyuck isn’t talking about Quidditch. You’d met him in first year, when his voice squeaked higher than it does now, and the first thing he had asked Madam Hooch was when he could join the tryouts. Poor little Donghyuckie spent the entire period sulking and pouting when Madam Hooch confirmed that he should at least finish one year of flying lessons and ask her again next year. It was truly all Donghyuck had ever dreamed about. Hence, he had spent his entire first year in Hogwarts learning about the Quidditch and practicing flying more than anyone in the entire castle.

Come second year, Donghyuck auditions the first day of class after summer break. You remember how the entirety of the Hogwarts had cheered when he showed off his flying skills. It didn’t take long for the captain of Slytherin’s Quidditch team to pick him that day. He’d started as one of the keepers, showcasing his impressive ability to defend Slytherin’s hoops, and made his way up as the team’s Seeker, having been promoted this year, fifth year.

And today was his first big game as their house’s Seeker. It’s Slytherin versus Ravenclaw for the first round, and the entire castle is just shuddering in excitement. Lee Taeyong was Slytherin’s most well-known Seeker, the second youngest Seeker after Harry Potter himself, and the longest one for House Slytherin—from first year until he’d graduated last year. This year is exceptionally intriguing because no one’s won against Slytherin because of Lee Taeyong—at least for the rest of Hogwarts.

It’s different for you, though. It’s appealing in some sense, but stressful in a way.

Donghyuck must feel so much pressure now. You’ve unwillingly known him for years, and despite the never-ending games of teasing and pranks, you and him are everything but strangers. Hence, you conclude that it’s normal to feel this way.

“Quidditch players are so damn lucky,” Renjun, a friend from Hufflepuff, huffs from behind you. “They’re excused for classes when it’s Quidditch season. I wish Slug Club get some sort of perks, too.”

You giggle, hopping and wrapping an arm around the Hufflepuff’s shoulders. “We get the Christmas party every year.”

Renjun shakes you off of him. “Hey, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Slytherins.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why would you get in trouble with the Slytherins? That’s such a stereotype, Renjun-ah! You’re the last person I thought would have some prejudice over houses!”

“That’s not what I mean, idiot,” he replies. “Words say one of the Slytherins has a thing or two for you. And I don’t want to be in their radar.”

You slap him on the arm. “Didn’t take you to be such a gossiper.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true!” he defends, ruffling your hair. “Off to Transfiguration?”

You groan. “Yeah. Let’s go together?”

“Sure. Did you finish the assignment—”

“Hey, idiot!” Renjun is cut off by Donghyuck running back to you. “I just remembered I need you for a moment.”

Then he’s pulling you away from Renjun.

You arrive late for Transfiguration. Because Donghyuck wanted you to look at his uniform. Talk about being annoying.

three

Defense Against the Dark Arts is in third period, and Yeji hurts herself halfway through the hour. Yeji and Chenle were playing around and were practicing hex-deflection; the scenarios happened too fast that nobody caught on that Yeji’s been hurt until Chenle started screaming.

“She’ll be fine,” Madam Pompfrey assures as she covers the now sleeping Yeji with duvet. “I’ll have her stay here for the night, too. You can go back to class.”

You nod. DADA is over by now, anyway. “By the way, Madam Pompfrey,” you call out just before she closes the curtain separating Yeji’s bed from the others.

“Earlier today,” you start. “I had really bad cramps because of my period. I found a vial with a blue, green-ish kind of fluid and recklessly drank it. It really helped. Do you have any idea what that is?”

Madam Pompfrey’s eyes widen. “So, that was for you?”

“Huh?”

She smiles. “Donghyuck from Slytherin house has been experimenting on that potion with me for weeks now. He’s been studying in the library, looking for the best ingredients to help with women’s menstrual cramps without any side effects that could compromise the condition of the rest of your body. I heard he had a sister in third year, so I assumed it was for her.”

Your heart somersaults like never before. Madam Pompfrey smiles knowingly. “I guess it was for you,” she concludes.

You leave the hospital wing with your breath hitched, each step making your knees weaker by the second. Lee Donghyuck knows how to annoy you even when he’s on the other side of the damn castle.

four

Lee Donghyuck pulls you away from your friends when you’re on your way out from the Great Hall after lunch.

The door of Room of Requirement appears before you, and Donghyuck pulls you with him, dressed in his brand-new uniform, different from the one he wore earlier before he ran off to practice at the Quidditch Tower. You wonder how he even finds the time to annoy you when the tournament starts in about two hours.

When the door closes, you observe that the room’s transformed itself into a room the size of a greenhouse, filled with lavenders, jasmine, and chamomile. And you have the slightest idea why Donghyuck needs a room full of flowers at this point. You gently place your copy of Advanced Potion-Making on a table that holds countless of ceramic plants holding lavenders.

He starts walking back and forth, anxiety showing in his eyes and the corners of his lips. You can hear how heavily he’s breathing from where you stand.

“Anxious?” you ask. Donghyuck only nods, still walking back and forth. “Here. Come here.” He stops, turning so he could look at you. You step closer when he doesn’t move and take both his hands in yours.

“Breathe in,” you softly say. Donghyuck follows. You start counting to five. “Breathe out.”

You and him repeat and stay like that until you hear his breathing go back to its normal pace. He keeps his eyes on your shoes.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you murmur. Donghyuck closes his eyes. You reach up and cradle his face in your palms. “Where’s all that confidence now? Did you run out of it after drowning me with an incredibly unnecessary amount of confidence all these years? This is the time you need it the most.”

Donghyuck falls apart in your touch and opens his eyes, chuckling. “I knew I made the right decision to pull you here. My confidence came back just now. You’re my confidence. Because you suck and I’m the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, rolling your eyes as you step back, the space between you and him reclaiming its presence. “That, you are.”

He smiles. “You don’t suck that much. Just a little. Sometimes.”

“You, too,” you agree. “You’re going to kill it. I’ll cheer on you even if it means everyone in Ravenclaw House hates me.”

“No one could ever hate you,” he says like it’s a fact.

You smirk. “You do, though.”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” he bites back. “In five years that we’ve been unwillingly revolving around each other’s gravity, I’ve never said I hate you.”

You nod. “I know.” You reach up to gently pat his cheeks once again. “People will know you as Lee Donghyuck today, not Lee Taeyong’s replacement. I know that is exactly what’s been going around in that head of yours. They’re gonna remember you today when you show them No Hands and woo the crowd with Sloth Grip Roll. And you’re gonna win it out there.”

Donghyuck’s eyes follow your lips as you speak. He stares at it longer than he should, and you stare at his, like a magnet pulling you in. His honey-colored skin and tantalizing brown eyes look beautiful under the sunlight peeking from the windows of the room, and from where you stand, you see how much he'd grown. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, seeing you in this light and being taken aback to five years ago, the very first day you'd met in the train to Hogwarts. You mull over the possibility of knowing him beyond what the walls of this castle could show you, knowing him beyond teasing remarks and harmless pranks, knowing him beyond all these years of push-and-pull, knowing him beyond sneaking glances at his lips.

But you’re not about to kiss him in the Room of Requirement. Not when all your feelings are all over the place, scattered and lost. Not when you aren’t sure if he even feels the same kind of rush when you’re around.

It doesn't help that this, whatever this means, has been going on for years. You and Donghyuck are growing up together, and though you and him keep saying you're unwillingly spending your teenage years together, you can't help but think, if given the choice in a few years, would you finally, willingly spend your twenties together?

You're nearing the end of your teenage years together, involuntarily and as borderline friends. Does Donghyuck ever think of you in ways you—admittedly—daydream about him sometimes? Does he think of you when he drinks chamomile tea the way you remember him when you get a taste of butterbeer? Does he also wonder what you do in the summer and think of calling you, only to back out right before pressing call because his heart is thump, thump, thumping like fucking crazy just by the thought of hearing your voice?

Does Donghyuck feel the way your knees are weak now?

Your heart pounds, so loud that you can hear it beating right in your eardrums.

So, you flee, telling him you’re late for Potions, which you most definitely are, leaving Donghyuck and hopefully, the feelings you can’t seem to figure out.

five

The room smells like the Quidditch pitch when you arrive fifteen minutes into the class.

Professor Slughorn raises an eyebrow on you, but tilts his head towards the board where it shows which potion the class is working on today. You find your way towards Yuna and it’s only then that you realize you’d left your Advanced Potions-Making book inside the Room of Requirement. Yuna lets you share her book. The entire class is halfway done anyway.

The potion for the day is called Amortentia, which is apparently the most powerful love potion in existence, which you think is absolute bullshit. You skip through all its description, effects, and history, proceeding to the details instructions of how it’s done.

You start with boiling half a cup of standard potion water and later on adding ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, refined peppermint oil, and moonstone. Once it’s exactly as it’s described in the book, you drop the mother of pearl. The last ingredient was a drop of blood, so you quickly prickle a finger with a needle, pressing your pink with two fingers until the red liquid drops from your skin down to the cauldron.

You finish a little later than everybody, and you’re not sure whether you’d followed the instructions correctly, because yours still smell like the Quidditch pitch. You look around, and everybody’s busy smelling theirs. You lean over to your cauldron, and it doesn’t smell like anything exceptional in particular. Alongside the grassy scent of the pitch is warm tonka bean, deep cedar, and the overwhelming scent of rich jasmine and vivacious juniper berries, which isn’t really that impressive because you smell this all the time.

You smell it all the time because it smells exactly like Donghyuck.

You grab the book from the table you share with Yuna.

Page 62 says, “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It caused a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. It had a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rose from it in characteristic spirals. Amortentia is considered an incredibly dangerous potion, as one should have never underestimated obsessive infatuation.” Then why the fuck does it smell like Donghyuck? And the entire god damn room, too? Does Donghyuck bathe in Amortentia every day?

“Yuna,” you ask. “What does your potion smell like?”

“Sandalwood,” she answers dreamily. “And leather. And floral rose.”

Oh. Then you must have done something wrong. “I think I mixed up the ingredients.”

“Well, what does yours smell like?”

You shrug, “Something really weird.” You turn the page to 63 where the potion is described better.

“Amortentia smells different for everyone,” Yuna continues, and so does the book.

“Amortentia has a different aroma for everyone who smelt it, reminding each person of the things that they found most attractive," the book says.

“Basically,” Yuna’s voice fades in the background. “You smell whatever you’re attracted to."

"Even if the person did not acknowledge or was unaware of their fondness for the object of their affection themselves," the book shouts.

Oh no.

Yuna sighs dreamily, "I aced mine pretty well. I mean, for example, my potion smells exactly like—”

“Donghyuck,” you whisper when it truly, truly hits you.

“No, silly,” she laughs.

“No, Yuna,” you protest. “Mine smells like—”

“Donghyuck, what brings you here?” Professor Slughorn’s voice catches you off-guard. You and Yuna turn to where he’s looking at, and by the door, Lee Donghyuck stands, holding your copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

“I just wanted to bring this to Y/N. She’d left it when she was wandering around Slytherin’s quarters because she’s so obsessed with me,” he announces, smiling widely as he shows off the book.

You stay frozen in place. “What are you all cooking?” Donghyuck sniffs, looking around until he locks eyes with you. “What’s this horrible scent?”

Oh, no.

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on you, equally as confused when he starts realize what the potions smell like.

“Why are you wasting so much perfume, Y/N?” he asks. Everyone goes silent. “The room smells like absolute shit.”

Oh. Merlin’s Beard.

bonus

Slytherin House wins, of course, and you lose your voice cheering for Ravenclaw and Lee Donghyuck, which earned you side-eyes from your peers and at the same time teasing remarks from Renjun and Yuna.

His friends call you an honorary Slytherin and invites you to their Common Room. You're the first person that Lee Donghyuck looks for at the afterparty.

He arrives earlier than the others, and his mates gather around him as soon as he steps in the room, but Donghyuck, Merlin's Beard, Lee Donghyuck doesn't waste time and goes straight to where you stand and kisses the air out of your lungs.

You're on your fifth year in Hogwarts when you learn that Lee Donghyuck tastes like strawberries and that the perfume his mother makes for him is made from jasmine and juniper berries.

[blues824]

Hashira with a s/o that worships them with love, but it's sadly not returned to the reader! And the reader gets Hanahaki Disease, dying or falling out of love with hashira and fell for someone else, or even having their feelings finally returned!

Major angst, Hashira falling out of love with fellow Hashira Reader. Reader is gender-neutral, and a family member of Kagaya Ubuyashiki. 

First time writing for Hanahaki AU!

Gyomei Himejima

With his dedication to honoring and worshiping the gods, he simply had no time for you. Your love was the most expendable option to him. He knew that he would be dishonoring his master by doing this, but surely he would understand. So, he started becoming disinterested.

Then, one day, you were bedridden with fever and a cough. Your uncle had put you on house-arrest, making sure that you weren’t hurt. However, through your 5th coughing fit, bloodied petals had fallen from your throat and out of your mouth.

Kagaya looked at the napkin, and he realized that it might be the curse that was placed upon his family. You were his late sibling’s child and you still had the family name, so the curse was acting upon you. He had told one of his daughters to go get Gyomei, and he realized what had happened.

Upon hearing your wheezing, he felt horrible. He was the reason you were dying, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He had fallen out of love with you. All he could do was pray that you fall in love with someone else. 

But, your condition was continuously getting worse. Out of moral obligation, he sticks by your side. He feels like the shittiest piece of shit in all of Japan. So, as you lay there dying, he prays and prays for your healing. However, his feelings about you remained as they are, and you eventually passed away.

Mitsuri Kanroji

As loving as she usually was, she only had eyes for Obanai. Hence, you were kind of left in the dust with your own feelings. She didn’t mean to, as she didn’t know you loved her in that way. Her obliviousness led to your demise… how fitting.

Mitsuri didn’t understand what was going on when she heard that you were coughing up petals, she had never heard of Hanahaki disease. She just thought that it might be the master’s family’s curse carrying out its job, and that made her sad.

Since you were a dear friend to her, she often accompanied Shinobu at your bedside. After all, she wants all of her friends to not be lonely when they’re dying, as she believes that is the saddest way to die. She tries her best to keep you comfortable, an early form of palliative care.

She didn’t think the bloodied flower petals were disgusting. It wasn’t like you could control it, after all. If only the Love Hashira knew that it was her fault. She didn’t love you back, and that’s why you were lying in bed and throwing up flowers.

Eventually, it got to a point where you were too weak, and you were constantly choking on the flowers that you were coughing up. She understood that you were going to die, so she stayed by you at every single moment she could. The tears she shed as you were fading away fell onto your hand because she was holding it so you wouldn’t feel alone as you passed on.

Giyu Tomioka

He believed that if he learned not to get attached to anyone, he wouldn’t get hurt anymore. Thus, he shut off all of his emotions, including love. No surgery needed for this one, folks. You were fine with not having your feelings returned, but you were over-exerting yourself by always making sure that Giyu was alright.

When you had contracted the disease, the Water Hashira was by your bedside within moments of his master telling him. Even though he turned off his emotions, he still did care about you. He noticed all your efforts and appreciated them.

But, he saw the bloodied petals and knew immediately what it was. There were tales and legends of this disease, and he would kill the person who did this to you. However, you refused to give up any information, meaning you still held back your feelings from him. 

You were rapidly coughing up more and more petals while getting weaker and weaker. You could barely lift your finger without Giyu’s help. Mans had to refrain himself from snapping at Shinobu for touching you or causing you any sort of discomfort.

Unfortunately, you never got a kiss or even a confession, so your state deteriorated by a lot at a rapid pace until you were on your last breaths. Once your eyes started closing, Tomioka knew that it was over. What he didn’t expect was for his crying to end up in him coughing. He held his hand to his mouth, and saw that a petal had fallen.

Tengen Uzui

His family tradition strictly called for three spouses, and those positions have already been taken. He makes sure to spend time with all three of his wives while also balancing training time, so there was little room to hang out with his friends, including you.

Once Ubuyashiki had learned about the Hanahaki disease you had unfortunately contracted from your unrequited love, he had informed the other Hashira that you were out for the count. Tengen was worried, but he thought that you would be alright eventually.

He visited once, and you were coughing up flowers left and right. That wasn’t normal at all. Maybe you wouldn’t be okay. From that point on, he and his wives visited you almost everyday. Whenever he was on a mission, Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma were there to help Shinobu.

But, since your feelings for the Sound Hashira weren’t reciprocated, you just got worse and worse. Eventually, you couldn’t even sit up. It was evident that it would take a full-blown miracle for you to recover, but that was a long shot.

So, the four of them spent as much time as they could with you. This wasn’t a very flamboyant situation that you have found yourself in, huh? No matter, since he would make sure that you would be honored until the end of time.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

The last time he loved somebody, they were taken away from him. So, he saw no point in pursuing love again. It just causes distraction and can make you act irrationally whenever your loved one is in danger. However, that greatly affected you, since you loved Sanemi.

Then, one day, you were training with him when it suddenly got very difficult to maintain your breathing technique. The Wind Hashira thought you were being weak and dramatic until he saw you coughing up literal flower petals with splatters of blood here and there.

Out of pure worry, he picked you up into his arms and carried you to your uncle, who had you lay in bed for days on end. Sanemi would visit you as much as he could, feeling like shit for thinking you were fine and just faking it at the beginning.

As a week passes, your breaths become raspy. You were on the brink of death, and it was easy to see. Shinazugawa doesn’t know much about being soft and sappy and crap like that, but what he does know is that he does care about you. He doesn’t like it when you are coughing up and choking on petals.

But, as we all know, this fic does not have any happy endings. Sanemi is scared, but he doesn’t know what he has to do, and you don’t tell him. Being a Hashira with the Ubuyashiki name meant that the probability of you living past 30 was exceedingly low. So, either way you would have died soon. That meant there was no point in confessions. But, your fellow Hashira cried seeing life fade from your eyes.

Shinobu Kocho

She has no time; trying to keep her anger within her as she is a Hashira as well as a doctor was a full-time job already. However, she thought you were such a great friend. You understood her struggle, and you would often accompany her on her missions.

During one of these missions, you had doubled over in pain and coughs. The Insect Hashira rushed to your side to pat your back to get the phlegm out, but all that came out were bloody petals. She let out an audible gasp, but she sent her crow to Kagaya to tell him what had happened.

Once you both returned, you were immediately taken in by your uncle and put to bed for days. Shinobu became your doctor, and she did so much research about the topic. She didn’t want to pry into your personal life, so she thought that the surgery to get it removed might be a good alternative.

However, you knew the cost of getting the surgery. Not only was it a risky procedure, but you would lose your ability to feel emotions. So, you refused. She was getting frustrated to the point of yelling at you for not going with the surgery, but you knew that she just didn’t want to lose you.

So, she resigned to your fate. You were going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it (or so you told her). She started a palliative care plan for you, trying to make you comfortable during your last moments. But, she was out of the room getting you some tea when you drew your final breath.

Kyojuro Rengoku

He was just completely oblivious to your love. He saw you as a comrade and a co-worker, and nothing more. But, you told yourself that you were fine with where things were at. It wasn’t like it was causing you any physical ailments, after all.

Surprise! You contracted Hanahaki Disease, and you coughed up petals in the kitchen of the Ubuyashiki home. One of your cousins saw and escorted you to your room so that you could rest. Your uncle had informed the Hashiras that you were ill, and Kyojuro was worried.

The Flame Hashira ran to your bedside, where you were coughing up bloody flower petals. Mans went from worried to scared in 5 seconds, and it made him kind of nauseous.  This made you feel bad, thinking he was disgusted by you, and he had to assure you that it wasn’t you.

There was one time where you were in a coughing fit, and he was there to softly rub your back to offer you some sense of comfort, but it did little to help. He often tried to distract you from the painful sickness by telling you stories of his little brother, but again, it didn’t do much to help.

As much as he wished and prayed, nothing could be done if your feelings for him weren’t returned. Kyojuro didn’t want to lose his friend. But, you were getting weaker and weaker, and he was just glad to have been able to say his final goodbyes. He was the one who buried you.

Obanai Iguro

He only had eyes for Mitsuri, so again you were left in the dust with your feelings. To be fair, you were his first friend when he joined the Hashiras, and you acted as a wingman whenever Obanai got worried about his chances with the Love Hashira.

Unfortunately for you, this obviously meant that he did not feel the same way about you. He loved you as a friend, and it broke your heart every single time he asked you for advice, but you sucked it up and dealt with it because that’s what friends do.

That was, until you were bedridden and coughing up petals. If you looked at the Snake Hashira, you wouldn’t know that he was worried. However, Kaburamaru was often laying upon your stomach trying to comfort you when it hurt the most (both physically and emotionally).

Obanai was by your bedside whenever he could be. You were his friend, as much as he was hesitant to admit it, and that meant he cared about you. He froze up whenever you started coughing and he grabbed the bucket to catch the petals.

Every time he had to wipe the blood from your lips, a nagging feeling of dread crawled through him. You were nearing your end. With your final breaths, you wished him well in him courting Mitsuri. What a fitting end, huh?

Muichiro Tokito

He is oblivious to everything, so if you thought he would notice how you follow him everywhere and go cloud-gazing with him every time he asks, you are sorely mistaken. But you just chalked it up to it being a little quirk of his rather than a blatant disinterest in you.

Now, when you first started coughing up petals, you tried to hide it as a common cold. However, no common cold had you bedridden for days on end, and even Muichiro noticed that his companion was usually gone.

When his master had informed him that you had a deadly (but not contagious) disease, he immediately went to visit you in your room at the Ubuyashiki residence. He snapped back to reality in 2 seconds flat as he saw how serious this was.

The Mist Hashira spends most of his time by your side. He tries his hardest to not zone out as he wants to grasp every single word you utter. For all he knew, you could be dying the next day and he wanted to make sure that he could pass your stories on.

What he thought would eventually come true. It came to a point where you couldn’t even speak without coughing. In your last moments, Muichiro made sure that you were as comfortable as could be given the circumstances. The anger he already harbored increased as you let out your final breath.

[monacodarling]

I think to withstand that much criticism, and that much pressure is really astounding. It takes so much mental effort, and emotional focus to get your head straight and focus on the race.

And Charles handled it well with the car issues, hence why he can’t really compare his race pace with Carlos, and just overall did what he can to bring point for the team. It’s just the first race to start off for the season, and he wants to win with Ferrari, so now at least he knows the gap and the effort he needs to make sure they are in P2 in WCC, and to bag that 2nd place in the WDC.

Imagine like the official sports commentators no matter what you do you will always get criticized. And fans, they do stuff which can impact your image negatively too, or worse turn on you. Yet when you’re out in public you don’t have that luxury of being able to wallow or reflect on how you feel because there would ALWAYS be fans hounding him for an autograph (even during an interview!!!) And to compare how he has the media criticism it’s like there are no other drivers to burn out there except for Charles!! Not to mention the team politics (well the family politics of some other drivers…out there arguing with the fans wtf like insane mentality man) Insane. Wish I had his mental strength.

He knows how to be hard on himself, but I’m also glad that when it comes to technical issues, he doesn’t really blame anyone in particular just focuses on how he managed what could’ve done better and moved on

Think this season has that added pressure due to the February happenings. Just insane about when you think about it he has so so so much pressure, and tbh its about the LH moving to ferrari, people criticizing the wrong driver was sacked, his involvement outside F1, and the fact that he’s good looking or the tifosi love him so much or even other people using dirty tactics involving his family or his friends—-things that are constantly brought up to undermine his passion and talent for driving

Would love to see him more focused and DGAF of things outside racing (like answering pointless questions during interviews). Just glad it wasn’t a DNF for him this race!!!

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.