#i stopped working out now and am just... thinking...

[mintyys-blog]

Hi minty, hope you're not to busy but could you please do for main mark and variants reaction to reader suffering from amnesia after they accidentally hurt her . Like what would their reaction be knowing they're the reason she doesn't remember them .

HEADCANONS | variants with s/o who doesn’t remember them

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: violence, blood

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work, whether AI-generated or otherwise, without my permission. — © @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK:

It wasn’t meant to go this far.

Mark paced the apartment like a caged animal. His fists clenched, jaw tight. The mission had gone sideways again—too many civilians caught in the crossfire, too many expectations shoved on his shoulders from Cecil, from the world, from himself.

“I’m just saying,” you said gently from the kitchen, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I am alone!” he snapped, spinning to face you. “No one understands what it’s like. You think you get it, but you don’t. You can’t!”

You stepped forward, unafraid. “Mark, I love you, but you are spiraling. I’m trying to help you before you lose—”

“I said shut up!” he roared, slamming his fist into the load-bearing pillar.

You both froze at the cracking sound above.

You looked up.

“Mark—”

The ceiling groaned. Then it gave. The chandelier—old, heavy, forgotten—fell faster than either of you could react. His scream echoed too late. The glass and metal hit you square in the back. You crumpled like paper.

The silence afterward was deafening. He was on his knees beside you in seconds, glass slicing his hands as he tried to move the wreckage.

You were still breathing. But your eyes fluttered, unfocused. When they finally opened fully, he grabbed your face in both hands. “Hey—hey, baby, stay with me. It’s me. I got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

“…Who are you?” Mark froze. And something in his chest just stopped.

VILTRUMITE MARK

You stood on the battlefield, torn between the bloodied rebel leader on the ground and the man you loved—hovering above like a god of war.

“Don’t do this,” you called up to him, sweat and wind whipping across your face. “He surrendered. Killing him now doesn’t prove anything.”

Mark’s eyes burned red. “You think I care about surrender? He killed dozens of my soldiers. He’s filth.”

You flew up beside him. “You’re not a killer, Mark. Not like them. Please…”

“Get out of the way.”

“No.”

He moved fast. Just a push. A flick of his arm to send you gently aside. Except nothing he did was ever gentle.

The air cracked with pressure. Your body spiraled back like a ragdoll, crashing into a sharp ridge of obsidian rock with a sound that made him sick.

He turned mid-sentence. You weren’t moving.

When he finally reached you, he saw the blood trailing from your ear, the glaze in your eyes as they blinked up at the sky.

He crouched beside you, voice hoarse. “It’s me. You’ll be fine. It’s me.”

You looked at him. And then asked, in a whisper: “Am I dying? I don’t know… who you are…” He couldn’t answer. Not because he didn’t have words—but because the pain was too loud.

MOHAWK MARK

You and Mark were tracking down a back-alley smuggler in a dirty corner of Chicago. He was wired—too much caffeine, too little sleep, muscles twitching from weeks of stress.

The moment he saw a figure leap from the shadows, he moved on instinct. His fist swung hard—too hard. You barely got his name out before the blow connected.

You slammed into the alley wall, your head cracking against the brick with a sickening sound. Your body dropped at an angle no human should bend. “No no no—shit!” Mark dropped to his knees beside you, already pulling you into his arms. “C���mon, babe. Please. Say something.”

Blood on your temple. You’re breathing shallow. His hand trembled as he brushed hair out of your face. You stirred—barely—and blinked up at him. Your brows drew together. “You… you look scared…”

“Yeah, well,” he whispered, trying not to cry, “I kind of just hit the person I love in the head.”

“Do I… know you?” Mark didn’t react right away. He just nodded once, slow and hollow. “You.. did.”

OMNI MARK

The strategy room was quiet, save for the low hum of satellite feeds.

You were arguing again.

“You’re talking about millions of people, Mark!”

“And I’m trying to save billions. Don’t twist this.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to save you.”

He turned too fast. Your hand was on his arm—and in a blink, he threw you. It wasn’t meant to be violent. Just a reflex. But he forgot how fragile you were. You slammed into a glass console. Shards embedded in your back, one slicing into your skull.

Time slowed.

He didn’t move for three seconds. Then everything blurred. He carried you out of the room like you weighed nothing. Blood coated his hands.

Later, when you woke up, the medics stepped back as he leaned in. “It’s me,” he said. “Mark.” You stared at him, confused. “I’m sorry. Are you… uh— who?”

For once, Mark had nothing to say. He left without a word.

PRISONER MARK

It had been months since the escape. Since you found him barely surviving in the woods, shaking, paranoid, haunted by what he’d done and what he’d become.

You let him stay. Fed him. Sat with him on the porch at night.

You thought he was healing.

But trauma doesn’t leave gently.

One night, he woke up screaming—sweat pouring down his chest, breath ragged. His vision blurred.

He saw enemies. Shadows. A phantom invader.

You entered the room, startled. “Mark?”

He lunged.

The force knocked you to the ground. His hand struck your temple hard, and your head bounced off the floorboards. Blood immediately followed.

He froze above you.

You weren’t moving.

“No no no no no—no—” he pulled you into his arms, crying now, shaking your shoulders. “It’s me—it’s me—it’s just me…”

When your eyes opened, you looked up at him. Frightened. Confused. “Who are you?” Mark didn’t scream.

He just pulled you into his chest, rocked you like a child, and whispered: “I’m the man who ruined everything.”

SINISTER MARK

He hated how easily you smiled at others.

You were the only soft thing left in his life, the only constant in the storm that was his fractured mind. And the more people you gave your warmth to, the more he felt it slipping out of his grasp.

Tonight was no different.

You’d just gotten home from work, rambling about a new coworker. A guy. A kind one, apparently.

Mark sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes locked to the floor.

“He just offered to cover my shift next week,” you said, unaware. “It was sweet of him.”

“Did he touch you?”

Your voice stalled. “…What?”

“Did he touch you?” Mark repeated, lifting his gaze now, sharp and glassy with something dangerous. “Your arm. Your back. Your waist?”

You took a step back, your stomach twisting. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters,” he said, standing slowly, “because you’re mine.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t throw a punch.

But the tension radiating from him cracked the windowpane behind him, the glass splintering from sheer pressure. The bookshelves shuddered. One of them—loaded and poorly anchored—tipped.

It happened too fast. You turned, but it was too late. The bookshelf fell with a heavy thud, slamming into your head and shoulder. You dropped like a stone. Mark blinked.

Then everything in him went cold. He was at your side in a breath, pulling debris off your limp body, hands trembling. “No. No. Baby, look at me—”

Your eyes fluttered open. Confusion. Then panic. “Get away from me!”

Mark froze. “What—?” You tried to scramble back, weak and dazed. “Who are you? Where am I?”

He stared at you for a long, broken moment. Then he stood. Turned his back. And whispered, “You were mine.”

TAG LIST: @onlybatsyy

to be added to the tag list, please specify for which variants and if you want to be tagged in smut / dark fics

[marvelslut16]

My Utah

Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon x Dr!reader

Synopsis: Reader hears Javadi failing at asking out Mateo, and it takes her back to when she tried asking out Frank when she was a first year resident.

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Mentions of the mass causality event/shooting. Mentions of blood. Mentions death once or twice, nothing too graphic, no one major.

A/N: Couldn't remember what hour the Utah comment happened in, so timeline probably doesn't fit the show exactly. AU where he isn't married, nor does he have the drug issues. Again, not really sure how I feel about this one, I'm still pretty rusty when it comes to writing. But 2 fics in 2 days?!?! Who am I?

“I don’t date people in the workplace,” you hear Mateo responding to Javadi’s stuttering. Poor girl, and when you hear her stutter some more, you take it upon yourself to step in and help Victoria.

“Do you mind if I steal Dr. Javadi from you? I have a patient I want her to help with,” you smile at Mateo, acting like you didn’t hear anything they had been saying. 

“Yeah, of course,” his eyes flick to Victoria, before nodding to you. 

“You seemed like you could use some saving in there,” you laugh lightly once you’re sure Mateo won’t be able to overhear you. 

“My parents once took me skiing for Christmas in Utah and from the moment I got off the plane, I just, I could not catch my breath, no matter how hard I tried. The altitude just made me awkward and uncoordinated. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t get my bearings. And I’m a very good skier, but I just spent the whole vacation, just like, on my butt, dizzy, panting. And Mateo’s like a human Utah.”

“Oh, I have my own Utah,” you laugh in understanding. “It could always be worse, he could be engaged. He’s not!” you add the last part quickly when you see her eyes widen in panic. 

“Oh, good,” she lets out a sigh of relief. 

“But mine was, or at least practically engaged. I found out he had already bought his girlfriend a ring after I made a fool of myself.”

“How did it end up working out?” Victoria asks, finally getting her own emotions in check.

“We’re great coworkers now, but it was one of the most embarrassing days of my life,” you admit, walking up to the nurse’s station. 

“Is he here today?” Victoria asks, looking around the ED trying to figure out who’s married. 

“He is,” you sigh, avoiding looking in Langdon’s direction. “He’s in South twelve right now.”

Javadi whips around to see who could be the person to knock you off your bearings. “Langdon?” she asks in complete shock, she imagined it would be someone more like you- someone nicer. 

“It was like in one of those cheesy romance novels, it was like the whole world disappeared and there was only him. He was a second year resident at the time.”

Just talking about it transports you back to two years ago, getting lost in his baby blue eyes. He seemed to take a special liking to you, he was always having you work alongside him, pulling you away from other residents when he had a more interesting case he wanted you to experience. 

Within the first month of you being in the Pitt it was like you and Langdon were attached at the hip. When he could see you slowing down during one of your many twelve hour shifts, he would slip you little snacks like granola bars or cheese crackers. If you had down time you were grabbing coffees or water for the two of you from the break room. The way you were with him caused Perlah and Princess to gossip about the two of you. And it didn’t stop with them, when no one else was around even Dana and Robby would talk about the way the two of you act around each other. 

With each passing day your feelings for Frank grew stronger and deeper. You spent pretty much every waking minute thinking about him, anytime you could let your mind drift it would slip back to thoughts of him. It didn't help that you would grab late night dinners to decompress after pretty much every shift, and spending your days texting one another about anything and everything. 

Even with all of that time spent together, you had no idea he had a girlfriend- and a serious one at that. If you had known you never would have dreamed of asking him out, of thinking you had even a sliver of a chance with him. One fateful day two months into your rounds, you asked him to go to the Carnegie Science Center with you on your day off. His face immediately changed from the carefree smile that Princess swears he reserves just for you, to a cold hard stare. You can still feel the white hot embarrassment washing over you to this day. You were so embarrassed, and to make matters worse you had just spit the question out at the nurses station right in front of Dana, wanting to- needing to- ask Frank before you lost your nerve. So you got rejected right there in the middle of the ED in front of your charge nurse, the same nurse who told you two weeks later that he had gotten engaged over the weekend.  

“At least I waited two months before asking mine out,” you tease Javadi. 

“Dr. (Y/L/N),” you and the first year resident beside you freeze at the unmistakable voice. “Can I get your opinion on a patient in North four?”

“Yes,” your voice squeaks a little, once again feeling the embarrassment you felt around him two years ago. “But, I’m bringing Dr. Javadi, she could use the experience.”

“Okay…”he furrows his brows at you, confused by your reaction to him. 

Javadi watches Langdon and you, how the two of you move in sync, no trace of the awkwardness she’ll no doubt have with Mateo going forward. She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before, the little looks you two give each other as you work, wordlessly communicating your thoughts to each other. He may have rejected you years ago, but he still clearly cares about you and values your opinion. 

The remaining hours of your shifts slip by; Javadi, Langdon, and you being separated and thrown together multiple times throughout. She watches you two, observes the way you take care of each other. 

“Cute, aren’t they?” Dana asks Javadi once she returns from her CT scan. “Been wondering when they’ll get together. The whole department’s got a bet going if you want to get in on it.”

“Isn’t he married?” Javadi asks, confused. Afterall, you said he had an engagement ring for his girlfriend. 

“No, he couldn’t go through with the wedding,” Dana gestures toward where you and Frank are leaning against the other side of the nurse’s station, giggling over the cups of freshly brewed coffee you just made. 

Your moment is cut short by the announcement of the shooting at Pitt Fest, everyone is scrambling trying to set up the ED before the first ambulance arrives. You work through the carnage, compartmentalizing everything you see, so you don’t break down in the middle of the chaos. There’s blood everywhere and you’ve changed your gown at least two times. You’ve lost Frank in the frey, which is to be expected, but hard nonetheless when he’s your lifeline. Slowly but surely everyone works as a well oiled machine and save everyone that you can. 

Once it’s all over and your body no longer has to run on autopilot, you're faced with the reality of what just happened. The blood smeared across the floor reminding you of the teenager, with her whole life in front of her, that you couldn’t save. Tears start to collect on your lashline standing in the middle of the emergency department, watching all of the fluids get mopped up so the ED  can be opened back up to the public like nothing just happened. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Frank appears out of nowhere, pulling you tightly into his chest. “We just need to hand off our patients to the night crew and then we can go home.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you grip onto his scrubs.

“I know,” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head without a thought. “You can come over to my place, I’ll make us some dinner, and we can watch a movie. I’ll even let you put on one of those trashy rom coms you love so much.”

“Thank you Frank,” you bury your head into his neck, taking a deep breath and putting your game face back on. 

“I love you,” Frank says out of nowhere, still holding onto you.

“I love you,too, my Utah,” you smile at him before heading off to find a resident to hand your cases off to. Frank and you will have to address your confessions when your emotions have calmed and the adrenaline has worn off.

“What?” he asks himself as you walk away. “What’s a Utah?”

[calebslittlecrow]

How To Assume

(stop being an overly anxious potato over manifesting)

Sometimes I see shifters asking “Oh, what should I do? Nothing is working :(“ and they get hit with the good ol “just assume” stamp and send on their way. And then, barely 10 steps later, they turn around and whisper “... the fuck do I even assume?”. Before I chew your ear off: assuming isn’t hard. Well, not really, but people tend to make it hard. We as humans just love acting like we need to turn ourselves into a pretzel every time we want something “big”. We actually assume every day - when we decide we suck, when we tell ourselves we’ll never shift anyway, when we confidently declare we are stuck in our 3D and shifting is just too good to be true and all those people in the reddit community saying it’s just astral projecting or deep lucid dreaming are right (what is even going on over there atm?). Guess what your 3D is doing with those assumptions? It grabs them, says “bet!” and starts running like it’s a race. Congrats ^-^ But hey, the good news: if you can assume all of that shit, you can also assume that you have shifted. Yeay! In the spirit of keeping it simple, I turned the way I see assuming into a neat little list. Enjoy, or not: 1. Just Decide That’s it. Thanks for coming to my TED talk, exit is to the right. Okay, it sounds suspiciously simple and I know some brains will twitch a bit right now with “That can’t be it”. But it is. You sit down, breathe and say “I have shifted”. No begging, no pleading, no howling at the moon. You just decide, and that is where a lot of people crumble already by pleading for it to happen instead of deciding it has happened. You don’t need an approval stamp, you are the CEO of your own reality, not the intern grabbing coffee. Act like it. Deciding isn’t hoping or praying, it’s simply knowing. No matter if shit catches up immediately, tomorrow or next week. Doesn’t matter, let go of the need for it to happen right now. 2. Stop checking You said you shifted and now you are still checking your reality every 2 seconds like a teenager waiting for a message from their crush. Stop it. You’re rereading your script, watching shifting TikTok like the answer to all your problems will jump at you, poking your subconscious like “are we there yet?”. That’s not assuming, that is panic dressed up as productivity (or something like that). You are basically saying “I don’t actually believe this is done and decided”. Cut it out. Just go live your life. Play some games, touch grass with two hands and one face (beware of bees), breathe some fresh air. Your desire won’t implode because you stopped choking it out and stopped micromanaging everything. Obsessing doesn’t equal manifesting. Just let it cook. 3. You commit or you quit Assuming means you have to kinda commit to it. You’re not almost there, or halfway shifted. You are there. You have shifted, no more ifs and whens and buts and any other kind of spiraling. Take five minutes out of your day, relax into that knowing (or deciding). Feel your DR bed, hear your DR friends be loud as fuck for no reason, smell the DR air. Let your imagination drown out this reality like unwanted background noise. Similar to the fake arguments you rehearsed in the shower. You never needed help with those, did ya? 4. Yell at your doubts Maybe do this one internally, unless you are really feeling bold today. Every time your doubts creep in and whisper “What if it is not real?”, you turn around, embrace your inner main character energy and yell back “Shut the fuck up Brenda (sorry to all the Brendas out there), get back into the backseat. You’re not driving, I am.” Your doubts don’t get a say in what you want. They are not invited. You think your DR self is out there wondering if they are real or not? No, they are living the life you are telling yourself is unreachable.

5. Feeling ready is overrated, just do it Stop waiting to feel ready and questioning if your script is perfect or not. Your brain will rarely send you the green light you think you need to go ahead. You will feel silly, you will feel delusional. And you might feel like a clown. Embrace it, be the clown. Insist on what you decided until your 3D gets nervous and bends over in existential fear. You don’t wait to feel certain, you decide you are certain. And then go and act like it’s done.

TL;DR (how dare you, but fine T-T) Assuming you have shifted is like assuming the sun will rise tomorrow. You don’t argue with your friend about it. You don’t beg the sun to rise again. You just know and walk with the confidence that it’s happened, and with shifting you do so because you said so. That’s it. Stop overthinking. Assume and now go, I need to do some drawing stuff.

[capsensislagamoprh]

"You know," she said as I turned the corner, "you're dangerously close to something."

"Is it your liver?" I asked, pressing my knife in deeper.

"Not quite. Good thing too. The god of medicine is a buddy, and pal, he do get mad when I show up with random holes I didn't previously have."

I admit, I was taken aback. "Say what now?"

"Oh yeah. Lives over on 3rd and Pine."

"There's a god. Living on 3rd -"

"And Pine, yeah. So anyway," she smiled, dusting off her robes. "I work for the messenger god - fabulous health care, pension, I mean how could I not? He says to watch it. You're dangerously close."

"To what?"

"Becoming one."

"I'm going to need clarity." Perhaps demanding was a strong word, but it was heavily implied I should put away my knife as she pushed her rather pointed boot into my groin in the most unpleasant manner.

"That should help."

By the time I recovered enough for the letter she'd dumped on me to stop swimming through my vision, she and her burgundy trench coat were gone.

Three hours latter there was a knock at my door. The sun set and so did my senses. She was back with pizza and a twelve pack. By the time I'd decided I was to intrigued not to let her in, my small apartment was full of people literally crawling in through the fire escape. Except that one guy who walked in through the closet door like it was Tuesday. There were more than a dozen of them taking over my living space, raiding my fridge. One guy pulled out things I *knew* weren't in my fridge. All I could think was 'what is happening'?

"So, you're the new kid," a particularly buff old gentleman with the sort of beard one can only describe as a cloud said as he sipped from an IPA, bright eyes taking me in. "Interesting."

I was so off put all I could say was, "What?"

"Don't mind him. He's new," said the messenger's assistant, divesting her burgundy coat. "So new he doesn't know what he's done yet."

The room stopped. Glances were exchanged. "At all?" asked one particularly colorful being, his heart shaped shades some how clashing violently with his Hawaiian shirt and cacky shorts while completing the image at the same time. She set down the six pack and grinned.

By the next morning I knew what I did. I knew what I'd done. And I knew what I was in for.

Old gods exist, sure. Saw a few myself last night. (Don't ask the guy in the loud shirt to take off his glasses. Just an F.Y.I.) But so do new ones. They exist for a thousand little things. And they have a portfolio or radius. Mine? I'm the 'generous god'. The giver. Some praise me by words. 'What a lucky day!' Some sigh in relief or look confused and pleased. But what matters is that they have started talking. And I have become.

Right now I am an urban legend. If I keep doing what I am, I will become part of the fabric of this place. And from there I can gain power, followers, more. If that's something I desire.

It comes with perks. Immortality based on gathered belief and those who warship - even if warship isn't in a structured temple thing - and the ever present stuck-at-the-age-I-am-now-forever bit. The down side? Power comes and goes. You do tend to out live everyone else. It leads to a tight net community of small gods. And they will randomly show up on your couch to crash for a few days.

But the thing they thought was great was that I came with my own built in set of moral codes. Most people have a hard time not letting power like this go to their heads. That's why they seem immortal in life but die tragic or forgotten. I'm not Robbin Hood. I'm not a saint. I'm a new god. A small player on a cosmic stage.

I think I'll grab a couple of friends and film them handing out flowers to people to make their day. You have to start your following somewhere. Might as well do with with a smile. We'll get coffee on the way.

You’re a rogue with enough gold to last ten lifetimes. But old habits die hard—you sneak through crowds, slipping coins into people’s pockets. The kingdom is buzzing about the mysterious, generous "thief."

[frostiexavier]

˖⁺(pondering over you)_🖤

☆ MINORS DNI | 18+ ONLY ☆

credit to Astralis Serenity on Pinterest for pic

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

✮♱✮ summary: You have a tiny little secret you are hiding from Sylus. Basically you love him but you refuse to admit it and his flirtiness/banter doesn’t help. One night you just decide enough is enough.

✮♱✮ warnings: smut, nsfw, (kinda soft) sylus x fem! reader, banter, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, confessions, boxing scenes, kind of a slowburn kinda not, not much else i don’t think, sylus is beefy

✮♱✮ word count: 6.5k

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

“Sylus you really need to be more careful. You are banged up really bad this time.”, you say as you are dressing his wounds. You pour a bit of disinfectant on a gash on his shoulder and he grunts. The liquid dripped down his bare chest to his abdomen. Trickles of the substance landing on his black pants. You try to focus on his wound and not him being completely shirtless in front of you.

“Sorry, I’m trying to be careful”, you say and he chuckles looking at you then to your hands.

“Don’t be sorry sweetie, it doesn’t hurt”, he smirks and you give him a side eye along with a scoof.

“You act so tough but if I didn’t help you, you would be sulking”, you say and wrap the gaze around his shoulder. You can feel the intensity of his gaze.

“Mmm probably, otherwise I would be left here like a wounded deer, with no one to take care of me”, you laugh while keeping your eyes on the gauze you are wrapping. You cut the edge of the gauze and tape down the excess. You gently pat the gauze and Sylus looks at your work.

“All done bambi, now you can recover and rest”, you smile and he pats your forehead.

“Thanks kitten, what would I do without you?”, he winks while he smiles and you roll your eyes. He is being flirty…again. This man drives you wild. You try to hide your blush as you turn away from him.

“I don’t know, you could use your evol to heal yourself. I don’t understand why you make me bandage you up and waste medical supplies when you can just heal yourself”, you question him and he looks at your eyes, then your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to see your pretty face this close”, you freeze at his words, feeling chills run down your spine. Did he just call you pretty? Impossible, you hate when he teases you like this. Sylus notices your facial expression and decides to cover his compliment with banter.

“Now your face looks uncomfortable. Are you constipated kitten?”, he asks and you raise your eyebrow at him. You swat at his shoulder and he gasps. Without realizing it you hit his wounded shoulder.

“Oh my god Sylus are you okay?”, you ask looking at his gauze wrapped wound. His hand is over it and you place your hand over his, concerned you hurt him. He chuckles and smiles.

“I’m fine, you are so easy”, he laughs and you roll your eyes. You grab the first aid kit and clean any supplies that you used. Sylus stands up to help you but you insist that you are fine. He puts his black tshirt back on and looks back at you.

“Really, thank you again for your help, for bigger wounds like this it takes longer to heal”, Sylus thanks you and you nod, putting the first aid kit back in its place in the nearby storage closet.

“No worries, but stop getting hurt so much, I may start charging you”, you joke and he chuckles while placing his hand behind his neck, following you out of the bathroom and into the living area.

“I don’t know if I should take your advice or see this as you only want to see me if I pay you. Either way, I am more than likely to be able to afford your services than to stop getting injured”, he says and your cheeks are painted a light pink at his words. What is with the flirtiness today? You are used to the nicknames and the teasing but he normally doesn’t keep going for this long. You decide to just play along.

“Don’t be so sure Mr. Onichynus, my service fees can be expensive”, you say as you grab your bag to leave. Your heart starts to race when Sylus grabs it before you can.

“Is that so?”, he says holding the bag and starts to walk towards you, slowly. You start backing up, step by step until your back meets a wall. Sylus looks down at your face, his body towering over you as you try to attach your body to the wall. He leans in closer, putting a hand beside your head to meet the wall. He is so close that one more inch your bodies would be touching. He leans down slowly and you can feel his breath on your ear and your neck. The sensation gives you goosebumps and your neck feels extremely sensitive.

“Name your price”, he says in a deep whisper and you feel like your legs are going to give out. Sylus has always had this effect on you. Everything he says, everything he does affects you. It drives you mad and you start to wonder if this is just playful banter or something else. Your body starts to feel hot and you know he heard you audibly gulp. You could almost feel the smirk he has on his face that's right next to your ear. You look up at him and you grab the bag from his hand. You try to shake off this intense feeling and move around Sylus. He could easily trap you with his arms and legs but he lets you go.

“Hmmm I’ll have to think about it, I’ll get back to you on that”, you say nervously and head towards the front door of his home. You don’t turn around to look back at Sylus and fumble with the front door knob until you finally get it open. Without a goodbye you exit through the door and rush to leave. You sprint to the first bus stop, not stopping to take a breath. What was that? Your body still feels hot and your skin is on fire. You can just imagine him gaucking right now, satisfied with his effect on you.

The bus arrives, you get on and swipe your bus card and take the nearest seat. You sit down and try to push down this hot and bothered feeling. You shake your head and look down at your phone to see you had a text from Sylus. Even seeing his name on your screen makes your heart drop, this has to stop.

Sylus: Meet me tomorrow at the boxing ring. I still owe you for today.

You pick your brain at his words and remember that he promised to help you pass your hunters training by showing you some defense moves in return for helping him so often with treating his injuries. You sigh and text him back.

You: Can we reschedule?

You wait for his response, you are unsure if you can see Sylus two days in a row. Especially after all the teasing and flirting today. Your heart can’t take it. Your thoughts put on pause when your phone buzzes.

Sylus: Sorry kitten, I have a tight schedule. See you tomorrow @ 6pm, don’t be late.

You sigh and lock your phone. No way in hell is this going to just be him showing you defense moves. You decide to do everything in your power to keep your distance from him during this training. How? You have no idea but you can’t fall into his little trap.

Once you get home you go straight to bed, thoughts of Sylus invading your mind. You toss and turn all night and you can’t sleep. Exhaustion hits you but your eyes stay wide open. Why does he have this pull on you? Why do you keep wanting to go to him? You know you shouldn’t, it would never work. Your brain and your heart have an intense battle throughout the night and you're unsure of who the winner is because you got a total of 2 hours of sleep that night.

Hearing the annoying tone of your alarm you groan. You sigh as you turn off your alarm, getting up to get ready for the day ahead. You pack your gym clothes, a long sleeve compression jacket and black leggings so your entire body stays covered. You don’t want Sylus to see you in your sports bra and small shorts, not because he will look or say anything but because you don’t want to have any effect on him whatsoever. He already flirts with you on a daily basis, you don’t want him to think you love it, even though you do.

You head to the hunters association and you get looks from everyone there. They can tell you are obviously tired and decide to let you just work on reports the whole day. You mentally thank them for the break. You type away at your computer when Tara decides to pay you a visit.

“Hey, you okay? You look exhausted”, she looks at you with concern. Her gaze is soft and attentive.

“Yeah just didn’t get much sleep last night”, you respond and she nods. She sits a coffee at your desk and gives you a small smile before walking away. You smile down at the cup and take a drink, hoping it will give you enough energy for this lesson later today.

As the day goes by, you clock out of work and head to Onichynus. You sigh as you ring the doorbell to Sylus’ home. Luke opens the door and gives you a small wave.

“Hey, you look horrible”, he says and you glare at him.

“Thanks, where is Sylus?”, you ask, walking past him and into the leader's home.

“The boss man is already in the gym warming up. He has been waiting for you”, he replies and you make your way to his at-home gym. Luke disappears down a different hallway as you enter the gym.

Sylus is already practicing with a punching bag in the corner of his enormous boxing ring. You walk into the room and he doesn’t notice you until you walk past him to make your way towards the changing room.

“You made it”, he says blatantly and you nod at him. You don’t say anything and head into the changing room to change into the outfit you packed. After changing you walk back out and onto the ring.

“Alright so what are we doing today?”, you ask him and he tilts his head to the side to look at you. He doesn’t say anything and you start to feel embarrassed.

“What?”, you ask him and he shakes his head.

“Are you okay? You seem tired”, he says with an almost concerned tone. You brush it off and then come up with an excuse.

“It’s just work was exhausting, it's fine, let's do this”, you say and put on your boxing hand gloves. He nods and then notices your outfit, he coughs and clears his throat.

“Uh, aren’t you going to get hot in that? I have some shorts you can change into if you want”, he suggests and you decline his offer.

“It’s fine, let’s just get this over with”, you say and you walk opposite of him on the ring.

“Are you sure? We can do this another day if yo-“, he says but you cut him off.

“I thought you had a tight schedule, less yapping and more teaching please”, you say with an annoyed tone. You know this is unfair to Sylus and you aren’t really annoyed with him. You are annoyed with yourself because just being around him like this is making your heart pound in your chest. You are physically and mentally exhausted from thinking about him so much. The sweeter and more concerned he is, the more you will have to stay here and you want to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Okay then”, he says and walks towards you. Just focus on the training and his advice, you try to remind yourself.

“So when you are trying to defend yourself you need to think of yourself as the predator not the prey.”, he says as he looks down at you, the feeling of his gaze makes your knees weak.

“Think like a predator, you need to know your prey's weakness so you know what and how to attack. But most importantly you need to know how to defend yourself when the prey tries to counter”, he speaks firmly as he leans down to meet your eyes.

“For example, my shoulder is still healing, size up your opponent, see what could make them falter because they will be doing the same to you.”, he says, grabbing your hand gently and placing it on his wounded shoulder.

“They will be trying to hide their weakness when they go to attack, you need to find an opening and strike while also defending your own weakness”, he says looking down at your feet.

He quickly uses his leg to knock you off your feet as you land with one of his hands on your waist and the other on the back of your head, protecting your fall. You gasp in shock of the sudden movement and he smirks as he examines your features. His face is extremely close to yours as he whispers. So much for keeping a distance, you thought to yourself.

“Never let them know your weakness, that's the best defense”, he whispers, his breath hitting your neck. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, nose, and back to his eyes. That familiar heat building inside of you makes your cheeks tint a light shade of red. You push him off of you and stand back up fixing your jacket. He joins you in standing and you don’t say anything in response.

“Alright now try to attack me and then try to defend using that advice”, he says and you nod. You put your fists up next to your face and bring your elbows toward your body. After a few seconds you walk toward Sylus and throw a few punches. He dodges all of them and then once he reaches the ropes of the ring, he decides to switch to offense.

He starts to move his arms towards you, at first you dodge all of his attempts but he quickly catches you from behind. His arm is firmly holding you over your chest just above your breasts. You try to pull his arm down at first but struggle because of his strength.

“Stop struggling and think, how do you get out of this”, he says calmly and you stop your movements. Trying to focus on your movement rather than you firmly in his arms and pressed against him. You take your elbow and shove it into his abdomen, he lets go of you and you turn around and start throwing punches again.

He dodges them again, tilts down and picks you up and over his shoulder using one arm. His arm is holding you by the back of your knees.

“Your opponent now has an advantage over you, how are you going to get out, think about their weaknesses”, he says. You can feel his calloused hands through your leggings. Your mind racing about the way he was man-handling you. You push the thoughts down and decide to lightly hit his shoulder, trying not to hurt him. His hands let go of your knees and you quickly wrap your legs around the back of his neck. Putting all your weight on him so he would have to bend down so you can jump off.

“Good job, now you're thinking”, he smirks and you laugh, you smile at his praise.

“Now try to take me down”, he says and you become determined to do as he says. Sweat is now dripping off both of you from the rising heat in the room and the intensity of the training. But that can’t stop you from proving to him that you can do this.

You lunge towards him and at first he dodges your swings but you finally get a punch in that barely affects him. He puts his arms up to defend and as soon as he does you use the same trick on him as he did with you earlier. You kick his legs to knock him off his feet, he falls down and you pin him down, both of your hands on his wrists, thighs on either side of his hips to straddle him so he can’t move, He doesn’t resist and stares up at you as his chest falls up and down rapidly, matching your breathing. Sweat drips off your forehead and onto his chest but neither of you care.

“Like that?”, you finally speak and he smiles.

“Yeah, just like that”, he says somewhat out of breath. You take the opportunity to admire his jawline, his beautiful crimson eyes and sweat beads slowly sliding down his neck. Your gazes linger for a moment before you pull yourself out of your trance.

You get off of him quickly and go to grab a water bottle. You stood up really quickly and suddenly got dizzy. Your vision blurs for a second and you feel your legs turn to jello. You almost fall but a pair of arms catch you before you could hit the mat.

“Y/n are you okay?”, Sylus asks frantically and sits you down gently.

“Yeah I just got a little dizzy”, you say and he stands up to quickly grab a water bottle and a towel.

“You didn’t seem okay earlier, I should’ve been easier on you.”, he says, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle and handing it to you.

“Thanks”, you say and start to drink the water.

Sylus watches you and brings the towel to your face and starts to pat the sweat dripping down your temple. He fans your face with his hand and you watch as you continue to drink your water. His face is full of concern and worry. Was he always this caring? He has never been this concerned before. Maybe he feels guilty for pushing you but you were fine until you stood back up.

“Thanks, I think I am fine now”, you say, putting the cap back on your water and looking at him.

“Here let me help you up”, he stands up and you grab his hands. You use his arms to support you, your legs still feeling like jello.

“I’ll take you home, sit down and I’ll go grab your bag”, he says and you nod, knowing that if you try to refuse he will rebuttal.

Sylus shortly returns with your bag in hand and he helps you stand again. You feel a bit better after hydrating but still feel shaky.

“Here, hold onto my arm”, he says and guides you to his garage and toward one of his luxurious sports cars. You mentally laugh thinking of course he has multiple of them.

He opens the door for you and helps you get in. He grabs the seat belt and buckles it in for you. The action makes your heart flutter, you don’t dare to look up at him while he does. He closes the door and sprints to the other side, he puts your address into the GPS and starts the ignition.

The car ride is quiet with the occasional “how are you feeling” from Sylus and you only nod and say you feel fine. He really didn’t have to drive you back home but you couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness. Does Sylus show this soft side to anyone else? He puts up this cold and intense front but he is actually very thoughtful and considerate. You ponder this the rest of the car ride until the headlights of his car meet the sign to your apartment complex.

“Let’s go, I’ll help you up”, he says unbuckling but you grab onto his arm frantically before he could get out of the car.

“Wait Sylus, really it's okay, thank you for giving me a ride”, you say and he freezes and looks down to where your hand meets his arm, You touch is gentle and goosebumps rise to his skin.

“Sorry”, you apologize and quickly remove your hand. You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag from the backseat of his car before reaching for the door handle to exit.

“Are you sure?”, he asks and this time you feel his hand grab onto yours. The feeling of his thumb slightly rubbing the top of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed. Your back is still turned to him, you haven’t turned around yet.

“I can just help you to the door, then I’ll leave”, he says and you feel it. You feel the ping in your chest, the yearn of wanting to say yes but your mind telling you to be rational and say no. Your heart wins, you turn to him and say a gentle okay.

He gets out of the car first and opens your door for you. He grabs your bag and helps out of the car. He locks your arm around his to support your somewhat still shaky body. You walk with him into the complex and make your way to your door.

“It’s right here”, you say pointing to your unit and he waits until you have put in your passcode and you step into your apartment before he says anything.

“Text me if you need anything at all. I hope you feel better, goodnight”, he says and turns around to leave before you can say anything. Your mind starts to race and before it can catch up you open your mouth.

“Sylus”, you say almost too urgently and he quickly turns around.

“What is it sweetie?”, he asks softly. His face looking for what you might say.

“W-would you.. um… stay with me?”, you ask and you can feel your heart start to race a million miles and minute. Why did you just ask him that? Why would he stay? For what reason? Before you can come up with an excuse, Sylus' body is towering over you once more.

“Is that okay?”, he asks and you slowly nod looking up at him with doe eyes. Your heartbeat doesn’t settle down, you turn around and walk into your apartment and you hear Sylus follow you and close the door behind him. What were you thinking?

“Uh, you can take a shower, I’ll find you some clothes to change into. Towels are in the cabinet”, you tell him, noticing he is still in his gym clothes and still sweaty. He nods and quickly makes his way into the bathroom.

You let out a strangled breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You make your way into your bedroom to find something that maybe sylus could wear. You could only find a pair of pajama pants that Caleb left here one time. You couldn’t find a shirt to save your life so the pants will just have to work. You hear the water turn off in the bathroom and make your way towards the door.

You knock gently, “Sylus here are some pajama pants, I couldn’t find a shirt”. Suddenly the door opens slightly and Sylus sticks his hand out for you to hand him to pants.

“It’s okay, I normally sleep without one”, he says and takes the pants from you and closes the door back to change. You aren’t going to make it through the night. You gather a pillow and a soft throw for Sylus and lay them on the sofa.

Sylus walks out of the bathroom and you have to hold yourself back from audibly gasping. The pants length is fine but they are a bit tight on him, especially around the thighs. His abdomen is toned and his chest and shoulders are broad. A few water droplets are still dripping down his skin. You avert your gaze quickly, trying not to stare. This isn’t the first time you have seen Sylus shirtless but something about him right now feels different. Shirtless in your living room and staying over. He didn’t even ask why.

“Uh, here is a blanket and a pillow, my sofa is pretty comfy.”, you smile and the edges of his lips curl into a soft smile.

“Thank you, are you feeling okay now?”, he asks. You honestly feel better, not knowing if it was the fact Sylus was staying over or if you genuinely felt okay now.

“Yes, much better.”, you smile and Sylus moves to the sofa and unfolds the blanket. He positions the pillow to one side of the sofa and lays down. You immediately see that his legs are way too long for it and hang off the edge from his knees down.

“Is that comfortable for you? I didn’t realize how small my sofa was”, you ask and he chuckles.

“It's fine kitten, go ahead and get some rest” he says, shooing you away with his hand and he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep. You laugh at his playfulness and head to your room.

You lay down and your bed and close your eyes, you try not to think about the fact Sylus is just in the other room. Why did you even ask him to stay? Why did he so- willingly? Was he really comfortable on the sofa? His shoulder is injured, it can’t be comfortable for him.

You feel guilty for making Sylus scrunching up on your small couch. You get out of bed and head back to the living room. Sylus was sitting up and scrolling on his phone when you opened the door. His eyes leave his phone and meet your gaze, confusion settling on his face.

“What's wrong?” he asks, locking his phone and setting it beside him.

“Um, you can come in here, if you want”, you say shyly looking at the ground, too embarrassed to look at him.

“Y/n I’m fine right here, don’t worry about me”, he replies and you take a deep breath. Of course he would say that, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable but honestly he wouldn’t. If anything it would give you peace of mind knowing his shoulder wasn’t hurting. You had to say the only thing that would convince him.

“I know but I- I want you to”, you say, your cheeks immediately burning and your body feels hot again. He stays quiet for a moment but slowly gets up and grabs the pillow you gave him.

You let him follow you into your bedroom. After he closes the door you watch as he walks to the other side of the bed. You get comfortable on your side and Sylus stops before simply sitting on the edge of the bed.

You know he is hesitant so you pull down some of the cover and tap the side across from you, he turns his head to your hand then meets your gaze.

“You can get comfy, I won’t bite”, you jab at him and he slightly scoffs. He lays his head gently on the pillow facing you and pulls the duvet over him slightly. Keeping his shoulders and chest exposed.

You both just look at each other for a moment in comfortable silence. He looks back and forth between your eyes and you admire his beautiful features. Before he could say anything you turned around facing your room.

“Goodnight Sylus”, you say just above a whisper, shutting your eyes. You don’t know if it was the sheer exhaustion from the previous night or sylus’ presence but you felt yourself quickly starting to drift into a slumber.

“Goodnight y/n”, he says softly and that's the last thing you heard before your dreams carried you away.

You feel a slight sensation against your cheek, it tickles almost and pulls you out of your dreamland. You gently open your eyes to see Sylus facing you. His hand placed a strand of hair behind your ear. He looks at you and his eyes widen and he quickly pulls his hand away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you”, he says softly and places his hand back to his side. The room is still dark, your eyes adjusting to the lighting so you can see him. It must me the middle of the night still.

Your brain is still foggy from just waking up. You look around and see your arm slung over his waist and your body pressed closely to his.

“Am I dreaming?”, you ask him and he chuckles softly.

“No sweetie, you aren’t dreaming”, he says softly and watches you closely. You don’t pull away from him, the feeling of his skin on your making you feel comfortable and warm. Being this close to him feels right, it feels safe. At this moment you let your heart win this final battle. You know this may not work out but how could you know if you don’t try.

“Sylus”, you say softly, looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, softer than normal, they are a gentle shade crimson red in the dark lighting of your room.

“Hmmm?”, he hums and you move your arm away from him to grab his hand. He looks down at your hand holding his and back to your gaze.

“I think, I think I am falling in love with you”, you say so softly he almost doesn’t catch it.

“What?”, he asks, eyes widening like you told him the most surprising news of the century.

“Can I kiss you?”, you ask bravely. It’s all or nothing. You prepare yourself for him to get up and leave you. You wouldn’t blame him because this came out of nowhere. But not for you, you can’t deny your feelings any longer.

He stares at you for a moment and cups your cheek with his hand. You close your eyes and nuzzle into his touch, feeling his thumb slightly graze your skin softly.

Before you could open your eyes again you feel his lips meet yours. His lips are soft and light almost like touching a pillow or freshly baked bread. He tilts his head to get better access to your lips. It’s not rushed, it's gentle and the passion starts to build despite the slow pace. You move your body closer to his and place your hand on his bicep. He tilts your head closer to his as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly as his tongue traces your bottom lip, begging for entry. You invite him in and your heart melts as the kiss begins to feel more hungry and passionate.

You move your hand down his bicep to his chest and slowly drag it down his toned abdomen. He breaks the kiss once you reach halfway down his body and he grabs your hand to still it.

“Y/n”, he says breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Sylus please, I need you”, you say almost too desperately. His eyes flutter open and they stare into yours for a few seconds. He kisses you again and lets go of your hand, letting you continue to touch him. His hand goes to the strap of your nightgown and slowly pulls it down your shoulder. This does nothing but expose your shoulder but it feels so intimate. He kisses your cheek and makes his way to your jaw, peppering soft kisses until he reaches your neck.

You place your other arm around his shoulder and tangle your fingers in his hair just above the nape of his neck. You gasp as he starts to suck at a sweet spot on your neck and gently licks over it, repeating this process making his way to your bare shoulder.

“You are so beautiful”, he says against your skin and your heart flutters. Listening to his sweet words makes you feel more comfortable with him. You decide to take it a step further and place your hand over his pajama pants. You can feel his hardened member and you palm him softly and Sylus nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Y/n”, he softly moans your name and you don’t let up on your touch. You feel him slightly buck up into your hand which only makes you feel more confident in your movements. You go to tug on his pajama pants when his hand stops you quickly.

“Are you sure? I only want to do this if you want to”, he says out of breath. You have never seen this look on Sylus before. His eyes full of desire and his cheeks a shade of pink you can’t even miss with the small shine of moonlight glowing in your room.

“Yes, I trust you”, you reply and he quickly shifts your positions. Sylus moves over you and helps you lay comfortably on your back. He pulls the other strap of your nightgown down and pauses to look at you. You nod giving him the go ahead to remove it. He slowly pushes the straps down and helps you remove the nightgown entirely, leaving you in only your cotton pink panties with a little white bow. Sylus’ breath hitches and he cups your face again.

“What did I do to deserve you?”, he asks softly and leans down to kiss you again. The kiss is full of longing and lust. His hands move down to one of your breasts. He gently cups it and starts kneading it causing you to lightly arch your back. The feeling of his hands finally on you makes your arousal start to form. He moves his lips back down to your neck and then to your chest where he lightly kisses your other breast.

You gasp and whimper as he takes your nipple into his both and slightly sucks. The feeling so euphoric you feel like it isn’t real, it couldn’t be.

You reach down into his pajama pants to feel him again. The feeling of your small hand brushing against him makes him groan around your nipple. You take his shaft in your hand and slightly stroke him, precum already leaking from his tip.

He stops his torment on your chest and lays his forehead between your breasts, letting himself bask in the feeling. He moans against your skin and you stroke his hair with your other hand.

He looks up at you and takes your hand away from him. He kisses back up your chest and onto your cheek. He interlaces your fingers with his in both of his hands, laying beside your head.

“I have waited for you for so long. I want to be your world, just like how you’re mine. I love you y/n”, he says looking down at you with pure love written all over his face. You can’t help but smile at his words and you trace his cheek with your thumb, he closes his eyes at the feeling.

“Show me how much you love me Sylus”, you whisper and his right eye seems to turn to a brighter shade of red. Before you could say anything else his lips are back on yours and he tugs his pajama pants down.

“You have been my every thought, every single moment since the day we met”, he says breathlessly as he kicks his pants to the floor. You moan at his confession and you go to tug your panties down but he catches your hands first. He moves them away and he slips his fingers underneath the hem and slowly pulls them down.

He takes a moment to look at you, completely bare in front of him. You start to feel embarrassed so you close your legs a bit, but Sylus quickly opens them back up.

“Don’t hide from me, you don’t ever have to hide from me”, he says and positions himself between your legs. He tugs your waist closer to him and holds himself up with his other arm. You can feel him against you and you can’t help but thrust up to get some friction.

“Are you sure y/n?”, he asks softly before kissing you on your cheek.

“Yes, please”, you beg and he complies. He positions his tip at your entrance and slowly inches in. The feeling of him stretching you out delicious makes all the nerves in your body rapidly fire. Goosebumps raise on your skin, feeling unbelievably full of him.

You feel him gasp at first and then groan at the feeling of you enveloping him. You pulse round him and he could almost cum right then at the feeling. He finally bottoms out at the hilt and lets out a sigh.

“You okay?”he asks, cupping your cheek and you nod.

“Yes, please move Sy”, you say and he groans at the new nickname.

He slowly pulls out just to the tip and thrusts back in with a bit more force and speed. Your body arches off the bed and he catches your back with his hand. He holds you in place as he starts to move, his thrusts consistent as he finds a rhythm.

You try not to be too vocal but you can’t help it with the way he is making you feel. He is everywhere, not only all over your body but he is always on your mind. Everything has led up to this moment, every banter, every flirty comment, every gentle touch and caring thing he has ever done. You want him, not only for tonight but forever.

“You are everything, absolutely everything”, he says leaning down to pull you back into a passionate kiss. You both moan against each other's lips as you feel him pick up the pace.

You can feel every drag, every bit of him along you and it's the closest you have ever been to anyone. This isn’t just sex its pure love. Nothing and no one has made you feel this way before. You felt loved and you felt safe.

“Sylus, I’m-“, you try to warn him but his thrusts start to get more desperate and needy, cutting your thoughts off.

“I know kitten, let go. Let me feel you, please let me feel you”, he asks desperately. The feeling of him everywhere and his lustful words bring you to your climax. Your back arches, your chest flush against his. You flutter around him, milking him consistently. Your head feels light and you grab onto his back and you ride out your high.

Sylus cums soon after, working you through your orgasm set him off. You feel him unload inside you, thickness and warmth invading you and the feeling euphoric. His face is resting in the crook of your neck and his breathing is heavy. His chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. You stroke his back and he slumps on top of you, beads of sweat formed on his skin.

“I should have said it sooner, and I'm sorry you had to say it first. But I love you, more than you know. Will you stay with me? Will you be mine?”, he asks looking back into your eyes. You smile and kiss the tip of his nose.

“Yes Sylus, I’ll be yours”

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

a/n: hhheeeyyyyy so I know I was supposed to post my Xavier fluff first but I couldn’t help it this smut was on my mind so I had to write it first IM SORRY!

Xavier will be coming soon I promise, I won’t let my fellow Xavier girlies down <3 Also how was banner pulls for you guys? I R1d all of the guys oops :P

[softsunnyy]

Its criminal that I'm not cuddling Luke rn (esp after the devils loss :( )

What I wouldnt give to just lay on his chest and listen to his heart while some mindless movie plays in the back

-🐥

no bc it took me way too long to finish writing this, but i really feel like it healed a part of my soul.

jesus, what i wouldn't give to see my sweet boy and tell him how well he did and how proud i am while i play with his curls. *Sigh*

anyway, those thoughts got me distracted while i was writing this, so if it doesn't make much sense, I'M SORRY.

your heart aches so much. It hurts to see Luke so stressed, trying to contain his frustration so he wouldn't take it out on you.

you still remember how you stopped breathing when you saw his body inside the net. It's like the world had stopped moving. Your ears were blocked, you couldn't even blink. You watched him get up, skate, leave, and come back, but your mind kept thinking about his pained expression, different from when the puck hit him, and different from the time he thought he'd injured his wrist. It's like he knows this is different. More serious.

and you wanted to run to see him, but your friends by your side stopped you, hugged you, tried to comfort you, to calm you, but their arms felt cold. Not like Luke's. So they didn't succeed, and you had to hold back your desire to go to him.

now you're living the results of that day, with Luke unable to play, having to watch games from home or going to the arena. And it's hard—it's so hard—because you can see on his face how much he wants to be there, helping his team and trying to make a difference.

you see him run a hand through his hair every five minutes, then slap his thigh when a play isn't going his way. His leg bounces up and down in anxiety, and you see him nervously bite his lip; a habit he'd lost a while ago with your help.

and you wanna help him, to do more than just rub his back or rest your head on his good shoulder. You wanna give him the world, heal his body, give him back the ability to play an entire game without tearing his shoulder apart, but you can't, and it makes you feel so frustrated and useless.

and Jack tries to help you, god, even Quinn. You know they've talked to him, trying to guide him through these days where things feel so heavy, where everyone feels guilt and frustration. But nothing works, you can see it. You see it in his tense shoulders, his clenched jaw, and his white knuckles. You see it even when he sleeps, having constant nightmares, tensing his body so much that the next day it hurts even more.

and so the days go by, and with them, the games too, until game 5 arrives, in Carolina, which means you two will have to watch it from home.

that day, your hands are shaking; you're nervous, so anxious. You want the team to succeed, not only because you know them and all the effort they've put in to get where they are, but also for Luke's sake. Because you know a loss will break him completely, and you don't think you can handle that.

when the game starts, the mood is excellent and the lead makes Luke smile, proud. But as it continues and the lead is lost, your sweet boyfriend returns to his serious, worried expression. And he's so attentive, analyzing every play, thinking about everything he would do differently, and all the mistakes they're making.

this time, he's too quiet, too tense. He doesn't even complain quietly when a penalty isn't called, and that makes you play with your fingers, unsure.

when the game extends to the first OT, you feel like you're gonna die, like you're gonna have a heart attack. And during the intermission, neither of you gets up from the couch. You don't even speak, both staring at the tv, trying to make the seconds pass faster.

it's in the second OT that things get more serious. And you wanna bite your nails, stretch your legs, anything, but instead you just stay still, staring at your boyfriend's back, who hasn't moved.

when that penalty is called, you feel a pain in your stomach, a hole in your chest. You have a bad feeling and you hope it doesn't happen. But when Aho scores the goal, the one that gives Carolina the win, you know that's what you felt.

the air became more tense, heavier. There's a loud silence, and you can see his eyes fill with tears in seconds. Tears that soon begin to slide down his cheeks as his hands try to dry them. And you see how he trembles, how he can't stop, so you decide to hug him.

Luke, who's usually so big, strong, confident. Who's usually the one who wraps his arms around you to make you feel safe. Who's always there to pick up your broken pieces and put them back together. That Luke threw himself into your arms, crying, his shoulders shaking with his small sobs.

you've never seen him like this, with his face buried in your chest, trying to hold onto your shirt. He's desperate, and you can only hold him in your arms, trying to give him the same warmth he always gives you.

and you try not to burst into tears when you hear him, when you see him reach his breaking point, finally exploding and letting out all the frustration he's been bottling up for so long.

you've seen his struggle, you've listened to him talk for hours about strategies and plans; about things he learned in practice or advice he's received from other professionals. You've seen his eyes light up differently when he thought about making the playoffs, and how everyone talked about him for a moment, about the Hughes who could be a hero this time.

you've been there every day, and you've seen him through both good times and bad, but you've never seen him like this, so hopeless, guilty, frustrated. Thousands of things are running through his head, thousands of images of moments that could have been different.

Luke has spent day and night wishing he'd moved in a different direction, at a different speed. God, wishing he'd been more careful.

he's spent days avoiding the media, the people who want to ask him about his health. He knows they'll ask him about that moment, and that they'll make him replay it, relive it in his head, and he can't do that, not again, not now.

so when Carolina wins, it was like a stab in Luke's chest, right where his guilt had been growing, making him suddenly feel like the world is about to end. Even though he knows it isn't. Even though he knows he'll be calmer in a few hours.

and you both know he has the right to feel bad now, after a cursed season, filled with injuries, effort, and people doubting them. Luke Hughes has the right to feel bad for once.

so you give him his space. You don't even know how many minutes have passed, but you can feel his breathing calming slightly, and his sobs slowly stopping, until finally his body stops being so tense and he decides to lift his head to look at you.

his red, swollen, and irritated eyes; his red nose; his bitten lips; and a look of pure and complete sadness. That's what you see in him at first. But you can also see the exhaustion, the guilt, and a little relief that at least this torture is over.

“you wanna go to bed, Lu? you don’t have to stay and watch the rest,” you reassured him, and though he seemed to hesitate for a moment, he finally nodded, silently moving away from your body so you could get up, turn off the tv, and extend a hand to help him up.

together, you walk to the bedroom, your steps slow and heavy, heavy with emotion. When you reach the bed, you think about lying down first, but he beats you to it, and you know that for today he needs to feel covered by you, by your warmth, to feel safe. So you lie down, your head on his chest and his arms immediately around you.

there was a moment of silence, where you both tried to gather your thoughts, not knowing what to say to each other, what to do, until you finally decided to speak.

"you know, this isn't your fault, Lu," you began, in a low, gentle tone, one of your hands caressing his chest. He sighs, staring up at the ceiling. "I know everything is so frustrating right now, but this wasn't your fault, Lu, and you don't have to take all the blame."

he knows you're right, and he knows that if he has to open up to someone, it's better if it's you, so he started talking for the first time in a while.

“i know, it’s just…” he sighed, “all i can think about is the things i would have done differently. What i would have done to be able to be there, to help in any way i could. We worked so hard…” his voice broke a little at that point, so he cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a moment to hold back the tears. “We tried so hard, when they stopped taking us seriously, when they thought that without Jack, we were lost…” he frowned at that thought, and you could feel his body tense, so you placed a couple of silent kisses on his chest, bringing him back to reality, making him relax a little. “We worked and worked to be better, to not repeat the mistakes from last time, but we kept coming back to the same thing, and it feels like everyone was right, and it’s so fucking unfair.”

you know that, of course you do. You spent days and days raging at the people in the media, at the commentators who kept showing the video of Jack's injury, talking about how essential he is to the team, and implying that without him it would be incredibly difficult for them to make it. Because of course, you know how important your boyfriend's brother is, but you couldn't understand why they were comparing them too. Why, when they talked about Luke, they had to compare him to Jack, or attribute his incredible talent and performance to his brother's absence. You couldn't understand it, and even though you tried to keep your anger at bay, now you know it also reached your sweet boy, and of course it got trapped in his mind.

it frustrates you so much to know that he thinks about it, maybe even constantly, and to know that right now it torments him, so you lift your head slightly, making him look at you, straight in the eyes, with a small pout on his lips.

“Luke, they’ll never be right,” you started, and your boyfriend could only listen, feeling how determined you were in your tone of voice. “It was a rough season, but the injuries and the struggles... hell, none of that is anything you guys could really control, and yet you pushed through, and you battled, and you dared to give it your all in these playoffs, even if it meant stretching this last game to two overtimes. You had everyone wondering what was going to happen because no one put up a bigger fight than you guys. And it sucks that you couldn’t be there now, but no one can ever question all the hard work you’ve put in because you’ve been the best for this team,” you said, sounding more and more annoyed, not at him, but at thinking about everything you’ve seen and heard.

and Luke listens. For the first time in these last few days, he really listens to you, feeling some warmth in his heart at how you defend him, even when no one's looking, and how you still feel proud despite the things that have happened. He feels grateful, even more in love, knowing that you're not judging him or making him feel worse, but that you're supporting him, lifting him up now when he needs it.

he looks at you with a very small smile, and when you realize it, you stop talking, realizing you'd started to vent, which made you blush a little, embarrassed.

"i´m sorry, but really, Lu, you were amazing, and even though you can't see it right now, you were so good, and you did so well. I need you to know that," you told him, this time in a calmer tone.

he feels things getting softer, and his head stops aching, his hands unconsciously beginning to caress you. You're calming him down, as you always do, with what he calls a superpower, but which is actually your ability to talk and say a thousand positive things about him without having to think about it too much.

he still feels frustrated and sad, but he listens to you talk about him, about his team, and it makes him feel calmer, accompanied. With you, he feels in a safe space, where he can vent and receive honest feedback. And although he knows his brothers tried too, with you it's different; this feels much better, much deeper, and then he understands that this is what he needed so much: to listen to you. To ask for your help.

so he lets you talk, to caress him, until after a while you both decide to rest and forget about tonight for a moment.

you let him choose a movie, and you see him put on one of his comforting choices, one of those he's seen a thousand times, but that always make him feel like he's in a safe and normal environment. And you know he won't pay any real attention, but the sound will keep him distracted for a while.

you rest your head on his chest again, and unlike before, you can feel his heartbeat much more relaxed, as it should be. His hand caresses your back, and then you allow yourself to sigh.

Luke isn't crying, and although his face still shows that he did, you know he feels better now. And these are going to be difficult days, you know it, but you also know that he's much more willing to talk about it with you, to stop being the tough Luke Hughes for a moment and be your sweet boy who sometimes also needs comfort and reassurance.

tomorrow he'll have time to continue worrying, to meet with the team, with the management, but now? he only needs you, so he clings to your body.

and he knows he can count on you, and that's why he feels like the luckiest person in the world. In your arms, he knows everything will be okay, so for tonight, he'll allow himself to forget everything.

thanks for being his safe space, is what he thinks before falling asleep

[the-librarby]

FANCY SEEING YOU HERE III

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

I heart girlhood and first kisses.

Part one Part two

It had been a month since that eventful first day, and Dante had gotten very comfortable in your presence. He dropped by with seemingly no rhyme or reason, every time you tried to assign him a case he would just wave it off. Apparently busy with other work.

Not only did he physically disturb your work hours, but he somehow got ahold of your work number.

When the landline rings, you pick it up without thinking, “Devil May Cry,”

“That’s it?” The voice crackles due to the poor speaker, “No, this is Y/N speaking, how can I help you?” A familiar voice mocks.

You lean back in your chair with a grin, crossing your leg over the other— you better get comfortable this is going to be a long call — and squish the receiver between your cheek and shoulder.

You hum, “Maybe you should be a receptionist, you’ve got the voice for it,”

“Oh yeah? What else am I good at?” The cocky grin is apparent in his tone.

You roll your eyes, “Being a pain in my ass,” your eyes flick to the clock display on your computer, “Aren’t you on a mission right now?”

Dante hums in confirmation, “I found some downtime, just to check in on you,”

Check ins, that’s what Dante liked to call this.

“I’m just as fine as I was yesterday, Dante,” you reply, “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you care about me, sweetheart,”

The rumble of his laughter over the speaker makes you inhale just a bit deeper, “Yeah, yeah caught red handed.”

You found it hard to navigate this dynamic with Dante. You expected the flirtatious conversations to die down but as you got more acquainted, if anything, it’s just amped it up. You’re certain it’s just the demon hunter’s nature, and not anything personal, which is fine by you. The last thing you need is to complicate this working relationship even further.

“You there, darling?” He questions, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You lean forward in your seat, moving the computer mouse to wake the screen back up, “Yeah, here,” you respond, “How’s the mission going?”

“So boring,” he complains, “Don’t make me talk about it, any plans tonight? Tell me it’s something fun,”

You laugh, “Going out actually,” you choose to ignore Dante’s dramatic gasp, “Calendar finally lined up, so I’m getting some drinks with some friends,”

Dante lets out the most wounded sound you’ve ever heard, “What! You never go out—”

“Not true!” You interject.

“—The one time you’re doing something fun and I’m not even there to see it!”

You frown, “Who said you would be invited anyway?”

Dante scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous, doll, of course I would be there,”

You hum in reluctance, “No, I don’t think so. Pretty sure I sent all the invites out already, guess yours got lost?”

“I find it funny that you think you could stop me from seeing you.” He assures.

You gaze up at the ceiling, shaking your head in disbelief. You turn in your office chair, now facing the window behind you, the cord follows and wraps around the chair.

“Guess you’ll just have to sit this one out then,” you sigh.

“I’ll find a way,” he hums, “Keep your phone on you.”

Even miles away you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched by him, a constant shadow over your shoulder. The sun is starting to set across the buildings outside, you search every rooftop and can’t find a single sign of a soul.

“Sure,” you spin back around to face your computer, “Better let you get back to your mission, I know you work so hard,” you coo.

Dante sighs, “Think of me when you go out tonight, alright doll? Because I’ll be thinking of you,”

“Goodbye Dante.” you fluster.

You hang the phone up with a click. In the silence of your office you groan, dragging your hands down your face is exasperation.

It was later in the evening when you stepped into the bar you were meeting your friends at. In the corner you can see them waving you over, a grin breaks out on your face. Cheers and greetings are shared, you can feel your shoulders relax. This was needed.

“I need a drink.”

Resounding agreements are met with your statement.

Time starts flying by, and you’re starting to forget what drink number you’re on but it’s fine, you got it handled. When you approach the bar, a guy next to you starts chatting. It’s polite and civil, he’s definitely cute, but when he starts pulling his phone out your mouth opens on autopilot.

“Oh, thank you, but no thanks,” you raise your hand placating.

The guy looks a little wounded— you grit your teeth in embarrassment— but doesn’t comment. Your friend punches your arm as he walks off, her eyes are widened.

“Why did you ditch him? He was so cute!”

You shrug, making your way back to your table, “I don’t know, wasn’t feeling it,”

Another girl chimes in as you sit down, “Wasn’t feeling what?”

“This cute ass guy just asked for her number and she shot him down!”

“Politely!” You interject.

The table is looking in your direction, one girl hums conspiratorially, “Someone we don’t know about?”

You choke on your drink, “No!” It’s not convincing, “No, there’s not,”

“Bullshit, your face is red! Who is it? Someone from work?”

The girl beside you tilts her head, “Your shady receptionist job? That would be interesting.”

Okay, so maybe your friends don’t know the full details of your job. It’s not because you don’t trust them, it’s just because this job is meant to be temporary, and honestly you don’t want them to worry about the people you work with.

Like Dante. Your heart pangs for a second at the thought of his name. That makes you pause.

“Oh my god, it’s definitely someone from her shady receptionist job,”

You automatically become defensive, “There’s nothing going on at work,” it doesn’t feel like you mean it, “I mean, nothing can happen anyway, it’s work,”

You shove down the sadness you feel saying that out loud, it’s not something you can deal with right now. When you look around the table you can see the sympathetic looks from everyone.

You groan and chug the rest of your drink, “Another round?”

You’ve definitely lost track of the amount of drinks you’ve had now. You’re laughing at every little amusing thing that comes across your path, and your friends laugh at how slurred your speech is. You’re just about to enter a different bar when your pocket starts to buzz.

“Wait,” you take a wobbly step back and dig into your pocket, “I gotta take this,” you murmur distractedly.

When your friends start to protest you wave your hand at them, “No s’fine, go in, I’ll be like, five minutes?”

You turn your back to them as they walk in, the phone in your hands looks a bit blurry and it takes you a couple tries to hit the accept button but eventually you get it.

“Hello?” You chime cheerily.

A chuckle rumbles through, “Just how drunk are you, doll?”

You frown, “Don’t,” you reply accusingly, “Don’t call me that, only Dante calls me that,”

“Really? He your boyfriend or something?” The voices teases.

You pout, “No, he’s—” you hum in thought, “Uh, a friend,”

Really, how else could you explain Dante to a stranger?

“You don’t sound convinced,”

His voice is deep, you muse, “What are you? A therapist?” A frown creases your eyebrows, “I definitely can’t afford that,”

The voice over the line laughs, it makes you feel warm, “Where are you?”

You scoff, “M’not giving my address to a stranger!”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

“Sweethea—” you gasp loudly suddenly, “Dante?”

“Bingo,” Dante laughs, it’s so familiar how could you not recognise it?

“Dante!” You repeat, in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are so gone,” he comments amusedly.

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement. Slowly, on unsure legs you walk over to the edge of the pavement to sit on the curb outside of the bar, “I miss you, where are you?”

Dante is going to tease the fuck out of you tomorrow for this. But right now you are not sound of mind to care, or even realise what you are saying. Sitting on the concrete beside a parked car, you watch as other drunken groups stumble and laugh up and down the street.

“On a mission remember?” He muses.

“Oh yeah,” you respond, fingers loosely holding your phone, “How is the mission?”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?”

Your response comes out quick, “If it keeps you on the line,”

The a brief choked noise and pause, you think you hear a quiet curse— fucking hell— in the background, but it’s drowned out by the traffic.

“Where are you?” Dante repeats.

“Huh?” You swing your head around, squinting your eyes at the bar sign out front, “Some bar, Night lounge or somethin’”

“I’ll meet you there,”

You laugh, “What? You’re like—” you wave your hand in gesture, “Somewhere far away,”

“Don’t move, got it?” He ignores your comment, “See you soon, doll.”

You barely say goodbye before the line ends. You stare at your phone in confusion for a moment, what did he mean? Your sluggish mind can’t fit the pieces together, so you shrug it off. Standing up, you dust off your outfit and make your way inside the bar. The girls are urging you to catch up, having missed out on a few rounds.

You completely forget about the phone call.

Hours later, you blearily look at your phone. The clock displays 2:00am. You push your way off the dance floor, leaving your friends behind. Everything is becoming stuffy and you need space, it’s a clumsy exit but you manage to shove your way out. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, you make one last shove this time accidentally hitting someone square in the chest.

“Sorry,” you slur, hands up in defence.

A bigger hand circle your wrist, the other hooking under your chin to tilt your head up, “Just the person I was looking for,”

Slowly you blink to take the man in, black fitted top, broad shoulders, and long silver hair. A grin breaks out on your face, “Dante!” You cheer drunkenly, wriggling your hands out of his grasp and wrap them around his neck. You feel his arms curl around your waist.

Your cheek is smooshed against the juncture of his shoulder and neck, “You made it,” your murmur, “How did you find me?”

Dante looks down at you quizzically, about to respond when you’re suddenly tugged back by your shirt.

“Y/N!” Your friend shouts, “You can’t just run off like that!”

She starts to apologise to Dante on your behalf, “I’m so sorry, she’s drank a lot tonight—”

You hiccup on your laugh, “Don’t apologise,” you poke hard at Dante’s chest, “This is Dante,”

Your friend frowns, “Dante…?”

“From work,” he supplies.

Your friend frowns, looking between the two of you. Dante’s hand is resting comfortably on the small of your back, your hand turning from an accusing point to a splayed hand on his chest.

She raises her eyebrow, “Dante,” she repeats, “From work,”

“That’s me, Dante from work,” he nods.

Another girl from your group comes up, “What’s going on?” She shouts.

She jabs a thumb in your direction, a grin now on her face, “This is Dante from Y/N’s work,”

She gasps, “The Dante?”

Dante’s now starting to feel confused, the two girls in front of him are scrutinising him in his spot. He smiles politely, and lets them look. You on the other hand, are completely taken by a wave of sleepiness. Unaware of the looks exchanged, you slump into Dante’s side.

“Need home,” you murmur.

Dante leans down, hovering closer to your face to hear better, “What?”

You groan at the movement, every shift welcomes a new wave of dizziness, “Need to go home,” you force out.

“Well, Dante from work,” your friend interjects, “Think you can handle this one?”

If you were sober, you’d be more aware of the current stare down that was happening. It’s more than a simple question, Dante was facing a test of loyalty right now, and honestly, it was kinda terrifying.

He answers without doubt, “Yes, I can handle her,”

You crack your eyes open when you feel warmth wrap around you, “Bye Y/N,” kisses are pressed to your cheeks, “Get home safe, and text me!”

You mumble your goodbyes, lots of I love you’s are exchanged before Dante wraps his arm around your waist and leads you outside. Once you step out into fresh air, you sigh. It feels so good to be outside.

“Alright, let’s get you home,”

You slump your head against his shoulder, letting Dante lead the way because your legs are not working right now.

“I wanna take my shoes off,”

“You can’t take your shoes off,”

You cry worriedly, “Are they glued to my feet?”

Dante looks down at your frantic face, shaking his head, “No, we’re walking home, you can’t take your shoes off right now,” he clarifies.

You sigh in genuine relief, the split second reality of not being able to take your shoes off outweighs the minor pain they’re giving you for now.

“Would you cut my feet off if they were actually stuck?” You wonder aloud.

Dante frowns, “No, I would not cut your feet off,”

You tilt your head, “How would you get them off then?”

Dante is unsure of the direction of this conversation, he knows you’re just rambling but the accusing look in your eye makes him think you’re not going to let this go.

He sighs, “Cut them?”

You gasp, “But these are my favourite!” You kick your feet up as to show them off, but you start to topple backwards from the sudden weight shift.

Dante easily swings forward until you’re straightened up again, “I don’t know,” he hums, “Guess I would have to force them off, they’d have to unstick at some point.”

You smile, satisfied at his answer. The streets are starting to get a little quieter as you walk away from the bars, it’s nicer like this, you can hear the cars driving past and a quiet ringing in your ears from the loud music earlier.

Dante’s mind floats back to what your friends said, “Do your friends know me?”

You hum questioningly, thinking back over the blurry events of tonight. After the phone call you went back in the bar, your friends were sitting at the table urging you to catch up on drinks. No wait, something before that.

“Who were you talking to out there?”

“Dante,” you answer simply.

“Dante?” They emphasise, “Who is Dante?”

You shrug, “From work? He’s so annoying,” you roll your eyes, “Keeps calling me all sorts of names, doll, sweetheart, my love,”

While you’re rambling your friends eyes widen, the whole table shocked at the revelation you’ve just spilled.

“Y/N, my darling,” you scrunch your nose, “You know he likes you, right?”

“What?” You scoff, “That’s impossible,”

“Why?”

That made you pause. Why was it impossible again? Something about boundaries and lines interfering.

“Oh my god!” Hands slam on the table, “It’s him! The guy that nothing can happen with!”

Gasps resound around the table, but your head is spinning. Before they can ask you anymore questions you head for the bar.

“You’re the guy,” you say.

“The guy?”

You huff, waving your hand, “The guy,” you emphasise, “From work, where nothing can happen, because you’re from work,” you tag on the end, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Now Dante can read between the lines. In this case, the line is very obvious in your oversharing confidence. A line that should not be discussed right now. He knows. Your apartment building is coming into view, Dante recognises the familiar entrance steps and railing.

“Something you want to say to me, darling?” It’s cruel to ask in your state, but he can’t help it.

You stop abruptly in your path, Dante looks down at you as you turn to him, a determined look pinning your facial expression.

“Yes,” you accuse, stepping closer, “How dare you,”

Dante smirks, “How dare I what?”

You point a finger waving it between him and yourself, “Act like this,” you gesture, “You’re not my partner,”

The drunken words are not eloquently said, but he understands. He steps closer, you tilt your head up to continue facing him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, suddenly serious.

You frown, “This is so not fair,” you reach your hands up to cup his face, “You can’t look at me like that,”

Dante would put money down to see what you see in him right now, “What do I look like?” He whispers.

Your thumb grazes gently under his eye, “Not how a friend should look at me,”

He glances down at your lips, “Will you forgive me in the morning?”

His abrupt question confuses you, “For what?” You smile in amusement.

Without warning he leans down, causing your hands to slide down to the back of his neck. Your eyes widen in anticipation, he pauses close to your face, giving you a chance to back off.

“I swear if this is a sick joke, I’ll kill you Dante.” you promise.

Hands grasp your hips, tugging you flush against chest. Seconds later, Dante’s lips are on yours. It’s gentle, is what your foggy mind can comment on. Your hands reach up into his hair, gently curling into the strands, him groans in response with deepened the kiss. One of your hands travels down his chest, feeling for the hem.

Before you can get your fingers underneath, you feel the world spin before your back hits something hard. The kiss breaks, and when you open your eyes and look around you can see you’re leaning against the brick all of your apartment building.

Dante’s heavy breathing matches your own, he shakes his head with a smile, “It’s time for you to go to bed,”

You ignore him, tugging him closer by the loops of his belt. He moves forward without a fight, you lean up to kiss him once more. Dante feels weak in this moment, he can’t say no, not when your fingers are curled around his pants like that. When your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, there’s only a warning hum. A cautionary, don’t. With a smile against his lips, you breach under, letting your finger tips glide over his hipbone. You don’t get much further until a hand grasps your wrist.

“You’re breaching out of bounds territory,” Dante warns.

You grin, wriggling your fingers that are still trapped under his shirt, “Let me in,”

Dante smiles in amusement at your boldness, “No,” he counters.

Your mouth drops in shock, as if not expecting that response, “You’re so mean,”

His hand drags yours out, “You already knew that,” he winks.

You pout, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. Your slightly smudged mascara affects Dante in a way he didn’t know could, his thoughts are starting to drift too far. Thoughts of you in this outfit, on your knees on your bedroom floor, choking around—

He blinks the thoughts away. He needs to stop this.

Gently he tugs you off the brick wall, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment entrance. Getting the hint, you fish out your keys.

You look at him one last time, “This is real right? I’m not imagining it,”

Dante chuckles, “I would be a fucking fool to pass you up,” he leans forward for one more chaste kiss, his hand cups your face, “Text your friends that you’re home, before they think I killed you,”

You laugh, “I will,”

He leans again, finding it hard to part from your lips but he manages to pull away one last time, “Call me in the morning?”

You hum, leaning against his hand as you peek your eyes open, “Afternoon okay? I’ll definitely feel like shit tomorrow morning,”

Dante smiles, “Deal.”

[bucketofdeltav]

Listen... listen I want so hard to argue the dork ass home-schooled losers line

I do

But I am so much the wrong person to do that because uh

I was homeschooled

I was a dorkass loser who wrote fanfic instead of having friends because friends were devastating and hard and secretly hated you and fanfic was devastating and hard but not-so-secretly loved you

And uh

I had that haircut

Exactly that haircut

Yes

That one

For years

Roughly ages 15 through 22 if anyone wondered

My mum tried to stop me but only succeeded in getting me to untie the nerftail and comb it in occasionally for like church and stuff

Because I figured out how to cut my own hair so I just... did that

It's surprisingly easy to maintain

I grew the braid from scratch instead of starting from long hair like some people do, so yes I too went through the dorky braid-too-short stage

There's footage of me on national TV with that haircut

And uh

I am at least nominally a girl

I also wanna note I grew up in bogan country so I'm confident in my assertion that Obi-Wan’s AotC hair is NOT a mullet.

(I got a buzz cut when I finished my bachelor's degree. I still have the braid in a box somewhere and I still tug the place where it was when I'm thinking.)

And also apparently I was at least theoretically fuckable because I got hit on at work a lot which is how come I have ecopies of literally every Star Wars novel published before the buyout, because that was the stock boy's idea of flirting with a girl who, I cannot stress enough, deliberately had That Haircut.

It was silly! and I looked like a nerd! and I regret Not. ONE. Single. Second. of that time. Best haircut. But I'm a Knight now and working towards being a Master (I'm back in grad school) so I can't have that anymore

in defense of padawan haircuts: do ewan and hayden both have lovely hair that is part of what makes them ever so beautiful? yes. but padawans are monks in training so they're not supposed to be fuckable treats for the eye. they have funky hair that marks them as members of their order!! awkward, uncool, unlovely haircuts that make them look like dork ass home-schooled losers. their silly braids advertise the length of time they've studied as a proxy for their deepening commitment to the order and mastery of the jedi arts!! they have a stubby lil nerf tail because it's traditional and tradition is sometimes awkward (and idk some cultures actually enjoy hair in that style!! they're not supposed to look like usamericans maybe) and like.. the order also maybe doesn't want its baby jedi to be fashionable trend setters with glossy flowing locks for good reason!! look what happened when anakin was too pretty!! he was so fuckable it broke the system and ruined his life and the entire fuckin galaxy, maybe the council should have made his haircut worse. his hair should have been so deeply tragic it distracted padmé from his sharp jaw and pouty lips. obi-wan should have completely nuked his charisma stat from orbit before shipping him away to naboo (his game was already terrible, so he was halfway there!! just make him terrible to look at too!!) sexy hair needs to be earned with knighthood, once they know you're truly committed to the jedi way. curls and mullets are a privilege not a right!! the padawan haircut is like training wheels for non-attachment, like.. leave them alone!! their brains aren't done cooking yet. their hair is so bad it's good, just like the prequels ok. i'm bleeding out on this hill but you. Cannot make me leave

[theskywithin]

There’s More to the Houses Than You Think

Twelve Doors Into the Soul’s Memory

✨ Author’s Note: In my first book, I explored the birth chart through a classic, psychological lens, grounded in human experience and practical meaning. But the more I worked with astrology, the more I began to hear the voice of the soul beneath the structure. This post is a glimpse into the second book I’m now writing, one that deeply explores the chart from a soul-centered perspective. Together, both books offer two sides of the same truth: one helps you understand your human path, the other guides you through your soul’s remembering. I hope you like it ✨ Stay Tuned! 🪐

✦ First House

The 1st House is the starting line of the soul, the moment your essence chose to return. It’s the place where you re-entered the world and agreed, once again, to exist in form. This house shows both where and how you began this life, where you landed, and how you chose to appear. The sign on the cusp describes the energetic style you needed to embody in that first breath, not just physically, but spiritually. It holds the imprint of your earliest instinct: the moment your soul said, “I am here.” But this isn’t necessarily your truest self. It’s the version of you that could survive the landing. The shape you had to take. The armor you wore before you were safe enough to soften. The way you moved before you were ready to feel. From a soul perspective, the 1st House is not just a mask, it’s a memory. A memory of separation. Of stepping out of the infinite and into a single identity. Of agreeing to be seen even when you didn’t yet remember who you were. This house carries the imprint of your karmic threshold. The edge you crossed when you said: “I’ll try again. But this time, I’ll begin like this.”

✦ Second House

If the 1st House is the moment the soul says “I am,” then the 2nd is where it asks, “Can I stay?” This house is the soul’s relationship with presence, permission, and permanence. Permission to take up space. Permission to trust the body. Permission to receive without proving you’ve earned it. From a soul perspective, the 2nd House carries the imprint of embodiment, not just living in a body, but belonging to it. Feeling your feet on the ground. Knowing you are allowed to have needs. Choosing to build something slow even after lifetimes of instability or survival. The sign on the cusp and the planets in it show the test your soul willingly walked into. The environment it chose to re-enter in order to unlearn what it once believed was true. Perhaps that safety must be earned. That stillness is dangerous. That having too much leads to loss. That value comes from sacrifice. This house becomes the field where you rewire those beliefs, slowly, gently, in real time. Not to become better. But to come back to yourself. The 2nd House is about what you slowly allow yourself to trust. It asks you to come back into the body not just as a vessel, but as a place worth living in. And to remember that you don’t have to earn what’s already yours.

✦ Third House

This is where the soul wakes up to thought, perception and meaning. The 3rd House holds the soul’s first real conversation with contrast. This is where the world begins to contradict itself, where things stop being simple, and start being interpreted. Here, the soul is surrounded by complexity: early voices, rapid thoughts, competing beliefs. A fast-moving environment of influences that don’t always align. And from that confusion, something begins to form: a personal narrative. A structure. A system of thought, not always true, but deeply familiar. This house holds the tone of your inner voice, the one that speaks when no one is listening. The one that loops. The one that learned early how to make sense of noise. From a soul perspective, the 3rd House is about mental awakening through contradiction. The environment the soul chose to sharpen perception, to question the obvious, to learn how to separate pattern from truth. And the sign on the cusp shows how you process complexity: whether you organize it, absorb it, filter it, challenge it, or whether you’re still learning how to quiet the echo of thoughts that were never fully yours. This isn’t about speaking clearly. It’s about thinking clearly in a world that taught you to do the opposite.

✦ Fourth House

The 4th House is the energetic basement, the root system of the chart. From a soul perspective, it’s about what you carried in with you. This is where the soul stores emotional memory, the deep, quiet kind. Not memory in words, memory in feeling. A kind of energetic USB, holding all the data your body doesn’t remember, but your nervous system never forgot. Here lives the imprint of lifetimes: The ache of having been abandoned. The fear of being invisible. The longing to be held or the decision to never need holding again. This house tells you what still lives inside you from where you’ve been. It holds the climate of your inner world, your unconscious reflex to retreat, to protect, to collapse inward. And the sign on the cusp shows how you manage that emotional archive: whether you wall it off, wrap it in softness, bury it deep, or try to clean it until it disappears. The 4th House isn’t about the home you have. It’s about the home you are. And whether your soul feels safe enough to return to it.

✦ Fifth House

The 5th House is where your soul came to feel light again. This is the part of you that remembers life isn’t just a test. It’s a vacation for the soul. A rare chance to taste strawberries. To dance in sunlight. To kiss someone and not overthink it. To create something beautiful that doesn’t need to prove its worth. From a soul perspective, this house isn’t about performance. It’s not about winning, competing, or collecting praise. It’s about returning to the childlike part of you that once knew how to love boldly, express honestly, and play without wondering who was watching. It’s about presence. About sensation. Because the soul didn’t just come here to evolve, it also came here to experience. The body you live in is a suitcase you brought along to feel everything this life has to offer. The five senses are how your spirit stays grounded in the beauty of being here. This house resists the noise of modern life, the comparison, the urgency, the pressure to always be doing. Here, your soul detoxes from all that. It remembers that joy is not a reward. It’s a right. The sign on the cusp shows how you reclaim that joy: with music, with movement, with curiosity, with warmth. This is about being alive. Present. Sensing. Free. The 5th House is where your soul says: “This is what you came for. Don’t forget to enjoy it.”

✦ Sixth House

The 6th House is where the soul learns how to stay in the body, in the moment, in the motion of daily life. This is not the house of fixing. It’s the house of tending. Of showing up not to perfect yourself, but to care for yourself and the world around you, bit by bit, breath by breath. From a soul perspective, this is where devotion becomes embodied in the way you pour your tea. In the way you care for your nervous system. In how you meet your own needs without shame. This is also where the soul learns how to cooperate with other souls. To walk beside people, not ahead of them, not behind them. To contribute, to support, to serve out of remembrance that you came here together. It’s not about sacrifice. It’s about shared rhythm. About learning how to move in harmony with life, with others, with the version of yourself that needs patience, not pressure. The sign on the cusp shows how you offer your presence: with structure, with softness, with discernment, with sensitivity. The 6th House doesn’t ask you to do something grand. It asks you to do something real. To tend. To stay. And to remember that even the smallest acts, done with care, can become a form of light.

✦ Seventh House

The 7th House is where the soul meets its mirror. Not to find a missing piece but to realize it was never missing at all. This house holds the space where “I” becomes “we.” But from a soul perspective, it’s not about finding the one. It’s about seeing what gets reflected when you stand close to another. What you admire. What you fear. What you hand over without realizing it was yours to begin with. The 7th House is not about romantic endings. It’s about recognition. A place where the soul enters into relationship not for comfort, but for integration. To reclaim the parts of itself it once projected onto someone else. This is where connection becomes a kind of soul work. Where love becomes the mirror that shows you your strength, your shadow, your softness, your patterns. Where you learn that intimacy doesn’t mean merging. It means choosing, again and again, to stay present with another soul while still staying whole. The sign on the cusp reveals how you relate and what you’re still learning to own within yourself. It may show the kind of energy you look for in others because you haven’t yet allowed it to live fully in you. From a soul lens, this house isn’t about losing yourself in someone else. It’s about finding yourself through the act of meeting them. And it asks only one thing in return: Let the mirror soften you, not define you.

✦ Eighth House

The 8th House is where the soul goes to burn. Not in punishment, in purification. This is not the house of endings. It’s the house of unraveling. Of shedding what no longer fits. Of releasing what was never truly yours. From a soul perspective, the 8th House holds the energy of karmic entanglement. The bonds that don’t make sense, but feel ancient. The grief that shows up without a story. The power dynamics you didn’t choose but somehow repeat. You don’t need to understand them. Your soul remembers. And it came here to transmute. This is where the deepest work happens, where silence becomes a language and what’s hidden begins to rise. Shame, obsession, longing, control, all surface here, not to hurt you, but to free you. The 8th House is also where the soul learns to merge without disappearing. Where intimacy becomes ritual. Where sex becomes more than flesh, it becomes a form of soul-speak. A way for two beings to share memory through the body. To move energy. To say, “I see you,” without needing words. To feel truth move between skin and spirit. And the sign on the cusp reveals how you enter this transformation, with intensity, fear, silence, trust, hunger, or resistance. But no one leaves this house the same. Not because something is taken but because something false is burned away. The 8th House is not about death. It’s about what survives it. It’s where your soul walks into the fire, and walks out whole.

✦ Ninth House

The 9th House is where the soul looks up. After everything it’s lost. After everything it’s survived. This is where the soul wants to understand. From a soul perspective, this house holds the pull between escape and awakening. It’s the restless urge to go elsewhere and the deeper invitation to see more clearly right here. This is the soul’s classroom. Not one with walls, but with windows. Here, it learns through instruments: through books and myths, rituals and ruins, distant lands and quiet teachers. Through every story that feels strangely familiar. Every culture that reminds you how similar we all are even when we speak in different tongues. Because in this house, truth isn’t singular. It’s layered. It speaks in symbols. It repeats itself across continents, scriptures, centuries. The soul doesn’t want one belief, it wants a constellation of meaning. A high enough view to see the thread connecting everything it’s been through. The 9th House is the soul’s desire to stretch. To grow through experience, not theory. To learn that every story you encounter, every road you walk, every truth you translate, is just another version of the lesson you came here to live. And the sign on the cusp shows how you seek that wisdom: with fire, with humility, with openness, with doubt. This isn’t about certainty. It’s about faith without finality. Wonder without walls. It’s where your soul remembers: There are many names for the divine but the lesson is always the same.

✦ Tenth House

The 10th House is where the soul emerges from the quiet. From all the internal work, the shedding, the seeking. This is where it asks, “What am I here to give back?” Not for applause. Not for recognition. But because the truth it holds has ripened and it’s time to offer it. From a soul perspective, this house is not just about legacy. It’s about alignment. The moment when your outer life begins to reflect your inner wisdom. When what you’ve carried for lifetimes finally meets the moment it can be received. This is the house of sacred visibility. Where your presence teaches. Where your lived truth becomes a light for others. It’s not about being above them, it’s about speaking from where you’ve been, so those still on the path can hear something familiar and remember their own strength. Imagine this house as a conference room of souls. You are the speaker now. Not because you’re better but because you’ve lived the lesson. And others came here to learn what you now hold effortlessly. You’re not here to perform. You’re here to pass it on. And the sign on the cusp reveals how you lead, with quiet authority, creative truth, steady devotion, visionary insight. The 10th House doesn’t ask you to become something you’re not. It asks you to embody what you already are and trust that when you do, the world will feel it. Because your greatest impact isn’t what you build. It’s what you leave behind in others once you’ve spoken your truth.

✦ Eleventh House

The 11th House is the house of resonance. Not popularity. Not fitting in. But finding the ones who recognize your frequency and say, “I remember you.” This is where the soul steps beyond the self into the field of shared vision, collective growth, and cosmic collaboration. From a soul perspective, the 11th House is where you meet the people you’ve been carrying in your field for lifetimes. The ones you made promises to before you got here. The ones who arrive not to mirror you, but to build with you. It’s the space of soul contracts, both old and new. Where energy introduces itself before names do. Where something inside you softens because, finally, you’re not dreaming the future alone. The 11th House is also the place of the next horizon. Where you stretch toward something bigger than yourself. A vision. A mission. A frequency you can only hold fully when you're surrounded by others who feel it too. It’s not about belonging to the crowd. It’s about finding the current you belong to. And choosing to move with it. The sign on the cusp reveals how your soul connects: with rebellion, with devotion, with innovation, with care. And how you magnetize the ones who are meant to walk beside you, not because you try to be like them, but because you finally dared to be fully yourself. This is the house where the future begins in soulful company.

✦ Twelfth House

The 12th House is not where things end. It’s where they unravel. Where names fall away. Where roles dissolve. Where you remember: You are soul, not skin and bones. This is the soul’s secret room, its sanctuary, its silence, its soft return. From a soul perspective, this house is a spiritual echo chamber where your truth speaks, not in words, but in symbols, dreams, and knowing. A language not made for logic, only for those who remember how to feel without needing proof. Here, solitude becomes communion with the unseen. Stillness becomes prayer. Surrender becomes the softest kind of power. You don’t always know what’s healing here but something is. Quietly. Behind the curtain of the conscious mind. The 12th House holds the energies you carry without knowing. The karmic threads, the ancestral dreams, the emotions that don’t seem to belong to this life, but live inside you all the same. And the sign on the cusp shows how you listen. How you retreat. How you dream, dissolve, and disappear. This is not a house of isolation. It is a place of return. A whispered reminder that before you were anyone, you were everything.

🔍 Decode your chart from the inside out. My first book is a deep dive into how your mind, identity, and behavior are written in the stars.

[back2bluesidex]

Slippin' Under - JJK (18+) [Part 3]

Pairing: Bully!Jungkook X Fem!Reader ft. Jimin

Theme: angst, toxic workplace settings, bullying, class difference, haters to lovers au

Word count: 1k+

Summary: "You're toxic, I'm slippin' under"

Warnings: workplace bullying, insulting the reader based on her social stature, class difference, Jungkook is a shit.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

A/N: here we go. also, taglist requests are closed for now.

Previous | Next [Patreon]

Sometimes you think, Park Jimin doesn’t walk, he flows. 

There’s a simplicity in his presence that demands attention, that is overpowering. His easy smile, fluffy but pleasantly styled blonde hair, his full lips, his moon crescent eyes - he has the power of making people fall in love easily. 

Maybe that’s a part of why you developed this teeny-tiny crush on him. 

You don’t expect to see him during this hour at all - but you didn’t expect yourself to work this late either. Even though you should have been prepared and you should be grateful that Jeon Jungkook decided to make you pay for his expensive suit by making you overwork and not by docking your pay. 

Jimin knocks on your desk making you tear your eyes away from the computer. Your eyes go momentarily wide as you realize it’s Park Jimin himself. You scramble to get up and bow in respect, “Mr. Park, good evening.” 

Jimin chuckles sweetly, placing his hands inside his pockets. The sound makes warmth bloom inside your chest. 

“Good evening, Y/N. But why are you still here? You should have left for home hours ago.” Jimin places his question. 

“I need to complete reviewing these files within today… so yeah.” you reply honestly. 

Jimin downcast his eyes on the pile of the files, “and when were you assigned with these?” 

“After lunch today.” there is no need to hide anything, this is not your fault. Typically, by company rules, employees can not be assigned with new work post-lunch, unless absolutely urgent. 

And these files - these aren’t due for next two weeks. 

“These aren’t urgent, are they?” Jimin’s eyes now meet yours. There's a question and there’s also understanding in his kind, brown orbs. 

“No,” you look at your hands now. 

“Okay. You can leave for the night.” Jimin says with finality. You know this should be it. Technically, Jimin serves at a higher position than Jungkook. If half of the company is on Jungkook’s mother’s name, then the other half belongs to Jimin’s father. 

It’s not a secret that Jimin and Jungkook are cousins. Everyone knows how their father and mother (who are cousins as well) brought up the kids together. There’s only one thing that goes beyond your understanding, that is - if Jimin and Jungkook grew up together then how can Jimin be the sweetest creature on earth and Jungkook is just the polar opposite? 

Jimin snaps his fingers before your face and only then you realize you zoned out earlier. 

“Y/N, you heard me?” Jimin questions, the slight hint of concern in his voice makes your heart swell. 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Park. but I- this won’t take much time. I can complete these within an hour. I can go home after that.” you don’t like to admit but pissing off Jungkook anymore than you already have doesn’t seem like a good idea. 

“It’s 9 at night.” Jimin’s voice turns a little authoritative now, “stop working and wait here till I come back.” he orders, you only nod. 

He leaves you at your place and disappears towards Jungkook’s room.

You hear footsteps again as you are packing your things up. When you look up expecting Jimin, your eyes meet with Jungkook’s first. 

As always, his eyes bear more disgust than your entire body can gather. 

“Y/N” Jimin calls your name, you divert your attention to him, “Jungkook will drop you home.” 

What? What? Your throat constricts before you can protest. Jungkook continues to glare at you. 

“I- Mr. Park, I don’t need a ride. Buses and the subway run till midnight. I can manage on my own.” you manage to say when the initial shock is over. 

“Jungkookie mistook these files as urgent. He should have checked thoroughly before making you work overtime. It’s his fault, so he should be the one to take the responsibility.” Jimin defends his brother with a smile. You very well know that Jungkook didn’t make any mistake - it was very much intentional but there’s no point in saying anything now.  

“Mr. Park, that’s alright. I can-” you try your hardest to get out of the situation. There’s no way you would like to spend an additional thirty minutes near Jeon Jungkook’s vicinity, that too, inside the confinement of his car. 

But Jungkook cuts you off. 

“Let’s go, it’s getting late.” his words slip out of his mouth casually, but you can feel the hint of anger lingering in those. 

“That’s fixed then. Good night to both of you.” Jimin claps his hands together. For a moment you feel like he is celebrating your certain demise. If you come out of this car ride in one piece, that’s going to be astonishing indeed. 

“I can’t believe, I am giving you a ride.” Jungkook’s voice pierce through the silent, stale air of the parking lot. 

The heels of his expensive shoes clink against the cemented floor - you follow him closely behind. 

“Mr. Jeon, you can drop me at the nearest subway station.” you suggest. 

Jungkook stops in his tracks. 

“Why? Want me to get scolded again?” he turns to face you, “you bitched about me, didn’t you?” 

“I only answered the questions he asked.” you reply.  

Jungkook takes two dangerous steps towards you, “you- don’t try to outsmart me. Just because you have hyung’s preference, I am not going to hate you any less.”

You don’t reply. There’s nothing to reply. 

Fortunately enough, the car ride is silent and peaceful. 

There are only a handful of times when you have had the opportunity of sitting in a private car but anything you have ever rode, don’t come near to the experience that Jungkook’s car brings to you. 

The car is spacious, there are a thousand different controls on the dash, the small screen shows your address, the seat feels way too comfortable under your back and butt. You feel like you could sleep here for hours. 

No matter how much you try to stay awake. The soft humming of the engine lulls you to sleep. 

Sounds of loud car horns bring consciousness back to you. 

The first thing you see is Jungkook’s face with a lewd smirk painted on it. 

“I bet you never rode this kind of car in your entire life. It’s more comfortable than your bedroom isn’t it?” he throws one of his usual insults towards you, but you don’t feel bad. Mostly because there’s nothing wrong in his statements. 

You sigh, a sad smile stretches on your face, “You are right. Your car is definitely more comfortable than the room I share with my parents. Thanks for the ride. This is probably the best I have slept in a while.” 

You expect Jungkook to laugh loudly, laugh at your misery, at how different you are from him. But nothing returns other than silence. 

When you pull your eyes up, you see him staring at you - the usual heat of anger and hatred missing this time. 

“And you are okay with it? Okay with not being able to afford what others can?” he questions, inquisitiveness clear in his voice. 

“All of us lack something. I am okay with lacking social status, money or that affordability. I can always work to build it on my own. I have a family, both of my parents are in good health. And I think that’s enough to be grateful for.” you grab your bag, “thanks for the ride, Mr. Jeon.” clicking the door open, you shut it behind. Only to find your mother standing out of the broken gate of your home. 

“Ddal, whose car is this?” she asks. It fills you with dread. Jungkook can insult you as much as he wants, but not your parents. 

Your mother’s sweater has several holes in it, her dress bears a big black spot from her work at the factory. You can’t let him see her like this. You can’t-

“Eomma-” your voice gets cut with a loud thud of the car door being closed. 

“Eomonim” Jungkook walks from the other side of the car and comes to stand right beside you. There’s no mockery in his clear voice. 

He bows in half in greeting. 

“I am Y/N’s colleague at work. My name is Jeon Jungkook..” when he straightens up, you see him grinning wide. 

Your breath stops. 

Is it- is it really the Jungkook you know?

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[httpsdana]

Hi girl! Idk if i already send this request but even if i did i'm requesting again :) . Can you do one that Kenan always watch reader doing her skin care so one day he ask her to do in him and she proudly do it . Very fuffly w a lot of kisses plss

Teenage Skin~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I did get the previous request and I was already working on it!! enjoy <33

Kenan was used to watching her. While her nighttime routine was doing her skincare, his was sitting by her side and watching her enjoy how her skin glowed. At first he said it as a joke (kinda)

“Can you put that on my face?” he asked, trying to act casual, when all he wanted was to feel her smooth hands rub the cold products on his face.

“Huh?” she raised her eyebrows, her fingers stopping their motion on her face. She turned to look at him, as he stepped inside the bathroom.

“Those things…” he pointed to the several things on the bathroom counter, “Can you use them on me?” he asked, almost shy.

“You want me to put my skincare products on your face?” she asked again, trying to bite back a smile.

He nodded shyly, reaching to hold her moisturiser in his hand.

“I mean yeah” he shrugged. “Have you seen my face? I’m pretty sure my skin thinks I’m still 15 or something”

She giggled at his words, quickly washing her hands and turning to him.

“I’ve been wanting to make a skincare routine just for you for a while now but I didn’t think you’d down for it,” she said, opening her drawer and pulling out a headband.

She placed it in hands, while he looked at the fluffy two-eared headband in his hand. When he looked up at her and saw the excited smile on her face, he let out a sigh.

“Am I gonna regret this?” he asked, his lips twitching up in a small smile.

She put her finger on her chin, as if thinking, before she hummed.

“Probably. But not after your skin starts glowing,” she grinned, leaning up and pecking his lips quickly before pushing him down to sit on the closed toilet lid.

She helped him put his headband on, pushing his hair away from his face then she tied her hair in a ponytail and pulled the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows.

First off, she grabbed the cleanser, applying some on a cotton pad then wiping it across his face.

“Oh this is cold,” he hummed, letting out a sigh in satisfaction.

“And it's definitely removing all the dirt from your face,” she pulled a face, showing him the cotton pad that had darkened a bit.

“I showered in the morning!” he said, chuckling slightly.

“mhm this is normal. These things get stuck on your face without being visible,” she said, throwing the cotton in hand.

“wash your face love,” she instructed, before grabbing the next thing.

Kenan washed his face, and dried it with the soft towel that hung next to the mirror.

Next step: toner.

She placed a few drops on her hands, rubbing them together before patting it gently on his face.

“I might fall asleep like this,” Kenan murmured, opening his eyes to look at her.

He couldn't help but smile at the way her tongue poked out of her mouth, her eyes focused on his face.

He quickly reached up, pecking her lips quickly, making her squeal.

“you're gonna get this all over me!” she protested, but her smile proved that she didn't mind it.

“sorry you just look so cute,” he mumbled, his lips tugging up in a bigger smile when her cheeks turned into the brightest shade of red.

Then, she opened the next drawer this time pulling some…stickers?

“what're those?” Kenan asked, his eyebrows raising.

“pimple patches,” she stated, “you've got some pretty nasty pimples baby”

Kenan looked at his face in the mirror, noticing the big juicy pimples in his face, which made him wince.

“tell me about it,” he muttered to himself, turning to see her holding the first star patch.

Kenan sighed, but let her put it on his face. His forehead, below his lips, on his cheek. At the end, he had four yellow stars on his face, and he looked adorable as hell.

“Oh you look so cute,” she squished his cheeks with her hands, kissing the tip of his nose lightly.

Kenan giggled, his nose scrunching up. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, as she stood between his legs and grabbed the pink serum he loved.

“I love this one,” he pointed out, making her chuckle.

“I know you do, because it's pink,” she said, putting a few drops on his cheeks.

She patted them slowly on his face, careful to avoid the pimple patches she had put previously.

Then she noticed the way Kenan was looking at her, his eyes half open, full of adoration making her heart melt.

“What?” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side.

“I love you so much,” he said, his eyes widening as he processed what he just said.

It wasn't the first time he said it, but it was the first time he said it so randomly, so casually but still sincerely.

She felt her cheeks heat up, eyes looking away to avoid his. Then she hummed.

“are you trying to get some kisses?” she teased, putting the serum back in its place and grabbing her moisturiser.

“maybe” he shrugged, “is it working?”

She turned to him, her seriousness melting away at the pout on his face.

“maybe” she muttered, leaning down to press a few kisses on his lips, then on the top of his head.

Kenan grinned widely, tightening his arms around her.

“okay last thing. moisturiser. you'll be getting a free massage today sweetheart,” she joked, applying some of the stuff on his forehead, cheeks, chin and nose.

Then she started to gently message it, with upward and downward movements until his skin absorbed it all. Then she moved to his neck a bit, making sure some of the product reached it too.

Kenan sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as her hands did their magic.

A few moments later, her hands left his face and his eyes opened.

“okay! all done. you're glowing Kenan,” she cooed, moving so he can see himself in the mirror.

Kenan stood up, stepping closer to the mirror to admire his now shiny skin.

She grabbed her lip balm off the counter, twisting the cap off, swiping it across her bottom lip slowly, then the top. Then, with a playful smile, she turned toward him and held it out.

"Want some?" she offered.

But before she could even lift her hand, he leaned in without a word and kissed her, firm and confident, stealing the taste right off her lips.

When he pulled back, a faint shine of balm smudged at the corner of his mouth.

"Got it," he said with a smug little grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with his finger.

She blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks immediately.

"i hate you."

"thank you," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her warm cheek, "i love you too baby."

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[plushieni]

hii can you make a small oneshot of reader "checking their posture" but its just reader tricking them to tickle them

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGmawoHt8lI/?igsh=ejZpNjNjYXMzdGk=

specifically kaiser and rin buy other characters is fine too!!!

this trend with the bluelock boys ♡⸝. m. kaiser, r. itoshi, m. bachira

an i am SO sorry this took me so long. this trend is so funny to me 😭 def gonna try it on someone.. anyways! i hope you enjoy!!! i added bachira as well cause i love him

MICHAEL KAISER

he’d definitely be confused at first, but he'd go along with it. after all, how could he say no to you? but once you start tickling him and he realizes what's actually happening, he's completely caught off guard. he wasn’t expecting this at all, and it hits him like a wave. this is so not the situation he’s used to being in, and for a second, he’s genuinely disoriented.

immediately, he tries to stop you. “y/n, damn it!” he exclaims, struggling to maintain his composure. his body tense, trying to run away. he fights to hold in his laughter, but it’s no use. each burst escapes despite his best efforts, and he tries to mask it with quick, sarcastic retorts. “you think this is working?” he sneers, swearing that he's better than this. he’s determined to keep up his cocky image, refusing to break.

but when he finally manages to get the broom out? oh, it’s game over. now, he's on the hunt, chasing you down to get his revenge. and trust me, you won't be able to escape that easily. ready to give you a taste of your own medicine.

RIN ITOSHI

he was confused, but not in the way kaiser was. rin raised an eyebrow, deadpan, and shot you a look. "what’s this for?" he asked, his voice sharp and unimpressed. he didn’t really want to go along with it, but he wasn’t about to shut you down either—he didn’t want to seem rude or uninterested.

the tickling made him freeze up completely. "stop it," he grumbled, fighting to keep his usual cool. his pride kicked in, turning it into a challenge he couldn’t afford to lose. "keep doing that, and you’ll regret it…" he sneered, trying to hide how much it was getting to him. he squirmed with each giggle you let out, but the more you kept at it, the harder it became to stay unaffected. eventually, he glanced at you, and his shield cracked. he couldn’t hold it in anymore—a small, involuntary chuckle slipped out.

once you stopped, satisfied that you’d finally broken him, rin was already plotting his revenge. "just you wait," he smirked, walking off with that cocky confidence of his. he knew you’d gotten him this time, but he swore it was only a matter of time before he got you back.

MEGURU BACHIRA

when you said you wanted to try something out, bachira was open to it almost instantly—agreeing without hesitation and grinning wide. sure, he was curious, but he leaned into it with his usual enthusiasm. “yeah, let’s do it!” he said, bouncing with excitement, always down for whatever you had in mind.

as soon as you started tickling him, he immediately fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. there was no chance of him holding it together. he clutched his stomach, practically collapsing to the ground. he didn’t even try to conceal it—he just couldn’t help himself. “o-okay, you got me!” he giggled, his body jerking, legs kicking out of control, desperately trying to escape. “timeout, please!” he was having way too much fun.

finally, after giving him a moment to cool off, you let him catch his breath. wiping the tears from his eyes, he kept chuckling to himself. “good one,” he said, flashing you a smirk. but it was clear he wasn’t done yet. determined to turn the tables, he suddenly pounced on you, tickling you back with just as much energy. “it’s on!” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

more of my works here

© plushieni do not copy, steal, translate, repost any of my work

[graveyard-galaxy]

This might have been said before, but…

Interesting to note that Andrew eludes to the fact that smoking, which he supposedly takes up for stress relief, was something that started for him during the year he and Ashley weren’t really talking…

Transcript:

Ashley: “Why did you even pick up smoking in the first place?”

Andrew: “For stress relief.”

Ashley: “That’s it..? If something was bothering you, you should’ve come to me.”

Andrew: “……..It didn’t seem like you wanted me near you back then.”

We see this play out in the cliffhanger route, of course, and…

Ashley: “Goodnight, Andrew.”

Yep, on that first night, after Andrew shoves her away, it certainly does seem as though Ashley doesn’t want to be near him… But we know Ashley’s tactics, with regards to this. She’s perfectly capable of giving Andrew the silent treatment, or just refusing to engage with him, until he apologises. (We see in the drive to their parents in episode 2, of course, and whilst she’s not even sure what exactly she’s mad at him for, no less…)

I think this interaction and a massive impact on Ashley, and could have very easily cemented her ideas that she us unlovable, and that if she is to keep Andrew, she has to force it, because even when it seems like he really wants her, and she tries to play his game, he shoves her off. Many have said it before, but it’s not hard to read that Ashley might have been subconsciously taught that, yes, the only way to get her way is to do things her way, here.

But once again, we do know Ashley’s behaviour patterns. Because of that terrible self-worth, it’s actually shockingly easy to win her right back over. Winning her back over will cause her to demand greater and greater things, and does seem to have taught her that crying and acting up will lead to her getting her way, no matter what for, in the long run, but… From just examples from the cliffhanger route, Ashley forgives Andrew for not being honest with Julia after he buys her chocolate and some stuffed animals, and forgives him for being distant for her for an entire year when he writes her a fake cheque for the amount she demands.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s this easy only because Ashley fundamentally needs Andrew, and because it’s all meant to show how she’s refused to grow up. She is, quite literally, won back over just as easily as a child.

But I am getting a little off track. My point in all of this was that, should Andrew have really wanted to, he could have won Ashley back over quite quickly after this, if he engaged with her games, and offered her a proper apology. But the thing is, this time, he really doesn’t want to play her game, because he really, really doesn’t want to explain himself. He’s quite deep into his “I love Julia, and being in a relationship with her will surely mean I’ll stop wanting to get with my sister” insistence phase at this point, and well, he tells himself:

Andrew: “(……….I have to address this, don’t I? Arrghh!!! I don’t want to!! I seriously don’t want to!!)”

Now, as a disclaimer to not be misleading, he does still go to check on Ashley after this, leading to both the above scene of her telling him goodnight, and also the scene in front of the TV the next morning where she refuses to sit next to him or joke with him. The main difference between these scenes and their other fights, is that Andrew kind of just gives up after the surface level observation that she doesn’t want to talk to him.

Because Ashley has always so much been his responsibility, he usually always, and after this year, will still continue to, work quite hard to cheer Ashley up after he upsets her. As a child, Renee did not take him fighting with Ashley at all well, because if Ashley was upset with him, then she would actually have to parent her daughter, and she would much rather Andy do that for her. And then later on, he doesn’t want to upset Ashley because he genuinely loves her, even if she hurts him over and over again, and he often wants to hurt her right back.

But this time is different because this time, Andrew avoidance of the issue is the whole reason there’s even a rift forming. Do I necessarily blame him for shoving off Ashley’s forwardness after a dream that clearly upset him, even if it was more meant to address what he really wants? No. But the fact of the matter is, he shoved Ashley off because he’s uncomfortable with his own desires, and his refusal to engage with having to address them as soon as he’s given the smallest excuse not to (So Ashley being unwilling to talk without an apology) led to a rift that had them the most disconnected they’d been since Ashley was born.

And the whole reason I bring this up, is that we see Andrew be sheepish about it, when he explains that he thought Ashley didn’t want him around, and that it was apparently bad enough that he takes up smoking to cope, even when as a child, he could only think about the dangers of it.

Andy: “What the hell, Leyley? Smoking is bad for you.”

And obviously people’s opinions on things are going to change s they grow up, especially on things perceived as ‘grown-up’, but I don’t think Nemlei would just show us Andrew saying smoking is dangerous if she wanted to establish that young Andy was careful and scared of consequences. We already know that, and it’s very evidently obvious in most scenes with young Andy, actually. The choice of smoking as the vice Andy argues against is clearly deliberate dramatic irony, since Andrew’s lighter is one of the most passed around items in the game, and him smoking is far from a secret. (Perhaps also worth noting that the lighter he finds in the basement here later might be his current one? Not sure on that, though.)

All this goes to show that Andrew taking up smoking anyway whilst separated from Ashley definitely goes leaps and bounds to show the kind of mental effects that was really having… And yeah, he does literally kill himself in episode 3 after killing Ashley because he can’t live without her, but that doesn’t make the subtler ways in which that’s backed up not still interesting.

And just finally, Andrew also claims that smoking doesn’t actually help with stress, but that it takes his mind of off things first a bit.

Andrew: “All it does is preoccupy your mind for a minute. Though sometimes, that pause is all you need.”

Hmm…

Andrew: “(Bet there’s distance now because she’s creeped out by me… She kind of already admitted she’s not even into that sort of thing to begin with… God, I’m sick… Why am I still even thinking about this?)”

Hmm…

Even whilst he’s out with Julia after fighting with Ashley, as ever, he can’t stop thinking about her, and that seems to be his real problem. So he smokes, just for a chance to get his mind off of her for a minute, where that pause it sometimes all he needs to reset and get right back to acting and not addressing the underlying issue.

And funny, how Ashley insisted that she’s never not wanted to be around him during the conversation about why he took up smoking, and that still makes perfect sense because in her mind, he never approached her, to express that he still wanted to be around her. He ignored the problem, and then it warped to seemingly like Ashley genuinely didn’t want him near. Not to even mention how his takeaway is that she’s probably not interested full stop, and thus that’s why even after she kisses him in return for the shotgunning, he views it as a mistake and tells her not to think anything about it.

[mintyys-blog]

I love your work, can I request invincible variants x reader who

can break the 4th wall?

HEADCANONS | mark variants with s/o who breaks the 4th wall

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS:

MAIN MARK

“So this is your character development moment,” you say, gesturing at nothing. “Cue the heartfelt speech, and maybe a swell in the soundtrack?”

Mark just blinks at you. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

You squint. “Huh. I figured you’d be genre-aware by now. Rookie mistake.”

“There’s… no soundtrack,” he says slowly. “Is this some kind of joke?”

VILTRUMITE MARK

“You’re acting like this is some kind of… story,” he growls.

“It is. You’re the hardened antihero from a tragic empire. I’m the wild card with unexplained powers. The shippers are gonna love this.”

His brows knit together. “What is a shipper?”

You just grin. “Exactly.”

MOHAWK MARK

“This is your edgy arc,” you say, watching him dramatically leap across a rooftop. “Moody. Shirtless. Probably doomed.”

He squints at you. “How the hell do you know what I’m gonna do before I do it?”

“Because I read ahead.”

“Read what ahead?”

You tap your temple. “The script.”

He flips you off and storms away.

SINISTER MARK

“You talk like someone who’s read my thoughts,” he says.

“No, just your Wiki page,” you say cheerfully. “Very dramatic, by the way. Love the angst.”

He goes still. “Wiki?”

“You really don’t remember the Season 2 finale? Oof. Repression is a hell of a coping mechanism.”

“What are you?”

OMNI MARK

“You always start the scene with a threat. It’s your thing,” you sigh. “Then you’ll say something about how I disappoint you.”

“You do,” he snaps.

“Boom. Called it.” You turn toward the empty air. “He’s so predictable. This is why they keep rebooting him.”

“Who are you talking to?” he demands. “What are you looking at? There’s nothing there!”

PRISONER MARK

“You ever wonder if this is all just some script someone’s watching for fun?” you ask, sprawled out beside him.

He flinches. “No… Why would you say that?”

“Because I see them.” You point past the ‘camera.’ “They’re right there. Watching us.”

He backs away, panicked. “Stop. Don’t say that. Don’t look at things that aren’t real.”

SHIESTY MARK

“You think you’re slick,” you grin. “But your arc’s been obvious since Episode 5.”

He pauses mid-sentence. “…What episode?”

“Never mind. Keep monologuing, it makes the edits easier.”

“Edits of what? What are you even talking about?”

You just wink. “You’ll catch up in the finale. Maybe.”

EMPEROR MARK

“Your empire collapses in like… six more chapters,” you say as you sip something that wasn’t in your hand two seconds ago.

He stiffens. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” You glance straight past him. “Quick, zoom in on his eyes. He’s doing the denial stare.”

“There’s no one there,” he says tightly.

“That’s what they all say.”

MASKLESS MARK

“You keep talking like this isn’t real,” he says quietly. “Like we’re… fake.”

“I’m just the self-aware love interest,” you shrug. “You’re the guy the audience cries over when you die tragically.”

His face darkens. “That’s not funny.”

“Tell that to the writers.”

FULL MASK MARK

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you muse, circling him. “Just dramatic body language. Classic.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“You’re the mysterious fan favorite. Enigmatic. Broken. Probably a walking metaphor.”

He doesn’t move. But something in his posture stiffens—like he’s starting to notice how weird you are.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, looking directly at the camera. “He doesn’t know we’re in a scene yet.”

TAG LIST: @onlybatsyy

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason part 6

This part feels like a lot of exposition. My bad, but the Batfam does not know how Danny and his life works.

You can find the earlier parts on my masterpost

“And in this scenario, you three count as dead?” Red asked, hoping to get some clarity on this, quite frankly, annoyingly impossible scenario playing out in front of him. Because as much as he can see that they clearly have a way to communicate that is beyond him and knows that they have all died, his brain does not seem to want to compute this information into other conclusions. A glance from Tim to Bruce shows that while he may not be struggling as much with the logistics of this situation, he is still struggling.

That may be because of all the children in front of him that- regardless of current status- all did die at some point. 

“Sort of,” Danny shrugs. “What you have to understand is there are a lot of different kinds of beings from what you would consider the land of the dead, which I call the Ghost Zone, and is more formally known as the Infinite Realms. There is a lot of diversity, and It would be a real sit-down kind of lesson to try and explain them all to you guys. The important bit for right now is that the three of us,” Danny gestures to Red Hood, then himself, then to Robin,”are three different beings, as related to the Infinite Realms, and I am the only one that technically counts as dead.”

Danny is very good at ignoring the side glances being thrown around. “But Ghost Speak can be spoken by any denizen of the Infinite Realms, who falls under any of it’s categories or rulers.” 

“Rulers?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny does another hand waving motion. “You know, Hades and Pluto, Lucifer and the Devil, the Ghost King, and other various religions and beliefs rulers. It's all very monarchist. The Infinite Realms are all technically under the control of the Ghost King, but the Infinite Realms are infinite and that’s a lot for one person to control. So various religious leaders all  make up what is essentially Dukes and Lords and Barons and other random titles, and they all control their little Realms and make up what could be considered a council or a parliament or Congress or what-have-you that is technically under the rule of the Ghost King. But the Ghost King really only takes care of the really big stuff most of the time. Unless there’s a tyrant on the throne, like with Pariah Dark. He was a terrible ruler, very controlling.”

Danny was rambling. He was aware of this, but the others seemed too shell-shocked to be able to stop him, and he has never really been able to talk about this with anyone so now that he is he doesn’t think he can stop himself either. 

“He’s not on the throne anymore, luckily. Technically the right to the throne is transferred through single-combat, very old-fashioned. No one could beat Pariah Dark so they locked him in the Coffin of Forever Sleep for a really long time instead. I don’t think the Infinite Realms really need a King all that much, they got by just fine for millenia without one. But now we’re getting into politics. Unimportant. Death Speak, language of the Infinite Realms, totally natural, not at all bad.”

Danny forces himself to take a very long, slow breath. By the time he is done, the others seem at least semi-recovered. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I would like that sit-down lesson at some point.” Red mutters, fingers twitching as he pulls out his tablet to start writing down this information. Bruce grunts in agreement.

“If it's all the same to you,” Hood snaps, “I would like to get out of this cell now.” 

“If we let you out, will you stay until we have the results from all of the tests?” Bruce asked. “They’re currently running so it won’t take long.” 

“Why the hell do we need to stay for that? You-”

“Did you take my blood?” Danny interrupted, seeming very concerned.

“It was a precaution, we had to test it. We took some of Hood’s too.” Red tried to explain. It didn’t seem to be helping, Danny’s breathing was getting kind of fast. “The tests are running now, just to look for influences of mind control or magic. And to test for dimensional distortions and integrity, if you were telling the truth about being from a different dimension. And to see if you have an alternate in this dimension that we need to be concerned about you running into.”

“I don’t really care -well, yes I do, breach of privacy, and consent, and-” Danny took a deep breath. “That is not my main concern at the moment. You were safe when handling my blood, right? You used gloves and it didn’t get on you or anything? I don’t know where we are and what you people are like, but just tell me you were safe around my blood.”

The real concern and fear in Danny was starting to get everyone else.

“Don’t worry, we are very safe here. We all have training and we know and use lab and medical safety procedures.” Damian spoke softly, aiming to calm.

“What is wrong with your blood, Danny?” Hood’s concern for him came out in underling Ghost Speak, and between him and Damian, Danny was able to calm some.

“It may be… not radioactive. Not contagious either.” Danny’s voice trailed to muttering for a moment as he figured out how to word what he said next. “My blood has a contaminant in it. Just don’t let it touch you, and definitely don’t let it get inside you somehow. It can also be dangerous if you have prolonged exposure, so make sure to get rid of any samples as soon as possible after the test and keep it away from other samples. And for the love of everything that is holy, try to keep it away from anything that will ever be ingested. Keep it away from food!”

“It can contaminate other samples?” 

“It can contaminate anything given enough time, technology included. But it spreads way more easily when it’s cold for some reason, so really anything put in a fridge with it should be tossed immediately.”

“You said it’s not contagious?” There was concern in even Red’s voice now.

“You’re not ill are you?” Damian eyes Danny warily.

“I’m fine, It’s part of me being what I am. Just,” Danny sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before cupping the back of his neck with both hands and looking towards the ceiling. “Think of it like a transforming agent. I’ve already been exposed, my DNA is altered, the harm is already done. My body actually needs that substance to survive now. Hood and… I’m sorry I don’t know what to call you.” Danny swung his hands back down to his sides as he glanced at Robin. 

“Robin.” Damian stated bluntly. 

Danny nodded and continued. “Hood and Robin have already been exposed so they’re fine for low to medium amounts of exposure. You two,” Danny pointed a finger at Red and then Batman, “Have not been exposed and therefore should avoid it as much as possible. Even a little bit can cause lifelong effects.”

[miscellaneousdae]

WOULD THEY DATE A PLUS SIZED PERSON? | SKZ⁸

ᝰ.ᐟauthors note: raise your hand if you’ve been victimized by a tik tok video regarding who in skz would date a plus sized person! 🙋🏻‍♀️ in honor of that, here’s my take on this lol. these were written with reality in mind, but sprinkled by delusion on some. you’re all gorgeous and we don’t know these people personally, so delulu is the solulu.

p.s: written by a plus sized girlie

౨ৎ — BANG CHAN 🐺

Yes.

see source one, source two, and i had another video that i cant find, but chan talks about how saying “you look fine as you are” can sometimes give a negative impression, and how people say “you look good when you’re skinny” but he (at the time) didn’t like how skinny he was, and wanted to gain weight. he just…gets it, in a way, and i’m standing on that! can you tell he’s my bias?

i feel like his is so straightforward that there’s not a lot to elaborate on. he understands that bodies are different, for many reasons, and has always been so open about struggles. be it his own struggles or others, he’s always so kind and open minded. he also definitely gives me the vibe that he’s not actively seeking out romance when he meets someone, so he’s not even considering what’s attractive and what’s not attractive. people become attractive to him when he learns their personality and gets a good grasp of their energy and vibe. so, yes, chan would definitely date a plus sized person <3

౨ৎ — LEE MINHO 🐈

Yes.

now, i don’t have a lot to back me up here other than straight vibes. he’s another one who doesn’t immediately consider romance when meeting other people, and i think he’s probably experienced being physically attracted to someone and then their personality completely throws him off, so he’s just stopped considering looks as a whole. even if looks are considered, he seems like he doesn’t understand why he’d go out of his way to comment on someone else’s body, or why anyone else would. he’s very demure, very minding his own business, very whatever comes his way is what he loves. he’s just a chill guy.

౨ৎ — SEO CHANGBIN 🐇

…do I even need to say it?

for a number of reasons, yes. first and foremost, he just has that vibe that he loves the look, and secondly, he knows what it’s like to not be accepted because of how you look, and therefore, would never want to be that way to other people. he’s a sweetheart, and very much just wants someone who dotes on him and that he can dote on in return. changbin is a strong yes and you’re incorrect if you disagree.

౨ৎ — HWANG HYUNJIN 🥟

indecisive

genuinely, the only thing keeping me from saying yes is how firm some other people’s ‘no’s have been. from my perspective, hyunjin seems like someone who’s open minded and more focused on the ways he can connect with people rather than worrying about judging them. not to mention, he’s an artist. one could argue that he’s more critical, but i also feel like because of that, he wants to really know someone before making any judgements. plus, given the forbidden bullying scandal, i feel like he might be terrified to find himself in another situation like that but i digress

so like…if you ask me? yes, but i am delusional and hyunjin is one of my bias wreckers so who knows

౨ৎ — HAN JISUNG 🐿️

YES GAWDDD

look, i’ve seen mixed opinions on him as well (most of these opinions i’m referring to are old tumblr MTL posts or tik toks and the comment sections on them) BUT i feel like he’s very curious and open minded. so, say a plus sized person shoots their shot? han’s got that “you know what? hell yeah.” mindset. ANNDDDD the video where felix mentions gaining weight, and han immediately reassures him that gaining weight is okay, and that he’s pretty. plus, han spends a lot of time working with chan and changbin, to which i feel like they all probably have come to similar conclusions due to their influence on each other. plus han also gives me the energy that if you’re pretty, you’re pretty, regardless of size, shape, etc.

౨ৎ — LEE FELIX 🐣

…yes. and hear me out,

i’ve seen almost everyone who’s done this sort of thing say that felix is a hard no because of his own struggles with his body and how his perception of beauty is warped. while i can see that, i don’t think that translates to how he views other people. if anything, he wouldn’t want to put someone else through what his own mind puts him through. not to mention, i think he could find a lot of comfort in security in being with a plus sized person who’s confident with themselves, and could implement better ideals to felix. that’s just my take <33

౨ৎ — KIM SEUNGMIN 🐶

YES.

i don’t think i’ve seen anyone say he wouldn’t, and i stand with that because hear me out:

“but i’m fat”

“…okay and i’m seungmin?”

this man does not care. he acknowledges it and appreciates it. he’s very much in the “if i like you, i like you” category. case rested.

౨ৎ — YANG JEONGIN 🦊

indecisive pt. 2

in theory, yes. i think he’s probably taken some influence from chan, or maybe even seeing how changbin has been affected and treated by media would alter any negative views he might have had. to be fair, i just don’t even see jeongin dating LMAO like he’s content as he is, and if the person that happened to come his way was plus sized? if he likes your personality, he’s down.