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babyleostuff · 2 days

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when you look at them with love and adoration | ot13

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!svt x gn!reader 𐙚 headcanon + dabble

☁️ HIP HOP UNIT

𐙚 seungcheol

tries to act unbothered. key word: tries. you have no idea how the look in your eyes makes him feel - how he instantly melts under your soft and loving gaze, how he would do literally anything for you just because of the way you’re looking at him. he always jokes that he has you wrapped around his little finger, but who are we kidding. plus, we know he tries to act tough and manly most of the time, but cheol is a baby, so he immediately turns into the biggest blushy mess on the planet. besides, it’s so crazy to him that someone can look at him with so much love and adoration, and the fact that he gets to call you his?

[ ☁️ ]

“stop.”

“what?” you laughed, brushing away the hair from his forehead.

“stop looking at me like that,” he muttered, hiding his head in your neck, too shy to look you in the eye.

“like what, hm?” you joked, waiting for the whines, and pouts from your boyfriend.

seungcheol could act all tough as much as he wished, but you knew the real him - the blushy, shy, and adorable him that turned into the biggest puddle in your arms, just from the way you were looking at him.

“i love you,” you heard a quiet whisper, followed by a gentle peck on your shoulder.

“i love you too, my dumbass.”

𐙚 wonwoo

does not know how to act, because how is it possible that he’s suddenly feeling so shy, and… so loved? and just by the way you’re looking at him. but the look, oh the look you have in your eyes. wonwoo isn’t sure it should be even humanly possible to have so much emotion just in your eyes, but yours, yours are filled with so much adoration. you’re looking at him like his the most beautiful thing ever created, and he does not know how to react to something like that.

[ ☁️ ]

wonwoo could see you standing in the doorway to your bedroom from the corner of his eyes. it was weird, because usually you’d come in and stand behind him, sometimes you’d warp your arms around his shoulders or kiss his cheek, but now you were only standing there.

pausing his game, he took off his headset ready to ask you if everything was okay, but he was immediately struck by the look on your face when he turned his head.

“wha- what’s up?” he asked, his voice shaking. why were you looking at him like that. what was going on?

“nothing, i just came to check up on you,” you smiled, tilting your head.

in that moment, wonwoo felt like the luckiest man alive.

𐙚 mingyu

his instant reaction is waddling over to where you’re standing and wrapping himself around you. he knows how much you love him - whether you convey it by your words, actions, touch. but to mingyu, the deepest confession of love is definitely the way you simply look at him. anyone can see the way your eyes are filled with nothing but adoration for the man standing in front of you, and to mingyu that’s the loudest “i love you” you could ever say. nonetheless, he always turns into a big fluff of shyness, and giggles when he notices your love struck expression.

[ ☁️ ]

“baby,” mingyu whined, his lips forming into a sweet pout. “don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled, before setting down the pan, and going around the kitchen island to wrap his strong arms around you.

“i’m just watching you cook, gyu,” you said as a matter of fact with a small smile on your face, like you didn’t just melt his heart, turning him into a whining mess.

you knew exactly what you were doing, and how your boyfriend would react, but you couldn’t help yourself. being with him like that was so… domestic. it made you feel like home.

“i love you, baby,” he said, his voice muffled.

𐙚 vernon

if wonwoo doesn’t know how to act, then i don’t know how i’m supposed to describe vernon’s reaction. no thoughts, just puppy eyes. i doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, vernon always freezes whenever he sees that look on your face. the look that says more than a hundred “i love you’s”, the look that never fails to make his heart beat faster, the look that says “you’re mine forever”. he never comments on it much, because - what is he really supposed to say in a situation like that, but it always, always makes him feel like the luckiest person alive. what he doesn’t know is that whenever you give him a look of pure love and adoration, his eyes are filled with as much affection as yours.

[ ☁️ ]

“should we order the pizza you were talking about last week, or the usual?”

when you didn’t answer him like you immediately would when it came to food, vernon raised his head to make sure you were still listening to him.

“baby are you-,” his voice immediately fell silent when he saw how intently you were looking at him. but it was more than that.

you looked at him like he was the only person in the world you wanted to look at.

the voice in his head tried to explain it by saying that you were actually alone in your apartment, so there weren't many other people for you to look at, but... that look, it was something else.

“yes, vernon?”

“um, the pizza, or the usual?”

☁️ PERFORMANCE UNIT

𐙚 jun

his default reaction is to run and hide. jun cannot fathom how much love your eyes can hold, and adding the fact that he's the one that makes you look like that??? yeah, no, he’s good. he just ends up staring right back at you, eyes big and sparkly, not knowing he looks at you with the same amount of adoration, which just makes you chuckle (seriously, he couldn’t get any cuter). to protect his heart, he’d try to turn the situation around into a joke, but jun would just stumble over his words (adorably) and end up with a big blush on his cheeks, and a shy smile

[ ☁️ ]

"baby?"

jun refused to look at you, not after how he caught you looking at him with that look, no. he would not let you see how shy it made him.

“junnie, please,” you giggled, and cupped his cheeks that were dusted with an adorable blush, which you’d never get tired of. “why won’t you look at me, hm?” you crooked an eyebrow at him.

with his little pout and sparkly eyes, you couldn’t help but smile widely. what did you ever do to deserve such a precious human being?

“stop looking at me like that,” he muttered, as his eyebrows furrowed at your amused expression.

“like what?” you teased.

𐙚 hoshi

starts giggling like crazy - he always gets all smiley when you look at him, but when he catches you with this particular look that says “i love you” so loudly, hoshi just can’t contain himself. he’d skip over to you like a little girl, and hug the shit out of you, while vibrating with love himself. he’s just so happy to have someone that looks at him like that - like he’s their entire world while he’s doing the most mundane things ever, he just has to convey his love and adoration right back

[ ☁️ ]

“kwon soonyoung, what are you doing?” you laughed, as your boyfriend threw his arms around you, not in a gentle way.

you didn’t get a proper response, just a bunch of hoshi sounds - giggles, laughs, and something even you couldn’t understand. the usual.

“i love youuuu,” he said, and even though you couldn’t see (thanks to his not so gentle hug), you could hear the smile in his voice. that was probably what you loved about him the most - you weren't sure whether his next hug would almost suffocate you or whether it would be as delicate as a feather.

after a while, when his sudden burst of love had passed, he grabbed you a little gentler and pressed his cheek to the top of your head, and as you stood there, you couldn't believe that a simple look could cause such a reaction in him.

𐙚 minghao

gets so so so shy. minghao sees himself as a very composed person that’s very in touch with his emotions, and while usually he’s good at hiding his feeling when he has to, the second he catches a glimpse of you staring at him like he hung the stars and moon, he’s gone. he blushes like crazy, immediately turning away from you because you won’t catch xu minghao blushing, suddenly acting like the packet of ramen is the most fascinating thing in the world. poor bub just doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to act (he’d be a bit clingier than usual throughout the day, though, it’s his silent way of saying “thank you”)

[ ☁️ ]

you were in the middle of making a late dinner for you and minghao when you felt two familiar arms wrapping themselves around your waist.

“the dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, honey,” you said, not paying much attention to your boyfriend’s sudden clinginess.

“mhm,” he hummed, and placed his chin on your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his. you couldn’t help but smile - there was nothing better than minghao in teddy bear mode, especially with how gently, but securely he was holding you.

“i love you, you know,” he said, and placed a soft peck on your cheek, nuzzling his face further into your neck.

𐙚 chan

would melt on the spot, and turn into a puddle of love and fluff. he’d look at you with sparkly puppy eyes and a tiny pout, because how dare you to mess with his poor heart like that - no amount of “i love you’s” could ever express how grateful he is for having you in his life, and that he’s able to call you his. chan always gets so cuddly and giggly after catching your lovestruck gaze, it's like his entire being is filled with your love, and you can be damn sure he’d stick by your side for the rest of the day. you’re the best at bringing out the maknae out of chan

[ ☁️ ]

“i love you.”

“i love you too baby, but this is like the tenth time you’ve said that in the last fifteen minutes,” you laughed, brushing away the hair from his forehead. you looked down at your boyfriend who was currently happily occupying your chest, getting his daily dose of afternoon cuddles.

“i know,” he sighed, happiness clear in his voice. “and i’m going to keep saying that.”

you could only shake your head in amusement at chan’s antics, as you fell back into a comfortable silence once again, both of you focused on the show you were watching.

“i love you.”

“lee chan i swear to god!”

☁️ VOCAL UNIT

𐙚 jeonghan

little (shy) gremlin activated because jeonghan will tease you with a hint of a blush on his cheeks (he mostly does that to distract you from how shy your stare made him). but after some snarky (lovingly, of course) comments, he’d just cling to you, and nuzzle his head into your neck telling you how much he loves you. no words could ever express how that look - so full of love and adoration made him feel. it’s just the feeling of being so… loved. yeah, that does things to him

[ ☁️ ]

“what is it jeonghan?”

“nothing,” he said sweetly, not tearing his eyes from you.

you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics. you weren’t sure what you did this time to deserve his usual teasing, not that it really mattered, but you couldn’t help but get a bit annoyed by him staring so intensely at you.

“you know i love you, right?” he said after a while, just when you thought he’d proceed with his day, and leave you alone. instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, and put his chin on your shoulder.

you turned your head around, kissing his nose. “i know, honey. i love you too.”

𐙚 joshua

smiles fondly right back at you with the same amount of adoration (to be honest, joshua always looks at you like that, it’s his default setting), but when he catches your lovestruck gaze he just cannot help but scrunch his nose cutely, and smile with just as a smitten expression as yours. from the third person's perspective this might look a bit scary weird, because why are you just staring at each other smiling like that? but you, you are just wrapped up in your little bubble of love

[ ☁️ ]

“do you think we look weird?” you asked, your eyes glued to your boyfriend’s adorable face. you’ve been sitting like this for the last five minutes, looking at each other unable to tear your eyes from each other.

“no?” he smiled, his eyes scrunching cutely.

just a second later the door to the bathroom opened and closed, and coups emerged from the hallway. “um, you guys okay?” he asked, suspiciously.

you and joshua just proceeded to burst out laughing, leaving your friend very concerned, and very confused.

𐙚 woozi

woozi in his woozi fashion tries to act unbothered, but there is no way he could ignore your look full of nothing but adoration. for a second he gets so overwhelmed by the love that’s radiating off of you, because it’s so crazy to him that all of that affection is dedicated to him. jihoon would maybe try to turn it into a joke to hide how shy you made him, or just not comment on your lovestruck gaze at all, but no worries - the image of you and your love filled eyes would stay with him for the rest of the day

[ ☁️ ]

“hey, baby? what is this?” you asked, sliding the piece of paper that looked like it was about to fall apart over to your boyfriend. he looked up from his computer, scanning the paper quickly.

you didn’t mean to snoop around his office at home, you just wanted to clean his mess a bit so he wouldn’t have to worry about it after coming back from work, only you didn’t expect to find what you did.

“it’s just some silly lyrics,” he shrugged. you would’ve believed him if not for the small blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“mhm, sure,” you smiled, knowing exactly who the lyrics were about.

𐙚 seokmin

seokmin has one of the most romantic souls in all of seventeen, so it’s no surprise he always looks at you with the most lovestruck expression, no matter what you’re doing. at this point you’re so used to it that you don’t comment on it anymore, but the situation is so much different when he catches you looking at him with eyes filled with nothing but love. dk’s immediate reaction is to kiss you all over your face with soft pecks, and then bear hug you and tell you how much he loves you. he just has to convey his love right back to you, he can’t let you think that he doesn’t notice how you look at him

[ ☁️ ]

“baby, let me go,” you whined, for the hundredth time, after your boyfriend got one of his love surges when he just had to take it out on you. “no,” he huffed, and kissed your cheek. and again. and again.

you both fell silent for a while, a nice, comfortable quietness surrounding your intertwined forms. “you’re not bothered by me, right?”

you swore you’d kill him one day for thinking he’s a bother. “lee seokmin,” you grumbled, and pinched his arm.

“auch,” he whined, rubbing his arm. “what was that for?” you took that opportunity to untangle yourself from him. “shut up, and kiss me or i swear to god.”

𐙚 seungkwan

boo gets a bit sulky, because how dare you to look at him like that? and what is he supposed to do now? no hugs, kisses or words could ever convey how grateful he is for you. he settles for waddling over to you with a small pout, and sparkly eyes to first - whine “don’t look at me like that”, and second - kiss your cheek and wrap his arms around you. sometimes he thinks he’s not worth enough for you to be looking at him like that - he’s just making a snack, so why are you looking at him so lovingly? at the end of the day, your lovestruck look fills him with so much love and reassurance, and he could never thank you enough for that

[ ☁️ ]

you were used to your boyfriend’s random bursts of affection, but you didn’t expect him to hug you like his life depended on it in the middle of cooking.

“you okay?” you asked, a bit concerned.

“mhm,” he mumbled, his cheek squished against your shoulder. you figured he was just feeling clingy today, not that it bothered you. “i jus’ love you,” he added.

you cooed at him, and turned your head to kiss his cheek.

“i love you too, boo.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @haneulparadx @zozojella @hoichi02

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arsonistbf · 2 days

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╾━╤デ╦︻ TO THE MOON AND BACK

wriothesley 〥 afab reader ₊ 𓂃 mdni. size kink, service dom wrio, fluff, dacryphilia, praise ⸻ ❪ 393 wc ❫

size kink with wriothesley goes absolutely fucking insane !!

you don't even need to have a specific body type, that man will just make it his dead set mission to manhandle you and fuck you in every position possible.

he's just so proportionally bigger compared to you that feeling tiny under him when he fucks his cock deep into your cunt, comes naturally without warning. but i only think this in a way where he's talking you through it―very, very obverse to how rough he's playing with your insides, he will never degrade you. even if you asked him to.

it just doesn't turn him on.

he doesn't like seeing you cry either, but when its because of the pleasure he's giving you in bed? oh boy, does it do things to him. he can't quite describe it, but when you get cock drunk and a little bit ditzy, it boosts his ego.

he'll always ask if you're comfortable in the set position, or if anything is hurting, down there. his words are as gentle as a lamb, and when it comes to you, he's extremely sexually reserved. he won't touch you inappropriately out in public, make sex jokes around your friends, or even go ahead without any type of consent.

but when you give him that signal where everything is okay and you are comfortable, be prepared not to walk for, generousslly, for maybe a week.

it can sometimes be a struggle keeping up with him during sex, though. i wouldn't necessarily say that his libido is high, per se, because majority of the time his work keeps him occupied when he's not around you. but when he fucks, he likes to fuck hard.

there are also a sprinkle of moments too where he wants to press his forehead to yours, hands intertwined as you ride him slowly, praising you and telling you how good you look, that you're making him feel amazing―he likes to savor these moments for after dates or when he misses you a bit more than usual.

you can tell he's smitten for you, and he gives you all the right reasons to believe it. you don't question where you stand in your relationship with him, despite if the two of you had been away from each other for weeks.

it would probably just end in him breeding you...

#wriothesley smut #genshin smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact #nereids' realm

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bluebells-and-dragonflies · 2 days

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God, the intimacy of Astarion feeding from you.

Astarion drinking from your neck as he pulls your body closer to his in bed, his chest up against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. It's a casual thing, now, his whispered can I? and your answering nod, as much a part of your bedtime routine as your bath or his curl care. You sigh as his fangs pierce your skin and his fingers flex against your stomach. His breath hitches when the taste of you hits his tongue, and that's familiar too, the physicality of it, the noises he makes low in his throat as he drinks, the way he grows warmer against you as your blood begins to flow through his veins. Nothing else makes you feel so heady, so intoxicated- so comforted.

Astarion drinking from your wrist when he’s starving for it and can’t wait to get you more comfortable. Pulling him into an alleyway one night on the way home from the Elfsong because you can see how badly he's craving in the way he can't keep his eyes off of the pulse point in your neck. He seizes your arm with both hands (can I? Yes-), bringing the soft skin on the inside of your wrist to his lips. He has just enough presence of mind to kiss the heel of your hand distractedly before he bites, fangs sliding through your skin and into the vein. The sound he makes can only be described as a growl, something feral and possessive (and you'll never tell him that it turns you on, since he would be insufferable about it- a promise to yourself that lasts exactly as long as the space between the moment and the next time you're tipsy and want him).

(NSFW Below!)

Astarion drinking from your inner thigh, one hand holding your leg steady and the other cupping your cunt. You groan, eyes shut in pleasure, as his thumb comes to rub your clit. The pain of the bite is barely pain this way- it collides with the pleasure in your belly and sends you almost out of your mind, overwhelmed with sensation and heat. He takes you all the way there, takes just enough from you to have you relaxed and pliant and soaring somewhere above your own body, plays you like an instrument with all the knowledge of you he's gathered over the months, the years. He knows when you're close, knows to crook his fingers inside you just so, knows the reaction he's going to get when he pulls away from your thigh for just a moment and looks up at you with dark eyes and tells you to come for him, he wants to see it, you fall apart so beautifully and it's all for him, isn't it, tell him how good he makes you feel and when you climax with his voice in your ear and the scent of blood on the air he has the audacity to laugh at how well he understands you, your body.

He's soft, after, softer than he'll ever be with anyone who isn't you. He licks you clean before he takes you to the bath, carrying you with the strength your lifeblood gives him. It's the least he can do for you, with everything you've given him: not just your body, but your trust, your closeness, and he will never stop being grateful.

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #.astarion #.nsft #i'm never gonna be normal about this sorry. one day y'all are gonna get a dissertation on the incredible intimacy of sharing blood #side note but...i feel like astarion doesn't usually feed during penetrative sex because he Will just lose his mind. feral. out of control #he makes that mistake with you one (1) time right at the beginning of the romance in act 1 and swears he will NEVER do it again (lying)#anyway. my askbox is open. for like minds. and unlike minds actually

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vanteguccir · 2 days

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Hey guys! I actually spent long minutes staring at these reblogs and debating whether it was worth responding and talking about or not. But as I'm not the type to take hate and keep quiet, I decided to talk about it.

First of all, Reia, you really seem like a person who doesn't read many fanfics for the way you put it in your text, so I'll explain the meaning of the word. Fanfic, short for "fan fiction", is a story written by a fan based on characters, universes, or real people (like the triplets). Fans create their own narratives, expanding or reimagining everything, creating their own version, which in real life does not exist OR, as writers, we often draw inspiration from real-life events too.

And yes, you and Evangeline are trying to be "fanfic police" and even "sturniolo police", if you scroll through the thousands of Sturniolo Triplets fanfics, you will come across A LOT where Matt, Nick or Chris go through situations of anxiety attack, panic attack, OR where the "reader" herself goes through this, sometimes even involving situations way worse than that. Furthermore, there's thousands of fanfics describing explicit sex scenes with them, the famous smuts, does that bother you too? Because in the world of someone who writes a FANFIC in here, it doesn't.

And yes, I was indeed writing about the meet and greet situation, and this was nothing new to ANYONE in the fandom WHO READS THE FANFICS HERE. I even made a post the day before ASKING who would like to read the idea, and you want to know the news? All 200 people who voted wanted it.

I understand that you feel this story is disrespectful FOR YOU, especially because it touches on a real-life situation that may be sensitive or painful for some people. I want to assure you that it was never my intention to cause harm or disrespect anyone involved in that situation.

I myself am diagnosed with chronic anxiety, and even so, I didn't feel affected by the way I wrote. In fact, I described how I feel during MY anxiety attacks.

In no way did I make fun of the situation Matt went through, in fact, my intention in writing this story was to explore Matt's complexity and show how he deals with real problems, such as anxiety. It was a way to give more depth to his situation during the tour and highlight the importance of the emotional support he receives from "Y/N". It was not my intention to mock him, but rather to explore his humanity and the challenges he faced, and I know with all the certainty in the world that I did not mock him, much less affect the people who read the story.

Please, I ask you to reevaluate the need to throw hate at a person who has nothing to do with your outside the box opinions of what WRITERS ON THE STURNIOLO'S TUMBLR should or shouldn't write about.

There are thousands of posts on Instagram and TikTok from "fans" really mocking Matt and throwing hate at him about "their bad experiences" during one of the shows, these are the people you should be giving a piece of your mind to, not me. 🩷

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #vante thoughts

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fuckmyskywalker · 2 days

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𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬.

Summary: A week of chaos. From the end to the very beginning. You find yourself in the darkness, remembering how the light touched your skin first. When you fly too close to the sun...

CW: 18+. dead dove do not eat, non-con, gun play, knife play, knife riding, death threats, dirty talk, dark content. | word count: 3.3k

a/n: Hope you enjoy it! DNI if you don't like the topics listed and DNI if you are a minor. Happy riding!

Hitman!Anakin series.

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺."

Sunday. 16th.

Comically, he could argue with any soul that crossed the empty streets that life doesn’t have a price. He could laugh at the soft-spoken, naive answer of self-value, laced with the dumb kindness of human nature. Humans are kind by nature, or that’s what idealists say; what— a sane person, he thinks— would say is that humans are selfish by nature, the realistic approach.

Since the start of times, the number two has been sacred. There are two worlds to join in the afterlife: Heaven and hell. Two deities to recognize: God and the Devil. Two spectrums: Good and bad. Two cycles: Day and night… and two options: To kill, or get killed.

It could also be described as a constant phrase he learned while growing up: “The strong one will eat the weak one”, eight words haunting him like the plague, following him and patting his shoulder at every failure, and congratulating him at every success. Strength equals power, money equals power, intelligence equals power… but can a man have it all without losing his mind? Or perhaps he is just getting philosophical when he shouldn’t. Unlocking the windows with ease as his mind races with the never-ending turmoil of an unfair life, edging him to do unfair jobs, and win dirty money.

Although Anakin Skywalker has learned that some hot dish soap helps clean the blood stains over dollar signs.

Twisting the knife— an anxious habit— Anakin stands beside your bed, watching your immobile boy. There’s a soft smile plastered on your face, you must be having a nice dream… too bad it won’t last long. Leaning down, the tip of the knife dances over your neck, careful— careful. Not yet. Those aren’t his instructions. Although his boss never specified the in-betweens.

His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps in your slumber. Your skin is aware of the intruder, the instincts kicking in. “Hey,” His voice is barely audible, but his warm breath sends a jolt of adrenaline like a lethal injection directly into your veins. “Wake up.”

Your eyes shoot open, body jolting forward only to be pushed back by the knife against your throat and his gloved hand over your face. There’s no need to use brutal force, it’s easy to fuel your fear; blue eyes staring into yours through the holes of the black ski mask. He can tell you are shaking— in fact, he can see it.

“Don’t move, don’t try to scream. If you do, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear. Smiley face, that’s why I like to call that,” He chuckles when he sees you shivering. Oh, to be the strong one grants him with a power that makes him feel alive. Who cares about repercussions when simple acts and sighs like your tears make him feel immortal? “Do I make myself clear?”

You nod weakly. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to run, to push him and throw him everything within your reach but you can’t move. Your body is paralyzed and for the first time in your privileged life, you realize something frightening. When he pulls back and lets go of you, the loud exhale that escapes your lungs pleasures him even further. Good. Everything is going according to plan.

It doesn’t matter how much money you have. You can die just like anyone else.

“See, I can imagine you already know why I am here,” Anakin continues, chuckling when you shake your head. “No? Uh, I thought you’d be smarter. Well, I guess money can’t buy intelligence.”

Your eyes flicker to his wrist, watching him twist the knife. At least he isn’t all over you. How can a human be so calm while toying with another’s future? As if it wasn’t a delicate situation, as if money was everything in the world— pathetic.

Stuttering, you run toward the only option your brain knows. “I’ll d–double the price. I’ll triple it,” Your legs move, hanging them on the edge of your tall bed. Anakin arches an eyebrow, he could’ve killed you for moving. Yet, he is somewhat interested in your offer. “I can pay much more than whoever hired you.”

“Oh, really?” Anakin laughs. It’s a cold, bitter laugh. There is no humor in it. Only cruelty. “And what makes you think money was the only thing I got paid with?”

“Who hired you?”

He laughs again. It has been seconds since you heard him laugh for the first time and you loathe the sound already. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, darling. Or maybe I’m lying. Maybe it’s just like the movies and I get a mystery envelope with money and your name. Would that make you feel better?”

He is definitely mocking you, which normally would raise your anger and bring out the worst in you— right now it seems like a bad choice. Anakin can’t blame you for questioning, every victim does, sometimes he grants them their wish— when they aren’t that important— sometimes he just does the job, hoping they die with their doubts as their last thought. Your life's on the line, it must be the first time someone has pierced your little bubble… so yeah, he can’t blame you.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

There it is. Classic. His favorite words. Anything means anything. Everything is fair in love and war— everything is fair at gunpoint. “Anything?’ He repeats. “It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before.” His sarcastic tone flies over your head. You cannot pay attention to anything else besides the ringing in your eardrums and the palpitations of your heart.

Anakin finds great joy in fueling the terror in your soul. It is something he wasn’t exactly born with— or at least, during his loneliest nights, buried in alcohol and money, surrounded by his guns and his ghosts. He isn’t afraid of them, they can’t hurt him.

“Anything,” You confirm, lip wobbling and tears streaming down your cheeks. His task was awfully simple, yet, there is something he must do first now that he sees you more clearly. Anakin doesn't have the pleasure to witness such a pretty downfall often.

In a swift move, Anakin lifts the knife over his head, smirking wider when you raise your hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. Expectant, you sob one last time before the pain comes, before the burning sensation of piercing skin and crimson blood.

Which never arrives.

The sharp blade pierces through the sheets and the mattress. Ripping the stitches and creating the most awful sound you have ever heard in your life. That could’ve been your face. Did he miss his shot? Is his aim that bad? Your vision is blurry due to the thick coat of tears, crystal clear and salty that trickle down like tiny diamonds.

“Money is not enough this time, sweetheart,” He coos at you, cupping your cheek and brushing your tears in a fake act of kindness. His pursed lips make your stomach twist. You never thought there’d be fates worse than death… but here you are. “I won’t kill you—” His words make your shoulder fall for a second as a smile dances on your chapped lips like the weak swing of a butterfly’s wings. “Yet.”

“What do you want from me?” You sob, placing your hands on your lap, not sure what to do with them. You are in no position to fight. You are under the mercy of a clear psychopath. Someone without morals, without ethics and values— under the claws of a monster.

The worst part? You don’t even know who is pulling the strings tied over the monster’s claws.

“Don’t be sad, sweetheart. I’m sure you will find it amusing— and if you don’t I don’t care,” If you weren’t begging for your life, his voice could’ve been attractive. Even his eyes. His fucking eyes that seem to pierce your soul. “You see that handle?” He points at the knife with his chin. “I want you to lift your cute nightgown and ride it. You can close your eyes and imagine a cock, I’m sure you’ve done it before from what I’ve heard about you. If I like the show, I’ll let you ride my cock— and if I don’t like it. I’ll kill you.”

“You cannot possibly ask me to—”

A small squeal escapes your lips when the muzzle of a gun comes in contact with your temple. The steel is frigid against your burning skin. There are no words left in your throat, if you weren’t terrified you would’ve thrown up.

“You don’t like to think, you don’t like to listen— I’m starting to believe you are actually stupid, princess. You either fuck that knife or die.” Your whimper. Irritating. Infuriating. Fucking lovely.

Lifting your hips from the bed, you kneel with the little strength you have left. Anakin never removes the gun from your temple, in reality, he presses it further, watching your skin dent slightly. Lifting your sheer nightgown, you clumsily hook your finger at the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with embarrassment.

“Please don’t make me do this,” You beg, losing balance momentarily as your panties hang from your ankle.

There is a storm echoing in his laugh. Like pouring rain falling over your heart before it even reaches your ears. “If you don’t do it, I’ll force you. I will enjoy it more… and then you’ll die.”

The flat tip of the blade handle feels like steel against your folds. The touch is feathery light, perhaps unintentionally gentle. You are glad there is a thick leather wrapped around it— otherwise, it might hurt even more.

Rocking your hips slowly, you close your eyes focusing on anything else. You will not enjoy this. You refuse to give him pleasure. If this is the way you die— at least you want to imagine you put up some kind of fight. Despite your constant thoughts— foolishly thinking your mind is stronger than your body— when the handle comes in contact with your clit, your body instinctively jolts. You stop. You don’t talk.

You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to enjoy it.

“Spread your legs wider and don’t stop moving. Don’t make me go there and open them myself,” His voice is low. “Show me how much you don’t want this.” His voice mixed with the adrenaline brings you to a borderline dizzy state.

Resuming your movements, you bite the inner part of your cheek, flinching when his free hand cups your breast. “See? Is not that difficult to obey. I know you are so used to getting your way, little princess. But not this time. Not with me.”

His thumb traces your nipple poking through the silk. You hate yourself for this— even more when you find a steady rhythm. Your clit grinds against the flat top and throbs, quickly begging for more. Hooking the barrel underneath the thin straps of your nightgown, Anakin lets them fall, exposing your chest.

“Don’t come. If you do, your tiny brains will make a bloody mess over your lovely canopy and walls. Now fucking ride it.”

The leather glistens with your arousal. It’s pathetic, humiliating, miserable. When you position yourself above it, when you flex your knees to fit it— that’s when everything you are— breaks.

The handle stretches your walls in a way that couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Your arousal helps but only much. Unhurriedly, you begin to ride it just like he commanded you to, just like you have to. Your pussy clenches around it, you can’t even fool yourself and think it is a dick. Nothing could help you now. No one can save you now.

“Seems to be you can listen sometimes…” Anakin observes, removing the gun from your skull to press it against the valley of your breasts. “Don’t think I can’t see how wet you are. Are you that deranged you are enjoying this?”

Are you?

Is he?

You just have to do this. Right?

Too many questions, no answers.

“Faster.”

Increasing your pace, the tears make themselves known again. You are enjoying it. Your walls are dripping, your pussy is begging for more. The slick sticks to the leather like a second layer of shine, the sounds your body is making are against your will— but you can’t stop moving. Anakin breathes loudly, his own excitement evident. You cannot see the outline of his erection underneath his black cargo pants but he feels it, throbbing, leaking, eager to bury itself in you. Hear you sob and feel you clench after every cry.

“So fucking wet,” He mumbles, pressing his lips against your sweaty neck. The soft cotton of his ski mask brushes over your skin, bringing you a nasty comfort. “Remember, if you come… you die.”

The muzzle now dances over your nipple, distracting you from the burn in your lower stomach for a second— when his hand finds your clit. Circling it quickly, roughly, Anakin exhales again right in your ear.

“I can’t wait to fuck you. I hope you are ready to die while I bury my cock inside you.”

A loud moan, mixed with a throat-ripping wail falls down your lips, body writhing and hips trashing. The handle is as deep as it can go, and before your vision goes white you feel the gun poking underneath your chin. Your hands curl around the hem of the nightgown you are still lifting, almost piercing the expensive and delicate fabric. Your orgasm is strong, it clouds your senses and for a moment the euphoria makes you forget how you just marked your destiny. The handle is sticky just like your thighs. The world is spinning.

Your life is ruined.

Just as your vision goes white, it goes black.

Monday. 10th.

Politics are known to be comparable to walking on thin ice. One false step and you sink— all the way to the cold and lonely bottom. Made only for the ones who can twist and turn others under their will and for those who aren’t scared of the nerve-wracking possibility of being a hero or a villain.

When your father offers you the vacancy for Campaign Manager you don’t hesitate to take the opportunity. Daddy dearest always serves opportunities such as these on a silver platter. Why would you refuse? Sure, a week before the presidential elections might be signing a death sentence, but why would you care? Even if you fall, your safety net is insured, secured and endorsed.

“Are you sure you can do this alone?” Natasha Andrews, your father’s assistant lowers her clipboard, focusing her dirty blue eyes on you from beneath her thin-gramme glasses. “We have a week before the election, these last days are crucial.”

“I’ll be fine!” You answer confidently. To have such confidence and naivety that being young gives you. You just feel invincible. “I read some of John’s final projects. A few venues and bookings won’t scare me.”

“I don’t think you are seeing the big picture here,” Natasha calls your name patiently. Removing her glasses, folding them and placing them next to her clipboard, you can already imagine a boring lecture about responsibility. You’ll be fine! “Your father has an image to maintain, a reputation to hold and the statistics are growing in his favor. This last week is to secure the win. Your father chose you for a reason.” Another way to say ‘There are high expectations. You better fulfill them.’

Huffing, you take her words as a weak attempt at an insult. You understand the big picture. You’ve been surrounded by the big picture since you can remember. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Natasha runs a hand through her ginger locks, taking a deep breath. She’s too old to deal with all this. “Look. I know you are young and I’m sure you have wonderful ideas for the campaign, but our time is limited. We can only continue with the schedule and hope for the best. If your ideas can be incorporated into the events then you are more than welcome.”

Always used to getting your way, you find baffling how someone who doesn’t know can defy you— or in your eyes, Natasha is doubting your capacities. Standing up, you point at her. Your manicured nail, painted a crimson red holds an almost accusatory tone. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone— not even your father. There is no chance of failure, because when you are young… you are on top of the world.

“No, you look. I know you are worried but I can do this,” You reply, not bothering to hide the patronizing tone in your voice. “My father knows I’m more than capable. You may not know me but you will. If I want to change the date of a venue, or if I want to make a goddamned pool party we will. I know what’s best, I know what will work.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at your words, her expression hardening slightly. “I never doubted your… abilities, Miss. We have a schedule we must follow. Nothing personal. It is your first day in your position. Can you even name three key supporters of Jonathan's campaign? Have you planned a meeting with potential donors for when your father wins the elections?”

The assistant has a point, but you won’t give up. You will never lose a fight.

“Easy, everything you say is too easy,” You narrow your eyes, placing both palms on the desk to hide how they shake from frustration. “If I say the word, my father will fire you. It doesn’t matter how long you have been working with him. I’m his daughter.”

That’s your wild card.

And as usual, it works.

Sighing through gritted teeth, Natasha rubs her temple. How can an educated girl like yourself be such a despicable person? “Go on.”

The smile that brightens your face beams like flames. Threatening to consume everything on its way. Everything is easy when you have the influence. You were born with it, what’s wrong with using it? “Alright… key supporters….”

The redhead scribbles down as you talk, from all you know she is playing hangman with your face on the stick figure, not that you care, of course. Your mood heightens as she just listens and comments on trivial things such as locations and schemes. You knew it would be easy. You just need people that follow you.

“We can do the last meet-and-greet at Cafe Serenity. My father invested in the project and the owner owes him that. I’m sure if we present the petition he will accept,” You talk, tangling the wires inside your head. “I can schedule an interview with Channel 7, Global News Network, and Insider Globe, they do most of the coverage during the elections and my father knows the actionist in GNN…”

“The meet-and-greet sounds good. It’s the perfect strategy to calculate the supporters Jonathan has. Plus the media coverage will be wonderful,” Her jaw clenches as she talks, but you are too busy staring at your nails to see the daggers coming from her eyes. “You’ve got a good grasp on this.”

“I know,” You smile, ignoring the fake smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. It’s an unknown number. A frown etches on your face as you pick it up. Excusing yourself from the table, Natasha nods, her blue orbs gluing to your back; if looks could kill…

Closing the door of the meeting room behind you, you bring the phone closer to your ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice breaks the silence. The unknown woman calls your name and your heart stops momentarily. It sounds vaguely familiar, and it carries a heavy accent that you can’t pinpoint from where.

“Lisseth? Is that you?” Your chirp echoes through the empty hallway. “I can’t believe you are back!”

Thank you for reading! ✩

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#ꨄ︎𓆪 anya's series!#hitman!anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker au #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin x reader smut #anakin star wars

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korlkorl · 3 days

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YAY! i greatly enjoyed your shoujo au!!! it was amazing to read, ty for your contribution to humanity u r doing god's work frfr!!! would you be willing to write a hanahaki au for the twst second years? (preferably an angsty ending, but if you would prefer something happier, that's 100% fine with me!! i'm not picky!!) 🤭♥️

hanahaki + second years

hanahaki: a fictional disease caused by unrequited love in which you vomit blood and flower petals (flowers tend to relate to the person you) and although there is an option for treatment, you become numb to emotions. if you don’t get treatment, you die.

(I decided to add how the twst seconds years would treat the disease— will they get treatment or not?)

not very good angst warning under the cut!!!

riddle rosehearts

riddle grew up alone, mostly. every time he seeked for comfort, for company, it’ll fall apart. it would always go wrong, he’d lose everything the moment he got too greedy.

riddle still struggled to properly face trey and chen’ya after all those years, even if he got better with it. it was too embarrassing, too lame. he felt like a loser. a sore loser who deserved nothing. oh sevens, did the world have something against him?

things were looking on the bright side. he was out of his mother’s furious grip, he has more freedom than he ever did (even if he goes by strict rules) he could make as many friends as he liked and hang out with them as much as he liked.

he still preferred being private, however. he liked his friends, you included. they were more understanding of him than any other member of the school. although he’d twist and turn in bed when he thinks back to his overblot (how embarrassing of me! he thinks) he would still much prefer being with those who accepted him a long time ago.

you weren’t too big on sweets. you liked them, sure, but the more you ate the more your mouth felt itchy. knowing riddle’s sweet tooth, sometimes, you’d secretly pass your unfinished slice of cake or unfinished strawberry tart to him. riddle rosehearts, the strict, germaphobic, lowkey a dictator, heartily took it.

if it were anyone else, he’d just stare at them in disbelief. but the thought that you bit into the very sweet treat, it threw him over the moon. he’d read of indirect kisses before, in cheesy romances he read in his spare time. he doesn’t know if this is actually an indirect kiss, but don’t make fun of him, he’s still learning!

riddle has a lot of firsts, like the first time he tried that strawberry tart, or the first time he learned that playing with friends is fun, or the first time he ever overblotted, or the first time he fell in love.

you were his first love.

he turns red when alone, imagining your face and your laughter and your joy. your silly mishaps that he has no heart on lecturing you over, or your inability to understand some of the assignments. he finds all aspects of you cute— wonderful? he doesn’t know how to describe what he’d feeling, but it gets him all giddy.

he’s frustrated often, the way he started blushing violently when you ever get in close contact with him and how you always, always seem to be unaware of this. oblivion would send you to hell.

he’s been feeling quite nauseous lately, probably because of his failed attempts of clumsily sending you signals about how he feels.

it was to a point where he threw up… petals? petals…??????? oh my god, he’s throwing up petals!!!

riddle distinctively remembers reading about this during his first year, a disease of romance, love, and failure.

his heart sinks. maybe that’s why you failed to notice.

things never go his way, riddle thinks. he’s always feeling alone. every time he gets greedy for comfort, he loses it at the highest point of his life. when things are getting better, it takes turns for the worse. that’s why riddle likes to follow the rules.

by his third year, riddle’s back to being his strict, controlling prefect. except something’s different, he’s not as angry anymore.

that’s to be expected, though. ever since the surgery, riddle has never been the same.

ruggie bucchi

he has grown up to treasure everything he has.

ruggie isn’t as financially stable as others, he wasn’t lucky to be fortunate enough to get what he wants, whenever he wants.

so when he does get what he wants, ruggie makes sure to keep it close to his heart like it means everything. most of the time, it does mean everything, all of it. his life.

he hardly gives away his things (please don’t mention the kids at the slums, he’ll turn awfully shy.) and takes anything he’s given.

when you would give him the tiniest amount of food, he’d gladly snatch it from your hands and walk away snickering.

easy target for food is what you are, he thinks.

most of the time, when people give things away to him, ruggie just assumes that it’s unwanted. he’d take leftovers no problem. it’s only when you’d constantly hand things to him, always have something to give him and remember he exists, does he think you’re odd. I mean, he’s fine with taking the forgotten leftovers, but what could he possibly do when you don’t forget him?

watch ruggie clumsily fiddle around with his fingers, scanning the area for your presence. he has learned to not worry, as you always manage to come find him everyday without fail. he feels noticed.

he starts to crave for that attention.

ruggie treasures things. he keeps them close in his heart very carefully. but what would he do when you steal his heart instead? where can he hide all the things that mean everything to him?

somehow, he doesn’t mind. he wants you to see him more, ruggie bucchi, his true self.

the crave he has for you is for some odd reason, unmet. you’re oblivious to his shy antics, the way his ears turn flat when you walk away or the way he holds onto the hem of your shirt just for a second longer.

notice him.

when you see the way he unconsciously covers his mouth whenever you meet eyes with him, or the how he’s constantly going to the infirmary, will you finally notice him?

there’s a trail of your favourite flowers.

ruggie bucchi keeps all the special things close to his heart. when you take his heart away, how else can he express his pathetic, unrequited love? by coughing up a disease ruggie would’ve called embarrassing and shameful if it weren’t for you.

azul ashengrotto

azul is sensitive. he notices things way too easily. the tiny, insignificant details of someone and how they react, he will notice. that is how azul finds out how a person truly feels about him.

even if azul and that other person were considered close friends, azul would still notice the tiny little details that make him unlikable to them even just a little. it’s been a habit for as long as he could remember.

everyone always had something they disliked about azul. it was fine with him, that was normal. everyone dislikes everyone about anything. it’s not like it deters long lasting relationships. azul shrugs it off, it doesn’t bother him. it’s comforting, even, knowing what people think about him.

so it was obvious to say it was near-horrid when no matter how much time azul spent time with you, he could not spot anything off about you, anything that said you didn’t like him.

as much as azul notices how people act around him, he also notices other people. he knows all their flaws, their good sides and their bad sides. even if he couldn’t read your thoughts about him at all, he still expected to see something out of the norm about you, a bad trait, something that made you human.

to him, you had none.

were you god? how come you were near-perfect in his eyes? during cold months, the tips of your nose and ears would flush pink like a cute plum while azul turned embarrassingly red. he thought it was ugly and didn’t make him look good, but there nothing to prove that you thought the same. he couldn’t tell anything about you at all.

you were like a confusing puzzle piece to him. unsolvable, unreadable, flawless. perfect.

it took a while to adjust, but his unwavering respect for you turned into wavering thumps of his heart and dodging eyes. maybe you weren’t perfect after all, maybe azul just likes you.

the terrible urge to impress you grew stronger everyday.

he wanted to look as perfect as you did to him.

but how can he possibly ever look perfect,

when he is sick?

hovered over the toilet, azul clutched his chest as petals slid out of his mouth as if it were apart of him. well, it is apart of him, I guess. his love for you is one with him after all.

azul is sensitive, but he tries not to show it. not only is he good at catching the little things, he’s quick to anger or get hurt. the best he can do is hide them. so he hides the feeble emotion he calls love and comes back after winter break just as the same. he’s dutiful and runs his business like he normally would, and still hangs out with you time to time. he just feels more… empty? you’ll never know why he seems to be this way, no one really knows about the surgery.

jade leech

jade is often avoided by many people.

people find him creepy, odd, off-putting, unnerving… and more comments he hasn’t bothered to find out about.

those names don’t really bother him. in fact, he enjoys it. he loves watching people squirm in fear over something he says out of the blue. It’s exciting to watch a person try to decide if they should run away or not, unaware of jade’s capabilities.

he’s used to people avoiding him. for the sacrifice of entertainment, he isn’t all that popular. jade leech is used to it.

you were different, however.

your simply didn’t find him creepy. anything he said that was weird, you’d laugh it off and say something weird back too. jade’s height, creepy smile or the way he talks, it doesn’t seem to throw you off at all. you’d smile and wave at him when no one else dared to, you’d easily graze your skin against his and pay no mind, you’d approach him without second thoughts. It was like mutual trust, something jade has learned is difficult to find when you’re him.

so you meant everything. you were just as new and exciting, a pleasant surprise from the predicted fear everyone else has. you made him feel… seen for the first time in his life.

soon, everything you did was like a horror movie (weird analogy, I know. but it’s jade leech we’re talking about!) the intensity of when the killer would approach, or when the character is alone and vulnerable, his heart pumps like wildfire as he watches expectantly to see what the new surprise would be. his favourite feeling was when the victim would die or escape, the tightening in his chest releasing as he excitedly watches what would happen next. that was you. you were his favourite feeling.

he loves the way your eyebrows moved in expression when you talked, he loved when you sneezed and looked around expecting a “bless you,” he loved the odd ways you attempted to hold your mug comfortably and most of all, he loved you. he love you very, very much.

jade leech is used to all kinds of things. he’s used to people avoiding him, he’s used to his brother’s tendencies to groan and complain at everything, he’s used to azul’s creepy capitalist tactics.

what he’s not used to, however, are the bubbly, excited emotions he feels when he gets to experiment with his beloved mushrooms, the way you took over his thoughts like the plague and most of all, he wasn’t used to the flowers spilling out of his mouth.

this was odd, per say. jade knew of the hanahaki disease. he knew of all the downsides of it. but he never worried, because, how could he, jade fucking leech, ever love someone so pathetically?

he hoped that you’d love him back too. he oh-so deeply wished he was just as new and exciting to you as you were to him.

the blood meticulously dripped amongst his fingers, flower petals sticking to it alike. he laughed at himself. he’s always imagined that if he’d ever possibly get this disease, it’ll be flowers related to the water like lotuses or water lilies. he never thought he’d start coughing up such pathetic land-dweller flowers.

it was fine, though. jade would get used to it, eventually.

because after all, he’d rather die than stop loving you.

floyd leech

floyd is scary, he knows that. He’s quick to anger, moody, tall and intimidating. He’s doesn’t really care, though. He just does what he wants. He doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal.

he likes fun surprises, something new, exciting. he thinks you meet that of that.

you’re not as scared as others, you respond to his pranks and squeezes positively, you respect his mood swings and he even caught a few glimpses of you defending him. he thinks you’re so cute!

it’s not odd to talk about the leech twins without mentioning you. floyd follows you every and jade just goes wherever floyd goes. it’s like a little trio.

you don’t get scared like others when he gets upset, return his squeezes (hesitatingly…he hugs tight!) and find him rather silly than scary.

jade thinks you were almost made for floyd, considering how well you two get along. although jade has been with floyd the longest, he can only tolerate to a certain point for you, however, it seemed to go endless. you were so much more patient with floyd then with anyone else. although floyd made be subtle about it, he’s grateful.

floyd adored you. you were everything he loves, for he loves you.

loved you.

loved? (love)

floyd started to ignore you. you’d tilt your head in confusion— you were upset. why would your best friend suddenly act like you weren’t even there? he wouldn’t even get mad, he’d just turn the other way.

it was only so long ago when floyd was hunched over in his bed from a terrible stomach ache. jade was horribly surprised to see bloody petals staining floyd’s bedsheets.

floyd never bothered with these things. for the first time in a while, he read a book out of his own volition to figure out what it was, only to rip the pages apart when he read what hanahaki was.

childishly declaring that he loves you no more, floyd would stay away from you like the plague, whilst secretly filling his system with flowers that will kill him for ever loving someone so deeply.

floyd is gonna disappear from your life completely eventually. you’d wonder what caused your best friend to suddenly hate you, while his family mourns over the loss of a loved one, as floyd refused treatment, because he foolishly decided to love you.

kalim al-asim

kalim grew up very sheltered in a loving family. The only concept of love he has is of his parents, who hold hands tightly and gush over the cutest things. they often warn him of the danger of love, and that he must be careful about the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

kalim, although clumsy and stupid, always kept that in the back of his mind.

you were like a breath of fresh morning air. growing up knowing very little, you were the newest, most brightest experience there was. kalim was sure you were the one. he was completely sure, why else would his heart thump so fast?

he’d hug you and hold your hand, give you gifts you could never even imagine having and tell you how much he appreciates you.

kalim hasn’t gone around to mouthing the word “love” yet, but he knows that you know anyway.

so when he started coughing up petals, jamil was quick to inform the al-asim family. kalim was confused, he didn’t understand. this love wasn’t unrequited, there was no way!

it doesn’t matter, though. he’s gonna continue loving you, you and him are gonna be happy together someday, eventually. maybe not in this universe.

kalim woke up in a hospital bed, his heart heavy.

he loves you. but he forgot what that feels like. he loved you. somehow.

jamil viper

jamil is smart. he’s smart and knows his worth. this is why he hates being in second, he knows he deserves so much more.

why does he always to have do worse than kalim? why does he always have to be second place? jamil is smart enough to know his potential. he also knows how much he’s holding himself back for the sake of hierarchy. he hates it.

it’s not a surprise when jamil finds himself unconsciously doing slower than certain people to appear normal. his main purpose in life is to not stand out, hide in the shadows, survive. like predator hiding from prey because if found, it will be caught by the silly humans.

you’re completely different from him, though. you’re as normal as a person can be, yet you aim to reach for the stars and hold it close to your heart. jamil understands your desire to outshine people all to well. he’s been in that spot, is in that spot. he pities you.

so he sticks around. he’d casually follow you, hang out whenever he can, help you with assignments so you can be the best version of yourself. he’s voraciously living through you. if you achieve your goals, that’s enough for him. at least he was apart of something meaningful for once.

it catches him off guard, however, when you encourage him to reach for his goals as well. it’s like you’re holding his hand and pull him amongst the galaxies to gently place your hands onto the hot touch of a star.

he knows that’s near impossible to reach, from the moment he was born, his life was chosen for him. but he thinks he could reach the small goals.

jamil secretly pats himself on the back for grazing against your skin for a second longer than usual, treat you to a nice meal or help you ace a test. he hopes that at least one of the goals he could reach in this lifetime is to be with you.

jamil is smart enough to know that he’s not just sick. not when blood trails down his chin to his arms, as flowers spill from inside him.

he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could have something for himself for once. not hold himself back, grasp tightly to what he wants the most.

jamil is smart enough to know his own worth. he’s definitely not worth enough to you.

silver

silver likes the little things. he enjoys the way birds chirp in the early morning, or the way the dandelion petals flow against the wind as he watches you scrunch your nose and blow on it. and then both of you guys start sneezing. ah, summer pollen, a reminiscent part of nature.

he loves the way you hold your pencil, the way you like to tie your shoelaces, how you cut your sandwiches. these small, unnoticeable traits catch his eye quite often, and he’s developed a fondness for them.

he’s a man of little words. silver doesn’t talk much, so when he thinks of these things, he never says it out loud. maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice how he felt about you.

he was so calming, and so gentle, it tugged at your heart when he’d smile softly and tilt his head ever so slightly so the cute birds could carefully place a beautiful flower crown on his head. he’s so princely, you think. a perfect knight in shining armour, loved even by the nature.

often you’d tell him how lucky any girl would be to be loved by him. your comments made silver hopeful.

silver is a man of little words, he likes to spend his days watching rather than showing. when he does finally speak his true thoughts, he genuine, honest. his words roll off his tongue so easily and smoothly, perfect fit for such a princely man (as you call him)

so when silver does finally open his mouth to speak, talk, say of what he felt in that very moment, he throat closed up. maybe he was nervous, maybe he was lame, because to both of your guy’s horror, blood spilled.

he didn’t really know what was happening. only when he felt the urge to throw up in the infirmary did he realize what was going on.

he was familiar with hanahaki. his father always told him stories of how fae would love so strongly to humans who hated them, that those who were unlucky would be induced to vomiting flowers.

when silver thought he was fae, just like his sweet old father, silver swore to himself that he’ll never love a human. now that he knows that he is, in fact, human, silver starts to doubt himself. maybe is, in a way, a fae.

it’s alright, though. silver is man of few words. he likes to watch rather than show. he doesn’t mind what could happen to him, he won’t tell anyone. he’ll just watch you from afar, filling his heart with melancholy love until he reaches his end. which might be soon, for he loves you so strongly.

a.n: my phone is on 6% as I type this I will edit this tomorrow morning when I wake up. sorry for replying so late I had tests coming up and I had to study!!! </3 thank you so much for the kind comments and I’ll catch up to requests soon! feel free leave any requests :3

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north-noire · 9 hours

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Check out the Hidden Hands AU fic here, if you want to see the actual narrative/output of the AU!

It's a Henry-Charlie centric AU, but the major characters are just as important :] (this is for anyone who's first time stumbling on this post)

Anyway, here's the Hidden Hands AU reference sheet masterpost I've been alluding to for months, kinda! These are mostly 1983-1985 (1985 is where my AU starts, but I think it's important to show the respective differences/timeskip since 1983.)

Here's a post describing how the Afton and Emily family generally are around 1985 (before Charlie dies), in an ask I answered.

The general story beats in terms of who dies first: Evan dies in 1983, then Charlie dies in 1985. Both Elizabeth and MCI kids die in 1987.

That's all I can say for the major story beats! I don't wanna share/spoil too much here, since it'll all be explored in the fic anyway.

Added my Michael timeline sheet here so it's a lot more organized, but there's more information about that and Michael's overall personality and timeline shift in this post.

Wanted to also add my Cassidy's reference/her family here, since she will be important in the story as well, albeit much later.

I hope everything makes sense here! Feel free to ask any questions in the comments/send asks about it, just know that I'm really slow with asks right now.

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 1 day

Text

We Must Know, How Did it End?

“It was tricky, really. Writing songs that come from a place of pain isn’t usually my thing,” Sirius says, plastering a polite smile onto his face. “It’s difficult to describe a feeling that’s so… overwhelming.”

Peter smiles back, and Sirius can see the empathy etched across his face.

“Okay, I think we have time for some audience questions,” Pete says, turning to the audience. Sirius follows his gaze to a crew member handing a mic over to a young woman.

“Hi, uh, hi. I was just wondering if your album is based on your recent breakup? With Remus?”

His name alone makes the blood freeze in Sirius’ veins. The fan isn’t wrong, his album is essentially all about Remus. It doesn’t stop his heart from stuttering at the mention of Remus. It brings memories that he’s been trying to write out of his system back to the front of his mind. They bring a lump into his throat, and he has to blink harshly to fight back any semblance of a visceral reaction.

Thankfully, Peter steps in.

“You know what? Let’s move on. Anyone else?”

In spite of a few grumblings, the microphone travels further, landing with another fan.

“Hey. I was just wondering if you ever think that Remus dated you for the fame? I mean, his follower count has doubled since you two-”

“No, I don’t think that,” Sirius cuts in sharply. Apparently, his need to defend Remus is stronger than his hurt at their breakup. Peter is opening his mouth to speak, probably to move on again, but Sirius isn’t ready to move on. “Of course I don’t think that. Remus’ talent speaks for itself. He doesn’t need me to be his way to break out in the dance world. We might not be together anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is still one of the most genuine people I have ever met. Honestly, his kindness is indescribable. Everything I said while we were together was true. That relationship was the realest thing I’ve ever had, okay? Us breaking up doesn’t diminish that.”

The whole studio has lapsed into silence, and Sirius is really regretting the way he went about that now. Even Peter’s watching him in shock. Eventually, he seems to remember his own job, clearing his throat and breaking out into a smile.

“Okay! It’s about time for us to move on…”

Sirius is pretty sure that he’s been in a trance for the past hour. He doesn’t even remember the trip back to his house. All he knows is that he’s been scrolling through his tagged posts as his manager, Benjy, shouts at him over the phone.

“This is, without a doubt, the most irresponsible thing you’ve ever done!”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Sirius grumbles under his breath. Unfortunately, Benjy has the ears of a fucking hawk.

“If you weren’t a public figure, and I wasn’t your fucking PR Manager, I would think it was sweet, Sirius! However, calling your relationship with Remus the realest thing you’ve ever had?! That gives tabloids every opportunity under the sun to call you obsessive!”

“Yeah, well, it needed to be said,” Sirius says decisively. He’s not wrong. In what world could anyone ever see Remus as anything less than kind? Yeah, they haven’t seen the way Remus would hold Sirius through his panic attacks, say the dumbest things just to watch him smile, or the dance. The one Remus dedicated to him. The one Sirius really should delete from his camera roll.

“God, Sirius, you’re so lucky that I actually like you.” Benjy interrupts his train of thought, thankfully, letting out a groan as Sirius refreshes Instagram for the fifteenth time. “However, now you need to lay low until people forget that this happened.”

“What? That I defended him? Just because he’s my ex doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to say anything nice about him!”

“Yes it does. You can’t say anything too bad, or anything too nice. You have to be neutral. Peter was about to gloss past the question, anyway!” Sirius rolls his eyes, grateful that Benjy can’t see him as he goes scrolling again. He’s being called obsessive in countless different ways by news outlets, people who hate him, and people who have decided that his and Remus’ breakup means that it’s time to take sides. As he looks through them, he’s barely even pausing.

Until he reaches a post with Remus’ face at the front of it.

As much as he knows that he shouldn’t, he wants to watch it. He’s spent a lot of time watching the videos he promised James that he’d deleted and crying, but those were videos Sirius had filmed himself. They were personal. He hasn’t interacted with anything that Remus has posted publicly. He doesn’t actually want to be a stalker.

This feels… different. Mostly because this one has his name on it.

‘REMUS LUPIN BREAKS SILENCE ABOUT EX BOYFRIEND SIRIUS BLACK:’

“Yeah, okay, Benjy, I’ll stay silent,” Sirius says quickly, zoning out.

“Oh, really? Thanks. That was easy-”

“Okay, bye.” He hangs up before Benjy can say anything else, immediately playing the video.

It’s from one of Remus’ livestreams. His face is flushed a slight red, like it usually is after rehearsal, sitting on the floor in his studio. Sirius hates how endearing he finds it. He’s just talking, comments rolling in and the radio playing, when Sirius catches the message. It’s just another one calling him a stalker, but it stops Remus in his tracks.

“Right, you all need to leave Sirius alone,” Remus says decisively. The way his name sits in Sirius’ mouth brings a lump into his throat all over again. He really needs to stop crying over Remus, it’s getting a little sad. Maybe he is obsessive. “He isn’t stalking me. I actually haven’t spoken to him at all. Listen, the- the breakup was amicable, okay? We don’t hate each other, and we really don’t need people taking sides. All he did was defend me, which he didn’t have to do. It was nice of him, yeah, but it doesn’t make him obsessive. He’s just being a good person, he can’t help that.” Sirius smiles to himself, face warming at the compliment.

Okay, he is obsessed.

Still, it’s so unbelievably Remus to be so willing to defend him. To immediately assume the best about Sirius.

Just when Sirius expects the clip to end, a different song starts playing. He recognises it straight away. It’s one from his new album.

‘ I told the moon about you… ’

Remus’ eyes widen at the words. At Sirius ’ words. He never has been any good at hiding the first thought that flits across his face.

“Sorry, I’m, er… I’ve got to go. Thanks for- for watching, yeah,” Remus says hurriedly.

That’s when the clip ends.

For what feels like the thousandth time, Sirius wants to be in the same room as Remus, to have the privilege of finding out exactly what is going on in his head. He wants to press his thumb against the furrow in Remus’ brow and watch his face relax. Christ, he just wants to touch him, really. His forehead, his hand, his shoulders, his waist, anywhere . With a groan, he drops his head into his hands. He’s actually pathetic. James is the only one who’s allowed to hear about this, and Sirius is pretty sure he needs a stern talking to from him right about now.

There’s a knock at his front door, which Sirius assumes is James. It’s like the man can read his mind. The knocking is a little… frantic, but James is bouncy, it’s not exactly out of the ordinary.

He walks slowly over to the door, reaching out and pulling it open.

The moment he catches a glimpse of the familiar amber eyes, every muscle in Sirius’ body freezes.

Remus.

He hasn’t seen him in three months. Not since he left Sirius’ house, got on a plane, and didn’t come back. Sirius has spent a countless number of minutes trying to recall every single detail about Remus, looking at photos of the two of them, wishing that he had spent more time etching every line, every freckle, into his brain. He thought he had, really, but he was right in his interview. Remus is indescribable.

For a moment, they just look at each other, Remus’ mouth slightly ajar as though he hadn’t expected Sirius to open the door. He almost seems like he doesn’t know how he got there.

Well, until Sirius speaks.

“M- Remus? What- what are you…?” He trails off, watching the way Remus’ features set to something much more sure.

“Sirius, I love you,” he says suddenly. They’re words Sirius never expected to hear coming from Remus again. “I’m still in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending that I haven’t regretted every single step that I’ve taken since I left here. I- God, Sirius, I think we made a mistake. I- I know what we said, what we agreed on. It was too difficult with our schedules, we were both being too distant, fighting over little things,” he lists everything like it’s pointless, as Sirius tries to get his brain to fucking wake up and work. “And I get it, Sirius. I really do get it, I understand, but I’d take thousands of fights over- over dishes, or hogging blankets, instead of having to do these months all over again. This is going to sound really sad, and really bloody pathetic, but I’ve watched the videos of you writing songs in my flat more time than I can fucking count since we broke up! You told the moon about me? I know that line. I’d know it anywhere. It’s the one right before I turned the camera off and kissed you. It just made me- I don’t know, I didn’t think hearing it like that would hurt so much.” He seems to be hit with a completely different emotion, some sense of regret, and it’s probably Sirius’ fault, since he doesn’t seem to be able to get his voice to work. He can sing night after night, go on countless talk shows, but apparently this is what it takes to render Sirius speechless. “I know I’m probably overstepping a boundary, and this is really fucking stupid of me, but I- I want to try again.”

Yeah, the words really aren’t going to come out. He’s going to have to find some other way to tell Remus exactly how he feels.

“If I didn’t say something I just know that I’d regret it for the rest of my life. So tell me to leave and I will. I’ll turn around and- and I’ll move country. You’ll never have to see me again-”

He can’t say anything else, because Sirius is kissing him.

He isn’t even sure when he made the decision to do it. It’s almost like a reflex, the first thing to come naturally to him.

There’s not a second of regret that comes with it, though.

Before he can even figure out where he got the idea to do that, Remus’ arms are around Sirius’ waist, pulling him closer and holding him secure, warm, safe . His lips are soft, so familiar that Sirius wants to cry.

Actually, he is crying.

Tears start rolling down his face as he pulls away to look at Remus. Thankfully, Remus is crying himself, and somehow also grinning like an idiot, which Sirius can genuinely say is the most beautiful sight he has ever had the privilege to behold.

“Oh, my god, I love you, Remus. Moony, I love you so much,” he says quickly, hands reaching to cup Remus’ face.

“So- you- do you want-?”

“To start again? Pick up from where we left off? Anything, darling. Anything. I’ll take whatever you can give me, if it means I don’t have to try to move on. You’re not someone I can get over. I’ve tried, and I’m convinced that it’s fucking impossible,” Sirius says, making Remus laugh breathlessly and drag him back into a kiss. Not that Sirius is complaining. He would let Remus drag him anywhere. Remus is his everything. His world.

Oh, my darling, how could I ever have let you go?

#it's been a WHILE since i've written a oneshot #and I'm also not sure what this is #but I lowkey love it #they're so silly #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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bratbutcute · 1 day

Text

A sparkle in the night

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pair: Alastor and Vox. A bit platonic, a bit romantic, could be read in different ways.

Disclaimer: Nothing other than it’s a SFW tickle fic. They are also slightly ooc but tbh we don’t really know since I’m describing a moment that happened before the series takes place sooooo… who knows (but honestly, Alastor is much too sweet to be canon).

Also I had fun with some fonts I found online, I don’t know if that is a problem so if you find difficulties reading please tell me and I’ll change it!

Vox is stressed and wants to reminisce old times, old friends, old feelings.

I got the idea for this from this fic by @starlight-write. I wanted to explore Alastor and Vox’s relationship before whatever happened between them.

I hope you all enjoy it!

~~~

Hell had changed a lot since Vox first arrived. He had met many Overlords who now weren’t ‘alive’ anymore, killed by Angels or by other sinners. He had seen Hell change its geography, different shops rising and then succumbing to nefarious fate.

He had met friends along the way, and he had lost them too.

Vox had learnt that the afterlife was just as complicated and confusing as his past life: people were hard to read, it was hard to understand their needs and, honesty, he wasn’t very good at accommodating them. Of course it was easy to solve people problems work wise (most of the times he was the one creating a fake problem and giving the public a new product as a solution), but when it came to personal business he couldn’t just hypnotise everyone. Well he could but…

He was alone in his personal room, monitors all over him, phones and computers all around him. Even if he was alone he was constantly under the spotlight. He knew he had to prove he was stronger. That he wasn’t scared of anything or anyone.

That’s how he would spend the majority of his afterlife: surrounded by his constant eyes, recording every movement he himself ever made.

So that’s why he felt so excited when he turned off every single monitor except for the bigger one in front of him. He shut down every camera or microphone around him. Unrecorded. Unregistered moments.

A shiver ran down his spine.

After seeing that ghost of his past back again after seven years of absence he had to see something. Something that was his and his only.

What he was looking for was an old memory, one that he had to update digitally from his old headset.

Everything was meticulously categorised so it didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for.

The video started.

And he was almost 45 years younger, he had a different - and much heavier - headset and an ‘old pal’ next to him.

They were in the middle of an animated conversation in a remote bar in the pride ring. Everybody was keeping their distance from them and the moody bartender kept sending them drink after drink.

«Television is much more than photography you radio obsessed demon. Television is alive, it’s thrilling!» Vox exclaimed standing up and stomping his foot on the chair in front of him. Alastor looked at the action with little to no reaction, his usual smile plastered on his face.

«You, young man, are as loud as a cow at the slaughterhouse. That is in no way an Overlord behaviour.» he said squeezing his shoulder and inviting Vox to sit again.

Vox blinked in confusion - and slight worry because of the metaphor - before pouting as a scolded child. He got himself back on the high stools next to the counter dangling his feet.

Alastor poured another whiskey in his glass.

«I admire your enthusiasm, but you have to understand that Hell is different from Earth. You cannot show demons your… moving pictures and expect them to simply follow you. You need to plan. To be strategic. Logical.» he offered the drink to Vox, who looked at the goldish liquid with skepticism.

Alastor’s smile grew bigger. «A peace offer?». Vox sighed and gulped it down in one shot, much to Alastor’s disapproval.

«I think you’re complicating your life too much! I can hypnotise people!» he pointed at his eyes as the pupil changed, but Alastor was unfazed.

«It doesn’t work on me.»

«Yeah I still have to understand why…» he sighed as his head started to spin. His face became a bit foggy, just for a moment.

That made Alastor grin wider. «Is the strong and powerful aspiring Overlord feeling a bit dizzy?»

«Fuck you I am not. You’re just-» he looked down at his empty glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it. «I am an Overlord! ‘M not aspiring to be anything you pompous-» but he was cut off by Alastor cupping Vox’s hands with his and helping him pour the drink. Vox’s heart skipped a beat as his antennas sparkled.

«You were saying?» he hummed, fully aware of what he was doing.

«Fuck you.»

Alastor’s smiled softened «Charming.» and Vox smiled back, rolling his eyes.

They had these kind of conversations every time they hang out. They would go to a bar and sit far away from everyone, start bickering, try to get a deal one from the other only to call it even and repeat this cycle every few days. Vox kept convincing himself that these encounters weren’t a big deal but things like that, like that genuine smile, made him doubt that.

Vox drank his whiskey quickly, just to see Alastor’s ear flicker in dismay, a gesture Vox had learnt to recognise over the years.

He took the bottle and refilled his and Alastor’s empty glass.

«You do not understand what it means to be an Overlord just as much as you do not understand how to enjoy your drink.» Alastor said turning on his stool and leaning with his back on the counter.

«AH! Alcohol gets you drunk. That’s the big meaning behind it.»

Vox was about to chug down his whiskey when he felt something brushing over his side. As he yelped Alastor snickered, trying to camouflage it with a cough.

«AÆl- he glitched - what are you doing?»

«As you can see I am not doing anything.» he said raising his hands to prove his point. Vox straightened his back, looking at his surroundings in confusion.

His fogged brain was trying to process whether there was a threat or not. He felt electricity build up in his body.

As he raised his glass, he felt it again, something brushing his side, just lightly, but, when he turned, his eyes could only scan thin air.

«What is going on?» he mumbled putting the drink down.

Alastor didn’t answer, but he was having fun. Vox could see it by that stupid tail of his that was slightly wagging.

If it was his doing… oh no.

The tendrils came out of nowhere and wrapped around his torso, caressing his stomach and sides slowly.

Vox felt electricity between his fingers and in his antennas. He clamped his mouth shut with his hands, slightly kicking his feet.

«Is everything alright Vox?» Vox shook his head, little sparkles all around him. That fucker…

One of those tentacles circled around the center of his tummy, caressing the blue skin. He could feel the tip lightly scratching the sensitive area, making his body tremble.

It was so agonisingly slow. The gesture felt both sweet and mean, as if it were Alastor’s fingers toying with him.

Then he increased the pace.

Vox’s face started trembling, the image of his expression danced on the screen for a moment, deforming his flat features. Alastor came closer to his prey, enjoying every second.

«Maybe it would be better if you just let yourself…-» the tentacles that were around his stomach changed direction and dug in his hips «…Laugh.»

Vox giggles sparkled, as static electricity vibrated around him. He tried so hard to contain himself, but once the first chuckle was out he could not stop.

«AHAHAHAHL nohohoho.»

«No? But I’m not doing anything my dear! I think you had one too many of these.» he said sliding away the man’s drink, saving it from being destroyed.

«Yohohou knohow dæ-ámňņ well what you’re dohohoing.» Vox managed to say while trying to push his tentacles away.

«Of course I do.» he got closer, more tentacles coming from all around him. Vox felt his heart pounding in his chest, his face a mixture of fear and excitement. A stupid wobbly smile was plastered on his screen.

«And you’re enjoying every single second.» had Vox been a little less drunk he would have probably tried to retort, but all he could do was stare at Alastor’s tendrils.

Two of them wrapped around his wrists, raising his hands.

«Oh noho don’t y҉̗͚͚̯̋̏̍̑O̸͎͕̒̽͐̏U҉͓̦̰̘̌́̏̾͆ DARE ALASTOR!» the tentacles danced in front of him, circling around his underarms. Two of them were near his sides, and no matter how hard he tried to pull at his restraints he couldn’t free himself.

«Oh how I like seeing you like this.» Alastor sighed «So helpless.»

«Ahahahahahl Ihihi ha-hatehehe yohohor stupid gahames.» he protested. He was still sat on his absurdly high stool, his feet trying to touch the floor to push himself back. But there was nowhere to run.

Every demon in the place had already fled, believing that the Radio Demon had found his new victim. Well they weren’t completely wrong.

«Do not lie to me.» Alastor caressed Vox’s screen with a single finger, and fake sweat flashed on his face. «You love my games. And besides, a powerful Overlord like you should laugh at the face of danger.» that actually made Vox titter.

Anything said by Alastor made him laugh.

«Let me see your smile.»

All of the tentacles attacked at the same time, some caressing his skin, some scratching at the fabric of his clothes. They were under his arms, on his stomach, meaningly attacking his hips.

The laugh that left his throat gave Alastor goosebumps. It was loud, the loudest he had ever heard from him and it was so… carefree.

All the sense of control, the pressure of becoming a powerful Overlord, the high standards the man held on himself all crumbled down. And he was just helplessly laughing in front of his friend, eyes closed, not afraid to be hurt.

Unfortunately for him he was definitely too sensitive though and the moment a tendril flicked his antenna he started to glitch.

«NOHOHOHOHŒĦØ-»

A spark of electricity made the entire place blackout for a moment, before the lights came back on. Alastor looked at the display of power both amazed and awed.

The man was really strong.

«Be careful my friend-» Alastor’s voice came from much closer than before «We wouldn’t want you to short circuit would we?»

He decided to give him a little break.

The moment the tendrils freed him, Vox turned his back and held the counter with both of his hands, looking for stability.

He could not stop the giggles and titters leaving his body, feeling even drunken than before even though the alcohol was starting to wear off.

However, before Vox could stop laughing, a single tentacle snuck under the his shirt, through his sleeve, slowly and gently caressing his underarm with its tip. The small movement was driving Vox mad.

He collapsed on the counter, laughter now pouring out of him. His feet were kicking the air. The free arm was pounding on the surface, not lucid enough to try to free himself.

He let his head rest on the table, the screen tilted toward Alastor.

«Yohohouh bihihihitch.» he giggled before trying to pry away a new tendril that was slipping under his shirt, targeting his stomach.

His feet kicked harder and quicker as he started to hiccup. «Ihi- IHĮĦĮ- chahaæn’ț.» his voice changed and distorted.

Alastor drank another glass, closing his eyes and enjoying the flavour.

«Sooo» he stood up next to the giggling mess. «Do we wanna make a deal?» he asked making his tentacles stop their torture and back away.

Vox took a few seconds to compose himself before lifting his head and facing the other demon.

Giggles were still stuck in his throat, threatening to leave his body at every word. «A deahal?» he straightened his back and fixed his shirt, now turning his entire body towards the friend.

«I’m not selling my soul for some T̵̲̫̈́̉͗̂͆-tickles. You can’t be that stupid.»

«I am not, my friend. And for once I do not care for your soul! Oh no no no! I would like…-» he let the anticipation roll on Vox’s nerves as he approached him with twitching fingers. «-for you to never drink whiskey in such an inconsiderate way. You either taste your liquor or you don’t drink at all. You do not gobble your alcohol. You understand that young man don’t you?» and as he pronounced the last sentence, he started tracing invisible circles on Vox’s sides.

Vox closed his eyes and the giggle that escaped his lips was a mixture of ticklish agony and amusement.

«Are you finding my request funny?» his fingers danced on his sides.

«Oh c’mohohn Ahahal.» he kicked his feet again, very careful not to hit the demon in front of him. «Ihiht is fuhuhucking hilariohohohus.» he managed to say.

Alastor was not amused.

«Well if you think this is hilarious I cannot imagine what you’d think of t̷̥̲͎͇̤̒̈́̔h̵̳̪̰͋̊ȉ̵̭̦̰̊̉̒s̶͈͉͙͕̥̅̚.» as his voice distorted he drilled his thumbs in Vox’s hips, scratching slightly under his clothes.

Vox’s face became black for a few seconds, before returning to his loud self, pounding with his free hands on Alastor’s chest.

«Such a sweet sound.»

«Ḍ̷̙̙̪̏́̏̒͊e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿l̸̳͓͔͇̗̋͌̈ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄.» his glitched and distorted voice came so soft to Alasto’s ear.

Alastor stopped with a chuckle.

«You enjoyed it.» he said before stepping away.

«Oh well don’t think I didn’t notice your tail wagging.» the tv demon whispered with a smile on his face.

Alastor turned himself, hiding his back and his stupid soft tail, a small blush colouring his cheeks.

Vox laughed again, a genuine laugh, and then grabbed his own glass. The older man way eyeing him, fingers ready to summon his power once more.

Vox drank slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste.

Alastor smiled at him, the genuine smile reserved to these late night, where the alcohol in their veins made their heads lighter and their words easier to leave their lips.

The words Alastor pronounced forty-five years ago echoed in the empty room. They sounded sincere, no filter altering them, just honesty and liquor on his tongue.

«You’re like a sparkle in the night Vox. You make this dark world brighter with your smile. Remember that»

Vox closed his eyes and let out a sight. He hugged himself for a moment and let those words sink in, burning his soul.

He allowed himself to feel this way for a few seconds, before turning everything off and straightening his jacket.

He had to go now.

He needed to find out what that pompous old prick was planning.

~~~

I feel like I’ve been working on this fics for a month, but it’s actually been a couple of weeks.

I loved exploring Vox and Alastor’s dynamic and showing Alastor being kind of a mentor for Vox.

Initially Valentino had a part in this fic, but in the end his role got cut off, but who knows! I might explore their relationship and how it affected Vox and Alastor in future fics! In this universe (yeah, the one I created pretty much for this single tickle fic) Al and Vox originally had a strong relationship, something between platonic and romantic, that got ruined when Vox met Valentino and started hanging out with him (Even though I strongly believe that in the serie Vox was the one that fell in love and Alastor was just trying to get something out of him and eventually got tired of Vox and left him)

The first scene felt really like when Hamilton and Burr go drink together at the beginning of the musical ahahahaha.

I don’t know when will I publish the new fic, it will take me a long time before I am able to write so much again.

Let me know what you think guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #lee!vox #ticklish!vox #ler!alastor #i hope it’s well written I’m stressing so much #i started writing with no idea for a plot #but i can totally see Alastor getting mad for not drinking in tge ‘right way’#and Vox being an impatient little shit about it #idk I love them so much #and really I need to get lee!vox out of my system

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catgirlredux · 1 day

Text

It’s not super common, but sometimes a pilot falls in action while their HAK remains operable. In events like this, commanding officers will usually order a new pilot to be assigned to the chassis - and the Doors pity the poor fool who gets the charge.

We’re not entirely sure how, but HAKs frequently store a backlog of sorts of their previous pilot’s brain patterns. When a new operator is introduced to the unit… well, it’s absurd but I reckon the HAK doesn’t like it. That’s the best way I can describe it; these machines have a preference for their old pilot, and they need to make sure everything is as close to “normal” as possible.

It starts with the pilot reporting hearing voices. Usually they’re helpful, they give the pilot advice in battle situations and whatnot. I remember one kid, must’ve been no older than 24, who swore she’d heard someone whisper to her to dodge a missile she had no clue was coming.

Our scientists say that they’re“false memory hallucinations” but the pilots call em “family”. But these aren’t some helpful sprites; and that ain’t the end either.

Secondhand pilots start to lose track of things. Sometimes they report feelings of dissociation; legs too long, faces too thin. Some pilots start to feel something like gender dysphoria, others get paranoid or anxious where they previously were fine. They experience dysmorphia so extreme that many attempt to modify their bodies to satisfy the mech’s desires. They all start to forget their names - instead, they demand to be called by the same sign as the previous operator for their HAK.

At the same time, their piloting skills increase. They pull maneuvers they’ve never even tried before, and all secondhand pilots have at least a 250% mission success rate. Probably why the higher-ups still keep reassigning pilots like this; it’s just too lucrative to have an operator with twice as much experience.

We have three of these pilots in our division. They’re freaky - even more so than regular HAK operators. They have scars on their hands and legs from where they tried to adjust their lengths, and they move uncannily, like some alien creature infesting a human shell.

There’s a rumor that they’re experimenting with subsequent iterations of inheritance, seein how many souls they can cram into one body I guess. God only knows what that’ll be like.

#cheetah writing #mechposting #mecha #heavily armored kinesosuits

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drdemonprince · 2 days

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Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself. I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that. Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.

Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.

I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.

I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.

transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.

if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.

ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.

maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.

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misshoneyimhome · 6 hours

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Inexperienced reader marked up Willy's neck while sitting on his lap. His desperate groans forced her to bite down harder than she had before as they grinded against one another. She felt her heart rate speed up as her breathing became shallow. Willy's body began to tense up as he let out a loud moan. She released her grip and pulled away, her cheeks burning. Are you gonna try & hide them?" You say, pulling away with a pout on your lips. Willy shook his head, a mischievous smile on his face as he pointed his index finger at her. "No way," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm gonna show them off." They are both possessive in their own right.

Mmm yes, they're definitely possessive babe! And we them for it 😉

So, this chapter turned out to be rather soft, yet still filled with loads of smut - and I just hope you all enjoy it 😊🤍

[casual outing] [Hair tucking]

Tropes & warnings; jealous!Willy, Jealous!reader, Smut 18+; fingering, handjob, penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, light spanking, cum inside, oral sex (m receiving), more penetrative sex (p in vi), cum shot, praise!kink;

Word count; 5.6K

"God morgon, prinsessa," = Good morning, princess

"God morgon, min prins," = Good morning, my prince

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @Fortheloveofnylander @justwanderingbutneverlost

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XV I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

Navigating life as an NHL girlfriend always came with its share of highs and lows. And as the regular season drew to a close and the playoffs loomed closer, you found yourself experiencing the bitter side of the journey.

Your feelings for your boyfriend William Nylander remained steadfast regardless, yet the strain on your relationship was becoming palpable.

Describing the final weeks of March as tough felt like an understatement; victories against the Oilers followed by losses to the Hurricanes and the Devils, then another win against the Capitals and the Sabres. It was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved.

And after each game, you did your utmost to either console William or provide him with unwavering support. But it wasn't always a straightforward task.

While William typically kept his emotions in check in public, behind closed doors, he was gradually becoming more open. The topic was somewhat delicate, with several small discussions sparked by his seemingly too calm demeanour, yet you encouraged him to let it out.

As you'd discuss the games on your way home, he'd often brush it off, insisting that everything was fine, and they simply needed to perform better next time. And he wasn't entirely wrong. It was perhaps the healthiest mindset to maintain mental stability. Yet, beneath the surface, you sensed there was more to the story, something simmering beneath his composed exterior.

But when William avoided delving deeper into the matter, you decided it was best to table it, at least for the time being.

As April began, the stakes grew higher than ever. The Toronto Maple Leafs teetered on the edge of playoffs, demanding undivided attention to games and training. Consequently, you found yourself inadvertently assuming the role of a housewife, managing grocery runs, meal preparation, and dog-walking duties, especially when William's trainer couldn't spare the time. And balancing your own work responsibilities with being a supportive hockey girlfriend was gradually becoming overwhelming.

Just weeks ago, amidst some wonderful moments shared with William, discussions ventured into territories like finances and the integration of your lives, leading you to make the decision to give up your apartment and fully commit to living with him.

However, as tensions simmered within the walls of your spacious condo, each evening seemingly hotter with unresolved arguments, you reached a breaking point. So you opted to spend a few days at your own place. It wasn't about avoiding William but rather acknowledging the toll these conflicts were taking on you, and recognising you needed a breather before it got too tense.

You knew the conversations weren't too bad, at least not as per what some of the other girlfriends and wives had shared with you. It was simply around this time of year when the players tend to turn everything into a debate at home. Yet it felt as if the world would come crashing down if you kept it going.

It would typically start with you attempting to console William, and then it’d escalate.

"Come on, Willy, just talk to me – that's what I'm here for,” you spoke firmly.

"There's nothing to talk about. Just leave it, y/n,” he avoided your attempt for a conversation.

"Look, it's obviously bothering you – I can sense it..."

"Oh, so now you can feel what I feel? Great talent there, y/n..." William almost snorted.

"That's not fair, Willy... All I want is to try and help..."

"But there's nothing you can do to help! It is what it is."

"Stop saying that! All I want is to support you – there's no need for you to be a dick about it!"

"Well, that's just how it is! You knew that when you got into a relationship with me..."

"Yes! I knew this would be a challenging time, and I was prepared for it – but you also knew you were getting into a relationship, so now you have to accept that you're not alone in this anymore. I'm here to support you, William Nylander, whether you like it or not!"

And with that, the discussion came to a close. It was a delicate balance, wanting to show support while giving William the space he needed. Meanwhile, he needed to understand that you would always be there for him, ready to lend a listening ear, and he couldn't simply push you away when he didn't want to confront his emotions.

So, after a few trial-and-error attempts, you somewhat figured it out.

Yet, stepping into your familiar home brought a sense of relief. Within your own walls, away from the chaos of hockey and media scrutiny, and the unanswerable questions at work about the team's performance, you found tranquillity.

Being apart from your boyfriend for a few days, even though you were in the same city, wasn't easy. But it felt necessary.

And for William, it did provide some focus on his training and the upcoming match against the Canadiens.Deep down, he understood that you weren't trying to leave him, though a part of him feared it. He recognised that you needed time and space, just as he often did, to concentrate on matters beyond the minor disputes at home.

And as the Leafs returned from Montreal, having officially secured their place in the playoffs, it felt like things were returning to normal. Back in your shared home, wrapped in each other's arms, it was pure celebration. You were practically inseparable upon his return, elated from the victory.

Sunday was solely dedicated to celebration, and in his role as a gracious host and teammate, Mitch had extended an invitation to the team for dinner at his restaurant. It was meant to be a relaxed evening, bearing in mind the upcoming game against the Penguins the following day, and with the tense and challenging times ahead, everyone saw it as an opportunity to enjoy some calm before the storm.

However, as you moved about the condo, getting ready for the evening proved to be a bit of a challenge.

"Willy," you giggled as you struggled to put on your outfit, standing in the walk-in closet wearing nothing but your underwear. "You really need to let go so I can finish up."

"Hmm," he hummed as he embraced you, burying his face in your neck and planting kisses while his hands wandered over your body, eventually settling on his favourite spot: your ass. "But then you'll just put on clothes... and I prefer you without..." he teased, pulling back to meet your gaze with a mischievous grin.

"Well, I'm sorry, but that would be highly inappropriate for a restaurant outing," you chuckled as you gently wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body lightly against his.

"Or... maybe we skip the dinner... and just stay in here, where we can both be naked," he suggested seductively, and you couldn't help but smile and shake your head gently.

"You can be such a brat sometimes – this is your team, Willy, and we both know you'd love to be with them for dinner," you reasoned with a playful glint in your eye. While the idea of staying home, naked and cuddled up with William was tempting, you also recognised the importance of gatherings like tonight's.

"Hmm," William merely hummed. "I suppose I'll have to... maybe then, try and persuade you."

William's chuckle was nothing short of cheeky and seductive, and you couldn't help but emit a squeak as he hoisted you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom where he playfully tossed you onto the mattress. It was a typical Nylander move, and once he had that dark look in his eyes, there was no stopping him from giving in to the sexual tension, from feeling him inside you as he elicited cries and moans from your lips.

And tonight, even before dinner, was no exception.

As William captured your lips with his, you were immediately drawn into his touch, completely captivated as his tongue danced with yours. Your lips moved in sync, your hands clutching his blonde locks tightly as his body pressed against yours, igniting a hunger and intensity filled with raw lust and desire. And before long, he freed his already hard member from his boxers, discarding your lacy underwear in the process.

You knew this wouldn't be one of those drawn-out sessions where William took his time eating you out, ensuring you reached climax multiple times before satisfying himself. Instead, it was a quick, eager, and playful encounter, where you started out by stroking his shaft, eliciting moans from him, while he moistened two fingers with saliva and inserted them into your core.

The kisses were fervent, occasionally interrupted by moans and heavy breaths. Hands explored each other's bodies, drawing each other closer until William abruptly pulled away. And in one swift motion, he turned you around, knelt behind you, lifted your ass, and entered you.

"Fuck yes..." he groaned deeply as he effortlessly filled you, hitting all the right spots with ease.

"Mmm, yes, Willy..." you moaned in tandem with his deep sounds, quickly succumbing to primal passion. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, while William's hands firmly grasped your hips as he thrust into your warmth. It was far from romantic; it was raw, unbridled passion as William intensified his pace, his hips colliding with yours, his heavy breaths mingling with your loud cries.

William was simply overcome with desire for your body, but knowing he wasn't one to climax too quickly, he also knew he had to exert force to prevent the encounter from dragging on.

And caught in the heat of the moment, he couldn't restrain his actions. His thrusts were powerful and unrelenting, his hand finding your long hair and gripping it tightly as he increased his speed.

"Fuck... Willy!" you cried out as he piston deeper and faster with each thrust. Pleasure surged through you, tears threatening to spill from the sheer intensity as your body surrendered to his forceful advances. Your core clenched around his relentless shaft, your walls overstimulated, and your cunt dripping with every movement. "Shiii- Willy... Oh god, I'm gonn—"

You couldn't even form coherent words as he pulled your head back, intensifying his movements even further. And you were certain his thrusts would leave a mark on your skin, yet in that moment, you couldn't care less.

William's actions were so fierce and dominant that you had to close your eyes and surrender to him completely. Your body belonged to him, and you had no desire to challenge his power. Instead, you allowed ecstasy to consume you entirely, your moans growing louder and louder as your orgasm surged through your body, mind, and soul, causing you to scream his name for all to hear.

"Fuck, yes... that's my good girl," William praised, maintaining his movements as he felt his own climax nearing. "I fucking love this ass..." And with a swift motion, he let go of your hip to deliver a firm smack to your cheek.

Your wet core seemed tailor-made for his cock as he pounded into you with incredible force, his shaft drenched as it slid in and out of you, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. With each thrust, he increased his speed, pushing himself closer to the edge, and his deep grunts filled the air as he shut his eyes and moaned deeply, releasing himself into your depths.

The experience was nothing short of amazing and intense. It took a few minutes for both of you to catch your breath and regain your strength before slowly disentangling yourselves from the position. No words were necessary. Your core was sore and tingling, coated with William's release as he withdrew, yet your mind was in a blissful state, completely consumed by the rush.

And William couldn't help but admire his handiwork as he noticed the slight redness on your skin from his actions. With a playful grin spreading across his lips, he gently caressed your cheek before placing a tender kiss on it.

"Fucking love this ass," he repeated, this time softer and filled with desire, causing you to look back at him with a chuckle.

"You're a real problem, Nylander..."

"What do you mean?" he chuckled darkly.

"Look what you've done. Now we both have to shower again and get dressed, meaning we'll be late for dinner..."

It was a familiar scenario. William was notorious on the team for always being late, and for the past four months, you had been one of the main reasons for that. Your sex life had always been adventurous, but it was the spontaneity that made it even more fun. And William made no effort to hide it from anyone.

"Well, then we better get moving," he simply chuckled before getting off the bed with a wide grin.

"Finally, you guys decided to show up!" Auston exclaimed as you entered, everyone already seated.

"Still running late, Willy," Mitch chimed in with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but I bet it's not entirely his fault this time," Järnkrok added with a grin and a wink, causing you to blush slightly as you couldn't deny the truth. Yet, you were quick with a retort.

"Well, at least he's getting some action, unlike some others," you said with a cocky smile, eliciting loud 'oooohhhh's from the players, with William laughing loudly beside you.

And the evening unfolded beautifully, as always. Mitch and Stephanie were excellent hosts, and the upscale restaurant buzzed with nothing but laughter and conversations. The delicious food delighted your taste buds, and the atmosphere was overall filled with joy.

And as everyone anticipated the approaching game, it was evident that everyone needed this evening to unwind and simply enjoy each other's company. Yet, one small detail disrupted your comfort.

"Hey, are you okay?" William whispered as he noticed your slight movements in your seat.

"Hmm," you simply nodded before leaning closer to him. "Though... I'm a little sore, Willy," you whispered, unable to suppress a chuckle.

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow, flashing a satisfied smirk that earned an eye-roll from you.

"Yeah... you were a bit rough, mister," you smiled.

"Hmm, thought you liked it when I'm rough," he grinned, a statement you couldn't really refute. A significant part of your sex life often involved dominant and submissive play, and truth be told you had no complaints.

"Hmm, maybe I do," you softly admitted. "It's just... not easy to sit when your lady parts have been pounded like that..."

Biting his lower lip, William couldn't resist voicing his naughty thoughts. "Well, then I suppose we'll just have to keep practicing until you get used to it."

Even among close friends and their families, the two of you couldn't control your banter. However, as the night progressed, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

After the third course, you joined a few of the ladies in the bathroom, engaging in heartfelt conversations and sharing experiences from the past few weeks.

"Don't worry, y/n," Aryne spoke sweetly. "It's just the playoffs weighing on him. William will be back to his usual self in no time – it just requires a bit more patience from our side this time of year." The other girls nodded in agreement.

Their words were comforting and reassuring. Being your first time dating a professional athlete, you needed their encouragement and support. And after all, most of them had dealt with their husbands and boyfriends throughout their careers.

"How about a drink?" Tessa then suggested with a smile, earning enthusiastic agreement from the group, including you.

And as you all headed to the bar for drinks, any worries seemed to fade away. Amidst laughter and playful jokes about how the ladies needed drinks to cope with their men, you felt completely at ease and comfortable.

That was, until you suddenly felt someone's gaze on you. And it wasn't your boyfriend's.

A few feet away, a rather handsome man was looking in your direction. Though he could have been staring at any woman in the group, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you turned your head and met his eyes, and he offered you a smile. It wasn't overly direct or forward; just a man trying to flirt with a woman from across the room.

However, almost instinctively, while trying not to consciously reciprocate the flirting, you soon felt a pair of hands on you. And this time, it was your boyfriend's.

He didn't say a word. William's hand simply found its way to your ass, where it belonged, as he stood close to you, flashing you a sweet smile before planting a kiss on your cheek. You didn't even have to look to know that he was eyeing the man who had been attempting to flirt with you, sending him a clear message with a look that said, 'she's mine,' while discreetly giving your cheek a gentle squeeze.

And you couldn't deny how good it made you feel. Knowing that William was boldly asserting your relationship status to the world had you feeling captivated. Especially since you were aware of the numerous girls who longed to be with him, fantasising about your breakup so they could swoop in. But William didn't hide the fact that he was taken, and that made you smile.

Yet, a small part of you felt the temptation to play with fire.

"Feeling a little jealous, are we?" you chuckled lightly as you sipped your drink, William's hand still firmly on your cheek, while more people joined the group at the bar.

"Mmm, he wants what's mine, and I don't like that," William huskily whispered under his breath.

"Yours? Willy, I'm not anyone's property," you raised an eyebrow, but he simply chuckled darkly.

"Yes, you are," he smirked. "It's part of the deal of being with me. I give you a place to stay, and in return, this belongs to me."

His words ignited another arousal within you, despite having just experienced a wonderful orgasm a few hours earlier.

"Oh, so that's how you see it? Hmm, then maybe I should reconsider giving up my apartment," you challenged him, and it seemed to awaken something primal within your boyfriend.

"No - you can't back out now. I've claimed your ass, and now you're mine."

There was a silent exchange of glances as the intensity of the moment lingered, William's hand remaining firmly in place. However, when Mitch announced the arrival of the next course, you both silently agreed to set aside your playful banter for the time being.

It was all fun and games between you and William. Well, most of the time at least.

He'd assert his possessiveness over you, you'd playfully challenge him, and then he'd assert his dominance in a sexual manner, reminding you that you did, in fact, belong to him. However, as Monday rolled around and it was time for the Leafs to face off against the Penguins, the dynamics seemed to shift.

The game was nothing short of exhilarating, but it was almost too intense for your liking. After Pittsburgh scored the first goal in the opening period, Kniesy retaliated in the second, followed by Auston putting the Leafs in the lead in the third. But just when victory seemed within reach, the Penguins fought back, forcing the game into overtime. Fortunately, McCabe saved the day, securing a 3-2 victory for the Leafs on home turf, boosting their confidence before their upcoming trip to New Jersey.

But despite the win, a slight unease lingered within you as you prepared to meet your boyfriend in the hallways after the match. Normally, you prided yourself on not being the jealous type of girlfriend who felt insecure when her boyfriend talked to other girls. However, there was something about this particular girl that set your mind spinning.

She was undeniably stunning, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling as her brown hair cascaded gracefully down her back. And seeing her laughing and chatting with William sparked a small wave of guilt within you.

Nevertheless, you maintained your composure. Slowly, you approached your laughing boyfriend and gently wrapped your arms around his sturdy frame.

"Oh, hey babe," he chuckled, still engrossed in his conversation with the beautiful girl, only briefly acknowledging your presence.

"What's so funny?" you smiled, trying to join in on the conversation.

"I was just telling Willy here about some of the comments people have left on his Rogers' commercial," the girl explained with a sweet tone and smile. "They're just hilarious."

And William continued to laugh, his signature laughter filling the hallway.

"Oh yeah, those were indeed funny," you tried to laugh along, though the amusement quickly faded.

"Anyway, I better get going," the brunette smiled before bidding farewell to William.

There was a moment of silence as William's laughter subsided and he turned to face you.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"What what?" you replied, feigning ignorance of the fact that he had caught on to your jealousy.

"You know what... you're being jealous," he pointed out with a smirk.

"Well, of course I am," you retorted, your voice firm as you gently crossed your arms over your chest. "My boyfriend's chatting with a gorgeous girl after a win, smiling like he's a teenager seeing boobs for the first time, and acting as if I didn't notice."

"Oh, come on, she's just a journalist, babe," William chuckled nonchalantly.

"Well then why isn't she asking you questions along with the other journalists over there?" you pointed to the station where players usually gave their post-game statements.

"She just came up to me and asked me if..." he trailed off, stopping himself before he dug himself deeper.

"Asking you what?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing..." he tried to brush it off, but he knew it was futile.

"Well, if it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" Your voice softened, tinged with vulnerability as you were reminded of other girls who were interested in your boyfriend.

And letting out a deep sigh, William knew honesty was the best policy. "She asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee together..."

"Oh..." you paused for a moment. "And you said yes?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, it doesn't mean anything - she's just doing her job," he chuckled lightly.

"Right... her job... so that means she's also getting coffee with all the other players?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Um... no, I don't think so... but that's because she was there when I did the commercial thing... and she's just... I don't know, catching up, I guess."

You tried your best not to let your frustration show, but William was already aware of your feelings.

"Hey, babe, it's not like she's making any moves - I mean, she's a journalist, she knows I have a girlfriend..." he flashed you a confident smile, and though you didn't trust the journalist's intentions, you trusted your boyfriend.

Just as you expected him to trust you despite other men hitting on you.

So, you let it go and simply let out a calm sigh. "Right, how about we go home then, and I'll remind you just how much I love this relationship," you smirked up at him, gently wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

"Mmm, I don't think I can say no to that," William chuckled, before bidding goodbye to the others and leaving.

You already started the foreplay in the car, teasing his thigh higher and higher until you were close to his groin. Then, in the lift, he couldn't resist, eagerly kissing you as he pressed you against the wall. So, when you entered the condo, you took charge, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, flashing him a lustful smirk as you pulled him towards the bedroom.

William didn't resist; he enjoyed your attempt at dominance. But as soon as you were both in nothing but underwear, he reclaimed his dominant role.

And of course, there was no other way for you to express your desire for your boyfriend than by kneeling in front of him in your fine underwear, opening your mouth as your eyes pleaded for him to feed you with his hard cock.

With you kneeling before him, eager to take him deep into your throat, William felt like he was in heaven. Your warm mouth worked wonders around his throbbing cock, and the small gagging sounds you made whenever he pushed a little too far only added to his pleasure.

You were his submissive, and your sole desire was to please him.

"Mmm, baby, you're so good," he hummed under his breath as you continued to bob your head, focused solely on breathing through your nose as you took him deeper and deeper. Occasionally, you glanced up at him through your lashes, watching as his muscles tensed under your hand, which you used for support while the other stroked his length where your mouth couldn't reach.

But as you pressed yourself further, your nose hitting the pubic hair of his crotch, and you gagged around him, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth and trailing down your chin, William found it incredibly arousing. He held significant power over you, and the sight thrilled him.

However, as he felt his climax approaching, he knew he wasn't ready to finish just yet. So, instead, he withdrew himself from your wonderful mouth.

"Such a good girl…" he praised softly, before gently guiding you to the bed. But as you moved towards the mattress, you signalled your desire to be on top, and William happily granted your wish.

After removing your underwear, he lay down on his back, and you couldn't help but smile as you straddled his hips. He was already dripping with precum, mixed with your saliva, and your arousal was evident, making it effortless for you to sink down onto his cock and let him fill you up.

"Oh yes, Willy," you moaned as his thick member stretched your entrance, stimulating your walls with every inch.

"Mmm, baby, you feel so good around me," he moaned in harmony, his hands instinctively gripping your hips.

And as your bodies connected, you began to sway your hips, rocking back and forth in sensual motions, your hands finding support on his chest. With each movement, allowing his hardness to glide in and out of your wet core, your moans grew louder. Pleasure rushed through your body, and you increased your pace, your breaths heavy and your mind consumed by sensation.

Then as the intensity grew, your bodies became sweatier and hotter, your vision blurring with each thrust. Addicted to the pleasure, you increased your speed once again, seeking that euphoric high.

"Mmm… shit, Willy," you moaned in a soft cry, your hips moving desperately as your thighs pressed against the man beneath you.

"Yes, älskling… you're such a good girl," William muttered. "Fucking ride me, baby… fucking cum on my dick…"

In the heat of the moment, his words worked like a magic spell, and with a forceful motion, you panted and gasped for air as you reached climax.

You even had to pause your movements, filling your lungs with air as you shut your eyes and cried out his name in pleasure. Your tight muscles pulsed around his shaft as you calmed from the high of your orgasm, your legs trembling from the intensity.

And as you slowly came down from the euphoric state, William sat up, gently pushing his cock a little deeper inside you as he grabbed your hair and pulled you in for a messy kiss.

"Hmm, fucking love it when you make yourself cum on me," he spoke huskily under his breath, and with a smirk adorning your sweaty face, you then started to slowly move your hips again, rocking gently as you kissed his bearded chin and neck, occasionally biting down with your teeth before pulling back.

The room was hot and steamy, and as he felt your cunt pulsating around his member, he felt the need for his own release stirring. So, taking a firm hold of your body, William then turned you both over and pushed your back into the mattress.

In one swift movement, he seized your hands and held them above your head as he began to thrust into you, while your legs instinctively wrapped around his lower body, heels pressing into his skin as you surrendered to his actions. His movements were powerful, yet this time, he attempted to maintain a sense of romance as you exchanged deep, passionate kisses.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, allowing him to thrust mercilessly and deeply, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation as he approached his climax. William's grip on your wrists was strong, and as he pounded even faster, you knew he was nearing completion.

"Oh, yes, Willy, cum for me…" you moaned loudly, gasping for breath as you became undone for him.

"Yeah... baby, I'm so close..." he breathed heavily in response. So, with a few more intense thrusts, William withdrew abruptly, knelt back, and ejaculated onto your lower stomach with a deep grunt. "God...," he moaned huskily as he reached a more intense climax than expected, his sticky white cum covering your skin like a canvas.

It was messy, yet incredibly arousing. Your body still trembled as you recovered from the intense sex, and your legs shook as you gradually regained strength. Meanwhile, William caught his breath, admiring his handiwork.

Your body was undeniably stunning, but what he admired most was how well he knew it and how effortlessly he could please you, eliciting loud moans and squirms with his touch.

And as the two of you gradually returned to reality, smiles graced your faces, unable to contain the sense of satisfaction. Additionally, William naturally assisted in tidying up the aftermath by leading you to the bathroom, where he tenderly and leisurely washed your bodies with lukewarm water cascading over the two of you, sharing deep kisses and reaffirming the connection that had united you from the outset. It was the bond that held you together through the peaks and valleys, through all the challenges you encountered as a couple.

As morning broke and William's alarm shattered your peaceful sleep, you couldn't help but smile as you turned to see his serene expression, while William, true to form, didn't immediately wake from the alarm; he was a dedicated snoozer. Yet, what always brought him to full consciousness was your kiss. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, planting soft kisses all over his handsome face until he slowly opened his eyes.

"God morgon, prinsessa," William murmured huskily, still half-asleep.

"God morgon, min prins," you smiled in return.

Despite the early hour, it was a cosy morning, with the passionate warmth from the night before still lingering between you. Any lingering traces of jealousy were overshadowed by the depth of your relationship, dispelling any intrusive negative thoughts.

As you exchanged lazy morning kisses, William's embrace tightened around you, drawing you closer to his body, the warmth emanating from him as you felt his morning hardness pressing against you. And with a smile of your own, you summoned the strength to position yourself on top of him.

William sat up straight, his bare chest pressed against your breasts as he drew you even nearer, deepening the kiss. However, you pulled back slightly, biting your lower lip before licking them seductively, trailing your fingers along his neck where you admired the faint marks from the night before.

Yet, not entirely satisfied with your handiwork, you returned your lips to his skin, your fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned back against the headboard. Despite the early hour, William could already feel himself responding to your touch, the anticipation of being apart from you again igniting a primal craving.

And his desperate groans only spurred you to bite down harder as you allowed your hips to gently grind against his lap. Your heart rate quickened, breaths becoming shallow, while William's body tensed, releasing a loud moan. Then pulling away from his flushed skin, you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"Hmm," William muttered. "Leaving your mark, are you?" he chuckled mischievously, earning a light nod from you.

"Can't have you walking around without people knowing you have a girlfriend, can we?" you spoke seductively, your fingers delicately tracing the marks you skilfully created.

"And why's that?" William grinned, rhetorically acknowledging the possessiveness stirring within you, mirroring his own.

"Well, maybe there's going to be another journalist trying to grab coffee with you…" you playfully smiled.

"Hmm, yeah, we can't have that, can we," William chuckled, merely acknowledging the playful banter.

There was a brief moment of silence as you both admired each other in the soft morning light, knowing you would only be apart for the day, sharing a tender kiss.

"So," you spoke, pulling away with a pout on your lips, "Are you going to try and hide them?"

But William simply shook his head, a mischievous smile on his face as he gently rubbed his index finger across your lower lip. "No way," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm going to show them off."

It was a simple moment, yet it emphasised the possessiveness you both held for each other. Though you trusted each other implicitly, there were still lingering worries in the back of your minds.

You always harboured a nervousness that William might grow bored of you, drawn instead to the other incredibly beautiful women who seemed to appear in his life. Meanwhile, William feared that you might tire of his lifestyle and one day simply decide to leave in pursuit of a more conventional life.

Yet, neither of you had any intentions of parting ways.

#my asks #18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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athenagranted · 1 day

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idk if you're still writing the post-cemetry scene fic with pining eddie (idk if i'm describing it right) but i would love to hear more about it/see a snippet or too if you feel so inclined 👀

someone asking about angsty pining fic in the month of our lord april 2024? this was such a lovely surprise 😭 i'm gonna be honest with u anon i'm likely not going to publish 911 fic again BUT because you asked so nicely i'll give you a few older snippets from my draft:

Eddie sighs, breaking the stare. “You have a key, you know,” he says finally. “Feel free to come join me whenever you want.” He turns on his heel and walks back inside to finish his goddamn brownies, leaving Buck standing in the doorway. It’s silent for a few minutes. He’s in the middle of measuring a tablespoon of espresso powder when Buck steps into the kitchen and shuts the door behind him. Eddie feels the weight of Buck’s gaze on him as he folds the powder into his brownie mixture, but he doesn’t turn to meet his eye until Buck speaks. “Is that…” Buck falters. He clears his throat. “Is that my recipe?” “Yeah,” Eddie says gruffly. “Chris asked me to make it. Said he wanted to share it with his friends when they come over tomorrow for their playdate.” Buck snorts. “Man, you can’t call it that. Chris nearly bit my head off last time I tried. Kept reminding me that ‘playdates are for kids, Buck,’ and that he’s not a kid anymore.” Buck emphasizes that last bit with air quotes, and Eddie can’t help but grin at that. But his smile fades instantly, remembering the somber look on Buck’s face when he’d opened the door. He highly doubts that Buck came over just to commiserate about the trials and tribulations of watching Christopher grow up. Eddie bites the bullet. “Why are you here, Buck?” Buck shifts nervously. He shrugs and looks away from Eddie. “I — I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to answer that. You’ve never asked me that before.” Eddie scrubs at his face. “I've never had to ask you that, Buck. Things are different now. You’ve been busy.”

“Wow,” Buck says acidly, all traces of heartbreak gone. “I’ve never heard that one before.” Eddie frowns. “What?” “Really, Eddie?” Buck’s voice cracks on the last syllable. He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. Just — unbelievable.” “Buck — what are you talking about?” “We were just trying to protect you, Evan," Buck mocks. "You were never supposed to find out. We kept it from you because we love you. Any of that sound familiar to you?” Eddie’s breath hitches on the word love, because he doesn’t know, he can’t know, but then — Oh. Fuck.

Buck: We’ll get through this just like everything else. I promise. It’ll be okay. Buck: Eddie, did you eat enough today? Should I come by and bring you some food? Buck: You know you’re still my best friend, right? That’s never going to change, Eddie. Never. He reacts with a thumbs up or a tap-back heart on most of the messages, too exhausted to do anything else. He replies with a thumbs down to the message about food, certain that he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Buck so soon. He knows he’ll have to face him in person eventually, but his tired, broken heart just wants to postpone it as much as he can. The last one, though, is a balm that both soothes and agitates Eddie’s burning, aching heart, and he taps out a brief, Thank you, you too. Always, in response. It feels like too much and not enough all at once, and Eddie wishes once again that he was a little better at resisting Buck, that he didn’t feel that need to reply to his every message lest Buck worry even more about him. The only one he actually acknowledges is a message that comes in at 2:43 AM on Sunday. As he opens the message, Eddie absentmindedly wonders if Buck’s having a hard time falling asleep for the same reason as him. Probably. It’s a link to a new exhibit at the Griffith Observatory, accompanied by a text that reads: Can I take Christopher here next weekend? Eddie squeezes back tears as he replies with a brief, Of course, and puts his phone down, letting the darkness swallow him again.

Hen beats him to it. “What happened, Buck? I thought you really liked her. Weren’t you planning to introduce her to Maddie and Chimney next week?” “Not anymore,” Buck mutters. “I broke up with her.” “What?” Eddie snaps head snaps up. “Why?” Buck doesn’t meet his gaze, his lip quivering. The rest of their team is watching them, eyes darting back and forth, and Buck blinks hesitantly before swallowing down a sip of coffee. He wipes the cream off of his upper lip and looks Eddie in the eye. “You know why,” Buck whispers.

#i love sad men. also thank u for the ask btw it does mean a lot that someone was still thinking about this fic <3 #rae writes #fic: blue skies #answered #anon

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nyoomerr · 3 days

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Any advice for writing fic? I used to do it but it's been a few years so I feel so rusty

i drafted a response to this a few times and deleted it each time because i felt like it was really cheesy. i still want to say it, because i really believe it, but i'll start with a revelation from my dark past to contextualize why i believe it:

svsss isn't the first fandom i've written for - it's the second. the first fandom i wrote for was years ago now, and back then, my writing was drastically different. i'm talking way different; think writing everything in the first person and describing characters as "green-orbed brunettes."

those things aren't inherently bad, of course! at the time, i was really proud of my writing, and i still am to some degree - but my tastes have changed since then by quite a bit, mostly informed by stories (fic and original) that i've read since then.

and because of that natural change in my own preferences for what i liked to read, the way that i wrote naturally changed too.

it had been about... 6? years since i had stopped writing fic when i suddenly decided i wanted to write fic for svsss. and even though i hadn't been writing all that time, the first fic i wrote for svsss was - in my eyes - a dramatic personal improvement from the last fic i wrote for my old fandom.

basically, what i want to say is this: how can you be rusty, when you've been reading things this whole time? how can you be rusty, when you've been slowly absorbing things you both liked and disliked, subconsciously noting what you think makes for a good story?

i 100% understand that it can be a bit nerve-wracking to restart a hobby you've let gather dust, but it's a hobby for a reason - you do it because you enjoy it! and so long as you're focusing on making something that you personally like, i full-heartedly believe that the fic you make today will be better than the fic you made years ago, even though you haven't practiced writing fic in all this time.

...ah, it still turned out really cheesy 🙈 well, anyway, have confidence and have fun! and if you wanted Real™ advice instead of this wishy washy stuff, i have another post where i give some more actionable writing tips. good luck!!

#and thank you for sending in the ask!! it makes me feel warm and fuzzy when people come to me for advice like this 🥺#nyoomerr ask

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daydreamalley · 3 days

Text

A Ramble about Phase 19 of the Fifteen Manga Ft. Storm Bringer spoilers

Just absolutely cannot get over the 15 manga. I love the light novel so much, but this manga adaptation is so ridiculously amazing. Dazai and Chuuya’s proximity/touching has been amazing of course. I adore the way Hoshikawa draws Dazai and Chuuya as well (my baby boys, especially Chuuya). But these last two chapters with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Like, fuck. The whole “At least, one of them felt that way,” part just hits so much harder in the manga for me, with the art and page placement. And this whole most recent chapter. Like firstly, you don’t have to end every chapter with like Chuuya getting stabbed okay, help me out here.

Comparing the last page of phase 18 with Verlaine and the first page of phase 19 with Chuuya makes it so obvious that Rimbaud is seeing the similarities between them with just that parallel, which is confirmed later with Rimbaud quite literally seeing Verlaine standing behind Chuuya.

Not to mention in phase 18 the “That’s right Paul, I remember you,” in conjunction with him seeing Verlaine in Chuuya.

Then that flashback with Verlaine carrying Chuuya and Chuuya’s just so small I could cry.

Like, I knew he was small, but he's just so young, I can't. People were experimenting on him. Like, how??

The way Rimbaud wants to ask Chuuya something and Chuuya crouches down to him. Which leads to Rimbaud putting a hand around Chuuya as he tells him to live. How close and personal they are when Rimbaud says all of this just make it feel so much more impactful for Chuuya. Kinda love too that Chuuya isn't just standing over Rimbaud. He's making it obvious he's open to listening.

Rimbaud says a lot of shitty things to Chuuya up to this point, even complaining that he has to kill a kid while only referring to Dazai, completely not acknowledging Chuuya as anything more than Arahabaki. But once he fully remembers what happened with Verlaine, I feel like that’s when Rimbaud remembers what he truly believed about Verlaine and his humanity and how that extends to Chuuya’s humanity. Because Rimbaud’s whole final speech is most definitely things he’d also thought of or told Verlaine before (as I think is confirmed in SB). I think those are Rimbaud’s true thoughts and beliefs on the matter, it just took that long for him to remember the full story and how he felt about it all. Rimbaud saw Verlaine’s struggles with humanity, and now he also remembers why Verlaine betrayed him. And so he tells Chuuya to live, just as Verlaine wanted him to back then, live without the burden of worrying about your humanity or where you came from, because “you are you.” It doesn’t matter if Chuuya (and Verlaine) “are but a pattern etched on the surface of raw power.” In Rimbaud’s mind, and honestly where we eventually end up at the end of SB, is that it really doesn’t matter what your origins are, whether someone is an artificial personality (aka pattern) etched onto raw power, because really everything is some version of a pattern upon the world. And in a word with abilities, a lot of people are a pattern connected to a power. Just as in SB Chuuya decides that even though Adam isn’t human and he knows it, it doesn’t take away from Adam’s actions, his sacrifices, or his dreams. Same goes for Chuuya and Verlaine. Their origins don't affect how human they truly are. Their humanity is significant no matter what. It just took a bit more convincing for Chuuya to get there, a little more than what Rimbaud could offer on his (almost) deathbed.

Anyway, Chuuya holding Rimbaud’s hand as he dies just does things to me. Like, the book described that “Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou (Rimbaud) was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss… Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt the cold, and the hearts of two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. A gust of wind peered through their souls as it passed them by.”

This page just so well depicts that last line. It truly feels these boys have heard something so monumental, that they won’t ever forget. Standing in the aftermath of their first fight together, hearing these words about humanity that both mean so much to both of them. Dazai’s expressions really convey this to me in the manga, and convey it just so beautifully. And Chuuya being so close to Rimbaud when he speak those words just makes it feel like those words truly are so monumental for him. And also this means that Chuuya fought to kill a man, that to be entirely fair and clear was trying to kill him first, and then held to his hand as he dies, and there’s just something about this added detail that’s so significant to me in portraying the weight of it on Chuuya. Chuuya's connection to Rimbaud is a complicated but important one. But really these words are important for both boys, because let’s not forget that Dazai also struggles with his humanity. Even if he doesn’t have a physical reason to doubt his humanity, like Chuuya, there are many other reasons that he does doubt it. So hearing that all people and all of humanity are really just patterns within the physical world, human or not that’s true of everyone and everything, and that’s important for Dazai to hear too. I think both boys think back to Rimbaud’s final speech quite a bit, if I’m being honest or did for a while.

I am NOT getting over the detail that someone (Chuuya??) put Rimbaud’s scarf on his grave. I just… it does something to me and I love that detail so much. And cutting back to that “You are you” line while Chuuya’s talking to the grave is just so perfect in my opinion, and again just shows the significance of it so, so well. It’s like, he's talking to Rimbaud, complaining about his actions really, and then it cuts to that “you are you” and it just shows almost the contrast I guess between Chuuya feeling unrest at not finding stuff about his past that Rimbaud could’ve given him, but maybe wouldn’t have anyway, and Rimbaud’s statement that those things don’t matter because Chuuya is who he is beyond all that. Also the little dandelion blowing into the wind, to me also signifying a wish being spread.

Anyway, entirely unnecessary to end the chapter with a big knife in Chuuya’s back, thanks. Especially after Chuuya mentions how he’s still exhausted from everything. Like let’s just, stop, please.

He's just a boy, leave him alone for the sake of all things good.

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