#and i can’t wait to see where this goes

[wonnieluv]

Enhypen…

When they see you after you being apart for a long time

Heeseung

Heeseung would envelope you in the most tightest. Not the kind where you’re gripping each other real tight but the kind of hug where you just feel so secure. Like not even the strongest wind could knock you out of his embrace

He’d kiss your forehead and just hold you for a solid few minutes as you just bathe in each other’s presence mumbling small I missed you’s and I love you’s into your ears as you inhale his scent. It’s such a healing moment and any pain, exhaustion or stress you had weighing on you didn’t seem to matter anymore because all that mattered was that you two were together

Jay

Jay would be counting down the days to being able to see you again. You two probably have one of those countdown’s on your lock screen or something. The moment you open the door for him when he knocks, you nearly tackle him over as he drops everything in his hands to hug you

Once you let go of each other, you walk in your door hand in hand. He sets his stuff down and you both immediately snuggle up on the couch maybe with a cup of wine or some tea. You rest your head on his chest as he tells you all about what him and the members have been up to and some of the exciting things they have coming up. You eventually turn on the TV and pop in some cheesy rom-com that you both love. There hasn’t been a more perfect moment. The two of you cozied up on your couch, he runs his hand through your hair as you listen to his heartbeat. Needless to say your both asleep in each others arms long before the movie ends.

Jake

Jake is all giddy. No one within his close circle doesn’t know you’re coming. He probably sits and tells Layla all about how excited he is to see you and all the things you’ll do when he goes to visit his parents. When you finally do arrive he runs up and bear hugs you with the brightest smile on his face. Like his cheeks are probably aching with how hard he’s smiling. As you walk to the car hand in hand, he drives you back with his hand not leaving yours once on the drive home and he doesn’t waste a single second in pulling you into his room and trapping you in a hug on his bed. He’s waited so long to hold you and now that he has the chance, he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

He’ll tell you about all the stuff he wants to do with you; the cafes he wants to visit, the late night walks with Layla, the places in Seoul he can’t wait to take you to. He’ll promise to take you to the HYBE building and show you around (maybe they’ll let you watch practice ;)). If you show more excitement to see another artist he may teasingly say that you can’t go anymore and he’ll be pouty and never leave your side if you guys actually go. The time you spend with Jake you’ll probably end up sleeping better than you ever have wrapped up in his arms

Sunghoon

Sunghoon may not immediately show it on his face, but he is so excited to see you. When he finally sees your face and sees you running towards him he’ll break out into the prettiest smile and immediately open his arms for you to run into. He’s probably trying to play it cool but in reality he’s trying not to combust from how happy he is. His giddiness immediately gets exposed the second he brings you around the members. ‘Hoon literally won’t shut up about you’ ‘y/n comes in a week, y/n comes in 4 days, y/n comes tomorrow, I see y/n in a coupon hours’ ‘I saw him kicking his feet and giggling when you guys texted last night’. Like they won’t let this poor man live.

When you guys get to be alone there may not be many words exchanged at first but you guys are just going about your business being more than content to be in each other’s presence. Whether he’s playing games, you’re doing your skincare, on your phones, cuddling in bed. Whatever y’all are doing there’s always a permanent smile on your face. But before you fall asleep you probably tease him a bit about how much the boys said he missed you just to seem him get all flustered.

Sunoo

You and Sunoo would FaceTime almost everyday when you were apart. You would be spilling tea, giving eachother updates on whatever has been going on (because he knows alllll of your friends and all of the gossip in your life), doing skincare together, or just exchanging quick words to each other to help cheer the other up.

When you finally are together again you immediately take over the bathroom for the most extensive home spa routine to ever exist. No one is interrupting and by the time you’re done, you’re going through your camera roll looking at all the goofy pics you took with your matching face masks and pajamas on and giggling to each other picking the perfect one that you can post on your story without showing his face. You guys put on the drama you agreed to watch together and spill any recent drama you’ve had yet to tell each other. Needless to say the entire evening is filled with soft giggles and sweet smiles shared between the two of you from the comfort of each others embrace in Sunoo’s room.

Jungwon

You know Jungwon is busy and he knows that you are as well so when you finally have the time to spend an evening at his place you had your bag packed a week in advance and made sure no one would get in the way. He gave you the code so you came to the dorm a bit early to surprise him when he got out of his schedule for that day. The second he walked through the door to see you in the living room his tense shoulders immediately relaxed and before you could even sit up to greet him he was laying on top of you. I’m not talking but ‘tackled into a hug on the couch’ type of thing, I’m talking the ‘there’s his body laying on top of you like a sack of potatos’ and he is not getting up.

When you finally do get him up you head of his room. After you convince him that you will in fact still be there when he’s done showering, he goes to wash up before catapulting himself into bed to lay on top of you again. You spend the next 30 minutes to an hour with his head on your chest combing your fingers through his hair as you exchange words about all the things you’ve been up to as you both slowly fade into unconsciousness holding each other. The next morning he will not let you go and you may have to get 2 of the members to pry him away from you when you have to go back home but it’s ok because you know that it won’t be long until you’ll be in each others arms again.

Ni-ki

Your texts with Riki mostly consist of daily updates and horrible memes exchanged between the two of you with some play fighting added to the mix. Even when you’re ‘arguing’ with each other he knows how to make you laugh and that does not change when you finally get to see him face to face again. He would probably pretend to not see you if you’re a lot smaller than he but when you start to get annoyed he pulls you into a hug and apologizes through his giggles.

The majority of the time you spend with each other consists of you two giggling over things you find on Twitter, taking silly goofy pictures of each other that you beg him to post on Weverse, him teasing you, you punching him for teasing you, him apologizing while laughing and the cycle repeats. By the time it gets to 1am you have settled in his room and he’s telling you goofy stories of things the members have done recently and you’re telling him about the things you’ve been up to recently with your friends (who he totally 100% remembers the names of) until the conversation fades as your breathing steadies and you both fall asleep with smiles on your faces. The rest of the time you’re staying with him consists of similar routines with maybe a late night run to the convenience store or some video games where Riki promises he’ll play fair but we all know he won’t with the biggest smile on his face.

#enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha sunoo #enha scenarios #enha heeseung #enha jungwon #enha jake #enha jay #enha sunghoon #enha niki #enha reactions #enha headcanons #enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 7

Pairing: The Grid x Reader, Lance x Reader

Summary: reader in a crash, book club dads worried af abt her

requests open masterlist

——————

You felt nervous going into Spa, a feeling that you just couldn’t shake. You had talked to Kimi about it and even crashed the Haas garage to talk to your best friends, but nothing could shake the pit as you climbed into the pit as the light rain started. Max looked at you and gave you a thumbs up before getting into his car.

You’ve never done great at Spa, the only reason you are P4 is because of the rocket ship that is you car. That was one lap, this is 44 laps. You release a shaky breath and focus on the lights above you. Not even 10 laps later the pit in your stomach increases due to the increased rainfall. You can’t get rid of the feeling despite your intense concentration on driving.

My tires aren’t going to last much longer, I’m losing grip.

Copy, Y/n, push one more lap then we will bring you in.

By the time you reported the tire conditions you were already mostly through sector three. You resteel yourself and push the car as hard as you could while managing the tires.

It’s when you enter sector two that you panic a little. You are losing grip faster than you thought and have begun fighting the steering.

GUYS SOMETHING IS HAPPENING

Y/n?

Y/n? Are you okay? Y/n!

Your wheels lose grip to the track and send you into the wall. It’s a nasty crash that immediately red flags, the debris across the track plus the rain increasing was enough for the FIA to red flag it. Your head is pounding and your vision a little blurry. Only when your ears stop ringing do you hear the radio.

Fuck, yeah I’m okay

You slur the words and pull yourself out of the car, immediately collapsing when you stand up as everything fades to black.

Lance, slow down, red flag, red flag.

Andrew? Who was that, don’t tell me it was Y/n. Fuck, is my wife ok?

It was her, no word back yet. Nothing over her radio from what we can tell.

Andrew, I need to know. Is. She. Ok.

She just said she was ok over the radio. There is debris across the track, stop the car and a marshall will get you back to the garage.

Shit, that’s bad. Andrew, what are you hiding from me?

Lance stops the car and gets out when it is safe to do so, as indicated by the marshal, but his heart drops when he sees you being put into ambulance.

“Mr Stroll, please let me at least let me get you back to the garage,” the marshal senses that he wants to fun over to the scene. Lance reluctantly goes back to the garage where he immediately pulls out of the race and goes to the hospital where they are taking his wife.

Max, Y/n crashed behind you, red flag.

Shit, is she okay?

No confirmation yet, make your way back to the pit lane.

Max feels his heart drop. He knew how uncomfortable you were going into the race and he would do anything to go back and time and tell her not to race. The red flag ended the race, and every driver had a similar reaction to Max and Lance. Max felt sick that that’s how he won, and he said as much in the post-race interviews. It was visible how much he and the paddock cared about you. Every one of your grid dads, as you affectionately called them when talking to Max, came over to him asking for updates, hoping Max would know more since he was your teammate.

“Lance, take a seat, pacing won’t help,” Kimi tells Lance, equally worried and frustrated at the lack of information as they wait in the hospital. Kimi was already on his way after the phone call this morning, this wasn’t what he expected when he touched down. Half the grid is sitting in the room, their legs bouncing or anxiously conversing.

“Mr. Stroll,” a nurse says, causing the both of them to hop up and walk to the desk.

“Who is Mr. Stroll?” she asks and Lance slightly raises his hand.

“I am, this is her father,” Lance says, the nurse motions for the two of them to follow.

“The doctor is in the private room waiting for you,” she closes the door behind Lance and Kimi.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Janssens. I have a bit of good and bad news. Good news is that Y/n only has a mild concussion, some whiplash, sprained wrist, and a small hairline fracture of the wrist. Bad news is that she’ll be out of racing for at least a month,” both Kimi and Lance cringe at the news.

“That’s all? It was a nasty crash,” Lance asks a bit skeptically, looking at your sleeping figure.

“Based on tests and scans, we have ruled out any head, neck, and back breaks. We have her pain meds, which is why she’s sleeping. She will likely be under observation for another day or two,” the doctor says, trying to relay the information in a delicate manor.

“Thank you,” Kimi dismisses the doctor, a hand resting on your shoulder. He and Lance sit in silence for a minute, gathering feelings and thoughts.

“She looks so peaceful,” Lance says softly, holding his sleeping wife’s hand.

“I’ll give you a moment while I talk to Christian and the drivers. Think about when you want to make a statement. I may hate the media, but you don’t want them to be hounding the hospital,” Kimi says before stepping out. Kimi and Christian quickly come to an agreement about the seat, the later not wanting to lose out on his second driver. The grid takes the news relatively well, but they all know how lucky they were, especially you. Pierre and Charles may have been handling it the worst.

“Kimi, will you look over this statement?” Lance asks, knowing the older man is an expert in saying things vaguely.

All-

We want to thank you for your support following Y/n’s crash. She is currently in the hospital under the care of great doctors. We are thankful that she is okay and look forward to a smooth recovery.

- The Räikkönens and Strolls

“Looks fine to me, I will take care of the outside stuff. You focus on our girl,” Kimi goes into Dad mode, sending the message to Red Bull and Lawrence. He posts the statement first on his account, Red Bull and Lawrence following shortly afterwards. Red Bull edited it slightly to reassure fans that you still had your seat waiting for you.

“Lance? You ask as you wake up, wincing from the pain. The room is dimmer, as to not strain you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he says softly, brushing hair from your eyes.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Going into the wall will do that to you, you got lucky,” Kimi says from beside Lance.

“Dad? What did the doctor say, when can I get back into the car?” your vision slightly blurry as your eyes adjust to being awake.

“You have a concussion, whiplash, wrist sprain, and a hairline fracture. You’ll be out for about a month,” Kimi says, heart aching.

“Some of the guys are here? Want me to bring them in?” Lance asks, doing his best to distract you from the amount of time you will be out.

“Yeah,” you verbally confirm, not able to nod your head due to the neck pain. Lance leaves the room to grab the grid.

“I’m sorry, crashes like this are the worst,” Kimi tells you, clearly still affected by your crash.

“Thanks for being here, you didn’t have to leave everyone for me,” you says softly, thinking about your family back in Finland.

“They want to know that you are ok, and you are still my daughter, of course I will be here,” he replies, his softer side showing.

“I didn’t mean to scare everyone. Robin, Rianna, and Grace weren’t watching, right?” you panic a little, scared for their young minds.

“No, they know you are hurt, but they think it’s just a boo boo,” Kimi reassures you. The grid comes in and sufficiently distracts you, happy to know you’re okay.

You spend the next month in Finland with Kimi and your family, working back to 100%. Kimi takes you karting when you are almost fully recovered, getting you back to normal. Lance visits when he isn’t racing.

“Sissy, why do you have to go?” Robin asks, you tested in F1 cars again and got the green light to race again.

“I have to go drive in circles really really fast, just like Papa used to,” you crouch down to his level. Your sisters equally sad at your departure.

“What if you get a boo boo again?” Rianna asks, and you pause, thinking about how to explain it well.

“Do you stop going to the park even after your fall and get a boo boo there? Sometimes we get hurt, but that’s ok,” you don’t promise that you won’t get hurt, that’s not a promise you can keep. Rianna nods, understanding but sad you aren’t staying.

“Will Lancie come back next time?” Robin asks, not wanting to let you go.

“He will, I’ll be back in a couple weeks, it’ll fly by,” you give you siblings one last hug. Kimi hugs you goodbye as well, he spent the past week going over the track with you and talking about strategies.

When you get to the track, you are stopped by every driver, asking how you are and saying how much they missed you.

“Welcome back,” Fernando greets you when you walk into the club meeting.

“I listened to the audiobook, let’s get this party started,” you smile, happily listening to Lewis and Daniel fight about some symbolism. Your boys pampered you for your return. George brought you coffee from Mercedes, Logan brought you a pastry that he picked up from a bakery. Valtteri gave you some home remedies for your sore muscles that he swore works wonders. Kevin and Nico just hugged you but that was enough for you.

“Max was freaking out, he chewed out the Red Bull team for not pitting you earlier,” Daniel tells you, having filled in for you while you were hurt.

“That’s nice of him,” you smile to yourself. Lewis had also been vocal in interviews about how your crash could’ve been prevented if the race had ended sooner due to the rain.

“Y/n! Have a second?” a reporter asks and you nod.

“See you later, Danny,” you wave goodbye to him and approach the mic.

“Thanks for joining me, I just have a couple quick questions. First off, how are you feeling?”

“I’m really good, a little sore, but itching to get into the car again,” you reply, not giving away more than that regarding your injuries.

“You certainly seemed to scare the grid when you weren’t responding after the crash. How has your welcome back been?” the reporter pushes for more information.

“They’ve been great, they all came to the hospital to visit and have taken great care of me today. I obviously feel bad for scaring them, but they are the best competitors I could ask for,” you smile, before leaving the interview.

“Welcome back, kid,” Max hugs you when you walk into the Red Bull motorhome. You sing Super Max when you see him, having spent the last month listening to the silly songs that have been written for the drivers

“Thanks Maxie. Who is the better teammate, me or Daniel?” you grin, putting the dutchman in a tough spot.

“Daniel, for sure,” Max jokes. Your jaw drops and you turn around, leaving to go to another motorhome. You find yourself in McLaren, singing Let’s Go, Lando, with Lando himself who was happy to join in with your under-the-breath singing. Oscar wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at or murder the two of you.

“What brings you to our home?” Oscar asks once you both stop singing.

“Max said he liked Daniel more than me as a teammate,” you pout, not revealing that you knew he was joking.

“Right, I’m texting Lance,” Oscar shakes his head with a laugh, leaving you and Lando to chat.

“Y/n, love, you just healed, let’s not get hurt by forcing McLaren security to kick you out,” Lance laughs when he sees you and Lando bonding.

“Noooo, we were just becoming friends, she never hands out with drivers that are her age,” Lando whines. You give him an ick face.

“For good reason, you are all icky,” you quickly turn to Lance, “not you, baby,” you smile and turn back to Lando, “why would I hang out with you all and party after races when I can spend time with the older drivers whose company I prefer,” your eyebrow quirks.

“Say what you want, I’ve seen you at our parties. You have more fun than Lance,” Lando grins.

“Alright Lance, let’s go,” you get up, Lance assisting you since you are still a little slow due to the aches still in your muscles. He walks with you hand in hand back to Red Bull where your trainer helps work out your neck muscles and tape your neck and wrist.

“Let us know if you are feeling pain, if you have to pull out of free practice early, pull out. There is no shame if you are hurting,” Christian tells you, before you get to your car.

“I know, I’ll let you know,” you smile, feeling good in the car. After FP1, all of your grid dads found you after weigh ins, checking you over.

“Mi hija, are you okay? Does anything hurt? How is your hand,” Fernando asks, filling his usual position as the overprotective grid dad.

“A little sore, yeah,” you groan as you roll your shoulders.

“Don’t do that, let’s get you to an ice bath, then some heat,” Kevin says. Lance and your trainer don’t bother checking in on you.

“Let’s have a, well what your would call, a girls night. Help you recover,” Lewis suggests. And that’s how you spend the next few nights, in pajamas, with fluffy blankets, alternating cold and heat on your neck, watching movies of books you had read with the club.

“Petition to make this an occurrence each race?” Valtteri proposes at one point, getting eight voices in agreement back. They did a wonderful job of helping you recover, and the encouraging phone calls to Kimi helped you feel more than ready to race when race day approaches.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! GREAT START FROM RÄIKKÖNEN!” The announcer yells into the mic as you gain a few places, toe to toe with Max.

Can I race?

Permission to Race, give em hell, Y/n

You end up winning the race with a 1-2 finish, pulling a Carlos Sainz and Ferrari after his appendix removal. Your first F1 win.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid #george russell #logan sargeant #max verstappen #valtteri bottas #kimi raikkonen #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lewis hamilton #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen

[slasherscream]

She Likes a Boy (And I’m Not Just a Boy)

pairing:  jordan li x fem!reader

summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.

A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.

gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez

“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders. 

“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.

Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now? 

“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.

He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next. 

Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it. 

Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place. 

“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again. 

He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart. 

“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.

It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring. 

You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.

“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.

“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says. 

He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp. 

“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him. 

“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes. 

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”

“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does. 

It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.

You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you. 

“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.

You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours. 

You bite him a little harder.

Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.

You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do. 

“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.

“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him. 

You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.

You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to. 

You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that. 

Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan. 

You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.

It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought. 

A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.

“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go. 

They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces. 

All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look. 

“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled. 

“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!” 

You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero. 

You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table. 

During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time. 

You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways. 

‘Bimbo.’

‘Airhead.’

‘Slut.’ 

Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.

‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’ 

You stopped venting.

When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends. 

People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest. 

You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.

Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home. 

You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground. 

When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears. 

It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all. 

 “Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says. 

“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.

“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.” 

You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting. 

“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice. 

You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement. 

“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.

“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.

“That means that he killed the wife!” 

“How do you figure?”

You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day. 

Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say. 

Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read. 

You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.” 

Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart. 

Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment. 

Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt. 

It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk. 

“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you. 

You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?” 

Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”

“Secondary super power.”

“Connecting all the dots?”

“Connecting all the dots, yeah.” 

“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before. 

“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.

“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped. 

“What?!” 

“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”

You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university. 

You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door. 

“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to. 

“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd. 

“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.” 

You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place. 

You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.

“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran. 

Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose. 

“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.” 

Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-” 

Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up. 

“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.

“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”

Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!” 

“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.

You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?” 

“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong. 

“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.

“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-” 

“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.” 

You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first. 

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too. 

He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you. 

“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.    

“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?” 

“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”

“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?” 

“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse. 

“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly. 

“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?” 

“Why are you so mad?”

“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!” 

“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”

Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you. 

“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?” 

“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.

“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”

Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.” 

“Oh.” You say. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you. 

You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews. 

You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted. 

“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.

“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.” 

“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.” 

“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!” 

“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.

“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.

“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”

“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.  

You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.” 

You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.

“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.

“With fucking Peter?” 

“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.

“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse. 

“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes. 

“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.

“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.

“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.” 

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing. 

“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk. 

“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin. 

“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time. 

You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.” 

“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this. 

“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”

Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?

“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually. 

“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work. 

“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?” 

“I should probably finish up a few more papers-” 

“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed. 

“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see. 

You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees. 

“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.

You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”

“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh. 

“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.” 

“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final. 

“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob. 

“Huh?” You look up from your notes.

“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.

“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be. 

“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips. 

“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page. 

“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?” 

“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”

“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”

“Nope. Property damage.” 

“Fuck me!” 

You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.

Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea. 

Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”

“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.

“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible. 

“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.

“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book. 

Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?” 

“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually. 

“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.  

“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow. 

“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.

The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.

“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath. 

“Oh.” Jordan says. 

“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”

“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive. 

“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.” 

“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you. 

You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.

“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question. 

“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet. 

“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered. 

“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.

“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again. 

“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble. 

You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.

“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all. 

You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly. 

“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?” 

“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck. 

You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder. 

You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him. 

“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone. 

“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.

“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.

“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.

“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly. 

“Yes.” You say. 

“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.  

“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles. 

“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily. 

“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush. 

“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink. 

“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits. 

“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.

“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.

“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile. 

You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy. 

“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.

“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers. 

“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious. 

“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps. 

“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks. 

“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?” 

“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls. 

“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.

You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways. 

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.” 

“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs. 

“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-” 

The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. 

You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull. 

You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you? 

Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever. 

Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story. 

“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter. 

“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend. 

“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.  

“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down. 

“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.

“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.

“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.” 

“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.

You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down. 

You almost hadn’t come to the party. 

You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.

So here you were. 

You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one. 

At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him. 

And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li. 

It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning. 

Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it. 

Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.

You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.

“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile. 

“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.

“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?” 

“Huh?” You blink, confused.

“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music. 

“Nothing!” 

“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.

“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.  

“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal. 

The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin. 

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.” 

“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face. 

You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive? 

“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you. 

You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky. 

“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.” 

“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.

“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.

“Or something?” Jordan echoes.

“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him. 

“How do you figure that?” You laugh.

“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says. 

“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.

“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor. 

The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive. 

You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds. 

This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch. 

Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways. 

“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something. 

“What?”

“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group. 

“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly. 

“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with. 

The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing. 

As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.

“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” 

“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.

“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk. 

You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party. 

There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough- 

You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan. 

You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.

You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry. 

You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop. 

He just blinks up at you, owlish. 

"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison. 

Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are. 

As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life. 

Jordan shifts. 

You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love. 

You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever. 

It has to be. 

You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler. 

But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern. 

And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back. 

You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started. 

So you run.

Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly. 

Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough? 

Why did you fall in love with them? 

A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you. 

You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further. 

It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.

You burst into tears again. 

“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break. 

She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up. 

“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk. 

“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away. 

“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms. 

The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs. 

“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly. 

“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!” 

“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.

“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room. 

“What are you fucking talking about-”

“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.

You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes. 

Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again. 

You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly. 

“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”

You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer. 

“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word. 

“What?” 

Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.” 

“I’m me?” You echo. 

“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up. 

“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb. 

“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.” 

“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.

“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours. 

“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough. 

You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.” 

“When?!” 

“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap. 

“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back. 

You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne. 

“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again. 

In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.

Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.” 

“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.” 

“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you. 

“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?” 

“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows. 

“Three weeks ago I heard-”

“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.

“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!” 

“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”

“Hot.” 

“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”

“Shut up and be my everything.” 

“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it. 

And it’s perfect.

A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader #hey bee are you ever gonna do a non force field power having reader?? great question! answer is no adjkl #forcefields are THE coolest thing you can have #aside from the song she likes a boy i was thinking of hate that i love you rihanna and neyo while writing #if you see a fucking grammer error point it out i need to get this posted so i can MOVE ON adjkl this one has been kicking my ASS

[marragurl]

Ok so like…. Who makes Ratio’s statues? 

Because every possible explanation just opens up a whole new can of worms. 

I’ve been trying to go through as much info about him as I can, including his character stories, but I can’t find anything??? 

So I’m just left stewing in the dark, which usually leads to my humor coming into play. 

So like… are the statues of Ratio’s own making??

Because that would insinuate that he takes the time out of his busy life to constantly make new statues of just himself, including the multiple plaster heads. And if it’s not him physically and it is a manifestation of his Imaginary powers, he’s still making them right??? 

So he still chooses the poses! 

Why??? 

What is his thought process??? 

Physically made or Imaginary Powers made, it’s still his choice on what the statue should look like right???

And if it’s not a conscious decision, then WHAT DO THE JOJO AND CUTESY POSES MEAN

IS JOJO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURES FUCKING CANON IN HSR??

IS IT A SHOW THAT EXISTS??

ARE YOU TELLING ME ARAKI FUCKING EXISTS IN HSR??

AND RATIO IS A FAN?????? 

DON’T TELL ME IT’S JUST A FUN REFERENCE BY THE HSR TEAM, YEA IT’S META TO US BUT IT’S CANON TO THE REST OF THE UNIVERSE THAT RATIO HAS A STATUE OF HIMSELF DOING A JOJO POSE

On the other hand, if it’s not Ratio himself making them… who is it????

Is Ratio commissioning some artists?? Multiple artists? Only one?!?!? 

Is it some weird form of extra credit for his students???

(Student A: Hey wanna hang out tonight? 

Student B: Can’t. Gotta finish up this statue of Dr. Ratio examining his codex by Friday if I wanna get a passing grade in the class

Student A: You can sculpt???

Student B crying with 100 tabs of ‘how to sculpt’ videos and wikiHows pulled up and no sleep: I’m trying my best here Sharon)

Is he like those Renaissance time rich people who basically paid for their favorite artist’s livelihood in order to just make nice art in return??? Is there now a really well-off sculptor somewhere in the universe who is just constantly being paid by THE Dr. Ratio to make stone statues of the man??? Does the artist just put that down in their tax returns?? 

(back at it again with Topaz suffering from Ratiorine’s antics, she’s the one in charge of Ratio’s Sculptor’s taxes)

THAT STILL DOESN’T ANSWER THE STATUE POSE QUESTIONS

DID THE ARTIST ADD IN THE JOJO POSE AND HEART POSE AS A GAG??? AND SURVIVE RATIO SEEING THEM?? 

WORSE- DID RATIO COMMISSION THE POSES??? WHAT WAS THAT CONVERSATION EVEN LIKE??? DID HE HAVE TO POSE?? DOES THE ARTIST JUST HAVE AN ENTIRE SCRAPBOOK OF RATIO DOING DIFFERENT POSES FOR CONSTANT REFERENCE?

FUCK IT, DID AVENTURINE GET IN CONTACT WITH THE ARTIST AND PAY EVEN MORE MONEY FOR THE CUTESY POSES??

(Whole new thought process, the artist is making statues of Ratio for both Ratio AND Aventurine, and all the cute statues are actually commissions by Aventurine for his little Dr. Ratio idol crush shrine. There’s a constant slapstick comedy routine of Aventurine trying to hide them anytime Ratio comes over to his place and barely getting away with it. Does he ever come clean when they start dating? Do they start dating because Ratio finds the statues? Fuck it, if Ratio is the one making the statues and not an artist, does he teach Aventurine how to sculpt?? Does it become like something they do together to spend time?? Ok damn wait that’s kinda cute wait-)

WAIT ADDING ON TO THAT- DOES THAT MEAN FOLLOWING THIS THOUGHT PROCESS THAT AVENTURINE IS THE JOJO FAN???? HE’S A FUCKING JOTARO STAN???

(wait- brisk MC who’s rude to everyone but soft on those he cares about and has the muscles of a Greek god and eventually goes into academia, oh my fucking god Aventurine has a type)

PLEASE

I NEED TO KNOW WHERE ARE THESE STATUES COMING FROM

EVERYONE SEEMS TO KNOW ABOUT THEM, THEY AREN’T A SECRET

IS HIS HOUSE JUST FULL OF STATUES???

DOES HE HAVE A WHOLE-ASS GRECO-ROMAN-STYLE GARDEN FULL OF HIS OWN STATUES???

DOES THE ARTIST SEE A STATUE DISAPPEAR FROM THE GARDEN AND IMMEDIATELY KNOW RATIO USED HIS TECHNIQUE TO SLAM ONE DOWN BREAKING IT AND JUST GO “fucking hell man, I was just about to go on break! Now I need to start a new one!”

IS IT A HOBBY?? HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET INTO SCULPTING AS A HOBBY WITH HIS SCHEDULE???

ARE THEY GIFTS?? 

FROM WHO, STUDENTS??? ADMIRERS? FUCK IT, AVENTURINE???

DOES THE ARTIST BEING COMMISSIONED EVEN HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OF THE RATIO STATUES??? DO THEY EVEN HAVE THE ABILITY TO SCULPT ANYTHING OTHER THAN RATIO AT THIS POINT??? HAVE THEY SEEN ANY OTHER BEING OUTSIDE OF THEIR STUDIO AND THE HUNDREDS OF RATIO STATUES???

PLEASE I NEED SOMEONE TO ANSWER ME

#hsr #honkai star rail #dr. ratio #dr ratio honkai star rail #veritas ratio #hsr aventurine #ratiorine #aventio #aventurine #i wanna throw topaz in too but she's barely in 1 line #OK BUT SERIOUSLY #I'M GOING INSANE #EVER SINCE HIS TECHNIQUE WAS SHOWN MONTHS AGO #EVERYTIME I USE IT I GO SLIGHTLY MORE INSANE #PLZ #SOMEONE #GIVE ME AN ANSWER #(cite source plz) #Ratio makes me so mad sometimes #aventurine makes me wanna protect him #i wanna fist fight ratio #i'd lose 100% #no shot #wouldn't even last 10 seconds #verbal or phsyical #i'm going down #BUT SQUARE UP #GIVE ME ANSWERS

[skyward-floored]

Glasses

(Incredibles au)

...

“They’re back!”

At Wind’s shout, Wild shot up and bolted outside to the car pulling into their driveway, slightly using his speed even though he wasn’t supposed to. Four didn’t even have time to tell him to wait before his older brother was hanging off Twilight’s arm and shaking him.

Four felt a flash of annoyance as Wind ran ahead of him as well, but he stuffed it down and ran out to join them, and arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Wind and Wild’s begging.

“Where is it Twi? I want to see your photo! Warriors said they always look bad, I want to see! Let me see it!” they hounded simultaneously, but Twilight only brushed Wild’s hand off his arm with a morose look.

“I didn’t get it.”

Wild stopped in his tracks, and Four and Wind looked at each other, then back at Twilight.

“You... you didn’t get it? Why? How?” Wild said incredulously. “It’s a learner’s permit! They’re like, impossible not to get!”

“How did that happen?” Four asked in confusion.

“Apparently I can’t see well enough to drive,” Twilight mumbled, putting his hands in his pockets. “They said I have to get glasses if I want one.”

“Glasses?!”

Twilight nodded glumly, and his brothers looked at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you need glasses, your vision is great!” Four said with no small indignation on his brother’s behalf, and Twilight just sighed.

“Apparently it’s not good enough to pass the vision test for driving,” he said as Time also got out of the car. “I have to get them, or no learner’s permit.”

“But that’s not fair!” Wind cried, and Time put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s to keep the roads safe, Wind. You wouldn’t want someone who could barely see driving a car next to you, would you?” their father asked, and Wind relented a little.

“...okay, I guess not. But Twi can see fine! He’s never had trouble with looking at stuff!”

“I just barely didn’t pass,” Twilight grumbled. “I swear that lady had it out for me, I think she made the pictures blurrier on purpose.”

“Well we’ll see when we take you in for a proper eye appointment,” Time sighed, and Twilight nodded, still looking disappointed. Their father went inside, and Four watched as Twilight followed him, shoulders slumped and ears drooping.

“Poor Twi,” Wild said, shaking his head in disbelief. Four had to agree.

What a way to find out you needed glasses. And how could Twilight need glasses anyway? His vision was fine!

...then again, now that Four was thinking about it, sometimes Twilight did have some trouble seeing farther away stuff...

Well. It was still unfair.

“Well maybe he won’t actually need them,” Wind piped up. “He said the lady there didn’t like him, right? Maybe she was exaggerating, and when he goes to the eye doctor there won’t be anything wrong!”

“Maybe,” Four said doubtfully.

“Well... I’m gonna go see if Mom has cake ingredients,” Wild said as he began to walk back in the house. “Cake makes everything better.”

“Better make it carrot cake,” Wind said as he followed him. “It’ll help with Twi’s eyes.”

Four raised an eyebrow. “Wind, that’s not a real thing.”

“Well it might be, you never know!”

(...)

A week later, the three of them were once again waiting at the window when Twilight got out of the car, and Wild ran to greet him, Wind and Four trailing behind. This time though, Twilight didn’t even look at any of them, brushing past Wild and turning into a wolf the moment he was safely inside.

“Uh oh,” Four said, and they all looked at their father as he got out of the car.

Time wordlessly held up a glasses case.

“Oh no, poor Twi,” Wind moaned, and Wild looked back at the house. “The carrot cake didn’t work!”

“Wind you didn’t seriously think that was going to help, did you?” Four asked as he raised an eyebrow, and Wind shrugged.

“Well I was hoping for Twilight’s sake.”

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Wild said, but his father snagged his shirt before he could run off, shaking his head.

“Not right now, Wild, he’s not in the best mood. You can talk to him later,” Time said. “Give him some space for now.”

Wild nodded, and Time released his shirt, Four hearing him let out a sigh. Then he walked into the house, probably to tell their mother about the glasses. Legend scooted past him as he walked in, and joined his brothers on the lawn, scratching at his hat.

“I’m guessing by the grumpy wolf in our living room that Twilight didn’t have a good time at the eye doctor?” he asked.

“He got glasses,” Wind reported solemnly, and Legend blinked.

“...That’s all? Sheesh, you’d think he was going blind or something the way he looked at me and ‘rule. Why’s he so upset? They’re just glasses.”

“Are you kidding? Do you remember back when that one guy in Twi’s class got glasses? Everybody teased him, you wouldn’t want to be called four-eyes all the time, would you?” Wild said, then looked at Four. “No offense.”

Four shrugged, unbothered by the phrase (it wasn’t like he had glasses), and Legend raised an eyebrow. “But I thought he just has them for driving, he won’t even need them at school.”

“Unless his eyesight gets worse,” Four pointed out, and Wind elbowed him. “Ow, just sayin’.”

Four rubbed his side as they all began to trail back inside, and Wild scratched his head thoughtfully. “What I don’t get is that I thought wolves had good eyesight,” he said, looking confused. “How does Twilight need glasses if that’s true?”

Four perked up. “Well, they have good all-around vision, but their distance vision isn’t as good as Hylians. They can see movement pretty far away, but not clear details, plus the colors are a bit more muted then what we see,” he rattled off, and his brothers all stared at him. Four coughed. “...I got a wolf book from the library the other week.”

“Well anyway, I bet he’ll get used to the glasses,” Legend shrugged as he kicked his shoes off and walked away. “I’m just not looking forward to him being all mopey in the meantime though.”

A few of them nodded in agreement, and Four peeked into the living room. Twilight was flopped on the floor with his head sitting on his paws, and when he noticed Four looking, he got up and plodded away, tail drooping.

His brothers all watched him pad away, then looked at each other.

“...You’d better make another cake, Wild.”

(...)

Nobody saw much of Twilight the rest of the day, though Four tried to search him out a few times. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to be consoled, and Four went to bed that night wondering if he could do anything to help him.

He couldn’t take away Twilight’s glasses, but there had to be something he could do.

But what?

When Four woke up the next morning he hadn’t had any brilliant ideas, but went he into the bathroom, he found Twilight staring at himself in the mirror, a pair of glasses on his face.

Four froze, then hesitantly walked forward, studying his brother. Twilight flicked an ear at the sound of his footsteps, but didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at himself.

“Morning Twi,” Four ventured, leaning on the counter.

“Mornin’,” Twilight replied distantly, still staring at his reflection.

Four studied him for a second in silence, a bit struck at the unfamiliar figure in the mirror. It was still Twilight, but the glasses changed his appearance a fair amount. Having the frames on his face made Twilight look a little odd already, but he also looked... older, somehow, like he was an adult or something.

...Four wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“You’re trying on your glasses, huh?” Four asked after a minute, and Twilight nodded.

“Yeah. The doctor said I should wear them around so I’m used to them before I try and get my learner’s again or anything.”

“Well they look fine to me,” Four said, and Twilight gave him a half-smile.

“Thanks Smithy,” he said as Wild walked in, their other brother pausing as he grabbed his toothbrush.

“Whoa, weird. They make you look older,” Wild said, tilting his head and staring. “Like... kinda like Dad? But with glasses.”

“Dad with glasses. Thanks Wild,” Twilight snorted, but he didn’t look too bothered. Maybe he’s feeling better about them?

“Well what did you want me to say? That you look like a nerd?” Wild asked, and Twilight gave him a flat look.

“No, actually. Thanks.”

“Well he does kinda look like a nerd,” Legend said as he wandered in, drawn by the sound of their conversation. “A nice nerd. The kind that knows how to do calculus but still cries at baby birds— ack!”

While Legend was speaking, Twilight had reached over and grabbed him.

Four ducked out of the way while Legend tried to escape, and Wild laughed as Twilight noogied his brother, somehow managing to make Legend’s bedhead even messier.

“Alright alright stoppit! I take it back, you don’t look like a nerd!” Legend squawked, and Twilight released him, dusting his hands off. Legend grumpily smoothed his hair down, then smirked a little. “...they do make you look like some old dusty professor though.”

Twilight grabbed at him again, but Legend ducked and turned invisible, laughter and rapid footsteps quickly retreating from the room. Twilight huffed, and as he looked back at Wild and Four, Wild quickly muffled his laughter.

“Ah whatever, go ahead and laugh,” Twilight said with an eye roll. “I know they make me look dorky.”

Four frowned at the hint of bitterness in his voice. Okay, so maybe he isn’t feeling better about them after all. “I don’t think they make you look dorky,” he defended, and Wild nodded, starting in on brushing his teeth.

“I fink they make youwook fmart,” he said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “Wike a fwibrarian or somefwin.”

“Like a Librarian. Right. Just the look I want,” Twilight sighed, and he looked at himself in the mirror again.

Wild finished brushing and spat, and Four caught Twilight’s sleeve, making sure he was looking.

“Don’t listen to Legend, he’s just being dumb,” Four said. “And Wild. I think the glasses look nice, they don’t make you look bad.”

“Hey, I never said they looked bad,” Wild defended, and Twilight snorted.

“You kinda implied it.”

“Okay well maybe I did, but I wasn’t trying to.” Twilight still looked unimpressed. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you; if anyone at school gives you trouble, I’ll beat them up,” Wild said with a grin as he pounded his fist into his palm.

“No, nope, no fights at school,” Twilight said, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I appreciate the thought, though. Thanks Wild. And you too, Four.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Wild said with some finger guns, though the effect was a bit ruined by the toothpaste on his chin. Then he zipped off, and Twilight and Four were left alone again.

Twilight glanced at the mirror and his smile fell a bit, and Four frowned. “Hey Twi?”

“Yeah?” his older brother asked, and Four nudged him.

“I think you look nice. For real. The glasses make you look... mature. Smart,” Four said. “And I’d split now and tell you with four people except Red would probably cry and I don’t want to look like I’ve been crying.”

Twilight chuckled, and gave his hair a bit of a ruffle. “No worries. Thanks Four.”

Four smiled. “You’re welcome.”

The two of them finished in the bathroom then, Four still keeping an eye on Twilight. He still didn’t seem too happy about the glasses, giving his reflection an uneasy look as they left the bathroom, but at least he seemed more cheery overall as they went downstairs. That was a win in Four’s book.

And if anyone at school did give Twilight any flack about the glasses... well.

Maybe Wild’s idea wasn’t such a bad one.

#set sometime after the movie-ish #linkeduniverse #linked universe #incredibles au #lu twilight #lu four #lu Wild #linked universe fic #incredibles au fic #writing from the floor #also #based somewhat off a true story #my poor sister XD #anyways I did my research on wolf vision but I apologize if the stuff here is incorrect #looking up ‘are wolves nearsighted’ didn’t get many results unfortunately

[houseofevanbuckley]

I just have this head canon that one night while he and Tommy are just sleeping, Buck has this awful nightmare where he relives Eddie getting shot. Tommy is jarred away by Buck scrambling out of bet and rushing to the bathroom to wash his face in his confusion. It's a terrifying thing but once Tommy has Buck back in bed and Buck tearfully tells him what the dream was about, he's so understanding and amazing he actually bundles Buck up and they go to their Diaz boys together, no jealous or insecurity, just the five of them being their for each other like a whole ass family

This ! All of this !

I wish my baby wasn’t hurt that way but it is part of him now. It wouldn’t be his first nightmare while he sleeps with Tommy, but it’s the first one that’s strong enough that he can’t hide it. Waking up gasping for hair, his arm scratching at his chest trying to claw at his lungs to make them work! To make them do their job. The darkness of the room closing on him while his lungs are.still.not.working!

And then light appear and Tommy’s arms get around him, pulling him agasint his chest. He put his own hand on Buck’s chest, rubbing on it while he talks in his ear. Just repeating numbers again and again, getting Buck to focus on him. “ In, 1 2,3,4… Out 5,6,7,8,9… In,12,3,4”

It takes a while but he finally can get a breath in, making the stars that were starting to appear over his vision recede.

They stay silent for a while, tremors still running over Buck’s body, being replaced by Tommy hands rubbing along his arms, his chest.

Tommy doesn’t want to push Buck so he waits for him for a minute, and then two, and three.

Until he feels water on the arm rubbing Buck’s chest.

“Baby…” he says, pain in his voice at seeing his boyfriend like that.

He pulls him more agasint his own body, his chest covering the entirety of Buck’s back like a shield, and Buck breaks.

His breath stutters but the panic doesn’t come back. He talks then. He talks about that boy they saved. About how proud and happy Eddie was when they left his house. He was right. He saved that boy. And then the bullet. The blood. The hiding under a car. The dragging. And the wait. The wait for help, the time running away as they struggled to get away. To get to the real help, to the hospital.

And more wait.

Tears are flowing freely as he talks about it. Telling Christopher. Waiting again.

And Tommy gets it. He was in the military. He gets seeing his people shot, the one that are here to support you, to help you. Brothers and sisters. His heart break for his boy. His sweet boy who just want to save the world, to protect the ones he loves and even the ones he doesn’t.

He should have never been in this situation, none of them should have.

He takes a decision then. He may not be able to bring his own ghost back, but Buck doesn’t have these. His people are here, and they’re ready to support him.

He stands up when Buck finally calm down enough that he feel he can leave him for a few second.

He goes doesnstairs to get some water and grab his phone on the counter, sending a quick text to Eddie. Not saying too much, he knows Buck would rather run away than talks about his nightmare, but he says enough.

He goes up to Buck’s room, with some room temperature water, something that wouldn’t attack his throat or his body with some temperature chock.

He has him drink two glasses before he put the bottle on the bedside table and tells him to stand up while he grabs Buck’s comfy hoodie on his dresser and a sweatpants.

“Wha-what?” bucks asks, bewildered by clothes being thrown his way.

Tommy who comes back in front of him and kiss his birthmark

“Trust me, baby”

And Buck does. He does completely.

It takes them ten minutes to get fully ready. Tommy heard his phone buzz downstairs and when they go down he sees the answer he expected.

“Come on, baby” he says grabbing his boyfriend hand and gently pulling him outside and to his care.

“Where are we going ?”

“Where you need to be”

It takes them less than 20 minutes to reach the Diaz house, at 4 am the traffic is quiet all over town and Buck has recognized the way they were taking half way through their trip

“Tommy…”

“It’s ok baby,” he says, putting his hand on Buck’s thighs the rest of the way.

When they reach the house, Eddie is waiting at the door, hair in every direction, tank top and sweatpants on.

He welcomes them with a hug each, lingering in Buck’s when he feels how Buck sags against him and Tommy just watches with a soft smile and a grateful nod when Eddie looks his way.

They make their way inside and Christopher is sitting at the table, ice cream boxes open in front of him with some bowls, a documentary is playing on low volume on the tv and the boy smile at Buck, his own hair reflecting his dad’s.

“Guys,” whispers Buck, awed that anyone would do that. That they’d wake up for him, be there for him. He turns back to Tommy who took him there, kissing him on the lips softly.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes shining.

“Come on baby,” says Tommy, guiding him to the table, “gotta be quick before Christopher steals all the chocolate mint.”

They stay there the rest for he night and well into the day. Being there for Buck this night, like they’d be there for the others on an other night. Like a family should

#anon games #anon ask #the Buck-Diaz family is so dear to me and adding Tommy to it makes it only stronger #bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #tevan #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #evan buck buckley #buck and tommy #evan x tommy #tommybuck #kinley #don’t mind the typos #it’s 7am and my brain is still mush

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: Alright, we got one last question. It’s from JediPony. [chuckles] Love that name, I don’t know why. It makes me laugh. [reading question] “How would you write an 06 adaptation in Sonic X?” Here’s the question, would you write the 06 adaptation in Sonic X the show, or Sonic X the comic?

IAN FLYNN: [laughs] KYLE: It’s very— two very different things. IAN:Very different things. I don’t know, if we’re gonna be true to the source material, then Elise doesn’t really have a role, and Chris is the one who has the Flames of Disaster sealed inside him. KYLE: [laughing] Oh no! Oh! IAN: “Chris, whatever you do, you can’t cry!” [as Chris, weepily] “But why?!” [Iblis roar] KYLE: It’s all he does! [laughs] No! IAN: Oh, man, now I’m imagining Mephiles with, like, that really bad early 2000s CG effect. All these awful filters flyin’ around. KYLE: Oh, God, no! [laughing] This would be awful. IAN: You’d have, like, the budget episodes where Soleanna and New City are just, like, these flat, grey urban textures that have like, no depth, but then you get to the final episode where they’re doing the Super fight against Solaris, and the animation bump goes through the roof, and it’s glorious. And you forgive the last 26 episodes of your life that you’ve wasted watching it so far. KYLE: Mhm. IAN: [choking the words out through high pitched, wheezing laughter] This means Chris is the one that kisses Sonic back to life! [fit of maniacal laughter] KYLE: [frantic, horrified laughter] No! No! No! No! Ian, no! Ian! No! IAN: [prolonged cackling laughter] KYLE: The worst timeline! Oh, no! IAN: Oh, and Eggman has to be as close as they can get him to photorealistic Eggman in the Sonic X style. KYLE: No! IAN: Which does not work at all! KYLE: No, no, no! No! This is not going on the thumbnail! No! IAN: [wheezing laugh] KYLE: No, do not put this on the thumbnail! [laughing] IAN: Oh, my goodness, just imagine the art errors for Silver’s head alone… KYLE: Oh… no… oh, no… at least Dan Green could still be the voice of Mephiles. IAN: Oh, yeah, that’d be fantastic. [microphone glitches] That’s the only reason to do this. KYLE: That would be— yeah. Oh… IAN: Oh, would they try to hand-animate Omega? Or would he be like, early 2000s CG? KYLE: Just crappy CG, no! IAN: That you just composite into each shot… oh, man, it’d be awful! KYLE: [pained sound not unlike he is receiving a fully conscious appendectomy] Oh! IAN: Wait! [microphone glitches again] They did the weird thing with Sonic and Shadow’s spines when they would turn their heads. What would Silver look like?! KYLE: [resigned groan] IAN: Would it just be like, one giant spine, depending on the angle? [bursts into laughter] KYLE: [groans as if he is dying] Ian… what are you doing… why are you— IAN: [microphone glitches again as if resisting] The Iblis monsters would have the terrible CG effects, too! KYLE: Why am— why am I the reasonable one!

IAN: [laughs] KYLE: Why am I the one who’s being… [gives up on finishing this sentence] IAN: Forget the comic, the comic can’t hold a candle to this idea! KYLE: Oh, no… IAN: [in awe] What a glorious trainwreck! KYLE: What’s even funnier is that your mic is trying to stop you. IAN: [cackles] KYLE: It’s not working. [laughs] So cursed! IAN: The whole thing would be so awful… KYLE: Yeah? IAN: But then there would be, like, this incredibly well-written and poignant subplot about Elise dealing with her emotional trauma, and how Soleanna as a country even works. And it’s like, maybe an episode, maybe two that really gets into it and fleshes out this world in a meaningful and robust manner. KYLE: [chuckles] Yeah. IAN: And that’s it. That’s like— that and Dan Green are the only redeeming things out of this season. KYLE: [sigh, reading chat] Ian, in the chat… IAN: Yeah. KYLE: In the Bumblekast Discord server, open it up. There’s a little piece of art there. Someone has, uh, sketched Silver. [chuckles] IAN: [seeing it, delighted, evil] Yes! KYLE: [laughing] IAN: Cursed Toucan Sam! KYLE: [cackles] Oh no! Why do you…? No! Awful! Toucan— IAN: [as Silver] “Just follow my nose, wherever it goes!” KYLE: [horrified, amused] Toucan Silver! No! [emits the world’s most drawn-out, pained cry of defeat] IAN: Psycho-beak-nesis! KYLE: [laughing] Bumblekast was a mistake! IAN: [laughs] It was, but at least we’re over with it for today. KYLE: [laughing] Oh… I guess so.[outro music fades in]

EPISODE THUMBNAIL by the incredible @nintendoni-art

—— TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It’s just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don’t like an answer, you don’t have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It’s all just for fun!

#bumblekast #ian flynn #kyle crouse #sonic the hedgehog #idw sonic #sonic x #sonic 06 #princess elise #silver the hedgehog #soleanna #e 123 omega #eggman #writing questions #Youtube

[dazai-ritualist]

You said you willing to write another part?! WELL IM ALL FOR IT!!! EREEEEEEERFFHENEN

Ok so perhaps the mother or father of Ken goes a little crazy perhaps they set reader’s home on fire. (It’s up to you if the kids are in it or not. Or perhaps you can make it where they come in one by one.) Reader could probably die from the house fire and end up in hell. Noah could’ve gotten shot while on the job and Emi could’ve gotten murdered(when she’s a tad more older of course) the family back together in hell and reader thinking she was free from Al only to fall into his arms again.

There is always going to be that one angry family member blaming reader and her kids for the death of their loved one.

IMGONNAGETYOUBACK.

[why not read the story first? 😋]

— 6 years after your husband’s passing, he decides that it’s been far too long. and, he enlists the help of a certain imp to retrieve his wife from the over-world.

hell was not all so bad. it was quite similar to the living world, only with the company of the supernatural. as soon as alastor had arrived in hell, it was quite easy to gain power— inflict terror by using their fear of dying once more and take advantage of their greed for power.

but, this was all just far too boring. killing overlords, quite repetitive. and it was so awfully dull to terrorize sinners on the streets of pentagram city. alastor wanted someone who’d fight back. alastor wanted you.

he was in hell though. was there even a way to get you? of course there is. if it was you that alastor desired so badly, it’d be you who he’d get. he’d find a way, even if he had to claw his way out of hell and drag you down to the dark depths with him.

though, it seems he wouldn’t have to. rumor has it there’s a small start up company in imp city. a company who specializes in killing humans in the over-world given pay. might as well investigate, right?

and so, alastor headed off to imp city, finding a rundown office building where this I.M.P. supposedly ran their business. and on the 7th floor (according to the sign in the elevator), he, indeed, found their headquarters.

“oh fucking finally, someone’s using the door for once!” the tall imp cursed out. “nice to meet ‘ya. i’m blitzø, the ‘o’ is silent.” he said, shaking alastor’s hand. “right, my name is alastor. pleasure to be meeting you, my good man, quite the pleasure!” he nodded assuredly as he wiped his hand on the coat. “sooo… if you’re here, you must want someone gone, hm? who is it? ex-wife? did she fuck the next door neighbor or something? c’mon, give me the all the dirty details!” blitzø asked, overwhelming him with questions.

“ah, not quite. you have a portal to the human realm, correct?” alastor asked, confirming the rumors. “yeah, if you’re thinking about going in with us, no can do.” blitzø shrugged defeatedly. “ah, no, no. just confirming the rumors.” he said. “i want you to go into the human realm, yes. and, i need you to kill my wife. i miss her dearly.” he sighed sorrowfully, despite his smile.

“yeah— see, i can’t guarantee your wife’s gonna go down here if she was some sorta saint or whatever.” blitzø said. “oh, she will most definitely go to hell, i can assure you that.” alastor grinned. despite alastor’s assurance, blitzø seemed unconvinced… “i’ll pay you handsomely.” alastor said, summoning a sum of money with a flick of his wrist. “it’s a deal! MILLIE, MOXXIE, GET YOUR ASSES HERE!” blitzø shouted out to what seemed to be a conference room. “don’t you worry, sir! we’ll make sure your wife’s down here by the end of the week!” he assured alastor cheerfully, his demeanor seemingly changing after the topic of money was brought into the conversation. “ah, very well then!” alastor grinned as he shrugged off, dropping the sum of cash by the doorstep as he left.

by the end of the week? he could wait that long.

1939, the great depression had finally passed. without alastor to provide for the family, it had been hard. but, the three of you had been able to manage. your children had grown into wonderful adults, noah taking in his widowed mother and unmarried sister along with his own family.

your daughter-in-law was simply the sweetest thing. she reminded you of your innocent self all those years ago. but, your son is better than his father. there’s no reason to worry at all.

everything was good now. everything is fine.

“ma, you okay? you hardly touched your food.” noah asked. “hm? it’s alright, dear. i’m not so hungry anyway. francesca, eat up, will you? you must nourish yourself after all.” you pushed your plate towards your daughter-in-law, pregnant with her second child. “ah, really? alright then, thank you…” she bashfully grinned, accepting your plate.

“here, darling. let me take claire to bed.” you smiled, taking your granddaughter into your arms from her high chair. “eh? you sure, momma?” noah asks. “of course i am! just eat, dear. i’ll be fine if i skip a meal or two.” you assured your son as you headed up, taking claire to her cradle upstairs.

the small thing was already drooling and passing out in her chair. she had to rest in her crib, lest she get terrible posture. you burped the tiny baby over your shoulder before lowering her down as she clings to her binky, a plush of a bunny in a pink dress.

you admired the adorable baby for a few more moments before deciding to return to your room. but, as you were doing so, a bullet pierced the window, glass shards getting all over claire. “wh…what in the world..?!” you panicked as you ran back to your granddaughter, removing the sharp shards from her soft skin.

“satan almighty, what the fuck was that moxxie?!” a voice roared from outside, in the trees..? “i’m sorry, sir— there was a child! i couldn’t hurt it just because the target was there.” the so-called moxxie reasoned. “well, good job, cause you got glass on the little shit and woke it up!” the voice huffed out.

you cooed to your granddaughter, hushing her cries and gently rubbing her wounds. and just then, these mysterious creatures hopped in from the window. “ow— fuck, thanks a lot, moxxie, you fucking cuck!” the tallest creature groaned, painfully picking out the shards of glass on his feet. the moxxie creature looked rightfully offended as he held his gun towards you.

“who are you? are you here to kill me..?” you asked, frightful for your life. “who sent you?!” you started to grow defensive. “yeah, that doesn’t matter. all that does is that someone wants you dead. so, can we skip the whole ‘begging for your life’ thing?cause that’s not working on us.” the creature shrugged.

you looked everywhere for some sort of escape route. your eyes darted everywhere, trying so desperately to find a way out of this odd situation. but, there was nothing. there was no way to win this, the only thing you could do was accept your fate.

you kissed claire one last time, laying her in her cradle with her binky once more. because— well, that was all that you could do. you went in front of the gun, and lowered yourself to your knees. and with the muzzle in physical contact with your forehead…

BAM!

you bled out on the floor.

and, when you awoke, you were in an alleyway. the sky was red, and it smelt awful. your body felt weak. you stood up, looking for any reflective surface. you didn’t know what it was, but something was off.

you searched, coming upon a window from a store. and, there it was. your new appearance. your skin shined, reflecting in the red sky. and, clinked with each step you took; porcelain. your lips were as red as blood, and you were dressed in a simple dress, befitting a woman of your time.

the bell of the store rang, a red-deer man had been exiting. he glanced at you, curious. “ehh… pardon me, sir. do i know you? your staring is making me awfully uncomfortable…” you told the man. “ah! just as i thought.” he said through a radio filter. “just as you thought..?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“oh, darling, don’t you remember me? it’s me, your husband!” he grinned widely, taking you into his arms.

…

it all made sense now. he had paid those creatures to kill you… for his own selfish desires. from a demon such as alastor, you should have probably seen it coming.

“come along now, my love. 6 years is an awfully long time. we have a lot of catching up to do!” he pulled you along by your elbow. “and, smile, darling. you’re never fully dressed without one!” he sang out. “of course, darling…” you said as grit your teeth. the vomit you had to hold back was almost irrepressible.

and, as he dragged you along, it made you think.

was there truly a god?

a god who was merciful?

because, no merciful god would bind you with this demon in life and death.

EKKK HI!!! i acc have my own lore for wjen the children die 😋💞

— noah; age 56 (he goes to hell for his cover-up last chapter and animal cruelty) he married and had 3 kids 😋

— emilia; age 62 (she goes to hell for manipulating sm people into doing dirty work for her) she died unmarried, lowk thinking that she’d move in with her best friend despite it being controversial at the time

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

[nalyra-dreaming]

Reading the S2 reviews (so beware spoilers ahead!). Wanted to get your take (and others’ if people have thoughts!), citing The Wrap’s review:

“Daniel might be the most radically different character from book to screen. He’s older, more pessimistic and utterly allergic to the allure of vampire life. Only now he is able to confront the deep-seated scars left behind after his night with Louis (although book fans might be disappointed to know that the show doesn’t tease out more of the romance he has with Armand in the books. Theirs is strictly an adversarial relationship in the series.)”

Other reviews confirm that S02E05/the episode about Daniel’s past is not romantic at all, rather a horror episode. Which I’m sure will be good (some describe it as the best episode), but I can’t help being a bit disappointed that they don’t seem to be doing DM - or at least not in this season at all. I think the reviews only cover episodes 1-6, but this reviewer seems so very sure… (also they seem to know the books so I’m guessing the episode won’t be too similar to the book either. Meaning it won’t end with “the chase” or will it?). So is there a real risk that no DM will play out?. The greatest hint of DM in my view was Zaman’s podcast appearance where he stated that Armand is curious about Daniel and that there is a history there. But this could just be referring to their horror-filled encounter in episode five. So I don’t know, I’m a little sad - was pretty excited for some f*cked up memory stuff (there is just something so compelling with the idea of discovering that there is a whole side of your life that you’ve lost - that this person you don’t know is someone you loved etc.). I wanted to see what it would do to Daniel and Armand respectively, and I wanted their dynamic to be as interesting as possible. Remember reading speculation that Daniel will remember more in the finale - maybe a romantic aspect but I think it was just pure speculation, no hints or comments from the cast/writers backing this up.

What do you think? Grateful to hear your thoughts! Also, I’m still psyched about this season of course, looking forward to the Armand/Louis romance, the Theatre! Hayles performance is supposedly going to be amazing, and I’m looking forward to more of Daniel’s snark obviously! It feels unreal that the season is around the corner!

It is!!! And I am also sooooo hyped, it's unreal *laughs*

Okay, so... first of all, it's always a thing of perspective with reviews. For example, there's this as well, after episode 1:

Now... that is no review, granted.

But it's perception. I... do not think that all of the "Devil's Minion" will be spelled out in the first episodes (nor do I think we will get all of it this season!). In fact, I think the horror that "he loved this monster" is part of the horror of it all, this realization. And that will very likely be in the last episodes, in whichever way.

So. With that in mind - btw, which review did confirm it's ep5? (I only saw that focused comment I think?) - I did not expect Devil's Minion to be "happy". In fact, I think it might have stalking, cages, attacks, and the beginning of the chase - and that chase does NOT start out as cute.

Daniel just gets used to it, over time. And then Armand falls in love.

Season 2 is going to be significantly darker. I bet it's also going to be a lot campier, if the comments to this hold true, with dark humor. But they're leaning fully into the horror aspects of this vampire world now, and the beginning of the Devil's Minion is exactly that - horrific.

The above review matches with what Jacob said about Louis and Daniel forming alliances... and I bet that alliance is indeed needed to drag the whole story out.

And when that whole story is out - that will lead to repercussions.

THAT in turn goes for Louis just as much as it goes for Daniel... because this second interview has just as much to do with him.

So... I would wait until you can see it with your own eyes?! :)

I mean... AMC's promotion(al pairing of the actors) speaks a very loud language? And Assad said he had chemistry read with "Daniel"... for reasons.

But it won't all be revealed in the screeners. I bet the last two episodes will pack a punch.

Maybe even literally. 😜

#Anonymous #sending you a hug nonny #we will get the whole story no worries #but we might not get it all this season #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire #the devil's minion #armand #daniel molloy #devil's minion #iwtv s2

[xamaxenta]

There’s a pizza delivery place near my place named “Marco”. So i have an option for a modern MA/MAS au, that just tickles me and i wanted to share with my fav MAS blogger.

Marco helping part time at his brother’s pizzeria and he keeps delivering to a certain home with a cute freckled boy with the biggest chest he has ever seen that somehow always answers the door topless.

Ace should not be eating this much pizza but he just can’t help wanting to see the sexy older blonde. Sabo is the one who ends the very unhealthy flirting style through the power of debauchery and seduction.

Marco does not make it for the rest of his deliveries. 

You know what i had a really stupid MarcoAce au where Marco doesnt work for the food industry, but when Thatch needs help he takes deliveries on foot to around the surrounding neighbourhood on his way home from the hospital/office

And Thatch calls him up one day like brobro i need a favourrrrrr can you take this order to the golden gates

And marcos like huh and Thatch snickers like the fancy place you live in, the rit carlton ass place next door ordered can ya take it over so hes like sure why not

Shows up at the aforementioned ritz carlton lookalike serviced apartments he lives next door to and gets buzzed in to deliver to the door as promised

Hes not sure what to expect the name on the receipt is Portgas and nothing else he doesnt recognise the name as anyone particularly wealthy but whos he to judge, but its not uncommon for politicians to reside here is all

Door opens to one of the cutest hottest attractive men he’s ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, hes barely dressed too, if that can be believed

Its like the bad opening to a porno when “Portgas” beams at him like all sweet, voice has a southern twang like “hey gorgeous!! Thank you for delivering right to my doorstep, lemme tip ya for that inconvenience.”

marco heart racing waits for Ace to return and after a clatter and a swear Ace shuffles back over his smile still charming but sheepish like oh shit my lil brother took my gym bag n my wallet was in there, dont suppose youd take other methods of payment

Wink.

Wink.

Marco cannot believe his ears but hes. Down bad so hes like uh yeah yeah, um.

And ace laughs hes so beautiful like oh my god? You thought i was propositionin? Well.

Eyes him over like youre not shabby at all handsome, i meant do you take payment over the phone!

Has another giggle over it

But marcos in too deep to back out

So in he goes over the threshold fancy pizza and all and they have crazy wild sex lmao

[m0tiv8me]

This morning was stretching with 105 total push-ups and 100 crunches in 15 min.

I’m so ready for this “MAYbe I Can” challenge and I’m super inspired by everyone who’s joining in. The goals they are choosing the positive support, the accountability and the ability to help cheer each other on.

Personally I can’t wait to see everyone’s progress throughout the month both mentally and physically and in my initial trials I’m already able to do more pushups and crunches in 15 minutes than I thought I’d be able to. Which has me excited to see where I’m at in a month.

DAY 01 post goes up at 12:00am central time tonight. Feel free to reblog and add an update at any point in the day after you’ve completed your 15 minutes. Don’t fear road blocks or unexpected circumstances. Life happens and everyday can’t be a success. Still share and let this group help encourage you and keep you going. You can always tag me @m0tiv8me in your own posts if you wish and my DM’s are open for anyone who wishes to not share publicly.

Here is who I got so far, @thoughts-sex-desires @definitely-grown @perspective24 @joshuamusclefan @52fit @runningfromthecuccos @athousandmorningss @marine-corps-strong @healthymist @integrationslady @lucky-jewels @tenacioustam @the-curvy-crossfitter @poh-fitblr

if you want in let me know and I’ll add you to the daily update tags. If you prefer to not be tagged also let me know and I’ll remove you.

#maybe i can #may challenge #goals #mental health #physical health

[bultaoreunheyyy]

The Voice of a Leader (2/3)

Title: The Voice of a Leader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: Namjoon works through feeling like shit until he can’t any more.

Sickie: Namjoon

Caretakers: OT7

A/N: Written for this request 

There is one short non-graphic instance of vomiting in this chapter

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Namjoon grabs his soft fleece blanket he usually keeps draped over the back of his desk chair before he goes out into the living room, wrapping it around his shoulders to combat the sudden chill that runs through him. 

A sneeze sneaks up on him right as he nears the end of the hallway, and he’s barely able to lift the blanket to his face before it explodes out of him, so abrupt and wet that he feels the result of not covering his mouth and nose in time as a mist settles over his right arm. 

Gross. So, so gross.    

As he recovers from the disgusting, disorienting sneeze, shaking his head and blinking against watery eyes, he hears a soft, “Bless you, hyung!” 

Jungkook is staring at him over the back of the couch, eyes wide with worry. 

“Thanks, Koo,” he murmurs, walking the rest of the way into the living room. He sits down in the spot next to Jungkook, feeling completely embarrassed by the way the younger man is staring at him in concern.  

“Jiminie hyung picked out the movie,” Jungkook whispers before snuggling up against his side, a giant bowl of popcorn cradled in his lap.  

Namjoon tenses when Jungkook leans so heavily against him, but he forces himself to relax when Jungkook leans his head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. He realizes that Jungkook is a nice, cozy warmth against him, and it puts him at ease to have him cuddled up so affectionately.

Fortunately, the painkillers finally kick in about ten minutes into the movie, which is when Jungkook lifts his head from Namjoon’s shoulder and leans close to his ear.

“Want some popcorn?” He offers sweetly, and Namjoon is both shocked and touched because it’s Jungkook’s popcorn– a giant bowl that he usually devours completely by himself despite it being twice the amount of what the others share between the six of them. 

He’s honored, honestly, so he takes a handful when Jungkook tips the bowl toward him, tossing it into his mouth without a second thought even though he’s not at all hungry.

The popcorn irritates his throat before he’s even finished swallowing it, making him cough until Seokjin appears in front of him with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” he croaks, blushing when he sees the movie is paused. “Sorry. You didn’t have to stop the movie.”

Seokjin ignores him. “I’m getting drinks from the kitchen, who wants what?” He glances at Namjoon. “I can brew some tea or something.”

“How about hot cocoa instead?” Taehyung suggests hopefully, and Seokjin laughs. 

“Hot cocoa it is.”

Seokjin disappears into the kitchen. He soon comes back with a few beverages– a Sprite for Hoseok, water for Jimin and Jungkook– and then he goes to the kitchen and returns a few minutes later carrying a tray with four steaming mugs on it. He passes one out to each Yoongi, Taehyung and Namjoon and keeps the last for himself. 

It feels nice to sip on the hot cocoa, and Namjoon feels it soothe his throat from where the popcorn had irritated it. Jungkook eats the rest of his popcorn long before Namjoon is finished with his drink, so when he sets his mug down on the coffee table Jungkook is waiting to latch onto him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head against his chest. 

“Comfy?” Namjoon chuckles when Jungkook yawns into the front of his shirt. 

“Very,” Jungkook replies.

Between the warmth in his belly and the warmth of Jungkook on top of him, Namjoon finds himself growing very sleepy very quickly. Each time Jungkook yawns, it triggers a yawn for him too, and soon his cheek is resting on top of Jungkook’s head, his own head feeling too heavy to hold up. He feels warm, almost hot, but not enough that he wants to move, and before the movie is even halfway through he can feel himself nodding off. 

Soon, Namjoon is so tired that he can’t keep his eyes open a second longer, and he falls asleep sitting up, only vaguely aware of Jungkook reaching up and rubbing soft circles on his chest as he drifts off. 

*

Namjoon is shaken awake what feels like five minutes later by Hoseok, whose face is so close to his that it makes his eyes hurt when he tries to focus on him. They’re the only two left out in the living room, the room dark and quiet. The only light in the room is coming from the dimmed lamp in the corner.

“Huh? Time is it?” He asks, feeling entirely confused about where he is and why his mouth and throat are so dry– almost painfully so– and why his sinuses are prickling the way that happens sometimes when he’s around too much dust.

He coughs once, bringing a fist up to scrub at his eyes, then his nose. Suddenly, Hoseok leans far back, almost flinching. Namjoon is about to question why when the prickling sensation in his nose intensifies and a sneeze barrels out of him, tearing through his throat.

“Sorry,” he rasps, coughing once and dragging his forearm under his nose. “Fuck.”

Hoseok is back in his space, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed. He touches Namjoon’s forehead with his fingertips, carding his hands through his short hair afterward. “Bedtime,” he says, sounding pretty cheerful for someone who looks so worried.

Namjoon ducks away from his hand and pushes himself up off the couch. He still feels like he’s half asleep. When he stands, his legs shake and his stomach flip-flops, and he can’t help the faint whimper that escapes his lips. 

“Joon?” Hoseok says, a soft inquiry that conveys his concern, but Namjoon can’t make himself look over. 

“Bedtime,” he manages to say. “Yeah. I’m gonna head to bed.” He swallows thickly, heart pounding as he pushes the sensation down and wills himself to make it to his bedroom without Hoseok noticing or worrying more about him than he already is. 

And as soon as he gets to his room, he shuts the door and nearly collapses on his bed without bothering to change into pajamas first, and promptly passes out. 

*

When Namjoon’s alarm goes off on Saturday morning, he jerks awake, a tangle of limbs and sheets as he twists around to try to find his phone. 

He manages to silence his alarm, and then he sits there for a moment, looking down at his clothes from yesterday that he’s still wearing in confusion. As he scrubs at his eyes and tries to remember the night before, he stares down at the phone, reading the calendar notification for a meeting in one hour with a growing sense of dread. So much for a day off to sleep in. He can’t believe he nearly forgot about his Saturday morning meeting that had been scheduled, and he’s grateful he remembered to set the alarm days ago.

Namjoon sighs and tries to resist the urge to climb back under the covers and fall back asleep. His cheeks are hot but the rest of him feels cold, and there’s a headache just behind his eyes. For some reason, his nose is a bit stuffy, and as he clears his throat he wonders if he slept with his mouth open or snored the whole night with the way it feels so dry. 

The whole time he’s getting ready, Namjoon feels disoriented. He puts on clothes, adding an extra sweater to combat the chill that’s enveloping his whole body, and then brushes his teeth and splashes cold water on his face. Before he leaves the bathroom, he decides to take a painkiller, and then he spends one more minute staring in horror at his reflection in the mirror because he honestly looks like shit. It both looks and feels as though he got two hours of sleep instead of seven.  

When he exits the bathroom and makes his way down the hall, he sees that only Yoongi and Taehyung are awake, eating breakfast together in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Yoongi says, smiling at him, but Taehyung gasps.

“What happened to you?” He asks, looking at Namjoon with a mixture of surprise and concern in his expression. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Rude,” Namjoon says– or, he tries to, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper that makes Taehyung’s eyes widen even further. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Yoongi asks, a little more subtle with his concern but now looking at Namjoon with a frown.

Namjoon sighs. “Work,” he tries to say. He clears his throat several times, but when he attempts to answer again his voice doesn’t sound much better. “Sorry,” he croaks. “I think I talked a lot yesterday.” 

“You talk a lot every day,” Taehyung says, eyeing Namjoon as he goes back to his cereal. 

“Isn’t that an optional meeting?” Yoongi asks. “You should skip it.”

But Namjoon can’t just skip it. He feels like he’s expected at meetings like this whether it’s explicitly stated or not, and he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone by not showing up. 

Instead of responding, Namjoon fills a glass with water and gulps it down, hoping to clear the frog in his throat before he has to head to the meeting. He glances down at his watch, resigns himself to the fact that his voice might be a little hoarse for the day, and then drinks one more glass of water before he heads out the door.

*

Namjoon’s voice is completely gone by the time he gets home.

The thing is– he doesn’t remember how he got home, only that he’s here now and that he feels like he could collapse as he unlocks the front door. 

In the entryway, he looks down at his shoes and tries to judge if he’ll be able to take them off without bedding down, and then stumbles as soon as he takes a step, barely catching himself on the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly and trying to regain his sense of balance.

“Why are you hugging the wall?” A voice behind him asks. 

Namjoon cracks one eye open. Jimin approaches him, and he reaches out, his palm settling between Namjoon’s shoulder blades. His hand moves up, cupping the back of Namjoon’s neck before he slides it up to his cheek.

“Oh my goodness, you’re burning up!” Jimin gasps. “Seokjinnie hyung!” He calls, turning his head towards the hallway. “Yoongi hyung!”   

Seokjin gets there first, and before Namjoon can process what’s going on he and Jimin are on either side of him, guiding his arms over their shoulders and leading him down the hallway towards his bedroom. He feels like he’s weighed down by sandbags and the only thing that’s keeping him upright is their support. 

They lead him to sit on his bed and Jimin kneels down in front of him, sliding his shoes and then his socks off his feet.

“Oh,” Namjoon croaks. He can’t believe he wore his shoes through the house and didn’t take them off when he got home, but now the memory of getting home is too hazy and he’s confused.

Seokjin reaches down and grabs the hem of his sweater, tugging it up until Namjoon lifts his arms. He pulls it over his head and tosses it onto the end of the bed. 

“Should we take his pants off too?” Jimin asks.

Namjoon feels a whine building in his chest as he begins to protest, knowing that he’ll be cold if they take all of his clothes, but his voice seems to be done and nothing comes out. 

Yoongi comes in then, holding a blister packet of medicine, a fever patch, a thermometer and a cool cloth folded over lengthwise. 

“What symptoms does he have?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon opens his mouth to reply only to realize that he’s asking Jimin and Seokjin, not him.

“He has a fever,” Jimin answers. “He’s burning up and he almost passed out when he got home!”

Suddenly, everyone is in his room, crowding around the bed as they all chime in. 

“He didn’t eat dinner last night,” Hoseok tells them.

“I was suspicious he might have a cold,” Seokjin adds. “He was sneezing last night and I suggested he take cold medicine, but I don’t think he ever did.” 

“Oh, that’s why his breathing sounded so stuffy last night,” Jungkook realizes. “I thought he felt a little warm, too. And he was really tired. He never falls asleep during movie night.”

“He looked so awful this morning,” says Taehyung. “Maybe he has the flu?”

“How did he get so bad so quickly?” Hoseok asks, frowning. 

Yoongi drags a hand down his face. “I don’t think it was very quick. I think he’s just been hiding it.”

Namjoon scoffs. The sound comes out hoarse and it makes him cough. He can’t believe they’re all standing around talking about him like he’s not there while he shivers on his bed. And he hasn’t been hiding anything. He tries to make his unhappiness known by coughing again, but then he can’t stop. 

His head is too heavy and every cough hurts as it seems to reverberate throughout his skull. After a few moments, the coughing fit gets more intense and his stomach lurches, each cough making his abdomen clench uncomfortably and his ribs ache. Suddenly, no one is talking about him anymore and everyone is listening to him cough, and Seokjin– who has always been good at anticipating things– scrambles to grab the small trash can from under Namjoon’s desk. 

He gets the trash can up to Namjoon’s face just in time for him to get sick, both hands braced on his knees as he hunches forward and half-coughs, half-vomits up the meager contents of his stomach. 

“There you go,” Seokjin whispers soothingly as it subsides, rubbing Namjoon’s back. “Better out than in, yeah? Think you’re all done?”

Namjoon’s entire body is trembling. He nods his head, and Seokjin stays for a few moments longer, rubbing his back before he stands to go clean the trash can out, Yoongi following him from the room. Hoseok takes his place, rubbing soft circles between his shoulder blades. 

When he tries to talk, nothing comes out but a raspy squeak and his throat is so inflamed it sends a sharp jolt of pain when he swallows. He looks over at Hoseok in surprise at the state of his voice, and sees Hoseok wince in sympathy. 

“Okay, obviously don’t talk. You need to rest your voice. You can text us or write it down if you need something,” he says, patting Namjoon’s pocket where his phone is.”Why don’t we get you changed into some more comfortable pants and you can lie down for a bit?”

Namjoon tries to answer, but again nothing really comes out, and he clutches at his throat when the action makes it throb with pain. He swallows gingerly and allows Hoseok to help him change into pajama pants. 

Meanwhile, the others make quick work of setting up his nightstand with an array of items; his phone, a glass of water, a box of tissues, the medicine and thermometer are all placed within reach. Namjoon gets under the covers and lets them fuss over him for a minute, squeezing his eyes shut against another wave of nausea and shivering when he feels something cool against his forehead. He cracks open one eye and is met with Yoongi’s intensely worried frown as he smoothes a fever patch over his forehead.

“Make sure you keep drinking plenty of water,” Yoongi says when he realizes Namjoon is looking at him. He straightens, reaching out to pull the covers up to Namjoon’s chin. “I’ll find you something light to eat with the medicine.” 

“Who do you want to cuddle with first?” Taehyung asks, standing next to Yoongi and helping him get comfortable under his blanket. 

The question makes Namjoon feel a pang of guilt. Now that he’s accepted that he’s well and truly sick, he realizes that there’s too much attention on him and he’s suddenly uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on him, worried about how close they all are, worried that he’ll get them all sick if they stay.

He picks up his phone with shaky hands and types out a message. 

no cuddles. germs :( 

Jungkook chuckles and starts to get into the bed. “Oh, I’m not worried about germs, hyung. I never get sick.”

“Like hell you don’t!” Jimin grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him backward. “Jungkookie, you are the only one in this room who is guaranteed to get sick.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung adds. “You’re sensitive, remember?” 

This earns an indignant squawk and a pout from Jungkook.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “You were literally just sick. Do you not remember?”

“I don’t mean sensitive in a bad way,” Taehyung amends, rubbing Jungkook’s arm. “We love that about you. But,” he says, reaching out and poking the very tip of Jungkook’s nose. “You’re the reason we have no tissues left in the entire house.”

Jungkook crosses his arms and glares at all of them. “Well then,” he says. “By that logic, if I’m already guaranteed to get sick, and I already cuddled with hyung just last night, then shouldn’t I be the only one who gets to cuddle with him today?”

With a smug expression, Jungkook climbs into the bed next to Namjoon, lifting the covers and tucking them around them both as he snuggles up to Namjoon’s chest.

“I’m so sorry you’re sick, hyung,” he whispers, rubbing Namjoon’s arm soothingly. “I hope once you take some medicine and get some rest you’ll be feeling better.”

“Okay, that’s…” Seokjin trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs, then mutters, “I guess he’s technically not wrong.”

“We’ll have to go to the store and buy a lot more tissues,” Taehyung sighs.

As Jungkook looks at him, Namjoon is hit with how young he appears sometimes– any lingering feelings of wanting to be left alone dissipates immediately because damn, why is Jungkook the sweetest thing on the entire planet?

Namjoon clears his throat loudly and blinks away the sudden tears in his eyes. He’s feeling miserable and he wants so desperately to talk, and not being able to do so is beyond frustrating. 

He reaches for his phone and types something out, even though looking at the screen is making his headache worse.

I’ll cuddle with Koo

it’s his decision about germs I guess

don’t want to eat anything right now because I might throw up again

just want to sleep

With a sigh, Seokjin looks back and forth between Namjoon and Jungkook, and then he sighs again and leans forward to press a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. 

Yoongi tips a pill into his palm from the bottle on the nightstand, extending out his hand toward Namjoon, but it’s Jungkook who takes it from him and passes it the rest of the way to the sick man.

Namjoon sighs, pops the pill into his mouth, and swallows it down with water, wincing at the raw feeling in his throat. Then, he settles back against the pillows, and Jungkook lays his head on his chest, and as everyone else turns out the lights and leaves the room Namjoon closes his eyes and tries to let himself fall asleep.

#bts sickfic #bts snz #sickfic #sick bts #fever #bts emeto #emeto #namjoon snz #sick namjoon #caretaker yoongi #caretaker taehyung #caretaker hoseok #caretaker seokjin #caretaker jimin #caretaker jungkook #bts hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

[soaps-mohawk]

Hi hi hi!

I cannot get that last scene out of my head! All I can think of is Reader finally feeling safe enough to curl up to go to sleep, and the boys naturally waking up earlier than her in the morning. When they come back from an early meeting (or what have you), she is still asleep but has stretched across all three mattresses, all of the boys’ different blankets covering her up in their scents. Simon comes in last, just in time to see her fidget and bury her face into his pillow. I need it to make his heart melt a little inside. Just a LITTLE.

Silently begging for a tiny bit of Simon to come through for her 🤭🥰 I love what you do and I can’t wait to see where this goes from here!! Sending all of my love, I just had to dig that little worm out of my brain for you ❤️

#you'll just have to wait and see what happens #answered

[lyriumsings]

every time i see an ask that says seven is mad for no reason my eye twitches DJSJ no but like even if your mc doesn’t vote agaisnt them they still get fucking fucked the fuck over. like imagine all of your closest childhood friends join a band YOU made and you’re all super close and super passionate and SUPER serious about it. One of those friends could also possibly be like the love of your life and everything is going great and you’re happy and in love and all of a sudden they all go. “you know what looking at this from a business perspective your absolute best friend since middle school/partner is basically better than you. So we want you to basically stand off to the side of the band YOU TWO created and be useless and be cool with it.” and then even if mc DOESN’T vote against them they clearly didn’t leave the band and went along with it long enough for the fallout to happen at a party and not at the exact moment iirc. Even if seven agrees to it for even a second mc should know them well enough to know that’s a goddamn lie. And if they didn’t that’s is being at best naive and at worst deliberately obtuse to think seven can or should be satisfied with backing vocals in a band they founded.

TLDR; seven got absolutely shafted by all the people they loved and trusted the most in the worst way possible and is rightfully hurt and fucking pissed off about it. they lost everything in the divorce and has to start from scratch like :/

#infamous if #not to be a seven apologist bUT I MEAN #i’m not actually mad tho im mostly kidding as we all know seven is VERY well loved #and i can’t wait to see where this goes #but i feel like some ppl don’t understand just how DEEPLY they hurt seven and fucked them over #like that’s fucking brutal so i totally understand why they’re Like That even if mc may not ‘deserve it’ #seven is FAR from completely unjustified #if you don’t know what i’m talking about go play infamous if it’s good shit #lyriumsings txt #long post #i hAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS aND CURRENTLY nO DISCORD TO POUR THEM INTO #🥺

[starry-mang0s]

The sillies!!

Just finished reading @time-woods new au chapters and I HAD to draw Sidūs and Carma’s masquerade designs.

They’re just so cute I love them so much <3

I have no idea how Time is so incredible at color palettes, outfit design, and just everything. It’s all so delicious!!! I’m just trying my best to learn from them ❤️

#fan art #digital art #chasing stars au #fiona and cake #prohibitedwish #adventure time #prismo #prismo the wishmaster #scarab the god auditor #carma #carmine #the carmine cavalier #Sidūs the Fallen star #time woods #ahhhhhhhhhh I’m going insane over this magic man and humanoid bug #I’m really exited to see where this au goes next! #especially when time is exited for it! we know it’s gonna be good I can’t wait!

[oceanautumn]

man. maybe the qsmp is funny and goofy and maybe a lot of these events are outlandish and wild but it’s so nice to just see everyone putting so much effort into this. everyone’s gone all out for the trial, they’re wearing suits irl and they made a little courthouse for the trial and they had the eggs as the jury. and maybe the whole trial was completely insane (i’m still not quite sure what happened i’ll be honest) but it was so entertaining because you can see how much heart and soul everyone’s poured into it. it’s so obvious just how much fun everyone’s having and how much they care about the story they’re making and it makes me so excited for the future. i’m so excited to see where the qsmp goes from here, and i know that no matter what direction it goes, it’s gonna be absolutely amazing. proud as hell of quackity for making something so amazing

#qsmp #quackity #i know i’ve said it a few times in this post already. but genuinely i’m so excited #qsmp was crafted with genuine care and love for the game and its players #and i absolutely love it. i can’t wait to see where it goes