#despite the pain xD

[silvercityyir]

March for Raph 2025 day 14: Disguise prompt by @yellowhollyhock

Original song|Cover

In the mood for tmnt!07. Originally this meant to be a gif but ended up as a short animatic instead. Oh how the tables have turned😅 and thinking about redoing it again with another animation software when I feel like it again hehe...

[dootznbootz]

Menelaus rambles a lot about not only Helen, but also Hermione. About how she used to say Olive like "Olifs". How she lost her first tooth running too fast and running into a low branch while out with Helen. How he'd sometimes wake up to Hermione leaning over him and poking his face to say, "Dad, can we go see the horses?" even though it was barely daylight. How she was much nicer waking Helen and how he thinks Hermione did that on purpose because she found "dad's face funny". How her favorite color was every color.

And Odysseus listens.

And he thinks about how his son only had a few teeth coming in when he left, teething on everything. How he could only say one syllable with his babbles. How his son needed balance to stand but Odysseus was so proud that Telemachus was very good at rolling over. How his son loved pulling at his and Penelope's hair.

How his son would be talking, walking, maybe even lost his first tooth by now. And he doesn't even know if he'll ever know his son's favorite color.

[amplexadversary]

Stitch from the elevator scene in episode 48 of G Gundam

The camera did not pan far enough to completely include Bolt Gundam, sadly.

[ainescribe]

Aineeeeeee you're a guili shipper/enthusiast??? bc I am SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THEM ;w;

khGFCXCVHJUHGFDCVBNJM PLS they're so angsty and i just??? eat it up????? BUT YES I HAVE A VERY SOFT SPOT FOR GUILI!!! you have no clue how excited I was to see the lantern rite cutscene because we finally had a face for guizhong.

ofc because of said cutscene, i have now opened my heart to guiping but you know what??? GUIZHONG HAS TWO HANDS, SHE CAN GET EM BOTH HAHAHAHAHA

[nicepersondisorder]

anyway since i remembered what i wanted to say. beware the rant of the (new)barista under readmore

so. we have new types of coffee in the coffee shop and some of them are straight up Weird. like who the fuck came up with americano with coconut butter. like what the fuck is that. it's called "americano bulletproof". the only thing thats bulletproof is a bulletproof guarantee that you'll end up shitting your guts out after that drink💀 or like. cappuccino snickers that tastes Nothing like snickers???? fucking peanut raf tastes more like snickers than snickers cappuccino 😭

also recently someone came in and ordered a raf Only with cream. as a cream-intolerant person that order terrified me. thankfully we're not allowed to spend so much cream so that woman just got a regular raf. get fucked lmao

and also people ask for americano with milk????? isnt the whole purpose of americano - to be on water???? like. if you wanted some milk to your espresso you couldve just ordered cappuccino or latte or even flat white if you wanted a stronger coffee taste. americano with milk is an abomination and i judge everyone who orders it. get a better taste or dont drink coffee at all (<- im becoming a coffee snob /hj)

anyway im a big fan of cappuccino with "peanut in caramel" syrup. it has a really nice smell and a pretty strong but nice&sweet taste. to me. we usually add around 25ml of syrup in the medium sized cups but i personally like to add like. 35-40 ml of peanut in caramel syrup bc i habe a sweet tooth and sometimes im too lazy to add sugar lmao. my second favorite is peanut raf. it has peanut butter in it >:D

[zae-heeyyy]

Peregrine

Summary: Arthur misses your birthday. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,124 Tags: angst, smut, high honor Arthur, oral, pnv, fingering Warnings: 18+ MDNI

an: A request fulfilment for my dear Kenny @emerald-ranch. I kinda added in the birthday thing, I hope that was alright! It became clear to me as I was writing this that I 1000% have a thing for Arthur on his knees...XD anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Peregrine: having a tendency to wander

The length of Arthur’s absences varied like the frequency of rumbles during a storm. Dark clouds hung heavy over every departure, and your tears threatened to drop like rain down a window.

“I’ll be back soon,” he always promised while kissing the top of your head and squeezing you tight. Some trips were short cracks of thunder, ending just as fast as they began; others would roll on for days, the heavy rain flooding the rushing river that was your anxiety. 

But in time, he’d arrive with blood, dirt, and sweat staining his shirt and the scar on his chin covered by his overgrown beard. Outstretched arms would warm you like the afternoon sun. You’d breathe him in, sighing contentedly despite scents of gunpowder and musk clinging to him.

This time was different.

The sun fell below the horizon for the fourth time since he’d departed. Glass bottles clinked as camp buzzed with the lively energy of celebration—a celebration for your birthday. You tried everything to enjoy yourself, forcing air through your vocal cords to mimic a laugh, stretching your lips and showing your teeth to fake a smile, all while trying not to panic.

All the possibilities of his absence spun in your brain in a demonic sacrificial waltz. Was he still alive? Did he get arrested? Was he captured by Pinkertons and tortured while the rest of you partied the night away? Or worse, was he out there, perfectly content with being away knowing you were desperately waiting? To keep yourself sane, you rationalized. He was out finding food and making money. He had mouths to feed and people to take care of. Survival was more important than a birthday.

Whether they were too drunk to notice or respectfully giving you space, nobody protested when you slipped away to Arthur’s tent for the night. Tears spilled down your face and onto his pillow as the last hours of your birthday ticked by.

The stench of dread infiltrated your dreams and ruminated even in your waking hours. Nothing you did could free you from the pain of missing him. At high noon, heavy footsteps prompted you to look up from the growing line of yarn in your lap. You’d memorized the sound of Arthur’s walk like your favorite song, yet the man standing before you felt like an imposter. He wore a familiar cattleman revolver on his hip and long silky locs of hair rested over broad shoulders like always–though more tame this time. And despite their vibrant colors, the wildflowers in his hands dulled in comparison to the bright white, freshly pressed shirt he wore.

And your heart plummeted like a stone in a lake; while you were crying yourself to sleep on your birthday, he saw to himself instead of you. Privy to your dismay, the cowboy’s features lowered into a frown. 

“Darlin,” he started, quiet and hesitant. “I–I ain’t got an excuse.”

You huffed, losing your stitch count and refusing to meet his eyes. “The king has returned.”

Leaves and twigs cracked under his uncomfortable shuffle as he faltered, “thought we could go for a ride, to–”

And you didn’t let him finish. “M’busy, Arthur.” 

Silence hung in the air while he thought of a response. “M’sorry.” He said, then continued when you didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m sorry, and that should’ve been the first thing outta my mouth.”

“Yeah, it should’ve,” you agreed grudgingly. The threads of intertwined yarn were jumbled and lopsided now, a tangled reflection of this whole week. You threw the needles and yarn down into the grass beside you and finally brought yourself to face him. He wanted to smile finally seeing you, but instead, something like a sigh of relief rolled out with his words.

“Time just…got away from me,” he admitted. “I’m a self-serving idiot bastard, and I’m just…sorry. Just lemme make it up to ya’.” 

You thought for a moment, then glanced over your shoulder at Grimshaw, trying to find an out.

” But I got chores,” you told him.   

“Don’tchu’ worry ’bout that.” He extended his free hand out to you, and dammit, yours was in it faster than you could deny yourself.  The outlaw lifted you up from your seat with one arm and locked yours and his together as he drew you away from camp. And you had to give credit where credit was due because he pulled out all the stops: a ride in a stolen stagecoach, wine, dinner, and a room. He spoiled you in the only ways he knew how, but still, you couldn’t rid yourself of the uninvited guest, unadulterated hurt, that squatted in your bones.

“How was the party?” He’d asked.

“Fine.” You replied, pushing food around on your plate.

“Charles told me the girls managed to get you a cake.”

“They did.”

And the conversation trailed off like it had so often tonight. Every time you glanced at him, the hair, and especially the shirt, hate-filled magma churned within, and you couldn’t hold it any longer, your words spewing out like lava. 

“S’a fancy shirt.” 

His chin touched his chest as he fiddled with the top button. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off for the second time tonight.

“Glad you had time to stop and pamper yourself. Nice shave, fancy hair, new shirt. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was your birthday.”

You didn’t mean to sound so crass, but now that the pot had boiled over, stopping the overflow felt damn near impossible. 

“I thought–”

“Thought?” A curt laugh halted his attempt to explain himself. “It’s hard to imagine you doing any of that.”

And he hung his head, an old dog with his tail between his legs–shameful that he’d disappointed the one he loved the most.

“And you paid for a bath too. Tell me, was it twenty-five cents or fifty?”

Your chair screeched against the floor, and you jerked back before he could answer, fleeing to anywhere but that table with him. The room key Arthur gave you in the stagecoach burned a hole in your pocket. You trotted up the stairs, searching for 2C and ignoring his calls from behind you. The least you deserved was a night behind closed doors, locked away from everything, even if it meant locking him out in the process.

Warm light burst out as you crossed into the room. Lit candles lined the fireplace mantle, their flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. A brand new day dress draped across the chair, a decorative hair comb resting atop it.

“Saw it in a window.” His words poured out smoothly like aged whisky, the sudden sound causing you to jump but prompting the skin on your arms to prick up all the same. And you were embracing each other without another thought—your fingers intertwining behind his neck, his hands settling on your hips.

“M’sorry, sweetheart. Ain’t ever gonna forgive m’self for lettin’ you down.” 

And you listened patiently while he devolved into his long-winded explanation.

“Was hoping to make a quick house call. Get in n’ out in one night, quick and easy. And I did, but some goddamn bounty hunters found my trail on the way back. Spent a day hiding out, and knew I wouldn’t make it back in time. Figured I oughta bring something nice back with me, you deserved that much.”

Your eyes drifted to the buttons of the shirt again, and he tilted your chin to look back up at him. 

“I saw the dress in a window, and let the man sell me the shirt too. Wanted to be at least a little presentable–somebody you’d wanna look at. Ain’t much I can do about my face, but...” 

Chuckling under his breath, he snaked a hand into yours and flicked your stuck-out lip. “Then I saw a sign outside the barber. Buy some pomade and get a free comb for your lady,” he touched his hair and rubbed the grease between his fingers.

“Then I got the key, laid everything out nice, stopped for some flowers, and thought I was prince charmin’ off to sweep you away to the ball–well, the room, more like.” He scratched his neck nervously and shook his head. “I thought you’d think a stagecoach fancy enough to make you forget how much I screwed up. No magic pumpkins ’round here though,” he shrugged. “Just an idiot, head-over-heels, hoping you can find it in you to forgive him.”

And frankly, you’d forgiven him the second you stepped foot into the room. Trying to fight your smile was a losing battle.

“You’re right about the idiot part.”

The gunslinger let out a breathy, almost laugh, before taking your hands in his and ushering you to the bed. Relief ran through you. After four long nights, you could finally submerge yourself in those eyes, blue and gold-like specks of sunlight reflecting on the sea.

“Please, forgive me, darlin’, I’m beggin’.”

Rough pads of his fingers traced over your knuckles as he waited patiently for your response. You crossed your legs and bounced your foot playfully. 

“I don’t know, I seen dogs beg for scraps better than that, Arthur Morgan.” 

And while your words were harsh, both of you were smiling now. He grunted, a sure sound of him swallowing his pride, then sunk to one knee, then another.

“Sweetheart,” the pet name came out thick and rich like honey, “M’sorry. Lemme fix it.”

His hands gripped both your knees, squeezing them lovingly, his touch so reassuringly familiar. He scooted in closer, guiding your legs apart and settling them on either side of his shoulders.

“I can do that thing ya’ like.” he offered, his chipped tooth smile brightening his face.

You ran one hand through his hair and brought him in by the collar with the other, pecking his lips once, then twice. On the third, you slowed down, lingering with your mouth against his, savoring the all too fleeting feeling of home. Soft giggles slipping between your lips interrupted the moment. Arthur stared up at you with nothing but devotion in his eyes, that laugh like the sweetest medicine, healing his diseased heart long riddled by self-loathing and loss. His right hand had started slow circles on your thigh, reminding you of his proposition.

“Thing I like? Don’t know what you mean, Mr. Morgan.” 

But you were shimmying yourself back onto the bed, and he was grabbing at your bloomers at the same time. He lifted his brow knowingly, and hummed a “mhm,” while you lifted your hips, helping him take the garment off and toss it to the floor.

You bunched up your skirts around your waist and looked down at your lover as he lay on his stomach between your legs. His beard grazed your inner thigh, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sighed in relief, releasing four nights of pent-up anxiety as his lips found your center.

And minutes later, just after letting you come down from the first one, he got to work on another climax, fingers pistoning steadily while he whispered all the things he loved about you in your ear. He was on his side next to you now, his own arousal nudging your thigh. The gruffness in his voice sent another surge of pleasure through you.

“You know, I never stop thinking ’bout you when I’m away.” You fluttered around his fingers, and your hips arched a little higher off the bed, “always thinkin’ ’bout you like this, all pretty and spread open for me.”

His thumb started fast circles on your clit, and you braced yourself for another tidal wave as his passionate speech continued.

“Next time y’miss me, get on that cot, spread these pretty thighs, think about what I’m doing t’ya, and use those fingers to getcherself off, can you do that for me?”

Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open, but only sounds of absolute ecstasy came out of you.

“Whatd’ya say, darlin’?”

And with that last question, the dam broke, your orgasm busting out around his fingers. Your sounds were the most divine opera, rising in pitch with every “Yes, Arthur,” as you melted. 

And he wasn’t done with you yet. Despite being miles away from camp, both of you made a home with each other. Home was the trail of raised skin that followed his touch and pairs of eyes meeting in love-filled exchanges. Home was the first few flutters of your pussy as he sheathed himself deep inside you. One night or even a week’s journey wouldn’t deter him, for he’d claw his way through the fiery depths of perdition to get back home to you.

[preciousannie]

Ateez Headcanons

Ateez as your long-term boyfriend

Genre: Fluff, Boyfriend AU!, Idol AU!

Warnings: None

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾   ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾   ‧͙⁺˚*･

Kim Hongjoong

always attentive to your emotions

dislikes PDA but showers you with affection when the both of you are alone

the two of you share every part of your daily lives together

he would get slightly jealous when you get too close to the other members

very dedicated to his work but always makes sure to spare two days in a week for “dating days”

“I’ll always have time for you babe, always.”

Park Seonghwa

he surprises you with random gifts or gestures

keeps track and remembers your period schedules

always prepared beforehand to help you soothe all your discomfort and pain as much as he can

it hurts him to see you in any sort of unpleasant emotions and he tends to match your emotions

always makes time to video call you even on late nights when he’s busy and always after concerts

“I miss you, gorgeous.”

Jeong Yunho

the two of you always do silly things together

either one of you would be cracking a joke with the other 

laughs and giggles surround your entire relationship

likes to give you piggyback rides and princess carry you just because you’re “tiny” to him

very playful when you’re around each other

but when it comes to it he can get earnest and protective about anything threatening related to you

“You okay my love?”

Kang Yeosang

the both of you have a whole facial routine that you have to follow through every night

he likes to shower together whenever he can

buys you lots of expensive beauty products that he approves of and wants you to use with him

prefers to stay at home ideally with you on his off days to spend quality time together

but he would be down in a heartbeat if you just mentioned that you want to go somewhere or want something

even if it is in the middle of the night, he’d do it

“Oh? Consider it done baby, wait for me.” 

Choi San

he unleashes his cute side whenever you’re around despite wanting to appear stoic and manly around others

follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy

likes to take you out on food dates

loves complimenting you random times a day for just about anything

you absolutely endear him when he introduces one of his plushy collections

“Look darling! This one looks just like you! It’s a cute bunny, hehe.”

Song Mingi

he enjoys taking you on random vacations and trips

has to hold your hand wherever he goes as he claims it comforts him

showers you with affection and hugs especially back-waist hugs because of your size differences

absolutely has to cuddle or spoon when in bed together whether it’s relaxing or sleeping

loves sniffing your hair or the perfume you had on that particular day because it’s calming to him

“Mm, you smell so sweet today beautiful, come closer.”

Jung Wooyoung

always showers you with kisses and pecks whenever he can

enjoys bringing you to his family home and letting you be engulfed in the affection of his family members

loves mentioning and introducing you to everyone he engages with

eager to marry you ever since the beginning and wants to have children with you

hopes that the kids the both of you will bear would resemble you the most

“Let’s make it official, shall we dear? And have adorable children together please~” 

Choi Jongho

always makes you feel safe and assured in every aspect of your life

his goofiness makes you laugh all the time even when you’re down

loves singing you to sleep while he caresses your hair 

very mature and responsible even though he is younger

likes to help you with everything he can even when you say you don’t need help

“Here, I’ll do that for you honey, don’t hurt your hands.”

Hihi, it’s been a while (3 years to be exact) but I’m back. I’ve decided to clear up these years-old drafts refining them a little so that they can finally see the light of day XD But anyway hope ya’ll enjoy! Have a beautiful day or night wherever you are <33

[keferon]

Ok i said i would do itater, but this was done for my sister who got really hurt and wanted comfort out of my drabble, shout out to you @saltynsassy31 XD

This will probably be very OOC bc again, i am NOT too acquainted with these characters

So apologies in advance, but i think this will still be very entertaining for you :]

So yeah, here's part 2!

---

Jazz was tired, they haven't given him much time to rest since he came back. And even if they did, it's not like he could rest anyways, thinking about....about Prowl.

No way he could have just left him, right? After everything....it just didn't feel right, and the way they spoke to him about it too. Call him crazy but something in his gut told him they were hiding something from him. But it just never seemed enough to push him to look into it (oh how he would regret that for the rest of his life)

Today was supposed to be a normal routine check to the new mechas, with new recruits coming in for him to teach.

Jazz was given a new mecha suit, despite his protests to it (which surprised even him honestly, but it just didn't feel right). He hadn't gotten the chance to see it yet, today was the day they would present the new model, though it was said to be in its early stages still.

...

He doesn't know how it happened, how he'd gotten here, but all he knew was that he had seen red. When he gotten to see his new mech suit, it seemed oddly familiar in touch, in fact something about it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Small dents and scarring coated the plating around the panels that opened to the cockpit. He recognised that plating, from crawling on it with his magnets, sleeping on them comfortably despite being made of metal (there was something so warm about it, but that warmth was....lost. He wanted to puke). But what broke the string holding him together, a scar, a scar so familiar it sent him back to the exact moment he witnessed his partner getting it in the first place.

Jazz had weilded that shut himself, they had gotten in a bad scuffle a while back, and with worry he wanted to try and make sure Prowl wouldn't be in too much pain before they could get some proper help.

"Jazz?" Someone called out to him. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now? Now he stood by the halls in which they didn't allow the likes of him inside, the halls in which the scientists worked on. He made a fast dash to the last room, the room one of the scientists told him had the one he was looking for (though he wasn't proud to admit he had perhaps aggressively gotten that answer out of the poor guy). He had a weird unknown blaster weapon with him that he had ripped from the mech suit he was supposed to try out (deep down, he hoped that weapon didn't belong to Prowl. He hoped that he wasn't too late), using that, he blasted the door open hoping that would keep anyone from stopping him from getting inside.

As soon as Jazz layed his eyes on the scene before him; his partner hanging from wires holding him into place, chain keeping him from leaving, mutilated almost beyong recognition save his face, and with a small weak staticked cry from his partner, "Jazz?" the small bit of awarness he had gained back was gone again. All he could do in that moment was to yell, a desperate cry that came from the pits of his lungs.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!"

And in another flurry of motions he didn’t have complete control over, he was beating the ever living hell out of the prick who decided it was a good idea to mess with HIS partner! He didn’t even know how long he had been at it until the twisted man he called a boss scratched his face, small bits of blood flowing out. In shock and pain, he grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and threw him to the otherside of the room. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to face Prowl once more, running and calling out to him as he ran to scoop up his beloved's face, blurting out a mess of an apology.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-"

Oh did the guilt eat him up from the inside, he- he shouldn't have brought him here. Prowl probably hated him right now, but the sudden distant bell of an alarm down the halls had him scrambling to his feet to try and make things right.

Suddenly, as adrenaline slowly faded off, he realised how much damage he had actually taken throughout his rampage, a limp on his left leg catching up to him. Stinging pain on his face and limbs, but he needed to keep moving, they weren't safe yet.

"I have to get you to a safe place," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "and- and then maybe call for help. Oh but who could i even go to?" As he spoke, he started to set Prowl's limbs free from it's chains, gods they were so damaged, he could barely look at the missing parts. But as he worked his way through, he let out small sighs of relief to see that at least, he seemed to not be missing some vital parts. He could still maybe make a run for it, if only he could stall the facility long enough-

"You really shouldn't have...."

Jazz turned in shock, Prowl's voice snapping him out of his panicked haze.

"Prowl..." if he wasn’t crying already, now he certainly was. Gods he fucked up badly.

Not having the courage to face the other just yet, he turned back to the chained leg he had been working on. Prowl didn't seem to have wanted an answer either way, sitting up as he watched the organic do his work (Jazz tried to ignore the missing arm).

As he finished getting rid of the chain, he got up again, letting out a hiss of pain from his injuries (which did not go unnoticed by the mech). Clutching his left side as a bleeding cut let out a terrible stinging sensation which he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, he walked over to the final limb stuck under chains. As he walked over, he briefed over the quick plan he thought of

"Look, i- i know you might not trust me right now-" a huff, almost soundling like a disbeliefing chuckle, was heard from the mech, Jazz ignored it. "But there is a place you can go to and hide, hide- hide until maybe i can get help or- or find a way to send you back-"

"You wouldn't make it that far." Prowl spoke, matter of factly, which got a hit under Jazz's skin

"I know that! Which is why you will make a run for it. There's an exit by the other side of this room where you can leave-"

A sudden realisation hit Prowl. Jazz wasn't planning on coming with him.

And the human nodded, seeming to understand that Prowl finally got what he was saying. As he reached the last final screw to Prowl's chains, he finished off what he was trying to say "I'll keep them busy long enough for you to leave," before he could finish, as the final screw was let lose and Prowl was free to move, he felt himself be lift up from the ground and let out a startled yelp. "Wha- HEY!"

It took Jazz being shoved inside Prowl's cockpit for him to realise that he had been picked up by the mech (maybe a possible concussion he thought to himself). Jazz couldn't even try to jump out as, despite it missing the plating to shut him inside, Prowl placed his servo up to close to exit.

Desperately and confused, Jazz called out, "What are you doing?!"

To be entirely honest, Prowl wasn't sure himself, he was just as confused as the human to his actions, usually so full of logic. This one was acted apon pure emotion. Emotion of fear, anxiety, anger but most importantly

Desperation

Because somehow, this stupid human had his spark between his fingers, and he'd be dammed if he let him get himself killed just for him.

This isn't how he would want to say goodbye

---

Thanks again, to my sister who pushed me to write this, and also helped out in some parts!

Might have done more if i could, but it's super late rn lol (it's 4am and our mon will kills us for staying up this late).

Again sorry for any OOC moments, but i hope this was to your enjoyment! Maybe i can do a part 3 to this, but idk enough about how things work to do that, so i let anyone be free to mess around with this :]

Oh my... oh fuck I can't. I just keep thinking about Prowl pressing his palm on his chest even when other humans eventually get to him and start shooting. He's a mess, half of his armor is missing he's probably leaving an energon trail behind him. But he knows that while it would take a lot of bullets to take him down, it would take only one lucky bullet to kill Jazz. I'm. AUGh

[iidilio]

Omg! I just read your Uchiha boyfriends and how they deal with their SO's period and I loved it! Sasuke's is hilarious!

Have you seen the video of a guy's gf teaching him and walking him through tampons via a tampon and a glass of water? That's ALL I was imagining during Sasuke's...XD

So, since that would be hilarious, could I ask for headcanons with the Uchiha bfs with that in mind? Or if that's too little context, maybe the period cramp simulators with how far they go before dropping to the floor in pain/how they treat their SO after that? I love your writing, binging all you have on Tumblr rn❤️👏🏻💙💜

[ 🌸 ] Lmaaao nonnie thanks and love u for asking this 😂😂

characters: itachi uchiha, obito uchiha, madara uchiha, sasuke uchiha, shisui uchiha

genre: fluffy with a touch of comedy

warnings: none, mentions of intimate moments, mention of tampons, menstrual cups, vaginas you know things from month to month, menstrual simulators, pranks, adult men somewhat traumatized by their girlfriends

…

Also add menstrual cups to the mix because I'm in love with them :>

oh, i think this video is the one nonnie is talking about! (It was also the first one that appeared to me 😂) ⭐️

…

…

..

.

Itachi Uchiha

— Several things will happen at the same time.

— His mind will go blank as his face turns slightly pale.

— And his eyes will open a bit as he watches the cotton transform Sailor Moon-style.

— Except there are no sparkles and cute outfits.

— No.

— Not at all.

— There is an abominable thing the size of his entire hand floating in the water.

— Itachi won't look at you the same way, especially when you're in the bedroom during one of those intimate moments.

— Even though you already told him it was just a joke, the poor man will be worried.

— He'll look at your hole wondering if it's okay inside (I promise it's okay, Itachi 💀).

— For your own good and for his... don't show him menstrual cups.

— He now knows that the tampon doesn't deform when it's inside you.

— But you have to fold a cup to put it into your tight hole and when it's inside it just... puff returns to its original shape and... are you okay…?

— No, bad idea.

— Just no.

— Don't show it to him.

— As for the menstrual cramp simulators...

— Haha

— You like to see him suffer, don't you?

— Look, pretty woman.

— There's something called being human.

— Itachi, despite being a shinobi, is human (a very cute one, by the way).

— And Itachi, like any other human, feels every sensation he experiences throughout the day. Sometimes he feels more than you, he just doesn't show it due to his perfect control over his emotions.

— But all that control goes out the window when you turn up the power on the cramp simulator.

— He stays like this: "😨," but it's so subtle you don't know if you're imagining it. Meanwhile, the poor man feels his stomach contracting with pain until his breath catches a bit.

— Itachi is a shinobi, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain.

— He's used to a different kind of pain, not this one, you know?

— Poor thing.

— He won't look at you the same way after this... probably not at any woman.

— He'll drink his "respect for women" before starting or ending the day.

— He also now has some fear of touching you; sometimes you won't feel his touch completely when you're on those days (you tried to touch him to see if he was okay and all because you saw he was a bit pale, and he looked like he wasn't breathing when the simulator was at its maximum power. Don't worry, the poor guy was just too sensitive from the pain and now he thinks you get like that too, haha).

— In general, he won't change much. Well, now he brings you more sweets whenever he can and also makes bigger portions of food.

— He's also grateful to you because you've now given him a new experience and opened his eyes to topics or situations that, as a man, he never would have thought about, haha.

…

Obito Uchiha

—If your vagina is a muscle and it stretches with a tampon, does that mean you're exercising internally? (I don't think that happens, but good shower thought, Obito!)

—Pretty boy

—At first, he's very excited when you told him you wanted to show him something.

—He's like a little kid when you want to show him something.

—Except now it looks like you just told him Santa isn't real while taking away his Christmas present.

—He'll say something like: “Wait, that thing gets like that when it's inside you 😦?” while looking at the glass in horror.

—Congratulations, girl, you traumatized an innocent man, lmao.

—No, but seriously.

—Obito will now be distrustful of tampons.

—He might calm down, but then he'll get alarmed when he watches videos or reads about “how to insert a tampon in ten easy steps without pain.”

—And he'll be traumatized again when he sees how far you have to insert the tampon.

—What do you mean the string hangs out..?

—And then you have to pull it out?! Doesn't that hurt?

—Oh, don't get me started on menstrual cups.

—Just no.

—Never show your man the cups.

—No.

—Please, no.

—Just don't.

—At least he was excited when you showed him the period cramps simulator.

—The guy smiled until you turned on the device and he was just like.

—He asked you what level it was on, and when you told him it was on eight, he just said: “What do you mean eight? How many levels does it have?”

—You swear he's going to start crying thinking about all the times he had to run an errand or was called by the Hokage and had to leave you.

—He'll apologize almost crying as you increase the level.

—You can ask him what he means, but I advise you not to.

—You'll make him cry like a baby while he clings to you and apologizes for leaving you alone so many times, making you suffer all this pain *dramatic music starts playing*.

—Lmao.

—Obito will feel proud of you for facing this kind of thing every month.

—He might now say something like: “That's it, babe, fight those cramps!” while you're curled up in bed trying not to cry from the pain.

—It's not out of bad intentions, he's just trying to cheer you up the best he can, haha.

…

Madara Uchiha

—He will stare at the glass intently and then at you.

—Please do not interrupt his thoughts.

—He is imagining how the whole process happens.

—“Are you telling me that piece of cotton…”, and he can no longer continue while looking at the floating cotton.

—Just like Itachi, he won’t look at your little hole the same way.

—He will stay thoughtful, wondering if it returns to its normal form every time.

—It might kill the moment.

—Lmao.

—He might also offer his help to put a tampon in you.

—Just tell him yes.

—You will make him feel like he’s doing something important.

—With menstrual cups… mmm.

—He will congratulate you… for some reason.

—It’s not a big achievement, Madara, but we appreciate your words.

—He will look at you a little worried and at the same time proud while you fold the cup to insert it in yourself and he just…

—“That’s my woman, you can do anything, darling.”

—Uhh… yes, well,

—We’re talking about a man who grew up in a time of war, and don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he doesn’t know where the clitoris is.

—He simply doesn’t know and has no idea that the vagina is elastic, xd.

—Please explain it to him before he brags to someone about how you can handle everything.

—As for the menstrual cramps simulator:

—He is a strong man.

—Who said it would hurt him?

—Clearly, they’re out of their minds, he is Madara Uchiha.

—At least that’s what he thinks before you turn on the device.

—And he’s simply like: “What do you mean this is how you feel every month?”

—Madara is not dumb or forgetful.

—He has seen your naked body when you’re on those days.

—And suddenly it makes sense why your belly looks slightly more swollen when you’re menstruating.

—For Madara, it hurts slightly or at least that’s what he wants to imply.

—Maybe he will never tell you it hurt, but that’s okay.

—At least he took this experience as a lesson to know what else to do and how to act during those days of the month.

—“Madara, darling… why are there many more pillows on the bed?” “They’re for you to be more comfortable.”

—Poor man.

—At least he’s trying!

…

Sasuke Uchiha

—His worst enemy has returned.

—The tampons *dramatic music plays*.

—Ok, no.

—Anyway.

—You're so cruel, girl.

—He swears he'll burn all the tampons in the world while looking at the abominable thing floating in the water.

—He's like...

—Do you put that thing inside and it enlarge…?

—On the outside, his face will remain moderately calm (I'm joking, he already looks disturbed), but on the inside, his face is like: “💀”.

—Even if you tell him it's a joke, he won't shake that image from his head.

—For a whole week, he thought your vagina was filled with tiny cotton residues for some reason.

—Until you explained that was impossible.

—(He still thinks that to this day). Anyway!

—Ehh, cups...! They're fun and comfortable things!

—Until you see them from a man's perspective and things change.

—No, please, no.

—He can't imagine a CUP inside you.

—Out of curiosity, he looked up menstrual cups on the internet and now swears he'd burn menstrual cups too if he could (cups can't hurt you, Sasuke).

—Anyway.

—As for the simulators...

—He might refuse at first until he starts thinking about how he could benefit from this (you know, new knowledge, more power).

—So he decides to put himself in his girl's shoes to see the whole picture.

—He began to regret it when you raised the intensity to seven.

—His face might turn pale when you explain that some menstrual cramps feel like labor pains.

—He'll stare at the highest intensity level wondering if he's ready for that.

—Spoiler: he wasn't.

—At least now he buys you more ice cream and makes you hot chocolate with marshmallows on top, even though he hates the smell of chocolate.

—He'll also start reading more about the female body, looking for ways and methods to make it hurt less.

—So it's likely he'll now regulate the amount of black foods and drinks you consume (you know: chocolate, coffee, cola, etc.), all because he read in a study that black-colored beverages and foods are a key factor in intensifying cramps during the period.

—Good luck with your boyfriend being more protective than ever ;)

…

Shisui Uchiha:

—"Do you want to show me something...? Sure! What is it?" he'll ask with the most innocent and soft voice, that you'll wonder if it's too cruel to play this prank on him.

—Poor guy.

—You do it anyway.

—Lmao, I think there's no emoji that describes the face he made in those moments.

—When he composes himself, he'll be torn between looking at you and the glass container.

—Because gosh.

—Does that thING really react like that when it's inside you?

—Before, he was fine with seeing you use them.

—He knows it's much more comfortable for you, but now that he sees it in the container...

—He doesn't know what to think.

—The guy is still terrified.

—Poor thing, his soul left his body and greeted God before returning to you.

—He might laugh a little when you tell him it's a joke while trying to act normal.

—But eventually his imagination will fly and he'll start thinking: "What if it gets stuck?" "What if the string breaks?" (It's impossible for that to happen, Shisui).

—Of course, he's a smart guy.

—He'll practically run to investigate more about tampons until his mind is at ease.

—But accidentally he saw menstrual cups and...

—"What do you mean cups are also inserted?" he half yelled into nothing.

—Oops.

—You'll have to explain.

—"Cups are friends, not enemies, Shisui..." "But what if it gets stuck?"

—You swear he's about to cry.

—Luckily!

—He'll get over it in a few days (it lasted a week and another while he tried to recap what happened, and the new information).

—The cramp simulator is great.

—It can last quite a while, you know, smiling and looking handsome as always, until you raise it to maximum power.

—You think you broke something when suddenly it falls and you think you killed it.

—Oh.

—Don't worry!

—He's just suffering and recapping how all of this happened, also about all the pain you go through month after month and... Oh, is that an angel...? (No, Shisui, it's your girlfriend trying to motivate you to get up).

—Well.

—At the end of the day he thinks the same as Itachi; you've shown him the other side of the coin and he's grateful for that.

—He'll also be much gentler with you during these days of the month.

—And for some reason, if he finds out that Sasuke is not in favor of tampons and cups, they may secretly start a group against those things or something similar, it's also possible that they'll drag Itachi by force.

—Lmao.

lmao, guess who search and watch videos about how to put tampons in her for the first time... and it didn't work 😭

[pineconepie]

I got many requests for this as soon as I released the Hugo writing, so consider this technically part 1 XD this shows your backstory with Hugo, and everything leading up to the first writing!

TW: Parental yandere, drugging without your knowledge, forced infantilization, mentioned murder, implied stalking

When you first started your job as a barista at the local cafe, you thought Hugo was nice. Funny, charming, charismatic... easygoing and someone who could be relied on to teach the ropes.

He had a lot of (endearingly) cheesy dad jokes prepared, got along with basically everyone, and was very open-minded in general. You felt like you could always go to him for things, judgment-free.

For a while, you felt lucky to have such a kind boss.

It started getting strange on your first month of working there.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you gasp. Beneath your feet, were broken glass pieces of the once-whole coffee mug. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone in the shop but you and Hugo, for closing time. You drop to your knees to pick everything up, too frantic to recall safety protocols.

You slice yourself on one of the larger fragments.

"Ow..." you mumble.

"Hey, hey! Let me see." Before you realize it, Hugo is kneeling beside you and clasping your hand. The cut bleeds and drips from your fingertip. "Ah, yeah, that's pretty nasty. We better patch this up." He pulls you to your feet, guiding you to the break room. "We'll fix the glass in a second, 'kay? I don't want you freaking out over it. You know how many times I've broken plates or cups in this place?" He shows off a few small, but noticeable scars on his hands.

"Okay," you relent. "Sorry again, though..."

"I said not to worry about it!" Hugo sits you down. "Sit tight, I'll be right back." He heads towards the supply closet and digs through until he pulls out a first aid kit. "See? All will be well in no time."

While you aren't upset about breaking the glass, you are a bit embarrassed by him having to tend to your wound, despite the kindness behind the gesture. It's really jut a small cut, and even though there's a decent amount of blood and it's painful, it's not like you're in critical condition.

"This is nothing," you joke nervously.

"Any injury is still something," he counters. He patches it up, making an almost soothing shushing noise whenever you hiss or whine in pain. He finishes it off with a gray bandaid, with little cartoon characters from a show you remember from your childhood. He chuckles at your confused stare. "Out of normal bandaids. Hope that doesn't offend your 'big-kid' status."

He sounds like he's joking. Something you've noticed, is he usually is.

"So I won't need any amputations, doc?" you try to play along with him.

"No, but I prescribe lots and lots of rest, and no more being around glass cups for a few days," he says sagely. "Doctor's orders."

"Glad the prognosis is looking favorable."

"It sure is! Now go home, I'll take care of everything. See you tomorrow."

Sometimes he strikes you as a bit odd, but you don't really think much of the interaction.

...

Just a few weeks later, your friend, Weston, comes to visit. His dad is a friend of Hugo's, and they've known each other since grade school.

Something you've noticed, is whenever he comes to make conversation, or even just order something, Hugo is somewhat... passive-aggressive, towards him.

Kind, yes, but oddly curt, as well. The complete opposite to what he's like with most other people, especially you. It makes you wonder why the older man seems so snippy towards someone who hasn't caused problems at all.

You take your break, sitting across from Weston. "How's it going?"

Weston smiles. "Pretty well, I got a bonus off my paycheck, which was pretty awesome." He glances over at the counter, where Hugo is serving another customer, but keeps gazing your way. His eyes narrow whenever they fall onto Weston. "Isn't Hugo kind of... weird?"

"Weird?" you echo. "In what way?"

"I dunno..." His face scrunches up slightly. "He just doesn't like me. Before, he didn't really have an issue with me. Even gave me discounts on things. But then when I mentioned that you're fun to hang around, suddenly he's... just kind of an asshole. I swear he even overcharges me sometimes."

"I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding," you say, frowning. "Hugo likes everyone, I don't know why he wouldn't like you."

Weston snorts. "Yeah? What a saint, that guy." He rolls his eyes. "There's something off about him. That's just what my instincts are telling me. I don't know, maybe they're wrong."

"I'm sure they are. Are you sure it isn't because he's also super tall, covered in scars and tattoos, has big muscles and kind of a deep voice? Honestly, if he wasn't so sweet, he'd probably intimidate me," you laugh.

"I'm not old fashioned like that, it takes a lot more than that to intimidate me..." Weston crosses his arms over his chest. "Just keep an eye out for yourself, alright?"

"I'm sure there's nothing to keep an eye out on."

How ironic that turned out to be.

...

"(Y/n)," Hugo says one morning. You look up from where you're cleaning the tables. He smiles, but it looks a little forced, like he's trying to find his words carefully. "I think you should reconsider hanging out with that Weston kid. I know his father, and I know how much trouble he can be."

You try to hide your shock. "I've known him for a year, he's never been any trouble before."

"Yes, but this is different," he tries to reason. "I can't go into detail, but he's a much worse person than he lets on. You shouldn't hang out with him."

"Why not?" you counter defensively. "If I shouldn't hang out with my friend, I'd like to know why."

Hugo purses his lips, but decides against whatever he initially wanted to say. "Just trust me, okay? Please?"

You hesitate. You don't see why Weston is such a bad influence on you. You barely even see him outside work! Does he know something you don't? "Alright," you end up saying. "I'll try not to interact with him."

He breathes out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, bud." His hand reaches out and pats your head. "I know I may just be your boss, but you're still precious to me. I just want to protect you, okay?" It's supposed to reassure you. And for now, it does. You want to believe it.

"Thanks. I care about you too, Hugo."

As you say the words, however, you catch the split second where something flashes in his eyes. Something unreadable and indecipherable. But just as soon as it comes, it disappears without a trace. "After you're done wiping those tables, you can call it quits and head home for the day."

The moment passes, and you return to cleaning the table, forgetting the unease within moments.

...

It's been a full three months since you started working at the cafe, now.

Even though Hugo still acts a little protective (bordering on possessive) for a boss, you can tell how much he genuinely cares, and therefore overlook it.

You'd like to believe it's his way of showing he sees you like family. And in truth, the company is great. He cracks jokes constantly, can converse on just about any topic, and always has advice, somehow.

Today, however, you're struggling to keep up the charade. You ended up getting a cold, and feel so groggy you nearly overslept through the alarm.

Still, the last thing you'd want to do is burden others. So, you show up regardless of how crappy you feel physically.

"(Y/n)? Are you sick?" Hugo asks, stopping mid-pour to get a closer look at you.

You're wheezing and coughing so badly you can hardly breathe. Your skin feels hot, and sweat beads down your neck. "No," you argue half-heartedly. "I just feel under the weather." Your loses color when you try to suppress a much-needed cough, only to have it wrack your entire frame violently. "It's nothing contagious, don't worry."

He looks unamused, pausing his pouring to walk up to you, placing hand on your forehead. You hadn't realized how much your head throbs until now, but the pressure eases slightly with the contact.

Hugo sighs deeply, pulling his hand away. "Okay. You're going home."

"But—"

"Nah-uh-uh!" His finger boops your nose. "I'll call someone to take our shifts."

"Our?" you ask incredulously.

"Yes, ours, you muffinhead," he grins. "I gotta take care of my favorite employee, don't I?"

You blink. "I thought I was your only employee?"

"I have other employees, for your information!"

"I never see them..."

"Well, that's because—" He pauses. "Wait! No distracting me!" You giggle. He rolls his eyes in good nature, helping you pull on your coat. "Let's hurry before that fever of yours worsens."

And that's how you find yourself curled up on his couch, while he makes soup in the kitchen. His place is quaint, but nice. The walls are beige, with wooden floors, a fireplace crackling off to the side.

Everything here is tidy. Cozy. Reminds you a bit of his personality. A dog-eared book lays on his coffee table, along with a newspaper and some coasters.

Somehow, you feel at peace here.

The door opens, revealing the taller man carrying a tray with him. On it, there's a steaming bowl, and a cup of your favorite blend of tea.

"Ah, you're awake," he notes, sounding pleased. "I wanted to make you something nice and homemade, but I don't have ingredients for the few dishes I'm good at. So, this totally-not-canned-soup will have to do." He winks, placing it beside you, then places his hand against your cheek. "Wow... after this, maybe a lukewarm bath will do."

"What do I gotta do to convince you that I'm fine?" you wheeze out.

Hugo gives you a deadpan look. "I'm so sorry for assuming you're sick judging by the obvious fever, constant coughing, and the fact you look like a zombie straight out of The Walking Dead. My greatest apologies!"

You snort, playfully swatting at him. "Jerk."

"Hmmm..." His thumb strokes against your forehead. "Yes. I'm absolutely a jerk for wanting you to get better. Absolutely, I'm one hundred percent an awful, horrible jerk." He helps you sit upright. "Now, drink the broth of the soup, and I'll draw up the water." Without waiting, he heads towards the bathroom.

Your stomach rumbles, so you listen and begin to sip at the soup. For some canned soup, it tastes really delicious. Although, admittedly, you're so starved, anything would taste phenomenal.

Slowly, you chow down on the meal, which consists of vegetables and noodles, but you're still too nauseous to properly stomach it, so you opt for mostly sipping the broth.

Hugo returns to your already devoured-soup. "Good job, you finished it. I'm so proud."

At first you think he's teasing you again, but when you look at his face, he's actually genuine. Huh. Weird. "Thank you," you say slowly, still wrapping your head around it.

He helps you upstairs and leaves you to it once inside the bathroom.

When you finish, there's a pair of pastel green pajamas left for you, exactly your size.

It's a little weird that he'd have this on him, but you're too exhausted to question it now. Putting it on, you immediately enjoy how soft the material is.

"How are we feeling now, champ?" he asks when you enter the living room again. It seems like he's already cleaned your dishes up. Oh well. He sits on the sofa reading, but puts his book aside when he spots you.

"Much better," you admit. There's a beat of silence before you decide to add, "thank you, by the way."

Hugo's eyebrows raise slightly. "Aw... you're welcome. I'm glad to help. Your work uniform is in the washing machine, by the way. Since you wore it when sick, I thought it was a good idea to clean it." He pats the spot next to him.

"Why are you doing this? I know I said I'm not contagious earlier, but there's still a chance I could be." You awkwardly sit next to him.

"I have a pretty solid immune system, thankfully, so I highly doubt I'll get anything from you," Hugo reassures. His arm wraps around you snugly. "And besides, my heart just couldn't handle imagining you being alone at home. I'm just nice like that."

"Doubtful," you tease. "I'm pretty sure you just enjoy bossing me around outside of work."

"You're still on the clock technically, buttercup, so I think you shouldn't sass your employer like that," he muses, reaching over for the remote. "TV time now. How does Looney Tunes sound? I loved that stuff as a kid. Do kids still watch that?"

"How old do you think I am?"

Hugo pretends to think about it. "Six?"

You stare blankly at him. "Are we really gonna act like you don't know my exact age and birth date?"

"I'm kidding, obviously. Goofball." He squeezes you a bit, kissing the crown of your head. "Cartoons, yes or no? Because if no to cartoons, I'm just going to choose an animal documentary."

Well, it's not like you have to pay for any streaming subscriptions or anything here... might as well abuse it. "Cartoons are fine."

"Thought so."

By now, the medicine he gave you is kicking in. The effects of the fever and illness are making you sluggish and lethargic, but definitely less than before.

Somehow, Hugo picks up on it and adjusts himself so you're both cuddled up under blankets together. One episode goes by. Then two, then three.

And soon enough, you're asleep again.

...

Not long after, when you're feeling well again, work turns back to the way it was earlier. Hugo is somehow slightly more overbearing, but not necessarily in an obnoxious way. Still, it's definitely more noticeable compared to before.

Weston still stops by the cafe regularly, but you're slightly more curt to him. You're not sure if you even believe Hugo, but you like your job, and would like to keep it.

You still hang out with Weston outside of work, since Hugo wouldn't know, but somehow, the next morning when you show up at your job, Hugo is glaring daggers at you.

"What?"

The tall man leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Did you hang out with Weston again?"

You frown. "No... but even if I did, how would you know?" Maybe lying isn't your strong-suit, at least not with the look Hugo is giving you. You've never seen him look truly angry.

So angry that there's actual fear pooling in your gut.

Hugo runs a hand through his messy hair. "You just never know when to stop, do you? How many times have I asked you not to hang out with him?"

"Hugo, come on, you can't dictate who I hang out with. I can handle myself just fine. Now please, let me just do my job. People are staring."

"Keep up with this attitude, (Y/n), and we'll have problems."

"If you're going to fire me, might as well do so. I'm close to quitting myself." You don't actually mean those words, but the way Hugo stiffens up tells you that he believes them without a shred of doubt. Suddenly, all his anger evaporates, replaced by hurt. "I'm... sorry. I didn't mean that. Let's just... get back to work. I'll make the cake batter for tomorrow, okay?"

You've never been great at smoothing things over between others, nor resolving conflict, and you suppose this time is no different. While you feel somewhat bad, you also don't like him having complete control of who you associate with.

Hell, you're still wondering how he even knew about Weston; there's no possible way for him to know unless he's following you...

You shiver at the thought.

...

Slowly but surely, your life starts tumbling downhill, outside of Hugo being passive-aggressive on the occasion.

Your power keeps going out randomly, sometimes several times a day. You keep getting sick, sometimes what feels like a small cold, other times much more, to which Hugo is always insistent on taking care of you, just as he did a few weeks ago.

One day, however, when you arrive home, you walk inside to the sound of water overflowing onto your floor.

Then, come to find out, repairing it will cost a fortune, and that's on top of needing another place to crash. You tried asking Weston, but given how strict his parents are, who he is currently living with, that isn't an option.

Which means the only option is...

"(Y/n)? Hi, kiddo, what's going on?"

You suck in a breath. "Hi, Hugo, do you have a minute?" When he confirms, you continue. "This is embarrassing to say, but recently I've had some issues with my plumbing at home. If I give you money, can I temporarily crash with you? Just until it's fixed up?"

"Well, duh! You don't need to pay me anything. You know what? How about you pack your things? We can move it all in one trip using my truck. Then I'll set up everything else for you and order us dinner."

It's strange how willing he is to take care of you like this. But at this point, you have no options.

"That sounds fantastic, thank you."

"No problem. Anything for you." He hangs up.

You exhale after putting the phone down. Something about his tone of voice sounds almost smug, but you shake it off. Still, it doesn't explain why you can't shake off the sinking feeling growing inside you.

...

Hugo sets you up with your own guest room. "If you need anything, ask me," he says. "This can be a fun experience! Don't worry about your apartment. Once we get it all fixed, you'll be able to go back to living there! But, uh... no rush on moving out," he jokes.

Except it doesn't land as a joke. There's some serious intent behind that request. That pleads with you to stay forever. It chills you to the core. Hugo, oblivious to it, keeps speaking.

"—feel free to use my shower or anything. Any food I have, you can help yourself. Make yourself at home."

"Will do. Thanks, Hugo."

"Don't sweat it."

It's almost unnerving how happy he is to have you staying with him. It reminds you of how ecstatic he was about you staying over when you got sick. He seemed genuinely saddened by you leaving to return to your place.

If you were paranoid, you'd wonder if somehow, he orchestrated these things... but that'd be insane, right? There's no possible way that he would purposely sabotage your home in hopes you'd come live with him.

That's crazy. That would never happen. It couldn't possibly happen.

There's nothing to worry about. Or so you desperately hope.

...

You feel like you're going insane. At this point, it has been over a month since you've stayed with Hugo.

And yet, none of the plumbers Hugo suggests can seem to fix the issue. Each time, it results in some excuse about not having the proper materials, or being short-staffed, or simply ghosting you altogether. None of them can seem to pinpoint the root of the problem.

"Any luck?" Hugo asks when you put your phone away. He's in the kitchen cooking while you're relaxing on his couch, watching TV.

"No. Gosh, I'm sorry, it feels like I'm intruding forever," you apologize. "I'm tempted to just look for a new place, and cut my losses..." Admittedly, the longer you've stayed, the harder it's become to live here. It's gotten worse than it was at work. Constantly keeping tabs on you, controlling who you hang out with, when you go out...

It feels so claustrophobic, like you're trapped by him. At work you can clock out, but living with him... you're literally trapped at home.

"If you want..." Hugo sets down the spoon he was cooking with, walking over to you. "You could always stay here permanently."

You stare at him.

"It's... it's not a big deal," he assures. "Think about it. You pay rent for somewhere to stay, bills, etcetera, and it adds up fast. Here? I wouldn't charge you a single thing."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "As tempting as it is... I think I'll pass. I can take care of myself, I think it'd be a little weird..."

Hugo deflates slightly, but bounces back to his normal cheerful self. "Okay! Well, whatever you want, kiddo."

But something tells you it won't be that easy to escape from him.

...

After that conversation, the sickness starts again. Except, this time, Hugo acts far stranger.

At first it's nothing concerning; taking your temperature and bringing you medicine.

It's all standard stuff. But as time progresses, and the fever refuses to leave, he insists on hand-feeding you, which makes you extremely uncomfortable, especially since he treats it all like you're some toddler incapable of doing things themselves.

Then comes the clothes.

They're all pastel colors, mainly baby blue and beige. All covered in sheep and teddy bear patterns. He's decorated your "room" without asking for your input, and once again, it's all in childish patterns and designs.

Like something a five year old would prefer. You tried telling him as much, only for him to laugh it off and keep adding more of the things.

You try not to think about it too hard, chalking it up to him having poor taste or a lack of awareness, but there's an odd suspicion lurking in the back of your mind that something is seriously wrong here.

That thought stays with you, until the next day, when you wake up early. You trudge into the kitchen, to see him hunched over, back facing you, pulling something out of the cabinet and into one of the sippy cups he insists on giving to you ("you're sick, I don't want you spilling anything!").

Something is very, very wrong.

"Hugo?"

His shoulders stiffen. Then he slowly turns around to face you. He flashes a smile. "Hey, buddy, what are you doing up so early?" He discreetly pushes the cup behind him.

You walk closer. "What are you doing?" He moves his arm to block access behind him.

"What do you mean? It's early, kiddo, you might still have a bit of a fever." He tries to rest a palm against your forehead, but you jerk away.

"Don't," you snap. "I'm not a child. Why are you acting so strange?"

A flash of irritation crosses his face, gone in seconds. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm making your breakfast! Aren't you hungry?" Again, he reaches out towards you, and when you pull away again, the irritation returns.

"What did you put in there?" you demand. "Are you poisoning me?" As soon as you speak the question, you immediately feel guilty for it.

This is Hugo. Your boss, but someone who has protected you and kept you safe and content since you started working with him years ago. There's no way he'd poison you, right? He loves you.

He loves you so much, he wouldn't hurt you, right?

"You're sick, sweetheart, still delusional from the fever, maybe." He rests the back of his palm on your forehead this time, humming contemplatively. "I can get you some ibuprofen and a cool washcloth."

"I don't want anything from you!"

He drops all the niceties, snapping at you with a scowl on his face. "You will shut up, go back upstairs, and get your ungrateful butt back into bed."

You do so, only because his clenched fists are quivering at his side.

For hours, you can't sleep. Your mind is racing too quickly, anxiety prickling along every corner of your body. The thought that Hugo is drugging you — somehow — sends nauseous waves through you.

When you can't take it any longer, you grab your backpack. It's almost sunrise when you creep down the stairs, careful to miss the ones that creak.

It's stupid, but you need to confirm your earlier suspicions. You take a hesitant detour to the kitchen cabinets, the same ones he was pulling things from earlier this morning.

Flicking on the flashlight on your phone, you wince from the bright light in comparison to the dim room.

When your eyes adjust to the glare, you shift aside boxes and containers. You find nothing concerning, except...

Your breath hitches, pulling out a small orange bottle.

Acepromazine? You pocket it, intent to search it up later, but for now you just need to get out of here.

You expect him to stop you at any second, but by some miracle, you find the front door key where he always keeps it, and slip out the door.

Never have you felt eager to pay for a hotel room.

...

The next day, your phone blows up with texts and calls from Hugo. You ignore every last one of them. But guilt begins to worm its way into your gut as you listen to the voicemail messages left from him.

"(Y/n)... where did you go? Buddy, I don't know what I did to drive you away from me, but I can promise it will never happen again. Just tell me why you ran off like that, did I scare you?"

"Hey. (Y/n), call me back, okay?"

"I know you're mad at me... I'm so sorry for scaring you earlier. Please, please come back, okay?"

"Was it because I raised my voice? I know how sensitive you are... I really shouldn't have scared you like that..."

You know you need to go back to work, tell him you're quitting, and leave it at that. You want to just ignore him altogether, but the fear he might be able to take legal action against you looms over your head.

You thought the contract was stupid, saying you had to give a two weeks notice before quitting, but you thought he just did that for practical purposes.

Did he have this entire thing planned out?

No. Maybe you're jumping to conclusions. Still, that nagging doubt doesn't fade.

You haven't even looked up what the medicine is yet. Part of you is hopeful that maybe you were just making things up in your head, and perhaps they belonged to him, and just happened to be in there... people sometimes kept their medicine in the kitchen, right?

Yet you can't deny what you saw.

He even knows where you live. He knows you first and last name, and a bunch of personal information that he could definitely use against you.

...

You give it a week of no communication. He calls and texts you too many times to count daily.

Despite your instinct to avoid Hugo, the intense fear he inspires in you makes you drag yourself back to the coffee shop. It once had cozy, warm vibes, but now it's the equivalent of hell for you.

The jingle from the bell above the door catches Hugo's attention from where he's wiping the countertop. When he notices you, he brightens.

"(Y/n)! Where have you been?" The words tumble from him. He wraps you up in a tight hug, one that used to be comforting. You can't find yourself to reciprocate, not anymore. "I've been worried sick!"

You swallow down a snide comment. It would do nothing but escalate the tension that already hangs thick in the air. "Look, I—"

"I know, you're probably still upset about that morning, huh? No worries, I got so caught up in the heat of the moment. I can be an old dummy, can't I?" He's smiling, but you can tell he's on the verge of hysteria, trying so desperately to hide it behind his grins and friendly act. "Thank God you're okay. You're okay, right? No one hurt you?" He anxiously looks you over. "Let me get you something to drink! How does—"

"No!" you cry out. Thank goodness there's no customers right now. You clear your throat at his obvious worry. "I mean... no, thank you. I came to give this to you." You hand him a sheet of paper.

Hugo laughs, not taking it. "Why don't we sit down? Most employers wouldn't allow their employees to take a whole week off. Please, just—"

"Most employers also wouldn't try to drug their employee!" you cry. Your heart is thumping rapidly within your chest.

"(Y/n), don't raise your voice at me. Can we just talk about this? This was a big misunderstanding."

"No! I know what I saw! What was even your goal?! Were you trying to kill me?!"

He freezes, hand halfway from reaching toward you again. "Kill you?" He laughs humorlessly. "Oh, baby, no. Is that what you've been thinking? No... no, no..." He shakes his head. "No wonder you were terrified! You should have communicated that to me instead of hiding away all week..."

The pet name causes your skin to crawl. "What else could you be drugging me for, then?" you whisper hoarsely. Tears are pricking the corners of your eyes.

"(Y/n), honey, please don't cry. I swear it was not my intention to hurt you," Hugo coaxes. "Just to help you."

"Is that so?" You pull out the bottle of pills. He tries to grab them from you, but you take a step back and pull out your phone, searching it in. Your worst fears are realized when the page loads and shows what it actually is. "This is for animals... you have no pets, so you can't even lie your way out of this!"

A flash of fury burns in his eyes. His shoulders square up, and he narrows his eyes. "Okay, yes. Yes. You got me there. But it's not what it looks like, I promise."

"You were dosing me! Why? Why would you do that to someone? You're sick. You need help!" you scream at him. Hot tears sting your cheeks now. This is worse than you ever imagined. "It's an animal tranquilizer! No amount of explaining could do this! Screw my two weeks notice, I don't care anymore!"

"Don't walk out this door!" Hugo shouts. "You just cannot accept the fact someone loves you, can you?! I am so sick of this back and forth, this tug-of-war you keep dragging us through. I only want what's best for you, I have given you so much, and you repay me by running away, shutting me out, screaming at me! And after all my efforts... I'd even resorted to drugging you just to spend more time with you!"

"Oh, wow, what a sweet thing of you to do!" you say sarcastically. You turn your back to him and open the door. His hand slams the door closed. "I will call the police on you if you don't move."

Hugo grits his teeth, frown deepening. He releases his grip on the door handle, and steps away.

For a moment, you hesitate. The way he's staring at you fills you with a deep sense of dread. Like maybe you're making a horrible mistake. He took you in, gave you a home to stay in when you had nowhere to go. Gave you money and necessities. Protected you from harm.

You shake away those thoughts and open the door. Before you even step one foot out, you feel something sharp plunge into your neck. Gasping, you stagger backwards, almost falling to the ground, if not for Hugo.

"I had a feeling you'd show back up," Hugo mutters. He wipes hair away from your sweaty forehead, shushing you gently as you start to panic. "No need to be scared, kiddo."

"Wh...What...?" You try to focus on his face, but your vision starts to swim in and out. Your eyelids feel heavy.

"There we go, nice and easy..." His hand cups your cheek. "You're going to feel a bit sleepy, okay?" He takes a moment to put the cap back on the needle, then pockets it, along with the syringe. He coos at your eyes fluttering shut. "I know. It's scary, but I'd never hurt you. You're just confused." He hoists you up with a grunt, carrying you outside.

"Why...?" Your throat feels dry and raw. Sleep has almost taken over.

"I love you. I love you so, so much, but sometimes you can't let people take care of you. Let people protect you." He helps you in the backseat, pausing to smile at you, pushing some bangs away from your sweaty forehead. "I know you act like you hate me, but surely deep down, you realize you need me. Why else would you willingly come back?"

"It wasn't like... that..."

"Shhhh... enough. Close your eyes now. I'll wake you up when you're safe and sound back home..."

...

When you wake up, you're still in the car, but pulled up to his house. Panic sets in, making you tug on the straps of the seatbelt, trying to undo the buckle.

"Whoa! Hold on, bud, what are you doing?" Hugo turns around in his seat, expression stricken with surprise. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet. Damnit." He tries to grab something out of his pocket, but you manage to unbuckle yourself from the seat, scrambling to the other side of the vehicle, away from him.

You reach out to the opposite door and unlock it.

Right before you can swing it open, however, it suddenly clicks and refuses to open. Child safety lock. "No... no..."

Hugo sighs and shakes his head. "You're really stressing your Papa out, you know that?" He doesn't wait for an answer as he gets out of the car and walks around to your side, opening it up. He reaches in towards you, but you flail backwards. "Easy, easy... you'll hurt yourself moving around like that. Please, listen to me."

"Why are you doing this?!" you cry. Your fingers clutch at the cushions desperately. "P...Please, Hugo, let me go... we can forget about all this and pretend like nothing happened. Please..." Sobs shake your body, and you curl into yourself pathetically. "I want to go home!"

"We are home, honey. And even then, I wanted to do this the normal way. But you didn't want that," he soothes.

"Drugging me is not the normal way!" you snap, your fear turning into fury.

He sighs, this time not bothering to reply. You scream in shock when he tries lunging for you, a new needle prepared, but you manage to slip out from the other side, ignoring the way you collapse upon landing. It doesn't matter. Getting away from Hugo does.

You scramble to your feet and begin booking it. Behind you, you can hear him calling after you.

He doesn't live close to any civilization, but you still hope that maybe someone, anyone, will come to your aid.

"Help!" you cry. Your vision swims. Everything hurts. You push through, knowing stopping means you'll be doomed forever. "Please help!"

A few more seconds of running makes you nearly faint, leaning against a tree. The bark cuts into your palms painfully. Your stomach is doing flips inside of you, twisting into painful knots.

"(Y/n)! Get back here this instant!" Hugo yells.

You force yourself to keep going. Everything seems like its closing in around you. Each inhale makes your lungs burn with effort. Where are you going?

Does it really matter? Nothing matters besides escaping this madman.

You run out onto a dirt road, not paying attention to your surroundings, not until the loud noise of an engine makes you look up.

The last thing you see is the glimpse of headlights before everything goes black.

[enha-hype]

&team - period care ♡ (hyung line)

how each member deals with/reacts to different period symptoms

pairing: bf!&team x afab!reader

genre: fluff and lots of comfort

warnings: mentions of period blood, period pain, dizziness, crying, cursing

w.c.: around 500-700 for each member

a/n: if this doesn't flop i'll post part 2 with maknae line lol. also everybody cheer i wrote something for someone other than nichojoo! xD

🪐 euijoo (crying spells)

you wake up feeling like shit and wanting to cry for no particular reason other than that you're on your period and your hormones are all over the place. added to that was the fact that the space next to you on the bed was empty – your boyfriend was already up. which isn't unusual, euijoo had always been an early bird. however, on that particular morning you couldn't help but wish he was still in bed cuddling you – maybe then you would be feeling less shitty. you feel kind of offended although you know it isn't fair – how is he supposed to know what you want if you don't tell him?

(more under the cut!)

“juju?” you call out but there's no answer – he probably couldn't hear you. you groan and steel yourself to get out of bed; it's about time anyway.

you head to the bathroom to freshen up and do your morning duties and when you emerge from the bedroom you find euijoo in the kitchen making breakfast.

“good morning my love,” he greets you with his warm smile and the sight of him immediately makes you feel a little better. “if you've brushed your teeth have this while you wait. breakfast will be ready in 10!”

‘this’ refers to a bowl of peeled pomegranates sitting on the kitchen table. you look at it and then back at him. he peeled an entire pomegranate for you despite how time consuming and troublesome it must've been. AND he's making breakfast. and most importantly, he looks so damn happy doing it. as you stare at the bowl of pomegranates, you can feel your eyes starting to water and the tears spill over soon after.

“no no baby what's wrong? do you not like pomegranates? but they're good for you – especially on your period,” euijoo is by your side in a minute brushing the tears away.

the fact that he specifically looked up what foods are good on your period only makes you more emotional and you feel guilty for feeling upset at him for not staying in bed longer. when you're finally coherent enough for him to be able to understand what you're saying amidst your sobs, he lets out a frustrated chuckle of disbelief.

“that's why you're crying? god you had me worried for a bit there,” he says, hugging you to his chest.

“you're literally the sweetest ever...what did i do to deserve you?” you mumble.

“sweetheart that was the bare minimum,”

“not to me!” you sniffle, wondering what the hell the opposite of bare minimum was. “to me that was like– like, the grand maximum!”

he giggles at that. “alright, cutie. let's get you something to eat,”

*

after a morning of crying about peeled pomegranates, then about how delicious the breakfast was and then crying about all the crying, you've finally calmed down. you're lying on euijoo's lap and he's running his fingers through your hair with one hand replying to his texts using the other.

“it's very aptly named the orange peel theory, don't you think?” you ask.

“uhh but that was a pomegranate i peeled, not an orange...”

“yes but you're an orange,” you explain like it's the most obvious thing.

he stares blankly at you. “i'm...an orange?”

“uh huh,”

he gives in because really, what choice does he have? “whatever you say my love,”

🪐 fuma (dizziness)

murata fuma is an exceptionally calm and rational man. even when things don't work out or seem to be going downhill, he never panics and instead seeks to figure out what the next plan of action should be – because really, what good would freaking out do? not a lot of things scared him either, it was like the man had no weaknesses. he is one of the most level-headed people you know, and it's no wonder that people often came to him for advice – murata fuma is an exceptionally calm and rational man. except when it comes to you.

for your date today, you're at a mini concert hall to watch this indie rock band play. fuma has been obsessed with them ever since he discovered them a few months ago and after weeks of trying you were finally able to get tickets for today. there's just one tiny problem however – you're on your period, and you don't do well in crowded spaces during this time especially if you have to stand for a long period of time, like you have been for a while now.

fuma is of course not aware of this – as far as he knows your period is not due for another week. you know that if you had told him, he would've not only made you stay home but would've stayed back himself to take care of you and you didn't want to do that to him; you knew how excited he'd been for this.

and so here you both are. you're only halfway through the concert and you're already regretting it. you've been standing for over an hour now and you badly want to – no, need to sit down. you feel kind of breathless and you're sweating but your body also feels weirdly cool at the same time. the music and the screaming around you start to sound like they're coming from far away and you sway on the spot. the last thing your eyes register before you black out is fuma’s panicked eyes.

when you come to, it takes you a minute to figure out where you are – on the couch in the waiting area outside near the receptionist’s desk. worry is etched into your boyfriend's features as he hovers over you along with two other people you don't recognise.

“oh good they're awake. yeah it looks like they just need some air,” one of them says.

fuma helps you sit up and you avoid meeting his eyes; you're mortified.

“how are you feeling?” he asks gently.

you nod and smile sheepishly. “i'm okay now, it just felt a little suffocating in there is all,”

he studies you carefully like he isn't convinced and you notice beads of sweat drying on his forehead. after fuma has thanked and bid adieu to the two strangers who had been kind enough to help your boyfriend who had apparently been running around like a headless chicken after you fainted, he comes to you and envelopes you in a hug so tight you think you might pass out again.

“please don't do that ever again oh my god i swear my heart stopped that was the most distressing 10 minutes of my life. it felt like it lasted forever,”

you chuckle weakly and pat his back comfortingly. “it's a pity i wasn't conscious to see it,”

he pulls back and gives you a stern and disappointed look. “that's not funny, y/n,”

“okay yeah i'm sorry i made you panic. i should've told you the truth, it was stupid,”

“incredibly stupid. i can't believe you thought i would care about a stupid concert more than you,”

“well no it's actually because i knew you would care more about me being okay that i didn't tell you. i wanted you to have a fun time since you've been working so hard lately,”

“any time i spend with you is fun. i don't need to go to a concert for fun,” he grumbles.

“you know what i mean though,”

he crosses his arms across his chest. “no i don't. and you know what? you've just lost walking privileges for the next two days for lying to me and then passing out,”

“i've lost wa– what? fuma don't be ridiculous,”

“it's no more ridiculous than what you just did,” he retorts obstinately.

and he was actually serious about it – he carried you bridal style to the car and then from the car to your apartment and he wouldn't even put you down inside the elevator; he waited until he got to your shared bedroom. and even though you assured him you were fine he proceeded to fuss over you for the next couple of days, not letting you step out of the house without his “supervision”.

🪐 kei (muscle pain)

it's the second day of your period and your legs are hurting more than usual because you had had to stand for hours at the conference at work earlier today. while the pain isn't exactly unbearable, it's still bad enough that sleep keeps evading you. you roll over and look at the clock on the side table – it's 12.47 am. the longer you stay awake, the less well-rested you'll be tomorrow. you have to be up in 5 hours. tears of frustration make their way down your cheeks.

not wanting to disturb your boyfriend kei who is peacefully asleep beside you, you get out of bed and make your way to the couch in the living room. you flop down and try massaging your legs, sniffling quietly.

kei stirs awake a little while later. he reaches an arm out sleepily to pull you close but when he finds the bed empty he immediately sits up.

“y/n?” he calls out, his voice thick with sleep. he walks out to the living room and sees your hunched figure on the couch and frowns. he's about to switch on the light when he hears you sniffle and freezes. he stands there for a few seconds listening to you cry, his heart slowly breaking. he wonders why you ever felt like you couldn't come to him with whatever was troubling you.

he turns on the light and makes his way to you as you quickly wipe your face and try to seem okay. he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

“what's wrong?” he asks softly.

“it's nothing. just a bit of muscle pain. i'll be fine in a while, kei. go back to bed.”

kei is not having it. he scoops you up off the couch effortlessly and carries you back to your room, ignoring your weak protests. “is it because of your period? why didn't you wake me?” he asks while he lays you down gently on the bed.

“it's really not that serious, babe. besides it's late and you have work tomorrow,”

“so? you do too. and if anything you need to sleep more than i do.”

“it's really not that big of a deal...” you start to say and kei gives you a disappointed look. he sighs and doesn't say anything further, just quietly massages your legs. but dang does the man have magic hands. his strong hands skillfully knead your leg muscles and you can feel the pain slowly fading away. you could cry tears of relief. you sigh contentedly and mumble a thank you, holding out your arms for a hug but he ignores you. “kei?”

“do you not trust me?”

the question catches you off guard. “what?”

“you never come to me when you're in pain...” he sounds so dejected.

“oh, love,” you sit up and scooch closer to him. “of course i trust you. it's just– you're always taking care everyone else and–”

“because i like taking care of the people i love. and i love you the most. but you never let me do anything for you even though you're always taking care of me and i don't know, it sometimes feels like you don't trust me enough to be vulnerable with me…” his voice cracks on the last syllable and you want to kick yourself.

you never meant to make him feel this way. he was always the one taking care of those around him so in your relationship at least you wanted him to be on the receiving end which is why you tried never to burden him with your problems, big or small. but you were so caught up in what you thought was best for him that you didn't consider how he might feel about it.

“i'm sorry, i didn't realise how that must make you feel, love. i trust you more than i trust anyone, of course you're the one i always want to run to no matter what. so from now that's what i'll do, okay?”

“you promise?”

“i do,” you seal it with a soft kiss on his pout, which makes him smile. he massages you until you fall asleep, and snuggles up next to you soon after.

🪐 nicholas (staining)

you wake up to the unmistakable feeling of blood soaking through your underwear onto your pants and you yeet yourself out of bed as fast as you can praying it hasn't gotten on the covers as well – you're at your boyfriend nicho's place.

but luck was not on your side – there's a coin-sized dark red stain on the light blue sheet. fucking great. you cannot believe this. how on earth did you manage to bleed through not one but two extra large pads?! god kill me. you make your way to the bathroom as quietly as possible so as not to wake your boyfriend – you know how much he loves to sleep and how grumpy he gets when he's woken up. granted, he doesn't mind as much when it's you but you still don't want to disturb him.

you clean yourself up, grateful you had brought an extra pair of underwear and night pants for your stay. then you wet a piece of cloth and head back, leaving the bathroom door open just a sliver so there's enough light for you to see. you lift the stained part of the sheet a little so it doesn't stain the mattress and proceed to rub the wet cloth against it so you can at least get the blood off of it – you know it'll be much harder to clean once it dries – and you can't very well strip the entire sheet off the mattress with your boyfriend still sleeping. and god, does he look so incredibly adorable.

the stain looks significantly much lighter now, and you head back to the bathroom to rinse the cloth out and apply a drop of detergent liquid to it. you glance at the clock on your way – it's 2:14 am. you groan internally. you can't even go straight to bed after this because you will also have to wash the bloody mess that's your underwear and pants. you had triple checked to make sure everything was leak-proof before bed but there's only so much you can do when your body apparently likes ejecting copious amounts of blood for no good reason. and now you're stuck dealing with the aftermath when all you really wanna do is collapse and never wake up for a week but you can't and are now questioning whether a uterus is really worth having or if you can just rip it out. you're so preoccupied thinking about all this while washing up at the bathroom sink that you don't notice nicholas standing at the bathroom door watching you until he speaks up.

“that's a lot of blood...”

you meet his alarmed eyes in the mirror. “oh shit oh fuck i'm so sorry nicho i didn't mean to wake you or for you to see this and i'm so sorry it got on the sheets as well- just a little but i'm still sorry i swear i don't–”

“hey hey hey babe shhh it's okay, stop apologising,” he places his hands on your shoulders and gently squeezes to halt your anxious rambling. you look close to tears and it breaks his heart. “why are you even apologising baby? i said that's a lot of blood in the sense that i was worried - is it normal for you to be bleeding that much?”

“well, um sometimes i guess but– wait are you sure? you're not mad?”

“why on earth would i be mad?” he looks a little hurt that you would think that.

“because i got blood on your sheets...”

“so? that can be washed,”

“i also woke you up...and you love sleep....”

he cups your face. “i love you more, dumbass. if anything i'm just mad you didn't wake me sooner - i could've helped you clean up,”

you stare at your boyfriend, taking in his bleary eyes and his hair sticking up in all directions and the earnest sincerity in what he just said. you didn't think it was possible to love him more than you already did but here you are.

divider credits: @/enchanthings-a

[shezzabee]

What are your thoughts on the idea that Inho's obsession with Gihun might do with the fact that Gihun reminds him of his dead wife?

I'm biased because I absolutely eat it up. I never been the same after seeing a post here that compared Gihun's s1 smiling photo with a photo of Inho's wife smiling.

There's also the fact that in s2 ep4, Inho called his wife stubborn, and how theres no point in arguing with her once she set her mind on something (going through her pregnancy despite her being very sick).

It made me think of Gihun's dedication of finding the Recruiter/Salesman, his insistance on being put back in the game...and him not listening to Inho when being told to get on the plane.

With this in mind, Inho's "Just get on the plane. It's for your own good." can be read more that just one man telling another man with who he shares similar trauma, to get the good life he doesn't have (but it's absolutely valid!!)

It could also be Inho (without realizing it) pleading for Gihun (his wife) to listen to him (the doctors), and (this time) survive. But just like with his wife, Gihun isn't budging with his decision. He made up his mind, go argue with a wall.

(Now it doesn't mean that Inho saw his wife in Gihun in an instance. It happens slowly as Inho gets closer to him)

Hi! Thanks for the question. I think I know the post you’re referring to—my shipper brain absolutely devoured that too, not gonna lie. XD

Even beyond the shipping lens, though, everything you’ve said really resonates. It feels like the core of their dynamic, doesn’t it? In-ho is clearly drawn to something about Gi-hun’s refusal to compromise on his principles, his unshakable belief in humanity, and his conviction that things can still turn out for the better. The only other person In-ho has explicitly mentioned as being just as stubborn as Gi-hun is his late wife, which feels like a significant parallel.

Now, of course, this is all speculation, and we won’t know In-ho’s full motivations until Season 3 (hopefully) sheds some light. But I don’t think In-ho has ever truly moved on from his wife’s death. He’s still grieving, still carrying the weight of that loss. He’s angry—angry at himself for not being there when his wife and child died, angry at the world for the circumstances that led to it, and probably angry at the Games themselves for existing. (I’ll die on the hill that In-ho hates the Games, despite being their enforcer.) He’s also angry at humanity at large for failing people in need, for letting the world get to this point.

And I think there’s a part of him that’s angry at his wife, too, (don't kill me, hear me out). She was self-sacrificing to a fault, willing to risk her own life to save their unborn child. That mirrors what we see in Gi-hun, especially at the end of Season 1. In the final game, after Sang-woo is defeated, Gi-hun refuses to abandon his morals to win, even when the easier path is right in front of him. That kind of unyielding determination, that refusal to bend—even at great personal cost—has to strike a nerve with In-ho.

Since In-ho can’t confront his late wife or tell her she was wrong to risk it all, to leave him alone, he directs all that unresolved grief and anger toward Gi-hun instead. Gi-hun becomes a constant, painful reminder of everything In-ho lost—and everything he’s come to resent about the world.

So, what does In-ho do? He sets out to break Gi-hun. To tear apart everything and everyone Gi-hun cares about until all that’s left is despair. Maybe then, In-ho can finally say: “See? There’s no point. None of it means anything. You were wrong—just like she was wrong.”

It’s a cruel and calculated move, but also deeply human. If he can prove that Gi-hun’s ideals and morals are meaningless, it would, in a twisted way, justify the choices In-ho has made and the person he’s become.

In the end, it’s not just about Gi-hun or his late wife. It’s about In-ho’s own pain, his need to make sense of the senseless, and his desperate attempt to validate the path he’s taken—even if it’s at the expense of someone who still believes in the good.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—CHAPTER TEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: ANGST

Warnings: swearing and just angst.

Notes: Yayy! An update after being gone for a month or so lmao XD but anywho, heaven and back would be updated next week, I'm still finishing the chapter up lol.

Second notes: incase if you haven't seen the Azrael fanart my friend did for me, here's the link~! And also, did you know we have a discord server? Here's the link to it:3 come and join, everyone is friendly<3 and if you're already part of the server, come and say hi too:D

Word count: 4.6k

PART ONE I PART NINE | PART ELEVEN | NAVIGATION

Michael lets out a deep exhale once he finally hears the door to [Y/n]'s room clicked as he closes it. He was beyond worried when he heard the news of what happened to her. He blamed himself for being the cause of her passing out, if only he didn't send her down there then she would've been fine.

Michael leans against [Y/n]'s door, running a hand through his soft blond locks, eyes closed as he sighs.

Unaware of the approaching dark haired taller male.

Azrael's eyebrow raised as he noticed the blond man scrunched against [Y/n]'s door, seemingly in deep thought.

Azrael heard what happened and he immediately rushed back to heaven after his work, he was worried sick for the woman.

He sighs, although he didn't show it. His charming and mischievous face remains unchanged as he approaches the door.

“Michael, didn't expect to see you today.” Azrael says, his usual teasing and sultry voice catching Michael's attention.

Michael's head raised up—previously hung low—to look at the source of the voice, only to see Azrael in his deathly glory.

“I heard what happened so I immediately came here to check up on her, especially knowing she went down there and possibly saw him.” Michael explained and Azrael fought back the urge to roll his eyes at the man.

“Still wondering why you chose her to go down there, I was willing to take the load off her shoulders.”

Michael sighs, running a hand through his light blond hair, he doesn't get paid enough for this.

“I know and I suggested it to her right? To do the rock-paper-scissors game again after she lost but she was determined to take the case and I needed to respect that, she was fully prepared to go down there.” Michael explained, exhaustion evident on his voice. He was confused too, worried even. He can only believe God's words, the man sees everything—the past, present, and future.

He can only trust his judgement despite how it pains him to see [Y/n] suffer.

Azrael sighs, stuffing both of his hands in the pocket of his pants. Decided not to further question the man and possibly aggravate both of them.

Fights between Virtues are close to non-existent, but never zero. Arguments can be dangerous for powerful heavenly beings such as themselves.

“I shall not question you further, I'll hand you my reports later this evening so for now, excuse me.” Azrael says with a sigh, walking past Michael as he knocked on [Y/n]'s door before entering.

The door closed with a click. Michael was alone in that hallway after, with a sigh and finally drooping his heavy shoulders, he walked away.

For someone to be God's right hand man, he doesn't know anything. He has no choice but to place his trust in their heavenly father.

Who is currently away to a place they don't know.

‘What a mess,’ Michael thought to himself, the worried expression on his face disappearing as it was replaced with his usual cold and aloof facial expression that he is known for, shoulders straightening up, his footsteps fading as he disappeared from the hallway.

[Y/n] was blankly staring at the ceiling as she was lying down on her bed, seemingly lost in thought.

Azrael sighs, heels clicking as he walks towards her bed, [Y/n] shifted her head to look at the sound of the noise just to see Azrael, sitting on the empty spot of the side of her bed.

She gave him a weak and tired smile.

“Are you alright? I heard what happened,” Azrael muttered, a worried look on his face, “What did I tell you about pushing yourself to the limit?”

“The audacity to say that to me with your nonexistent sleep schedule—” [Y/n] says with a teasing tone but got playfully smacked by a pillow by none other than Azrael.

“I am death, I do not need sleep.”

Azrael says with a small pout, returning back the pillow to where he got it from, crossing his arms and crossing his long and slender legs.

[Y/n] chuckled softly, moving her position to sit on the bed instead of lying down.

“I mean... You looked like death.” She says, Azrael raises his eyebrow at her.

“I don't know why but I feel offended by that statement—”

[Y/n] stares at him, almost a deadpan looking the man up and down, “Come on... You know what I mean.”

“It's the bags underneath my eyes isn't it?” he asked, deadpanning at her, “Michael has it worse, stop attacking me.”

Azrael sighs, sometimes he forgets how difficult she is.

‘Dear father, give me the strength not to end her myself. I'm just kidding, I didn't mean to say that—’

He thought to himself, letting out a long exhale as he saw the teasing grin on the girl's face.

“You're trying to distract me.” he says, eyes narrowing into a deadpan, his lips still in a pout.

“Is it working?” [Y/n] asked with a playful tone, eyebrow raised teasingly at the male.

“Unfortunately.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, long and slender fingers weaving through the dark black locks in slight frustration.

Whenever he's with her, he sighs a lot. That's something he noticed a long time ago.

The heart palpitations he gets whenever she's near might've not been because of attraction, it's probably because of stress.

She stresses him out.

Okay, just a little bit.

Azrael sighs once more, [Y/n] resisting herself to burst out into laughter, “That's the sixth time you've sighed.” She points out, Azrael deadpans at her.

“Thank you for keeping count, I really appreciate it.” He says, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“You're welcome, death.” She says, it was enough for both of them to burst into chuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock was heard from her door, catching both of them off guard.

The door opens. A long dark blue haired woman can be seen standing by the door. Her hair tied into a ponytail yet her hair still reaches her waist. A serious look on her face.

Gabriel is here.

‘Oh shit.’ Azrael thought to himself, a shiver running down his back.

The room suddenly felt colder with the woman's presence. Something that often happens whenever Gabriel is in the room.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Gabriel, known as God's messenger; she handles reports that are needed to be passed around between realms.

It is natural that the news of Raphael collapsing would immediately reach her.

She can never understand what [Y/n] sees in Lucifer, sure she can see the vision but after what happened and what he did to [Y/n].

She gets the ick.

When the meeting about Sera and Adam's actions were held and the meeting also included about this 'Hazbin Hotel proposed by none other than Lucifer's daughter.

Someone needs to oversee it.

Unfortunately, [Y/n] lost the game that decides that.

The other members thought it was a bad idea but [Y/n] insists, saying that it's fair.

She doesn't want them to baby her. She wants to prove to them that she's okay.

Gabriel was beyond worried, [Y/n] is like a little sister to her despite their ages being so close to each other.

She trusts [Y/n], she can't trust Lucifer.

She couldn't trust the man who abandoned his wife for another woman.

Especially when she learned that Lilith left Lucifer.

It made Gabriel smile when she found out.

Qui totum vult totum perdit, as she always says.

Which translates to, ‘he who wants everything, loses everything.’

Michael usually refutes it with an, ‘Omnia causa fiunt.’

Which translates to, everything happens for a reason.

She doesn't understand Michael sometimes, despite knowing the man for many eons now.

She supposed Michael has some secrets to hide as the heavenly father's right hand man.

She couldn't imagine the burden he's carrying but then again, everyone in the seven virtues has something to hide.

She hums to herself, her mind returning what she was previously thinking.

What was she talking about again?

Oh, Lucifer.

Lucifer got greedy, he lost both of his wives in the process.

What differs him from the first man then?

Nothing.

After all, he is the embodiment of the sin of pride.

He is prideful, arrogant, and greedy.

Not much of a difference between him and Adam, except for how they show their arrogance.

Lucifer became blind when given the opportunity to act upon his God forsaken dreams.

Gabriel grimaced at the thought. The very dreams that doomed humanity.

With that blindness, he lost everything in the process.

As what he deserves.

Gabriel wonders why can't [Y/n] see that a man is willing to go on his knees to worship her?

Azrael, the angel of death.

The virtue of humility. Despite Azrael's slight narcissistic personality, the man knows how to be humble.

Despite the popular belief.

The man knows how to control himself. He knows the difference between being arrogant and being proud of one's achievement.

Unlike Lucifer.

Although, Azrael is borderline to it, she won't speak about it though. Nope, nuh uh.

How funny, Lucifer the sin of pride and Azrael the virtue of humility.

Gabriel almost chuckled at the thought, ‘I supposed there are two sides of the same coin.’

With a sigh, the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors came to a halt.

She stood in the hallway of the Caeles mansion, facing the door that leads to [Y/n]'s room.

She can hear [Y/n]'s muffled behind the door, along with a familiar voice of Azrael laughing. Though, muffled.

Gabriel tilts her body slightly to the side so she can gaze outside through the many windows that are in the hallway.

Dark evening blue skies are what she can see, the sun has set a few hours ago.

She's not sure, the concept of time doesn't matter to an immortal being such as her.

She turns to face the door once more, taking a deep breath as she composes herself.

Stand straight, chest up, shoulders back. Confidence.

She knocks and opens the door.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Azrael smiled nervously at [Y/n], patting the girl's head before getting up from where he was sitting—the edge or side of [Y/n]'s bed—his heels clicked on the tiled floor as he walked.

He passes by Gabriel, patting the woman on the shoulder before exiting the room.

The door clicked as it closed. [Y/n] nervously gulped.

Gabriel sighs, finally letting herself walk towards [Y/n]'s direction.

The sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor is what [Y/n] can only hear, she plays with her thumbs nervously. Her [e/c] eyes avoiding deep dark blue ones.

“We need to talk.” She says sternly as she sits on the edge of the bed, [Y/n] sighs and nodded.

This is going to be fun. [Y/n] thought to herself, sighing mentally.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, crossing her arms as she looked at the other female.

[Y/n] chuckled nervously, “I sorta got ambushed by evil...?”

Gabriel just stared blankly at her before deadpanning, “How—”

“It just happened okay?” [Y/n] just sighs and Gabriel just inhales and then exhales loudly.

“I don't want to continue asking about that,” Gabriel says flatly, clearly lost for words.

[Y/n] just nodded before looking away to avoid the other woman's eyes.

“Why do you insist on taking this job?” Gabriel asked, her dark blue eyes sternly looking at the [h/c] haired girl.

[Y/n] looked at the other woman in the eye, faltering slightly from the sharpness or Gabriel's dark blue ones.

“Because I just want to, what more reason do you want?” [Y/n] says nervously, avoiding Gabriel's stern and judgemental gaze.

Gabriel sighs then raises an eyebrow at her, “We know you just want to see him. It's been eons, [Y/n]. Why are you still hung up on the guy? You should move on and perhaps find someone new?” she asked her and [Y/n] avoided Gabriel's gaze and turned to look at the window near her bed, watching as the clouds passed by her window.

She sighs, “I can't, I still love him, Gabriel. After all these years my heart still yearns for him, aches, and beats for him.” she whispers softly, voice shaking and vulnerable.

Gabriel sighs, “You always let your emotions get in the way, that's the problem with you [Y/n] you don't think.” she says sternly and [Y/n] remained quiet, she knows Gabriel is right but she can't help it.

“He's just a man, [y/n].”

“A failure of an angel, he brings shame to the seraphims.”

“No, he's not.” [Y/n] refutes back yet her voice lacks resolve, it was barely a whisper.

“So what are you telling me? That this is all worth it because he's the love of your life and this was the man for you” Gabriel asked, a tinge of anger in her voice, her words sending knives to [Y/n]'s heart.

Gabriel is right and she refuses to listen.

“I don't know... He might've been.” [Y/n] answers weakly, a single tear running down her left cheek.

“This is ridiculous.” Gabriel says and [Y/n] just gave a pained laugh, “I know.” she says, she knows that.

“So there's no chance of changing your mind then?” Gabriel asked, a small scoff leaving her lips, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in slight annoyance at the thought of [Y/n] going down in hell once more.

[Y/n] nodded, Gabriel sighed and stood up from where she was sitting, “You're really an idiot, [Y/n].” Gabriel says with a small sigh, a strand of dark blue hair falling on her face. She uses her finger to tuck those strands behind her ear. Her dark blue eyes analyzing the other woman—helpless, weak, an utter fool for lowering herself for a man.

One might say the standards are in hell because of how low it is.

How ironic, amusing.

[Y/n] smiled weakly, she knows. She knows she's stupid for loving a man this much.

Yet, she can't help it. She's a fool. A fool in love with the devil, who was once an angel, who was once her loving husband.

You can never really know you love someone until they've hurt you and still think of them as the best person ever.

“Yeah, I know.” [Y/n] says with a pained smile, a bitter chuckle escaping from her plump pink lips.

Gabriel stood up from where she was sitting, walking to a nearby window that's near the edge of her bed, she stared outside the glass panel, her hands behind her back.

“Does that mean you'll be going down there again?” She asked, not bothering to look at [Y/n].

“Yeah.” [Y/n] nodded, her eyes downcast as she looked defeated. She hated herself for being like this.

“I am not stopping you, you're far too stubborn to listen anyways.” Gabriel says, voice monotone and tired.

“I know.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, a meek and powerless voice. Not wanting to agree with Gabriel but the woman is right and it hurts admitting it.

“Don't say I didn't tell you so.”

Not the first time someone told her that, and it didn't end well for her.

History repeats itself.

And as usual, it's her fault for not listening.

Azrael stood behind the door, ear pressed on the wooden door, eavesdropping.

He is aware that Gabriel can be harsh sometimes and he is also curious.

Can't say what he heard didn't break his heart.

He moves away from the door and leans against the wall, his face expressionless.

He has no reason to cry about it, he knows he had no chance.

A small smile was now on his face and a single tear slid down from his left eye, leaving a wet trail on to his pale cheek.

The door suddenly opens which prompted him to quickly wipe the tear away and composed himself.

He watches as Gabriel walks out of the door and closes the door behind her.

Dark blue eyes meeting dark black ones.

Gabriel's eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw Azrael standing and leaning on the wall near the door, “I thought you left.” she says, eyebrow raised at him.

Azrael chuckled softly, his voice smooth and sweet yet had a tinge of slight bitterness.

“I was curious what you girls were talking about, curiosity kills the cat indeed.” he says with a slight humor in his voice.

Gabriel's eyes softened slightly, “Are you okay?” she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azrael shakes his head, “No, but I will be eventually.” he says with a small sigh, “Perhaps I should start moving on, besides, I'm starting to get interested in a certain someone.” he murmured, a mischievous grin on his face as remembered a certain archangel who is the acting celestial scribe to the book of life.

“Is it Michael?” she asked and Azrael gave her a disgust and flabbergasted expression, a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me?” he says, dumbfounded, “I may swing both ways but he isn't my type.” he says flatly, Gabriel gave him a side eye.

“Really? I swear both of you have this weird tension. The younglings say they 'ship' you and you two are the perfect representation of old man yaoi whatever that means.”

Azrael almost choked on air, what the fuck? Where did those angels even learn those words—

“Gabriel, what the fuck?”

Gabriel chuckles, nudging the male's shoulder, “I am just kidding.” she says with a teasing tone before humming to herself, “Metatron was it? I barely interact with them nor see them often. They're like Michael but worse, they're usually near father at all times to help him write the book of life so we barely see them in public.” she deadpans before looking at Azrael, “Since you are the angel of death, I supposed you see them often. I can just imagine you annoying them every time you're with them.” she says flatly.

Azrael chuckles, “Indeed, they're rather interesting but for now, I'll resolve my personal issues before acting upon my interest in them.”

“Good. Go to therapy.” Gabriel says, her lips pressed in a thin line as she looked at Azrael with a deadpan expression.

Azrael pouted a little.

“But I no no wanna...” he whined dramatically with a small laugh as he began to follow Gabriel as they walked away from [Y/n]'s room, the click of their heels slowly faded away as they slowly disappeared from the room.

Meanwhile,

“Dad, are you okay?” Charlie asked softly, her father staring outside his bedroom window, a lost look on his face.

Charlie was outside the door during her father and her supposed half brother arguing.

She wanted to come inside the room and try to calm both men down, but when she heard Xavier's voice as he talked to their father.

Charlie could hear eons of rage and utter pain in the boy's voice.

It stopped her from intervening, a voice in her mind kept telling her, ‘Don't. He needs this.’

Even if their father was the receiver of those harsh words.

She might not fully know nor understand the pain and suffering Xavier went but when she looked at the boy's [e/c] eyes, she was able to see utter sadness despite the blank expression on his face.

Lucifer was just blankly staring outside the window, his eyes fixated on the outside world but his mind somewhere, lost and drowning in his own self hate.

He hated it. He was not prepared. He was not prepared to see an almost exact replica of himself to arrive at his daughter's doorstep.

He was not prepared to see an exact replica of him filled with anger and sadness.

Seeing Xavier with his own two eyes, he was able to understand a bit of what the boy went through.

And he was the cause of it.

He regretted the things he has done, especially on how he treated [Y/n].

He was young—no, he was stupid. Just stupid.

Nothing can excuse his actions. He was an idiot and a fool.

[Y/n] was there for him, she was his best friend and he treated her like that.

Like a doll he discarded once he got bored.

He was wrong on how he treated her.

He should've done that, he should've loved her properly, treated her properly.

He should've been Xavier's father, the father that the boy needed and the father that the boy could trust.

Not someone he looks at with so much anger.

Terrifying, Xavier's rage reminded him of his own when he fell from grace.

Though, the reasons are highly different.

He loves [Y/n], he still does.

He realized that he still does in fact love the woman when he was separated from her for many, many years.

He would often call out to her without thinking, then remembering ‘Oh, she's not here.’

Falling from grace was enough to slap some sense into him.

He treated an amazing woman like her like garbage.

He's really an asshole.

Lilith cannot compare to [Y/n], he can't remember how many times [Y/n]'s name slips from his lips whenever he argues with Lilith.

It created distance between them.

Lilith couldn't take it anymore and left him.

He was left alone to wallow in self pity. He was left alone to mourn for the woman he left to suffer in her heartbreak which he caused.

He mourned his first love, he mourned his first son.

Which he doesn't deserve to do, considering that it should be the opposite.

To Xavier, he's a dead man. To [Y/n], he's a nobody.

Charlie watches her father with an unreadable expression on her, her hand outstretched as if to reach him but it hesitated midway. Shaking and unsure.

“Dad...?” she softly calls out again, her voice echoing despite the ringing in Lucifer's ears. His daughter's voice sounds like it's echoing in the four corners of his hotel room.

Suffocating. It felt like he was trapped in his own mind. His mistakes echoed like a siren's call to him. Teasing him.

He felt cold. He felt numb.

Snap. Everything stopped. The ringing stopped.

Though, his heart is beating erratically against his ribcage, like a monster threatening to get out of its prison.

He felt utterly numb.

His eyes are scanning his room, gentle streaks of light filtering through the glass panel of his windows giving his room a reddish like hue.

With a deep shaky sigh, he turned around and faced his daughter, his hand gripping his cane clenched ever so slightly.

“Charlie, dear... I would like to be alone at the moment.” he says, hesitantly. Voice quivering in each syllable, each word filled with the regrets of his past and present. Weighing him down.

Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly before giving her father a small reassuring smile, “Oh! Of course... Excuse me...” she says giving him a small bow before turning around on her heels to walk towards the door. She paused, took a deep breath before looking at her father through her shoulder.

“If you need me, I'll be somewhere around the hotel. I'll always be here for you, dad.” she says with a small smile before turning around once more, twisting the doorknob open and walks out of the door.

The door clicked to a close when she was gone.

Lucifer's tensed shoulders loosened as it drops, a small frown on his beautiful face.

A single tear slips past his eye, the droplet sliding down on his left cheek, leaving a trail on his soft and pale yet rosy cheek.

“I know.” he whispered before a choked sob escaped his lips.

He can feel the stinging sensation around his eyes, vision blurring as tears mess up his sense of sight.

He can feel his legs buckling as if it struggled to carry the weight of his mistakes that he's carrying on his shoulders.

It gave out as he was now on the floor, small sobs could be heard from, his sobs bouncing on the walls of his room, mocking him.

“Why am I crying? I don't deserve to cry. I don't deserve to cry after what I had done.” he says choking on his words, shoulders shaking, trembling.

He hugged himself in an attempt to comfort himself, yet he was met with painful memories of when [Y/n] used to hold him when he was crying.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he repeated to himself, rocking back and forth on where he was kneeling like a sinner.

Begging for her forgiveness, yet his repentance can't be heard from her.

‘It's all my fault, it's all my fault.’ thinking these words were like a stab to the heart because it is true.

With his last bit of energy, he lies down on the cold tiled floor. His white suit a pop of color to the redness all around him, his cheeks pressed against the tiles as tears continue to slide down on his pale skin and on to the floor.

“Over, I can't believe it's over, I can't believe the love I lived, to show some other day...” he quietly sang, his voice raspy from all the crying he shifts to let his body face the ceiling, his eyes staring blankly at the chandeliers.

“Listen, I hope that you can hear me...” he sang, propping his elbows on the floor to lift himself up into a kneeling position, his hands trembling, voice cracking with emotions, “As I kneel down and pray with the love I meant to say...” he sang softly, his voice beautiful yet filled with unexplainable regret.

“Shadows, you took away the shadows...”

“Before my life was black and white, though tonight the room's gone gray.”

She was the light of his life, his life was monotone before she came, she was a splash of color to the black and white of his so-called life.

“Golden, all the love you gave was golden,” he sang softly, [Y/n]'s bright smiling face flashes into his mind, a smile that brought so much warmth and happiness into his life, “Golden, I would gladly pay, to show the love I meant to say...”

“Oh, music you made me hear, such music,”

“Silly Lucifer, don't take our elder's words to heart! Their ancient beliefs can't possibly understand your amazing ideas!” [Y/n]'s words echo in his mind, for a brief moment, he could see [Y/n] smiling and giggling at him, her long white dress fluttering against the wind.

His eyes widened when the figment of his imagination of [Y/n] slowly fades away, his eyes widened in fear as he attempted to lift himself up from the floor, his hands outstretched in hopes of reaching her.

Only to grip on to nothing.

“Without you here to guide me, I feel as though I'll fly away...” he muttered, his voice continuing to break as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

Droplets of his tears falling into the floor, his reflection mirrored into the small puddle of his pain.

“S-sorry,” his voice breaks even more, a simple word that is too late to say, too heavy to speak with his own lips. The very words he wants to say to her.

“Sorry, that's the word I want to sing to you,”

He took a deep shaky breath, his wine red like eyes tired and dull, eyes puffy and red after all the crying he had done, “The other word is stay, to hear the love I meant to say.” he softly sang, small hiccups can be heard.

He's really an idiot.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

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[rollingeevee]

Hello!! I hope u have a nice day!! And, I have a question, I'm new here, so I don't know what beast biting is, could you tell me what it is and how it works?

Well hello there! So happy to have you! :D

Beast Bites is pretty much an AU I unintentionally made that originated from this post, which was the first CRK post I made on Tumblr!

To explain it as best I can in a single post tho, Beast Bites is a yandere Beast AU. It was semi inspired by the knowledge that beast is a synonym for predator and that, in their own right, each of the five Beast cookies is just that; a predator. When a cookie (YN / the reader in most cases for my posts) manages to catch their attention, this cookie becomes like prey. They’re observed by the Beast and sometimes challenged to test anything a Beast may desire to test. Once interest is solidified, the Beast pounces, dragging their prey off with them.

After taking you/YN, or their darling as often referred to in posts (inspired by other yandere blogs I’ve seen), the Beast delivers a bite. This is exactly as it sounds. They bite you, and this bite places a claim on you that forms a tether between you and the Beast, essentially a forced bond. This bite, for the Beast, has many uses. It allows the Beast to know where you are at all times. If you try to run, the bite causes pain, among other effects, and incapacitates you. If you accidentally wander too far, it acts as a reel and guides you back to your Beast. It notifies them of strong emotions you may be feeling, such as distress so they know if you are in danger (they don’t like the idea of you dying). The Beasts see it as a multi-purpose collar and leash, as it helps them keep you compliant and under their control.

Beasts in this AU do genuinely care for the ones they bite (only ever one at a time), but make no mistake; their main driving force towards their bitten cookie is obsession and they are typically very unhealthy in their relationships with their claimed darling, especially at the start, tho some are worse than others. It is possible for them to get better, but not to a degree that would be considered normal and healthy-

I hope this explains things well enough for you! Please feel free to send any questions you might have into my ask box! I promise I don’t bite, despite the AU I’ve created. XD

[hoodieseasoned]

my gift fooooooor shrublikeish !! for the mcytblr holiday exchange !! @mcytblrholidayexchange

it's the soup group !! having a lovely time hanging out in a.... sliiiightly wonky proportions -having gazebo/patio thingy... yeah !!

i had a looot of fun with this despite it being just ever so slightly painful too (why did i decide to draw so much environment again ? oh right it's because i love stressing out under a deadline HSJHSJSK),, gem is definitely the star of the show here for me, absolutely love how she turned out !!

in total this took me,, abt 15+ hours at least ? it's a shame i won't know for sure, bc i uhhhhh accidentally left the ibispaint canvas on on my tablet while away from the drawing... so yeh the actual file reads like, 85 hours,, YIKES HSKSKSK

here is also a lil progress video which i had to trim down a little bc of the above-mentioned unintentional procrastinating xd

the most challenging thing during this whole process was choosing which color to use for the railing in the foreground SHSJKSJD

[thesmollestsnek]

Death echoes

So a while ago, i found this dp x dc post that had a really interesting lore headcanon for Danny’s ghostly wail. Idk if I’ll be able to find it again, I’ll link it here if I do, but essentially it posited that every ghost has something called a “death echo”, which is an ability unique to them based heavily on their deaths. These echoes are the most powerful move in a ghost’s moveset, but they’re also extremely volatile and draining, typically damaging the ghost in some way when used, with Danny’s being his Wail because he died screaming. The original post then went on to some really cool halfa!Jason ideas based on these death echoes, but for this lil snippet with an extremely long intro I’d like to focus on Danny a bit more.

Edit: Apparently I may have extrapolated a lot of the actual lore behind these death echos myself? The inspiration post was a lot longer in my memories. Or I might've mushed multiple posts into one mental box and then forgot lol. So a lot of the actual detail from this point on is seemingly mostly original material? I think? Idk man, sometimes my brain spits out information without giving me any clues as to where it got that information. Anyway, this post got kinda long and since I'm... decently sure this is where I shifted from summarizing @ailithnight's post to writing all my own thoughts I figured here would be a good place to throw the cut lol.

So! with all of the context-for-the-context out of the way, let’s move on to the actual context for what I’m writing cause I can’t be bothered with writing an intro XD

Essentially, this is an au where Danny is an established member of the Justice League, or maybe one of the teen hero teams? I’m a slut for eternal teenager Danny, but maybe he’s enough of a powerhouse to be on the main team despite him both looking and acting like the dumbass fourteen year old he died as. Either way, he’s on a League/League-sanctioned mission and things go bad. Like, everyone-almost-dies bad. And so as a final desperation attack, Danny uses his Wail, a power he’s never told anyone on the league he even has. And it works, and they make it out, but after the fact everyone has. Questions. And because in this au death echoes are deeply personal, Danny dodges those questions, but the league coughbatmancough isn’t satisfied with that. So they push for answers. Answers Danny’s not willing to give, because. In my mind death echoes aren’t just based on how a person died, but also their experience of that death. What their last thoughts were. When Danny died the only thing that he could process beyond just an all-encompassing painpainpainpainpain was the sound of someone screaming. His screaming. And so his death echo is the sound of a fourteen year old child screaming in deathly pain and terror weaponized, which definitely gave the league Even More Questions than they would’ve had already. Which finally brings us to the actual snippet, which is a conversation between John Constantine, who was brought in for his experience with the supernatural once it became clear Danny wasn’t going to talk, and Danny himself. 

~~~~~~~

“So, kid. Batsy tells me you’ve been hiding some of your abilities, wanna tell me what's up with that? Call it an occultist's intuition, but somethin’ tells me you’re not just being stubborn for the hell of it.”

“It’s... complicated. And not anyone’s business, either!”

“Kid...”

“Why does it even matter?! It’s not something I want to or am even able to do on a regular basis! I saved the mission, can’t they just accept that and move on???”

Sighing, Constantine reached up to start massaging his brow. “Kid, you and I both know that ain’t gonna be enough. Now I know that some things are better left alone, but the rest of these idiots? They can’t accept that, Batsy especially. That man’s never left bloody well enough alone in his life”

He looked up just in time to see the otherworldly teen shrink into himself, looking every bit the child he was. “I know but... why? Why do they need to keep asking questions? And why do they only ask the ones that hurt to answer?”

A sharp glance. “The fuck kinda questions are they asking? Batman was speaking in more grunt than word, so I didn’t really catch all the details of what this power you’re supposedly hiding even is.”

Phantom shrinks even more into himself at that, and responds in a voice so small it’s more sigh than speech. “I... I can scream. And it breaks things and pushes people back. But it, it sounds. Bad. And it brings up bad memories and I don’t like to do it or listentoitoreventhinkaboutitandtheywon’tletmeforgetand-”

“Breathe kid. I know you don’t need to but just take a deep breath with me. Don’t you go getting lost in your own head on me now., Constantine reassured the kid automatically, the sheer hopelessness prompting action long before the words themselves could be understood. Then the rest of him caught up, and he had to pause. Looked up at the kid, saw just how distressed he was. A picture was starting to form in the back of his head, and Constantine didn’t like what he saw one bit. A last-resort power that the normally open Phantom was strangely reticent about. A scream so horrible sounding the rest of the league would not to stop asking questions about it. Terrible memories to match said scream. And one truly miserable child who couldn’t bear to even think about any of it. 

“Phantom... is that your Echo? Screaming?”

A miserable nod is his only response, the tears that had been welling up in the kid’s eyes finally starting to fall. Cursing softly to himself, Constantine stood to leave, bracing himself for the Bat’s inevitable questioning. “Well then you just take all the time you need love, and leave the rest to me. I’ll make sure the rest of those idiots know not to ask you about this ever again.”  And with that Constantine turned and strode towards the door, leaving the quietly sobbing child to collect himself in privacy.

~~~~~

I had a whole-ass lore dump conversation between Constantine and Batman planned here, explaining how death echoes are deeply personal, and asking about one is a taboo on par with, potentially even worse than, asking a ghost about their death outright. Because they are formed from an amalgamation of how a ghost died, their last thoughts, and their final emotions, in some ways asking a ghost about their Echo is like asking them to describe their death in painstaking detail. But uhhh... inspiration bug left. So yea. Side note, I’d like to apologize if my depiction of Constantine’s accent was Bad, I’m but a lowly USAmerican whose only exposure to British accents is through tv ^-^’