#icons without borders

[savemebeel]

So how are we feeling about these?? I thought I’d try something new :3

[taertglia]

𖦹

[gensokyogarden]

Happy Reimu vc: My goddess is Miss Izanami but she spends all of her time in Old Hell behind a rock

[threadus]

     ch..n..ey . . . a..nth..ny! w..keup . . . pl..sepleaseplea..beok..ay . . . st..ywi..th..m . . .

    STAY WITH IT, ANTHONY. 

    yo..ucou..ldve..k..lled..h..m! y..ouh..ve..t..h..lphimhelphimhelphimkilledhimkilledhimkilledhimkilled

    voices echoing around you. in these woods, it’s impossible to tell where they’re coming from. 

    where am i? ( you know exactly where you are. )

    YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS, Y’KNOW. SO DAMN SERIOUS.

    s..aaaaam! s..to..y..rhu..rti..n..h..im!

    you were alive, once. anxious and messy and desperate for something bigger than you to make you whole again, but god, you were completely and painfully 

    ONE OF THESE DAYS,

    alive.

    w..ke..up..ant..ho..n..y . . . p..l..e . . .

    but now, everything is so

    YOU’RE GONNA WORRY YOURSELF TO DEATH.

    cold.

    a sharp inhale as dead man walking is reanimated once more. dull eyes snap open, and anthony is greeted not by trees, but by the cracked garage ceiling. dim light filters in through the singular grimy window, casting shadows across the pathetic excuse for a ‘bedroom’. vision blurs at the edges as he sits up, a spark crawling up his spine and blooming at the base of his skull. gaze falls to the bloodied bandages on his arm, and he remembers 

breakitbreakitsmashitbreakitdownsmashitdestroydestroydestroydestroyd e s tr o yd e s trrrrrrrr

#WYRDING SAID: s ta  y  w ith  m e,  an t h on y. . . 

    nothing.

    a sharp chillllllllchillcoldcoldcoldcold as his feet hit the floor. he has half the mind to lay back down, but davey’s voice on the other side of the curtain is 

    YOU USED HIM! YOU COULD HAVE DESTROYED HIM! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER THAN THIS, SAM!

    rising steadily with his temper. when davey gets like this, you’re the only one who can get him to 

    ' STOP. '

[chronosbled]

If they had a kid meme for seiji and pixel !!

send me a ship and I’ll tell you their:

Name: Lucious

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Lucious, just like his younger twin brother, has very feminine facial features, especially when it comes down to his eyelashes and plush lips. Much like his mother, he has her reddish-pink hair and some of her orange streaks, additionally, he has a few auburn brown streaks like his father. He also possesses his father's auburn brown eyes. Both Lucious and Lucio also have their mother's slightly pointed ears.

Personality: Lucious is a very serious person who often spends most of his time locked away in his room, presumably hacking large organizations and serving as an information broker (he's not afraid to blackmail people either). He has a tendency to act rudely towards his younger brother which often makes Lucio think he dislikes him, but in reality he does so to keep Lucio out of harm's way (especially when he enters the crosshairs of someone that wants to get rid of anyone he cares about). He does have a soft spot for his brother though and it shows whenever he needs emotional comfort and support simply because of how much he reminds him of their mother.

Special Talents: Lucious is vastly intelligent because due to the fact his father is a genius and he possesses a talent for working with anything tech based because of his mother. Additionally, he excels at archery due to all the training he's received from his father.

Who they like better: Pixel. Lucious has a rather large soft spot for his mother due to how emotionally unstable she is when it comes to socializing and often does his best to soothe her worries.

Who they take after more: Lucious honestly takes more after Seiji, though only when he's under the influence of his drugs. He is visibly more hostile towards those that he deems his enemies, though he is just naturally agitated by those he doesn't know.

Personal Headcanon: Lucious is highly afraid of losing his family despite the way he acts so cruelly towards his younger twin brother and father. He knows that his family are the only people that will truly ever care for and he knows that his line of work may one day put them in danger, hence he fears that he will be the cause of their deaths one day.

Face Claim: Leon

Name: Lucio

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Lucio, just like his older twin brother, has very feminine facial features, especially when it comes down to his eyelashes and plush lips. Much like his father, he had his father's auburn brown hair, additionally, he has a few green and yellow streaks like his mother's hair. He also possesses his mother's dark purple eyes. Both Lucio and Lucious have their mother's slightly pointed ears.

Personality: Lucio is very much the complete opposite of his brother, Lucious. He is extremely shy and has a tendency to stutter or grow nervous whenever he's placed into social situations, additionally, he is not someone that actively goes out of his way to converse with those that are not his family. Lucio is what many consider a bookworm, whether it's reading fairy tales to escape the cruel reality of the word or books about technology and programming, he's interested in it all.

Special Talents: Lucio is vastly intelligent just like his father and older brother, allowing society to label them as geniuses, much to his dislike of being outed in such a way. He also possesses an outstanding understanding of technology and how it works because of his mother, often having big organizations offer him a job in programming their devices, to which he always declines. Lucio is also good at archery, but not to the extent of his father or older brother.

Who they like better: Seiji. While Lucio loves his mother as well, he generally has a hard time speaking to Pixel due to them having too similar of personalities, hence he gets along better with his father due to the fact Seiji's ADHD makes him hyper talkative, therefore making it where Lucio doesn't need to say much to hold a conversation with him.

Who they take after more: Lucio honestly takes more after Pixel, probably more than he would like actually. Not because he doesn't want to be like her, but because their shared social anxiety makes things difficult for them.

Personal Headcanon: Lucio really enjoys makeup despite most people trying to discourage this. He finds the various different products available to be very fascinating and greatly enjoys all the colors along with all the different things various combinations of makeup can create. Despite this though, Lucio does his best to hide his hobby from his family, not out of fear they would judge him, but because he's too embarrassed to admit such a thing.

Face Claim: Leon

[tuesdayscanons]

moo

{¤} The sight of a cow standing in the middle of his opulent home fills Dale with awe and confusion. It seems as though she's confused too, being far away from her herd and pastures. From the way she's raising her ears and flicking her tail, Dale figures she's feeling discomfort. As delightful as her presence is, this is no place for a cow.

Dale turns his body sideways and backs away slowly. He doesn't make eye contact, ignoring the urge to fawn over the magnificent bovine. She calms down a little, which is a good sign. He opts to stay still, allowing her to approach him on her own terms. Dale holds out his hand, to which she licks with her sandpaper-y tongue.

It's a good thing Dale found the cow. Would Dev know how to approach a cow? He's not sure his lessons from half a lifetime ago would stick in Dev's mind. It feels like a miracle Dev still has an attention span at this point. Maybe Dale should limit Dev's screen time...but Dev wouldn't be a huge fan of that.

Oh, well...Dev is still better off than most of his peers anyway. {¤}

[imflyingfish]

i gotta start editing videos so that i can be as pretentious about it as i feel i am.

[hellishseamech]

//lowkey considering to nuke this blog ngl...

[angelfate]

%58 said to accept the apology? What a shame. You're lucky, people of Tumblr are merciful today...

❝ Waaaaaaah ! ! That was so NERVE WRACKING ! ! ! ❞

❝ Hey ! ! What do you mean WHAT A SHAME ? ! ❞

[sorrysomethingwentwrong]

Kowloon City: An Illustrated Guide,

At its height in the 1990s, Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong housed about 50,000 people. Its population is unremarkable for small cities, but what set Kowloon apart from others of its size was its density. Spanning only 2.6 hectares, the tiny enclave contained 1,255,000 people per square kilometer, making it the densest city in the world.

Kowloon was built as a small military fort around the turn of the 20th century. When the Chinese and English governments abandoned it after World War II, the area attracted refugees and people in search of affordable housing. With no single architect, the urban center continued to grow as people stacked buildings on top of one another and tucked new structures in between existing ones to accommodate the growing population without expanding beyond the original fort’s border.

With only a small pocket of community space at the center, Kowloon quickly morphed into a labyrinth of shops, services, and apartments connected by narrow stairs and passageways through the buildings. Rather than navigate the city through alleys and streets, residents traversed the structures using slim corridors that always seemed to morph, an experience that caused many to refer to Kowloon as “a living organism.”

The city devolved into a slum with crime and poor living conditions and was razed in 1994. Before demolition, though, a team of Japanese researchers meticulously documented the architectural marvel, which had become a sort of cyberpunk icon that even inspired a gritty arcade as tribute.

Courtesy: Hitomi Terasawa

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

i.

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly. 

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough. 

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours. 

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters. 

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood. 

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was. 

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross. 

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt. 

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out. 

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all. 

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same. 

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines. 

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head. 

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.” 

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers. 

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door. 

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care. 

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky. 

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself. 

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be. 

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in. 

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene. 

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago. 

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned. 

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?” 

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now. 

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing. 

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?” 

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly. 

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself. 

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly. 

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity. 

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity. 

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features. 

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity. 

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script. 

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right. 

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of. 

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth. 

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch. 

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.” 

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound. 

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction. 

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides. 

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant. 

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you. 

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants. 

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes. 

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked. 

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch. 

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily. 

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan. 

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible. 

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock. 

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered. 

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding. 

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words. 

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background. 

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian. 

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure. 

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace. 

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear. 

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy. 

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind. 

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity. 

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes. 

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?” 

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly. 

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips. 

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light. 

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was. 

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly.  “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.” 

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events. 

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

[gingermaple]

i had the opportunity to create a set of app icons for @hotguycomiczine! it was a fun chance to work on my graphic design skills and i hope everyone enjoys what i came up with!!!

this set includes two versions, one with and one without white borders for maximum readability on both simple and complex backgrounds!

[ START ]

[ MERCH ] [ MISC ] (version with borders can be found below the cut!)

woah borders!!!

[omgthatdress]

U.S. Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib is sworn in wearing a Palestinian thobe.

The RISD Museum

The British Museum

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

World Central Kitchen

Doctors Without Borders

United Nations Relief and Works Agency

International Rescue Committee

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: okay NOW two more chapters left lol because chapter seven is turning into a pain to write 😭 Luckily school's out for the summer so I have more time to write :) TY @cashmoneyyysstuff MY ICON ILY Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, reader is 20 years old, reader befriends Kaminari and Sero, Reader uses "Cattus" as her alias, reader's nicknames are Cactus, Cattus and Cat, reader's down bad LMAO, war, reader gets hurt, blood, reader wears a bra, bad war descriptions lol what do you expect from me, reader is AFAB and female, bakugou finds out 😀👍, ANGST, reader goes home, family reunion, Aizawa gets sick from grief, PTSD, KATSUKI'S NOT SEXIST I PROMISE

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛ��ʀ ꜱɪx: Cattus

Time seemed to stop.  

The red color of his eyes, such a warm color, turned so cold. 

“Y-Yer a fuckin girl?!” he spat, aghast, disgust clouding his features, he turns away, refusing to look at you. 

You couldn’t even more, nor speak. 

How could you have been so careless? 

Bakugou lets out an irritated snarl and looks back at you briefly. 

“If the others find out, you’ll be killed.” he says, tone icy and filled with venom. Your heart drops.  

“I-” 

“Get changed and get out.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear what you had to say. “Now I don’t owe you anything.” 

He exits the tent swiftly, as if he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as you. 

*** 

You were given a horse, and nothing else, leaving without saying farewell to your friends. They would be informed that you had died, and that your body was being disposed of.  

It gave you an icky feeling, faking your death- which was weird, considering you left your family in a similar manner.  

As far as they knew, you might as well be dead.  

Would they be happy to see you? 

The same thought had plagued your mind for days now, yet you never imagined they would come to reality so soon. Your heart sinks with the realization that as of now, you basically let down everyone you knew.  

A tear slips down your cheek, from your discharge, and from that loathing look in Bakugou’s eyes.  

Stupid feelings.  

You knew it would end badly when you found yourself falling for the captain, but just the acknowledgment wasn’t enough to prepare you for the pain brought on by your heart being ripped in half, only for those halves to be shattered beyond repair. 

It was moronic of you to even be feeling these things, just as it was to crush on your superior like you were a schoolgirl and not a warrior.  

But at least now, you didn’t have to pretend.  

You weren’t going to lie, you were going to miss Genken, Denki, and Hanta.  

But now, you were Y/N. And though you were yourself again, there was no doubt Cattus would still be a part of you.  

He always was, you reckoned.  

Cattus was the fiery side of you that defended his (?) friends when they needed protection. He was the side of you that took charge and cared for your family when they couldn’t take care of themselves. Cattus was a warrior. 

And you were too.  

Tightening your grip on the reins, you will your horse to go faster, riding into the night, returning home to your family for the first time in months.  

*** 

You found yourself staring at the border of your village after 5 days of travel, the sun setting and your brain half asleep, running purely on adrenaline.  

It was lightly snowing, signs of winter’s presence, though the cold didn’t nip at your skin as much as it used to before. 

Pain didn’t feel the same anymore after what you’d been through.  

Your wound still stung, but you refused to acknowledge the pain- telling yourself you deserved it after everything. Is this how your dad felt after the war? You didn’t know. Though your situations were vastly different, one spending more time fighting than the other, and one almost convicted of a war crime, you knew that the pain was all the same.  

But right now, you didn’t feel pain.  

Instead, anxiety clawed at your heart, dismounting your steed to let it graze freely among the nearby fields, where other horses resided nearby. He would be fine living there with his new friends.  

You walk along the streets of the village you grew up in. You’d one been gone for 7 months now, and yet it felt so foreign to walk down the cobbled streets you walked across so long ago. When you find your home, a pang of sadness washes through you- it looked so empty and lifeless now. You missed you family dearly during the past few months, and yet you refused to acknowledge the feelings because they were a sign of weakness. 

But here you were now, a truckload of emotions crashing into you as you walk up the steps to your porch, the same steps you sat on when you had the conversation that started all of this. The wood creaked under your feet, a sound so familiar and so wrong at the same time. 

So much had changed over time- it was hard to feel like yourself again.  

You gingerly placed your hand on the doorknob, feeling the bumps, ridges and crevices you memorized, your pounding heart was deafening as you sucked in a shaky breath and finally opened the door.  

It was quiet. There wasn’t a buzz of the happiness and joy that you always felt in your home, instead it felt null and void.  

The first thing you notice is the figure sleeping on the couch.  

Hitoshi. 

Your younger brother looked exhausted, the dark circles he usually sported were now so prominent that it was unhealthy. He was skinnier, and a little taller, your heart ached to know that he wasn’t eating well and that he had grown up and you weren’t there to see him.  

Making your way over to him, you brush his hair out of his face softly, only for him to startle and jolt upright, freezing as his lavender eyes widened it realization that it was you.  

He slowly brings a hand to cup your cheek before patting the rest of your body, as if to ensure you were genuinely there.  

“Y/N...” he croaks, tears spilling from his eyes. “Is it really you...?” 

You want to sob, he sounded so broken, so helpless, guilt threatening to consume your every being. Tears slip from your eyes as you nod, letting out a choked laugh as he encircles you in his arms, whispering “You’re home... you’re finally home...” more so to himself than to you, as if to ground him. 

You and Hitoshi end up falling asleep on the floor that day, and you numbly allow him to redress your wounds and receive an ear load of yelling and scolding from your actions the next morning. He isn’t furious as you expected, however, he was extremely worried though.  

“W-What happened while I was gone...” you murmur, refusing to look at him as you sit on the side of your bed.  

“It’s...been a lot...” he sighs, telling you to get comfortable as he fills you in.  

Hitoshi had slept in the living room every night, in hopes that you would come home. At first, he slept on the porch, but Eri insisted he sleep inside saying that he was only harming himself. It was true, as he had gotten a nasty cold the next morning, leaving the ticked off 9-year-old to take care of him.  

Eri was upset with your departure, rarely going out after you left and taking up the chores you did to maintain the household, even though Hitoshi insisted he could do it. She slept in your bed every night after that and was currently sleeping as you and your brother were catching up. 

Your father, however, was a different case. He fell apart after you left, never talked, never ate – Hitoshi was terrified and had asked Hizashi for help, the usually humorous blonde now deadly serious as he and your father had gotten into a terrible argument. The only thing your brother was able to hear was “I lost my wife; I can’t lose my daughter too.” 

You sobbed uncontrollably as Hitoshi held you again, resenting yourself for the pain you caused your family, and resenting yourself for the hateful vermillion stare that you were sure would haunt you for the rest of your life.  

Though scalding tears burned through your skin, it didn’t hurt to cry as much as it used to. They didn’t feel suffocating, instead they felt liberating as you finally unloaded months of negative bottled up emotions.  

Your family was safe, thanks to you, and you were going to make sure it stayed that way.  

*** 

Eri wakes up a few hours later, her red eyes lacked their usual luster until they noticed you, the nine-year-old ran up to you and hugged you tight, her tears bleeding into your clothes.  

“Y/N...?!” she gasps in surprise, burying her face into your chest, inhaling deeply as if to memorize the way you smelled. Usually, it would have been weird, and uncomfortable considering you hadn’t showered in a week, but you allowed it, stroking her hair comfortingly, as a few more tears escape your eyes and roll down your face.  

“M’not going anywhere Banana.” you whisper, and she snorts and punches your arm weakly.  

“You know I hate that name.” 

You stayed like that for a while, before letting each other, drinking in each other’s appearance.  

“You look terrible.” she quips and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from your mouth.  

Eri and Hitoshi look at you in surprise – the you that they knew was more reserved, but they had to admit, they liked to see you let go more. You looked happier, and your joy was always contagious.  

Your siblings usher you into the washroom to finally shower, saying you smelled like shit (not really- if Hitoshi cursed in front of Eri you probably would’ve whipped out your sword) and you roll your eyes at their antics.  

You look into the cracked mirror on the way and get a good look at yourself- the first time you had to liberty to do so before you left.  

You truly didn’t look like Y/N anymore, you knew that much. But you didn’t feel like Cattus either. It was the strangest feeling, feeling like two people and neither at the same time. You sigh, dismissing it- knowing that maintaining another identity for so long would clearly have its side effects, but it was still uncomfortable to deal with.  

You were Y/N. But better. And happier with yourself.  

When you finally exit the shower, looking and feeling more like you, clean and in fresh clothes, a thought strikes you.  

“Hey... Toshi...?” You murmur, approaching the purplenette. “Where’s Dad?” 

Hitoshi looks away from you momentarily, before looking at you with sadness in his eyes. “He’s staying at Chiyo’s. Ever since you left, he hasn’t been eating well, and he’s been bedridden for a while. Hizashi says that he isn’t really stable for us to visit him.” 

You don’t listen to the last part- slipping on some random pair of shoes and bolting out of the house before heading over to Chiyo’s home.  

Your heart raced, in sync with your footsteps, one after the other.  

Your mind was even faster however- thoughts of worry and anxiety so strong you felt like you couldn’t breathe.  

Was your father okay? 

Was he mad at you? 

What if he doesn’t make it? It would be all your fault. 

As soon as your mind comes across the thought, your legs move impossibly fast, racing all the way across town until you reach the apocarthy center, also where Chiyo lived, and where she treated those in unstable conditions.  

You knock rapidly on the door, hearing a faint “I'm coming I'm coming...your generation is so energetic these days...”, the few seconds it takes Chiyo to open the door feel like a millennia each- as soon as the door opens, you see the small older lady look at you in surprise, but you pay no mind, slipping past her immediately and running down the hallway, turning the corner to find the room where Chiyo let her long term patients stay.  

And yet, you can’t bring your shaky hand to twist the doorknob and open the door. 

You feel terrible, knowing that any caring daughter should rush in immediately, but guilt wracks your mind, and your heart.  

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look down to see Chiyo looking up at you which a solemn look on her face.  

“He’ll want to see you, Y/N” she says softly, and you swallow thickly and nod.  

Twisting the knob, you finally push open the door and see your father sitting on a bed by the window. Turning his head, he sighs, “Chiyo, I told you I don-” he stops talking once he sees you. 

“Y/N.” he whispers, his voice shook and his eyes were wide.  

He was frailer than he was the last time you saw him, his skin that you always complained made him look half dead was now sallow and sickly. 

You walk over to him slowly and kneel in front of his bed, taking the man by surprise.  

“I’m sorry.” you sob, letting all the guilt and sorrow you felt wash over you. “I know I shouldn’t have left but I couldn’t just let you die.” 

You hear a small laugh and look up to see your father smiling while wiping incessant tears from his face.  

“Come, my warrior.” he says warmly. “You have made me proud.” 

*** 

It’s been a month since you returned home- news of the war spread through the village.  

You’d hear about the famed War Dragon and how he valiantly led his troop into battle, without losing a single soldier. It relieved you to hear it, knowing that Denki and Hanta were alive and well – but you still missed them.  

You reunited with Izuku and Ochako, both extremely worried but overjoyed to see you, nonetheless. Ejiro was still fighting for his country, and you missed him, worry bubbling in your stomach at the thought of getting hurt, but you trusted him. Ejiro was strong, and brave, no doubt a courageous soldier- he would come home.  

It was almost like everything was back to normal, but it wasn’t. 

You still jumped at everything, scraping a chair, someone’s limp brushing against yours, even a voice disrupting the silence, everything set you off.  

Eri was significantly more mature now, no longer the bubbly and hyper girl you knew, now more reserved and calmer. She reminded you of yourself, the knowledge was painful, but you were glad to see she retained her voracious appetite and distaste for bananas.  

Your father was recovering slowly, as you were now working overtime to stuff both him and Hitoshi with the food and nutrients, they needed to be healthy again. After you left, they deteriorated both physically and mentally, and so you decided to help them in any way you could.  

You tried your best to forget about the battle in the Chira Woods after that, but something just didn’t add up. 

How did the enemy know you were planning to ambush them? 

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

@032loe @icedemon1314 @fta1ask4 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @cuppalevi

@touyasprettydoll @slayfics @yeehawgiddyup13 @notjustanotherextra @frvv

@naoyasbby @sweetblueworm @isentsworld @bkgpackets @moonnm

@bkgrl @satoruyes @eyesforbkg @juicyfingers @aejabba

@noodleryworld @yui-aya @ashiblossom @rv19 @wheezdostuff

@yannvi @liluvtojineteyam @ah-mya @surprisemodafakas

@kksmush @sagejin @cax-per @kit-katsukii @l-bozo-l

[kthecritter]

how do you make your userboxes? i've gone looking for tutorials before but the only one i found didn't work for me .::(

I use ibis paint x to make them! I also use this template

I usually get my images from pinterest and/or google, depending on what the request is for.

let me show an example:

I get my subject and my 2 pictures. the left one is for the icon, and the right one is for the background (credit to this post for the pet dreaming flag!)

I then import the template as a new piece.

I use the selection tool to select the icon box, and then insert the icon picture I want.

for the smaller rectangle, I select that rectangle and then fill it in with whatever colour fits the userbox (you can also lower the opacity to 80-90% if you want)

I then insert the background WITHOUT selecting the background. you do not need to select the background, but you can if you want. IF YOU DO, you’ll end up with a thin white line around where the template is.

this is what the layers should look like once you’re done the designing part

now you just gotta insert the text! just go to the text option, select “add text” and put in the text you want for your userbox. you can also change the font and size if you want (highly recommend this because the default font kinda sucks and you want the text to be big enough to read). if you want to have that little white border around the letters, just go to style and change the stroke colour/thickness (the FIRST slider, not the second one!!)

and there you go! you now have your userbox! just save it, and bam! here’s the finished product of the example.

hope this helps! feel free to leave any questions below; I’m free to answer any questions if anything was confusing or unclear :3

[sharksupermacy]

expectation

expectation - chaewon x 6/7th member! reader

synopsis: you always had expectations

genre: be warned there is a kiss, angst, idk this timeline a bit weird, fluff at the end?, it's so long..., not very obvious pinning 1.9k words

money, power, and influence

3 most used words that everybody uses to describe you family. smart, blessed, and private were often the words that media would use to describe you parents. your three siblings all accomplished people in their field achieving the highest prestige of each field.

your eldest brother, a 26 year-old astronaut. he is the youngest person in asia to be sent up to space, having a masters in aeronautical engineering. before heading to space he was considered one of the best engineers making and fixing space ships.

followed by your second older brother, a 24 year-old surgeon who works with doctors without borders to help refugees in 3rd world countries to offer free health care. His public image is to seen as the perfect with his "dreamy visuals" and "charming" personality he was seen as the perfect son in law to many moms.

your older sister, a 22 year-old genius at business marketing and an well respected entrepreneur. she was dubbed with the title of "iconic", and "genius" as she made her way up the ranks of one of koreas billionaire without the help of her family money or name.

then there was you, a twenty year-old who had just finished their masters in biology engineering and a producer. but the difference between you and your sibling was that they were claimed by the 'choi' family once they had been successful. This insane drive to be able to receive validation from your parents had led down your siblings of trying to top each other.

when you had study abroad at MIT you had a chance to meet some awesome people realizing how unhealthy your family situation was you wanted to be able to pull away from it. so that's what you did, doing what your family hated the most becoming an idol. oddly enough, you were pretty competent at dancing due to your past in figure skating. passing the audition at source music and being added into a group in the works called 'le sserafim'. Getting along with the members well before the debut, filming the documentary hyping up the debut, and of course learning the choreo.

eventual, a year the time came where you were revealed to the public to as the final member of the le sserafim line up. to say your family was livid at you for becoming an idol, let alone one in a group. parents yelling at you over the phone just beside the room where the fimmies were celebrating the final member debut. multiple text flooded your phone with angry message from your siblings all but one oddly enough, your second eldest brother congratulating on your debut. those words were able to make you release the dam of tears you were holding from frustrations, wrecking every fiber of your being. you had responded with a calm text of 'thanks.'

soon falling asleep on your bed fimmies checking in on you seeing if you wanted to celebrate but was met with you sleeping. assuming that you were just tired from all the stress of debuting soon. closing the door quietly they headed over to the other dorm to celebrate.

it was a year after you debut where you had been last contacted by your family aside from your second brother. apparently, the last child of the esteemed 'choi' family not being claimed had started to make other people feel curious about the last member remaining identity. the hunt for the last child was on, each news outlets all clamoring to get any information about the last choi. searching through many choi who were extremely accomplished at anything eachtime getting repeatedly rejected. People even started claiming that they were the long lost choi. With rumors being shut down official by the statement of the family 'we will not be claiming our last child as they have done something to dishonor our family. until, she has properly return to the path that is right we will not be making any statement regarding our child.'

with that statement you had felt like all of the media eyes turned towards the celebrities because the choi family was well known to dislike the entertainment because of their cheap nature. The only people they liked in the entertainment industry was well established and talented people.

the media teared through the entertainment industry pass making sure they had fit the regulation of being born after 2000s, female, and choi as a last name. you saw as the number dwindled slowly winding down the guesses to lia (itzy) and you. Both companies were pestered to make statements regarding their artists but only jyp had made a statement denying that lia was not apart of that 'choi' family.

which had just left you, and you had not told the company about you being related to that 'choi' family. the issue had become so big that you were eventually called into a meeting with mr.bang about how to address the issue. you had came clean about being related to that 'choi' family but what you had never expect was bang si-hyuk agreeing with you to not say a word to the public business as usual they say.

now the other problem your family. All mad at you for choosing to go into a career path with fake prestige attached to it. Never caring or understanding enough to figure why you had did this. The constant insults of your members and yourself berating you from your family was slowly grinding away at your nerves.

“hey y/n? you good?” asked the korean a bit concerned as you haven’t been your usual self in the while. She dipped her tea bag in her cup wiping the tea bag at the edge of cup after she was done.

"yea," you huffed out not wanting to burden her with your family problems. the members knew aside from the youngest's that you always had family problems regarding becoming an idol but they would never understand how deep hatred ran. chaewon could never understand why you had isolated yourself, but she knew the only one you would open to would be yunjin. it was always the expectation that you would open up to her first as she was the leader, the backbone of the group. but for some odd reason you never did.

if chaewon could describe you with one word, it would be troubling. no matter what she did, even with other members help, you would never talk with her. when push came to shove, both chaewon and you kept shoving each other, always harder than the last. she couldn't put a word on you before; she always admired you from afar before debuting, noticing how you always trained constantly, always striving for perfection.

but this trait eventually became the downfall between the two of you because when you were confronted with your unhealthy training habits, you always shut her out. which had led you to almost shut her out of every aspect of your life she wanted to talk about: family, training progress, song progress, dancing, even the seemingly most random things. whenever, there was a conversation that was had between the two of you, one would always leave frustrated. she just couldn't understand your reluctance to take criticism from her, have a conversation about anything, and how you could never fit her expectations of how to take care of a member.

this led to chaewon talking the ear off of her former member and now soloist, kwon eunbi, about what to do with you. "she's just so closed off and frustrating," chaewon huffed out while punching a pillow beside her.

"have you ever considered why she wouldn't talk to you?" eunbi questioned the small figure huffing on her couch.

"no?? how am i supposed to even think about that when she doesn't even give me a chance to talk to her?" she complained as she finally stopped punching the poor pillow and laid down.

"phrase it this way. why do you have this expectation that she has to be open to you?" eunbi questioned the younger.

"when we were in iz*one, you helped everyone with their problems as a leader should. meaning ... that for me to be a good leader, i should also help the members with their problems, but she never let me do so," chaewon huffed out while hugging the pillow.

"first off, i didn't help everyone with their all problems. i allowed everyone to come to me at their own pace, never setting an expectation for anybody," eunbi explained to chaewon but was  interrupted.

"but-" chaewon said as she was about to refute each of her eunbi points but was cut off.

"doesn't mean that because you came to me with your problem, all the members did. we all have our way to cope, and it may be different from other people's, but as long as it's healthy, i see no reason why to intervene," eunbi said while sitting beside chaewon now holding her hand.

"fine, i'll let it be," chaewon huffed into the pillow while squeezing eunbi's hand.

slowly but surely, the more chaewon had backed off. the more you opened up to her, the fewer the yelling matches you both had every day, and slowly came the calm. it was odd for chaewon, she was never used to both of you coexisting peacefully, you on the other side of the kitchen buttering your toast for the morning before going to the gym. when practice came around, it took chaewon every single ounce of her being to not be critical of your every move and to allow the choreographer to point out mistakes, which allowed you to put more of a groove into the dance to fix the problem.

it was odd; it made the choreography more balanced, and you seemed happier with it and yourself. the nights where you had stayed back had lessened, and you were slowly opening up more to her, telling her about the little problems you had throughout the day. which led her to open up to you about the small problems she had throughout the day, and both of you slowly became closer to each other through the happy days.

she noticed a pattern with you. whenever you had expectations placed upon you, you always rebelled and defied those expectations. however, when you had zero expectations, you excelled and thrived in the environment.

until it was in the middle of promotion. you as a part of your family because your family had owed a favor to distract the public. the headline had said

 'the choi's family finally claims LE SSERAFIM CHOI Y/N as the last and final child. Hybe has yet to confirm the family's claim. do you think this is true?'

she noticed that you had run out of the room as soon as you saw that headline with a sick look on your face. all of your members except yunjin looked wide-eyed as her eyes darted around the room for you. chaewon slipped out of the room, walking to the washroom, where she knew where you had always gone to hide.

"it's ok." were the only consoling words. then, a minute later, she noticed that the tremors had settled down. you were looking down with your eyes red, biting the tip of your thumb. "hey," the word she mumbles up as she tilts your chin in her direction, "it's going to be okay." the next thing she knew, your lips were on hers, and she was kissing back.

you had defied every bit of her expectation.

a/n: bro i'm actually so addicted to rhythm hive its a problem. been playing super shy and unforgiven on it so much... unforgiven jp is so good stream it- (AND IT HAS ADO-)