#im curious to see if people catch it

[captainnameless]

Hi! Hope the new year is being good to you - you deserve it!

I’m here to beg for any Michael and little Sebastian thoughts/headcanons/ideas you may have. After scrolling through your blog (I love literally everything you’ve written) I’m obsessed with their dynamic. Michael really saw this feral little kid and went oh, I want that one.

the new year’s been…. alright. i had a good week last week but have been bedridden since yesterday morning because (i think) i have a nerve compressed/blocked/entrapped whatever the English term for it is in my lower back and i’ve been in a bunch of pain :/ i’m stubborn though and waiting to call until Monday bc i don’t wanna call for an emergency which is what you have to do here if it’s the weekend. we’ll see. i had this back in 2020 and was bedridden for 2 months 😀 🔫 i’ll cry if that happens again. ANYWAY.

Michael & Seb thoughts !!!! (also i loved the ‘oh i want that one’ made me chuckle)

They’re in Japan, Sebastian’s just become the youngest GP winner 2 races back and it’s been a little bit of a whirlwind. There’s been a change in his media attention and despite Michael not being on the grid, he loves Japan, and Sebastian, so the invite was easily accepted.

“Sebastian.” Michael says, unimpressed with the younger’s outfit. “It’s cold outside, you need at least a jacket if you insist on wearing the T-shirt.”

Sebastian frowns looking down at his own shirt. “This was fine in Singapore.”

“Well, we’re not in Singapore, are we?” Michael replies, sat on the foot of the bed, dressed and ready to go in appropriate wear.

Sebastian pushes himself up from where he was sat on the floor, leaving the jacket and the hoodie that Michael had laid out for him moving towards the door of his hotel room. “I’m fine.”

“We’re not going outside without the jacket, Seb.”

“Are too!”

Michael sighs, already regretting not pushing for a nap before they went out to explore. “Your choice Seb, you know the deal.”

Sebastian whines and stomps his foot down, disgruntled frown edged onto his face. “I’m going without you.” He says, opening the door.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “You go out that door without your jacket and I’ll chase you down and then we’re not going at all.”

Sebastian gawks at him, eyes scanning his face for a bluff. “No you won’t.” He pouts, opening the door further, kicking the discarded jacket on the floor away from him for good measure.

“Sebastian.” Michael warns, already standing up.

“No!” Sebastian whines, body already half way out the door, giving Michael one last look before he’s booked it out of there.

Michael groans, trying to prevent a driver getting sick before the end of the season really shouldn’t be this much of a struggle. He’s up already so charges after Sebastian anyway, who’s already down the hall, a fast little brat off and on track.

But Michael’s been keeping fit despite his retirement, catches up quickly enough when Sebastian makes the mistake of waiting for the elevator, a quick end to their little chase.

“Nooo!” Sebastian whines, batting at Michael as he stalks closer, defiance clear on his face, a little glimmer of amusement shining in his eyes. Sebastian’s always liked a game.

Michael wastes no time snatching Sebastian’s wrist towards him, the momentum stumbling the younger forward enough for Michael to bend down just enough to fling Sebastian over his shoulder.

Sebastian responds by pounding his fists onto Michael’s back, something he stops immediately when Michael sends a sharp swat to the back of his thigh. “You stop that.”

“You’re being mean to me!” Sebastian whines, wriggling about.

“I’m the worst.” Michael agrees, making quick work of walking back to Sebastian’s hotel room, kicking the door shut with a bang before dropping Sebastian onto the bed. “And you’re being naughty, which tells me you need a nap.”

Sebastian squeaks as he disappears into the soft white comforter, trashing about at the mention of a nap.

“No nap!” He whines, trying to tug his ankle free out of Michael’s grasp, who’s already taking off his shoes. “I wanna go! I want my jacket.”

“Too late, buddy.” Michael says gently, getting off Sebastian’s other shoe despite the kicking.

It prompts a meltdown, which Michael saw coming anyway, and would’ve preferred to have in the privacy of their hotel room instead of in the public Japanese streets.

“I know,” Michael says, discarding his own shoes and jacket before climbing onto the bed and struggling to gather a visibly and audibly upset Sebastian. “Shh.” He soothes, tugging Sebastian close against his chest and wrapping him up tight. “You’re okay.”

“I wanna go!” Sebastian just cries, surrendering into the strong hold, dropping his head against Michael’s chest.

It earns him a couple soft kisses and the duvet covering them both. “I know, liebling. I promise we can try again after you’ve had a nap.”

There’s a miserable whine that leaves Sebastian, but it seems to settle him nonetheless, one of his hands coming up to rub at his eyes.

Michael cards his hands through the messy blonde hair. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

[talon-dragonbeast]

okay, ive seen way too many posts on the community tags talking about the tiktok ban and saying stuff like "i hope tiktok therians dont come in here theyre so awful and i hate them lol". and... i dont know what to tell you guys, i think thats mean as hell.

imagine, just for a second, that youre a therian on tiktok. at 13 years old, youve found a friendly community where people express themselves with masks, tails, and a type of movement called quadrobics. they seem to be having fun, so you decide to join in. and for a while, youre having fun too! you start practicing quadrobics, which is tough at first but you work hard to get better. you ask your parents for some cat masks, which you decorate with paint and faux fur. you make videos of yourself and your friends, wearing cat masks and dancing on all fours to some bland indie song.

then, out of nowhere, one of your posts goes viral. and suddenly, youre not having fun anymore.

"therians are crazy", "if you identify as a dog you should be chained and made to sleep naked outside", "my little brother came out as a therian and i bullied him until he stopped lol", "if i see a therian in the woods im shooting them", "if you want to be an animal, ill treat you like one".

again, YOURE 13. so you get defensive, because people you dont know are attacking you online and as a young teen, you dont know what to do to make it stop. so instead of confronting them, you try to please them instead. "im not crazy, im just having fun" turns into "i dont identify as an animal, only crazy people do that!" and then to "therians dont actually think were animals; thats lycanthropy and its wrong". this is what others in your community are saying, so it must be true, right? it helps slow down the criticism at least, if only for a little while; even if it never fully goes away. so you keep saying it, even to others in your community, because if it protects you from judgment, why not?

but now youre dealing with the possibility of your platform disappearing. youll lose your friends, the community youve worked so hard to be a part of. you heard some friends say they might switch to instagram if tiktok gets banned, while others prefer reddit or tumblr. Feeling curious (you didnt realize there were therians on other sites!), you decide to check out tumblr to see what that community is like there. the first post you come across at the top of the tag? "i hope tiktok therians dont come here theyre so awful and i hate them lol".

so yeah. thats the problem with making blanket statements like these; it only pushes away members of our own community. shame is not a motivator, and your aggressiveness gets us nowhere. remember, one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar. so be kind.

[igbylicious]

My god Im so curious about Yunho from your Woosan fic 😫 anything for a solo scene with him to see what hes like esp cuz damn

oh god strictly speaking i don’t take requests but OOF anon it’s whiway and you caught my brain right in the middle of a perfect Yunho-shaped storm asdjhadshj. so here you go, i whipped this up real quick >:3c

WHICHEVER WAY: A YUNHO BONUS

(set before the main series but doesn’t need context. features a different reader character)

pairing: yunho x gn reader

genre: pure smut, strangers who fuck

wc: 2.5k

warnings: bdsm sex party but like a lowkey chill semi-privately hosted one, dom Yunho, sub reader, big dick Yunho obv, explicit consent, blow job, exhibitionism (you suck Yunho off in the middle of a room full of strangers), a lil rough face-fucking & light choking, hand kink, hand on throat, Yunho wears a leather glove, dirty talk, cum swallowing, light hairpulling (@ reader), copious amounts of drool, degradation that sometimes leans into praise, nicknames for reader (‘cocksleeve’, ‘cockslut, sweetheart), corruption kink if you squint, Yunho pov, mention/cameo of the skz aussie line, also a San cameo and he’s shy :3, implied threesome w/ San at the end

a/n: gender neutral reader, wearing clothes described to have ‘generous amounts of see-through fabric’ but no specific details. reader is called ‘little’ but in a sweetly demeaning way; not a reflection on physical size, and also called ‘pretty’. there is a mention that Yunho has larger hands

Yunho always enjoys the parties hosted by Chris. He has a ridiculously large home with plenty of room to accommodate his guests, zero tolerance for unwanted shenanigans — and great snacks at the buffet table.

People tend to underestimate the importance of a good snack during a sex party. Not Yunho.

He scopes out the room while munching on some kkokkalcorn, not in any particular rush to get his hands dirty or his dick wet. It’s still early; the door has not even been closed yet, but already there is a decent amount of people. Yunho knows some of them, at least by face, but there are some unfamiliar ones too.

Yunho hones in on the unfamiliar faces. He enjoys meeting new people, like that adorably inexperienced dom he met at his last party; nerve-wrecked yet filled with potential — but San is not here. Too bad. Yunho wouldn’t mind taking him under his wing again.

But San quickly fades from Yunho’s mind when a stranger catches his eyes. When you catch his eyes.

He stops reaching for more snacks, absent-mindedly using a tissue to wipe his hands clean while he watches you instead. You took the flexible dresscode and ran with it, wearing a sexy getup with generous amounts of see-through fabric. Covered yet exposed. Intended to provoke… but not exuding any particular authority. You want to be noticed, noticed by someone who will act on what they see.

It’s enough for Yunho to mentally categorise you a sub, or at least a switch. He can never be completely sure from just a look, of course — but Yunho has a solid track record of educated guesses, and you’ve put too much effort into your look to be unintentional about what message you telegraph to others. Well, you succeeded in your efforts; Yunho has noticed you, and he is definitely contemplating to act on it.

Your getup almost makes him feel a little under-dressed in comparison. Nice slacks and a flattering pinstripe waistcoat, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms. The look is finished by a nice, bulky watch on his wrist and silver rings adorning his long fingers on one hand, a leather black glove on the other.

(Okay, maybe he’s not that under-dressed. He also wanted to telegraph a message.)

You must feel his eyes on you, glancing Yunho’s way and unmistakably pleased by his attention. You bite your lip, almost like you’re shy, but then you subtly arch your back a little, pushing your pretty plump ass back. You grin when Yunho’s eyes follow the movement, then you saunter over to the buffet table with confident steps.

Yunho watches with a slow, amused smile how you ignore him completely, pouring yourself a glass of water instead. Already you’re playing. He doesn’t mind that, not at all. He can give a little chase if you want to be pursued.

“Haven’t seen you around this scene before. First timer?” he asks. His voice is casual, his burning gaze anything but.

You look at him over the brim of your glass, hiding a coy smile. Your eyes flicker over to Yunho’s hands, lingering on his leather glove. “Second, actually,” you answer, though Yunho infers from your tone that while you might be new to parties, you are not inexperienced with this type of play in general.

“Shame,” he says with a shrug. “Wouldn’t have minded showing you around. Give you the grand tour.”

You set down your glass, tilting your head with a playful glint in your eyes. “…You can still show me around, if you like. Wouldn’t mind being seen with you.”

The way you tilted your head shows off the column of your neck in a way that has Yunho’s hands itching. He considers your grin for a long moment, flexing his fingers. You don’t waver.

“Yeah. I can do that,” Yunho says, something darker creeping into his voice. “So what are you looking for? Any hard limits?”

“Nothing outside what Chris doesn’t allow in his house,” you say, not in the least thrown by the directness of Yunho’s question. You talk through some of your expectations and preferences, and Yunho listens with vested interest as the vast extent of your compatibility rapidly becomes clear.

His pants are already getting a little tight. You notice.

“Then… want to play with me?” you grin, biting your lip at him.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Yunho extends his ungloved hand to you, and he chuckles at how you almost seem disappointed; like you’d hoped for him to grab you by the throat right here and now. “Hey. All good things to those that wait,” he teases, beckoning his long fingers, showing off his rings.

“I’m not good at waiting,” you sulk, but take his hand anyway. For all your pouting, Yunho can feel the shudder that runs through you as his warm palm envelops yours, his rings pressing into your skin.

He leads you away from the buffet table (‘shenanigans near the snacks’ is among the things Chris does not allow), across the house’s open floorplan to a semi-secluded lounge area. You won’t be alone there.

Some of your future bystanders look up at the new arrival, though a few are too wrapped up in each other to pay you and Yunho any mind. Soft moans and faint wet squelches make up the background music, punctuated by the occasional muffled cry from a private room nearby.

Everyone else is seated, but Yunho takes you to stand right in the middle of the lounge area.

“Now, let us see what you can do,” he drawls, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. It’s time to play for real now. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

As you do just so, Yunho glances about the room again. Everyone not otherwise occupied is watching you intently. Hungry interest; some of pure appreciation, others laced with envy.

Just as you unbutton Yunho’s slacks and pull them down, inhaling tightly when you fully comprehend what you are dealing with, Yunho catches the eye of a delicate young man with long blond hair. A pair of lips is lavishing his chest with attention and yet he can’t look away, can’t seem to decide if he wants to fuck you or want to be you, face-to-face with Yunho’s impressive size.

Yunho grins at the pretty freckled blush on the young man’s face — and then ignores him completely, putting his hand on your head to give you a light push down to his half-hard cock. He sighs in bliss when you press a soft kiss against the tip. A sweetheart you are indeed.

You start off slow, not taking him very deep yet; first a few hungry strokes with the flat of your tongue over the underside of his slowly hardening dick. It creates an easier slide for your hand, but your mouth is focused on sucking his cockhead, teasing at his slit. Yunho takes deep breaths, not wanting to show just how affected he is already.

He idly wonders if this is your usual style, working up to more, or if you’re a little intimidated by his sheer girth and length. He wouldn’t mind that — it’s kinda cute, honestly. And it does lead to wonder just how filthy you’ll get once the timidity wears off…

Yunho likes the thought of that. Wants to coax it out of you.

“Cute,” he taunts with a raspy chuckle, sinking his ungloved hand into your hair. “The little cockslut is nervous about taking my dick down that tight throat. Never had one that big before, have you?”

You moan around him, glancing up with a pitiful shimmer in your eyes. You take him just a little deeper, whine in frustration at the physical limitation of your mouth, and pitifully shake your head at him.

His cock twitches, and not just from the vibrations of your whines. Usually Yunho believes he doesn’t have an ego about his size, just appreciates its utility — but then someone like you comes along and proves him all wrong.

A light movement catches Yunho’s eye, and he chuckles again. “Look at you, can’t even keep your hands to yourself,” he scoffs as you try to relieve some of the pressure between your legs. “No. No, that won’t do. Cocksleeves don’t get to touch themselves until they’ve served their purpose.”

You make a noise, slightly more distressed this time as you stare up at him.

“I’m not good at waiting,” you had said. It sounded bratty to Yunho’s ears at the time, still does now, but there is not a hint of defiance in your needy eyes, only desperation.

“But… I happen to be in a friendly mood. How about we make a deal,” Yunho offers in compensation. (Fuck, is he soft on you already?) “You keep your hands where they belong” — he pats on his thighs — “and I will use mine to reward you after.”

Just to make his point, Yunho goes to lightly wrap his gloved hand around your neck, leather pressing against bare skin, while his other hand tugs at your hair a little harder. He saw you check them out earlier. Yunho knows perfectly well how most people feel about his hands, and you are no different.

You swallow thickly around his cockhead, anticipation shuddering through you. Obediently, you press your palms against Yunho’s thighs, fingers brushing against his hipbones. Good. Yunho likes his hands too, likes using them. Especially to wrap around a pretty neck like yours.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he says, tugging at your hair again. “Show me how far you can take my cock without gagging on it.”

Again, you let out a little moan around him, in protest this time.

Yunho’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Oh? My little cockslut is ready to choke on my dick now?” (You sure changed your tune on that one quick. Yunho is definitely not complaining though. Maybe you really aren’t a brat.)

You make an affirmative noise that grows whiny when his gloved fingers tighten ever so slightly. Shit. He’s gonna have so much fun with you.

“Then relax for me, sweetheart. Let’s see how deep I can fit in that tight throat.”

The answer is, right around three-quarters deep. It’s a brave effort, honestly; some don’t even get that far. And Yunho hardly cares about the neglected part of his cock, not when you are so warm and welcoming and wet around the rest of him, drool leaking down your chin. Your eyes are even tearier than before, swollen lips stretched obscenely around his fat cock.

You gurgle weakly, your eyes fluttering shut as you let him guide you up and down his length. He can’t imagine that your jaw isn’t aching, but you make no noise of complaint, content to let him take control now it’s clear where your limit lies. Yunho is fine with that, except…

“Look at me,” he says, just sharp enough to snap you out of your cockdrunk haze. “Let me see those pretty eyes while I’m fucking your mouth. A good cocksleeve can do that for me, can’t you?”

You blink up at him, your gaze wet and shimmering. There is almost an innocence to it, like it’s your first time sucking dick and you are in the middle of a holy revelation right here on your knees for him. Never wanting to let him out of your mouth again.

Although… Judging by the way you’re starting to squirm, rubbing your thighs together, Yunho suspects that last part might just be wishful thinking. He hisses when your nails dig into his hips, like you’re trying to stop yourself from reaching down. Yunho smacks at your hands in warning.

“Hey, hey, don’t go and ruin things for yourself now,” he sweetly coos, though his grin mocks as he firmly rubs his thumb over the length of your neck. “You were doing so well, is this your limit? Is this as much as a fragile cockslut like you can take?”

Immediately you whine in protest, trying to shake your head but pinned by Yunho’s hold on your hair, stuffed too deeply by his dick.

“That’s it,” Yunho hums in approval. “I’m gonna move a little faster now, alright? Be good and swallow my load, then I’ll give you everything you need.”

You moan eagerly, letting him fuck into you with shallow but rough thrusts. Muffled whimpers and wet gurgles escape past his cock, your chin soaked with saliva that spills down onto his glove. It doesn’t take him much longer, not with how good your hot mouth feels enveloping him, and the eyes surrounding you and him still watching how Yunho takes exactly what he wants from you.

He grunts sharply when he hits the back of your throat and you spasm around him with a loud, choked moan — and it takes all his self-control not to buck harder into your willing mouth. He could break you, he knows that. You would gladly let him, he knows that too. Not yet. Not this early in the night.

Instead Yunho pulls back until just his cockhead rests heavy and leaking on your tongue. He strokes his spit-glistening length, just a few quick passes and he groans lowly as hot euphoria bursts through his veins, magnified by the sight of your throat bobbing as he spills inside, swallowing him down.

Yunho pants with harsh breaths as he carefully releases your hair, still semi-hard when your glossy lips are finally released. They stay open in a wide ‘o’ as you stare up at him in a daze, like he fucked the shape of himself into them.

Your knees are stiff and unsteady as Yunho helps you back on your feet. It endears him, appealing to his softer side again. The sloppy mess on your face and neck, however, appeals to a different side. He sort-of wipes you clean, two tender hands cupping your cheeks, but he doesn’t try too hard. He likes the wrecked look too much on you. Wants to see how much further he can take you.

But as Yunho glances up to give his audience one last look, his eyes light up when he finds a familiar face. A face that has clearly been watching them intently for at least a while, cheeks dusted with an adorable blush, a distinct tenting in the pants underneath.

San.

Almost as shy and uncertain as the last time, though he no longer looks like he might bolt at any second — and he looks exactly as eager to please. Yunho is still not wholly convinced that San isn’t a switch, despite what he may say himself; but then again, Yunho’s guesswork has never been an exact art. Doesn’t matter right now anyway. A sweet thing like you might be just what San needs to melt that uncertainty away… and Yunho finds himself in a sharing mood.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Yunho murmurs to you, gently brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Yeah,” you say, slightly hoarse but with a tired, radiant smile. “I’m really good.”

“Then… how does my pretty slut feel about having two cocks tonight?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but you quickly find the target of Yunho’s suggestion, whose flush deepens when he realises he’s been noticed. Your breath catches at the sight of San, and Yunho smiles slowly as he draws you towards him. The night has just gotten started, and already it’s far beyond even his sweetest expectations.

[wonwoonlight]

take a chance / jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo x Reader // 1.7k words // nothing but fluff lol they're idiots

a/n: if you cant tell im absolutely insane abt this wonwoo. 100000% self indulgent and 100% not proofread as always ehe <3 v lowkey inspired also by niki - take a chance with me

He drives me crazy, it's so beyond me

How he'd look at me dead in the eye and stay unaware

Niki - Take A Chance with Me

[☆]

Wonwoo has never really been interested in romance.

When he was six and his friends started talking about girls were icky, he couldn't have cared enough to even think about girls in particular.

When he was fourteen and his close cousin who was practically his big brother told him about his first girlfriend, Wonwoo had simply nodded and congratulated him because the older guy looked like he was waiting for it even though he didn't get what's there to congratulate.

When he was seventeen and another cousin got married, he thought a little about what it'd be like to commit yourself for the rest of your life to another person.

Anyhow, now he's twenty seven and still pretty much free from the dating experience.

He just simply couldn't be bothered to try nor was he even curious enough to try.

There's too much risk. Too much things to do. Too many factors to think about. It's too complicated and Wonwoo has never been a fan of complicated.

Sure, the older he gets the more he understands about the attraction and whatnot. But the few dates that he has been on (which he could count with his two hands) was entirely due to his friends setting up with someone and his inability to say no the second time even though he did reject their so-called-help the first time around.

They eventually get the hint and stop setting Wonwoo up on a blind date.

He never sees romance as a necessity and he doesn't feel the need to have a partner, what is there more to say?

“I lost the floor 12 Abyss again.” You pout, half tempted to throw away the joystick in your hands. “I'm never playing this game again, I'm telling you.”

Wonwoo chuckles and tells you to move as he slides next to you, taking the joystick away and getting ready to restart your game.

“You just suck at this.” He teases, not minding your glare because he's way too used to it at this point. “And you say that everytime but here you are, still playing.”

“Shut up.” You pout, both impressed and unimpressed at the way he easily goes through the stages.

“Done.” He grins, all nine shining stars looking back at you.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do!” You take back the joystick from him and close the window. “You don't even play this game! This is bullshit!”

He laughs under his breath and ruffles your hair, saying something about how he can't help being good at it.

You like that side of Wonwoo, as you often tell him, because people have always said that Wonwoo is quiet–that he doesn't talk a lot and it could be awkward being left alone with him.

And whilst it's not entirely untrue and you've been there too, you also know that Wonwoo is much more than his lack of words.

Wonwoo talks a lot once he's comfortable. You just need to be very patient and understanding about his silence before he gets there.

You… have been plenty patient, amongst other things.

You're patient enough to get where you are even though you've never imagined you'd get here.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to be comfortable with you that he doesn't mind inviting you over to his place with no other companies.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to not mind the fact that you like him and not act weird about it.

Here, meaning being close with Wonwoo despite the fact that you've confessed to him about your feelings but you're still here in his place, right next to him with not a single air of awkwardness between you two.

Turning off the Playstation, you settle on Wonwoo's sofa and decide to scroll through Instagram instead. You sigh, catching his attention, and when he asks you what's wrong, you simply shake your head no.

“What are you sighing about this time?”

This is something that people don't know about Wonwoo either: he prods when it comes to people he cares about.

Granted, he does it exactly three times to see if the other party would relent by then. He does that because that's how he is, he once tells you, because he rarely opens up at the first question but eventually cracks on the third time. That, by the third question, he's already had enough time to consider whether or not he really wants to talk about it.

“Nothing important.” You try to reassure him. “Just silly stuff.”

Wonwoo looks at you pointedly, but you simply smile and turn back to your phone, which he supposes means you don't feel like bringing it up just yet.

He closes his book and puts it on the coffee table, leaning closer to you to see what you're up to.

You wonder if Wonwoo knows what his action means to your poor, poor heart. If he's aware that, as much you said you're cool despite your confession, you still have romantic attractions towards him and confessing doesn't mean you're no longer affected by anything and everything he does.

After watching you go through your phone for a bit, it is quite easy for Wonwoo to realize what might be the core of your problem.

“You're thinking about why you're single again, aren't you?”

Your fingers freeze and so does your entire body, and Wonwoo would've laughed at how surprised you look right now, but he knows you're actually bothered by this problem from time to time though he doesn't exactly understand why.

And for someone who's observative and quite sensitive when it comes to things around him, Wonwoo can be a bit dense, still.

On what kind of universe does he think this topic would be okay to talk about with someone who literally confessed to you and somewhat got rejected though not explicitly?

“I don't want to talk about it.” You whine despite the fast beating of your heart. You honestly don't think you have it in you to talk about this with Wonwoo. At least not just yet.

“Why?”

You look at him, incredulous. “You know why.”

“Because you like me?”

You shrug, not wanting to deny it.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, voice very gentle and careful.

“What?”

“I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive.” You press your lips together as he starts. At least, he has the conscience to know that. “But… what is it about being in a relationship that appeals so much to you?”

You pause before you answer, wondering what to say. “Do you want me to actually answer that?”

“If you don't mind answering.”

Wonwoo wonders if he makes you uncomfortable by asking such question. But if there's anyone he can ask about this, it can only be you. No one else would answer it in a way that he would understand. No one else would give him the sincerity that you'd give in your answer.

He feels bad knowing you like him and still asking you like this. But he supposes you're both close enough for that discussion, that he doesn't want to let your feelings get in the way of your precious friendship.

Perhaps he's selfish, but he doesn't want to be too conscious when it comes to your relationship with him despite everything.

“I guess it's just the fact that someone's always there for you.” You start, not looking at him even though his gaze is locked at you. “That there's this person who… you can tell everything to, from your secrets to what you feel like eating today. That when you want to do something, you can always run to them first before wondering if anyone else is available. That–”

“But that's already how we are?” He cuts you off.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering if it's some kind of prank even though you know he's not that kind of person.

“That's already what I do with you.” He says one more time–more firm and somewhat determined with a hint of confusion. “Why do you think you're in my place so often?”

“I… I– I don't know? You're… bored? And I happen to be free?” You stutter a little, not used to the way he's staring at you.

“I am bored.” He agrees, things suddenly crystal clear in his eyes. “But I'm bored because I don't have you around. And I want you here. That's why I asked all the time if you're available.”

You open your lips to say something–anything, but nothing comes out because your heartbeat is ringing throughout your body right up to your ears.

“You're the only person I send those posts about places I want to visit because I want to visit with you. I don't send them to anyone else. I don't even like going out all that much.”

“I… I don't understand?”

“Are we in a relationship?” He asks rather bluntly, mixing all your feelings together with one single question.

“Wonwoo, I don't think this is how you should go around it–”

“Have we been dating all this time?” He asks one more time, not even seemingly nervous about it.

He looks at you like he's expecting an answer, but how are you supposed to answer that? You've simply been happy that you get to spend time with him. You didn't think for one second that he might be into you despite all the time he asks you to accompany him somewhere and all the time you're alone in his place.

“I've been too oblivious, haven't I?” He concludes by himself, your silence doesn't deter him at all.

He reaches for your cheek, and if he notices how warm your face is, he doesn't mention it. But he caresses the apple of your cheek as he looks at you with the gentlest reflection you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I'm sorry it took me too long.” He whispers, and you bite your lip so hard to hide your smile because you don't want to be too happy before anything's decided. You're not sure what he's trying to say, your head is spinning with thoughts and your heart is beating at an erratic rhythm. “Do you mind… letting me learn a bit more?”

“About what?” You whisper back.

“Being a good boyfriend?” He smiles when you do too, feeling warmth all over his chest at how shy you seem to be. “You know I've never done this before, right? Let me take a chance with you?

You finally let yourself grin at this, no longer able to control the happiness blooming within you at whatever this might mean.

And as you lean your face more into his palm, Wonwoo thinks he's ready to take all the risks that might come together with whatever the future has in store as long as he has you by his side.

[txttletale]

[not accusatory, just curious] can you think of any satisfying ways to resolve the hades storyline while maintaining the suspension of disbelief of the roguelite mechanics? i agree that it sucks that now zag is enforcing the system he was trying to escape, but mythology-wise the dead Are supposed to stay in the underworld (the miserable conditions notwithstanding) and there does have to be a reason for zag to keep trying to escape. ig im not sure how it couldve been resolved better, but im interested to hear your thoughts

i can think of a bunch of ways:

keep the current justiufication but just admit that it's a soul-crushing capitulation

commit to a purposefuly bleak or bittersweet ending. zagreus can't escape (bleak) but that doesn't mean he's ever going to stop trying (hopeful). if you want to lean on the hopeful side of it more put emphasis on how the small moments of peace in the garden on the surface are worth everything else.

zagreus escapes for good, but still has bad memories. the post-game runs can all narratively be nightmares or memories, leaning into a theme that healing from trauma can take time, that escaping from a bad situation doesn't instantly solve all your problems

zagreus escapes for good, but he also helps other shades escape. each run is now, narratively speaking, a breakout. add a little ghost that follows you around and gives you some kind of buff

zagreus is able to live long fulfilling lifetimes on the surface, narrated to us in brief by the narrator, which we don't get to see. escaping the underworld is an unpleasant chore he has to do whenever each of those come to an end but also a chance to catch up and hang out and talk to the people he missed. maybe with this narrativer a reconciliation could feel more... earned, or at least moderated, in that zagreus can essentialy learn to get along with hades for short spells when they're not around each other all the time.

[starburstminibot]

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

[beddybites]

Do you have some REALLY old sketches or drawings of kny characters you could show us, like maybe before your artstyle developed? 😋 (Idk I'm just so curious how you ended up with this fluffy adorable style bc I LOVE IT T-T)

oh my god i absolutely do--

lets use muichiro as an example

the first drawing was from 2019, to give you an idea of what my art looked like at the time

i had no idea how i wanted to go about drawing humans. at the time it was drilled to me i should draw more realistically, so my work suffered greatly. this is why the hair is so messy and the face just looks so... walten-filesy, i guess

the second drawing was from early 2023, when i tried drawing muichiro again as a result of catching up on demon slayer!

i was still not drawing humans, so you can tell i was kinda experimenting a bit with the brushes. i color picked from his official design

i stopped drawing him for a few months, as i really hated how it turned out. i ultimately gave up on my art for a bit

then, at the end of the swordsmith village arc, i tried again. i ended up getting really attached to all of the hashira, so i drew them little profiles-- as shown in the third image

this is where you can see im staring to develop my style properly. i came to terms with the fact that i wanted a more cartoony style, and i started to embrace it. i also made my own color palette to better fit my art style

from then on, i was fixated on demon slayer, and with muichiro being my favorite, i drew him constantly. the fourth image was drawn a couple months later, after the baby hashira craze

you can see how much it was changing. the detail in the eyes, the way i drew the hair, his palette, etc. through constantly practicing and drawing him, i developed my style more and more

the fifth image comes from the "hugging muichiro" series, in which i had to draw muichiro nine different times

i began studying art styles i really liked, and particularly analyzed the way muichiro was drawn in the manga. i loved his hair, and tried to replicate it in my style. you can also see i revised the palette a bit more to better compliment my work!

finally, the sixth image-- my more recent style!

his current rendition really just comes from me having drawn him so many times. my style just grew and grew and grew! i modified his color palette even more, making his hair more blue tinted and giving him a cool color palette

that saying "practice makes perfect" really does reign true tbh. the reason my style is the way it is was because i kept practicing and revising my work, and i would adopt things i like from other people, such as gotouge themself

i hope this helps!!!

my art literally started off looking like That. trust . everyone has potential!

[knavesflames]

chat this contains sh DO NYAT read if uncomfy

putting this in ur ask box cos im desperate for it to be written on my knees screaming

genshin girlies tracting their s/os skin where they see scars while u cuddle naked maybe after a sesh or even just skin to skin cuddling and they speak softly telling you you did a good job and everything and even kissing them AUGH HEHEHRHEHEGRGEGRGRGRGRBDJFJSLANHAHA

Hi <3 sorry this took me so long to get to! I have had a whirlwind of health struggles both mental and physical but I am trying to Lock In again. I’m sorry you went through such tough times :( I understand, and I get the struggle, if you get what I’m implying. Stay safe and healthy fr<3

Word count: 867

Content: sh implied in the past but it’s not graphic, just briefly mentioned, talk of scars, fluff

tw utc

Arlecchino has a rule— as blunt as she may be, she isn’t as cruel as the world likes to make her out to be. Judgemental, though she is, she refuses to comment on something that a person cannot change. She deems it basic decency (it is), but even some of the most polite people she knows don’t hesitate before speaking, or, well, looking. Despite the discomfort she knows you experience when people’s eyes wander and dwell on the exact thing you don’t want them to look at, she herself has never done so. Curious, she has to admit she has been, as would most be if they had a girlfriend with such marks littering her skin. Purely out of concern and care does she wish to know the story of what led you to make such decisions. She does not ask. Arlecchino herself has scars from countless hours of training herself to execute ‘Mother’, ones she keeps hidden under the fabric of her pristine white suit. Ones only you have seen, during moments of intimacy when the night is dark and the air in the room is so suffocatingly warm. You know her story, so you don’t ask.

It seems to be a cycle. She sees them, says nothing, and holds back from doing what she’d really like to do for fear of being insensitive or revealing the softness she keeps hidden. The marks are hidden again, and neither of you say a word. In truth, they shouldn’t be the main focus of the conversation and she understands that, but a part of her yearns to know you, and to understand the parts of you that you’ve refused to reveal.

On the days she catches you staring just a little too longingly at That Drawer in the kitchen, or the days where you seem a little more miserable than usual when you glance at your skin, she’s sure to pull you away from the mirror or the kitchen under the guise of needing you to look over some of the plans for the orphanage, or needing to go shopping. She’s so good at doing so, you don’t even notice she’s done it until hours later.

One particular night, after multiple hours of pleasure and mumbled words of affection, she decides to be bold. Hesitantly, her blackened hand reaches to rest on your thigh. The act itself is nothing new, with you, Arlecchino is a very touchy person, always reminding both her and you that you’re hers. Her thumb however, strokes over one particular scar she’s eyed for a while. It’s a feather light touch, testing the waters, and she’s perfectly prepared to lift her hand away should you indicate as such. You do not. You lean into her touch, almost, like you’ve been waiting for her to get comfortable enough to touch them. You become lost in your own thoughts, and you become unaware of how much time passes before her voice cuts through them, as stern as always, but softer than usual.

“Is this recent?” She hums in slight disapproval as her thumb grazes over it, but she says nothing more, which, if you’re honest, you’re grateful for.

“I had a moment,” you mutter in reply, your head buried into her neck. Her perfume still adorns her skin, and you wonder how expensive said perfume must be if it’s been able to last such a long time, and through such strenuous activity. “I realised and I stopped.”

“Good.” A breath, and her voice lowers until it’s barely louder than a murmur. The sincerity is there though, and her lips move against your hair. “I am proud of you. You have done well.”

“I have not done well, it is—“

“You would not have stopped four years ago. Or two, for that matter. Any progress is better than no progress.” Arlecchino’s voice is gentle, yet unwavering. When you go to protest again, she can practically see the words form before your voice can carry them. “Of course I know how often you were doing it. I am no fool. I said nothing because begging someone to stop doing something when they do not wish to stop is a fruitless endeavour and harmful for both parties in the long run. I just wished you would speak to me if you needed.”

You decide to continue letting her trace every scar she finds on your body. She traces random shapes with the tip of her nail (lucky for you, she filed them a while ago. For.. other reasons). In a moment of affection, she traces little hearts over each one, never missing one, and never giving one more care than another. Both of you stay silent, but the words don’t need to be spoken, and any words that did, have already been said. Arlecchino sees no need in making you uncomfortable when she knows you’ll speak if you need.

Speak you do, eventually, and she remains silent as she listens, giving the occasional nod or ‘mm’ to reassure you that she’s listening. She files all of the information away into her mind, and vows to herself she won’t forget a single word. Arlecchino vows she will love you always.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

request for a logan x reader where logan comforts the reader after they come home from a mission all bloodied up? i see a lot of reader comforting logan fics but im curious to see how itd be the other way round :)

me? responding to a request like three weeks later? it's more likely than you think. also sorry it's so short. originally it turned into smut but i didn't know if you'd want that given the request was for hurt/comfort. (if you guys want i can publish the alternate smut version of this fic too).

solace

summary: you come home from a mission gone wrong and logan helps you through it.

warnings: death (offscreen), blood, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, reader has hair, pet names (logan canonically calls his love interests "darlin'" and this is me pushing that agenda), english is not my first language so please do not be rude

word count: 1004

you’re splattered in blood and grime, grey ash streaking your skin from the fire created by a little boy lashing out at the world. he had set his own house on fire, his parents dying in the most brutal of ways, burned alive.

“oh princess, c’mere,” logan pulls you into his arms. you’re in too much shock to argue, letting him manoeuvre you like a doll.

you don’t like going on missions, don’t like hurting people. you’re only ever sent on the easy ones, the non-violent ones, where you try to convince mutant kids to join the school. you’re good at talking to children, at getting them to admit their fears to you, at soothing their worries. but even the easy missions don’t always go well.

charles could sense that this particular child was powerful, and far worse than that, he was angry. he’d lashed out when he’d seen you, screamed in anger when his parents expressed a desire for him to go to xavier’s school, to learn to control himself before he came back home again. his parents were frightened too, scared of what might happen if things continued the way they were.

they’d all died in the explosion of his power.

he was so scared. he never meant to hurt anyone, you could see it in his eyes when the fire continued to burn despite him letting go. it was out of control, no longer a part of him that he could control like an extra limb, but something with a mind of its own.

it reminds you of yourself when you’d first discovered your abilities, scared and alienated from the rest of the world, from the non-mutants around you. you see yourself in every kid you save, and in every kid you lose.

you stay in logan’s arms for a long while, the only sound in the room his steady breathing contrasting with your ragged, choked out sobs. his chest rises steadily against yours, a rhythm that you try to imitate but you can’t, and with every failed inhale you feel your frustration grow, your panic increase.

he picks you up easily, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clutching onto him so as not to fall. he would never drop you, you know that, but it’s always a slight surprise when you’re not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

he leads you to the bathroom where he helps you strip out of your clothes, so gentle with your shaking form. his hands trace each new sliver of skin revealed to him, keeping a firm pressure on you always, grounding you, reminding you of where you are. not in a burning house watching a child’s corpse go pitch black from the flames, but in the house that logan bought the two of you, not too far from the school but enough to give the two of you privacy.

in the shower, the blood rinses off your skin, pink rivulets swirling down the drain. yet you can still feel it, thick and sticky and warm. you want to scrub at your skin until its red and blistering, until you have to grow a new layer of skin, a fresh one that hasn’t been touched by death.

logan doesn’t let you. he catches your hand and whispers, “let me take care of you, darlin’.”

you lean into his bare chest and he massages shampoo into the roots of your hair, over your scalp until it foams, and then rinses it away. he runs your conditioner - the one he always claims is too expensive and why would you spend so much on hair products - through your hair, tugging gently at the strands when he notices you disappearing into your mind.

afterwards he pats you dry, and kisses every inch of your skin, reverent, on his knees before you. and then he rises to his feet and finally presses his lips to yours, soft and intimate, not rushed or heated, just reassurance that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going anywhere.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually.

you shake your head, “he was just a kid.”

“i know,” logan says, rubbing his large, rough hands over your arms, up and down, “but it’s not your fault, you know that. you can’t control what other people do. d’you blame storm for what happened?”

“no!” you exclaim, eyes wide at the implication that one of your best friends could have caused the boys death.

“but she was on the mission with you,” logan comments, and you shake your head, “if you don’t blame her, you can’t blame yourself. neither of you knew, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“maybe,” you say. you don’t really believe it, but logan knows it’ll take you time to get back to your usual happy self, and he’s fine with staying by your side, whispering praise and reassurance until you start to believe him again.

afterwards, he puts on your favourite movie. he spends the whole time making fun of the characters and their decisions, grumbling about how movies will base their entire plot progression on actions no real, rational person would ever do, until you giggle wetly and slap him in the arm, telling him to shut up and let you watch the film.

you lean back into the circle of his arms and he holds you tight, occasionally wiping stray tears that run down your cheeks. there’s less tension in your muscles now, but you’re not quite relaxed, so he shuffles the two of you around until he can massage your shoulders and back.

you moan at the feeling, sinking into the sensation of his large hands working at the knots, until you’re putty for him. you feel warm and fuzzy by the time his hands start to stray down, massaging your thighs.

“feelin’ better?” he asks as the end credits roll, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you sigh, “thank you for taking care of me.”

[cheriden]

˙ . ˚ ₊ 「 needy streamer overload 」 ꜝꜝ

“‘Cause I don’t need a fucking mod anyway. I’ll deal with whatever comment is thrown my way because I’m not a pussy that needs to be kept in the dark.” If his solution is to fire you then date you, he may be as foolish as you feared. “You think that shit is easy?” You hiss, pushing him off you and onto his seat. “You know what people say about you, Beomgyu?” His body is trapped in between your arms, gulping down as you get close to his face. “They think you’re a fame whore who’s desperate for a click, and you should just slut yourself out for cash.”

── synopsis 。the boy from across the hall hired you to assist in his streaming and admits his feelings for you on his livestream

pairing 。streamer!beomgyu × moderator!reader

.ᐟ genre 。a bit of angst but it's sooo little and maybe i got sad thinking about the mental health of the streamer and the fan base

.ᐟ tags 。sub!idol (somewhat forced submission), switch!idol at the end, boss-worker relationship, co-workers, love confession, beomgyu is an attention seeker here (said lovingly), miscommunications and non-speaking terms, praise & degredation, name-calling, unprotected sex, creampie, a looot of dialogue, riding and missionary, an adequate amount of descriptive kissing

.ᐟ status & word count 。oneshot | 2.93k | masterlist

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。as always i did not proofread. reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns

The broadcast has barely started, yet thousands flood into the stream as Beomgyu fixes his headset. He stares at the chat box while hundreds of people send him praises and greetings, mouth curving upwards. You, on the other hand, are not having as great a time, mouse working double-time to ban and restrict hurtful profanities. 

“Hi Bamtoris! Today’s a great day, because we finally reached our sub goal!” He yells and shakes the camera, jostling onto his seat as his energy stabilizes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for all my viewers! Just you watching is enough to keep me going. As promised, we will be starting our Q&A stream!” He cheers, swiveling around with his head against his hand. “Up until now I haven’t really answered any questions about myself; I know you guys are probably curious about a lot of things. It’s only right that we get to know each other better~” You scoff at his poor attempt at fan service, watching him do every type of cute pose at the camera. It’s not surprising when his poor fans pick up everything that he puts out, losing their minds as you barely keep up with the comments that move at lightspeed. You’re sure he loves his fans; though it’s a bit annoying when you have to be on the receiving end of cross checking every line they have to say before they get to him. Beomgyu, being who he is, tries to spot any and every comment before you try to take it down. 

The 30 minute mark rolls by smoothly, and right as you think about relaxing, you’re immediately jinxed as Beomgyu giggles, covering his mouth with his palm. “So you’re interested in my love life?” It catches you off guard, as you scramble to look for the user he’s pertaining to. Yet the damage is already done, unable to scroll back with the unceasing questions for follow up. “No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” You suppose it’s harmless in itself, riding on the hopes that you know what he’s doing. He’s allowed to see or date whoever he chooses, after all.

[right now?] 

[yo??????]

[this is my time to shine fr]

[sorry guys, it’s me.]

“Actually… I’ve had a crush on someone for a while now.” He starts, pout replacing the grin on his face as he looks down, toying with his fingers.

[wait we’re seriously doing this rn?]

[is this a bit?]

[chat…what is going on]

“I don’t even think she likes me back, to be honest. She’s really indifferent to me.”

[she broke ur heart?? My baby:((]

[im going to kill her] (deleted)

[how could she ?? ur so sweet!]

“No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head, “It’s really professional of her to be honest. She knows how to separate work from personal business. She keeps me safe, and is always there for me, like you guys are!”

[does she know you like her lolll]

[confession stream?!]

[ain’t no way…]

[whooooooooooooooooo?!]

He grins, building suspense by drumming the table. “She’s been a great help to all of my streams. My savior, my guardian angel, my one and only mod!” 

You cough violently, reaching the far end of the table for your water bottle. What the fuck is he on? You fail to catch the rest of his confession, his words numbing your ears as you're frozen in place.

[LMFAO]

[BRUHHHHHH]

[don’t date her plz, i would actually shoot myself.] (deleted)

[fr is this a prank]

“Calling her “Mod” is a bit dehumanizing, you think?” He ponders, “I don’t think I should call her by her real name on stream, so what do we suggest, chat?”

[mod-nim? idk]

[angel! like you said earlier<3]

[bitch]

[you said we would get married. Fuck you stupid cheater choi beomgyu]  (deleted)

[anything you like!]

[u should ask her..]

“I like Angel!” He replies, clapping his hands. “I think it suits her—my Angel.” You’re barely functioning, on the edge of your seat as you try to predict what he says next. “That’s all the time I have today, bamtoris. What do you suggest we do for our next sub goal?”

[baking stream!]

[those 24 hour streams hehe]

[strip game lol] (deleted)

[house tour]

“Okay, I’ll host a poll for the most popular replies later! Stay tuned my babies~ See you–and thank you again for two thousand subs!” With that, he waves at the webcam, throwing kisses onto the camera as he clicks end livestream. You waste no time, exiting your apartment and knocking on his studio across from yours frantically.

The front door opens with a wide grin plastered on the other’s face. You sneer, shoving past him. “What the fuck was that?” He drops onto the couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “I take it you did not enjoy today’s work?” Your chest heaves rapidly, feet planted near the doorway as you try to string together a coherent (and professional) sentence. “Angel, I’m allowed to have my own life outside of work. That includes my love life, which does not concern you or my viewers.” He practices the nickname, turning his head to face you. “Does not concern me? You have a fucking crush on me! Your fans would go ballistic if you actually dated someone.” He scoffs, “Are you saying people only watch me not because I’m entertaining but because of my face?” You shake your head, leveling with him on the sofa. “Beomgyu, I would never say that.” The other’s eyebrow is raised, expecting a catch. You so desperately wish to shelter him on this topic, even if it’s a half-truth. “I’m saying your viewership is over 60% female. It wouldn’t hurt for you to–” The laugh that exits him is hollow and unamused. “You want my fans to delude themselves into thinking they could get with me?” You place your hands on top of his in an attempt to de-escalate his temperament. “No! But as long as you’re not taken—” They’re swatted away, and he recoils. “It’s implied!” You gulp. “Fine. Yes, it helps them hold on to the sliver of hope they have.”

“Then I’d be profiting off of their parasocial perception of me.” A hint of guilt makes its way to his expression, one that you mirror. You hadn’t hoped to be part of such a cycle that takes advantage of the emotions of an individual. “You could have worded it more nicely. They’re your fans.” The shame on his face stiffens up into annoyance. “You were the one who put the ideas in my head!” You turn away from him. “It’s what happens to all streamers, Beoms. You build rapport, a following and that’s how they come back.”

His face is buried in his palms, clicking his tongue as he ruffles his hands through his hair. “Get out.” Your face falls, “What?” He pushes past you, opening the door. “Get out. You’re not my boss, you work under me.” He hisses, nostrils flaring as opposed to the stiff composure he tries to put up. “You check my schedule, you clean my inbox, you edit my vods. You don’t get to tell me what I can’t do.” Through clenched fists, you take in a deep breath, trying your best to keep your own calm. Though perhaps your own anger and panic is laced with a bit of hurt. Beomgyu has never gotten pissed off at you, no matter the circumstance. “Fine. If that’s how you feel our workplace terms should be, then that’s the protocol I will follow” You reply. A lump gets caught up in your throat and nearly chokes you as you turn to him. “You’re right, you’re the boss.” You murmur, tight-lipped. The door slams behind you louder than you intended, but you shake it off and trudge back to your apartment.

A few streams have passed since your verbal altercation with Beomgyu, minimal contact held on both your ends. His last text was a screenshot of the poll results he promised his viewers and you gulp down at the landslide of votes asking him to do a strip game. Would this take a toll on his mental well being? The silent confirmation that he’s being looked at for his physical appearance and not for his content? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard overlay, drafting messages to ask if he’s fine, to tell him he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

But you’re neither his manager nor his PR team, and now you’re not even sure if you have the right to talk to him as a friend. You revisit the chat, texting a short “stream starts in 10” and he replies with a thumbs up emoji. 

You don’t know what game he’s playing, but you’re sure as hell not participating. Cross-armed, you slump back in your seat as he plays a first person shooter, with each death prompting him to take a piece of accessory or clothing off. He’s layered in a dramatic amount of jackets and coats, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at how comical he looks. But you pull yourself back to Earth, your screen indicating his next death. He clicks his tongue, taking off one of his coats. 

Beomgyu’s right. He’s smart, and he would never do anything to jeopardize what he has worked so hard to achieve. You watch him argue with the comments about cheating and how socks don’t count because nobody couldn’t see it anyway, simultaneously deleting serious comments about buying said garment. You reassure yourself that he’ll do what is in his best interest for him, even if you subconsciously note the change in his playstyle, a little more risky and miscalculated than it usually is.

However you hold out, arms glued to your sides and trying your best to bury yourself in your chair as he takes off his shirt. He’s in a top, thank goodness, and it seems to do wonders for his image as his viewers go crazy for his physique. You yourself have to admit that for someone who complains about putting in the effort to work out, his figure fairs prettily. You clutch the table in annoyance when he dies a pointless death right after respawning, opting him to be stripped bare for his chest area. How many deaths has he had in two games? Even the comments are questioning his skills, something that was previously glossed over as people assume it was from getting used to the mechanics.

“I really suck at this character.” Beomgyu pouts, shimmying what you assume are his shorts off camera. He looks over the chat while waiting to be revived, body facing away from his main screen. “Yeah, I’m only in my underwear now. Such a shame, on my last game too.” He snickers, resting his head on his palm. 

What the fuck was he doing? He’s not seriously thinking about getting naked live, is he? “You want to see? My chat is a bunch of perverts.” He says playfully, turning back to the game. “Oh shit. I lost.” The comments cheer as he closes the game, lightly swiveling in his chair. The camera is taken off the tripod and into the boy’s shaky hands. “Oh well, A promise is a promise!” He beams, and you lunge out of your seat, running over to his studio. All the doors are unlocked, and you’re not sure if it’s a blessing or a red flag, but you bust into the studio and pull the plug on all of his devices. “What is wrong with you?!” You bark, throwing the heavy coats on top of him. Your seething contrasts the smirk on his face as he pulls his shorts up. “I knew it, you care about me.” Your mouth falls agape, blinking and laughing like you’ve gone insane. “Are you genuinely stupid? You’re my boss. You would’ve ruined your life, Beomgyu.” He shrugs, slumping against his seat. “I never would’ve shown my dick, obviously.”

“You could’ve had like–whatever the nip slip equivalent is for this.” You shriek. “Calm down,” He says, acting as if you were the unreasonable one. “I had it under control, alright? If anything, you caused the commotion.” The air hangs in an uncomfortable silence, until you start laughing again. “Me?” He doesn’t find it funny. “Yes, you. People will think I have a girlfriend, and you were so against that idea before, right?” You’d like to punch that cocky grin off his lips, gaze narrowing at him. “Did you do this on purpose?” He shrugs again, pursing his lips. “Wanted to see if you would stop me.”

You shake your head, pivoting yourself out of the room. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He grabs at your wrist, eyes solemn and serious. “I care about you—can’t I want your care for me, even if it’s over something as stupid as this?” You do nothing but gape back at him, and he pulls you in closer, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Face it, you like me, even if it’s not like that.” You roll your eyes. “You’re such an egoist, Beomgyu.” He pays no mind to your insults, “What I want to know is why you only delete comments that talk shit about me, and you ignore the ones dog-piling on you.” Your brows pinch in confusion. “”Cause it’s my job to protect you, fuckface. My comments don’t matter.” He’s quick to dismiss you. “That’s not true, and it sucks when I see you put yourself down like you don’t matter. Even if you say you don’t like me, I like you. That shit affects me too.” You scoff, violently removing his grip on you. “That’s such bullshit. Those comments were for one live and don’t mean anything to me.” His face contorts into a mix of amusement and disbelief. “They don’t? Not the ones that called you a bitch and a user?” Your gaze is stuck on the floor, refusing to give him any satisfaction over the topic. “What about the ones who called you all those slurs and a nympho, they don’t even know you.” You clear your throat. “Well, it shouldn’t matter to you, because it’s none of your business.” 

His gaze softens, “You are my business.” “No—you’re my business, and I work for you. That’s all.” Your expression is sharp and blank, staring right into him. “Is that what’s keeping you from being with me?” He exclaims, gears turning in his head. “‘Cause I don’t need a fucking mod anyway. I’ll deal with whatever comment is thrown my way because I’m not a pussy that needs to be kept in the dark.” If his solution is to fire you then date you, he may be as foolish as you feared. “You think that shit is easy?” You hiss, pushing him off you and onto his seat. “You know what people say about you, Beomgyu?” His body is trapped in between your arms, gulping down as you get close to his face. “They think you’re a fame whore who’s desperate for a click, and you should just slut yourself out for cash.” You don’t miss the way his alarmed stare flickers to your lips. “I defend you from shit like that every time you open your camera, and you think it's as easy as ignoring a few trolls? Even your own fans joke about it.” 

“Though looking at you now, you’re just as dirty and trampy as they make you out to be.” You wedge your knee in between his crotch, and he falters at the contact. “If you’re a pervert who gets off shit like this? Maybe you’ll be just fine after all. Fuck, maybe you can even make a living out of it.” He slumps over your leg, resting his cheek on your thigh with heavy breaths. “Please—” He chokes out, and you tilt your head curiously. “Please what?”

“Please make it better.”

You snatch the waistband of his underwear and tug it down to his thighs, eyes screwed shut as his dick hits his stomach. Beomgyu groans at the cool air that hits his skin, replaced with the warm slick from  your cunt. He looks up at you panting over him, brows furrowed as you try to sink further on him. Without warning, he bucks his hips up into you, making you fall down onto his lap. Tugging his hair back, you glare at him. “Don’t. Move.” You hiss. The other whines in response, gripping on the arm rests and burying his face between your neck. You huff, digging your fingers into his shoulders as you sink deeper. “I can’t–you have to move, please move or else—” “Or else what?” You cut him off, “I’m the one doing you a fucking favor here. So you’ll take what I give you or I'll take it all away.”

He’s fully situated in you, but you still aren’t moving—and it’s driving the brunette insane. He starts rolling his hips slowly, and he was pretty sure you didn’t notice until a small whimper leaves you. His gaze locks in with your own—eyes watering and lips quivering as you try to remain calm. 

With one swift motion, Beomgyu hoists you up to his hips and drags the both of you onto the bed. He lets you down gently onto the mattress, planting a kiss on your forehead as he drives himself deeper into you. 

The both of you don’t say anything for a while–-the room filled with shaky breathing and whimpering, along with the squelching from where your bodies connect. His hips suddenly stutter and snap into you, causing you to moan loudly. His hands move from your thighs to take hold of your face, kissing you like his life depended on it. You yelp when he bites down, prying himself into your mouth. He starts thrusting faster, raking the sides of your torso with his tongue still lodged in your throat. Out of the blue, he pulls himself off you, watching the way your pussy sucks his cock in and out. “Angel, you’re so pretty…So pretty when you go dumb on my dick, that smart mouth of yours can’t keep up with me.” He sighs, pressing his thumb on your clit. Your legs try their best to close but he spreads them further apart, bending down so that his chest is sitting on yours. “So pretty, thinking about nothing but me. I wish you’d always think about me.” He mumbles mindlessly, “I love you.”Your cunt clenches at his words, and you’re sure he feels it by the way he arches his back into you. 

He picks up his pace again, whining and babbling incoherent phrases. He tells you he loves you over and over again, before cutting himself off. “I-I’m close, can I cum inside?” You nod feverishly and he smirks, kissing the tip of your nose. “So cute, eager for me to fill you up? I’m at your disposal, angel. I’ll give you anything and everything you want.” He rushes, kissing the sides of your face until you come around him, inducing his own orgasm as he rides both of your highs out, white strings overflowing to the base of his dick and the inners of your thighs.

“So...” He starts, drumming his fingers against your thigh. You turn to him, lips in a pursed line. “So… You’re actually in love with me.” 

Beomgyu makes a deadpan expression, dropping his shoulders. “I thought that was clear already from like, the million times I told you.” Trying to face away, you shuffle against the bed, but he holds your waist and pulls you close to him. Still, you refuse to meet his gaze. “Well, words are just—words.” Your phrases make him petulant, circling over the dip of your skin with his thumb. “Well, I do mean it.”

“I know I just— I don’t think—you’re a public figure, Beomgyu.” The sulk on his face deepens,  a successful attempt to make you pity him. “I’m still just me. Completely separate from whatever facade I choose to show the rest of the world.” He says, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be yours, as Beomgyu, not some mega-talented and skilled streamer.” You scoff at his never ending confidence, shoving him away from you. His face beams when he lightens the mood. “So?” You raise an eyebrow, “So?”

“Do you want to try,” He gestures between the two of you, “this?” He can visualize the gears turning in your head, and he has to admit to himself that he’s scared of your answer. You release your bottom lip from your teeth. “One date.” He flips over to rest on top of you, resting his face on your chest. “One date and a hotel.” 

You scoff. “One date until dinner.” Pouting, he mumbles, “I thought that was implied.” You giggle, combing your fingers through his hair. “One date with a dinner, and if it goes well we’ll see where that gets us.”

“Deal.”

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs, and tags for support towards the algorithm appreciated♡

sorry this took so long i totally forgot about it until i got a dm asking me about it xd

─── 〔 𝒎.𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 〕

[2amriize]

Hi, I want to request an MTL to fall for a quiet girl who isn't quiet when she is closed with someone (if that makes sense lol) thank you!!!

yep, that make sense!!! (im that kind of girl) ˆ𐃷ˆ tysm for your request!

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ MTL RIIZE — fall for a quiet girl (who isn't quiet when she is close with someone)

most Eunseok Anton Sungchan Shotaro Seunghan Sohee Wonbin least

⊹₊ ⋆MOST

ᯓ★ Eunseok He would be very intrigued by you. At first, he would notice you because of how shy you are, but he would definitely fall for you when he sees how your personality completely changes once you get close to him. He would be fascinated by how much you can change, but he would also love the way you are when you're with him. He would find you incredibly endearing and would love being with someone as calm as you.

ᯓ★ Anton Even if you were quiet all the time, you would still catch Anton’s attention because, in the end, you were quite similar. He had the courage to approach you and talk, discovering that, as he had imagined, you were much more talkative once you felt comfortable with someone. You both understood each other very well, and that was one of the reasons why he fell in love with you.

ᯓ★ Sungchan Sungchan is not introverted at all, but he is very drawn to introverted people. That’s why, when he saw how quiet you were in a group, he became more curious about you. At a moment when you were alone, he approached you to start a conversation, discovering just how different you really were.

ᯓ★ Shotaro Shotaro simply loves meeting and talking to everyone. He noticed that you were quite quiet, so he hesitated for a moment about whether to talk to you or not because he didn’t want to bother you or have an awkward conversation. He was very surprised to see that the more you got to know each other, the more you talked, and he loved listening to you talk about anything. Even though it might take him a bit, I feel like he would enjoy having a partner who is calm around others.

ᯓ★ Seunghan Seunghan doesn’t usually approach someone first, and neither do you, so it might be a bit difficult for the two of you to start talking. Eventually, one of you would bring up a topic of conversation, and even though your conversations might be a bit awkward at first, the more you talked, the more comfortable you would become with each other, realizing how much you had in common.

ᯓ★ Sohee Sohee is also like this; he’s more quiet at first, but once he gets comfortable, he reveals his true self. The thing is, it would be really hard for him to approach you, and he might not be very interested in you at first because of how quiet you are. However, once you got comfortable, you wouldn’t be able to stop talking and joking with each other. Even so, I feel like you wouldn’t catch his attention as a romantic partner, or at least it would take him a lot longer.

ᯓ★ Wonbin I feel like, since you’re quiet and don’t draw much attention, it would be harder for him to approach you, especially since both of you are a bit quiet at first. Also, as I’ve mentioned before, I feel like Wonbin likes to be approached rather than making the first move, so unless you gathered the courage to talk to him first, you probably wouldn’t start a conversation. Plus, I feel like Wonbin is more attracted to extroverted people, to complement him.

LEAST ⊹₊ ⋆

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @cherryishxo @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Chapter 2: Jobless? More like Job-bless

A/N: Link to prev ch + mini epilogue of the chap (where it goes to another character’s pov aside from the reader :DD) :

Preface:

After the mess of a morning, you instantly got roped into the orderly chaos of the bakery. Under a contract (a list of chores really) you are now tied to the place Nonna and Nonno calls home.

Although, you soon come to learn that it is the home of other certain individuals as well.

With a groan, you wonder how many things are left on the chore list posted on the to-do board, pinned with all sorts of menus, post-it notes, old recipes, and photos of people you don’t really care to know or recognize; although, you were curious of who that one handsome man was.

Which you kept at the back of your mind to ask Nonna during your break later.

For now, you had to focus up and sort this damn mountain of trash.

You even got scolded by the trash guy for having mixed the recyclables and non-recyclables! You pouted, mumbling that it wasn’t your fault but the old couple who ran this place— yet all he did was wave you off, saying that he’d make an exception and come by tomorrow, ‘as long as the trash is sorted.’

To be honest, you’d rather sort him to the non-recyclables pile.

Rancid- the whole lot of it was! You couldn’t believe it got stocked up until the second floor of the building… but you kinda have to wonder if they threw it from below with an underhand throw or dropped from the room you were currently in.

The latter seems more plausible.

Until you saw Nonna, spin and accurately place another bag on top- winking at your gaping form, knees bent with your elbows resting on it exhaustion.

“Is that nasty sickness gone?” She asks, arms folded on her chest as she leans by the doorway.

“I think I got another type of nasty sickness,” you raised your arms and showed the dirty yellow rubber gloves and apron covered in grime.

She laughs and nods, “well better get to finishin’! Else, you wouldn’t make it to the lunchtime rush.”

“Is that part of the list too?” You asked, stunned, you were very sure that was on there until Nonna waved you in. Pointing at the pin board by the doorway.

You slightly let yourself, making sure none of the guck got in the place you just cleaned. Bending and craning your neck upward, you gasp at how the checklist just became double its size from before, a stapler at both ends of the first one connecting to the next.

You quickly turn your head, tone accusatory- “you added onto it!”

“There’s a lot to do,” she shrugs, “didn’t quite give you the full list.”

She points to the first saying how that was Nonno’s list while the next was made by her. You pouted, finding it unfair- knowing how it wouldn’t be completed in a day, actually more than a week no less!

“How am I supposed to help you guys tomorrow if I can’t find my place today?”

She hums, tapping her chin before snapping her fingers and roughly pinching your puffed out cheeks.

“You stay upstairs with us, of course!”

“WHAT?”

You reflexively scream reacted, falling to your dramatically as your hands catch your upper body before it fell into the door way face first.

“Not a bad deal, right dearie?”

“Rightly so, dear wifey!”

You could hear the old couple tease you (with the old man coming in to see what the racket was that disturbed him from his cooking routine, only to see his wife amusing herself once more with the new kid she “adopted” (nonna’s words not his)) making you feel even more depressed, wondering what made you think it was a good idea in the first place to sign up to this deal.

You wanted info- and they needed a helper. The end.

You should have read the Terms and Conditions really. (The non existent one aka, reading between the lines and the vibe of the couple.)

Alas, you accepted your fate, resigning to it really as you stood up, looking at the list before retuning to the trash area, where the old couples kisses and giggles were still echoing by the back door way. A reality slapping reminder of what you needed to get back to immediately.

Kneeling by the pile you left, you spot a cat- a strangely pristine white one with bright blue eyes. It looked a bit fancy to be wandering around this part so you checked its neck for a collar yet there was none.

Humming to yourself, you called to it softly as you removed your stickily sweat gloves.

The cat, as if heeding your call, comes closers to your whispers of encouragement and ultimately sits before you meowing and nudging its head towards you.

“Aww!” You gleamed, immediately petting it with your finger tips, but melt even more as it long and fluffy tail wrapped around your fingers- as if urging you to continue your pampering.

“You’re such a cutie! Aren’t ‘cha?” You continue cooing at it, and with how immediately comfortably attached the cat was with you- you decided to try and carry it by opening your arms.

The cat crawls pause, sensing your pets has stopped and stares at you.

You stare it back.

Like a lightbulb popping up, the cat meows and stand up, crawling closer and…

“Now who the hell is there?”

You and the cat screech, both jumping in the air.

Although the difference between the two of you was one landed on their ass while the other ran away.

Unceremoniously once again.

You heaved, looking at the man intimidatingly making himself known by the entrance of the alleyway to the back door of the bakery, smoke in hand while the other was on his side- a holster you assume as you see something gleam below the morning light.

You noticed that he wore a suit quite similar to the men you met last night. Although this time, it was dark navy blue in color with a heavy coat on top, and brown shoes that seemed quite shinier that the jewels he wore on his fingers.

As you picked apart his outfit, he came in closer, noticing how you shivered at his presence (you weren’t it was just cold and he surprised the beejeebus out of you.)

So he stopped a bit aways away, five feet apart to be safe of the unexpected accusation that might come along by strangers at the street side.

“Got any business with this place?”

“Huh?” You look up at him, finally looking at his- less irritated, more confused than anything- face. His slicked back blonde hair made his eye brow raise and forehead creases even more noticeable as he tossed to you his questionable stare.

“Oh, uh yeah- I do.”

He nods, “right.”

You deadpanned, with you not believing him and him not believing your words— you decided to start the conversation again by standing and introducing yourself.

“I’m Graves,” he does the same, and stuff his hands in his pocket, offering a nod and grin.

“Like…” you paused, “the tombstone?”

He deadpans this time and sighs, shaking his head.

“You... you can put it that way,” he waves his hand, “but what’s your business here anyway, shortstack?”

You grumble to yourself about his nickname but placed in the back burner for later, where you would also burn him- but that’s a plan in the making.

“Why do you need to know?” You reply, a bit apprehensive of his prying. It’s not like he lived here- as far as you know.

…Maybe he was going to hustle you for messing with his favorite smoking spot?!

“Oh!” You turn to him, making his mouth clamp shut. “This might have been your smoking spot right? My bad.”

You bowed your head in a slight bow when apologizing, “its just that the owners of the bakery told me to clean up here,” you pointed to the pile of dump on the trashcan, “but as you can see, its taking me some time.”

He laughs, finally connecting the dots in his head and figuring who you were.

“Those old hags giving you trouble?”

Suddenly his arm was on your shoulder, slinging you forward and into his space which made you slightly flinch away, half uncomfortable and the other half making you hope wouldn't dirty his- clearly expensive- suit then blame it on you and pay for cleaning or worse... replace it.

Yeah, you didn't want to think about that.

So, you shook your but deeply sigh anyways, "it's all good."

You didn't know why but you wanted to reassure the stranger. In hope of getting him off your case? Maybe so- but it was more likely that his suit quite stank from the smell of cigs and alcohol, but with the mix of his- high end- cologne- it was just a smell that spelled disaster for your senses.

"Really now?" Unconvinced he was again but at this point, why did you continue to care?

So you huffed, sliding out of his grasp- surprisingly easily- and went by the back door, arms crossed just like a certain someone had done moments ago.

"Really," you rolled your eyes, "but its up to you to believe it or not."

Graves' eyes sparkled, smirk widening as he sniffs out a challenge- a challenge to his authority.

He scoffs out an amused chuckle as he sees you stomp back into the bakery in a huff, clearly cutting short your interaction with him and the conversation.

A conversation he quite wanted to continue.

So he follows, interest now piqued, wondering if you were a new face in town or simply a fleeting face he'd forget in a momentary notice. Whatever it was, he wanted to know.

His gut feeling says he has to--

it hasn't proven him wrong after all.

Entering the warm bakery as compared the cold breeze the outside gave made you shiver, hoping your body would better quickly adapt to the temperature change.

Quickly hanging your apron, you called out to the two that you came back for the lunch rush, all the while washing your hands in the kitchen's sink.

Whistling a tune, you think back to the words of Nonna earlier, having said that you would have to stay here until you get the end of your bargain. At least, that was what you think she meant until the list is done and dealt with.

Your actions slow as you think of an alternative-- you could text your co-worker and ask them right now, but that was embarrassing to think of doing. They gave simple instructions of how to get at the place, yet you somehow got lost and stumbled upon so much more people than you think you would have before coming into this reputable city.

To be honest to yourself for a moment, you didn't want to admit it to them not because of embarrassment- but because of how you felt ashamed of yourself. You didn't like having yourself in this position, squandering away for any penny you can make, scraping by with each paycheck, and most of all, for being so stupid that you can't even repay the kindness your co-worker has shown you. It felt like a waste, that you weren't using it right now-- staying at their place and slowly making it up to them by paying back every single money they spent to pay for rent, utilities, and food that they provided.

So you resolved yourself, slapping your face with the washed hands to wake yourself up from the quite long (short) introspection of your situation right now.

You did owe Nonna and Nonno for staying here, but for the boss of Soup? No... Suds-? Anyways, you had to repay that guy's boss as well for the lodging last night.

Maybe you can rearrange the agreement with the couple to provide- at least- the minimum of minimum wages so you wouldn't be just free labor for their amusement.

Despite thinking that they really might need some help, looking around at the state of place.

"Seems like you washed your hands extra clean."

You hear a sip behind you, jumping once more as you naturally glared at the person that spooked you.

"Could you like," you waved your hands around trying to find words, "not spook me every time you appear-- are you the boogeyman incarnate or something?"

This man in front of you, as formal as he looks, just breaks into cackles.

Downright fits of laughter that continuously bubble out of him.

Wheezing and all that-- but you wait, staring at him strangely and for him to catch his breath.

After a couple minutes pass and he doesn't, even leaning against the doorway as he covers his face (which was bright red) in attempt to limit his giggles, you sigh and untangle your arms. Pushing yourself off the sink and moving him aside so you could start the lunch shift.

"Wa-wait!"

You hear the man wheeze out and in frustration, you grumble out a- "what?"

"I- I was only ask-asking about you earlier bec-because--"

"because he's la famiglia, cara!"

You turn to the sudden pop of Nonna at your side, looking at her in question, "what do you mean-?"

"He-!" She quickly slaps his back to cough out his remaining laughter, "is one of my sons!"

"Son?" you ask, head tilting as you think back to that photo on the board. You turn to the board, checking if you were right-- and it was as if fate checked mate you as your eyes locked onto the boy at the far right side of the one completed family picture (you assumed) which had a lot of members.

'Blonde and blue eyes...'

The man, who has just been a disaster a couple of minutes ago, had now regain his composure and grinned at you as if it didn't look like he was losing his balls earlier.

"That's why I was concerned shortcake," he wraps his arm around Nonna (who just snuggles into him), "'cause I'm her son."

'Oof. '

Well, now that you know that they were all their (adopted) children in that picture, you find yourself more at ease in Graves' presence as Nonna chats to him about what happened ever since you showed up, with him humming and commenting from time to time.

As they sat at the side, you continued to do your job, managing the register and the back of the house- sending orders in and plates out.

You did it so much that by the time another table came, you were in auto pilot, customer service mode.

"Hello and welcome! What can I get for y'all started with--"

"Well, aren't you worse for wear."

Hearing that out of place comment made you snap out of your stupor, finally taking in the faces before you.

"The guys from last night!" You gasp, "and Suds' boss!" you glanced at the man with a beard and you could see him smile and nod, reaffirming who he was.

"Yes, that's me-"

Yet he gets cut by the rounding laughter of the table, making you confused, muttered a small, "what?"

"Suds--" The kind man from the other night manages out before falling into another fit of wheezing.

"His name ain't Suds, darlin'," the guy with a rough, scratchy voice talks and you now see that he was wearing a skull mask on the upper part of his face, then a black clothe covering his lower half.

"It's not?"

The man in question groans out, "its Soap you nest-head!"

You clicked your tongue, "Now I'm less inclined to call you that, Suds."

Now even Price chuckles at this exchange, making 'Grickky' looking at him in shock.

"Did you sleep well?"

Price redirects the conversation and you turn to him with a smile and nod, "thank to you sir."

You politely bowed your head and told him how you were gonna pay him back for it, but he just shakes his head- telling that you "shouldn't worry your pretty lil' head over a lil' cash."

"But its not a little amount!" You protested and they looked at you in shock. Thinking that you would just accept it and be done with it.

"I know better than anyone how both kindness and money is precious, so I'll work to pay you back sir."

The determination flaming in your eyes makes them quite stunned at the moment before Price just chuckles, "do as you wish." He says in contentment of the moment, and he was quite satisfied from how you reacted- bubbling and smiling as if you weren't laying sick mere hours ago when they last saw you.

"Cara!"

You hear Nonna call for you and you pause, asking for the four to wait a moment while you walk to see what Nonna needed until you see her approaching in excitement.

"Nonna-?"

"Oh my gosh!" She squeals into your arms, "I can't believe you're meeting all my boys today!"

"Your...boys?"

You stare at her for a moment before redirecting it to the sheepish four who sat there.

Welp... now your proclamations sounds a little awkward...

There was no way she would let her own son pay for lodging at his parent's place.

Even though you've only known Nonna for a couple hours, you were quite sure. A conclusion which made you throw your head back in embarrassment once again.

"just how many sons do you have?!"

A/N: Long chapter for the 2nd one because I got inspired! And also for the warm reception and the attention my silly lil AU for Tf 141 is getting hehe so thank yall <33 Cheers to more chapters to come !!