#this would go nicely into my art of being emotional set

[olympain]

Thank you.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Art of Surrender | LN4

❀˖°𓍼♡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N, dealing with back pain, reluctantly lets Lando, give her a massage. As his hands work through her tension, an undeniable chemistry builds between them. The massage becomes a turning point, revealing unspoken emotions and desires.

❀˖°𓍼♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❀˖°𓍼♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k

❀˖°𓍼♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The evening air was warm as Y/n sat on her couch, wincing every time she shifted. Her back still ached—four days later, and the damn furniture delivery was still haunting her. She’d tried everything: hot showers, over-the-counter painkillers, even a heating pad. Nothing worked. The thought of calling for help crossed her mind, but who would she call? Her friends were busy, and her family… well, they were miles away. She sighed, leaning back into the cushions just as her doorbell rang.

She frowned. Who could that be? Groaning, she pushed herself up and shuffled to the door, peeking through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing there, his signature lopsided grin and those piercing blue/ green eyes. Lando.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing as always. “Miss me?”

She opened the door, trying to keep her expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. “Thought you might need some company. And, let’s be honest, I missed seeing your face.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She stepped aside to let him in, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. Stop it, she told herself. He’s just being nice. Lando had been nothing but persistent since they met a few months ago, always finding ways to show up in her life, always making sure she knew how much he liked her. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not really. Someone like him? It didn’t make sense.

“You look tense,” Lando said, setting the wine and snacks down on her coffee table. “Everything okay?”

“Just my back,” she muttered, sitting back down on the couch. “I had to move some furniture the other day, and now I’m paying for it.”

Lando’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you call someone for help?”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t think of it.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” He moved closer, sitting next to her. “Here, let me help. I can give you a massage.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No, that’s—”

“Come on,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, I’ll go get some massage oil or cream. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Before she could protest further, he was already heading for the door, leaving her gaping after him. “Wait, Lando—!”

“Be right back!” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway.

Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. This is ridiculous. But deep down, a small part of her was relieved. She trusted Lando—maybe more than she wanted to admit. When he returned, she hesitated again, but the determination in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

“Fine,” she mumbled, leading him to her bedroom. “But just the back.”

He laughed softly. “Sure, just the back.”

Y/n disappeared into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. What am I doing? Slowly, she undressed, leaving only a pair of short shorts on. She glanced at herself in the mirror, biting her lip. This felt… intimate. Too intimate. But she climbed onto the bed anyway, lying on her stomach and burying her face in her arms.

“Ready?” Lando’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and she heard him step inside, the soft rustle of the bag he carried. Moments later, she felt the bed dip as he kneeled beside her. His hands, warm and gentle, pressed against her back, spreading the cool massage oil over her skin. She shivered, not just from the temperature, but from the way his touch seemed to ignite something deep inside her.

His fingers worked expertly, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. It felt incredible—too incredible. Gradually, his hands began to wander lower, skimming the sides of her waist, brushing dangerously close to her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she felt a warmth pooling between her legs.

“Relax,” Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words. His hands continued to roam, moving toward her hips, then down her thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Her shorts felt damp, sticking to her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.

But of course, he did.

Lando’s fingers paused near the hem of her shorts, his gaze fixed on the thin fabric clinging to her. He swallowed hard, feeling his own arousal building. Fuck. He hadn’t expected this, but now that he was here, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her.

“Turn over,” he said suddenly, his voice husky.

Y/n blinked, lifting her head to look at him. “What?”

“Your front,” he explained, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want, I can massage that too.”

She hesitated, her heart racing. This was crossing a line—a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross. But the way he was looking at her, the heat in his gaze… it was impossible to resist.

Slowly, she turned onto her back, her cheeks burning. Lando’s eyes scanned her body, lingering on her chest before meeting her gaze. Without a word, he applied more oil to his hands and began massaging her stomach, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers down her spine.

Then, without warning, his hands drifted higher, cupping her breasts. Y/n gasped, her back arching instinctively. Lando’s thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them until they hardened beneath his touch. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

“Look at you,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with desire. “So beautiful.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly see him—the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, the way his body reacted to hers. Her eyes flickered downward, noticing the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Lando followed her gaze and smirked. “Like what you see?”

She blushed, but there was no hiding the truth anymore. “Yes,” she admitted softly, surprising even herself.

His smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Lando’s fingers traced the hem of her shorts, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. “Should I stop?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his lips still close to her ear. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs.

She shook her head, barely able to form words. “No.”

His smirk returned, and his fingers slipped under the fabric, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her body tensed momentarily, but then relaxed as his hands moved higher, massaging the curve of her hips. “You’re so tense,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “Let me help you relax.”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the sensation of his touch. His fingers worked their magic, kneading the muscles in her lower back before trailing down to the small of her back. She could feel the wetness between her thighs growing, a testament to how much he was affecting her.

Lando’s hands paused, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath. “Y/n...” he said, his voice husky. “You’re soaking.”

Her face flushed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gently tugged at her shorts, and she lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his gaze. She felt vulnerable, yet completely safe in his presence.

His fingers grazed her inner thighs, and she trembled. He continued his exploration, moving closer to her core, his movements slow and deliberate. When his fingers finally reached her wetness, she gasped, her hips instinctively arching towards his touch.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He circled her entrance with his fingers, teasing her without giving her what she truly wanted.

She whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Lando... please...”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “Please what?”

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged, sliding a finger inside her slowly, watching her reaction intently. She moaned, her walls clenching around him as he began to move his finger in and out. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and she could feel herself spiraling closer to the edge.

But just as she was about to reach her climax, he pulled his hand away, leaving her yearning for more. She opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Why did you stop?”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Because I want to taste you first,” he whispered before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, mimicking the way he wanted to explore her body.

When he finally broke the kiss, he trailed his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along her collarbone. He paused at her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing until she was squirming beneath him.

But he didn’t linger there for long. His lips continued their journey downward, kissing a path across her stomach before reaching her inner thighs. He gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel his breath on her most sensitive area, and she shivered in anticipation. “Lando...” she breathed, her hands tangling in his hair.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. “Relax,” he said, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his tongue was on her, licking a slow, torturous path up her slit. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her veins. He lapped at her hungrily, savoring every drop of her essence, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her from squirming away.

His tongue flicked over her clit, and she saw stars, her entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. He alternated between swirling his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves and thrusting it inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

She couldn’t hold back anymore. With a final cry, she came undone, her orgasm washing over her in waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until she had ridden out every last tremor, his tongue continuing to tease her even as she collapsed back onto the bed, spent and breathless.

He crawled up her body, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

She smiled weakly, still recovering from the mind-blowing experience. “You’re incredible,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

He grinned mischievously, his hand trailing down her body once more. “And we’re just getting started.”

Y/n lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Lando hovered above her, his eyes dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension between them so thick it was almost tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a slow path down her arm, sending shivers rippling through her. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she still hesitated, her walls firmly in place despite the intimacy they had just shared. “Lando…” she started, unsure of how to respond.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss that made her head spin. When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. I know you feel it too. This.” He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallowed hard, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “I… I do feel it,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it scares me. You scare me.”

His expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Why?” he asked gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because you’re you. You’re this amazing, successful, larger-than-life person. And I’m just… me. I don’t want to get hurt if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Y/n, you’re everything to me. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t matter who I am or what I do. When I’m with you, I’m just a guy who’s completely and utterly in love with this incredible woman.”

Her breath hitched at his confession, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You mean that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Every single word,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

For the first time, she let herself truly believe him. Let herself trust him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered, the words feeling like a release after holding them in for so long.

A wide grin spread across Lando’s face, and he kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotions into it. When they finally broke apart, he chuckled softly. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his tone playful.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Shut up,” she said, smacking his shoulder lightly.

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Make me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. Slowly, she shifted beneath him, her hands sliding down to his waist. She could feel the hardness pressing against his jeans, and it only fueled her courage. “Maybe I will,” she murmured, her voice sultry.

Lando’s breath caught as her fingers grazed the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily.

She smirked, enjoying the effect she had on him. With deliberate slowness, she undid the button of his jeans, then the zipper, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as she slid her hand inside.

Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she savored the way he shuddered at her touch. “You’re so hard,” she whispered, stroking him slowly.

“Only for you,” he managed to choke out, his eyes blazing with need.

She pushed him off of her with a playful smirk, watching as he landed on the bed with a soft bounce. Sliding between his legs, she locked her gaze with his, the intensity in her eyes making his breath hitch. She smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. Lando let out a strangled groan, his hand tangling in her hair as she began to move. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing and tasting, driving him wild.

“God, you’re perfect,” he panted, his hips bucking slightly. “So fucking perfect.”

Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his body. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin. She could feel him twitch in her mouth, hear the way his breathing became ragged.

“Y/n…” he warned, his voice strained. “If you keep going like that, I’m not going to last.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “And what if I don’t want you to?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his length.

Lando cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in her hair. “You’re killing me,” he groaned, but he didn’t stop her when she took him back into her mouth.

Her movements became more fervent, her lips sucking and her tongue caressing him in ways that left him utterly undone. He could feel the pressure building, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge.

“I’m close,” he gasped, trying to warn her again.

But Y/n didn’t stop. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with devotion, and in that moment, Lando felt his control shatter. With a guttural moan, he came, her name on his lips as she swallowed every drop.

When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he pulled her up to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. Lando’s chest heaved as he pulled her up, his hands trembling against her skin. His voice was rough, still catching on the edges of desire. “I want to fuck you so bad, Y/n. But I need a minute to get hard again.”

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she shifted her weight, her thighs pressing against his hips. She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “I can wait. It doesn’t matter how long—whether it’s seconds or minutes—as long as in the end, I get to feel you inside me.”

His eyes darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as her words sent a fresh wave of heat through him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer.

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Good. Then we’ll go out together.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light but electric. “Take your time, Lando. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply, his body already responding to her nearness, her words, her touch. “Fuck, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her gaze locked with his, unwavering, filled with a quiet intensity that made his heart pound. “Show me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his. “When you’re ready, show me exactly what I do to you.”

Lando’s hands tightened on her waist, his breathing uneven as he felt himself hardening beneath her. “I won’t make you wait long,” he promised, his voice rough with urgency. “Not when all I want is to be inside you.”

She smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. “Then take me, Lando. When you’re ready, take me and don’t hold back.”

[scarletemeterio]

Hello!! Can i request for ekko with an reader who likes to draw him a lot and he finds her Sketches on accident? Thank you!!

Secret Sketches (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: slightly suggestive, like just a tiny little bit

Genre: fluff i guess

Word Count: 1k

Reader has no set pronouns

You loved sharing your art with people, especially with the Firelights' leader, but there was a secret sketchbook no one had ever seen, and you wanted to keep it that way. The fact that it was a secret wasn't a secret, pretty much everyone knew it, but no one dared touch it, mostly out of respect but also out of fear for your reaction.

However, every now and then Ekko insisted on seeing it, filled with curiosity.

"Come on, I'm sure that whatever's in it is amazing," he said.

"It's not that, it's just that it's a private thing, Ekko," you reminded him. "No matter how much you insist, I won't show you," you said, giggling.

"Well, it was worth trying," he messed with your hair and you let out a grumpy grunt.

Your relationship with him was the nicest thing you had, and even though you always teased and even flirted with one another, you didn't want to mess things. Things were good, there was no reason to change them. Nothing had actually ever happened between the two of you, but the tension was there all the time. With everything going on in Zaun, you both had other things to worry about.

Still, it was nice to dream sometimes. Nice to dream about you lying on his arms at night, legs wrapped around each other while he played with your hair. Or nice to dream about the mundane things, like cooking together and giving each other massages at the end of a long and tiring day.

Sometimes you shared small moments of peace. This was one of them, both of you in his office just talking about whatever, forgetting about all the horrible things for a while. You enjoyed being with him while he worked, not needing to fill the silence every single time and just took pleasure in his company. It was a good deal too, he worked on whatever it was that got his attention lately, and you could draw in peace. Draw him, specifically. Occasionally, Ekko would ask you what you were working on, but you simply brushed him off.

It was late now, every one else was asleep, but you two were still up, and it was beginning to get a bit chilly.

"I think I'm gonna go find a jacket or something," you told him. "I'll be back in a minute, don't set the place on fire," you teased.

"No promises."

He decided to clean up his desk a bit while you were gone because it was a mess, and in doing so he accidentally spilled some water when he hit a glass. Panic filled him quickly, because some of the water had reached your sketchbook. He grabbed it so it wouldn't keep getting wet and in doing so, some sheets of paper fell to the ground. The boy cursed himself for making such a mess in a matter of seconds and went to pick up the papers. Once he actually saw what he was holding, he paused. It was him in different settings, different angles but always him. He should've stopped himself but couldn't fight his curiosity and actually opened the book, seeing that every single page was filled with his features. Before he could continue going through it, you came back and you saw him.

"What the hell are you doing with that?" You instantly recognized your sketchbook and soon had a mix of emotions inside of you, anger and fear being the most prominent ones.

"I'm sorry I- It was an accident."

"How could going through my private things be an accident?"

"I spilled some water and then some sheets fell on the floor and I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself," he blabbered. The silence was awkward for the first time between you two until he broke it again. "Why me?"

You immediately knew what he was talking about, and there was no way you could evade the question or lie to him. "Ekko...," you said and looked at him. "Please, I don't want to embarrass myself again."

It was like you'd said everything without actually saying anything at all. He knew, and you knew he knew, and there was no going back now.

"So what, you think I'm that good-looking?" He teased and chuckled before getting closer to you. "Can't get me off your head?"

You looked into his eyes and then nervously swallowed. "To be honest, no, I can't," you said, "but only because you're a big dumbass."

He smirked and cut the distance between the both of you, placing his lips against yours. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck while his were on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. "You wanna draw me naked next?" He said against your lips. You chuckled and lightly hit his shoulder before kissing him again, thinking that the jacket you'd brought minutes before was completely useless by now, Ekko could keep you warm for now.

[fima11]

YOUR ART IS SO CUTE AUGH…….. love the way u draw scarabia it makes my heart go 💗💗💗💗💗💗

I am curious if you have any Scarabia HCs… mayhaps Jamikali HCs?

Thank you!!! <333333

tbh I don't have many headcanons for Scarabia, but imo that's the chillest dorm, even with all the parties. Like, have you seen their dormitory? I wouldn't act up if I lived in a comfy place like that too.

But jamikali. Uhhhh

this is my own sort of turkish palace tv drama. More under the cut. It's gonna be long.

I like to imagine their relationship developing after a nice piece of timeskip (despite most certainly having feelings for each other in college), when they finally learn how it is to live apart from each other, growing out of their destructive behaviors at least for a bit.

My main headcanon and maybe the most delusional one that Kalim would mature up with time, getting more independent when Jamil leaves, though without losing his canonic positivity - in fact just growing up.

While Jamil learns how is it to be simplier and less demanding towards other and himself, traveling alone, not setting down anywhrre for too long. Though the main thing is that they cannot in fact forget each other, and break the attachment despite getting used to each other's absence, and their feelings finally getting some particular shape - and it's impossible to fully let go, no matter how hard they (mostly Jamil) try ;)

I rarely think of a particular reasons that could bring Jamil back to Asim household, though I have one little au concerning this matter which includes long distance between them with no communication, and even some kids, so I may share it one day. so I just keep it on the level of flat concept - Jamil returns after traveling, to either serve again or for Viper family matters.

I love to imagine Jamil's confusion and shyness at the sight of even more confident Kalim after a period of being apart from each other, and Kalim being happy to finally make Jamil look at him differently, which he consciously or subconsciously has been keeping as a goal all the time.

For some reasons I feel like Kalim would take lead in their relationship because he seems bolder to me when it comes to making decisions - Kalim just knows what he wants :/

So it's a hard for Jamil to process all the non-casual compliments, gifts and obvious advances (but not rejecting them, still afraid of his own feelings), just like in this post. Under these circumstances I believe Kalim is the one who attached the most, just because I love crazy devotion and loyalty :P (and Jamil is too used to lie to himself to admit his attachment aloud.)

It's a strange concept, but mostly it's just a huge headcanon I always keep in my head when I draw them - an emotional bond that just won't break, no matter if there's distance, time or silence between them.

It's hard for me to imagine them trying each other out during college years - too many predicaments and prejudices, they are too used to each other, and for their relationahip to work out they both need time to emotionaly mature up and... just have a rest from each other.

Anyway loving them endlessly.

it would be easier to just list the goddamn headcanons but I always talk too much I am so sorry

[touchme-teezme]

hi mimi! idk if u take requests but last pick was everything to me like i lovedddd the book that inspired you 😭🥹 can i PLEASE get a san version with the “did you want to watch me burn” poem? just destroy me. my heart is yourssss

This Time.

PAIRING | collegeboy!san x fab!reader

TAGS | arguments, smut with a plot, kissing, oral, angsty unprotected breakup sex, san has great pull out game, and a (sort of?) cliffhanger… again? idk i suck at writing tags and proper endings lolololol

RATINGS | NSFW 18+ (minors pls DNI/if it makes u uncomfortable don’t read it)

SONGS | No One Noticed - The Marías, Not You Too- Dr*ke & Been Like This - Doja Cat

SUMMARY | The breakup for this couple was on the horizon. One of them was in denial, and it’s not you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you all for showing Last Pick a lot of love & anon for enjoying it. since a san version was requested, here ya go :) lmk which member should be next if you'd want me to actually make this into an angsty atz smut series. kinda like the idea they’re all connected?¿ like a smutiverse… im a little tipsy rn writing this part. also if u catch mistakes, no u didn’t. kk bye love uou

+ 💌 click here to see my Love Interrupted series masterlist [ot8] — check out the other parts!

inspired by a quote from Save Me An Orange by Hayley Grace: what more did you want from me? i gave you my heart my soul my body i let you build a home inside of me but you still went to the store and bought a lighter just to set me on fire did you want to watch me burn?

You’re usually an optimist but it wasn’t until San smashed the vase you bought and painted together at that one arts and crafts store that you realized optimism could only take you so far.

A screaming match broke out immediately. Words bounced off the walls, echoing in your small apartment as fingers were being pointed. He followed you around the entire house as you tried to walk away from the conversation, pinging in your ear like a fly.

San gets emotional when he cares. It was the first thing you liked about him when you first started to talk. How nice would it be to be with someone so well in-tune with their emotions that they don’t why away from it?

If only you’d known it would result in this.

The relationship was done for. It had been for a while. He had been far too busy juggling classes, work, and his new friends who seemed to suddenly fill all the time he used to spend with you. You’d barely even seen him in weeks, and when you did, it was like you were fighting for scraps of his attention.

San’s voice cracked as he shouted behind your head. “You think I don’t know I’ve been busy? I’ve been juggling everything, trying to keep it all together, and you—you—think I don’t feel guilty? You want me to just drop everything? Stop hanging out with my friends? Quit school? What do you want from me?”

He was following you now, not letting you get a moment of peace. You forced yourself to focus on the task of cleaning up the shards, trying to block out his words as you looked for the broom around your house.

“Do you think I want this? You think I want to feel like this? You think I want to hurt you? But you keep demanding more from me, and I can’t do it anymore! I can’t just stop living my life to fix yours!”

“Oh fuck off!” You barked back, finally finding the broom that was in an odd spot in your wardrobe (probably because San had placed it there the last time he used it). You were now growing more annoyed.

“Don’t curse at me! Listen to me for goodness sake!”

Your hands trembled around the broom handle, but you marched towards the vase shards and started sweeping, trying not to hear the poison dripping from his mouth. You had given up on fighting—there was no point anymore. He was too far gone, wrapped up in his own world that was so difficult for him to show up.

“You’re too much, alright?” he spat, his voice cracking with frustration. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think. Every time I try to focus on something else, you’re right there, needing something from me. I can’t fix this. I can’t keep being suffocated—“

You dropped the broom.

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time, and in that moment, you never felt like this about him before.

“Do you hear yourself?” Your voice was shaking, but it was steady, sharp. “In that whole rant you just forced me to hear, not once did you mention us—not once did you mention me like i’m not in this fucking relationship with you! Not once did you mention all i’ve done for you, and the only time you did was to insult me!”

San opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stood there, eyes wide, lips trembling.

You stepped forward as if to challenge his speechlessness, your heart pounding in your chest. “What the fuck are you still doing here then?!”

The room fell silent.

And then, out of nowhere, he tried to reach for you.

It was a movement fuelled by panic if he was truly honest, it was a final desperate attempt to fix things without actually knowing how.

He just knew that he had to have you in his arms and you’d melt. His hand caught yours, pulling you closer, but you yanked it away.

He stepped closer, his breath ragged, reaching for you again with a look in his eyes that was pure guilt you knew all too well.

Your stern face broke when he managed to get you in his large strong arms that wrapped around you.

You stood there, shaking, breathing hard, barely able to hold back the tears.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Your cracking voice was muffled against his hard chest.

And then, in his painful silence, he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You did not stop him.

In fact, you couldn’t.

His next kiss was more desperate and frantic than the last, like he was trying to compensate for all the times he had utterly let you down.

When he finally found the self control to pull back, both of you were panting, faces flushed, hearts racing. He looked at you with a mix of fear, guilt, and longing in his eyes. He wiped your damp cheeks, cupping the sides of your face.

"I don’t mean to," He whispered. “I-I swear, everything I said, I-“

You shook your head in denial, wanting to just shut him up with more kisses knowing if you both talked, you’d eventually argue.

For once, you didn’t want to fight. If the relationship was crashing and burning right now, might as well get one last lick out of it, right?

Metaphorically, and quite literally.

San groaned softly into your mouth, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair and snake to the small of your back as he deepened the kiss with his tongue.

"You drive me insane," He breathed against her lips, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes.

It was true, you always had, in the best and worst ways possible. The feeling was mutual as you stared back at him.

He couldn't resist your pull, the way you were in the moment consumed him entirely. His hands roamed your curves, and reached down to grip your ass firmly as he walked you backwards towards the couch.

You let out a soft gasp, your fingers digging into his waist as you let yourself get sat down with him positioned above you. His knee perched up right between your slightly parted legs.

The friction his knee brushing between your legs sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. He could feel your pulse quickening, and your breath hitching as he sucked and kissed the sides of your neck.

Your hands slipped beneath his black shirt, seeking for skin. With a slight eager tug, he took it off without any argument, revealing his lean muscled torso that you did not hesitate to touch and admire knowing it was going to be the last time.

Instead of letting that knowledge crush you or him, with a low moan, he just leaned into your touch.

“Tell me to stop…” He breathed out, hands on your shoulders to steady himself. He struggled to maintain control as his arousal throbbed against the inside of his zipper.

“Keep going.” You replied in a husky whisper.

With a groan, he gave in to the temptation. His tongue met yours, as his hands slid down to your chest to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, having to bite back a smirk when your back arched into his technique.

Your nimble fingers freed him from his jeans. Unbuttoning, and then zipping down before massaging his hard on through the fabric of his underwear. A breath of relief escaped his lips when his throbbing cock was finally freed.

He helped you out of your top, watching you stroke his impressive length in your hands from above. His hands glided down your back and unclasped your bra, letting your breast sit in all its glory.

He was going to take care of you first until your mouth engulfed him without missing a beat.

“O-oh my god.” His hips bucked involuntarily forward as your skilled hand continued to stroke, the dual sensations of her and her fingers wrapped around his member threatening to overwhelm him.

San’s eyes rolled back as you took him entirely into your mouth. His body weight leaning on his forearms that were on either sides of your head, holding onto the back of the couch for dear life.

Your skilled tongue and throat working in tandem to bring him to the brink of madness. The wet heat blanketing his aching cock was almost too much to bear, each bob of her head sent him more and more over the edge.

"Oh f-fuck!” His mouth hung open as he fisted your hair and fought the urge to thrust deeper.

A part of him couldn’t make sense why this was happening now of all times. He could’ve just taken your desperation to touch him for granted but something about it didn’t feel right.

With effort and a hell lot of focus, San gently stopped you before he could cum. He stroked the side of your face when you looked up at him confused. He shot one of the sweetest dimpled smiles at you.

Seeing that dimpled smile light up your face.

With a hand behind your head, he laid you back on the couch gently. Your hands politely stayed on your own chest, cupping them as you watched his next move.

In one swift motion, he tugged down your underwear with your pyjama shorts and tossed them away.

One of your legs get thrown over his shoulder, and he used his other hand to part your leg wider. His head moved down to your glistening sex and his tongue licked a strip up your folds.

Air got caught in your throat. You let out a shaking deep breath through your lips. His hand on your thigh moved up to your chest, intertwining his fingers with your fingers against your racing heartbeat.

You gripped onto his fingers every time he’d do something that sent shockwaves through your body either with his lips, tongue or his nose. He kissed your sensitive clit, alternating his tongue between that and pounding into your entrance.

“San,” You whined, which only encouraged him to keep going. You tilted your chin upwards, facing the ceiling as tears began welling in your eyes. Unclear if it was the pleasure or the sinking feeling in the out of your stomach.

Then you felt that body shock again, jolting you as you let out a loud moan.

You met his eyes. Those cat-like eyes staring back at you between your legs with laser focus before lazily shutting when he turned his head to the side to lap up your slick arousal from the inner part of your thighs.

He got up and took off his underwear before hovering on-top of you, centring his hard shaft just past your entrance as he supported himself up by the armrest behind your head.

His chain necklace to drop down and dangle in your face.

He gazed into your eyes, reaching down to rub your slick folds once more. He leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips as he readjusted his hard dick between your legs. Your hands wrapped themselves in the dip of his waist as your knees pressed against his hips.

“We can’t keep fighting forever,” You told him in a faint whisper.

Leaning down, he distracted you by capturing your lips into a tender loving kiss to slowly pushed in. He felt your teeth on his lip as your walls adjusted to him.

“I know.” Was all he could murmur against your face as a hand cupped one side of your face.

He kept having your lips in between his as he started to move, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm designed to slowly ease into you. Small gasps escaped your lips and you clutched onto his biceps for support while your neck stretched upwards.

“Baby, you feel incredible.” He picked up the pace slightly, his thrusts growing deeper, and more insistent, as he chased the intense feeling coursing through him.

The way your body clenched around his length, the soft gasps falling from your lips.

With your moans of approval, he seized the opportunity to go even deeper and quicken the pace in your wet welcoming heat. He pulled in your mouth for intoxicating searing kisses he couldn’t get enough of.

“I miss you,” You whimpered out the truth between the kisses. “S-so much.”

He snapped forward with new determination accentuated by the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other.

He let go of your mouth to focus on your chest. "I'm right here baby." He mumbled over your breasts as he cupped one in his large hands, brushing over your nipples before reaching down to lick.

He alternates between wet kisses and whirling his tongue, aimed to only give you pleasure. In his defence, he hasn't had the opportunity to do this in a while.

You grabbed a side of his face to look into his lustful eyes. “I really did love you.” You breathed out.

“I love you too.” He replied, too entranced by the moment to catch that single word in your sentence.

You crashed your lips against his. The technique of his kissing made you moan loudly into his mouth, and then against his jaw with your eyes shut when he was hitting the perfect spot over and over.

Your body was tensing up tighter and tighter as the pressure of the inside you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“I’m close,” San panted. “Come for me. Come first.”

As a result of his husky words, your walls clench around him, and your climax comes crashing in. One passionate thrust as he buried himself inside your convulsing sex, the intense orgasm shook your entire body violently.

While your final convulsions faded, you slumped against the couch, panting heavily. Meanwhile, San rode off your enjoyment only to abruptly slip out of you before blowing a load inside you without a condom on.

He released himself from your legs that were wrapped around him and hurried to your nearby bathroom, his hard-on in his hands.

You lay there in a daze, trying to make sense of everything, feeling a mix of confusion and shame. You covered your face with your hands, desperate to hide from the reality of the situation.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up from the leather couch to sit up, its surface sticking a little to your sweaty skin, before you reached for your underwear lying forgotten at your feet.

You managed to get most of your clothes back on when he returned. The sight of him—his broad athletic build and that confident stride—distracted you just long enough for him to lean down and kiss you, his hands gently resting on the side of your neck.

You instinctively covered his hand with your own, locking eyes with him.

“Everything okay?” His voice was soft.

You stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his question sinking in.

He kissed you again, his lips warm and insistent, and for a moment, the thoughts swirling in your head began to fade.

Before you knew it, he lowered himself down onto the floor across from you, wanting to pull you on top of him to straddle him.

“Stop. No more.” you murmured, pushing him away gently.

Your heart pounding as your knees pressed against the hardwood floors when you realised you were already sitting on his thighs.

San sharply sighed, a little disappointed, but he didn’t fight it. He let go of his grip on your waist, and you slowly kicked yourself off him.

The two of you lay on the floor, side by side, your breaths finally slowing after whatever that was. The silence between you wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

He reached for his underwear with his feet, slipping it on slowly, his eyes never leaving you. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was going on.

You turned your head to look at him. His eyes turned to the ceiling, his expression unreadable, distant even though he was right there.

“San,” you began softly, your voice breaking the stillness. “I think we—”

His phone buzzed, cutting through the tension, and he glanced at it with another sigh. You felt the moment slip away as he got up and fumbled for his phone left in his pants by the couch.

“It’s Mingi,” he muttered.

“San,” you tried again, your tone heavier this time, begging for his attention. But he’d already answered the call.

You stayed on the floor, your chest tightening as fragments of their conversation reached your ears.

“Dude, what? I’m in the middle of… Huh? No, I haven’t heard from her,” San said, his tone sharp but tinged with concern. “She’s been dodging everyone since that night at Yeosang’s when you wouldn’t shut up about your conquests.”

Your frown deepened as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. His brows furrowed, his full attention on the call like you weren’t even there.

“Well, maybe you should go check on her then,” San said, leaning back against the couch. “What, come over? Her place or yours?”

A pause, then his expression shifted—confusion, followed by clear exasperation.

San ran a hand through his messy hair. “Fine, whatever. I’ll come over later.” He hung up, tossing the phone onto the floor like it had personally wronged him.

“Mingi needs help with something,” he said it like that was enough explanation.

You stared at him, baffled and angry, “So you’re going?”

He turned to you, guilt flashing briefly in his eyes before he looked away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said quietly.

The words hit you like a slap, but what was worse than the sting was the inevitability that this was always how it would be. You, waiting for scraps of his time, his attention. Him, running off to play hero for everyone but you.

“You always have a choice. You just never choose me.”

Guilt and shame took over his tired expression, “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You shot back. “You couldn’t even let me finish breaking up with you before answering his call.”

“What? Babe, it’s not like that. Look, he really likes her and—“

“Save it,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Since you’re always serious about everyone else, just go.”

He hesitated, his hand hovering near his phone. “You’re being—”

“Go,” you repeated firmly, tears welling in your eyes but your tone unwavering. “And don’t ever come back this time.”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to defend himself, or to stay, but then he stood up. He pulled the rest of his clothes back on, grabbed his phone, and shoved it into his back pocket without a word.

He glanced at you on his way out, his gaze searching for something, anything, to make this easier. He convinced himself he’d call you tomorrow, that this wasn’t really goodbye like the other times you both have tried to end it. He didn’t realize how serious you were this time.

He walked past the shards and the broom and left. The door clicked shut behind him.

[lucabyte]

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

[inspireartnotwar]

Art. Can. Die.

This is my battle cry in the face of the silent extinguishing of an entire generation of artists by AI.

And you know what? We can't let that happen. It's not about fighting the future, it's about shaping it on our terms. If you think this is worth fighting for, please share this post. Let's make this debate go viral - because we need to take action NOW.

Remember that even in the darkest of times, creativity always finds a way.

To unleash our true potential, we need first to dive deep into our darkest fears.

So let's do this together:

By the end of 2025, most traditional artist jobs will be gone, replaced by a handful of AI-augmented art directors. Right now, around 5 out of 6 concept art jobs are being eliminated, and it's even more brutal for illustrators. This isn't speculation: it's happening right now, in real-time, across studios worldwide.

At this point, dogmatic thinking is our worst enemy. If we want to survive the AI tsunami of 2025, we need to prepare for a brutal cyberpunk reality that isn’t waiting for permission to arrive. This isn't sci-fi or catastrophism. This is a clear-eyed recognition of the exponential impact AI will have on society, hitting a hockey stick inflection point around April-May this year. By July, February will already feel like a decade ago. This also means that we have a narrow window to adapt, to evolve, and to build something new.

Let me make five predictions for the end of 2025 to nail this out:

Every major film company will have its first 100% AI-generated blockbuster in production or on screen.

Next-gen smartphones will run GPT-4o-level reasoning AI locally.

The first full AI game engine will generate infinite, custom-made worlds tailored to individual profiles and desires.

Unique art objects will reach industrial scale: entire production chains will mass-produce one-of-a-kind pieces. Uniqueness will be the new mass market.

Synthetic AI-generated data will exceed the sum total of all epistemic data (true knowledge) created by humanity throughout recorded history. We will be drowning in a sea of artificial ‘truths’.

For us artists, this means a stark choice: adapt to real-world craftsmanship or high-level creative thinking roles, because mid-level art skills will be replaced by cheaper, AI-augmented computing power.

But this is not the end. This is just another challenge to tackle.

Many will say we need legal solutions. They're not wrong, but they're missing the bigger picture: Do you think China, Pakistan, or North Korea will suddenly play nice with Western copyright laws? Will a "legal" dataset somehow magically protect our jobs? And most crucially, what happens when AI becomes just another tool of control?

Here's the thing - boycotting AI feels right, I get it. But it sounds like punks refusing to learn power chords because guitars are electrified by corporations. The systemic shift at stake doesn't care if we stay "pure", it will only change if we hack it.

Now, the empowerment part: artists have always been hackers of narratives.

This is what we do best: we break into the symbolic fabric of the world, weaving meaning from signs, emotions, and ideas. We've always taken tools never meant for art and turned them into instruments of creativity. We've always found ways to carve out meaning in systems designed to erase it.

This isn't just about survival. This is about hacking the future itself.

We, artists, are the pirates of the collective imaginary. It’s time to set sail and raise the black flag.

I don't come with a ready-made solution.

I don't come with a FOR or AGAINST. That would be like being against the wood axe because it can crush skulls.

I come with a battle cry: let’s flood the internet with debate, creative thinking, and unconventional wisdom. Let’s dream impossible futures. Let’s build stories of resilience - where humanity remains free from the technological guardianship of AI or synthetic superintelligence. Let’s hack the very fabric of what is deemed ‘possible’. And let’s do it together.

It is time to fight back.

Let us be the HumaNet.

Let’s show tech enthusiasts, engineers, and investors that we are not just assets, but the neurons of the most powerful superintelligence ever created: the artist community.

Let's outsmart the machine.

Stéphane Wootha Richard

P.S: This isn't just a message to read and forget. This is a memetic payload that needs to spread.

Send this to every artist in your network.

Copy/paste the full text anywhere you can.

Spread it across your social channels.

Start conversations in your creative communities.

No social platform? Great! That's exactly why this needs to spread through every possible channel, official and underground.

Let's flood the datasphere with our collective debate.

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: January 30, 2025.

→ NARRATED AUDIO:

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: plausible deniability king hoseok, subtext, dropping slight innuendo with that voice, gentle teasing, double meaning, sexual tension

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

→ A/N: So. Listen. I was out there, freezing my ass off at the bus stop, cursing my life choices because why am I even going to the gym at ungodly hours??? And then—THEN—the bus just had the audacity to drive right past me. Love that. Amazing. Naturally, I did what any rational person would do: opened my notes app and started writing instead of using those 45 minutes to, idk, reconsider my entire existence. And thus, Off-Labels was born. This drabble? It’s about the kind of man who is dangerous in the most insidious way—intelligent, competent, and hiding behind a veneer of plausible deniability like it’s a damn art form. You know he knows what he’s doing to you. You know he’s aware of the effect he has. But can you prove it? No. Because he’s just so nice. So helpful. So unintentionally devastating to your nervous system. It’s honestly sick and twisted and exactly my type. Am I a menace? Absolutely. First installment in what might become a series because apparently I can't stop writing about competent men in medical settings using anatomical terms as foreplay. Will I be taking criticism? Absolutely not. ❤️‍🩹🩺

→ MINI SERIES: NEXT

You don’t believe in stories like in books.

Sure, you like to read them—disappear into them, let them pull you under like a riptide until you forget about deadlines and midterms and the existential dread of being a twenty-something who still doesn’t know what they’re doing.

But that’s all they are.

Stories.

Fantasies about tragic, fated loves and brooding billionaires and dangerous men with wings. You like them because they’re not real. Because it’s fun to pretend, for a little while, that you’re the kind of girl who’s got a winged fae warrior at her feet. Or a CEO husband who calls her darling in an office with floor-to-ceiling windows. Or—God forbid—her hot math teacher, who lets her stay after class for extra lessons.

Or your brother’s best friend’s secret hookup.

Not that you’re thinking about that one.

Not that it would even be your case.

You shift on the couch, burying yourself deeper into the cocoon of your brother’s old hoodie. It’s massive on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the faded fabric smelling like dust and detergent.

Perfect. The ideal uniform for an evening of doing absolutely nothing.

Your e-reader is dead, so you’ve resorted to flipping through some random paperback you found wedged under the coffee table, something with an aggressively shirtless man on the cover. You’re only half-paying attention, your eyes skimming over the words without really absorbing them.

Caleb should be home soon. Probably. He has class—or he says he has class, but you’re not entirely convinced. He’s in that phase of university where it’s mostly networking and group projects and going out more than actually studying.

Not that you care. He does his thing, you do yours.

A sharp knock at the door pulls you out of your haze.

You ignore it. Caleb has keys. If he forgot them, that’s his problem.

The knock comes again. Then the doorbell rings.

You groan, untangling yourself from the blanket and shuffling toward the door with all the grace of a sleep-deprived goblin. Your hair is a mess, your socks don’t match, and you’re fairly certain you have crumbs on your face from earlier. Good. Whoever’s on the other side can suffer.

Except—

It’s not Caleb.

It’s Hoseok.

Oh.

You freeze, hand still gripping the doorknob, brain buffering at the sight of him standing there, all easy confidence and warm eyes and—why does he always look so put together? It’s unfair. He’s in jeans and a hoodie, nothing special, but it fits him just right, and his hair is slightly tousled, like he just ran a hand through it, and—

Stop.

You force yourself to blink, to breathe, to act like a normal human person.

“Uh,” you say, which is a stellar start.

Hoseok smiles. “Hey.”

He has the kind of voice that makes people listen, rich and smooth, the kind that carries even when he’s speaking softly. Which he is now, like he knows you spook easily.

“Caleb’s not here,” you blurt out.

He tilts his head, amused. “Yeah, I figured.”

Right. Obviously. Because if Caleb were here, he’d be the one answering the door.

You scramble for something else to say, but your brain is blank, completely derailed by the fact that he’s here. In your doorway. Looking at you. And you must look insane—your hair sticking up in weird directions, drowning in a hoodie that is definitely not yours.

And he’s still smiling. Patient. Like he has all the time in the world.

You clear your throat, gripping the edge of the door. “Um. Did you—need something?”

Hoseok shifts, rocking back on his heels. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by, see if Caleb was around.” A pause. “And you, too.”

Your brain does an emergency reboot.

You, too.

You, too.

You swallow. “Oh. Right. Cool. That’s—cool.”

His smile twitches, like he’s holding back a laugh.

You want to throw yourself into traffic.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, ever-polite, ever-easygoing.

You should say no. Caleb’s not here, and even though Hoseok is Caleb’s best friend—and a genuinely nice person, thoughtful and reliable and the kind of guy who remembers your favorite coffee order—something about being alone with him makes your stomach twist.

But saying no would be weird.

So you step back. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

He steps inside, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Or maybe you’re just too aware of him—his presence, the faint scent of clean laundry and something warmer, something mellow. He’s always been like this, always drawn your attention whether you wanted him to or not.

You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair like he’s been here a hundred times before. And he has, technically, but not like this. Not without Caleb.

Hoseok glances at the book on the coffee table. “Good?”

You stare at it, momentarily forgetting what book it even is. “Uh. Yeah.”

His eyes flick to the cover. His smile turns amused.

Heat floods your face.

"Interesting choice.”

You freeze. A slow, creeping horror slithers up your spine. Because you didn’t even look at the book before picking it up—you just grabbed whatever you had lying around, assuming it was something boring, something safe—

And now Hoseok is holding a novel titled My Professor’s Secret Temptation.

Oh.

Oh, you actually might be sick.

You scramble for something—anything—to say, but the words wedge themselves somewhere between your throat and your rapidly spiraling embarrassment.

Hoseok flips the book over, scanning the back cover with a curious hum. “Didn’t take you for the forbidden romance type.”

You want the ground to open up. You want to disintegrate.

“I—I didn’t even read it!” you blurt out, a little too fast, a little too desperate. “I wasn’t paying attention, I just grabbed something random, and—and it’s not—”

Hoseok glances at you, amused but not in a mean way, just…interested? "Oh, yeah?”

You nod. Aggressively. “Yes.”

His mouth presses into something thoughtful, like he believes you, but there’s still a flicker of amusement in his expression, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with this new information.

“Huh.” He flips through a few pages idly, head tilting. “He’s pretty bold, huh?”

Your stomach drops. “Who?”

“The professor.”

Your soul leaves your body.

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing, incapable of forming a coherent thought.

Hoseok just nods, easy, unbothered. “Some of these lines are intense,” he muses, flipping another page. “Do real professors talk like this?”

You are going to die. Right here. On the floor.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know.”

He hums again, like he’s genuinely considering it, then—just as casually as everything else—he looks up and says, “You think he’s hot?”

Your heart stops.

Not in a teasing way. Not in a mean way. Just…like it’s a normal question. Like this is just an easy, natural conversation between two people who absolutely do not need to be having this conversation.

Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

Hoseok’s lips twitch, but it’s not a smirk, not a knowing smile—just quiet amusement, like this whole situation is genuinely kind of funny, and he doesn’t think it’s a big deal at all.

“Relax,” he says, closing the book with a soft thump. “I won’t tell Caleb.”

It’s so casual. So reassuring.

Like he really, really isn’t trying to mess with you.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Hoseok sets the book down with deliberate care, spine aligned parallel to the edge of the coffee table like he’s arranging museum artifacts. Your traitorous eyes track the flex of tendons in his wrist—medical intern hands, steady and precise, the kind that’ve probably held beating hearts in ORs. You bite the inside of your cheek until copper blooms.

He glances at the sofa.

You glance at the sofa.

Three cushions. Two throw pillows. Seventy-two inches of fabric that suddenly feels like the Grand Canyon between acceptable and catastrophic.

“Mind if I…?” He gestures to the spot beside your abandoned blanket nest, already moving before you nod.

The springs creak faintly as he sinks into the middle cushion, thighs spreading in that effortless way men do—knees wide, elbows propped, phone balanced on his lap. You sit next to him—two cushions away—and watch his thumb scroll through messages, the screen’s blue light catching the silver ring he always wears on his index finger. Surgical steel, he’d told you once when you’d asked. Sterile. Practical.

Practical.

Practical like the way his left knee now brushes the edge of your blanket. Practical like the faint cedar-and-disinfectant scent of his cologne. Practical like the half-inch of skin exposed when his hoodie rides up as he stretches his arms behind his head.

Don’t look.

You look.

Stop looking.

He shifts, a subtle roll of his hips that has no business being this distracting. The movement pulls the denim taut across his thighs, and you try—really, genuinely try—to keep your eyes anywhere else. The ceiling. The floor. The stack of medical textbooks by the TV. Anything but the way his thumb now absently traces the inner seam of his jeans.

“Told Caleb I’d wait,” he says, tilting his head toward you. The motion makes his throat work—Adam’s apple bobbing, chin catching gold in the lamplight. “Movie night. You’re welcome to join, if you want.”

Your tongue feels like it’s been replaced with felt. “I—I have… readings.”

“Readings.” His mouth shapes the word like it’s fascinating.

“For… neuroanatomy.” You gesture vaguely toward your backpack slumped by the TV stand, half-buried under a sweatshirt you’ve been using as a pillow. “Midterm next week.”

He hums, low and considering. “Limbic system?”

“Hippocampus. Amygdala. All the… emotional bits.”

“Ah.” His smile softens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “The parts that make you want to throw textbooks at walls.”

You blink. “You… remember?”

“Your first-year meltdown over the cranial nerves? Yeah.” He chuckles, warm and rasping. “You called them ‘twelve little traitors’ and threatened to switch to art history.”

Heat crawls up your neck. You’d forgotten he’d been there that night—Caleb dragging him along for a pizza run, finding you knee-deep in flashcards and tears. Hoseok had quietly made tea while Caleb joked about selling your cadaver lab notes on eBay.

“Still think about it sometimes,” you mutter, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “Art history sounds peaceful. No one dies in art history.”

“No,” he agrees. “But you’d miss this.”

“Miss what? The sleep deprivation? The existential dread?”

“The way your nose scrunches when you’re trying to memorize Brodmann areas.”

Your hands freeze.

He’s looking at you now—not the performative eye contact of someone making conversation, but the kind that pins you in place. Clinical. Observant. Like he’s cataloging your reaction.

“I don’t… scrunch,” you say weakly.

“You do.” His knee nudges the blanket again. Accidentally. Probably. “It’s cute.”

The air conditioner kicks on. You count the vents in the ceiling. Eight. Eight is a safe number. Eight is not the number of times you’ve imagined him saying that word in different contexts.

Cute.

Cute.

Cute.

Your lungs forget how to oxygenate.

Hoseok’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, then sighs. “Caleb’s running late. Some study group thing.”

“Oh.”

“You hungry?”

“What?”

He’s already standing, rolling his shoulders in a stretch that pulls his hoodie taut across his chest. “I’ll make ramyeon. You like the kimchi kind, right?”

You stare.

He’s in your kitchen now, rummaging through cabinets with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times. Which he has—game nights, birthday parties, that one time Caleb got food poisoning and Hoseok stayed over to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.

But this is different.

This is him pulling two bowls from the shelf you can’t reach without a step stool. This is him filling the kettle with exactly 500ml of water because he knows your stove runs hot. This is him glancing over his shoulder to ask, “Soft or firm noodles?” like it’s a question that matters.

“Soft,” you croak.

He nods, turning back to the counter. You watch his hands—capable, unhurried—tearing seasoning packets with his teeth. The steam fogs his glasses when he leans over the pot, and he pushes them up into his hair, revealing the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow.

Bike accident, he’d said when you’d asked. Twelve years old. Thought he could jump the curb like X-Games.

You’d dreamed about that scar for weeks afterward.

“Here.” He sets the bowl in front of you, chopsticks balanced across the rim. “Careful, it’s hot.”

You murmur thanks, staring at the swirling red broth. He sits closer this time—one cushion away instead of two. His knee brushes yours when he leans forward to blow on his noodles.

Accident, you tell yourself. Always accidents.

The TV murmurs in the background, some nature documentary about deep-sea creatures. Hoseok asks about your classes, and you answer in staccato sentences, hyper-aware of the way his sleeve brushes your arm when he reaches for the water glass.

“—and Dr. Park’s lectures are killing me,” you hear yourself say, chopsticks hovering over uneaten noodles. “She goes so fast, and the diagrams…”

“Want me to quiz you?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint in his eye—the same one he gets when Caleb challenges him to Mario Kart. “I aced neuro last year. Could walk you through the basal ganglia.”

“You’re… busy.”

“Not really.” He sets his bowl aside, rolling up his sleeves. Your pulse thrums at the reveal of his forearms—dusting of dark hair, veins mapping paths you shouldn’t be tracing. “C’mon. Hit me with your worst.”

It’s a mistake.

You know it’s a mistake even as you fetch your notes, even as he pats the space beside him. Even as his shoulder presses against yours, radiating heat through three layers of fabric.

“Okay.” He scans your color-coded flashcards. “First question. What structure connects the hippocampus to the mammillary bodies?”

“F-fornix,” you stammer.

“Good.” His finger taps the next card. “Main neurotransmitter in the substantia nigra?”

“Dopamine.”

“And loss of dopamine here causes…”

“Parkinson’s.”

“Nice.” He shifts, knee pressing into yours. “Now point to your amygdala.”

You freeze. “What?”

“On your head. Show me where it is.”

“I—it’s—it’s medial temporal lobe, so…” You hover a hand near your right temple, acutely aware of his gaze tracking the movement. “Here? Ish?”

His chuckle vibrates through the couch. “Ish.”

“Shut up, I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You glare at him. He grins back, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and something in your chest cracks open.

“Medial,” he says softly, reaching over to adjust your hand. His fingers graze your wrist—brief, clinical, devastating. “Deeper. Protected.”

You stop breathing.

The documentary narrator drones on about bioluminescent jellyfish. Hoseok’s thumb brushes your pulse point.

Accident.

Always accidents.

Then his phone rings.

You jerk back like you’ve been shocked. Hoseok answers with a calm, “Yeah?” while you stare at your knees, pretending your entire nervous system isn’t short-circuiting.

“Caleb’s downstairs,” he says, standing. “Forgot his keys again.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He pauses, head tilted. For a horrifying moment, you think he’ll call you out—on the shaking hands, the flushed cheeks, the way you’re clinging to a pillow like it’s a life raft.

But he just smiles. Gentle. Endless. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

You collapse sideways onto the couch, pressing your face into the cushion that still holds the warmth of him. Somewhere in the hallway, the elevator dings. Laughter floats up from the parking lot.

Four years.

Four years of this.

Four years of almosts and maybes and don’t be stupid, he’s just being nice.

Your phone buzzes. A text from Caleb:

𝐡𝐚���𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?? 𝙽𝚎𝚛𝚍. 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎?

You type no with trembling fingers.

The couch creaks as you curl into yourself, knees to chest, forehead pressed against the spot where his ring had left a faint indentation in the upholstery.

Deeper.

Protected.

Somewhere in your medial temporal lobe, dopamine fires for all the wrong reasons.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[ceratedfish24]

Thoughts on Scott and Impulse?

Hello Anon! Sorry I took so long to answer this one. I have strong feelings about Scottpulse, so I wanted to be able to answer this ask in a way that conveyed my feelings properly. However, with traveling to and from Thanksgiving backing up a couple of asks and then going straight into my exams afterwards, I haven't had a lot of time to think this one through.

Scottpulse is the physical manifestation of a warm hug. Those two are fairy lights and pillow forts and the default hosts of Friendsgiving for the Americans.

Impulse would get caught up in how pretty Scott is all of the time. He can't wrap his head around how Scott looks so beautiful in every lighting at every angle. He's just so photogenic all of the time. Impulse isn't a big picture taker, but he takes most of the photos Scott posts on social media. Now, Scott knows that he's pretty. He better be pretty. He puts a lot of effort into looking nice, and he enjoys the attention. However, Impulse is so earnest about how gorgeous he finds Scott to be, and it's his sincerity and emotional vulnerability that makes Scott coy.

Scott is the type to have a panic attack during a horror movie, while Impulse acts tough and big and strong. Meanwhile, Scott is totally calm and comfortable during True Crime shows, while Impulse is completely horrified the whole time. Impulse is all "this is REAL LIFE!! You hate the fictional ones, but this is REAL" and Scott's like "yeah but sometimes it just be like that :)".

Not a day goes by where Scott isn't blown away by Impulse's technical knowledge. He loves to watch Impulse work, and Impulse loves to talk Scott through what he's doing. Scott thinks that Impulse's intelligence is so very attractive, even though Scott, himself, has absolutely no idea what's going on the whole time.

Impulse has talked on the Imp & Skizz podcast about wanting to get really into decorating his home for the holidays, especially since he still has young kids. I can imagine Scott being so excited that Impulse wants to decorate and asking Impulse to make a list of everything in his vision. Then, Scott and Impulse buy some of those big blow-up decorations and DIY a bunch of decorations. They're very proud of it.

Additionally, I've seen some art of Wild Life Episode 7 Impulse in blue and orange as a superhero costume, and it's the same shades that Scott picked for his Transporter New Life SMP character, which is also a character that teleports and swaps places with people. All I'm saying is.... boyfriend clothes :)

Most of the time, Impulse is pretty mild when flirting with friends, but I think he would be a very romantic partner to Scott. It might not be entirely in his nature, but he knows how much Scott really appreciates a big gesture now and then. The first time Impulse set up a big thing, it was a romantic dinner with Scott's favorite scented candles, a home cooked meal he knew Scott would like, and a nice bottle of wine. He wore a black button up with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows and brown dress pants. Scott very much had a "am I being seduced right now" moment when he walked in.

Elle (Scott's cat) and Prim (Impulse's dog) love each other. They're attached at the hip. They always greet both Impulse and Scott whenever they get home regardless of whether or not Impulse and Scott have come home together or separately.

They fret over each other like mother hens when one of them is sick. "What are you doing out of bed?!" "Here, this will boost your immune system." "If you need anything, text or call me immediately. No problem is too small. It's what I'm here for." Homemade soup is their love language.

Impulse loves Pitch Perfect and Taylor Swift. I know Scott loves Taylor Swift, and I have no doubt that he's a Pitch Perfect fan. They would listen to Pitch Perfect and Taylor Swift songs all of the time.

Socially, Scott and Impulse are Yin and Yang. Preferring to spend a most of his time with one or two people, Impulse is a little on the quieter side, while Scott tries to spend a little bit of time with everyone. Combined, they get ALL the gossip.

I don't know how to explain this one, but I just feel like the curtains in their bedroom are dark purple and completely opaque. I am extremely set on this headcanon for no reason. I will die on this hill. Sunlight shines in through slivers between the curtains, creating hard shadows that really bring out the colors of the room in the morning. In contrast, Impulse's hair is so soft under Scott's fingers.

I cannot explain why, but I am extremely dead set on their colors being royal purple and gold. That's their wedding color theme. I literally cannot fathom them as any other colors.

Thank you for the ask!!🩵🩵🩵

[greendest1ny]

What would happen if Garmadon turned into a dragon..? How would Lloyd react? How would Garmadon react?

A doodle for my personal iteration of the idea

AAA THAT ART IS AMAZING RUCKER AUSGEJSUSGE HOLY SHIT,,, THAT IS LITERALLY EXACTLY HOW I HEADCANON DRAGON GARMADON TO LOOK AS WELL AHGSJEUSGENSJSV

personally, i think that garmadon would have mixed emotions. he's pretty firmly established himself as an oni, what he perceives to be a destroyer, and he has a bad past with forced transformations, especially into dragons. at first he would try everything to transform back into his usual form, and once that fails, he'll sulk and try to stop himself from having a panic attack. i think he would find it difficult to control his new body as well, so he'd constantly be crashing into things and accidentally hurting himself.

lloyd would be a mixture of shocked, confused, and slightly amused. seeing his father as this huge, pouting dragon stumbling around the monastery's stables was pretty funny until he realized that his dad hadn't done so on purpose. i think he would stay with garmadon in the monastery's stables to keep him company until they could find something to help him change back, since garmadon felt understandably depressed from having his body change so drastically without his consent again.

though, once garmadon got used to being a dragon, he did take lloyd on multiple impromptu dragon rides. at first, lloyd was mildly terrified, since he didn't quite realize what garmadon was doing and didn't know if they'd go back to the monastery. once he realized that garmadon was just stretching his muscles and wanted to bring lloyd along, he began to genuinely enjoy the quiet time he got with his father, gliding through the skies of the merged lands and watching the sun set below the horizon, leaving the sky pink and orange. garmadon loved flying, especially floating lazily through the sky with his son on his back, doing the bare minimum to avoid the clouds. though on a few occasions when he found himself particularly restless, he'd go on midnight flights by himself, flying recklessly until he ran out of energy.

he probably hated sharing the stables with the other dragons, and found himself very territorial of the cavern he'd holed himself up in, only letting lloyd in because of a lack of trust for the other ninja. he would've gathered soft materials and made himself a nest to mope in, his tail laying over his snout. lloyd didn't mind too much, since he liked being able to be alone and rant to his dad, though most of the time garmadon was hiding his head to try and block lloyd out since he talked so much.

though garmadon could also get particularly affectionate at times if lloyd did something nice for him, like scratching a place garmadon couldn't reach, or bringing him his favorite food that he could hunt for. he'd blow soft puffs of smoke at lloyd, and nose at him gently, before eventually licking his cheek in the way a cat grooms their kittens. he'd also very gently pick lloyd up in his jaws, or curl his body around his.

he'd also chew on his legs since he was pretty stressed out, so eventually Lloyd gave him the biggest tree trunk he could find to chew on instead.

his roars were extremely loud, which the ninja learned when a snake accidentally made its way into the dragon stables. he also hadn't lost his destruction element, as more than a few repairs had to be made in the stables during this time.

overall; he'd be a silly overgrown reptile until they managed to get him back into his usual form, then he'd just be a silly little oni guy. he'd occasionally shapeshift back into his dragon form, just to mess with lloyd

thank you for the ask and the AMAZING art rucker :DDD

[hana-no-seiiki]

REJECTION

YANDERE! IDOL! OC! (EVE) x IDOL! READER BLURB (ft. new ocs!)

Before we start, I’m excited to announce that I’m finally starting an HNSVerse webtoon/comic series w/ our starting story ( being the one Eve/Jisoo is featured in ) Love ♡ Multiplied ! Invasion of Your Heart this fall. Hope to see you guys during its release ehe.

If you’re new to my blog, go ahead and check the tag hns.eve for more works of him, or check out my master list.

Without further ado, here’s Eve’s first ‘solo’ fic! Enjoy!

warnings: yandere themes (obsessive love, violence, unreliable narrator). mentions of alcohol abuse/alcoholism. incel/nice guy jisoo. profanity.

status: unedited

©️ both the art and story belong to me, please do not redistribute, repost, translate or share without credit/permission.

this particular fic is safe for minors (16+) so no mdni on this folks. feel free to enjoy.

[previous fic / prequel to this fic]

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like you that way.”

Jisoo never truly knew the power of words til he heard you after his confession.

He prepared months in advance, with a dedication that was unusual to him at the time.

He picked the perfect venue, the one convenience store you two always ate onigiri at. He picked the perfect time, sunset — to really set the mood — and a week after monthly examinations so that emotions were not running too high. He spent hours, days, maybe even weeks just agonizing over the words to choose when he finally poured his feelings out. He even prepared for times after the

Throughout his whole time as a trainee, nothing felt as bad as the dejection your words gave him.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re more of a dad to me . . .” He saw your eyes flick left and right, clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement despite the plan he meticulously concocted.

Still he could not control the poison from injecting itself within the crevices of his inflection, his delivery coming out as awfully sour — maybe even petty, “A dad? You’re older than me.”

“Yeah, a dad friend. You’re the more mature one between us and . . . I just — I just can’t see you romantically.” If the damage wasn’t enough, you ended your explanation with an emphasis. “Ever.”

You then grabbed your belongings and left. Though, being the polite and kind person you were, you made sure to at least give him a farewell.

Jisoo sighed, looking up towards the convenience store ceiling lights. The sting from the bright luminance distracted him only a little bit before his mind went back to you. Consumed by his thoughts, his heart suddenly began beating a million times a second. A sudden adrenaline rush overcame him.

If you didn’t like him because of his personality, he’ll just go ahead and change that up a bit.

The day right after, Jisoo found himself doing something he would have never even thought of. It was amazing how much you made him realize and change. It was actually why completely fell in the first place.

Though, the changes before were natural and a bit too slow. Jisoo needed to have you as his as soon as he possibly could. And so, change had to happen now and under his jurisdiction.

You weren’t present that day, so it wasn’t too out of the ordinary to follow a couple of trainees out when lessons concluded. Usually he was completely stuck to your side and your side alone. Conversation didn’t come naturally to him, as such friends don’t either.

It took him a few minutes to man up and a long, deep breath to finally attempt getting one of the trainee’s attention.

Daehyun was his name, Jisoo thinks. When getting the former’s attention he opted to tug the guy’s sleeve just to be safe.

“What’s up? Oh, it’s you. ” Daehyun turned around. His silver eyes sparkled underneath the late afternoon’s sunlight. He was one of if not the best dancer in Celestial Entertainment. In addition to that, he was known for charming personality and magnetic stage presence.

Frankly, Jisoo only saw him as annoyingly bright and cheery. They were exact opposites. They fought on a daily basis.

But that was exactly why Jisoo needed him in particular.

“You’re childish.” Jisoo began.

Daehyun’s jaw goes slack at this cool, raven haired giant’s audacity. Most of the time he’d come back with a retort but he was utterly drained from practice. “Ah. . .Okay then. . . Well I gotta go — “

Daehyun jerked his arm away, but that only prompted Jisoo to fully grab him by the bicep, “Teach me.”

“Sorry, I think I’m misunderstandiny you. You want me to teach you how to be childish?“

Jisoo nodded vigorously, “I want to be a better idol. And . . . a better fellow trainee. Listen. I’ve been a terrible person to everyone here. I just want to be better.”

Daehyun doesn’t answer for a long time. Maybe even minutes pass before he did. At least, enough time for the trainee walking alongside him to realize his partner wasn’t near him anymore.

His jaw was still wide open.

“Wow, points for self-awareness yo. Finally.”

“Bold words for someone in punching range.” Jisoo lets go of the shorter man’s arm and crosses his. An eyebrow raised.

“Fine, fine. Guess your short temper hasn’t gone anywhere. Time for Being Chill 101, yeah?” Daehyun then shouted to his companion, an even shorter guy that Jisoo dreaded asking help from. But he was desperate. Beggars can never be choosers. “Hayate! C’mere! Jisoo needs a lil help!”

“Eeehhhhh—?! Jisoo? Asking for help? The gods have answered our prayers!”

Jisoo soon realized that he asked help from a bunch of hooligans.

If he faces rejection again after all this trouble, he might just murder a man.

“Hey.” You walked towards Jisoo with your usual smile.

“Heyyy!” He greeted back. Earning a confused look from you as you sat beside him.

You chuckled at his strange demeanor. Well, maybe it wasn’t so strange. You knew Jisoo could be quite awkward at times. Considering you haven’t seen each-other for months by now, he must feel weird talking to you all of a sudden. Especially after what you did last time. “What has gotten into you?” You asked. It was either your earlier theory or the effect of him hanging out with other people. You heard he started spending some more time with other trainees. Even going on drinking sprees with large groups. You didn’t approve of such activities but were too busy to scold him on the topic lately.

But apparently both of your guesses were ‘wrong’ as he had answered, “Huh? Me? Pffft. Nothing. Justa — think I drank too much coffee.”

You could smell the stench of soju and beer in his breath now that you were closer. “Right. I just wanted to say that we can still hang out you know. Doesn’t mean that I rejected you that we can’t talk anymore.”

“Oh, sorry! Sorry. Did it feel like I was avoiding you? I was just busy with Idol Image training.”

“Idol Image training? I thought you hated those lessons.”

“Ya know me. Indecisive and impulsive as always.”

Jisoo grinned at you. But all you could do was cringe out of pity and guilt.

Apparently the guilt you felt wasn’t enough however as you decided that it was now or never to rub some salt into gaping hole of a wound.

“Almost forgot. I have to tell you something. I got a deal to be a solo artist.”

“Solo what now? I thought we were debuting together.”

“Looking at how you’re dealing with my rejection. I think it’s safe to say that us working and living together won’t go too well. I don’t want to lead you on. We’re friends. Nothing else. Sorry if I did so before.”

You didn’t even let him show you how much he’d improve. How much he worked on his way with words and conversation. Before he even had the chance to show his work you had not only rejected him once again but extinguished any hope from forming.

For once in these past few months when Jisoo had been the most talkative he had ever been in his life, he found himself speechless again.

“Soo?”

“I’m . . . proud of you. Really.”

The awkward air was too much for your to bare, so you left right after. Not a goodbye or even a wave.

Instead he watched as you swiftly made your exit. A frown laced your exquisite features.

He then spotted a man. He looked quite a bit older than you. Elegant and refined, he wore a classic black suit with a long coat draped on his back. Short leather gloves that no doubt hid hands as attractive as his own face. His hair was somehow darker than the one Jisoo was born with.

But what struck the young trainee the most was the man’s pine green eyes. It was like a forest one could easily get lost in. A cliche description he knew. But it was the best he could think of.

Jisoo doesn’t realize the trance he was in until the man suddenly turned straight at him —

— and smirked.

People often saw Jisoo leave early during drinking parties. They chalked it up to his shy nature and he didn’t really have a good tolerance.

In reality it was mostly because he found a perfect victim to vent out his frustrations on that night.

It was usually a person too drunk to even understand or realize what was going on.

“Useless.” He muttered, kicking the random man’s stomach before the latter curled up in the floor in pain.

“Stop! Please stop!”

Jisoo scoffed at his protest. His red eye held no light as he continued his ministrations. This time stomping on the stranger’s cheek. “Utter piece of shit.”

The man stops protesting. All that could be heard in the cold chill of the night, was sounds of harsh impacts and Jisoo’s complaints and self deprecating words.

“Too mature? Bah. Bet that was all a fucking lie. They just couldn’t fuck a pathetic piece of shit like me.” Jisoo gave one last stomp, aiming specifically towards the man’s hazel eyes that reminded him of the person that took you.

Wait.

Eyes. Green Eyes.

That man was the CEO of Celestial Entertainment. A man known to be cut-throat and ruthless. A man who’s infamous for his apathetic nature regarding business. He probably saw your potential and thought that putting you in a group would dim it down.

Ace.

That’s it! You didn’t want to actually go solo. Jisoo understood now. Why was he so stupid?

You were just forced by that smug-faced bastard.

He leaned down, happily whispering in a sing-songy voice to his victim. “Thanks man. You really helped.”

“Woah.” A familiar cheerful voice resonated from behind him.

Jisoo froze.

He was done for. He was going to jail. This was it.

No, he had to calm down. Think rationally. He studied for this goddamn it.

Jisoo slowly spun his head. The happy expression on his face was instantly replaced with a horrified one. A look of confusion, fear and sadness. “Daehyun - 형 . . . he . . he came unto me— “

“Shit bro. No worries I got you covered.”

With rejection came realization. With charm came blind support. And with the right words and proper delivery, any person could be swayed.

“Wanna go drink after this?”

“You paying?”

Jisoo wished, for the good of everyone else and himself, that this green-eyed monster would not freely give rejection as you did.

[ TRANSLATIONS ]

형 - hyeong - older brother (not literal). honorific used by men towards those who are older (also men).

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[slashv1xen]

*kicks open door** GROSS CREEPY REDNECK MAN!?

No but seriously Otis is my guilty pleasure character and I need him with a 'tomboy' reader (aka a basic rural southern woman (It'd be nice if you could include her being oddly feminine despite all the hunting and the cursing and the fighting: Like she calls him a cunt then goes and bakes a bunch of sweets or goes off to work on a dress tailoring project XD))

i like the way u think ;) also otis does NOT have enough fanfics/headcannons written about him and it’s actually a crime

i feel like otis has two types of girls: the same (tomboy like u mentioned) or the opposite (hyper feminine girl from the city).

i also think that when he stumbled upon u he had the only intention to kill u like other victims, but something keeps him from doing so (that’s up to u anonie). and i think it sealed the deal after u got along with his family (helping mama clean up around the house + doing baby’s hair for ex.) after keeping u locked up in his house for months. he’s also definitely a family man, so he appreciates it.

like otis, u have a smart mouth on u (which otis thinks is cute only to a certain degree, going further than that and u wish u hadn’t opened ur mouth in the first place). nonetheless, otis still loves u, and thinks ur cussing and smart mouth makes u all the more loveable.

because u happen to be a tomboy, when u do traditionally more girly things/have girly hobbies it surprises him, but he doesn’t hate it (in fact he thinks it’s cute but he would never say that out loud), which makes u a combo of both fem and masc (best of both worlds - his words not mine).

one shot 💗

“yes!” you shouted as the bullet that shot from the rifle hit the deer in the head, otis grumbling (but you knew he was proud of you). the two of you had a bet on who could shoot prey first, and you won. “pay up baby!”

otis rolled his eyes with a cocky grin on his face as a slapped a scrunched up $10 bill in your hand. “i was just going easy on you, i could easily beat you next time.” he yelled as you walked away giggling with the money, waving him off. “yeah, yeah!”

as the both of you made it into the house you noticed that otis’s air around him was tense. you frowned slightly but didn’t say anything, after all he hated speaking about his emotions, or just hated talking about emotions in general (it didn’t help he was practically a pro at hiding his emotions). then it clicked in your head as he roughly put his rifle down. ‘is he annoyed he lost the bet? i wouldn’t have picked him as the sore loser, petty type.’ you chuckled, finding it a little cute, but you still didn’t want him sulking around.

suddenly an idea came into your head, and immediately you began working, knowing that this would surely cheer him up.

after around 2 hours you knocked on his door, and he muttered that you could enter. you did, and set a warm tray on his bed. he was sitting at his desk, working on some art project (he’s always got some art project to do). he smelled the air and turned to the bed, and his eyes lightened up for a second before a confused expression emerged onto his face.

“cookies? what’d ya do this for?” he rose an eyebrow, wondering if this was a ruse or something. you tsked, annoyed he didn’t understand the gesture, but you explained it to him either way. “well i noticed you seemed a bit annoyed for losing the bet, and i thought this would make you feel better.” you smiled, feeling proud of yourself.

���hm, didn’t pick you for a baker type’a girl.” he mumbled, inspecting the cookies. you scoffed before his eyes met with yours. “y’know, this is unnecessary. i’m not even mad, you’re seeing into things that aren’t there.” he said, speaking up louder. you were annoyed at this reaction. you spent 2 hours baking him cookies (he has a big sweet tooth) to cheer him up and this is the thanks you get.

“fine, i’ll just take these back and give them to someone who’ll actually appreciate them and won’t be a dick about it. maybe baby, or tiny.” you grabbed the tray before you felt otis’s calloused hands grip your wrists, forcing you to set the tray down.

“hey baby, don’t be like that. y’know i didn’t mean it like that, i appreciate the effort, i do. i’m just surprised, okay?” he looked genuine and his eyes met yours. you were waiting for him to say sorry, but the way he his, he probably wouldn’t. you sighed, not saying anything. he sighed as well, and with all his strength, he mumbled something. “…sorry.”

you’re eyes lit up when he said this. otis driftwood, saying sorry? that was a first. suddenly a grin flew onto your face as you hugged him and laughed.

“now, stop that bad mood of yours and let’s eat these cookies before they get cold.”

tysm for this request, i had so much fun writing it! i’m sorry if this wasn’t up to ur standards it was a challenge to write and i wanted it to get out asap. if u have any more please send them in, i would love to hear them x

[momtaku]

Excerpts from Shingeki Fly

I finally had time today to look closely at my copy of Shingeki Fly. I used my cell phone to translate bits of the interviews, so mileage may vary, but I am fairly confident the gist is more or less correct.

About the Shingeki Fly Color Art Book

Since Isayama prides himself on not being an excellent artist, he wanted the color art book to highlight the work Mr. Nakao, his colorist since the beginning of the series.

I really like this reflection regarding Mr. Nakao on his first chapter of Attack on Titan:

This is the first color manuscript that a presumptuous amateur, a newcomer who doesn't really know how to hold a pen left or right. The composition, panel layout, and everything else is terrible, but the way you colored it so nicely made me think that maybe I can make a living as a manga artist, and that manga doesn't have to be created by one person alone. I remember feeling hopeful that I would be able to participate in the unknown series that was about to begin.

Isayama's experience at Anime NYC in January 2022:

Isayama talks about how happy he was to visit Manhattan. Because he can't be normal for two seconds, he mentions that seeing the skyscrapers at night reminded him of the 1998 GODZILLA movie.

He also talks about the fan panel. My translation app says something like this: By actually seeing the crowd I was able to realize that Attack on Titan,'' which I had been drawing while holed up in my room in Tokyo, was connected to people far away from Japan and overseas. I was very happy to be able to see each fan's face and think, ``How happy are they?''

(I was able to attend that fan panel in person so I can attest how emotional he was by seeing us all there.)

Isayama's experience at Anglouleme in France in January 2023:

Being in France made him feel very far away from Japan because the city and architecture were so different from what he was used to. He described walking on the streets by the Eiffel tower in the middle of the night as thrilling.

While he set the landscape of Attack on Titan as French, German and Italian architecture, he understands now it was all from his Japanese perspective. Seeing the city is person was completely different from what he'd imagined.

How it felt drawing Levi after such a long time

Here is something I didn't know. At first Isayama was going to write a prequel set 100 years before the main story, but after meeting the fans in France he realized the idea of a one shot was to make them happy. Instead of an original idea, he settled the tea cup story, which is something he'd intended to write but had never had the chance.

He said is was surprisingly easy to draw Levi again after such a long break. The only thing he really had to think about is what Levi would sound like as a 10 year old.

"Bad Boy" was also his first time drawing manga on an iPad. Because he wasn't used to it, he had three assistants helping him. I really want a good translation of this bit because it seems funny. He mentions something about how what should've been digital remote work was more of an analog training camp. He said is was fun to reminisce about his "war era" when he would work while chatting with his assistants about trivial matters.

[nebulaofbangtan]

here's a lil Hualian fic I wrote- credits to @scrapimmortal for the idea!! Basically Xie Lian goes to get a tattoo, Hua Cheng is the tattooist, Xie Lian has a minor freak out, snacks and nice weather. I hope you enjoy 𓂃 ִֶָ𐀔 genre: fluffy fluffiness tw's: tad bit of swearing, mentions of death, angst if you squint and tilt your head from a distance, self harm, sh scars, mentions of suicide word count:

Summer had bloomed bright and hot, but that day there was a thankful breeze that cooled Xie Lian's nerves. He'd gotten tattoos before, so it wasn't that he was scared of; more just the 'talking to the tattoo artist' bit. It's an intimate thing, you know? Especially when the content of the tattoo is quite personal; a total stranger is injecting ink into your skin and hoping that it portrays what you wanted. Xie Lian swiped his clammy palms on his jeans and pushed open the door of the tattoo parlour. It was quiet, cool, soft music playing from an unseen speaker. Fidgeting for a moment, he tugged at his hair anxiously. He knew it would all go smoothly- tattoo inspiration saved on his phone, ID and wallet in his pocket- it was just his bloody brain getting the better of him.

A door opened at the other end of the room, and a tall young guy with punky black hair, a multitude of piercings, and a black eyepatch walked in. He caught sight of Xie Lian and smiled, coming over to the counter. "Hey, sorry to keep you waiting," the guy said. "What can I do for you?" Xie Lian swallowed- damnfuckshit the tattooist was HOT. "I- uh, I made a booking a few days ago, for an appointment?" The guy nods, looking at the computer. "Sweet, what name was the booking under?" Oh gods, this guy was so hot. "Xie Lian... um, X-I-E-" "-L-I-A-N? Got it," the guy finished, typing into the computer. Xie Lian only just noticed his name badge, decorated with butterfly stickers- Hua Cheng. "Tattoo appointment for 2pm... jeez, you're early." He chuckled, which sent butterflies crashing into Xie Lian's stomach. "Ha.... yeah, I guess I got worried that I'd be late..." Oh dear, why did he have to sound this lame and awkward??? "Fair enough.." Hua Cheng turned his gaze back to Xie Lian. He had a spiky piercing on the bridge of his nose and a scar running down his right cheek from under the eyepatch. "Now, I will have to see some ID just to make sure you're of legal age, blah blah blah... and there's a form you need to sign as well. Do you have your ID on you?" "Uh, yeah.." Xie Lian dug out his license and placed it on the counter. Hua Cheng took the license, glanced at it then up at Xie Lian's face, chuckled, then handed it back. "You know, you're the only person I've met whose license photo actually looks good," Hua Cheng said. With his tone, it was hard to tell whether he was being genuine or not. The tattooist got out a form and a pen and slid it over to Xie Lian. As he filled it out, Hua Cheng went over to one of the tattooing chairs and started to set up.

Form filled out and space set up, the art process began. By this point, Xie Lian's previous nerves had gone away- until he had to show the tattoo design itself. It looked simple at first- a safety pin with some Roman numerals reading 'MMXIV' underneath- but the mere act of showing it to the stranger that was Hua Cheng made his hands tremble. Hua Cheng didn't show any emotion in his sharp features as he took in the tattoo design. God knows what he thought of Xie Lian.

"I can do that," he said. "Is there any meaning behind it? Sorry for prying, but.." "It's okay, I don't mind," Xie Lian replied. "My parents, they passed away in 2014, and safety pins.... I used to, um, self harm with them..." He took a shuddering breath, not able to meet Hua Cheng's eye.

The process went on. The two talked, not much, but still decent conversation. Xie Lian was slightly unsure of where to get the tattoo, but the two settled on nestling the tattoo between two of the faded scars on Xie Lian's inner forearm. "We do have numbing gel, if you want," Hua Cheng informed him. Xie Lian considered this for a moment. "I'm alright, but thank you." "If you're sure. Also, let me know if you need any breaks, okay?" Xie Lian replied with a simple nod, and so it begun.

The familiar gentle pulse and sting of the needle worked its way slowly, Hua Cheng's slender hands firm and steady. But only twenty minutes in, Xie Lian could feel his lungs compress and his heart race uncomfortably. "Are you okay?" Hua Cheng asked softly. "Y-yeah.. I'm all good, thanks." This was not the time for Xie Lian to admit he was having some sort of minor anxiety attack due to a fricking tattoo. (dumb dumb)

They continued, but Xie Lian only felt worse with every throb of the gun. It was almost done when he started shaking. "Hey, are you sure you're alright? We can take a break." Hua Cheng stopped the needle, his voice reassuring. Xie Lian only nodded, then swung himself so he sat on the side of the tattooing chair/table thingy. He took deep breaths, shutting his eyes as he pressed the heels of his palms against them.

Reflected in his inner eyelids was the sight of his parents hanging, dead, from the rafters of the barn those ten years ago, blood dripping from their glassy eyes and slack mouths, necks broken. How he, too, tried to hang himself- thank Gods he couldn't reach high enough to hang the noose.

He truly must've been out of it if he didn't even register that Hua Cheng was sitting beside him with a hand on his shoulder asking him if he was okay. What was he meant to say? 'Yeah, just reminiscing about my parents committing double suicide' like-??

"I- it's just-" Xie Lian sighed, uncovering his face but staring blankly at the floor "it's hard. The tattoo itself is fine, but..... what I think about when I see it..... I'm so sorry..." "Hey, hey, it's alright. I get it- some tattoos bring up memories we wish we didn't have." Hua Cheng twined his hand over Xie Lian's gently. "Do you want some water or a snack? We have some." "Oh, I don't want to be a bother, really..." Damn the introvertedness. "You're not a bother at all," replied HUa Cheng, standing up from the seat. "We have Lay's." Okay. That was a selling point. "Are you having some?" Xie Lian asked. "Yeah. So I'm guessing that's a 'yes'...?" Xie Lian nodded. Hua Cheng got up and left, coming back shortly later with two snack-sized bags of chips. He passed one of them to Xie Lian- and coincidentally, it was his favourite flavour.

The two sat in the quiet for a little while, nomming on the chips and talking through some of what Xie Lian was going through. After about half an incense time, they decided to finish off the tattoo. And with that final swipe of the cool cloth, it was done; the gentle curvature of the safety pin contrasted against the rigidness of the Roman numerals, the details delicate and.... perfect.

Was is professional that they exchanged phone numbers? Probably not. Was is professional that they started going out with each other after a couple of weeks? Nope. But all that mattered was that they both found hope in each other they shared a liking for the same flavour of chips.

[felixsramen]

Yours Truly

This is part 26 to my Skz poly fic. I've been so busy with work but I'm so excited that they gave me time off today.

Previous<<<< Next>>>>

"The park?" Jisung says to Hyunjin. Hyunjin nods as you guys get out the car.

"What are we doing in the park?" You ask Hyunjin. Hyunjin heads to the trunk of the car and opens it. Inside is 3 easels, 3 canvases, and paint along with paint brushes.

"I thought painting in the park would be nice." Hyunjin says quietly now unsure if it's a good idea. Jisung notices and quickly takes his hand.

"It is Jinnie." Jisung says and you smile at Hyunjin nodding. Hyunjin smiles back and starts grabbing the easels. Jisung grabs the rest even when you tell him you could carry something and him saying something about him being chivalrous. You ignore him and grab the paint brushes when he almost drops it.

"Stop being so hard headed Ji." You say as Hyunjin finally stops in a spot. "I'm not being hard headed. This date is about you. You shouldn't have to worry about doing anything." Jisung says putting the paint down.

"It's a bag of brushes Ji. Not bricks. Even then I'd still help. Plus you carried 3 bags full of paint." You say and Jisung looks to Hyunjin.

"Hold up. Why do we need 3 bags of paint? We're not painting the Mona Lisa." Jisung says as Hyunjin sets up the easels. "Wait we aren't right?" Jisung says slightly panicking.

Hyunjin looks at him. "No Ji. We are not painting the Mona Lisa." Hyunjin says and Jisung sighs relieved.

"Great because I can barely paint a flower." Jisung says and you laugh at his words. Hyunjin looks at you and smiles.

Jisung looks at you in awe. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?" You say and Jisung shakes his head and smiles.

"No reason." Hyunjin says with a hint of a blush as he picks up the canvases placing them. You look at the boys in confusion as they finish setting it up.

Hyunjin hands you a paint brush and directs you to a easel. "Draw whatever you like. Whatever comes to mind." Hyunjin says from behind you.

Jisung sighs as Hyunjin comes beside him. "Whatever you want love." Hyunjin says and Jisung nods. Hyunjin kisses his cheek before going to his own.

You watch as Hyunjin immediately picks up paint and gets to work. You knew already about Hyunjins secret talent. More than one of the boys mentioning it to you.

You look at your canvas. You decide to paint what you've felt recently. Multiple flowers each one a different emotion.

Eventually you finish and step back to look at the painting. Jisung comes behind you and leans his head on your shoulder.

"Field of flowers? They're beautiful." Jisung says and you smile at his compliment.

"Each ones a different emotion I've felt. The red ones anger. Sadness is blue. Yellow is anxious. Red is love." You say softly and Jisung wraps his hands around your waist burying his face in your neck.

You realized now there was quite a bit of blue and yellow flowers in the field. "We fucked up so bad." Jisung says clear enough for you to hear.

"We're going to try everything to make it up to you." Hyunjin says now also behind you leaning his head on your shoulder.

"It's truly beautiful though." Hyunjin says and you smile.

"Thank you." You reply back as Jisung moves his head away from being buried in your neck.

Jisung sighs softly. "You're amazing." Jisung says kissing your shoulder.

"We're still in a public park Ji." Hyunjin reminds him and Jisung smiles shrugging.

"I don't care. I'm not making out with her in public now am I?" Jisung replies back and Hyunjin rolls his eyes. You let out a laugh.

Jisung moves from behind you taking your hand leading you to his. Jisung drew a very detailed picture of a sunset and you can't help but stare in awe. "I know it's not the best. Hyunjin is the artist. I'm not. He's taught me a few things though." Jisung says shyly admitting.

"I think it's beautiful Ji. It's really good. You're sure art isn't a secret talent of yours?" You ask in amazement. Jisung shyly smiles at your praise as you continue to look at each details.

"It really is beautiful. It's very detailed." Hyunjin replies smiling. "I don't think I could've even done this as well as you have." Hyunjin says continuing to praise him.

"You guys are just saying that." Jisung says not believing your comments.

You look at him smiling. You take his hand in yours. "We're not just saying that." You reply back. Hyunjin kisses his cheek.

"Don't underestimate yourself. It's very beautiful." Hyunjin says and Jisung smiles at you both.

Jisung gets excited though as he pulls you both towards Hyunjins painting. "He always paints so beautifully. I can't wait to see what it is this time." Hyunjin chuckles at his boyfriends excitement.

Jisung stops pulling you both once he sees the painting. Jisung looks at the painting his jaw dropped.

"Holy shit." Jisung says and you look over at the painting.

You look on in amazement. It's a portrait of you. "You did this in the hour we worked on this?" Hyunjin nods and you want to touch it but you know it's still drying.

"Does it look okay? It's not done just yet though." Hyunjin asks you both.

"Hyunjin. Love of my life. The light of my life. This could be in a museum. You sure music is the right career for you? I mean of course you have a beautiful voice but in another life you could've been the next fucking Picasso." Jisung says and you nod still looking at the painting of you in amazement.

Hyunjin smiles at you both. "I hope you know I'm hanging this in my room." Jisung says and you laugh at his words.

"I'm serious. It was not only painted by my gorgeous boyfriend. It's also a picture of the most beautiful girl I've ever met." Jisung says eyes going back to the painting.

"If it's okay with Y/N you can hang it in the living room when I'm finished." Hyunjin says with a smile. Jisung looks at you pleadingly and you laugh. You nod at him and he smiles at you kissing your cheek.

"Thank you. You're amazing. This painting of you is amazing and now when I miss you I can look at this beautiful painting of you." Jisung says and you laugh.

Hyunjin looks at his watch. "Shit. If we don't get home before 1 Minho will have our asses."

"What time is it?" You ask softly.

"12:30." Hyunjin says as he starts packing up the art stuff in a hurry.

You grab his hand as he throws the brushes back into the bag even though they have paint on them. You pull his hands away and smile at him. "Don't worry too much." You say and kiss his cheek.

"You don't know the Minho we know. He's so time oriented. One time I was getting changed for our date and came out a minute late and he left me there." Jisung says and you laugh.

"He'll be fine. It only took 15 minutes to get here." You say softly separating the brushes with paint from the brushes without.

"Didn't he end up coming back for you?" Hyunjin says and Jisung nods.

"After I called him and promised him that I'd do dishes for a week." Jisung says crossing his arms.

You laugh as you finish separating the brushes. "Can you carry the canvases? I'll grab the brushes. I just don't trust Jisung to not trip and break them."

"That was one time Jinnie." Jisung says pouting and you nod with a laugh.

You carefully pick up the canvases to not mess them up. You carry them to the car sitting them in the trunk carefully.

Hyunjin and Jisung place the rest in the back of the car. You smile as Jisung opens the door to get in the back. He grabs you and wraps his hands around your waist before getting in.

You softly kiss his cheek. "Thank you for sitting in the back." You say to him and he smiles.

"If this my reward I'll do it anytime." Jisung says and you laugh as he smiles.

"We can flirt later. I refuse to do dishes if we're late getting home." Hyunjin says and Jisung smiles rolling his eyes.

"Yeah yeah." Jisung says letting go of you. You get into the front as Hyunjin starts the car.

Taglist: @queenmea604 @lolareadsimagines @tinyworld18 @liv302 @jinniespuppy @stephy-nicole13 @freyaniobe @chansbabygirlsstuff @chansbabygirlsstuff @hyuneyeon @sirenthalia @nagadiluc @tenshimara @leeknowleeknow @boi-bi-ahaha @shltsnglggles @tinystarsthing @armystay89 @baby-fairy-yas @haileybugulug @freckleboilix @im-sinking-in-mud @lmaouwu @greysweaters-blog @katrodriguez99 @3rachasninja @amararosesblog @1alesakura @m4gg13-g @vampcharxter @noellllslut @berryberrytan @junebug032 @jeonginwvr @jeongchaos @emyferra08 @stvrfir3 @feybin @mauvemelon @worcesheshestershiresauce @realrintaro @katsukis1wife @foliea @krishastumblernow @pretty-blkgirl @mrsseochangbin @cyberpunksunwoo @nobody3210 @skzenthusiastt

[venbetta]

Okay, I wanted to talk about this animation by @/Johantly on Twitter

It's 1:31 animation of Freddy in the Endo Daycare having his existential crisis, it slaps so hard... and I just need to ramble about it. (I was trying to add pictures, but it's not loading properly, so... wahh)

The first few seconds have me interested. It's something about the way Freddy moves, feels natural/humanoid. The cut of the camera to a lower mid shot angle gives it a similar feel to a TV show/movie.

Something about the different shots adds a nice a flow that tickles my brain

I also love the use of the voiceline and how it was edited, as its one of those lines that Freddy asks at some point during the game; as if he's having an epiphany about what Gregory saw earlier.

He brings it up with such casual skepticism (his tone makes me giggle), despite saying, "I believe you if you say you have." Hearing that line in game makes me wanna flick him- don't question me, Freddy, I know what I saw >:(

Anyways the natural cut off of dialogue just works, his little quirks of speech and movement in this animation makes him so human like.

The model for the endo daycare is so well crafted that the setting is dark but has a nostalgic vibe. The original game model is cold, dark, and creepy, but for some reason, when I look at this one, it feels different. Nostalgic, as I mentioned, and kinda warm in a weird way. I don't know. Conceptually it's fucking creepy with the endos hanging around, but honestly this gives me the vibes of a college kid going back to his childhood room and reminiscing on the memories. It would be interesting if we find out if the glams remember their training.

Side bit, his mention of never being allowed in the endo daycare is interesting, despite saying he might have been born there. Knowing what we know from HW2, seeing the programming process of juvenile endos is a delicate yet fast-paced one. I've had personal headcanons about what it was like, and Hw2 sort of confirmed it.

It's kinda odd that Freddy isn't allowed to be in the daycare, though, but maybe the existential dread is probably the reason why the techs don't let the main mascots go back there.

Freddy's soliloquy has always made me feel for him, I like listening to it. He sounds so introspective and frantic about it, so seeing it animated with his movements was.. cathartic? (Help I've watched this thing 9 times now)

The glams themselves aren't that expressive in the game. They experience emotions, yeah, but I mean physically emoting is rare or pretty stiff. The most facial expressions we get are in the beginning cutscene, maybe the dissamble ending, and the front entrance cutscene- Freddy being at the forefront. It's kinda hard to emote as a robot, but this animation does a great job with the limited range of expression.

Using Freddy's ears, hands, eyebrows, and his shoulder pads to emote is impressive. I've seen a lot of good security breach animations and they all have their own ways of making the glams emote, and I always love watching them (I'll probably link my favorite fan animations at the end). Also, this one of the few animations I've seen where they actually rigged Freddy's eyebrows to move. Hell yeahhhh!!!

But how Freddy acts in this just gives me joy. "Monty in a different" as he looks over himself, reaching to touch an endo as he says, "They are all the same." He's just so sweet acting.

And the music swelling adds so much more to his monologue. The crescendo as he says, "If I am mass produced, am I still art?" HITS SO FUCKING HARD

I made a joke tweet comparing the shot of him reaching up to the light with Ariel in Part of Your World, but it honestly has that same vibe. He's dramatic, he's whimsical, he's dumb, and also a little annoying, but it's okay. We still love him.

The light shutting off as he breaks out from his dread is kinda funny, though, and Gregory awkwardly standing there adds to it.

Sorry, this is such a cornplate thing to say, but he also uses a contraction when he says, "Greg, I'm not nearly that annoying, am I?"

GOD HES SO SILLY

Then Gregory nodding in response, causing him to get a little droopy is comedy. It's not gut busting humor, but it's the little things that make me giggle okay. Freddy needs to be self-aware, and damnit, if a 12 year old doesn't humble him, then what's the point?

Get called cringe like the rest of us, Freddy.

Okay, the fazerblast commercial doesn't have any reason to go that hard, but it does. The opening sequence for it with Freddy standing there is so... GGHHFHG :33

I'm normal.

He's so cool. I know I called him cringe just a second ago but I'm fan regardless of his flaws okay. This makes me want to play fazerblast with him.

The running, jumping, and shooting he does is *chef's kiss*, even if it's at Monty's expense. Bro should've had a fazerblaster...

Also their faces... it's like Freddy doesn't even remember doing that commercial.

I love how embarrassed he gets, it's so cute-

And it's hard to tell if Gregory is impressed by Freddy's agility or by how cheesy the ad is. The cut was like a cutaway gag in The Office or Family Guy.

Either way, this is peak. I loved this animation, it's only been out less than a week and I've watched it officially 9 times... (and maybe more)

It gives me a sense of comfort. The amount of time and effort put into something that was a small side project is an incredible feat, and it has so much jam packed in a one and half minute animation. It feels like it could be a scene from SB or even a movie. It's so fucking good. This is just a self indulgent, cornplate post and I don't care what anyone says about it. I just like rambling about fnaf sb stuff especially if Freddy is involved.

Here's the playlist full of my favorite security breach animations (some are music videos)

Anyway, thanks for reading..