#“you are the one fixed point in a changing world”

[kpoplustzone]

Game of Nine - Twice smut

Jihyo x OC

voyeur, smut, breeding, multiple series, sneaky

My name is CHOI HYUK. I am a 26-year-old Korean who was lucky enough to become the manager of one of the most sexy and successful girl groups in Korea. Twice has been popular since its debut and has exploded in popularity later.

Especially their members who were sexy and charming and millions of people around the world fapped to their pictures and fan cams.

I was not an exception to this, and seeing all nine of them smiling at us, the newly hired manager, was a dream come true. I remember Kiho, another newly hired manager, standing beside me and gulping in a daze, seeing the amount of sexiness in front of us.

All nine of them brought out different kinds of charm for the fans, and seeing them perform for the fans, teasing them, showing just enough so that the men can only dream about their thick bodies.

When Choi Hyuk first joined the team as an assistant for TWICE, he thought he’d landed the dream job. Backstage access, travel, and a chance to work alongside the most admired women in the industry. For the first few weeks, things felt surreal. The members were warm, friendly — Jihyo especially. She had smiled at him often, even remembered his coffee order after the second day. He’d catch her humming during rehearsals, sometimes glancing his way with a nod or playful wink. For a quiet guy like him, it felt like more than just professional kindness. It felt personal.

But then Kiho arrived.

Short, round, always laughing too loud — Kiho had a way of making people feel instantly at ease. The girls loved him. At first, Hyuk didn’t mind. It was harmless. But within weeks, things shifted. He noticed the change in the air. They started calling Kiho cute, playfully teasing him, grabbing his arm, fixing his collar. The same smiles Hyuk once got were now all for Kiho. Even Jihyo — especially Jihyo.

She barely noticed Hyuk anymore. Some days, she wouldn’t even greet him.

He’d watch from the corner of the room as she whispered in Kiho’s ear, giggling, brushing against him like it meant nothing. And Kiho… Kiho lapped it up. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Hyuk never said a word. What would be the point? He was just the quiet one now. The background. The one who blended into walls and got forgotten during group dinners. Still, something inside him simmered — not quite anger, not quite heartbreak, but a slow, twisting burn of being invisible.

Which is why, when he woke up in the back of Jihyo’s RV that afternoon, groggy from a midday nap he hadn’t meant to take, he stayed quiet.

He heard the door shut.

Then footsteps.

Then her voice — that soft, teasing voice she used when she was in the mood to play.

And then he heard Kiho.

Hyuk didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He stayed hidden behind the thin curtain, barely peeking through, heart thudding in his chest. What he saw made his throat go dry.

Jihyo — pressed up against Kiho. Smiling. Whispering.

And touching him.

Not him. Never him.

But Hyuk couldn’t look away

Jihyo stepped into the RV, the soft click of the door locking behind her. The dim, amber lighting wrapped around her curves like a spotlight, catching the shine on her skin where her crop top clung tight across her chest. Her jeans, stretched smooth over her hips and thighs, made every step a show. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching, giving her assistant a full view — and she saw the way his eyes dropped, slowly, drinking her in like he was starving.

She smirked.

"You’ve been staring all day," she said, voice low, teasing. Her heels clicked softly as she crossed the small space between them, hips swaying just enough to drive a man crazy. "Why don’t you just admit it?" She stopped in front of him, so close her breath warmed his cheek. Her fingers brushed lightly over his collar, dragging down his chest, slow and playful. "You think about me when I’m not around, don’t you?"

He swallowed hard, too stunned to speak.

Jihyo’s eyes flicked down, then up again, watching his reactions with a wicked satisfaction. Her hands slid to his waist, fingers curling around his belt loop, tugging him closer until they were almost touching. "You're easy to read," she whispered. "And honestly… I kinda like it."

What neither of them noticed was the slight shift behind the curtain at the back of the RV. Hidden in the shadows, Choihyuk had woken the second the door opened. At first, he stayed still, groggy and annoyed, but now his eyes were wide, locked on the scene unfolding just feet away. He didn’t dare move. His breath caught in his throat as he peeked through a small gap in the curtain, heart thudding.

Jihyo leaned in again, her lips just barely brushing the assistant’s jaw. "I wonder how long you can hold back," she whispered. "Should we find out?"

She didn’t notice the way Choihyuk’s hand clutched the edge of the couch, or how hard it was for him to stay still. The tension inside the RV was thick, hot, and humming — one assistant frozen under her touch, the other hidden and burning with a mix of jealousy, longing, and something deeper he’d never dared admit out loud.

Jihyo turned to walk away, but before she could even take a full step, Kiho reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not rough — just enough to stop her. She turned back to face him, her heart racing in a way that startled her. There was something about the way Kiho looked at her now — something that was no longer just shy admiration, but something much bolder, darker.

"You really think I'm going to let you walk away like that?" Kiho’s voice was low, his words lingering in the air. There was no mistaking the challenge in his tone now. His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, pulling her toward him with a confidence that made Jihyo’s breath catch in her throat. She could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of her shirt, and the soft pressure of his touch made her pulse race.

Jihyo blinked, her body suddenly responding in ways she didn’t expect. Her skin felt alive, every nerve ignited by the simple, bold touch of his hand. She glanced down at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "Kiho…" she whispered, her voice a little shaky, a little breathless.

Kiho’s hand slid further, just grazing the curve of her hip before sliding around her back. His fingers flexed, pressing her body even closer to his. The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed against hers, made Jihyo tremble, a soft shiver running through her as he leaned in, his lips barely a breath away from her ear. "You don’t have to go anywhere, Jihyo," he whispered, his voice soft, yet filled with an unmistakable hunger.

Jihyo’s heart skipped. She should have pulled away. She knew she should, but every inch of her body was begging her to stay. Kiho’s touch, the way he was looking at her now, with that mix of confidence and desire… It was like a switch had flipped in him. He was no longer the shy assistant. He was a man who wanted her, and he was no longer afraid to show it.

Kiho’s other hand came up, brushing against her cheek, his fingers trailing slowly down her jaw, caressing her skin. She gasped, her body going taut under his touch, the sensation making her whole body tremble. His hand slid lower, ghosting over her neck before landing on her shoulder, his thumb drawing small circles over her skin. The simple, tender touch made Jihyo shudder again, her breath coming faster, deeper.

"You look so perfect," Kiho murmured, his voice rougher now. His hand slid lower, reaching the small of her back, pulling her in even closer. His lips were just a hair’s breadth away from hers now. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he confessed, his breath warm against her skin.

Jihyo's heart raced. Her body responded without thinking, pressing closer into him, her hands clutching at his shirt as if pulling him even closer. She wanted this. She needed this…”

Before she could finish, Kiho’s lips brushed over hers, just a featherlight kiss that made her stomach twist with desire. His lips were soft, teasing, as if waiting for her to respond. She gasped, her body instinctively leaning into the kiss, her lips parting just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands found their way up to his neck, pulling him closer, desperate for more. The heat between them intensified with each passing second, every touch, every kiss, making her tremble harder under him. Kiho wasn’t holding back anymore. His hands roamed down her body, one sliding to her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.

Jihyo’s breath was ragged, her body alive with sensations she couldn’t control. Every touch from him sent electric jolts through her, making her skin burn with need. She trembled again, this time more violently, and Kiho noticed. He smiled against her lips, feeling the way her body responded to him. His hands roamed lower, sliding over the curves of her waist, the smoothness of her thighs, exploring with purpose.

In the back of the RV, Choihyuk watched, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were wide, glued to the scene before him. He had always admired Jihyo, but seeing her like this — vulnerable, trembling, desired — made his heart pound in his chest. He watched as Kiho’s hands traced the curve of her body, feeling like an intruder, but unable to look away. His goddess, the one he had always looked up to, was here, right in front of him, being touched in a way he had never imagined.

Jihyo, completely unaware of Choihyuk's presence, was lost in the heat of the moment, her body pressed tightly against Kiho’s. His hands moved with confidence, each touch pushing her closer to the edge of control. She gasped as he pulled her even closer, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands exploring her body with growing boldness.

Kiho’s lips met hers again, this time with a fierce passion, as if he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed her against the table, the movement so sudden that Jihyo’s breath caught in her throat. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her trembling with need. And as she clung to him, she couldn’t stop herself from pulling him closer, her body responding to his touch without a single thought.

In the back, Choihyuk could only watch in stunned silence, his eyes wide as he watched the woman he admired more than anyone being kissed, touched, and desired in ways he could never have imagined.

The air in the RV was thick with heat, the moment between Kiho and Jihyo crackling with an electricity neither of them could deny. Kiho, his breath still ragged from the kiss, pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Jihyo's lips were swollen, her breathing uneven, and it made him smile. He could feel the pulse of desire radiating off her, and it thrilled him.

"Earlier," Kiho said, his voice lower now, each word deliberate as he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. "When you were performing… in front of that crowd… You were incredible." He paused, his eyes darkening with something more primal. "You made them all watch. You had them all in the palm of your hand, just… lusting after you."

Jihyo shivered at the words, her body reacting to his touch, her breath quickening. "I didn't think you were watching that closely," she teased, her voice a little shaky, trying to act casual, but she could feel the heat of his gaze seeping into her skin.

Kiho leaned in again, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I was watching every move you made. And they were all just there, watching you, wanting you… But only I get to touch you like this." His words were almost a growl, filled with possessiveness, yet there was something softer in his tone. Something that made Jihyo's heart race even faster.

Jihyo's breath hitched, and she closed her eyes for a brief second, feeling a mix of heat and anticipation run through her veins. She had always known the effect she had on people, but hearing it from Kiho made her feel something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit.

Her body responded instinctively to him. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and placed her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. "And what makes you think you’re the only one who can touch me?" she asked, her voice a challenge, though it was laced with desire.

Kiho’s eyes darkened, and he let out a low laugh, the sound rich with a mix of amusement and hunger. "Because, Jihyo," he said, trailing his fingers down the length of her arm until they found the curve of her waist, pulling her against him with a firm but gentle hand. "I can see how badly you want it. I can feel how much you need it." His voice was low and silky, each word sending a wave of heat through her. "And I can see how you’re trembling under my touch. No one else will get to see you like this."

Jihyo gasped, the feeling of his hand on her waist sending a ripple of warmth through her entire body. The intimacy of his words, the way he saw her, truly saw her, was almost too much to handle. She tried to resist, but it was clear that Kiho had found a way to make her lose control.

"You're not just teasing me," Kiho whispered, his lips brushing over her neck as he continued, his voice like honey, "You’re letting me see all of you. And I promise, you won't regret this."

Jihyo’s hands roamed to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she tilted her head back, giving him more access to her skin. "You think you have me figured out?" she asked breathlessly, her voice a mix of confidence and desire. "You think you're the only one who knows what I want?"

Kiho’s lips found the sweet spot on her neck, his kiss gentle, then more urgent, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. "I know exactly what you want," he murmured against her skin, his hands moving slowly, possessively, up her back, inching toward the curve of her shoulder. "And it’s only a matter of time before you stop pretending you don’t want me too."

Jihyo’s body quivered under his touch, her mind swirling with desire. She could feel the pull, the growing need between them, and the way Kiho’s words — his actions — were slowly unravelling her resolve. She wanted him. She could feel it deep inside, but she wasn’t ready to fully surrender, not yet.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But Kiho was quick to respond, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her even closer as the kiss deepened. He tasted like fire, his hands roaming her body with an urgency that sent sparks of desire through her entire being.

And all the while, Choi hyuk remained hidden in the back, watching, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw Jihyo, the woman he had quietly adored from afar, completely consumed by Kiho. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the way Jihyo’s body responded to Kiho’s touch, the way her face flushed with desire. It was like watching his goddess being claimed, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The air inside the RV was thick, almost suffocating, with the weight of unspoken desires. Jihyo stood in front of Kiho, her body electric with anticipation, yet her mind still conflicted, unsure of where this was headed. She could feel the heat radiating between them, a pull she couldn’t seem to escape. Her body responded to him — she could feel the way her pulse quickened with every glance, every touch.

Kiho stepped closer, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. Jihyo's skin flushed under his gaze, her body instinctively shifting, her shoulders back, subtly arching in the way she knew was most seductive. She could feel the fabric of her shirt clinging to her curves, outlining the smooth shape of her chest, her waist, and the gentle curve of her hips.

“You know,” Kiho said, his voice low, almost a whisper, “every time you move… you make it impossible for me to look away.”

Jihyo swallowed, her breath shallow, as Kiho reached out to trace the edge of her shirt, his fingers just grazing the fabric, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The touch was light, teasing, but it felt as though every nerve in her body was awakening. She could feel his eyes on her, sensing the way he was drinking in every inch of her body, as though she was something both forbidden and irresistible.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, wanting to move, but unsure of how. She was playing a game now, a dance that she both feared and craved. The way Kiho looked at her made her feel seen — truly seen — for the first time, as though every part of her body, every curve, was something worth admiring.

“You’re so beautiful, Jihyo,” Kiho murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something deeper. “I’ve seen you on stage… but standing here, with me, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time.”

His words wrapped around her like a silken thread, tightening, pulling her closer to him. She bit her lip, feeling both exposed and powerful. Her legs felt weak as she took a small step back, almost imperceptibly, but Kiho was quick to follow, closing the space between them once again. His breath was warm on her skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Let me show you just how beautiful you are,” he whispered, his hands sliding up to the small of her back, pulling her toward him so that she could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers.

Jihyo’s breath caught. She could feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt, his body strong and solid against hers, and it made her heart race. The tension between them was palpable — thick, electric. Her skin tingled under his touch, every inch of her body becoming acutely aware of the way he was holding her, the way he was gazing at her as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Kiho’s hands slid slowly, deliberately, to the hem of her shirt. He didn’t rush; his touch was slow, gentle, yet there was an undeniable hunger in the way he moved. Jihyo’s heart pounded in her chest as he lifted the fabric, exposing the soft curve of her midriff. She trembled, unsure whether to pull away or lean into him. Every instinct in her told her to stay, to let the tension between them build even further.

Her body responded to him, even when her mind was hesitant. She could feel the pull of gravity between them, each inch closer, each brush of his hands against her skin, only serving to make her more desperate for the next moment, the next touch. Kiho’s gaze never left hers, his eyes dark with desire, and yet there was something tender, almost reverent, in the way he looked at her.

“I know you want this,” Kiho said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “I can feel it. Don’t fight it.”

Jihyo shuddered under his words. She wanted him. She couldn’t deny it. The way he made her feel — the way he saw her — it was too much to ignore. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed her hands to drift upward, undoing the buttons of her shirt. Each movement was slow, deliberate, and as the fabric began to fall from her shoulders, she could feel Kiho’s gaze burning into her skin.

She wasn’t sure when it happened — when she stopped being afraid and started giving into the attraction, the magnetism between them. But once the shirt had slipped off, leaving her in a simple tank top that clung to her curves, Jihyo didn’t feel exposed; she felt empowered. She felt desired, in a way that was both intoxicating and thrilling.

Kiho’s eyes darkened further, his breath catching as he looked at her body, taking in every inch of her, every curve that made her uniquely her. The way her waist curved down to her hips, the soft roundness of her thighs, the way her skin glowed under the dim light. He couldn’t look away.

"You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. "Every part of you is a masterpiece."

Jihyo could feel the heat rising between them. She was trembling, not just from desire, but from something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

But in that moment, with Kiho’s hands hovering just inches away from her body, she felt something stir inside her — a desire to be seen, to be touched, to be wanted in a way that was undeniable.

ihyo’s pulse quickened with every small movement he made, every slight shift in the way he touched her. His hand rested just above her waist, fingertips lightly grazing the smooth skin of her lower back. His touch was tender, yet there was a quiet confidence in the way he caressed her, as though he already knew exactly how to make her tremble without trying too hard.

She caught her breath as Kiho’s eyes slowly traced the curves of her body. Her chest rose and fell as she fought the urge to pull away, to resist, but something deeper inside of her told her to lean in, to explore the feeling between them, to see where it might lead. She could feel the heat radiating between them, his presence so strong it was almost overwhelming.

“Kiho,” she whispered, her voice low, unsure of what she wanted but needing something. His name escaped her lips like a breath, a question and a command all in one.

Kiho didn’t answer with words. Instead, he let his hands glide down her side, his touch gentle and purposeful. He paused just below her ribs, letting his fingers lightly trace the outline of her body, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his touch. There was no rush, no need to hurry. He wanted to savor this moment, every second, every inch of her. The curve of her waist, the way her body responded to his touch, it was all so intoxicating.

Jihyo’s breath caught as he leaned closer, his lips brushing just above her navel, sending a shiver through her body. She could feel his warmth, his breath hot against her skin, but it wasn’t until his lips made contact that she finally let herself relax into the sensation. His kiss was soft, almost reverent, as though he was cherishing every part of her.

He pulled back slightly, looking up at her with those dark, intense eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. But all he saw was the spark of desire in her gaze, the same desire that burned in his chest. Without a word, his lips found her skin once again, this time lower, pressing delicate kisses just above her waistband.

Her body responded, her muscles trembling at the sensation of his lips on her. She had never felt so exposed, yet at the same time, so alive. The air around them felt thick, the tension between them palpable

Kiho slowly grazed his fingers along the surface of her tank top, and his thick fingers circled around the thick buds that were hard like a rock, and he could feel her body trembling as her back arched, giving him the full view of her huge breasts that were renowned in the K-pop industry. He could not wait to suck on those pink buds that every south Korean men wished to.

Choi Hyuk could barely breathe as he watched from the shadows, his body tensed with raw, burning jealousy. Jihyo—gorgeous, untouchable Jihyo—was trembling under Kiho’s stubby but commanding hands, her breath hitching in her throat, her curves pressed close to him like a dream slipping out of control. She was a vision of pure temptation: her tight tank top straining over her full, perfect breasts, her toned thighs shifting restlessly, as if begging for more. Hyuk's hand instinctively moved lower, trying in vain to soothe the painful bulge growing with every second of the shameless show before him. He grit his teeth, helpless, as Kiho, emboldened by her reaction, slid his hand along her waist, looking seconds away from tearing the thin fabric away and burying his face between those irresistible mountains.

Just as Kiho’s fingers curled under the edge of her top, a thunderous knock rattled the door, making Jihyo yelp in panic. She hurriedly tugged her clothes back into place, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, and threw herself onto the seat beside Kiho, trying to look innocent even as the air around her crackled with unspent heat. The RV door creaked open slowly, and Hyuk’s heart nearly stopped.

There, silhouetted in the doorway like a goddess descending to earth, stood Momo—the only other idol who could rival Jihyo’s lethal allure. Dressed in a short skirt and a tight crop top that left little to the imagination, she stepped inside with a smile that could melt steel, her eyes sweeping over the room before settling on the guilty-looking pair. With a playful glint in her gaze, she closed the door behind her, trapping all that smoldering tension inside the RV.

That is it for part 1. Part 2 continues with sneaky actions inside the RV with Momo and Jihyo at the same time. Kiho, you lucky bastard

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize, Part 7 (Yan Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other parts

This is the next chapter in the main plot line - thank you for your patience as I dabbled in various AUs.

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for your invaluable editing and beta-ing and thank you to @sordidmusings for your comments, editing, and generally hyping me up way more than I deserve.

Anyway, enjoy!!

Your POV

Something had shifted between you and the Apex Alpha ever since the disastrous conversation Shanks forced out of you. For one, Shanks was now drinking every night as the Red Force sailed the seas of the New World. He would begin drinking at lunch and wouldn’t stop until he stumbled into the cabin you shared, tumbling into the bed with his hands searching for you. He didn’t pursue anything more than holding you tightly in his arms or sniffing at your scent glands as he ran his hands up and down your flanks. Whereas before he’d sprawled out on the bed, now it seemed like he had to keep at least one body part touching you at all times, even during the night. 

It wasn’t like Shanks was celebrating either. He’d drink near his crewmates or by himself while staring off into the sea. It didn’t seem to matter to him what was happening around him. His crew didn’t seem to notice or mind the change, long used to their heavy drinking Captain. Benn sometimes threw you sympathetic glances as Shanks pulled you onto his lap, but other than that, they ignored you. Shanks’s constant need for physical contact was driving you crazy. You could only hope the ship would be docking soon so you’d get some kind of reprieve. 

For as close as Shanks was keeping you physically, he was emotionally distant and kept his own counsel. His hands would roam your arms and sides, he didn’t speak to you in the same light-hearted tone as before. He wasn’t mean or cruel; he would still bring you food or drinks, but his previously warm pleasantries to you were spoken in a detached manner. In the mornings, he’d bring you a warm cup of herbal tea and wait with you until you finished it, taking the porcelain cup back with him to the kitchens. Even so, his smile wasn’t as present either with you or with the crew. Shanks was off in his own world, and you couldn’t bring him out of it.

After several days of giving Shanks space, your instincts had you running ragged any time you saw the Captain. The drastic change in Shanks’s nature was setting off your internal alarms - the Omega in you demanded you placate him. Your body was telling you that you’d upset him and that you needed to fix what was wrong. You knew the change stemmed from the conversation that he’d pried out of you, but even so you couldn’t resist the call to console and soothe. 

Your mind also railed against you - you’d upset one of the four Emperors. Sure, he’d been nice to you up until that point, but what if he got tired of your attitude like Kid had? The worst moments of your life had been when Kid was upset, using you as an emotional and physical punching bag to work through his anger. And Kid had been decimated by Shanks while only using a fraction of his power - you couldn’t imagine how much worse your predicament would be under an angry Shanks. You didn’t want to find out.

Between your anxiety, biological drive, and Shanks’s distant mood, you weren’t comfortable or able to relax on the ship. You listened to every sigh for a break in Shanks’s nearly palpable tension.

One day, after Shanks silently watched you drink your morning tea, you couldn’t bear it anymore. The ship had been sailing for about ten days with no islands in sight on the horizon, and Shanks still hadn’t broken out of his stupor. You’d even gone to Benn to ask for advice, though being near another Alpha while Shanks was upset caused your anxiety to spiral. It was still the better option to get advice rather than let Shanks’s bad mood continue. You’d approached Benn while he was smoking and reading the newspaper in the early morning sun, while Shanks still slept.

“Mr. B-Beckman, I -”

“Just Benn,” he replied, his eyes still trained on the paper.

“Benn, I…I um, don’t know, is Shanks…is he, um-” you stammered and fidgeted as Benn continued to read, feeling like a child about to be reprimanded by an adult.

“He’s fine. He’ll perk up eventually.” Benn said in a bland tone, putting out his cigarette in the glass ashtray. His movements were unhurried as he folded up his paper and left to go below deck. You chewed on your lower lip, tasting blood after a few moments. Was he mad at what you’d told Shanks too? Did he know what you’d said? Or did he just have nothing else to say to you? Was the whole crew mad at you? Your gut churned as you continued to overthink the interaction. Every possibility only twisted your tangled emotions further into knots as you returned to the cabin. 

Shanks was stirring, so you quickly got back into the bed before he noticed you weren’t next to him. You typically woke before he did but one morning, he hadn’t found you next to him upon waking and was even stormier in thought and action throughout the day. Now you made sure to be in bed when he woke to try and mitigate the day’s brooding.

“Good morning, Omega,” he said formally, pushing his red bangs off his face with the back of a hand before he pulled you closer. His hair was longer than you’d ever seen it; maybe he should have taken that haircut on the island in your stead.

“Good morning, Shanks,” you said quietly, aware that he wasn’t looking for conversation. He tucked you into his side and ran his fingers down your spine as his eyes took on a faraway look. Your nose wrinkled in displeasure when the scent of last night’s booze hit you. He remained silent as he continued stroking your skin, and you pressed your lips together as a means to focus. Your mind took on a frenzied state, your instincts screaming for you to lick his neck or kiss him or talk or do anything to make him feel better. Your fingers twitched and you almost reached for him but stopped short. The image of Kuro’s blood dripping down Shanks’s throat had you balling your fists to combat your instinctive need to soothe him. You didn’t want to do anything without permission, you were frightened that any unwanted action would threaten the tenuous balance that Shanks was riding right now.

“I’m sure you’ve been up for a while. I’ll go get your tea,” he said in a monotone and pressed a kiss to your forehead before letting you go.. You were practically in tears as he stood up and straightened his spine, so different from the easy shuffle he’d had when you first met. He almost looked like a different person, now stiff and formal, when he’d been so carefree in the past. His dead eyes roved over you, finding nothing worth lingering on before he left the cabin. 

You sat up in the bed and quickly went rifling through his worn shirts, sniffing for the one with the strongest scent. Throwing off your clothes, you donned the extra large shirt and brought the collar to your nose. You took a deep inhale of the Alpha’s scent to calm you down, though you found it slightly soured by the stench of alcohol. Still, you inhaled the rich scent slowly, as if you were savoring it like a fine brandy. You took a few more breaths before the cabin door opened again, revealing the Emperor with your porcelain tea cup.

His eyes flicked over you before giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Outfit change?” he asked, extending the teacup. 

“Thank you, Shanks,” you said as you nodded and took it with shaking fingers. Shanks reached out to steady the cup, seemingly concerned about the tea inside. 

“Whoa, steady. Don’t get it on the bed,” he said, making sure it was cradled in your hands. Once Shanks was satisfied that you had the tea secure, he sat next to you on the bed and loosely wound his arm around your shoulders. “Drink it while it's still warm,” he said tonelessly, his fingers tilting the cup upwards as you sipped the beverage. It seemed like the flavor intensified every day, but you didn’t mind. The tea had a strong woodsy flavor, not something that you’d pick for yourself, but it wasn’t bad either. 

The two of you sat in silence side by side as you sipped, the ship rolling through the currently calm waters. Even though a part of you was calmed by completing a task Shanks asked of you, the lack of emotional connection still drove your immense anxiety. You tried to drink the tea as quickly as you could without burning yourself, eager to show your compliance. Once he saw you had finished the beverage, he held out his hand for you to return the cup. You placed it gently in his palm and Shanks moved to rise from his spot next to you on the bed. Your mind was screaming at you that now was the moment to act; when he was calm and sober, you needed to fix everything . 

“W-wait, please...pl-if you want,” you stammered, sure you were making a fool of yourself. You scanned his impassive face as his eyebrow quirked up.

“Is something wrong?” he asked in a neutral tone, moving the cup to a bedside table. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just…I -” You wrung your hands together as you spoke, unsure what words would both convey your meaning as well as not anger him further. His face softened a little as he raised his hand towards your face. You consciously avoided flinching back as he stroked your cheek with one finger. The tension was so high and you didn’t know how to fix it; you could no longer hold back and your eyes filled with tears. 

“What’s wrong, little Omega? What’s making you upset?” he said gently, his brown eyes finally focusing on you as he turned completely to face you. You felt like you were moving automatically as you finally moved in an attempt to mollify the Emperor. Your emotions fueled your decisions as you moved yourself to straddle his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled yourself closer to his own potent scent glands, his rich scent calling to you like a siren, and buried your face in his neck. 

“Mm? This is new,” he said with mild interest, his arm running down your back. You choked back a sob as you felt his fingers roving over the shirt and pushed your face further into his warm, salty skin. You didn’t know what to say or do, usually Shanks led and you followed, but he wasn’t leading. There was nothing for you to follow, he was upset with you, with what you said, what you didn’t say, what you did wasn’t working, nothing was working, he was upset, everyone was upset. Everything was unbalanced and unwell and not right and ruined….

So you did the only thing you could think of at that moment. You put your mouth over his scent glands and bit down. Hard.

Shanks pushed your head back from the crook of his neck gently but firmly, his brows knit together in confusion. You’d heard that when Alphas’ scent glands were bitten, they felt intense pleasure, but Shanks hadn’t made any noise or even movement. He didn’t like it, he was rejecting you, he didn’t want you anymore, he was too upset to keep you, he was going to sell you-

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching to cradle the back of your head.

Shanks POV

It had taken all of Shanks’s considerable self control not to moan when the Omega had bitten his scent glands. Even now, he wanted to push your head back into place to where you’d been buried in his neck and have you sink your teeth into him again. It was his dream come true, his fantasy, to have you claim him like he so desperately wanted to claim you.

Hongo had unearthed a rare book about Omegas at the previous island and Shanks had finished it over the course of one night. In the past, Omegas had often marked their mates with a bite of their own, which Alphas wore proudly as a mark of distinction. A mating bite by an Omega didn’t have many biological implications beyond strengthening the bond already created by an Alpha, but it showed a love connection between partners. It had been a way to flaunt that partners weren’t only together by fate or designation, that they’d chosen one another. Obviously, things had changed once the availability of Omegas was disrupted by the Celestial Dragons but the idea held appeal. Shanks had told you he wouldn’t mark you until your next heat, and he’d hold himself to that promise. You , however, were free to mark him.

He’d been thinking deeply over the events of his life, drowning himself in whatever alcohol he could find. Ironically, it was the same method used by one of the men consuming many of his thoughts - Silvers Rayleigh. But it wasn’t just Ray that Shanks was reminiscing over - it was Buggy, Mihawk, Roger, Marco, Luffy, Makino, Crocus, Gabban, Shamrock. So many who’d chosen to cast him aside and abandon him when he needed them most. He’d come a long way, he’d had to, but the cost was high. No one had wanted him for who he truly was when he was just Shanks. They wanted the fool, the charmer, the Captain, the Emperor, the swordsman, the father, the brother, the son… but no one wanted him for just Shanks . 

Benn was the closest he’d come to having a true connection, and though it was grounding, it wasn’t enough. Something in Shanks needed someone to consume him whole, to take him as he was and leave nothing unturned and untouched. He ruminated about your near statements, about events in the past, friends lost, enemies gained - Shanks had been down this road many times seeking his answers at the bottom of a bottle of booze.

Despite his drinking, Shanks noticed your easily disturbed sleep and the bags under your eyes, so he put in extra effort to console you. Shanks reached for you constantly, trying to show you that he wasn’t going to harm you like he had Kuro on the island. That you would be safe even in his darkest moments. He’d been in deep funks before, he knew Benn and the crew would come to his aid if he buried himself too deep in his cups. 

Perhaps some of your desire to soothe him was driven by your biological needs, Shanks thought. He’d read that before the Celestial Dragons had disrupted the natural order, Omegas had generally been peacekeepers, able to ease tensions between the different designations. The book had made reference to other powers that Omegas had, but nothing specific was mentioned. Shanks was going to ask Hongo to follow up and find out further information on other islands - after he answered your mating call.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked, trying his best to keep his tone of voice even. The rising need within him was nearly choking his words but the Omega didn’t seem perturbed. You nodded with averted eyes while licking your lips, a perfect picture of submission. Shanks wanted to roar and claw at his skin, but gentled himself so as not to scare you. “We can always stop, I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t wish to do,” he whispered, pushing your hair out of your face. You tilted your head up to look at him, your pupils blown wide.

“I’m sure.”

 Shanks pulled your head towards his own as you wound your arms around his neck. You resumed your former position against his neck, this time kissing and sucking at his scent glands. Shanks did allow himself to groan as your hips started gently rocking against his own, his hand now gripping your outer thigh. Shanks’s cock was rock hard, ready to be buried deep within you as you marked his neck. 

Even as Shanks wanted to flip you onto your back and take control, he found your awkward movements on top of him to be rather sweet. You weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands - they kept flitting from his shoulders to his chest to his back - or with your hips. Shanks wasn’t sure you realized you were moaning as well, light little husks that had pre-come dripping from his cock. He smelled your arousal flowering in the air but wanted to give you the chance to take control. You could have discarded him like so many others had, but you’d come back to him even when he wasn’t at his best. Shanks wanted to show you that you did have choices and that with those choices, you had picked him. 

Your POV

You weren’t sure how to transition from sitting on Shanks’s lap to full blown sex. Shanks was more in the present than he had been since the island, and your instincts were telling you to continue to appease him. Even so, you didn’t quite know what to do and you hoped he couldn’t tell, or that if he did, it wouldn’t displease him. You’d finally been able to change his mood and you didn’t want to spoil it by doing something wrong. 

Before you’d been kidnapped by Kid, you were a virgin since you were always afraid of being with anyone in case your designation was somehow uncovered. With both Kid and Shanks, you’d never been allowed to take the lead - you weren’t even sure what that would look like.  There wasn’t a time you’d had sex with Shanks when you weren’t in heat and you didn’t remember most of the times when you did. You leaned back from Shanks’s neck and took the hem of his shirt with shaking fingers. As you started to raise it over your head, Shanks’s hand caught your forearm softly. 

“We don’t have to rush. There’s nowhere to go, nothing we need to do. We can take our time,” he said into your ear, his beard scratching your cheek. Shanks had stopped shaving a few days prior, the red stubble now an attractive short beard. Your breath hitched as you bit your lip - maybe he didn’t like what you were doing? You’d heard a moan a little while ago - should you bite him again, or maybe kiss him, or-

“Have you ever been on top?” Shanks asked, biting your earlobe gently after he finished speaking. 

“No,” you whispered back, flushing furiously at your lack of experience. You’d done a poor job of initiating, and now he was going to take over, you thought as you braced yourself to be pushed backwards onto the bed. 

“You can be, if you want. I’ll be good for you,” Shanks said teasingly with a genuine smile into the skin of your neck.  He practically purred when he continued and his body relaxed into a more familiar posture, “would you like that?”.

To your surprise, instead of flipping you back, Shanks lay down on the bed with you still on his lap. Now your hands landed on his chest as you leaned over him, your calves on either side of his hips. Shanks’s hand pressed on the middle of your back, bringing your face closer to his.

“What do you think?” he asked, a genuine smile lighting his features. You reflected his smile with your own, the sun finally peeking out from behind the clouds after a lengthy storm. 

“I’m not, um, good at this. I don’t know if you’ll like-”

“Don’t worry about what I like,” he hummed as he settled you more comfortably on top of him. “We’ll learn together,” he said as his fingers ran under the hem of his long shirt on your thighs. “Kiss me,” he husked, his hand reaching up to cup your face. Leaning over him, you planted your hands on either side of his head and took in his handsome features. You bent over and lightly kissed the top of the scar on his face, something you’d always wanted to do but had been too fearful to attempt. 

You worked your way down his face, Shanks allowing you to take your time in exploration. When you finally reached his mouth, he parted his lips but didn’t pull you towards him as you expected. You brushed your lips against his own as Shanks thrust up into you lightly, his heels digging into the bed. He whined as you kissed him again, this time allowing his tongue to sweep into your mouth. Shanks pulled you closer but only to kiss you deeper as he fought his own urge to take control. 

Breaking the kiss, you leaned even closer and began to nibble down his jaw. Shanks pressed himself into you, his hand returning to your thigh to increase the pressure on his aching cock.

“Please,” Shanks groaned as you worked your way down his neck. For the first time, it almost felt like you held power in your hands - one of the strongest men on the planet was whining beneath you, begging for you. It wasn’t real power in the same way as Kid or Shanks or anyone who could fight, but it was something for an Omega like yourself, you supposed. 

You lifted yourself onto your knees and pushed Shanks’s shirt up towards your waist to reveal your now glistening core. Shanks’s hand immediately found its way to its familiar resting place on your ass. After a quick squeeze, you heard the sound of Shanks unbuckling his belt as you leaned down to kiss him again. Shanks shuffled slightly, removing his pants without dislodging you with considerable skill. You felt the tip of his cock prodding at your backside so you reached behind you to feel for it. Your hand couldn’t wrap around its girth as you stroked him lazily. Shanks hissed as your hand continued to work him, your eyelids drooping as you watched Shanks close his eyes and pant wantonly.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, his hand gripping your thigh so tightly you knew there would be bruises the coming day. You placed your hand over his own to move his hand from your thigh to your core. Shanks immediately started running his long fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them liberally. He started to rub at your entrance but quickly moved to your clit, unable to decide where to touch you first. The rough pads of his fingertips started rubbing you, and you clenched in anticipation. You removed his hand from beneath you, wanting to concentrate on your actions. Shanks put his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence from them as if it were nectar of the gods.

“I need you,” Shanks growled, taking his fingers and putting them near your own mouth.

 As much as he was letting you take the lead, Shanks was still an Apex Alpha who was allowing this exercise to continue. You nodded and sidled backwards, positioning him at your entrance. Using your fingers you spread your folds to get the head of his cock poised to enter you. You lowered yourself down on his cock slowly, savoring the stretch as you sank down until your thighs met his own. You bit down on your lip as you closed your eyes, the pleasure intensifying with every inch he was further inside you. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Shanks said softly, his hand returning to rub at your clit. You opened your eyes as you continued biting your lips. This wasn’t like your heat, where everyone was off the ship. You knew for a fact there were crew milling about the ship, working and relaxing nearby. “Please, Love, let me hear you,” Shanks begged with a soft smile. You nodded and opened your mouth, but no sounds came out other than your panting.

“Start to rock on me, find what feels good for you,” he suggested in a low voice, his fingers continuing to tease. You shifted forwards and backwards as you continued to adjust to his size. It was difficult to believe that you’d taken him so many times during your heat, crying and calling out for him numerous times a day, even multiple times an hour. 

“Try moving your hips in a circle hah t-that’s it,” he crooned as you gyrated on him. Shanks’s heels dug into the bed once again as he resisted the urge to bounce you on his cock. “J-ust like that, s-so perfect,” he stuttered out, holding you in place for a moment to grind into you before returning his hand unerringly to your clit. You felt stuffed full as the band in your lower stomach wound tighter and tighter. 

It wasn’t as easy being on top as you thought. You wanted to please Shanks but couldn’t bounce yourself as quickly as he could thrust into you. You tried a rhythm that worked for you as you leaned forward to shift your weight onto your hands, lowering and raising yourself rapidly. You whined as your quads burned with the effort to continue your pace, but you didn’t want to stop. It felt like you couldn’t move fast enough for what you needed, though riding Shanks did feel pleasurable. You shifted to lean back and put your hands on his shins.

“I can’t c-come like this…c-can you…,” you trailed off, hoping that Shanks would understand the unasked request. Shanks laughed without malice and pulled you to lean over him again.

“We can practice again later, you did so well for your first time,” he said with a bright smile. You squeaked as he shifted and quickly rolled you both over so that you were now on your back, your legs still wrapped around him. “But you need something else, yeah?” he said with a grin as he shifted one of your legs over his shoulder. You did the same with the other, caught in a wicked mating press as Shanks settled his weight over you. It felt like he was melding his essence with your own as he began moving, thrusting deep within you.

Every movement he made hit your g-spot as Shanks also started licking your scent gland. He would whisper compliments to you in between nibbles and bites, which only drove your desire further.

“Such a good little Omega, so p-pretty, did such a nnh good job riding me…you need me, hm? Need this from me, just like I need y-you. Such a sweet hneh Omega…” Shanks continued a steady babble of soft praise as he pounded into you, his pace ever increasing. You tried not to hold back your sounds and close your eyes like he’d asked, but it was difficult to stay in the present as pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. Tears pricked your eyes at the mounting sensations, the coil in your gut winding increasingly tighter.

“Sh-aaanks!” you cried as you came around his length, your vision fading to white. You reared back your head and impulsively bit his own glands which were tantalizingly close to your mouth. He didn’t let up for a moment, fucking you without abandon as he roared his own orgasm, his hot come spurting inside you. 

As you came back down, you heard someone moaning and whimpering, only to realize it was coming from your own mouth. You hadn’t actually marked Shanks by penetrating his skin but if he had fucked you any harder, you weren’t sure you’d ever walk right again. Shanks was still stroking your clit so you whined and pushed his hand away. 

“C’n you give me one more?” he asked, his beard scratching at your neck. You shook your head weakly, unsure if you’d survive another round. “Aw, c’mon, Love. Just one more,” he said with a smile. You let out a light humph and removed your legs from around him, letting them splay to either side. Shanks laughed again and shifted the two of you to let you lie on his chest. “S’ok, you can rest,” he said, kissing the top of your head as you yawned. 

You laid down on top of the Alpha, content to let him take control from here on out. You’d finally coaxed him out of his bad mood and helped him regulate his emotions, which in turn was helping your own. You weren’t sure if you acted from self preservation or your base Omega instincts, but either way you felt content as you listened to the steady heartbeat of the Alpha beneath you.

Shanks POV

Shanks rubbed the back of the sleeping of the Omega in his bed, pulling the covers up higher on your body as you napped. Shanks was awake after the love making session, though you’d worn yourself out. He was pleased for you to have some true rest after the days of anxiety had worn you down. You finally trusted him enough to relax again in his presence, secure in the safety he provided for you.

The bite on his neck stung a little but it was the sweetest pain he’d ever felt. He tried to use his haki to determine if there was any headway into making a connection with the Omega but couldn’t detect anything different. Though a touch disappointing, he wouldn’t be concerned until after he marked you during your upcoming heat. Based on the medication he’d been giving you in the tea, you’d be in heat in about a week. Just as the Red Force was able to dock at another island. 

Shanks rubbed the bite gingerly, wishing that none of your shallow tooth marks would fade from his skin. It was funny - he had lost his left arm saving Luffy, gotten a facial scar on his left hand side from Teach, and now had an Omega’s bite on the left side of his neck. Significant events in his life were written in flesh and blood on his body, available for all to see. Well visible for a little while, until you made it permanent.

As Shanks watched over you sleeping, you let out a little sigh and nuzzled further into his chest, seeking his protection and warmth. Shanks let out a satisfied hum of his own - he’d finally won you over, you’d chosen him for protection, for connection, for love. All that was left was to seal it. 

Taglist: @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle @whore-of-many-hot-men @one-piecelover @anemonyee @joana7654-blog @mfreedomstuff @littlelovebug98 @hannya-writes @babi-lamb @sanjisleggy @princessuta061108 @twismare @iamrgo @littlelovebug98 @anonymousmuffinbear

[professional-rat-eater]

I do like the concept of Daniel attempting to point out Armand’s extensive trauma from Marius’s treatment because I do think as someone who spent his career cataloging the horrors the world has to offer and has no issue calling things out for exactly what they are, he’d not be able to entertain the bullshit Armand says to justify it. That just feels in character for the man we’ve gotten to know.

However, I do not think it would help. In fact, I think it’s important that it doesn’t.

I think Daniel would learn the hard way, likely through a number of ugly, ugly arguments, that Armand is much too deep in this trauma for merely pointing out the obvious to actually be helpful. It’s cathartic to read fics where Armand gets to heal but often I think it happens far too quickly. He has demonstrated already that he knows what happened to him wasn’t all okay, though to what degree he knows this we haven’t heard in detail as of yet.

What we do know is that it has been sitting in his mind for hundreds of years, undisturbed, blending in with all his other trauma, silently shaping who he is and informing his decisions. That’s perhaps the most difficult part. Most human beings with intense traumas spend their entire lives unpacking it. Imagine if you had centuries between you and what happened to you.

Daniel is the first person Armand has met who both has a modern worldview where abuse is simply labelled abuse and is actually invested in him enough to notice and point it out.

What I do hope and believe could happen, though I doubt we’d see it because these bitches are messy and we’d need fifty more books/seasons to cover it, is that Daniel is able to help Armand, not as someone who is there to save him and ‘fix’ him, but as his companion and someone who loves him as people are supposed to be loved. He can only help him as much as an outside person who was not a witness can, so the majority of the work still lies on Armand and that means Armand has to want to do it. It’s slow, and painful and they fight about it all the time, but they don’t give up.

It’s important that it’s because Daniel loves him, not because it’s his job to change him. When you love someone you don’t want them to suffer, and he spent his mortal life piecing people’s stories together. He helped Louis make sense of his past and demonstrated that it wasn’t out of some ruthless desire to be the one to get the story. He grew to care about Louis. And this is Armand. He’s in love with him, so the investment is even deeper.

When I say it takes a long time, I mean longer than any average human would have, especially since for a very long time, Venice actually was the only bright spot in Armand’s existence. I think I’d look back on it fondly too, and now he has to contend with completely recontextualising it. But look at what the first five hundred years of life turned Armand into. Where could he be in the next five hundred? They have so much time to figure it out.

I don’t even need to see it, it’s just a comforting thought to believe that it could happen.

(And it goes without saying this is a mutual thing. Armand could help Daniel grow in ways we cannot even conceive, but that in itself is an entirely separate post.)

[redux-iterum]

how does one come up with a plot. im worldbuilding and character building but im struggling to make an actual plot

the only thing i got are themes of the fear of death and religious trauma :shrug:

This may be a pointless ramble, bear with me.

There are a couple different ways that people develop stories. I've heard some folks like to decide on a message they want to send and build the plot, characters and world around that (environmental opinions, questions about how handle grief healthily, etc). Others take a setting they've developed and make a plotline out of the natural issues that come up from that setting (severe class divide, elements of nature going out of control, etc). There's also people (like me) who start with one of the three factors of a story (plot, characters, worldbuilding) and sort of build them at the same time as each other, so they're woven together.

But for actual ideas...I can't really speak to your sort of creative mind, because I don't know how your brain functions, but I'll describe how my stories come to me. Hopefully it'll help you.

My favored path to a story, setting, or character is inspiration. I'll see something I really like that speaks to me (or is just plain fucking cool) and I'll take it and develop how I want to do it my way.

For example, I really love the concepts described in Downtrodden (which you all should look at, it’s so sick): small animals in a world with beasts much larger and more dangerous than them, having to rely on their own cunning and abilities to survive, complete with an interesting culture and unique interpretations of other animals for different races. So I took that and ended up making multiple settings with my own personal spin on them - one with bipedal cats as the dominant race but every animal, including their livestock, is still the same size as in our world; one in a book I’m working on now with regular prey animals in a redwood forest; and one with unicorn-people who have to destroy corpses so they don’t automatically come back as shambling zombies thanks to the earth’s desire to negate death. The materials and coats of paint are entirely different, but the core inspiration is still there. I just saw something I liked and said, “Now, how would I do it?” In the process of molding it to my liking, it changed enough to not be just a repeat of something someone else did better.

The same is to be said for story ideas. While it is just a fix-it fic, for Iteurm, Lynx and I saw Warriors as it is, used the plot as a baseline, and ended up coming up with things that are a far cry from canon (which you’ve seen in the worldbuilding and will be seeing a lot more of in the third arc’s plotline). One original project, Seeker, was inspired by Moonstuck, Prequel and all of MSPaintAdventures – I liked the idea of interacting with player commands, and worked that into the story as a major plot point. In every instance, I wanted to play with a concept someone else did, and it became its own unique thing by virtue of being done by a different person with different opinions, ideas and desires. It can follow beats or slither the same general pathway of a movie I watched (or whatever), but it’s still its own thing, and you didn’t have to claw at your brain trying to figure out something “new” and “original” (which is the most blatant lie artists tell themselves – there is nothing new under the sun, and trying to go so different to everyone else will just fuck you over).

The main key for this method is that you are saying it with your voice and your interpretations of the world around you. A lot of people just blatantly copy something someone else did without thinking about why they were so inspired, and what specific themes and concepts lit a fire in them. Taking from multiple stories helps with this, because in order to make them fit together, you HAVE to say it your way.

I recommend watching this section of C-Puff’s video about My Adventures With Superman, because she says a lot of this way better than I did, and it’s a good place to start thinking about stories in general.

I have no idea how helpful this will be, but it’s about the best I could do. Feel free to send something in if this failed to answer anything.

[bartywinter]

change · @taylorswiftmicrofic · andreil · wc: 770

“Choose,” Andrew ordered as soon as Neil walked through the door, pointing to the television with his chin. “This one?” The Bourne Identity flashed on the screen. “Or this one?” The screen changed to Dune.

Neil arched his eyebrows as he set his backpack down on the nearest pouf.

“You’re suggesting watching a movie about a guy who spends his whole life on the run.”

Andrew gave him a bored look.

“Are you deaf? I gave you two options.” He didn’t wait for Neil to answer, but put on Dune instead. “You’ve got ice-cream in the freezer.”

“From Sweetie’s?” Andrew nodded. “Did you go to Columbia just to buy me ice-cream?”

“Buy us ice-cream,” he corrected.

“Didn't you say yesterday you were getting tired of always going there?”

The annoyance in Andrew’s face was priceless.

“Ninety-five percent.”

Neil walked over to the freezer and took out the ice-cream tub inside.

“You know,” he said as he approached Andrew on the sofa, “you’re quite thoughtful for a person who claims to hate my guts.”

Andrew wrapped both arms around his waist and Neil looked down at him. His expression was still as inscrutable as ever, but Neil was used to it by now.

“Are you trying to push the limits on my hate scale?”

Neil shrugged. “I don’t know, am I?”

Andrew pressed his fingertips firmly on his hips.

“Ninety-nine.”

The hint of a faint smile flickered across Neil’s face.

��Almost there.”

He tried to move, so Andrew released him from his grip. He sat next to Andrew on the sofa, leaving enough space between their bodies to ensure Andrew felt at ease, and opened the ice-cream tub while Andrew hit play. He let out a delighted sigh as he leaned against the backrest. Other than the night’s training with Kevin, he hadn’t done any physical exertion so far that day, but the three exams he’d taken in a row had made him as tired as if he’d played in an exy match. If he fell asleep, he would be in trouble, for Andrew would get cranky when he dozed off watching a movie together. That’s when he realised he was stupid. He should have picked The Bourne Identity —all the chasing and shooting would have helped him stay awake. However, Andrew’s attention was already fixed on Dune and he didn’t want to disturb his peace. He would have to find another way to distract himself.

He didn’t register he had been watching Andrew for a while until he caught his eye.

“Don’t stare.”

Neil didn’t move an inch.

“I’m not.”

Andrew grabbed his chin and stared at him for a few seconds, the only sounds in the room coming from the television and the fridge. He then forced Neil to turn his face to look at the screen.

“Watch the fucking movie.”

“The exams fried my brain,” Neil admitted, “I’m sorry.”

Andrew let go of his chin and paused the movie. Neil guessed he would be upset, yet no trace of irritation was on his face when he closed the distance between them on the couch and faced him again.

Neil tilted his head in curiosity.

“What?”

“How did the exams go?”

Neil repressed the urge to scream and kiss him.

“I’m not sure I’ll pass Maths.”

Andrew lifted his hand to his curls and he instantly leaned into his palm, touch-starved as he always was when it came to Andrew.

“You will.”

Neil chuckled softly.

“Okay, I will.” He brushed his lips over Andrew’s hand and he noticed some emotion in his expression. “Yes or no?”

Andrew seemed to be collecting his thoughts before answering. Neil never made any new approach without his permission and Andrew’s response varied depending on the day, but he didn’t care. Andrew needed time and, fortunately, they now had all the time in the world.

“Just one.”

Neil nodded and pressed his lips on Andrew’s skin softly, who stirred on the couch slightly and watched him with the same intensity that had been in his gaze during their previous intimate encounters in the bathroom or the bedroom. There was one difference, though: this time, it was Andrew who was receiving the affection.

“C’mere,” he commanded and Neil rested his head on his shoulder, something he only did when Andrew was willing to share his living space with him. He soon felt a strong arm around his back holding him in place. “Take a nap. I’ll stay here.”

Neil placed his hands on his own lap and closed his eyes. That afternoon he dreamt of Andrew, two cats and a lovely house in the countryside.

[thatbitchery]

& while networking remember to stay as far away as possible from the political social justice warrior fuck the system cancel king virtue signalling godess with paragraphs about a celebrity they've never met change the world paper straw for climate activist whatever. The second someone makes an external locus point their personality pack your bags and walk, that's a losers table you're being set up for failure.

Now I want you to be very careful, I'm not saying stay away from people that care about these things, anyone with a working brain cell knows most of these are noble, I'm saying acting like you care about the world will do nothing but bite you in the behind later. You're a woman. You're a woman in a man's world. You're a matriach in a patriarchy. How does this not click to women, every single thing you ever say and do will be used against you in the high court of life- and not just by men. By women, too. When your level up gurus says be mean she's on to everything, be mean. Be a carnivore and be materialistic and be an overconsumer- that will do you a billion times more favors than trying to identify with some good cause. You can never be good. The world will never let you, so be bad. Be shitty.

First of all it's a fumbling of your bag- gravely so- to think you can fix the world. Unless the thing directly affects you and yours it makes absolutely no sense to loudly and publicly care about it unless you're a pickmeisha . I remember when the Palestine and Israel made news 24/7 for their whatever and I had this one socialite friend that decided it's her time to be humane. I'm not in social media so I'm always falling behind in the news. One day this other girl texts me asks do you see what (Lets call her Sara) has been posting on Instagram? Obviously no I haven't so I get screenshots. It's noble to support a cause but as a social media influencer whose entire brand is based on sponsorships by major brands its important you maintain political neutrality, this is just common sense. So I say yes it's stupid to have all your pinned posts highlighting a struggle that is not only not yours but you also benefit from but how is this my business? Why is this something you wanted me to know? They work at the same agency so she tells me Sara was supposed to do an ad for CocaCola and run a campaign for a sizeable amount of money but just lost it because Coca Cola is, according to the public, pro-Israel, and the agency as a whole has been disconsidered for any future brands that are pro-Israel (And we know these are the big billions) , can I talk to her about this because if she does it'll look like workplace competition? I wear my mother boots and alright, let us save a career. I see Sara over lunch and say hey so how's the going? I was lurking on your Instagram the other day, how come you didn't tell me you're Palestinian? She laughs because she's actually full European but it doesn't hurt to care, does it? I say yeah I get the point but you need to take all that shit down for the sake of your career and post positive quotes that focus on humanity if you're so concerned but we don't pick sides? She says well Bella Hadid is Pro Palestine- Okay but a) Are you Bella Hadid? and b) Are you Palestinian? It makes perfect sense for Bella Hadid to loudly be Pro Palestine she IS Palestinian and she's Bella Hadid, Versace will still want her on their runway even if she wrote a ten-billion-page anti Italy manifesto. SHE is the brand. You have 300k followers and most are bots, let's not. SO now you're costing your agency that pay YOUR bills brand deals while you walk around in Levi's and Bulgari how tone deaf are you? Obviously we fall out and her agency drops her, except agencies are a network so if A drops you B doesn't want you all the way to D, and they WILL withdraw the bot followers they used to bump you up it is in fact that serious. The way this industry works if you get blacklisted by A you're blacklisted by them all, and where are the Palestinians you fought so much for? The way upper society works if you fall out with A you've fallen out with them all- no one wants to shoulder the burden of you.

I remember watching this clip of this lady explaining how capitalism sucks and the comments was everyone calling her out on her iPhone and watch all the things capitalism has given her.

Being a social justice warrior will always backfire because

a) it's an outward locus point so it marks you as a lower-class person. Caring about things that do not directly affect you or you aren't getting paid to care about immediately marks you for someone to get bullied because you are a pickmeisha seeking approval outside yourself.

b) YOU benefit from injustice. Your phone was made by the exploitation of laborers in China. Your human hair wig comes from a ten year old Asian kid that had to sell it for 10$ to feed her family. Your favorite jeans are filling landfills and your gold watch exists because some kid almost died in a mine. Your favorite dessert- you benefit from injustice. You are quite literally biting the hand that feeds you.

So it's better to Kim Kardashian post your jet and walk in closet and say yes, I'm rich yes i took a five-minute flight that raised global warming to Europe to try a dessert than it is to Greta Whatshername campaign for the planet because no one cares. Donate to charities and care for what you care about but do not make it your personality- and given birds of the same feather flock together stay away from Knightess In Dumb Armor about to save the world through the power of a social media post and a hashtag. Unless you're JK Rowling so rich it can not affect you mind your business. Be strategic about what you publicly care about. As a feminist yes I care about survivors and victims and will donate give a platform but as someone navigating high society why would I tell Epstein Junior actually you'll go to hell for being a pedophile when he can just have me dropped off the streets tomorrow? Did that end pedophilia? Are the kids now safe? Is he in hell? Exactly what did I accomplish? Could've kept my mouth shut and scored a million dollar deal then donated and paid for what needs to be paid for and stayed alive?

BMAC

[kk-iki]

May I also add, yapping ahead. Sorry.

It’s kind of off putting when writers make the men “change for the reader” this belief that women are mean tot change men for the better is pushed so much by any media. What I mean is, we often see that men become soft because of their mothers, girlfriends, female friends showing them they can be soft. But it should never ever be considered as woman’s responsibility to make a man decent human being. We should not be happy that we made a man empathetic. Because he couldn’t get to that point himself. It’s weird. You don’t need or should fix anyone. (Real life specifically!!!)

Anyway as a raging feminist I do have some strong takes on everything because when you live your world being present and critical of the issues you can’t just look past them. However, as I said read what you like, if you don’t skip - it’s not about censorship and never will be. But it’s important to point things like this out because I don’t know decency I suppose.

Also I will be so sure to dm you when I write something worth posting (working on like five stories at once but snail pace because I never wrote anything longer than diary poetry level T_T)

hi again, baby. please, never apologize for yapping. i said it before and i'll happily say it again; i adore when people come into my inbox or my messages to share their thoughts with me. and i want to preface this by saying that everything you've written here, i absolutely agree with.

"[...] it should never ever be considered as woman’s responsibility to make a man decent human being."

this, this, THIS. when a man says he wants a girlfriend, that should mean he's looking for a girlfriend, not a mother figure or a therapist.

i think that it's just a little peculiar how one girl's presence is going to make these war - weary, hardened soldiers suddenly switch up and become the ideal partner. it's not only promoting this strange narrative that women are responsible for teaching men emotional maturity because they're 'naturally more emotional', but it's also just. . .not realistic.

i see this a lot with ghost and price fics, specifically. it's just a little ridiculous because a) there's an implication that the older a man is, the less in tune he is with his emotions, and b) there's also an implication that the younger a man is, the more in tune he is with his emotions.

personally, i feel like this is all a bit backwards ( something about age bringing experience ), but i'm someone who writes the kinds of things people in this fandom aren't interested in, so what weight do my words hold?

bottom line: if you are not emotionally prepared for a relationship, you absolutely should not go into one thinking that your partner will make you prepared. that is not what they signed up for, and that is not something you should be putting on them.

my dms are always open, baby. hit me up anytime; i'd love to see what you're working on. thank you so much for the ask.

[andy-the-irregular]

I just read 'The Secret of Sherlock Holmes'. It was FANTASTIC. So many great lines. It also made me very emotional at a variety of points. For instance:

:,)

If you are a Granada Holmes enthusiast, or a Sherlock Holmes one in general, I would highly recommend it!

[tarraxahum]

This was gonna be a reply to a reply but I thought maybe I should just make my own post. Yes this is about Vi again.

It's no secret that "Vi should've fought for Zaun" and the expectation of her being Vander's prodigy and feeling like the plot dropped the ball on her in that regard and the betrayal at the fact that she's living comfortably in Piltover now are. Frequent sentiments in the fandom. Which I get, but also I feel that this line of expectations is. Diverging from who Vi actually is by the end and what she was realistically capable of.

Vi in season 2 is basically running on fumes and because she has no other options. It is a well known thing in irl activist spaces that to participate in any kind of fight for justice you need to take care of yourself, otherwise you won't have the energy to be any kind of useful to your community. Ekko also says this - "It's not enough to give people what they need to survive, you have to give them what they need to live". Vi has been surviving and not living in any shape or form for years, she's exhausted and broken in places. That's no mental state to fight for Zaun or make any kinda change. I think it's extremely realistic and human and hardly a flaw of writing or the character if by the end the only thing she was able to do was collapse into the safety and peace she was offered for the first time in forever (aka Caitlyn). It's clear that in her last scene she's still recovering mentally - Cait seems to be excited to have any sign of life (singing) from her at all, and the "Are you still in this fight?" question is very loaded. (But it's indicated that Vi is very much still in the fight, so? It's really anyone's guess what she'll do once she's healed and remembers how to live. And don't bring up LoL's Vi brutality thing, it's clear they're different characters).

I think in wanting to see Vi stand up for Zaun or be Vander's prodigy we often deny her the flaw of being a breakable human and forget just how much she's held together by duct tape. Just because she was full of this 'fuck Piltover' fire as a kid doesn't mean she is still capable of matching that energy. Sometimes after lots of trauma humans grow up into tired adults who just want to sit down and feel safe regardless of where it happens and how questionable it might look (re: living in Piltover). Not to mention, that even as a child Vi's main reason for fuming at the Topside was wanting safety for her family and herself. Well, now she's all out of family, she's estranged from the community of Zaun thanks to being in prison for 7 years and Silco changing the place so much, and the only person who's offering her safety and not more fighting (which she's exhausted and thoroughly burnt out from!) is Caitlyn, so. How is where she ended up any kind of surprising or a failure of her writing/character?

Yes, a lot of people wanted a revolutionary, no, Vi isn't one. Dare I say, never really was one. At her lowest, when she's got no one left to protect, she's not trying to fill in that void by taking on protecting Zaun and becoming a vigilante or something, no, she spirals. That is not something on her radar, that's not something she's visibly cut out to do, she cares so so much but on a smaller scale. Even the whole shimmer factory debacle was less about Zaun and more about her desire to hurt Silco personally for what he'd done to her family. If Jinx agreed to run away with her back at the tea party Vi would ditch the entirety of Zaun (potentially leaving it to Silco forever since he's still alive at that point) in a heartbeat to keep her sister and save Cait in one move. She puts on an enforcer uniform BECAUSE she cares for Jinx (through convincing herself that at the very least she should take her out of her misery herself rather than leaving it to people who don't care, yes) and Cait both.

Perhaps a hot take, but not becoming a leader despite being good at taking hits to the head and caring about people in general and being a daughter of one does not make Vi a badly written character or a bad person. It just makes her a person. And a character whose arc culminated in choosing herself. And choosing yourself sometimes means leaving the fight to others (perhaps temporarily, considering the final dialogue). And that's okay.

Arcane is tragedy about flawed people, not a feel-good story about a successful revolution and rich people paying for their crap, and it was never going to be. Ergo one of our main character isn't an upcoming hero in shining armor who was allegedly robbed of her potential. She's just a broken young woman who barely knows how to keep her own little life together and her biggest victory by the end is allowing herself to take a breath and live for once. Yes, while her home down there is still in shambles. Yes, that sounds selfish. For some people a bit of selfishness is the greatest thing they can ever learn for themselves.

[twosetmeridian]

looking outward with you (together)

[misiahasahardname]

i feel like if team amazon lost in ‘i see london’ instead of team chris (which they should’ve, btw), the plot would be more interesting.

alejandro is mad about the things noah said about him, and is now hellbent on trying to get him eliminated.

he knows that noah doesn’t trust him, so manipulating him would be pointless, but he also knows that noah and owen have an unbreakable friendship, and that owen is gullible as shit, so he could easily turn owen against noah, throw the next challenge while sabotaging noah, and boom! an interesting noah elimination that makes MUCH more sense than just making team chris lose for no reason.

also, having amazon eliminate a player and replace the player with duncan would still be interesting, and you could still do the gwuncan/duncney plot (and it might turn out more interesting since they’d all be on the same team)

i dunno though, those are just my thoughts

[victorlincolnpine]

a disappointing amount of anti-capitalists and "revolutionaries" really can't be bothered to actually go and make change

they just say "gee, that'd be nice, but…" and then pretend like they can't do shit

there's a reason why we can't: we're all sitting on our hands so there's no collective force

[firebirdsdaughter]

…

[3hks]

How to Write a Character with THAT *Sad Aura*

Have you ever stumbled upon a character, who, despite radiating wholesome, positive energy, also has a subtle undertone of sadness? It's kind of intriguing, isn't it? If you've ever wanted to write a perhaps more complex character or explore writing emotions, why not check this out?

What am I talking about?

Let's do a quick introduction as to what I mean. I've said this a couple times already, but to the reader, this character feels despondent even though they act nothing like it. This doesn't mean they have to act happy all the time (like my first example); they might act cold, or apathetic, but the point is they don't act visibly sad.

This faint melancholic mood provides a charming, or even nostalgic feel to the audience through ONE character! Isn't that kind of fun?

Eye Expressions

This character will not show sadness on their face--that contradicts the idea of "sad aura". But you know what they say, right? Eyes are the windows to the soul; they do not lie!

When trying to highlight some of this unhappiness, write about their eyes. Talk about how their eyes look oddly dim sometimes when they smile, or how they don't meet their friend's eyes when they laugh. These cues are simple but powerful.

Adverbs

You always have to be mindful of adverbs, but here especially, adverbs (and adjectives) unconsciously influence how your audience views the character.

For example, avoid saying too much of "smiled brightly" or "talked excitedly". If these are the adverbs you purposefully want to use to portray your character, then by all means! However, these adverbs add a happier connotation, which you must be aware of. If you want something more neutral (which I recommend for the most part), consider using lighter adverbs/adjectives, such as "smiled softly", or "offered lightly".

Reasons

A reason is normally needed for almost everything. Here, you want genuine reasons to back up why your character doesn't ask for help, thus forcing them to work through their unhappiness alone.

This could be because they think other people can't solve the problem, they don't want to bother others, they don't think their issue is a big deal, or they simply believe there's no solution.

Physical Hints

And if all this isn't enough, then drop some physical hints! Perhaps your character gets distracted often, tends to hesitate before speaking, deflects concerned comments with jokes, or has a hard time acknowledging reassurances, even when it's unrelated to their personal troubles. These habits suggest the idea your character has more than meets the eye.

Mood Changes

When people are upset, their mood tends to fluctuate. For most of us, we're typically upset for a short period, so we cycle through emotions such as anger, sadness, and even joy during these moments.

However, if your character is consistently sad, not just for a day or two, their mood might shift on different days. Maybe they're really tired one day, hardly speaking. Maybe the next, they are more frustrated, snapping at people or ignoring them. Maybe the day after that, they are overly energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking all the time, providing a bit of whiplash.

Purpose

Similar to having a reason for their reluctance of reaching out, you also want to ensure that they have a purpose for fighting. Why haven't they given up yet? This is especially crucial when considering the real world, where feeling upset leads to a lack of motivation.

So, what keeps them going, then? Do they want to fix their regrets? Do they want to change?

Backstory and Actions

To be honest, I wouldn't consider a backstory an absolute necessity, but I highly suggest creating one. Why? Because you can accurately identify the reason for your character's guilt, regret, and sorrows from the past with an actual backstory.

The events of your character's past always influence their future actions.

For example, if they were a part of a severe car accident in the past, perhaps they only feel comfortable when they are the driver in the future because that means they can control the car.

Conclusion

This character is not especially different from any other character, besides the fact that they are neither obvious nor overly secretive of their genuine feelings.

With that being said, focus on embodying their eye expressions, be careful about which adverbs and adjectives you choose to use--I recommend choosing ones with more neutral connotations for a sense of melancholy, explain why your character keeps their sadness to themselves and why they keep fighting despite it, show mood fluctuations, drop physical hints, such as actions and/or specific personality traits, and make sure to connect their past to their present!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

i don't know what to do

[teaboot]

Okay so like. You know your own name as a kid, right?

You remember how it sounds, how your parents say it, how your friends say it- you learn how to spell it, and maybe even what it means and why it was given to you, and it's yours.

It's not a tangible, physical thing, like your hair or your fingernails, but it's yours. It belongs to you.

So, like. Imagine there comes a point in life where everyone gets their name tattooed to their forehead, or something.

Could be when they're two. Could be when they're twenty. Hell, it could be when they're eighty, or ninety-nine, or whenever. But it's everybody, and it's inevitable, and it happens.

Now imagine the time comes for you, and you get up after and look in the mirror and realize they spelled it wrong.

And you have to go outside and live your life in a world where everybody is so totally used to knowing people's names on sight that not a single person second-guesses that your parents named you Susam, or Ahley, or Benjabib.

And you know it's wrong, every time you hear it, but you can choose to explain every single time- every time you're called in a coffee queue, every time a teacher picks you in class, every time you meet a new person or bump into a stranger or are greeted on the street, by children and employers and door-to-door salesmen and your fucking waitress- or you can kind of just learn to grit your teeth and ignore it.

You still notice, of course- maybe you learn to accept it, maybe you hate it every time, but whether you do anything about it or not, you still know. You know people have the wrong word for you in your head.

You know they still mean YOU, but it's not you.

So what's your solution?

Do you shrug, decide it doesn't matter, and go about your life?

Do you smear the typo over with foundation, pencil in new letters every morning?

Do you stare into the mirror sometimes and think, "wow, I should really get that fixed"?

Maybe you save up your money and get it removed, or covered up, or changed to something else. Maybe the whole damn thing was wrong, and you've been a Jacob running around as a Hailey this whole damn time.

That's the best way to explain it. It's not an easily-provable thing, or a demonstrable thing, or a feeling I can one-for-one substitute as something else-

but that's what it's like to know you're not a girl.