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sincerelyneo · 2 days ago

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so high school | l.hc

“no one’s ever had me. not like you…”

📀now playing: so high school by taylor swift

❯ summary: Hyuck doesn’t care that high school was years ago; after learning his girlfriend’s experience was shitty, he’s determined to rewrite it for you. After all, he’s nothing if not smitten.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, eventual smut

❯ words: 6.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, swearing, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, lots of gendered female terms, slight begging, brief possessiveness and jealousy bc it’s me, a brief cheating accusation but it’s stupid, hyuck being a cute boyfriend for 6k words.

an: did someone say haechan lover boy smut for valentine’s day? (they didn’t, lol. i wrote this for me, i love men in love)

“I fucking loved high school,” Hyuck says, placing down his yearbook on the coffee table.

It had to be a few years old by now, stuffed at the back of one of your bookshelves. You’d found it while doing an annual declutter and handed it to him on a whim. Knowing your boyfriend, you figured he’d find it nostalgic, or funny, or both.

You glance at him from your spot on the couch, eyebrow arched. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shifts, sitting up straighter.

“You were on the football team, babe. Voted prom king, had good grades, and probably never had to eat lunch alone,” you list off, counting on your fingers for dramatic effect. “I’d be shocked if you did hate high school.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, sinking back further into the sofa. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little... popular.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips out before you can help it. “A little? I bet you walked through the hallways like you were the lead in a drama or something stupid like that.”

He nods. “Damn right. I was the shit.”

You scoff, tossing a pillow in his direction. He’s such a cocky bastard—but you love that about him.

“Jealous?” he shoots back, smirking.

You try to playfully roll your eyes, but instead, a small frown pulls at your lips. You know he’s just teasing, messing around, but memories of junior and senior year creep into your mind uninvited. You’d never been outright bullied, but high school wasn’t exactly a highlight reel for you.

It was a blur of sitting in the back row, trying to make yourself small enough to avoid attention. Lunches alone in the library. No group of friends. No teenage dream. Dances you skipped, pretending you didn’t care when your chest ached from watching your classmates gush over photos the Monday after.

So yeah, you were a little jealous.

“Yes, actually,” you say finally, voice quieter. “High school sucked for me.”

His grin falters, posture straightening. “What?”

“I mean, it wasn’t all bad,” you rush to explain, suddenly self-conscious. “I got through it, you know? I just wasn’t... you.”

Hyuck leans back, studying you with a look you don’t see often on him—concern, worry. “What do you mean you weren’t me?”

“I wasn’t popular or cool or good at sports. I didn’t have a big friend group, and I definitely didn’t win prom queen…not that I even went.”

Hyuck doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally glance up, you find him staring at you with an expression you can’t quite place. There’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no cocky smile playing at his lips. He just looks... sad.

“Wait,” he says, his voice softer now. “You didn’t go to prom?”

You shrug. “Didn’t really have anyone to go with.”

He blinks at you like you just told him you spent your teenage years stranded on a deserted island, which for the likes of Hyuck, not attending prom was the justified equivalent.

“Are you serious?”

“Hyuck, it’s not a big deal,” you say quickly, waving him off. “High school just wasn’t my thing.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeats. “Babe, prom is like... the peak of high school. It’s the one night everyone remembers forever. How did no one ask you? I can’t wrap my head around that.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the tightness in your chest. “Not everyone peaked in high school, Hyuck. Some of us just... took it for what it was: school.”

His expression softens even more, guilt creeping into his features as he scoots closer, his thigh brushing yours. “You know you deserved better than that, right?”

“Hyuck—”

“I mean it,” he says firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “If I’d been there, you would’ve been my prom queen. Hell, I’d have skipped the whole damn thing just to hang out with you if you didn’t wanna go.”

The honeyed warmth in his voice makes your throat tighten, and you hate how easily he can do this—take the ache of old memories and replace it with something softer, lighter. Something you almost want to believe.

“Too bad we didn’t meet until after high school,” you say, forcing a smile.

Hyuck falters—but only for a moment. His gaze lingers on you as if a thought is forming behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “Too bad.”

You don’t think anything of it when he pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on your head as the conversation drifts elsewhere. But later, when he’s holding you close and you’re half-asleep, Hyuck is still thinking. Planning.

Because Lee Donghyuck might not be able to rewrite your past, but he’s damn sure going to be the best part of your future—trust.

Hyuck just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The coolest person he’d ever met—his girlfriend, his soulmate—hadn’t gotten to live the high school teenage dream. No prom, no stupid corsages, no dancing barefoot at the end of the night because the heels were too much. Nothing.

It didn’t make sense. You were too fucking beautiful to be treated as background noise by those losers. Hyuck remembers the day he met you—a fully grown man—and you made him a stuttering mess. He’s never asked Mark for flirting advice ever in his life, but fuck, he wasn’t about to miss his chance with you.

How could they just disregard you?

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. How did no one ask you out? Were they blind? Or just stupid? What kind of idiot couldn’t see what he saw every day?

The thought of you sitting at home on prom night, like it didn’t matter, made his chest ache. He couldn’t picture it—because you were you, the type of person every cheesy teen movie was written about: beautiful, funny, and so damn perfect. And yet... those assholes in high school had somehow missed it.

And even though the sick, selfish, possessive side of him is so fucking grateful that he’s the only one that’s ever had you, and those assholes missed out, he still can’t help but obsess over it. He couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to, and that realization burned.

Hyuck groans, tipping his head back. “I’m losing it,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

But he couldn’t let it go. And because he was Lee fucking Donghyuck, when something got under his skin, he acted on it. Which is why, two days later, he finds himself standing in the middle of a small-town gymnasium, arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the scene in front of him.

“Is this the best you can do?” he asks, unimpressed.

Mark, balancing precariously on a ladder while stringing up fairy lights, glares down at him. “Dude, shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “You gave us two days to put this together. Do you even know how hard it was to convince the principal? I had to name-drop you!”

Hyuck ignores him, his eyes sweeping over the room again. Mark wasn’t wrong—he had given his friends next to no time to work with. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

A cheap speaker sits on the ground, currently blasting some old prom playlist Mark had found online. The string lights slowly started taking shape, casting a soft glow across the gym. There is a table in the corner with a bowl of something pink and suspicious-looking, and a few chairs scattered around. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.

Mark climbs down from the ladder, dusting his hands on his jeans. “I think it looks fine.”

“Fine?” Hyuck repeats, scoffing. “Mark, this is a high school prom. It’s supposed to be magical or whatever. This just looks like... a school event.”

“Because it is a school event,” Mark shoots back, rolling his eyes. “Look, man, if you wanted a five-star gala, maybe you shouldn’t have sprung this on me last minute.”

Hyuck sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, but he wanted, needed, to do this for you. You’d brushed off your high school experience like it was no big deal, but he could tell it meant something to you. Maybe not in a way you wanted to admit, but it was there.

And now it was his job—no, his mission—to fix it.

“Just... add more lights,” Hyuck says finally. “And maybe some balloons? Chenle, do we have balloons?”

Chenle, who was sweeping the floors, looked back with a shake of his head, scurrying off before he got caught in the crossfire.

Mark groans. “Hyuck, if we add any more lights, the entire gym’s gonna blow a fuse. And no, we don’t have balloons. You’re lucky I even managed to get lights.”

Hyuck sighs again, running a hand through his hair. He had money, sure—that was the only reason he’d managed to rent out the gym on such short notice—but even he couldn’t buy time.

Still, as he looked around the gym, he felt a flicker of pride. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He’d move mountains for you if he had to. And if this half-assed prom was the closest he could get, then so be it.

Mark claps a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Hey,” he says, softer now. “She’s gonna love it, dude. Stop stressing out.”

Hyuck nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend’s acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Hyuck’s always been a little odd—but that’s one of the things you love about him. The endless hobbies he picks up and abandons in a week like juggling, the random facts he collects from late-night YouTube rabbit holes, and his never-ending need to one-up his friends in bets and challenges. But this? This feels different. Like it’s more than some dumb dare or fleeting obsession.

For the past two days, he’s been unusually secretive. You’ve caught him whispering with Mark on the phone more than once, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush whenever you’d walk into the room. And then there was yesterday—when you brought coffee to his rehearsal. You barely stepped inside before the entire group went awkwardly silent, and Hyuck practically herded you back out the door. Hyuck, who usually couldn’t keep his hands off you in public and loved showing you off, suddenly turning shy…suspicious doesn’t even begin to cover it.

And let’s not forget the disappearing act last night. He came home late, shrugging off your questions with a grin and the vague excuse of “guy stuff.” Guy stuff. That was the moment you knew something was up.

And so, you’ve been sitting on the couch, stewing, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. The seconds drag, and with each passing minute, your frustration builds. By the time you hear the jingle of his keys in the door, you’re ready to burst.

Hyuck stumbles in, his hair slightly mussed, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He looks exhausted but excited, strange. He barely gets a foot inside before you’re on him.

“Are you cheating on me?”

His jaw drops, the grin on his face disappearing instantly, eyes blinking at you like you’ve just accused him of arson. You’d honestly prefer it if he had. “What?! No! Why would you even—what the fuck?”

“You’ve been acting so weird!” you snap, crossing your arms. “The sneaky phone calls, the late nights, the whispering, the weird excuses—guy stuff? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

That makes him laugh and you swear you see red. He thinks this is funny? You’ll show him funny.

“If you wanted to break up with me, Hyuck, don’t insult me by sneaking around! Just—just tell me to my face!” Your voice wavers, hurt bubbling in your throat as you glare at him.

Hyuck’s expression softens instantly, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, hey, wait—babe, no. That’s not what’s happening here, I swear.”

You narrow your eyes, pointing at the garment bag. “Oh yeah? What’s that, then? Some outfit for your other girlfriend?”

His mouth drops open, and then he barks out a laugh, though he quickly smothers it when he sees your glare. “No! Oh my God, no. Look, just… this isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he pinches his temples “Could you just go upstairs and put this on, okay?” He holds the bag out to you, practically shoving it into your hands.

“Excuse me?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Just—trust me, babe. Please. Go upstairs, put this on, and come back down when you’re ready.”

You stand there, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. Because he must have. “Hyuck, I am not—”

“Please,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “Just this once. Do this for me. It’ll all make sense.”

His eyes meet yours, and for all the frustration boiling under your skin, you can’t ignore the quiet sincerity in his voice. Because even though his recent actions have been enough to make your paranoia spike, he’s still your Hyuck—and you trust your Hyuck.

With a sharp huff, you snatch the garment bag from his hands and stomp upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind you before he can say another word. Your pulse is racing, irritation curling hot in your chest as you yank the zipper down and pull the dress out with more force than necessary.

It’s beautiful. And that pisses you off even more.

Who does he think he is? Sneaking around all week, ignoring you for days, then showing up with a pretty dress and expecting you to put it on without question?

Annoying. He’s so annoying.

Still scowling, you step into the dress, the silky fabric gliding over your skin like it was made for you, and knowing Hyuck he’d probably ask someone to do that for him. It fits perfectly, hugging every curve, and when you catch your reflection in the mirror, your anger stutters—just for a second. It’s beautiful. You look beautiful.

Damn it.

You swipe at your eyes before anything ridiculous like tears can form and square your shoulders. Fine. You’ll wear the dress. But you’re not going to let him off the hook so easily. Throwing the door open, you march downstairs, irritation simmering beneath the surface of your foundation. “Lee Donghyuck, you better—”

But you freeze.

Because he’s standing at the bottom of the steps in an equally beautiful suit, rocking on his heels, with a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. He’s holding a corsage in his hands—delicate flowers wrapped in silk, matching your dress perfectly.

And then, all at once, it clicks.

That fucking yearbook you found. The conversation that came after it. The sneaking around. The secrecy.

Your breath catches in your throat, warmth creeping up your neck as a blush dusts his skin. He chews his lip, eyes flickering up to meet yours, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d swear he was nervous.

Hyuck never gets nervous.

“Do you wanna rewrite prom with me?”

And just like that, you break.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them, and Hyuck’s smile falters just slightly as he steps forward, hand reaching out to you, as if he’s ready to catch you, to hold you close, if you were to fall. But you don’t fall. You just nod, because it feels impossible to do anything else.

How could you say no to him? How could you possibly deny the one person in the world who would do something like this for you—not because he had to, but because he wanted to, because he loves you to a point you never thought possible because he needs you to be happy.

“I love you,” you choke out through your happy tears, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

Hyuck’s worry shifts into something warmer, something softer. He steps closer, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek to wipe away the tear.

“Does that mean we’re not breaking up, then?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a tenderness underneath, a soft hope in his eyes that mirrors the love you just confessed.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod through blurry eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Not even close.”

His face splits into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen, and before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you into his arms, rocking you side to side like he’s never going to let go. It’s overwhelming—the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne, the steady beat of his heart against your ear. And for once, you let yourself lean into it, let yourself feel just how much he loves you, because God, does he know how to show it.

“I love you too, you know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, meant just for you. “Like, stupidly. Like, I’m gonna remind you every day until you’re sick of me, because I never want you to think I’m cheating on you ever again.”

You huff a laugh, sniffling. “I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, taking in the glassiness in your eyes, the heat in your cheeks. Then, with a smirk, he presses the corsage into your hands. “Your favourite colour.”

“Now,” he says, stepping back and offering his arm, “if we don’t leave soon, Mark might actually rip my balls off.”

It takes you a second to register what he means, and when you glance past him, you see Mark leaning against his car, arms crossed, exuding pure suffering. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, but you know your Hyuck can be very convincing.

“Are you two done?” Mark calls, exasperated. “Because I have better things to do than play chauffeur for your little rom-com tonight.”

“Liar!” Hyuck yells, dragging you toward the car. “If you weren’t here, you’d be playing video games with Chenle or something. Your life is boring and bitchless!”

Mark groans but doesn’t deny it.

“Wait! One more thing,” Hyuck gasps, stopping you just as you’re about to step into the car. Before you can question it, he’s already sprinting back inside. A few seconds later, he bursts through the door, holding up a letterman jacket that doesn’t match your old school’s colours, but his.

And when he drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, his gaze catches on his surname stitched across your back. His cheeks flush that familiar shade of pink, and for once, he’s the one left speechless.

You clutch your hands to the jacket, making sure it doesn’t fall off and you can’t stop smiling. Because even though he was just being a fouled-mouthed menace to his friend. He’s clearly only ever sweet and soft with you. Hyuck opens the car door for you and he slides in beside you, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature, like they belong. You look down at your joined hands, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin, and warmth blooms in your chest.

The corsage, the letterman, the chauffeur to prom. It’s silly. It’s cheesy. It’s the kind of thing you used to roll your eyes at in movies as a teenager. But right now, with him, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because he’s rewriting how you feel about the cheesy stuff, giving you the giddy, reckless kind of love you never got to have.

Letting his hand rest on your thigh, making you stifle your sighs as it slowly crept up your flesh. His touch is heedless and uncaring as if Mark wasn’t inches away in the front seat. It’s compulsive, carless, and so ridiculously juvenile—it’s so high school.

Which feels very on-brand as you pull up to an old brick building. Mark cuts the engine, allowing Hyuck to round the car and open your car door before holding your hand tight and walking you towards the football field.

So many memories flooded back to you as soon as he opened the gate that led to the field. Heels on the grass, on the sacred sanctuary you never had the chance to belong on. Suddenly you’re sixteen again and Hyuck leds you over to the bleachers, climbing up several rows before taking a seat and pulling you down next to him.

"Are we trespassing right now?" you ask, slipping your arms into his letterman to ward off the winter chill. "I know you love me, but you don’t have to commit a crime for me."

Hyuck scoffs, a playful smirk on his lips. "Please, you know I wouldn’t think twice about committing a crime for you if you asked me to." He pauses, then adds, "But no, we’re not trespassing. This is my old high school, and since I'm such an outstanding alumni, I had some strings pulled. They left me the key for tonight."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "So they did all this just for you, huh?"

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for us.”

"Uh-huh," you tease. "I must say, knowing how to ball in high school seems to have its perks. I was in the wrong clubs clearly. You’re basically the only person I know who managed to continue peaking after high school."

Hyuck’s smile falters, a flicker of something sad crossing his face. His eyes drift downward, and you catch that same troubled look he had when you found his yearbook—when he learned how different your high school experiences were. You don’t want him to feel like that, not when he’s trying so hard to fix it. But you don’t want him to fix it either, because as messed up as your teenage years were, they led you to him. No one’s ever had you. Not like him anyway.

You slide your hand over his, squeezing gently as you move closer. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know?”

Hyuck chuckles, that flicker of sadness vanishing as quickly as it came. “Don’t say that. You haven’t even seen what I’ve got planned inside yet. I had all the boys stressed over fairy lights and balloons all week.”

Knowing how much effort he’s put in makes you smile, your fingers drifting up to trace the curve of his cheek. He’s so beautiful. So in love. So undeniably yours.

“I’m excited to see it,” you say. “But right now, I just want to be here. Is that okay? I never really got to hang out on the bleachers.”

“Will you yell at me if I say that a sick part of me loves that you never cheered for other guys playing football?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, undeterred. “Yeah, I wanna kill those assholes for never inviting you to a game, for not taking you to prom. But I also love that I get to be the one to do it with you. Even if we’re adults.”

You bite your lip, feigning hesitation. “Well, I have some information I think you might like.”

Hyuck raises a brow. “Oh?”

“I always wanted to make out under the bleachers,” you admit, heat creeping up your neck. “Call me cliché, but when I was a freshman, I imagined having my first kiss with Lee Felix under there.”

His nose crinkles instantly. “I don’t know who that is, but I hate him.” Hyuck scoffs, but his hands are already sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. “Still… this night is about me making your fantasies come true. So fuck that guy and let me kiss you, baby.”

And you do—let his lips capture yours, kissing you until they’re swollen and puffy, until they mould perfectly to his, like they were always meant to. Until there’s no doubt that they, and you, belong to him.

Hyuck wastes no time, scooping you into his arms with ease, carrying you into the shadows beneath the rickety metal frame. And then his lips are on yours again—hungry, unrelenting. It’s everything you ever imagined. No—better. Because it’s him and you.

His hand trails up your body as he presses you against one of the cold metal pillars, calloused fingers graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Years of football have roughened his touch, but it’s the way he holds you—like he can’t get enough, like he never will—that really makes your breath hitch. And you almost want to laugh, because you’re pretty sure most people fuck after prom, not before it. But this is you and Hyuck. You’ve never played by the rules, never followed the scripted path. You never wanted to.

And that’s exactly why a soft, desperate “Please,” slips from your lips as his fingers venture higher, until they’re brushing against the hem of your panties.

“Cute,” he smiles and murmurs against your lips, grinning as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, his cool touch grazing your clit. You shiver, and it only makes him that more pleased—more proud. His other hand glides up your stomach, sneaking beneath your dress until he’s palming your breast, his thumb teasing over your nipple.

“You know…” he muses, voice dripping with amusement, “I paid good money for this dress. It’d be a shame to ruin it.”

“Please. You’d never buy me a dress you didn’t plan on ruining.”

Hyuck giggles, shaking his head, but before you can run that smart mouth of yours again, his finger slips so easily into your pussy, and you gasp, clinging to his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your ear, voice thick with need. “I love that you know me so well.”

His fingers keep working you, desperate and wild—because if you know Hyuck so well, he knows you even better. Knows your body like it’s his to worship. And when he adds a second finger, stretching you open, pleasure floods through you so intensely your eyes flutter shut, your head tipping back as a moan catches in your throat.

But that won’t do.

Hyuck likes to watch you. Likes to see the way your lips part, the way your brows knit together, the way your pupils blow wide with nothing but him. He wants you to know—no, needs you to know—that he’s the one making you feel this good. That it’s his touch unravelling you, his name you should be thinking about, whimpering, crying out.

So the second your lashes flicker, his fingers slow, teasing, withholding. You whimper, forced to open your eyes again, hazy and weak—just the way he likes them—just the way he needs them to be before he picks up his pace.

He’s meticulous, careful—determined to make you cum right here, right now. If your fantasy was just to make out under the bleachers, Hyuck is going to take it further, push it past anything you ever imagined. He’s going to make you cum here, again and again, until this moment is burned into your memory. Until you can never think about high school, about this field, about these bleachers, without thinking about him. About the way he touched you. About the way he made it perfect. He always makes everything perfect.

“Need you to cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on,” he murmurs, pinching your clit as he tries to coax an orgasm out of you. And it doesn’t take long. The honeyed rasp of his voice, the relentless rhythm of his fingers, the way his eyes stay locked on yours—it’s all too much. You shatter around him with a high-pitched moan.

“Atta girl,” he breathes, watching you with nothing but admiration. “So fucking pretty when you cum for me.”

Your mind is fuzzy, his words melting into white noise as you come down from your high on shaky legs. If it weren’t for the pillar at your back, you’re certain you’d be a puddle on the floor. Hyuck holds you close, his hand stroking your hair as he murmurs soft praises against your ear—something about being so pretty, so good, so his. But all you can focus on is the growing bulge in his pants, the evidence of just how much he wants you. A bulge you put there. One you’re aching to take care of.

You start to drop to your knees, and he sucks in a breath, his eyes locked on yours.

“Stop,” he commands harshly, stepping back as if something’s shifted. It forces you to stand up straight again, confusion crossing your face.

“Don’t you want me to—”

“Oh, I fucking want you to, and you’re going to,” he growls. Then, he peels off his suit jacket and drapes it on the concrete floor between you two. “Now, you can get on your knees for me, Y/N,” he orders, his voice rough and commanding, but then it cracks, desperately. “Please.”

You lower yourself onto his suit jacket, kneeling before him, palms pressing firmly against his thighs. His erection is hard, straining through his suit pants, but he’s waited—waited until he knew you’d be most comfortable because that’s just who he is.

“Look at you,” he says, running his thumb over your mouth. “Puffy lips parted and ready for me. Big fucking eyes, so innocent, so needy.”

“Only for you, Hyuck,” you breathe softly as you start undoing his belt and his jaw visibly ticks.

You’ve sucked his cock before—of course you have, and you love it. And still, he looks at you like it’s the first time, nostrils flaring, pupils dilated, as he drinks in every detail of your eagerness. He’s so hungry to feel you, to get lost in you—so feral.

Using his forefinger, he lifts your chin, forcing your chin and attention on him. “I know, baby. Only me. Always me.”

You run your tongue over your lower lip, and he tracks the entire thing, looking like some kind of predator.

“Take it out.”

You comply, dropping his pants to his ankles and tugging his boxer briefs down with them. His cock springs free, angry veins visible and the tip glistening. The sight of his straining cock right in front of you pulls this desperate sound from deep in his throat. He traces every inch of your face as if he plans to paint it soon, and you’d let him.

His palm glides over your head again, fingers weaving through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep you anchored in place. Rough and dominant—just how he likes it, and just how you crave it.

“I need to fuck your mouth, baby. Seeing you cum in my letterman has got me so damn hard. I need this pretty mouth,” he whimpers as his palm rests on your scalp. “You’re gonna let me do that aren’t you? Because you’re such a good fucking girl.”

You nod and squirm in anticipation, using the tip of your tongue to lick a path over his slit, savouring the salty taste from the bead of precum. His eyes instantly roll back and you grip his shaft with one hand and lick a path from root to tip.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Just like that,” he hisses between his teeth as his entire body vibrates.

You look up at him, fluttering your lashes over heavy eyes. Because the only thing Hyuck craves more than his own pleasure is the sight of yours. You round your lips, sucking him in slowly. Your head bobs as you work your tongue in sync with your lips, but he’s so big, a fact you’ll never get used to. He hits the back of your throat and you hold him there, swallowing around his tip, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as your throat tightens with a gentle choke.

"Fuck—" He lurches forward, one hand gripping the pillar for support while the other tugs at your hair, pulling you off him just long enough to catch your breath—because he's nothing if not considerate.

Hyuck runs his thumb by the corner of your eye, gathering the moisture that pooled there.

“I’m ruining your makeup,” he muses, lips curling into a smirk. “I had prom pictures planned.”

A blush creeps on your cheeks, “We don’t have to take them.”

“We’re taking them.” There’s no question in his tone. It’s simply a statement. A demand. “Then I’m keeping a copy in my wallet, so next time I’m on tour, fisting my cock, I can think about you. About this."

You nod, breath hitching. "O-okay."

"Okay." His thumb drags over your lip again, teasing until you part for him, wrapping around it. He presses down, tugging lightly. "So agreeable. So obedient. Aren’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

His smirk deepens. "Good. So you'll keep sucking my cock, won't you?"

You don’t even bother with words—too eager to please, too determined to finish what you started. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking once before you take him back into your mouth, sucking deep before pulling off with a lewd pop. Then you do it again, following his cues, giving him exactly what you know he loves. A slow flick of your tongue along the underside of his head, a firm squeeze as you cup his balls, and then you’re taking him to the back of your throat. His entire abdomen tenses. His breathing turns ragged.

"Fuck." His curse is sharp as he pulls back, just enough to look at you. "I’m gonna cum. You gonna let me cum in your mouth, baby?"

You nod eagerly, mascara streaking your cheeks, spit glistening at the corner of your lips. "Please, Hyuck."

His smirk is wicked. "Are you gonna be a good little girlfriend and swallow it all for me?"

You nod—far too enthusiastically.

"Good. Now, take a deep breath, baby—'cause it’s the last one you’re getting for a while."

He runs a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before guiding your head forward. Your lips part instinctively, wrapping around him as he sets the pace, fucking your mouth with a steady rhythm. His palms cover your ears, his hips roll with precision—nothing but pure pleasure as he chases his high. And you let him. You take it, let him use you because he’s done all of this for you tonight. Because he deserves his reward.

Truthfully, watching Hyuck unravel beneath you—knowing you’re the one making him this needy, this desperate to cum—is your own reward. Because seeing him lost in pure bliss is the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving faint crescents as he keeps his pace—steady, deliberate—but always mindful, always making sure you can breathe. He checks in with his eyes, just like you said—considerate.

You moan around his length, hips shifting instinctively, searching for friction. And of course, Hyuck notices. He always notices.

"Are you getting turned on from sucking me off, Y/N?" he taunts, through a tight restraint breath. "So wet, even after I already made you cum." He pulls out of your mouth, gaze dark. "Show me. Show me how wet sucking my cock has made you.”

Heat prickles your skin as you reach under your dress, the one he bought, and gather your arousal on two fingers. You bring them up, letting him see the proof, the evidence of just how much you want him.

“Fuck,” he growls, as deep brown eyes turn black as they lock on your fingers. “So fucking obedient.”

Hyuck leans in, grasping your wrist before guiding your fingers into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the tips, slow and careful, savouring the taste—the proof of how badly he’s wrecked you. Of how much you like him, love him.

He nods toward his cock, covered in your saliva, hard and twitching, ready to cum. "Make me cum, baby. Please."

You hold his eye contact, grip his cock, and bring your mouth back to cover him. He moans, head falling back, and you work his length with your mouth and hand, doing your best to take what you can’t handle. It doesn’t take long until his hips jerk in short, sloppy movements. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, moans soft but pitched, the sound of him unravelling.

“Y/N,” he cries out your name in a whimper of desperation. One hand finds yours, holding it tenderly, while the other braces on the pillar behind you. Then, he cums—hard.

He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, because that’s his favourite part, but the sensation overwhelms him, and he has to shut them. Every muscle in his body tightens as hot, forceful pulses hit the back of your throat.

“So pretty like this,” he pants breathlessly. “Mouth full of my cum.” The pad of his thumb traces down the line of your throat. “You’re gonna swallow it, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, and you don’t hesitate. You swallow all of him, but it’s not enough. You need more—need him inside of you.

“Fuck me, please, Hyuck.”

He shakes his head, a teasing smile tugging at his lips and then he laughs. He uses the hand he’s had entangled with yours to pull you up to your feet, steadying you gently. “I can’t. Not here.”

You pout, disappointed, your body aching for him. “Why not?”

His smile widens as he adjusts your dress, pulling the fabric down to cover you properly, the moment feeling suddenly too sweet considering he was just fucking your throat.

“Because,” he draws out playfully, “I planned a prom, and like all cheesy teenagers, I don’t plan to fuck you here.”

You quirk a brow, crossing your arms across your body. But before you can say anything, Hyuck fumbles with his suit jacket, dropping to the floor to search the pockets. His hands hover for a second before he pulls out a room key, holding it up like some kind of trophy.

You scoff with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Very cliché.”

He grins at you. “I think we have pictures to take.”

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct hard hours #nct one shot #kpop smut

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beloveds-embrace · 2 days ago

Note

Back again (outside of anon lmao) to lay out the brain worm that's been chewing on my grey matter for a few days now: designationless!reader whose secondary gender presents super late in life.

It's not super unheard of for kids to present a little late. Babies don't always have their scents until after a few weeks or months, and it's a rarer chance for kids over two or three to not develop a scent or display certain qualities that are noticeably of a certain designation. But typically, if someone doesn't have a designation before they're five, they don't have one at all.

Which is why there's absolutely no protocol for it when reader wakes up one day and everything just hurts. Her body is sticky with sweat and hot to the point where it feels like the only thing able to quell the heat would be to claw her own skin open.

Everything is so overwhelming, but she hadn't realised that scents were everywhere. On her, on the blankets, in the air. Everything has a scent - she has a scent, since when did she have a scent? Overwhelming her poor nose to the point where the only way to stop the frying in her brain is to crawl into a cold shower and let it wash everything away.

Yesss but also we should really consider the aftermath 😩 spending your whole life getting used to one thing, and it gets ripped apart just like that? Devestating.

You’ve never felt more like a stranger to yourself than you do now.

The world is different. Everything is different. The air feels different- thick, heavier, like the scent of something that doesn’t belong is clinging to your skin, following you everywhere you go. It’s like you’re drowning in it, suffocating you from the inside out.

You can’t stop smelling it. Their scents. It’s there, all of them, wrapped up in the air around you, pressing in on your every move. It’s too much. Too strong. Too intimate. You don’t know how to process it- any of it, when previously there’d been nothing but candles to give you a sliver of an idea about what they smell like.

Your body aches under the weight of it all, and it’s not just from your own overwhelming heat anymore. It’s everything. Their presence, their voices, the way they’re always so near, always so protective, so unwavering. You can’t get away from them. You can’t escape the constant pull, the way your body reacts, how your mind feels like it’s turning to mush.

You don’t understand what’s happening to you. You feel... wrong. Unnatural. More than you’ve ever been.

The others are trying their best, truly. They’re there. But you can’t stop the wave of shame that crashes over you when you think of what you’ve become.

The shame of your late presentation. The shame of not being the kind of omega they expected- normal, clean and in control. Everything you are currently not.

But you’re not like that. You never have been. And now... you’re broken. As if being designationless already wasn’t so strange- you had to present so late you had no doubt you were really, truly, unnatural.

It’s too much.

They’re gentle with you, patient, but you can see it in their eyes- they’re worried. They don’t say anything, but you feel it. You feel how different you are from them now, how out of place you are with their instincts swirling around you. Their scent fills your lungs in a way that makes your heart ache, because you don’t know how to feel about it. It’s comforting but it’s too much.

You don’t know how to feel about them.

When you catch yourself shying away from their touch, feeling overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of their scent, the weight of their attention, your chest tightens with guilt. You can’t look them in the eye. It feels like an invasion.

Your body craves something you can’t give, but you don’t know how to push it away.

Your mind, too, races with irrational thoughts. Maybe you’re too much now. Too unnatural. You resent it. You don’t want it. You never wanted it. You can’t believe there’d been days you’d craved this- this mess you’ve become.

You can’t stop smelling yourself either- the newness of it, the strangeness, the instincts that have begun to claw at the back of your mind. You catch yourself trying to make a nest. You hate the way your skin burns with need whenever any of them are near, the way you feel pulled toward them without any control over it.

You want to run.

But where would you go? Where can you even go?

Johnny’s the first to try and properly talk to you, catching you in your room after you’d shoved yourself there. While command decided on what to do with you, you were exempt from missions and drills.

“Hey,” he says gently, his voice quiet, a little uncertain. “Y’alright, hen?”

You don’t answer. You can’t look at him. You don’t know how to tell him that you’re not, that you feel like you’re suffocating. That you want to bury your face in his neck and breathe until all other sensations are washed away.

“You don’t have to hide from us.” He continues, his hand reaching for your arm, but you jerk back with a sharp intake of breath, and you can hear the sharp edge of concern in his voice when he speaks again. “You’re still you. You’re not some... freak, love. We’re here.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath coming too fast. Please don’t touch me.

But it’s too late.

The flood of scents, the pressure in your chest, it all rises again. The overwhelming wave of emotions, the shift of something inside you that you’ve never felt before, it’s too much to bear.

You don’t know what’s happening to you.

You don’t want them to see you like this. Even if they’d seen you the cursed day you designation presented itself.

John and Simon appear in the hallway, eyes trained on you as if they already know. Simon steps forward first, and you already know what expression he has underneath his mask. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a quiet understanding.

You want to yell at them, tell them to go away, but you don’t have the strength.

It’s too much.

“Love,” John says, firm but gentle, reaching for you in that way he always does. “Talk to us. Let us help.”

Kyle joins as well- you can feel his warmth as he sits down beside Johnny, not yet touching you, but the smell of concern almost chokes you.

You want to. You really do. But the words are caught in your throat, lodged there with the lump of shame, of self-loathing.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely leaving your lips. “I don’t... I don’t know what to do. I’m not... I’m not like this. I wasn’t supposed to... to...”

“Hey,” Kyle says softly, his hands gentle as he slides his fingers under your chin to tilt your face up. His eyes are full of something that makes you ache. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Your chest tightens, and the tears you’ve been trying to hold back finally spill over, leaving a trail of shame behind them.

“I’m a mess,” you sob, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m too late, too... too wrong.”

Simon’s hand wraps around yours, his warmth steadying you, calming the storm inside your chest just a little. They are slowly sureounding you- a living nest cocoon of warmth you are undeserving of. “You’re not wrong, lovie,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Your eyes meet his, searching for some kind of truth. His grip tightens on yours, and the grounding presence of the others behind him steadies you just a little.

“You’re ours,” John continues in a murmur in his stead, his thumb brushing your cheek, wiping away a tear. “And that’s enough. Presenting like this doesn’t suddenly make you any less than who you were, love.”

You can’t answer, can’t process all the words they’re giving you. But their hands are on you, and their presence fills you up in a way that begins to soften the sharp edge of the shame gnawing at you.

Maybe you’re still too much for yourself. But you just… have to trust them.

Omegaverse masterlist

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shy-writer-999 · 2 days ago

Text

How many dreams to say "I love you"? (iii)

Summary: Zoro hasn't been able to stop having dreams about you, his best friend and crewmate. When he goes a few days without one, he thinks he's in the clear. Surely, realizing that he's in love with you is enough to make the dreams stop entirely, right? Right?

Part 3 of 4. ~3.6k words. (read part 1 here!) CW: Equal parts smut and plot. Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Sex! Love-making! Mentions of death, danger, and blood. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 3: Scattered polaroids.

Zoro had three whole nights of solace after he realized he was in love with you—three nights of no dreams, three nights of long and restful sleep.

After the third night, he was under the impression that the dreams had ceased entirely. The realization that he loved you was the cure for his sickness, he told himself. Now, he could pine after you from afar during the day and sleep peacefully, minding his business at night.

He did just that. For those three days, during his waking hours, he tried to calculate how to get closer to you. He put together nonsensical equations in his mind over how, why, and for how long he had been in love—he could, and would, keep doing this all day until he returned to his bed, savoring each smile from you.

Evidently, the conversation he overheard between you and Nami was the catalyst for the chain reaction of psychological warfare he had withstood for over a week—the end result was a euphoric crescendo of emotions, his realization that he was capable of romantic love and that his heart had been screaming for attention for months.

But what was there to do about it?

More importantly, did you feel the same?

Zoro needed to find out. He wanted to get to the bottom of everything—the conversation, who you had been talking about, why you were having a hard time being lonely around them, and how you felt about him.

While the swordsman did the mental math of what that discussion may look like between the two of you, he felt sick. He had fought dangerous foes of every kind and been on the verge of death many times before, but nothing ever gave him nerves like this.

If you had feelings for someone, would you tell them? He wondered about you, the sorts of decisions you made, how you would act and feel. If he got to the bottom of this situation and discovered that you had feelings for someone other than him, would he be able to cope with the jealousy?

Jealousy.

The emotion started to seethe when he thought about someone other than himself being with you. It boiled inside when he watched Sanji fawn over you, touch the small of your back, and whisper compliments in your ear. Every bashful smile and flutter of your eyelashes in Sanji’s direction twisted some dial inside of Zoro. Too many twists would prove troublesome. Explosive, even.

He knew that that this emotion, envy, had been there for ages before he recognized how he felt about you. It didn’t feel good, and he knew it was unhealthy. Various images and memories flashed through his mind as he recalled instances in which he felt this same burning envy frequently coupled with a fierce desire to protect you.

Zoro tried to comfort himself with the knowledge of what sort of person you were—if you had a problem with Sanji, or with any other person, you would have said something, no? He was certain that you wouldn’t hesitate to stand your ground.

But that thought was less of a comfort than he initially thought it would be, because you hadn’t ever reprimanded the blonde for his advances (that Zoro knew of), but you did shoo him away sometimes. Your smile felt restrained and reserved whenever it was sent in Sanji’s direction. It looked different than the smiles you gave Zoro.

Well, there was no point in getting himself worked up over the dynamic in question. Nothing would change, probably, unless he did something about it.

It had been a while since you and Zoro last spent time together, one on one. And he thought you had been a bit quieter than usual, recently, so… might as well catch up. Maybe spending some time with you would soothe his heart—it felt like it was aching any time you weren’t around, and when you were around it felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know how to cope other than find ways and excuses to spend time with you.

His solution was… lunch. Practical, at the very least, if not the most effective.

On the morning after his third night of restful sleep, Zoro asked you if you’d like to have lunch with him under one of the trees on the deck of the Sunny. This was nothing too out of the ordinary. He grabbed food, some drinks and some napkins and brought them out to you.

When Zoro handed you your plate, you smiled up at him from where you sat and he felt like he would pass out. He had absolutely no clue how to handle this recently unlocked feeling—the feeling of love—and he was trying to act as normal as possible. He was, all things considered, succeeding.

He didn’t have much trouble acting ‘normal,’ per say. He was simply hyperaware of how beautiful you were, how fast his heartbeat was, and how blisteringly intense your eye contact was. He had noticed inklings of this before, but he was reminded, strongly. Every moment that your eyes met his, his heart fluttered. He was trying not to blush. It felt very out of character.

“How have you been recently?” Zoro tried to start the conversation casually.

“I’m fine,” you responded with a smile, like usual. “The same as ever. What about you?”

Zoro wondered if that was worth pressing you on, since you seemed a bit sad, or distant, or something along those lines. He decided it was worth it. Ignoring your question to him, he followed up.

“You sure you’re fine? You’ve been a bit quiet recently.”

You tried to brush it off. You had been quieter recently, and for good reason. You thought he didn’t know the reason, but he did. At least, he knew the bare bones of it. Something along the lines of feeling lonely.

“Ah, yeah. I guess I have been a bit down recently.” You responded, trying to hold your smile and pretend like your heart wasn’t crying inside. He studied your face closely, and you could tell.

“Why’s that?”

You had a brief internal battle over whether or not you would be candid with him, but you didn’t have it in you that day and the scenery wasn’t anywhere near private enough. You lied. “No reason, really. I’m not quite sure why.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.” Zoro smiled sweeter than you had ever seen and then dropped the subject. His smile was uncharacteristically sweet. Heart-stoppingly sweet. Painfully sweet. It was like a dagger.

You told him thanks and the conversation moved on. As a whole, lunch was enjoyable. Afterwards, you both felt significantly more at ease. To spend time together always brought your respective spirits up. It was a great dynamic—no wonder Zoro was in love with you.

Zoro told himself that he should just keep checking on you and go even more out of his way to spend time with you. He’d double down. Maybe it was lunch today, and then tomorrow it could be dinner. And after that, he’d ask you to watch the sunset with him in the crow’s nest. Or would he whisk you away and confess his feelings in his cabin? He was scrambled in the head, confused by that classic paradox of choice, where there are so many options that you’re incapable of choosing one. Was it even the right call to tell you how he felt? Would it screw everything up?

“Oh, Zoro?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks down the hallway after lunch. “Want to have some drinks tomorrow night? It’s been a minute since we caught up. You stood me up last time, remember?”

You were joking, but it was true. Last time Zoro asked you to have some drinks with him after a hard training session he completely forgot and fell asleep. You both laughed about it afterwards, and you used it to poke fun at him sometimes.

He agreed. "Yeah, drinks tomorrow night. I promise."

That was one problem solved.

DREAM 10: Un-solved

That night Zoro dreamed about you. It broke up that momentary peace he had of three nights with no dreams—it seems the internal turmoil of the day was enough to evoke a vivid and striking dream, unlike any others he had before.

Zoro found himself in a dimly lit bedroom lying on a big bed. The sheets and blankets were smooth and plushy. He could hear someone breathing next to him and he knew that you were there.

Turning his head, he saw that you were lying on your side facing away from him, completely nude, hair sitting perfectly on a silk pillowcase. The sheets were pulled down, so he could see your whole silhouette. In the dream, Zoro could feel himself compelled by something, reaching out a hand to pull you closer to him so your bodies were flush.

He smelled your hair, felt how soft your skin was, and ran a rough hand up and down the side of your body, trying to memorize every inch. He ran a palm over your hips and down your thighs, felt your back, shoulders, and waist; he was drinking up every second that his hands wandered over your skin, like your body was an oasis and he was dying of thirst.

You let out an indistinct noise. He couldn’t hear it well enough. It sounded like a sigh. As his hands moved, you stirred, turning your shoulder into his, giving him more access.

The faint sound trickled out of your mouth again, this time audible. Your voice sounded sleepy, sweet and faint. “Zoro.” He could feel his heart trip when his name fell from your lips.

Your hand groped back to grip his thigh and you whispered his name again. “Zoro. More.”

He snuck his hand from your hip to your front, starting to knead and cup your breasts. His fingers elicited another hushed entreaty from your lips. “Zoro. More.”

Suddenly aware of his hard-on pressing on you, his hand lingered on your chest and he began to kiss you. He started with you shoulder blade, marking a trail of kisses up to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your hair and skin. His kisses were soft and loving, coaxing more pleasant sighs from you.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, to draw out those sounds and muffled noises that he was starting to become acquainted with (at least, in his dreams).

Zoro lavished your skin with affection and care for a few moments, and you said his name again. Every time you said his name, it felt like every nerve in his body buzzed.

“Zoro. I need you.”

The dream fogged up and transformed. He was leaning over you from between your legs, missionary style. You were looking up at him, eyes pleading, hair ruffled just right.

Zoro’s erection was positioned right at your entrance, precum beading and pooling around his red, angry tip. The scene was vivid—his mind replicated every facet of what this would look and feel like in real life, down to each atom of detail. It was absurd.

He gawked at you, eyes jumping between your needy face and pouting lips and your glistening core. One of his hands was stroking his shaft leisurely, and the other gripped your waist.

“Please, Zoro.”

As your begging reached his ears, he slowly pressed into you, letting out a hiss of air through his teeth when he bottomed out because it felt so good. You gasped and the sound felt heavenly in his ears.

“Fuuuccckk, Zoro.”

He leaned in to kiss you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your lips were still locked when he started slowly rocking his hips into yours, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly.

You felt amazing, so warm and wet around him, squeezing him perfectly. He sped up, finding the perfect pace. As his hips rolled into yours, you began to moan his name, mewling it into his mouth as he explored yours with his tongue.

Zoro reached a hand and pushed one of your thighs down, allowing for the deepest angle possible. He wanted to hit your g-spot just right; he wanted to make you feel good, wanted to see your eyes roll back in your head and hear his name as many times as possible.

The dreamscape transformed again, just slightly. He was in the same position, but your faces were centimeters away now. You were holding his cheeks in your hands, making eye contact as he thrusted into you, deep and slow.

“Zoro,” you panted. “Feels good, Zoro. You feel so fucking good.”

He could feel your legs wrap around him, could feel you grinding down on his cock, trying to fuck yourself with it deeper.

A moment later, you were holding hands, fingers entwined. You moaned his name and only his name. He could feel himself about to let go. Your eyes were entrancing.

“Zoro,” you keened, arching your back up and squeezing his hands tightly. “Tell me you love me, Zoro.”

His heart stopped again and picked up at a rapid pace; his hips did the same, moving haphazardly, stuttering and shaking. He was seconds away from cumming in you, pleasure building into one massive cliff that he was about to free fall from.

“I—love—you,” he thrusted between each labored breath and grunt. The words tumbled out of his mouth and on the last one he orgasmed. He reeled with ecstasy, convulsing in pleasure as his cum painted the inside of you a hot, milky white.

Zoro collapsed on your chest panting. One of your hands traced circles on his back and the other petted his head, which rested in the crook of your neck. You cooed “good job baby” in his ear and kissed his shoulder.

He woke up, and even though he wasn’t shaking or sweating this time, he felt extremely unwell. It took him a moment to realize that he came all over the inside of his underwear while he was asleep. While his return to consciousness was gentler this time in comparison to his other dreams, he was still disturbed. It was a scarily realistic and wildly intimate dream.

He tried to get his thoughts in order. There was no point in feeling any shame here, he told himself, because you didn’t dream about that on purpose. But really, what the fuck was going on? A wet dream? How long had it been since he had one of these?

The frustration he felt upon waking was agonizing. Three whole days and nights of a clear head. He thought that since he realized he loved you, the dreams had stopped—the realization of his feelings had been the cure to his lovesickness, after all.

Evidently, he was wrong. One intense dream snapped Zoro back into the insanity he had lived in for a week. He felt like he was going to go crazy.

Wasn’t the realization that he loved you enough to make the dreams stop? If that wasn’t enough, then what would be?

Did he have to do something about it?

Fuck.

He really had to do something about it. Perhaps he’d do something about it when he had drinks with you.

But those promised drinks never came.

The next day, the Strawhat crew ran into a hostile pirate group. The skirmish lasted a handful of hours. Lucky for the crew, there were no truly formidable opponents, but it still ended up being a pain in the ass. The crew got separated, and Zoro got lost and left behind—an experience he was well familiar with.

Finally making his way back to where the ship was docked, after hours of wandering around aimlessly on the island and defeating some random mid-tier power user, Zoro returned to the ship. He was met with a startling sight.

The Sunny was ransacked. On first impression, the crew was nowhere to be found. Your absence was starting to agitate him more than usual when he realized the ship was most likely empty. His latent realization of his love was certainly contributing to that.

As the swordsman explored the ship and went room to room, his distress mounted.

There were blood splatters on the walls of some of the hallways—a pattern that looked like someone, gravely injured, was dragging themselves around the ship. In addition, it looked like every inch of the ship had been turned inside out. The kitchen was a mess, pots and pans everywhere, and even the chairs and table were flipped over at odd angles.

In a rising panic, he dragged himself to your room. He was sure it wasn’t you who was injured and struggling, but… what if it was? Might as well check.

As he suspected, your cabin was plundered and empty, too. His heartbeat was through the roof, his vision started to go red in agitation.

Where were you?

In your room, the pirates rifled to their hearts’ content, searching for money, treasure, whatever they could get their greedy hands on.

Your mattress had been ripped off the bed. The drawers on your desk were pulled out and emptied, the sparse contents littered around the floor. Your closet was ravaged, too. Clothes were in piles and tatters on the floor. Your lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered.

Geez, what the fuck were they doing in here? Zoro wondered. He took in the view for a brief second, noting that you weren’t here, and that he needed to move on. If the crew was in a tight spot right now he ought to go help them out instead of dawdling around on the ship in a frenzy searching for you.

Maybe you were with Luffy or the shit cook—maybe you had your snail, maybe he could call you and check if you were okay.

He had only felt this level of panic a couple times in his life so far. A thought cut through his worry—what if I lose her? What if I lose her before I’ve said anything?

He felt like he was sinking. His vision started to tunnel, his hand jumped to rest on one of his swords, getting ready to cut someone down at a moment’s notice. As he turned to leave your room, a lightning bolt of clarity struck him. Scattered across the floor carelessly was a messy tornado of polaroid photos.

Your camera was crushed to bits in a corner, but the photos, which you’d been taking for ages at this point, had been torn from their little box in your closet and thrown everywhere.

Most of the photos, he realized, were of him. His heart panged. He had never seen this many photos of himself in one spot. His memories with the crew slipped through his fingers every day as they happened, but when recorded and hoarded like this he noticed how happy he looked in the photos. Was it because you were taking them?

When did that light start coming into his eyes?

His stomach flipped. You weren’t here. Your room was destroyed. You were in danger.

In a panic, Zoro pocketed a handful of them and darted out of the room. He hurriedly checked the rest of the ship—completely empty, ransacked and pillaged. Luckily, the pirates didn’t find Nami’s stash. But aside from that, almost no corner of the ship was left untouched.

His heart started to feel like it was seizing—if he didn’t find you fast, he was going to snap.

Would the photos you took of him be the only relic of your shared moments of happiness?

He ran onto the deck, out of breath and sweating, and looked at the shore. Time froze.

A wave of relief crashed over Zoro as he took in the sight—the crew was now strewn around the beach. Some were laying on their backs in exhaustion from the battle, others were huddled up, talking, and still, some were injured, getting briefly triaged by Chopper. Nothing looked too serious. His eyes darted around, searching for you.

You were standing next to Luffy, holding your side and wincing. A pool of blood saturated your shirt, radiating outwards from where you pressed your palm to stop the flow of blood.

You were alive. Injured, yes, but alive. He released the tension in his body and a preliminary feeling of relief coursed through him.

It seems like Zoro had forgotten that life on the seas wasn’t just sunshine, lunches on deck, pining, and exploration. Death and danger were key elements of the whole experience.

Not only had he been lacking on his training, but he was lacking on being an attentive and good friend to you, let alone a crew mate that could protect you. In the lapse and haze he had been in for the past couple weeks, he had let his guard down somehow.

Ever hard on himself, Zoro had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. He needed to sort shit out with you, fast. He didn’t want to have any regrets. He couldn’t lose someone that he loved again.

Taking deep breaths and internally cursing himself out, Zoro made his way down the gangplank and onto the beach. He decided that when the ship was cleaned up, and everyone was bandaged and fed, he would confess.

This love was festering in him. It had festered for far too long before forcing him to acknowledge it. He couldn’t cope anymore. The next chance he got, he would tell you how he felt, no matter what.

< previous part | masterlist | next part >

taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996 @chibinasu @theilluminatidragonqueen @becca-oak @my-name-is-heartache @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @adamwarlockislife-blog

a/n: happy valentine's day, everyone! thanks for your patience waiting for this one :) the next part won't take as long ❤️❤️

#zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n

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this-is-exorsexism · 1 day ago

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i'm seeing a rise right now of binary trans people saying how nonbinary oppression is very different from trans oppression. spoiler: they don't mean the fact that we experience exorsexism and they don't.

every time in the last few days i've seen this the phrasing has already been deeply exorsexist. "nonbinary vs trans", as if most nonbinary people aren't trans themselves. it's also always "nonbinary = not medically transitioning" and "not medically transitioning = less oppressed", which is not how any of this works. they also seem to think that all medical transition is visible from the outside. it's not. i want a hysterectomy one day. it's medical transition. you can't see it from the outside. firstly, why are you assuming nonbinary people who medically transition don't exist? are you just acting like they're trans men and women? is your distinction between "trans" and "nonbinary" that trans people medically transition while nonbinary people don't? fuck your truscum ass. the amount of scrutiny, discomfort, harassment, violence you face also isn't fully related to whether you medically transition or not. i've been asked invasive questions about my genitals ever since i hit puberty. even fellow transgender people have weird ways of trying to figure out what my "real gender" is, i.e. what my genitals are but you all aren't ready for that conversation. i've been harassed in public bathrooms. i've faced dismissal of my actual problem from doctors due to my gender. people call me he and she in mostly equal amounts. none of this lines up with their narrative of the non-medically transitioning nonbinary person who is always perceived as one binary gender (and that gender is usually female because everyone thinks we're women lite). what i don't (currently) have to deal with is getting a gender dysphoria diagnosis, fight for gender-affirming medical care, worry about my prescription being taken away. this isn't exclusive to nonbinary people though. there are binary trans people who don't medically transition, too, but i guess according to this idea soaked in transmedicalism, these people don't exist, or you're just misgendering them as nonbinary.

a lot of binary transgender people treat us the way cisgender people treat them. many seem to feel threatened that us weirdos who won't choose a side have quite a lot in common with them, actually.

when nonbinary people talk about exorsexist oppression, we're either straight up told to shut up or not listened to at all. we're told we're being divisive by talking about our own experiences (and we have to, because again, research doesn't really include us), when the people doing the dividing are binary trans people going "we have nothing in common with those people", treating us like we cannot be trans etc. it's a tale as old as time: the more privileged people within a group separating themselves from the less "respectable"/more marginalised people within the group and then accusing them of being divisive.

i'm sick and tired of binary transgender people theorising about what it's like being nonbinary. we're not hypotheticals. we're not thought experiments. we're real human beings you can listen to.

yes, our experiences are a bit different. but not because nonbinary people are less oppressed. because nonbinary people experience an extra layer of oppression that binary trans people don't: exorsexism.

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joudama · 2 days ago

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It feels hollow and boring because they de facto gave Taash’s being non-binary as much weight as Lucanis liking coffee. As in, each character has exactly two things they talk about. The only two things Taash will talk about on their own are dragons and their gender. Like Lucanis only talks about liking coffee and things related to Spite. They didn’t give any of the characters any depth, so they had to make Taash’s gender part of their personality instead of just part of who they are, and those are two very different things. That’s why it feels so cynical and like a step back. Characters, including side characters and NPCs, can only talk about things that directly relate to their plot points. That’s why nothing is done or mentioned to Rook about Tarquin and Maevaris being trans - their conversations happen off screen in service of Taash’s plot line, so that can one of the two topics Taash talks about in the conversations to other companions that Rook can overhear but not join. Characters like Mae and Tarquin don’t have room in the game they gave us to be anything other than vehicles for exposition, so how can anything be explored, or simply just be? It’s not satisfying because there’s nothing there to be enough to satisfy. The game tells instead of showing, so there’s nothing to interact with, just people around you talking about the interesting conversations they had when you weren’t there, and all you hear is how what they said affected Taash, not any of what those people had to say themselves on the topic or their own feelings. They don’t get to have feelings. That’s why there’s no indication of Dorian being gay, because it doesn’t serve the plot and there’s no other interaction with Dorian outside of what the plot needs him to say. Which makes sense, because Rook isn’t close enough to him to know anything about his life, and the game refuses to go into any relationship the Inquisitor had that’s not with Solas, so even if your Inquisitor romanced him, that doesn’t serve The Plot so you don’t get to see any of it when he and Dorian are together again in the end. Or talk about it when you meet up with the Inquisitor because, again, there are no characters, only exposition dumps and plot vehicles.

I am begging people not to accept this step back as “progress” or “good representation.” It’s not. Demand better than what this game gave you.

It’s crazy how Veilguard was released in 2024 and yet feels less proudly and effortlessly queer than previous entries. Just this sense of pandering and empty diversity that you’re never able to interact with in any meaningful way. Maevaris is trans.. and nothing is done with that. Tarquin is trans… nothing done with that. All the companions are playersexual, and yet there’s less overt shameless sexiness than Dragon Age Origins. We’re given the opportunitiy to explore non binaryness, and it’s through the most annoying character in the entire DA series to date. Dorian is gay, and you wouldn’t know that at all unless you played the previous game. Oh your Rook can be trans/non binary in this game! And you can’t give yourself big gender-affirming tits or a juicy ass, all you can do is make your crotch bulge big and get top surgery scars. Also the CC hairstyles are so homophobically hideous.

A lot of lip service for queerness, hardly any true real deep interaction and celebration and flaunting of that queerness. The way it’s implemented reminds me of how Blizzard announces that an Overwatch character is a lesbian in order to distract audiences from the fact that a new allegation of workplace sexual harassment has come out against their top rank employees. It tastes cynical, even though the people who wrote Veilguard are queer themselves, it feels lazy and boring and oh so unsatisfying. Them just existing and saying “I’m queer!” is not enough and should never be enough. Yeah you’re queer, what else? What fucking else.

#datv critical #veilguard critical #bioware what happened to you?#The writing is just so bad #we didn’t get characters we got tropes #the game has all the subtlety of a brick to the face #so there’s no room for nuance

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mscherub · 4 hours ago

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Witchy Ways 🕸️

The long awaited part 3?

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect, Y/N,

Henchhuman(by Grim)

Warnings!:

Swearing

Half proof read

Part 1 (intro): "Alchemy Exams are...Easy?", Part 2: "Not the Intended Outcome", Part 3: “Impending Warnings.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 3: Impending Warnings

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After having a reasonable and very justifiable crash out session before getting into bed, caused by all that happened within one days time, all because you were just trying to be nice to your friends and help them out and now it’s started up this whole ordeal you don’t even know if you can reverse because the loquacious guys won’t leave you the hell alone and it’s really just eating away at you because they won’t stop asking for the stupid little fucking jar that’s filled with answers to all their problems and hopes and dreams apparently— ok, ok, calm down. You’re fine. Everything is fine. TOTALLY FINE, YESSSS!! As if you weren’t already stressed enough!

You sigh and you roll over on your side, dreading the day ahead as you look at the clock.

2:27 AM

Yesterday was…Monday, and you had to do this for four more days, well, most likely more if the idea stayed around long enough? Interacting with people all because they heard the little birdies(first years) chirp about how they passed the exams and the others didn’t because of the little object. If you could do a freezer spell to stop all this chit chat about you and what you did, you would, it’s sadly, and annoyingly, getting to that point. The game plan is to just ignore it until the thought of it around the school desiccates into just a little something that, hopefully, will be considered a coincidence by most. After all, if the others knew about what you did, about this otherworldly concept of magic, how the hell would they begin to perceive you then?

You didn’t exactly want to out yourself, you were used to keeping it a secret, hidden away from others in fear of, say, ridiculing from some religious groups, hence why not everyone freely admits they do whitchcraft back home. Plus, you were already viewed as awkward and weird anyways for your title of “Magicless Prefect,” and of course, being the “non-magic” user, at least to their standards, in a school specifically for mages is just a completely ironic situation on its own. Anyways, you didn’t need a new label… “Half Magic Prefect that Practices in Weird Magic and is Still not at our Level, Thereofre Still Weird and Not truly a Magic User so is Still Magicless.” You could see it happening…or it could take an opposite turn and they can end up exalting your alien abilities and deem you more powerful, which would be interesting to see happen, but you don’t want to think about that or deal with it. It just sounds like more stress, and you definitely don’t want that. Only fate can really tell at this point.

One thing you do know is that your intentions here are awkwardly much stronger and quicker to act. It’s different, and in all honestly, just slightly concerning. More than just slightly, actually. What, your magic acting effectively and efficiently being concerning? Yes. Yes, 100 times, and that’s for some obvious reasons. What if you mess up a spell and then it happens to backfire on you and now you’re stuck with negative effects of whatever you were trying to do! Now you had to be cautious, extremely cautious, like walking on eggshells around your own practice type of cautious, which keep in mind, you shouldn’t be doing! it’s frightening to think about, and just how much would you have to up your game here?

Grim lays on his back, his belly up as he continues to snooze away, not greatly affected by the increase of attention and popularity, in fact he was eating it up! In his mind people were seeing you and him as powerful now, and damn does that feed his ego. How lucky he is to just…worry about nothing. And that’s exactly what he’s doing, and thankfully so. At least he’s not trying to look too much into what you’re doing.

You roll on to your back again and stare up at the ceiling, your arms crossed as you chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. Bringing back the subject of good luck, you definitely needed some. What was the symbol for that? Horseshoes…

Huh

With the question answered and no other subject for your brain to overthink on at the moment, your mind can finally shut off for the night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Morning rolls around sooner than what you had wanted, the sun not even up to greet you as you sit up, rubbing your eyes and rolling your shoulders to alleviate the stiffness you gained over the night of tossing and turning.

You do your usual routine again, having to pry Grim off of the sheets this time, him mumbling obscenities as he’s still in a half dazed and asleep state. Great, now there’s claw marks on your sheets, thanks, Grim!

Breakfast is an easy feat and soon enough you’re out the door, walking along the path again up to the school.

“Henchhuman…” Grim looks over at you, his eyes narrowed in on you as you two walk up.

“Huh?” You spare him a quick glance before your eyes go back to looking at the patterns of the tiles along the path.

“Im glad you didn’t sell off whatever you did to Azul, now we can keep that for ourselves.” He sneers happily at the air, imagining it was Azul their himself.

“I’m glad you think that…” you nod.

“Since I’m like…family, you should let me in on the secret on whatever are in those little jar thingys.” He adds on, putting emphasis on the family part to sway your favor.

You didn’t exactly see why you shouldn’t give it to him, it wasn’t that big of a deal, again, however, the thought and fear of people finding out about what you do still gnawed away at the back of your mind. Right, it’s not that big of deal, who cares if they find out! No…actually, you don’t want them to. What if they try and abuse these powers out of you. It’s better just to ignore it at this point and maybe double down on how often you practice…that seems the better option. Too many negative things can come out of the positive thing you posses. It’s not worth the risk!

“Henchhuman!” Grim snaps as he continues to eye you.

“Sorry, got lost in thought. I guess I could, I’ll write it down when we get to class and you can try and make one yourself…don’t use all of our money to buy ingredients, Grim.”

“You spoil fun…” he mutters as he pouts and looks up ahead, his ears flattening and his tail lazily swishing behind him.

“I’m just trying to be the reasonable one, here. If your intention is to create and sell them, then we might as well have handed over the whole thing to Azul. And, making them to sell isn’t the purpose, at that point your just being greedy”

“I—“

“Exactly, Grim. Now, we should have what you need, anyways. Now don’t talk about it anymore, it’s starting to get too repetitive.” You sigh and adjust the books in your arms.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So, the thought didn’t leave you the rest of the day, the thought of spells gone wrong and their heightened effects, thoughts of what could happen to you if this little secret you were withholding got out. Yea…you’re not in a great mindset, and the idea of anything wrong or going wrong won’t ease up.

You drop Grim off at Heartslabyul, leaving him with Ace and telling him some half-assed reason about needing to go do this and then go do that and some other things and that Grim just couldn’t come, which had some truth behind it, but most of it was a conjured up lie on the spot to get rid of him for a bit.

You walk around campus, deep in thought as your shoes click against the ground.

Protection spells needed to be doubled, but wait! Didn’t you just say you’d stop practicing as much so people wouldn’t suspect anything and to draw less of a gaze from everyone. Shit, you did, ok…well you can’t just not practice, cause what if negative energy fills up again and really fucks things over? Ok, you have to practice then, protection spells, warding items, you needed it— but you can’t draw attention! This is proving to be more difficult than you had ever even intended. Protection, luck, you just needed it all at this moment.

You shouldn’t be scared anyways, but you didn’t quite know social standards here besides just inside of NRC. Luckily the guys here liked you to a certain extent so you were accepted in enough ways. Say they find out and it does happen to be socially acceptable here, then you have nothing to worry about. But what if your version of magic isn’t socially acceptable, and it’s maybe even against the law? What if they like…execute you or something for it? Great, get your mind off of the Salem Witch Trial thought here. That wouldn’t happen. Magic, in any type of way, shouldn’t be illegal since they’re quite literally practicing their own versions freely at a damn school.

But what if— drop the idea now, it’s not worth it to overthink it. It’s just not! You’ll be fine, everyone will be fine…you just needed some luck here, and look where you ended up.

The stables on campus.

You walk over to one of the fenced off areas, some horses grazing within the grassy fields, their soft neighs and trills moving across the small plain. One comes over to the edge and looks at you, tilting its head curiously as you gaze right back. You walk over to the edge of the fence and you lean against it.

“You animals have it easy sometimes…I wonder what you guys even think of.” You sigh as you put your hand out to the horse. Its coat was in perfect condition and its tail flicked behind it with interest.

It took a big sniff of your hand before it let out a small grunt and pushed its muzzle against your hand, giving you the go ahead to pet away. You do just that and sigh again.

“And you don’t have to pay any taxes…I think that’s a win on its own—“

“HUAMN!” Someone screeches from behind you, causing the horse to get spooked and bolt away. You turn around to the culprit, already suspecting who it was since only one person you were close with refereed to you with that choice of name.

“Do not touch those animals! That one especially, its attitude is not one of kindness, that’s why he is separated into the outer pens.” Sebek states sternly.

“It didn’t seem mean—“

“It is indeed!” His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“I think you only say that, Sebek, is because the horses don’t like you that much.” Silver also approaches you two, a small smile on his face which is directed to you only. Sebek crosses his arms and lets out an annoyed puff of air before he narrows back in on you.

“Why are you here? Last time I recalled you’re not apart of this club. You should go before Riddle—“

“He wouldn’t kick me out.”

“You say that with too much confidence, Human…”

“Me and him are chill.” You nod.

“You…’chill?’ Odd words to use. Be formal when addressing someone in a higher class than you.” He gripes.

“We’re on good terms…” you correct yourself

“What are you here for, Prefect?” Silver chimes in, taking over the situation.

“I…I have an odd request, I suppose. I mean, it may seem odd.” You shrug.

“Nothing is too odd.” Silver gently reassures, moving his hair out of his face, nodding as to encourage you to speak.

“I need a horseshoe.”

…

“Come again?” He questions.

“A horseshoe.” You say again, prolonging the vowels and looking at him like he was the one to say something wrong.

“Why?”

“Um…You know…erm…aesthetic reasons.”

“Human, you are quite weird.” Sebek interjects, the words sounding judging enough—

“But I suppose we shall not pry into your decorative matters…we may have some old ones.” He sighs

“Oh! No, that’s perfect, actually! Thanks Sebby!” You beam overjoyed…maybe a little too much. He grimaces at the nickname and looks about ready to correct you yet again, but he refrains just this once. You got…lucky.

They go quiet at your excitement for the object and they look back at each other, conveying some sort of silent message between the two before Sebek nods and motions for you to follow him over to the barn.

The barn is well kept but it does have that natural barn smell of wood and of the animal inhabitants. Dried hay is scattered around on the ground and it crunches beneath both of your feet as you walk to, presumably, the tack room of the stable, which holds all of the materials they could need for proper animal care.

“We tend to change out our horses horseshoes every five or six weeks. We just changed some out this past week so we should have a few extra…though I can’t guarantee they’d be in the condition you’re hoping for.”

“That’s fine…it doesn’t matter to me. I just want one, no matter the, uh…appearance. The older the look the better, you know? Adds character?” You awkwardly carry on the conversation.

“I…see. Anyhow, here,” Sebek peers into a rack on the wall and pulls out the item you’ve been looking for. “This one should do…if it meets your standards.”

It’s not exactly pretty, but you are getting it for free, so there’s no real reason to complain. “It’s perfect. Thank you, again…really. Helps me out some”

He crosses his arms and nods. “Off now, Human.”

“Yea, yea, later Sebek. Thanks.” You give a small wave before you walk out and back along the path.

You scored what you wanted to get, so it worked out. All you had to do was red it up a bit, maybe clean it then polish it if you could find any stuff to do that, then it’ll look basically brand new. Voilà!And the most important thing, it should bring some luck in when you hang it above your door with the ends facing up. It’s a small detail, barely noticeable, and could only be deciphered if you really focused your eyes above the door.

Now, just time to get Grim—

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, you slip it out and see Aces profile picture and his caller ID. With a small click of the green button you put the phone up to your ear.

“PREFECT!”

You wince and pull the phone away from your ear for a second to allow him to throw his little temper tantrum before you push it back against you

“Dude…”

“Prefect! Come get Grim, he’s threatening to eat all the tarts that Trey’s making…say maybe I pissed Grim off and that’s why he’s doing that, BUT LISTEN, come get him! He’s gonna push the blame on me! Don’t you like me? Don’t let me suffer….” You could basically hear him pouting on the other side of the phone.

“I’m on my way…tell him he won’t get tuna if he does anything…”

“Awweee, you do care—“

“I only care enough for Grim’s sake.” You cut him off.

“You’re rude, really rude…anyways, Riddle wants to know if you wanna pop by for the unbirthday party.”

You consider and weigh the options in your head. For one, free food to satiate you and most importantly, Grim, and two, a much needed distraction, so the idea sounded plausible.

“I don’t see why not, I shouldn’t have much to do…”

“Niceeee, you help make Riddle a little less irritable so yea, saving me and Deuce here. K, later, and come get Grim.”

With that, he hangs up the phone.

Ok, then…it was a bit redundant to be told to get Grim then basically come back just a few minutes later, but whatever.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hahaaaa! Tarts, tarts, tarts!” Grim chirps almost too enthusiastically. He dashes over to the table and pulls the plate up from his assigned seat, but he’s quickly stopped by Deuce who reminds him of tea party etiquette, which he manages to forget with each unbirthday party you two attend. He’s very disappointed to find out that there’s quite literally an order to everything. He’ll get over it.

You go take your seat next to Riddle, quietly watching as he goes about checking everything over one last time before he nod and welcomes everyone. He takes the tea pot and pours you a cup of tea first, then Grim’s, and then the rest around the table. The tea steamed and you added in whatever you wanted to your cup and stirred quietly, noticing it was loose leaf tea.

The unbirthday party began, and of course it wasn’t a true experience without the scolding of some other students who decided not to follow the rules, but it was all in good fun. You slowly drank your tea down, sipping quietly and enjoying the arrangements of food all meticulously prepared by Trey, and Grim did exactly the same with his usual fervor.

Your tea cup became empty, and you kindly refused another cup. Barely any eyes were on you so maybe you could pull off a tea reading, but was it really worth the risk?

It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to do one, it’d be useful and provide some insight on some things…fuck it, you’ll do it anyways. Let’s just hope it’s not against a rule or something…

Everyone chats away and you pick up your cup, swirling the small bit of tea and the leaves around before you place it back down and grab the saucer, placing it over the cup. What do you really want to know? Well, obviously what’s to happen in the near future…especially with the discovery of your high tented abilities…good or bad things, that mainly what you wanted, no, needed to know.

By now Riddle was side eyeing you and watching your every move, silently judging. This wasn’t proper…

“Prefect.”

Shit.

“Riddle…” you smile bashfully, pausing in your movements.

“What are you doing?”

“Erm…something?” This is just amazing. You should have stuck with what you set earlier, not drawing attention. You can maybe twist the situation around, no? No, you can.

“I’m just doing something everyone does back in my world after drinking their tea, yeah…called tea reading! It’s really cool…if you’d want to try. You know, I’ve just been missing home and stuff so I decided I’d try to do it a little…but I get it if I can’t, I understand completely.” And perfect, guilt tripping at its finest there….

“No…that’s fine. It sounds peculiar, but I don’t have any disagreements to it, so long as you don’t damage the ceramics…” he sighs.

Ok! This is good…

“Ok…so, first you have to make sure you have a little bit of liquid in your cup, then you swirl it around a bit, place the saucer overtop the cup and then flip your cup over,” Riddle follows along simply out of curiosity, watching your every move to make sure he doesn’t mess up anything. “After that spin the cup clockwise three times…I mean, or counter clockwise, it doesn’t particularly matter, I do clockwise, then make sure the handle faces you again…”

You pivot the cup one last time to the handle is angled towards you, then you give three taps on the top of the cup.

“Tap three times, then lift the cup up. What do you see in yours?”

He peers into the cup and inspects it.

“I see…tea leaves. I don’t understand, what’s the purpose of this.” He huffs.

“You have to…ok, think of it this way, you have to see what images are made with the tea leaves, for instance, mine—“

You look into your cup and see various little symbols, the few standing out the most being a wheel, knots, a cat, and an umbrella.

The wheel for inevitable change and progress, the knot for stress and anxiety…fucking fantastic, the cat for gossip, great because that’s exactly what you need, and, the more concerning one of the symbols, an umbrella, signifying difficulty. It’s a good thing you got the damn horseshoe earlier…with this info, your future could be something else you aren’t prepared for based on this reading.

“Well?” Riddles voice pulls you from your thoughts and you give him a small nod.

“Sorry…yea, so, you see this?” You move your cup and saucer in his direction. “The symbols closest to the handle should signify the things sooner to happen—“

“Most of your…’symbols,’ are near the handle.” He notes.

“Yea, this one here kinda looks like a cat, and this one a wheel…this one here looks like a knot and then that one looks like an umbrella.”

“I can vaguely see it. Do they all mean something?” He questions as he gazes even more at the leaves.

“Yea. They all have their own, but let’s look at yours…what shapes can you make out?”

He tilts his cup towards you and points at the symbols, you can make out some to look like stars and a few squares.

“Don’t overthink it…what do you see?”

“Those look like squares, what’s the meaning? Assuming you know…” he hums, interested in the whole thing now.

“They can mean comfort and peace…have you been feeling that more often?”

“In a way, I suppose…it has been a little less stressful around here for once. I see…this is quite interesting, Prefect, I like the idea…how does this work?”

“That’s a question for another time—“

“It has to work a certain way, correct?” He questions again. “It almost seems like something to be done with magic…”

“Yea, no…it’s just, uh, you know, I guess it’s just like, the tea leaves…resonate?” Good one…

“I…guess.” He nods along. “It’s still quite interesting. Thank you for showing me a ritual from your world.” He smiles softly.

“Of course…”

The Unbirthday party carries on, celebrating, then like all things, eventually coming to an end. You and Grim leave, Trey kindly giving you leftovers which will and can not be rationed around Grim, but you take them anyways.

That tea reading is gonna bug you even more…so much for the unbirthday party being a distraction like you had hoped…

Hey…how yall doing…I JUST WANNA APOLOGIZE FOR HOW RUSHED THIS WAS, but I did it! Also, I’m doing a tag list on this now so if u want me to tag u on the next part just comment <3

THANKS FOR READING AND I LOVE U GUYS TYYYY KISSES TO ALL OF U 💋😘

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

Tag List <3:

@w0nd3rhoy

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sleepymccoy · 2 days ago

Text

Letters that cast a long shadow

McCoy sits down on an insignificant evening and reads a staggering letter from his old friend and current Captain, Jim Kirk. He's asking for some kind of relationship. But the letter isn't clear on what Jim's doing about his current and very serious boyfriend Spock. And McCoy's got a crush on both of them, so it's looking like it won't work out. Then Spock knocks on the door. mcspirk, 4,563 words for the @leonardmccoyevents Valentine's event Love Letters

Bones,

This one isn’t the easiest to write, so sit down and try to think kindly towards me.

We’ve been friends a long time now. I value that, more than anything else I have. More than anything I could be offered. But And things are good right now, I’m not trying to mess it up. Things are good with you and me, and Spock and me, and you and Spock. And all three of us.

We’re religious men, is there a prayer that helps someone get to the point?

Vulcans do relationships differently. Marriage between two people, different genders, very old fashioned. Not that we’re looking at marriage, I just say it to highlight what Spock’s used to. Now, beyond the simplicity of that kind of marriage, whatever makes a couple calm and productive is encouraged. It’s not secret, exactly, it’s more like this free love world simmering under the lid. I think you’d warm to it as a style of dating. I know you’ve only ever looked at that kind of marriage as the way of things for you, but you know there’s other ways relationships can form. I know you know that. I hope you’re not against it, personally, I’ve never been bold enough to bring it up even hypothetically. Which feels like an error now. It’s fun dating Spock. He’s private, like you. He’s not romantic, but he pays attention and he wouldn’t appreciate me saying but there’s an affection in him.

I’m going to break a promise to you now, Bones. That night at the academy, when I got stood up and you came out to have a drink and help me look less pathetic. I know you regret it, but I don’t. I mean, I didn’t love it when you stopped kissing me back, but I don’t regret making a move. And the way it’s going now, I can’t stop from offering again. I know there’s risk in this, but I just have to think it’s worth the shot.

Come by, and stay a bit later. With more love than you know about, Jim

McCoy sat back with a sigh. He wished it were more of a shock, really. He’d been sure Jim was hitting on him, but he’d convinced himself otherwise. Made no sense, he was years into a perfectly suited relationship with Spock. But those lingering touches to his shoulder, whispered jokes… He glanced up at the half finished bottle of quite illegal Romulan whiskey he adored, which Jim had slipped him a few weeks ago. It wasn’t so appealing right now.

Or maybe it really was. Christ. His gut was curling uncomfortably. His skin was hot. Where the fuck had Jim even gotten real paper to write on?

Worst thing was he didn’t hate the idea. McCoy squeezed his eyes shut. No, that wasn’t the worst, the worst thing was that Jim hadn’t said a fucking thing about what Spock thought. Just that Vulcans apparently didn’t mind a bit on the side if it kept a marriage calm.

Was that it? What the fuck was this? He slammed a hand onto the table and read the passage about Vulcan marriages again. Nothing about what Spock wanted with him, if anything. It was as useful to him as a damned encyclopedia entry.

What was Jim asking? And did Spock know about this damned letter?

here's your ao3 link <3

#mcspirk fic #mcspirk #mcspirk tos

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louisinart · 1 year ago

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rewatching ofmd s1 and I'm absolutely blown away by how much Jim comes into themselves by the end of season two. Knowing the character they become its really stunning to see how disengaged and cynical they are at the start of it all.

Their motivations are almost entirely reactive, to escape Spanish jackie and then to live out their nanas dream of justice. The while time they are in survival mode, moving quickly and efficiently and quietly. Ultimately, moving how they were trained to and nothing else. Because it works! It works so well that I didn't consider something might be missing.

But in season two they're made to be messy, loud. They are stuck on Ed's Breakdown Ship and so have to act differently than they ever have. Not just because they are yelling and screaming and covered in blood cutting a guys leg off, either. They're connecting and caring and critiquing and supporting, they're emotionally engaged in a real way that they very much weren't in season 1. Every day on Ed's ship is horrible, but at least they're present for it. Every day pushes them to be in survival mode but they refuse. They tell fang a story, they kiss Archie back. When Ed says "kill or die" they say "no."

And then, after all that, when they finally get to rest again? Yeah, it's a rough transition, but once they get through it they're absolutely fucking teeming with life. They're painting on a mustache, they're creating conspiracies, they're crossing boundaries to get olus girlfriend back. When the dust settles Jim is inhabiting themselves in a way we haven't seen in the show previously. There is a richness to their character that feels incredibly natural and earned, to the point that I didn't even notice it until I went back to season one and realized how lost they were.

Its pretty obvious that this show is about Ed and stedes collective mid life crisis, but it wasn't until now that I realized its also Jim's coming of age

#Which is to say NOTHING of the gender of it all #ofmd season 2 #Ofmd #Jim Jimenez #I was starting to think I wouldn't write any meta for this season #And then #Mine #Ofmd meta #I have s1ep4 paused halfway thru rn because this swept through me like a hurricane #I will take my attention now thank you 🫴🫴

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guidingthulite · 4 months ago

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guys if the next n25 event is kanade5 and kanade helps mizuki in a way no one else could because kanade is what brought n25 together in the first place and gives mizuki strength to face her fears can you all go "alma you're so smart" and "alma we love you and your infinite wisdom" and "alma i'm going to draw kanamizu for you"

#proseka #project sekai #mizuki akiyama #kanade yoisaki #kanamizu #mizukana #i also accept written kanamizu i accept all forms of kanamizu 😤#'any reason you brought this up' THE CARDS!!!!! THERE'S A FRILLY STRING OF FABRIC IN EVERY CARD EXCEPT KANADE'S!!!!!!!#KANADE IS HOLDING MIZUKI'S BOW INSTEAD!!!!!!!!!!!! IT MUST BE FORESHADOWING!!!!!!!!!!!#it's also me manifesting kanamizu because i swear we haven't had a proper kanamizu event since carnation #which is my fav niigo event and it's not even CLOSE #also i've lost hope on them continuing kanade's dad's storyline #also kanade focuses are sadly never kanade focuses at all #like colopale will probably go 'oh wasn't kanade4 nice? wasn't it nice how it ACTUALLY was a kanade focus?' and then go 'fuck you lol <3'#seriously though kanade4 was so good.......... even the 4koma catered to me lmao kanamizuena best niigo ship i love them so much #ever since i guessed the mfks dynamic i am a bit too proud #but to be fair i also guessed tsukasa and saki would be on the same colorfes #and that mfks would meet at an anni event but have an event together on june and that it'd be a lim #and that tsukasa has an underlying moon motif #and that shizuku is the only person who can fluster tsukasa #granted all of those are tsukasa related but THAT MEANS NOTHING I'LL BE RIGHT ON THIS ONE. TRUST #i'm saying also a lot in this post jgbhjgfj #my other theory is that it'll get solved in a mix event w rui and an (and maybe the other kamiyama guys (gender neutral)#WAIT I ALSO GUESSED THAT KAITO WOULD DEBUT ON A KANADE FOCUS. THERE'S HOPE FOR THE THEORY KANAMIZU IS WELL AND ALIVE AND IT WILL HAPPEN!!!

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firecoloredwater · 3 hours ago

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I think in this case, it has to actually be a question of "to what extent was gender play an inherent and necessary part of the bodice ripper in the late 1960s?"

Because like, the sexism is most extreme in Dragonflight, and it was very firmly established in "Weyr Search," which Wikipedia tells me was published in 1967.

That's where we get Fax's harem of abused wives, and... I don't think we ever get anything like that again, actually? Like I don't think Meron or Chalkin or any other evil antagonist character gets to collect women to abuse; generally they seem to either be paired with an evil girlfriend (Meron/Kylara, the Oldtime weyrleader couples) or no wife is mentioned at all. Definitely nothing dwells on it like "Weyr Search"/the beginning of Dragonflight does.

There's plenty of other sexism after that point, like... uh, everything. Basically everything. But "Lessa is kept isolated and not told how mating flights work in order to keep her helpless" and "the Harper Hall doesn't allow girls to be apprentices" feel like a different flavor to me? They're close equivalents to things that were happening in the US and in Britain in real life at the time.

I started quoting from Wikipedia's Timeline of Women's Legal Rights for examples but there's too many actually, so I'm just linking it.

Anyway, I would say that gender play is, if not strictly necessary, then at least strongly desired as a facet of bodice rippers, because have you seen the entire concept of omegaverse. When we weren't comfortable using real genders for this people just flat out invented fantasy genders to use for it instead. Sometimes sentinel/guide gets used the same way, as does psychic wolves and of course Pern dragon colors.

But I don't think bodice rippers are necessary to explain it.

Looking through that Wikipedia list, the late 60s and early 70s had a lot of countries and states changing their laws to allow abortion if it was to save the life of the mother, and a few mentions of birth control being made legal for married couples; it's specified at least once in Dragonflight that Fax deliberately keeps his wives pregnant in an attempt to kill them, and Lady Gemma does indeed die.

There are a lot of entries about women fighting for the right to careers (horse jockey, reporter, stewardess, bartender, lawyer) and equal pay, and in the late 70s we get Dragonsong and Dragonsinger.

I don't (in my quick peek during work) see any mentions of laws or court cases about directly equivalent situations to the whole "Lessa isolated in the Weyr, taught nothing useful and not allowed to speak to anyone that might be on her side" thing, but like... that's pretty hard to legislate. Given that abortion rights, the right for women to own their own property, and the right to have jobs and equal pay were all recurring themes, I think it's a safe bet that 'abusive husband/father/other male family isolates a woman and sabotages her education and friendships in order to control her' was probably something in the general feminist consciousness at the time.

So. basically. Anne McCaffrey was absolutely coming from a bodice ripper background, and that's why we have mating flights, but I think the rest of the sexism was mostly because all of it was happening in the world around her as she wrote, and so she wrote about it.

i still think that one of the worst things pernese history implies is that if you had a society where misogyny is supposed to be gone or at least greatly reduced and then took away their technology and put them in a hard situation they would re-evolve hardcore misogyny again, where women are clearly and obviously seen as lesser and can't have some jobs or be leaders. it's lazy, it implies that misogyny is because of something inherent about women, and it doesn't even make sense in the context in which it's presented.

"they felt the need to protect women because they can get pregnant and they were worried about population," cool, give them like, a sense of high value around the weight and importance of pregnancy then, or if you want it to be something negative that people who can become pregnant face, add in heavy expectations around getting pregnant/ taking care of yourself or being taken care of during pregnancy.

#Pern #also Dragonsdawn was published a full two decades after Dragonflight which I think is like. Relevant.#to the 'where did all this sexism come from?!' question #we don't have a good logical explanation because the sexism came first and the egalitarian past was the retcon #I have! a lot of other thoughts!#but unfortunately I also have work

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andiv3r · 2 months ago

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Sometimes I see something that reminds me that other people are using this website in a drastically different way from how I am

#this is the argue about which flavour of trans has it worse website for some people rather than the #yknow. talk about your blorbos website.#can't even imagine.#we all have it bad just shut the fuck uuupppp. nobody has it inherently better or worse due to being transmasc or transfem #stop trying to reinvent the gender binary and Go Outside #i say as a genderfluid nb intersex transfemmasc person. please for fucks sake Stop doing this this argument should be Over #transmascs are not inherently scary or predatory or Bad or Evil because they're men or man adjacent. transfemmes are not inherently good and #pure and always right because they're women or woman-adjacent.#there is nothing inherently Good or Bad about being A Gender. it's just what you are #you people make me so so fucking tired #anyone can be a bad or good person. we're all trans we all experience oppression stop trying to make it a contest for Fucks Sake

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pardonmydelays · 3 months ago

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i never told you this but i actually watched the warriors (movie) and while the concept album is incredible, the movie literally sucks lmao

#like... no offence lin honey but why would you even want to adapt such a shitty movie #what was the reason behind this #there is not a single character in the movie that i like all of them literally suck #no one is even interesting #well maybe except cyrus but we all know what happened to cyrus #and luther this little crazy motherfucker but that's only because he makes me laugh #mercy wasn't actually that bad but compared to the musical mercy she's literally nothing #ajax is my favourite warrior but movie ajax is a fucking asshole and a rapist??? wtf?#fox didn't even have personality and they just killed him off so early lmao no one even asked about him which is hilarious #also what was the reason for them to take mercy with them like it doesn't make any sense to me #in the musical she wanted to be a warrior too so she just decided to follow them but in the movie...?#she didn't have to go with them like? what??#what the fuck was that?#this movie is so bad it's actually hilarious #and i only had fun because i found out they took a lot of quotes from the movie and used them in the songs and that's fucking awesome #but that's it #like #that was the worst thing i've ever watched in my entire life and i fucking love the musical #i love that lin and eisa gave them all personalities and made them interesting and likeable #and the whole gender swipe thing works very well here so yeah #yes i am a hater mind your own business #warriors #lmm #i say whatever and whatever that i want*

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feline-evil · 10 months ago

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Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

#metalocalypse #jay talkin #I'm sorry they wrote that awful gross little man far too likeable and relatable to on a trans level #for me not to hoot and holler and cheer for the trans pickles agenda #changes nothing about his character arc or any of the show anyone is capable of being the kind of person he is #don't make the mistake of thinking thats exclusive to cis men #his transness wouldnt change that #only adds on an extra layer to him that i think works fantastically.#Listen that dude was rejected by his family driven to drink and drugs young to escape that ran away to be in a band #is called fucking Pickles of all things and refuses to tell anyone his real last name;#over the span of four seasons and two movies he slowly starts to learn to be for others what he never had #he becomes more caring more supportive #it's not a stretch to say he undoes some of the toxic masculinity he's been keeping himself shielded behind #and learns how to be a kinder man.#all of which have no contradictions with him being trans!#In fact it doesn't take much extra thought to find ways a lot of this can line up with some trans masculine experiences #i mean. Did no one else have a younger phase where they swung as far as they could into crass rude and uncaring ways #to try and assert their masculinity only to grow and realise that you can be a man and be more caring.#Did no one else have father issues. 1 800 come on now i know those are both shared experiences a lot of us have had LOL.#at the end of the day this show aired nearly 20 years ago and is finished. we're not getting more of it #so nothing is altered nor changed if pickles is canonically trans or not ok. its fine #i mean hell i dont even need canon confirmation hes trans to me and thats all i care abt #but i think if yr getting suuuuuper weird abt needing him not to be canonically trans you have some issues #and bio essentialist ideals of gender if you think only a cis man can act like he does #again. anyone can be like that. its not exclusive. him being trans would not change him in any way shape or form lol #AND ALSO GODDDUUUGH for once i love getting to see a guy pushing 50 whos depicted as trans #do you have any idea how dire and barren it is out here. we never get to see a trans guy older than 30 and whos not a pristine model #I WANT MORE OLD SHLUBBY SHITHEAD TRANS GUYS IN MEDIA

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soo-won · 6 months ago

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Hi!! I’ve been following your tumblr and Twitter for a while now and I love all your akayona analyses. ❤️ I remember your rambles about headcanoning Suwon as transmasc/transfem? Could I hear more abt that? It’s rlly cool cause I feel he’s portrayed in an incredibly gender neutral light, in comparison to many other male leads :)

Thank you so much for wonderful ask! I'm glad you like my analysis :') Idk who you are but thank you for the support!!

And yeah! I headcanon Suwon as non-binary and there is a lot to unpack about his gender imo...I very much believe akayona has a lot to say about gender especially through Yona and Suwon's characters, and in that Suwon being a man and Yona being a woman is thematically important. But the way the story presents this theme in Suwon's character in his struggle (or lack of) with balancing between "masculinity" and "feminity" can make him easily readable as trans. Transfem or transmasc and every nuance in between.

I've also been headcanoning him as non-binary from before the manga truly explored these aspects only because I'm non-binary and I related to him too so it's not that deep. But as you said he is portrayed more gender neutrally than most male characters of the cast from the beginning and I think it's worth exploring. Whether he's gender non confirming in universe is interesting to discuss too, because you have other characters like Joon-gi for example, but he's at least not really traditionally masculine from our standards when you first see him.

(Long post under the cut)

But as much as it doesn't have to be that deep, I'm also convinced it actually is and that's why I'm entering character analysis territory here, so please stay with me ahah. When I think about Suwon's gender, I just can't not think about his parents and what they represent to him and how that ties to his overall character arc. Yuhon and Yonhi are pretty much the "ideal" symbols of traditional masculinity and feminity we have in the story in their gender roles and the values associated with them. Suwon is one of the rare character we have a glimpse of both parents that lived long enough for him to remember and be impacted by both. This sounds silly but basically Suwon's gender is like,, if a man and a woman had a baby to me fnbkjhbgkjhbgh.

In universe, Yuhon represents strength, courage and reason. He is the traditional and ideal male. He is bold, brash, dominant. He is the parent Suwon deeply admires and longed to be like, and that he then took upon himself to replace after his passing. He's the figure everyone in Kouka remembers positively as a competent and strong leader. He's the parent that taught Suwon to see people as pieces on a chessboard and to always be pragmatic, to make the most effective and straightforward decisions. Suwon inherented some of these traits himself, but the entire struggle of his character is that he isn't and cannot exactly be his father, that he can't follow in his father's footsteps (or what he thinks they are) as much as he and the people around him would like. This ideal masculinity represented by Yuhon is not something Suwon is able to achieve and that we should wish for. The other side of the coin is dominance and violence, it's stealing the agency of others with no regard to their person, it's causing a chain of pain and more violence. Suwon, ultimately, cannot and shouldn't respond to all these expectations. They're not him. Because he is also Yonhi's son, which he tried to cover as much as he can as a King.

Because in contrast, Yonhi represents the "ideal femininity" that is passive, sentimental and kind. Her assigned role was only to serve Yuhon and Suwon, and had no power for much else. In appearance, she's the ideal wife and mother. She is conventionally very feminine, we see her with different garments, accessories and haircut in every scene, hinting that it's something she likes (especially when you compare with Kashi)... She's kept in the dark about Yuhon's secrets and all he does when he leaves the castle and fights on the battlefield. She has no agency. She is the parent forgotten by all, never mentioned even by Suwon, who died with nothing to her name. She is the parent that didn't want Suwon to kill Il but to think about Yona, she is the one who taught him about kindness. (i also mentionned yuhon and yonhi's respective legacy here)

And the irony is, physically Suwon is almost a copy of his mother. At first glance, Suwon is in general much more like her than he is like Yuhon. Suwon is pretty and cute, and is assumed to be weak, passive, and lacking in general as a warrior. Suwon, who wishes he was like his father, looks "nothing" like him and actually looks like his very feminine mother. And the thing is, what makes him so gender ambiguous is that he actually embraces that. Suwon uses his appearance and plays with the perception others have of him so they underestimate him (Geuntae, Soojin, Li Hazara,...) he has a very similar haircut as his mother, is interested in swordfight, tactics, but he's also into flowers, tea and sweets, he wore clothes with flower and butterflies patterns before his coronation (which is not supposed to be only a women thing of course but in universe I don't have any other example of male characters having those so I take it into account), he interacts with other female characters like a peer that share the same interests, too. He is first perceived the same way as Il and the opposite of his father or warriors like Geuntae, Mundok or Hak. He isn't like Il or Yonhi though, and that's what makes him not entirely feminine either, he actually proves himself as a man to these people after all.

But even as a child, Suwon took up the role of a mother for Yona like it was the most natural thing in the world. And in a similar fashion he also took up the role of Yuhon to "take care" and "protect" his mother, and to lead Kouka. Suwon is able to navigate both feminine and masculine roles depending on what is the most fitting to the situation at hand, and he achieves that with little struggle. This is probably the point that makes him so gender fluid? He's fine with both, it feels natural to him, this is what differentiates him from his parents' image shackled by very stereotypical gender norms. It's definitely what makes him so unique and himself. Suwon is always described as having equal interests and curiosity for everything and everyone, and it plays a part in this as well. In a world where interests are gender divided, where women are encouraged to have interest in love, fashion, luxuries and where the men are rather into sword training or studies, Suwon who can jump from one to the other with ease, like gender doesn't matter feels especially liberating.

But Suwon is actually still shackled and not immune to patriarchy and it all ties to the meaning behind the position of a King. Suwon loved his mother, and he sincerely loved Yona before the coup just like she was for being cute and kind and bringing him warmth. "Feminity" isn't a sin or bad to Suwon, he even values it. However, for him and many others in universe, all these things are unfitting for a King, like...he likes it, but he thinks he doesn't need it for his goal. Which leads us to King Il.

Suwon values "feminity" and is aware of that part of himself, but rejects it when he has to act as a King. "Masculinity" is about being strong, strong enough to protect, and being "feminine" puts you in a position of weakness and powerlessness. I don't think it's a coincidence that he inherited his illness from his mother either, which literally puts him in a position of vulnerability and weakness that he absolutely hates and tries to cover up. Feminity is fine for women and the roles assigned to them, they are lovely as they are, left behind but where they can keep being kind and sentimental while the strong men go to battle and manage affairs, basically. Kouka is a patriarchal society with all these norms being continuously enforced, and where being King was exclusively a masculine position until recent development. Before Suwon ascended to the throne, Yona was the first heir, yet the position of next ruler after her father wasn't to be given to her, but whoever would be her future husband. Yona would have been only a Queen, not one with particular ruling power, but in the sense of being the wife of the King, the same way Kashi was.

So then, Il appears as a failure as a King. He's the example and proof to Suwon that "feminity" is not compatible with the position and that he has to differentiate from him in every way. Suwon liked Il for his kindness and believed in him until he killed his father and proved to be uncompetent as a ruler. Il's kindness and reliance on the divine are unreasonable and based on emotionalism for Suwon. His refusal to use any weapon makes him a coward and weak, and waiting for the gods to save them makes him passive...It's what led Kouka to the sad state it was at the beginning of the story.

To Suwon, feelings, kindness, traits associated with feminity as we've seen, make him weak. He doesn't need it. It's what makes him reluctant and risks to deviate him from his goal and duties as a King. He can't afford to feel for Yona or anyone, he has to take the most efficient decisions with no remorse for people's feelings and especially not his. This is why Yona is so important and the lead of Akatsuki no Yona. Yona redefines what we associate with either masculinity and feminity. Strength, kindness, sentimentality, reason...They're all needed, they don't have to, and they shouldn't be divided so strickly and imposed on people based on their gender and roles. (Especially when it's obviously girls and women suffering from it the most). This divide between Yona and Suwon doesn't have to be, Suwon takes time to accept it, to accept Yona to enter his chessboard and value her as an equal and not just because she's kind and cute. And in doing so, it opens the door for him to also accept his own feelings, his own "weaknesses". Feelings and kindness actually hold so much power, they can actually make you stronger, that's what made Yona and Hak so bright to his eyes from the start, even if it took him long to fully realize it.

I feel like I deviated from the initial topic, but it's all important I swear. It doesn't mean Suwon gave up all his old ways either, he still embraces what he learned and admired in his father, not everything was forced upon him and I believe he genuinely connected with his father's vision. But it's about balancing this with the things he was convinced he had to reject and discard all this time.

That said, here are some examples of how it opens the door for transmasculine and transfeminine interpretations of Suwon's character arc, there can be others of course, but those are the ones I naturally came up with thinking about all this:

If you read Suwon's story as a transmasculine experience, it clicks. From how he was "cute as a girl" in his childhood to the experience of feeling like to be a man, to pass as a man, you have to reject everything that is associated with feminity and force yourself to accept masculine values that are just not your real self, to then realize you don't have to do all that to be a man and it's fine to embrace your "feminity" too. (Btw I really encourage you to read the Requiem of the Rose King manga that is explicitely about this topic!)

If you read Suwon's story as the transfeminine experience, it clicks too. Suwon feeling like he has to and being pushed to follow in his father's footstep when that's just not his real self. The way that he represses his self, the metaphor of closed box and how he locks his true self and feelings into them, until it becomes too much and he can't ignore it anymore. That being a man is not for him, and he doesn't have to be.

Of course, you can also read him as a cis man that is more or less gender non-conforming, or in any nuance of non-binarity in between, but in conclusion, that's what makes Suwon so gender to me. (and again, you don't need any of what I wrote in this post to headcanon him however you want)

There is also something to say about how he's "lacking as man" in how he has no romantic or sexual interest in women, if you take into account all the junctions between gender and heteronormativity that I didn't really bring up here. This point always made him really stand out to me, but Suwon's sexuality is such a Topic I didn't want to adventure myself into today ahah.

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