#because i have so many fucking books to read

[satorena]

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: suggestive, kissing, swearing.

Katie McCabe x Reader:

Title: Offside Secrets

MasterList

Y/N wasn’t trying to snoop. Really, she wasn’t. But when you live with someone like Katie McCabe—a whirlwind of energy and attitude—you tend to notice when something’s off.

For the past week, Katie had been unusually quiet during their downtime. She’d sit curled up on the couch, her focus laser-sharp on a small paperback book. Not her phone, not Netflix, not even one of her beloved football highlight reels. Just…a book.

Y/N had tried to let it slide, chalking it up to Katie needing some personal space. But the curiosity was eating her alive. Katie McCabe was many things—brilliant on the pitch, quick with comebacks, and fiercely loyal to her team—but a bookworm? That was new.

One morning, while Katie was out on a run, Y/N finally gave in.

The book was sitting innocently on the coffee table, its cover face down as if Katie were deliberately hiding it. Y/N glanced toward the door, listening for any sign of Katie’s return. When the coast was clear, she flipped the book over.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. The cover featured a shirtless man holding a woman who appeared to be swooning dramatically in his arms. The back cover blurb described it as a “torrid tale of forbidden love, blazing passion, and scandalous secrets.”

“McCabe, what the hell?” Y/N muttered to herself, already stifling a laugh. She thumbed through the pages, skimming a particularly spicy passage. Her cheeks flushed, not from embarrassment, but from the sheer absurdity of imagining Katie reading this.

“Is this what you’ve been so secretive about?” Y/N whispered to the empty room.

Just as she set the book down, the door swung open. Katie burst in, her cheeks flushed from the cold morning air. Her eyes immediately landed on Y/N, who froze like a deer caught in headlights.

“What’re you doing?” Katie asked, her voice sharp.

“Nothing!” Y/N blurted, holding her hands up defensively.

Katie’s eyes narrowed. She marched over, spotted the book lying on the table, and groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back her grin. “Burning Desire, huh? Didn’t peg you for the romance novel type.”

Katie snatched the book off the table, her ears turning red. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, really? Because what I think is that you’re secretly a sucker for swooning heroines and steamy love affairs.”

Katie glared at her. “It’s none of your business.”

“But it’s hilarious,” Y/N teased, leaning back against the couch. “Does this mean you’re gonna start writing love poems in your free time?”

Katie’s lips twitched, betraying the beginnings of a smile. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And yet, you live with me.” Y/N stood and stretched, clearly enjoying Katie’s embarrassment. “Seriously, though. This is gold. Why didn’t you tell me you were into this stuff?”

Katie hesitated, clutching the book like it was a lifeline. “Because I knew you’d take the piss out of me, just like you’re doing now.”

“Okay, fair point.” Y/N softened, realizing she might have struck a nerve. “But it’s kind of…sweet, actually. You, reading something so—what’s the word? Sentimental.”

Katie scoffed. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s just a bit of escapism.”

“Sure, sure.” Y/N smirked, already planning how to work this into their next training session.

Katie groaned again, throwing the book into her bag. “If you say one word about this to anyone, I’ll—”

“Relax,” Y/N interrupted, holding up her hands. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”

Katie rolled her eyes and stalked off toward her room, but Y/N could hear the faintest hint of a laugh escaping her.

As the door clicked shut, Y/N sat back down, her mind still buzzing. She hadn’t meant to tease Katie so much, but there was something endearing about seeing her so flustered. It was a side of Katie she rarely got to see—vulnerable, human, and undeniably cute.

Shaking her head, Y/N tried to push the thought away. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself. But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Katie had reached her limit.

Y/N had been relentless all day. Ever since she found Katie’s romance novel, she hadn’t stopped teasing her. Every sly grin, every comment about “burning passions” or “torrid desires,” had Katie’s patience wearing thin.

By the time they returned home from training, Katie was fuming—but not in the way Y/N might expect.

“Y/N,” Katie called from the kitchen as she grabbed a glass of water.

“Yeah?” Y/N called back from the living room, lounging on the couch with the smugness of someone who thought they’d won.

Katie smirked to herself, an idea forming. If Y/N wanted to play games, she’d play back—and she’d win.

She walked into the living room, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “You’ve been at it all day. Got a problem, or are you just obsessed with me?”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm, maybe a little of both.”

Katie’s smirk widened. “You know, if you’re so curious about the book, I could read you a bit. Really give you a taste of it.”

Y/N laughed, sitting up. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Katie raised an eyebrow, sauntering around the couch to sit next to her. She grabbed the book from her bag and flipped it open, her eyes scanning the pages. “Let’s see…ah, here we go.”

Clearing her throat dramatically, Katie began to read aloud:

‘“His smoldering gaze met hers, igniting a fire deep within her soul. Her breath hitched as he whispered, his voice low and full of promise, “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel alive.”’”

Y/N froze, her eyes widening as Katie’s voice dropped into a husky tone, full of mock intensity.

“Stop,” Y/N said, holding up her hands.

Katie grinned. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?” She leaned closer, her voice taking on an exaggerated sultriness. “‘He traced a finger along her jawline, his touch sending shivers down her spine…’”

“Okay, okay!” Y/N interrupted, her cheeks flushing. “Point made!”

But Katie wasn’t done. She closed the book and turned to face Y/N fully, leaning an elbow on the back of the couch. Her smirk turned into something more dangerous, more…real.

“You know,” Katie said, her voice quieter now, “you’re giving me a hard time about this book, but I think you’re just scared.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Scared of what?”

“Scared you might like it if someone said those things to you.” Katie’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, her smirk softening into something more genuine.

Y/N’s throat went dry. She scrambled to come up with a witty comeback, but Katie’s boldness had completely thrown her off balance.

“I—uh—” Y/N stammered, looking anywhere but at Katie.

Katie leaned in just slightly, enough to make Y/N’s breath hitch. “See? You’re already blushing.”

“I am not,” Y/N mumbled, though her cheeks were undeniably warm.

Katie chuckled, leaning back and tossing the book onto the coffee table. “Alright, I’ll stop. For now. But just remember—if you’re gonna tease me, you’d better be ready to take it, too.”

Y/N sat there, stunned into silence as Katie stood and sauntered off to her room. The sound of the door clicking shut snapped her out of her daze, and she let out a shaky breath.

“Well,” Y/N muttered to herself, “that backfired spectacularly.”

From the other side of the door, Katie grinned to herself. Two could play this game—and she wasn’t planning on losing anytime soon.

The days that followed were a delicate dance of unspoken words and lingering glances. Katie and Y/N continued their routines—training sessions, shared meals, evenings spent watching television—but beneath the surface, the air was charged with a tension neither dared to address.

One evening, as they sat side by side on the couch, a romantic film playing softly in the background, Y/N couldn’t help but steal a glance at Katie. The flickering light from the screen cast shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her smile as she watched the movie.

Y/N’s mind wandered back to the novel—the catalyst for this shift between them. She wondered if Katie had been reading it again, if the words on those pages had stirred something within her, just as they had within Y/N.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “About that book…”

Katie turned to her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What about it?”

Y/N hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I was thinking… maybe I judged it too quickly. Maybe there’s more to it than I realized.”

A slow smile spread across Katie’s lips. “Oh? And what brought about this change of heart?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just… thinking about what you said. About being open to new experiences.”

Katie’s gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand over Y/N’s. “It’s just a book, Y/N. But if it made you think, then maybe it was worth all the teasing.”

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, her heart pounding in her chest. “Katie, I…” She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Katie’s expression grew serious, concern flickering in her eyes. “What is it?”

Y/N met her gaze, her voice trembling slightly. “I think… no, I know that I have feelings for you. More than just friendship.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Katie processed her words. Then, slowly, a radiant smile broke across her face. “Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Relief washed over Y/N, and she let out a shaky laugh. “Really?”

Katie nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Really. I didn’t want to push you, but I’ve felt the same way for a while now.”

Y/N’s heart soared, and she couldn’t help but grin. “So, what now?”

Katie leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now, we see where this goes. Together.”

As their lips met in a tender kiss, the tension that had been building between them melted away, replaced by a warmth that promised new beginnings and uncharted territories.

The novel that had once been a source of teasing had become the catalyst for something beautiful—a love story all their own.

In the days that followed, Katie and Y/N navigated their new relationship with the same teamwork and understanding that had defined their friendship. The teasing continued, but now it was laced with affection, each joke a reminder of the journey they’d embarked on together.

One evening, as they cuddled on the couch, Y/N picked up the infamous novel and waved it playfully.

“Shall we read a chapter together?” she suggested with a grin.

Katie laughed, pulling her closer. “Only if you promise not to mock my dramatic readings.”

Y/N feigned innocence. “Who, me? I would never.”

As they settled in to read, the words on the pages took on new meaning, each passage a reflection of their own unfolding story.

And as the night wore on, they realized that sometimes, the best love stories are the ones that catch you by surprise, turning the pages of your life in ways you never expected.

Their relationship continued to blossom, both on and off the field. Teammates began to notice the subtle changes—the shared smiles, the supportive glances, the way they seemed to move in perfect harmony during matches.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling practice, their teammate Lisa approached them, a knowing smile on her face.

“You two seem… different lately,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Katie and Y/N exchanged a glance, their cheeks flushing slightly.

“Just working on our teamwork,” Katie replied smoothly, though the corner of her mouth quirked up in a telltale smile.

Lisa chuckled, clearly unconvinced. “Well, whatever it is, keep it up. It’s doing wonders for our game.”

As she walked away, Y/N nudged Katie playfully. “Think she knows?”

Katie shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Let them wonder. As long as we know what we have, that’s all that matters.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a surge of affection for the woman beside her. “Agreed.”

As the season progressed, their bond only deepened, each victory on the field mirrored by the growth of their relationship off it. They faced challenges together, supported each other through setbacks, and celebrated each other’s successes with unwavering pride.

One evening, as they sat on the balcony of their apartment, watching the sun set over the city, Y/N turned to Katie, her expression thoughtful.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asked softly.

Katie looked at her, her eyes filled with warmth. “All the time. And lately, those thoughts always include you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion. “Me too. I can’t imagine it any other way.”

Katie reached out, taking Y/N’s hand in hers. “Then let’s make a promise. No matter what comes our way, we’ll face it together. As partners, on and off the field.”

Y/N squeezed her hand, a smile spreading across her face. “Deal.”

[charmac]

thoughts on charlie learning how to read?

As to the effect, I think we’ll have to wait to see what really comes of it, considering the very final joke of the episode is he thinks “guest” on the scoreboard says “ghost,” they definitely made a point to make it clear he’s not necessarily literate by any means beyond “enough to graduate kindergarten”

I do like what Justin and Patrick, the EPs for Abbott said about the longevity of that establishment:

In the end, it’s definitely what Sunny and Charlie Day decide to do with this canon. We know the Abbott ep was filmed before any of the episodes for Season 17 of Sunny, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they do stick with the idea that Charlie doesn’t struggle as much with reading and writing and maybe has a little kick in him to keep practicing.

Personally on the existence of the storyline now incorporated into Sunny canon, I think they did it in such a fantastic way it’s hard for me to argue anything against or say anything negative. I loved watching it. The thing I love about Abbott is the heart they have in the stories and how real a lot of what they address and tackle in childhood-into-adult development is, and you feel that here, for sure. And we’re watching Abbott, not Sunny, so it’s something removed from the purgatory of the bar.

For those of us that know and love Charlie, I think it’s hard to not feel soft toward this idea that (even if it doesn’t stick or it’s so so basic) there really truly are ways for the Gang to develop and improve on their faults/stubbornness to change, provided it’s treated the right way. And that can only be done (and maybe only continue) in a completely different environment, like Abbott.

The tragedy of Sunny and the Gang is that they’ll never treat each other in that way and therefore can rarely develop. It’s not that they don’t necessarily care, but that their communication methods are so crude and fulled by (often trauma-born) selfishness, they can never give each other the support needed to help improve each other. They make each other miserable in most cases, but they’re also content with that because they almost equally inflict what they take on....

Though Sunny isn't all complete misery, as we all know. They do love each other in fucked up ways and (maybe) almost wish they could help each other in certain respects. Mac's support and encouragement of Charlie being able to read is evident in many Sunny episodes, so it really warmed my heart that Charlie was so eager to show Mac how he had learned and could do a more difficult part of the book for him :) In my opinion, they kept it well aligned with Sunny canon. The Gang don't have the tools to teach Charlie to read, but they do all support and even partly enjoy him learning if they don't have to do it themselves.

I think what we see of Charlie in the Sunny episode will be interesting. Since he's the A plot in Abbott, I have to imagine he has a minor role in Sunny, but will certainly be present. If the idea here is that everyone other than Dennis is serving to distract the teachers, and Charlie only learned to read for the week and goes back to his baseline state of illiteracy, I think I would accept that too.

The lasting effect of the plot doesn't matter too much to me. I think instead the idea that, in the right environment, Charlie can learn to read (and even gets some sense of pride and excitement out of being able to read) but Paddy's and the Gang are really what hinder him from being able to do so (despite the Gang not necessarily against the idea, and considering the fact that Charlie contributes to and prefers the environment they've created) reinforces the Sunny that we hold dear.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Ford getting sick and you have to take care of him. hes so stubborn, I bet he refuses to accept that he's sick and even once he does he thinks it won't interfere with his work or anything anyways. minutes later he's passed out at his desk. poor thing. drag him to bed and help him through the fever dreams and unsavory symptoms. doctor, he needs cuddles, stat!

I like to think that once he's returned from the portal, he's got an exceptionally developed immune system. I mention it in Spores (with the death cap thing) and I do think he'd have picked up so many foreign germs that he just kind of becomes super resilient to bugs and stuff in his home dimension, to a certain extent.

BUT, there's nothing funnier to me than imagining him believing this 1000% and never taking precautions, then catching the most regular ass flu and being devastated by it. Like, picture War of the Worlds: all these crazy aliens who are super developed end up dying out because they catch fucking H1N1 LMAOOOOOO

He gets the first twinges of the flu (headaches, soreness etc) and assumes it's just being old/typical chronic pain/because he's been overworking, and so he just ignores it. It's no big deal.

Except, the next day, he wakes up feeling absolutely rotten. Head throbbing, body aching, feeling like he's moving through molasses, sweaty, snotty, just generally disgusting.

Everyone can see that he's poorly, except for Ford. He starts losing his voice because he refuses to shut up and rest his throat, and if he takes the advice then he has to acknowledge that he's unwell. So he refuses. He just goes on in the way he usually does, over explaining things and lecturing until it goes completely. Nothing more than a squeak.

He'll keep working, though. He's just got to power through it, he won't back down! He's in the lab wondering why he's got double vision when he tries to concentrate on his samples and he ends up getting mad at himself for not being able to focus, so he retires to his study in the hopes that maybe he can get some shitty paperwork done.

Which is where, as you say, you find him a few hours later, slumped over his desk, passed the fuck out and drooling on his papers.

You're loathe to move him because he never sleeps this soundly, but he's going to totally fuck up his back if he stays hunched over like that, so you have to very carefully wake him up and gently (but firmly) convince him that he has to go to bed for his own good. I expect his willpower to resist at that point would be very low and so it wouldn't take much.

So you guide him into his bed and fetch him tea and soup and cold medicine, and tend to his needs like the perfect nurse. Maybe he asks you to bring some books to bed because he thinks he'll be bored, but because he's too exhausted to even sit upright, you offer to read them to him until he passes out again.

And I definitely think he'd end up falling asleep on you. He won't outright be vulnerable and ask for a cuddle but he'll allude to it heavily, and you'll pick up what he's putting down because at this point, you've gotten used to his weird communication issues. So you prop yourself up next to him in bed and he snuggles up close.

I do think Ford's a big guy, though, so he'd pin you with his dead weight and you wouldn't be able to move without disturbing him.

Thankfully, he doesn't have any nightmares. I think usually he would but instead of the typical fever dreams most people get when they're suffering a bad flu, Ford gets the reverse: just a dead, black sleep. It ends up being quite pleasant for him and he conks out each night for like 14 hours straight for the first time in like 30 years.

He'd be soooo utterly pathetic and needy; can't do anything for himself and even needs help to be bathed when the flu peaks because he's so weak..... He totally groans and complains non stop, bless him.

When he gets back to normal though, he's totally revitalised and energetic from all the rest and TLC. It's like he's a young man again, raring to go and bouncing off the walls ("I should get sick more often, this is wonderful!").

And then a few days later, when you start sneezing and aching, Ford has to do all the same things for you.... In between several fruitless attempts to synthesize a cure for the common cold just for you. (He fails every time, of course, but he tries his best).

[its-grape-juice-i-swear]

Rowling doesn't have some kind of special immunity from the Death of the Author. Her works can still be analyzed using it (in fact I believe that the Harry Potter canon is one of the best demonstration cases for the theory that exists). The problem with using the Death of the Author as a shield to deflect criticism about engaging with Rowling's work is that that isn't what the Death of the Author is for.

The Death of the Author is a lens of critical analysis. It is a way to read. Applying the Death of the Author to a book is a method to hone in on specific themes present in the text. If you are trying to apply a specific interpretation of HP, the Death of the Author may be a useful tool in your analytical tool belt for explaining broader concepts and narrative structures.

What the Death of the Author does not do is stop Rowling from spending her exorbitant wealth on political policies. There are many problems with Rowling, but above them all is the fact that J K Rowling uses her obscene wealth as political leverage. If you financially support her, you are being made an agent of that machine. You can't use the Death of the Author to support Rowling in an "unproblematic" or "pro-lgbt" way because that isn't what the Death of the Author does! If you support Rowling's works, your dollars are being spent on making the lives of trans people in England materially worse. There is no way to change this. Rowling's bank isn't earmarking funds from book sales from leftists so their money isn't being spent on problematic stuff. It's her fucking money, she'll spend it however she wants to, and let me be clear: Rowling has made it extremely evident how she wants to spend her money.

The problem with JK Rowling has (almost) nothing to do with her writing as a critical element. The problem is that Rowling uses her vast wealth, which she gets from Harry Potter merchandise, to support political policies which are abhorrent and actively harmful. Stop giving her money.

I haven't purchased a HP item in close to a decade - I use the books I already had as doorstops or to prop a laptop up for meetings nowadays.

There is NO "death of the author" with JK Rowling - she controls and continues to profit from her IP, and uses that money to fund hate groups.

[molter-writes]

pleeeasssee miller i know you let the work stand on it's own but please tell us jsut a tad bit more about the valyerian sex magic!!!!

i meannnn

on valyrian sex magic

i am not the person to ask for the true asoiaf lore, of course; but there is obviously a pervasive source of magic across Planetos — accessible by many cultures in many different forms — and the "flavour" of the magic of each is very much a reflection, i think, of what GRRM wants us to glean about each. the Starks are themselves effectively the oldest singular consistent human organisation, if you will, that we actually meet in the books, and their magic is extremely rudimentary and primordial—they turn into animals and talk to trees. It's giving primordial man, it's giving Lucy—humanity as a symbiotic participant in (rather than an editor of) the natural world.

fast forward almost five thousand years: the valyrians are not tree hugging hunter-gatherers. they are the roman empire if the roman empire were composed of evil wizards. Their magic is dark, rooted in blood and fire—it was a tool of mind control, of asymmetric warfare, of wroth destruction. It required blood sacrifice and whips and horns and knives. It mated slave women to animals to produce grotesque chimeras. The entire thing is about the subjugation, not the embrace, of nature. Obviously until we have WoW or (lol) aDoS, we won't know—and maybe not even then—but the best prevailing theory in my view is that blood of the dragon is literal. Planetos has wyverns and, more importantly, firewyrms (flightless, firebreathing lizards) that the Valyrians almost certainly combined with human beings in some ritualistic hellcurse to produce the first dragons. this explains (1) the psychogenic bond between rider and dragon; (2) why nobody without valyrian blood can ride one; (3) the decline of the dragons correlating near-perfectly with the Andalisation (read: de-magifying) of the Targaryens; and perhaps most importantly, (4) why an animal that can fly hundreds of miles in a day would for some reason be found only on a single small isle in some random corner of a massive content that has volcanos and mountains and hot weather elsewhere. only one culture having dragons is like only one airport having planes.

much like the american NRA often asserts about guns, dragons are something of a sexual equaliser. part of why rhaenyra is so much freer than alicent when they're young is not merely because of her elevated social station (which is a principal part of it, yes) but also because she is in sole possession of one of the only six nukes in the world. At fifteen Rhaenyra possesses the power to go burn Riverrun to its foundation. I mean, if you thought Daenerys had firepower—regardless of D&D's absolute boneheaded visual mistakes in the show—Syrax is bigger than Drogon.

in any case i digress; i bring this up to make the point that while we do know valyria was a patriarchy of sorts, you can imagine a world in which a valyrian noble house would be headed (on occasion) by a woman because she is the most powerful imperial military leader because she is in command of the largest dragon. as a result, you can imagine a culture that embraces less patriarchal sexual and gender politics than do the Andals, and when take this inference a step further with the chimeras and the dragon-making and all the other frankensteinian blood magic, i just don't think it's that much of a leap to imagine that some dragon-wielding all-powerful female ruthless blood wizard in ancient Valyria decided—based on blood purity or necessity or ego or whatever—to impregnate some other woman. some maesters recorded that dragons appeared to change their sex—becoming able and unable to lay and fertilise eggs. Anyway, I just don't put genderbending and fempreg past the people who—if the theory is right—invented fucking dragons. It seems easier to do magic pregnancy than to do dragons. idk. melisandre gave birth to a shadow. nearly every ancient tradition on the planet can explore the miracle of virgin conception but we can't have lesbo baby?? why?? thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[nomi-c]

Pottery ventures

Professions (1/8) {San}

{San x Reader}

Wordcount: 7K

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Pet names (sweetheart), cursing (fuck), Dominant San , Oral Female receiving, Protected intercourse, Fingering

A/n: as always with my ff's, this ff isn't meant to represent the artist in any way or form!

-Minors don't read-

With a last glance on your Phone, you cursed your best friend for cancelling on your monthly planned meet up in the very last second.

Are you sure you can't make it? You texted her, even though you already knew the answer. She spontaneously needs to stay longer at work because of some emergency at the ER.

If you would have known sooner you would've called the workshop owner and cancelled the appointment, but you were already in front of the little studio and the appointment would start in around 10 minutes.

The day was really calm and no one expected a emergency this size.... I'm sure you'll have fun at the workshop, we can still book another appointment at that shop for maybe next week?

You sighed and watched your breath form into tiny clouds as you took a sip of your coffee and pulled the scarf tighter around your neck and partly covered your nose and mouth from the biting snowy wind that caused you to shiver heavily.

I will ask him for another appointment after today, no worries. Stay strong! Love you xxx

Without waiting for another reply since you knew she was busy treating emergency patients, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and gripped the door handle.

Staying a second longer outside wasn't ideal, seeing as in this part of the town not many people stayed outside after it got dark. It didn't matter that it was only 7pm on a Thursday, once it was dark people stayed at home. It wasn't like the area was criminally populated, it was more that the way the block was built gave off strange vibes and an eerie feeling once the sun set. Maybe it also had to do with the past of this exact block that gave you shivers whenever you thought about the mall tragedy years back.

They were in the middle of renovating the block and erasing the ugly past with new parks and buildings and incredible cafés but nonetheless people didn't forget things that easily and you were sure it would take a long while till people would be walking here carefree again.

The little Pottery studio you would visit today however had a owner who only moved here 6 months ago and probably didn’t know the history of this area before he opened the newly build studio here. When you and your best friend searched for a cool new hobby, you found his website and his rating was 5 stars through the bench.

You decided to give him a shot since the comments were good and some of the pieces you saw on his website were drop dead gorgeous. It wasnt the first workshop you both visited, seeing as you made it your adventure to try new workshops and courses every few meet ups. From photography to drawing, and from parkour lasertag. Every thing so far was awesome and a few things got stuck with you. Two of those things being Taekwondo and Art.

You smiled at the many memories that rotated in your inner eye. With a last look around you, you cautiously pushed the door open and a little bell above you ringed quietly. You instantly reveled in the warmth of the studio as you stepped in fully, you never were the biggest fan of winter and today was a particularly cold day.

Your eyes roamed over the beautifully black and white designed lobby with incredibly expensive looking modern art pieces and others that seemed like landscapes and some others like momentous of people you didn't recognize.

Walking a bit closer to it, you noted that every Individual piece was lit on by a over head lamp that gave each one its own stage and moment to shine and next to each painting you saw a little silver plate that described the painting and mentioned it's artist.

All of them were drawn by the same person, Park Seonghwa. The name didn't sound familiar to you, but whoever he is, he is a incredible painter.

You moved a bit more into the lobby and your gaze fell behind the counter, where you spotted a big lit up showcase with some of the crafted pieces you saw on the website, and with it you again saw little metal signs with the names of the people who crafted them.

You had to give it to the owner, he had a love for crediting every person he had pieces of and everyone who created art in his studio. You decided then and there that you already liked the guy.

To your left, you saw a small sitting corner which consisted of two white couches on opposite sites of one another, a black fluffy carpet and a rectangular glass table with art and crafting magazines stacked on one side of it.

On the wall next to the sitting area, you saw a makeshift bistro station with a fancy looking Barista coffee machine.

Without doubt the owner didn't only have taste in aesthetic but also in what he consumes, and what he offers his guests you thought to yourself as you saw the variety of pastries next to the coffee machine.

With a last longing look towards the sweet and probably incredibly delicious pastries, you turn back towards the front of the store.

Your eyes travel back towards the counter ahead of you, it is all black and neatly organised from what you could see behind the counter, once you reached the front of it.

Your eyes focused on the jumping screensaver on the computer on the right, that was partly turned into your direction.

You started hearing louder growing steps and focused your attention on the stack of business cards that laid out next to the blooming Poinsettia.

Only when he made his stance behind the counter, you looked up from the business card and your eyes locked with his.

Your breath however got lost along the way, he was around one head taller than you, had dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes and a set of adorable dimples that demanded your full attention right instantly.

He seemed to work out a lot, seeing as his frame was huge compared to you, and by huge you were talking about the fact that you could disappear behind his back fully. Looking a bit further down, the black tight shirt he wore revealed to you that his waist seemed pretty petit for his body.

You caught yourself staring at the man before you, so you quickly cleared your throat. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and you averted your eyes on your gloved hands.

You set the cup of coffee on the counter quickly and started removing your scarf and glove, feeling unbearably warm all of a sudden. "Hello, I am the 7pm appointment. My best friend couldn't make it due to a emergency at work, so it will be just me today. I hope that's still okay with you?" You asked with a slightly shaky voice.

The guy who until now watched you with a slight smile on his lips, leaned down to his computer and typed something on his keyboard. His eyes roamed over the screen and a few seconds later he gave you a quick glance. "It's alright, I hope the emergency isn't too bad. Do you want to schedule a new appointment on top? I won't charge it extra, seeing as you still came here today instead of cancelling last minute."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "I would love that, that is really kind of you Mr. Choi. Would next week at the same time work for you?" You asked with a smile on your lips as you removed your beanie and put it into your bag with the scarf and gloves.

He clicked on his computer a few times, his eyes glued to the screen. "It works perfectly for me, I'll set the appointment. And please call me San, we seem to be around the same age."

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, San. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." You said as your cautiously extended your hand towards him with a unsure smile on your lips.

Handshakes were mostly out of fashion, especially in winter and even more after the pandemic but you would feel rude to not greet another person that way. Especially someone as kind as him.

San eyed your hand for a second before his dimples reappeared and he laid his hand on yours for a firm handshake. You couldn't help but notice the two rings that adorned his fingers, one golden on his index finger, and a silver infinity looped ring on his middle finger. Odd combination you thought to yourself but didn't dare ask about it.

With anyone else you would say it's a fashion crime to mix gold and silver, but you felt like they had a special meaning and in all honesty you thought that little inconsistency fit with him.

If San noticed he didn't mention it, when he waved his hand towards the pasties to your left. "Can I offer you anything before we get started? A New coffee or maybe some Pastries?" He asked you with a kind smile and warm gaze.

You quickly shook your head. "No, thank you. I still have my coffee. But Thank you very much for the offer."

He nodded and gestured to the right where a big set of double milk glass doors was located. "Shall we?" He asked you with a smirk.

You once again felt your cheeks heat up, something about him made you jumpy but not in the creeped out way. No, he made you jumpy in a manner of your crush replied to your Text message where you ask him to date you kind of way.

You tried to calm your racing heart with a deep breath and focused on the flowers in the corner next to the double door, right beside these broad shoulders attractive shoulders of-

No. Don't go there- you curse yourself out as you follow San through the Glass doors avoiding his body with your hungry eyes as if your life depends on it.

You practically drool over your teacher for your pottery workshop right now, but could anyone actually blame you? San's proportions and looks should've been captured on old paintings cause he had the perfect proportions in any kind of way and form. You were sure artists would fight over him to be their muse, look wise as much as body wise.

You could blame your reaction on the fact that you didn't have a boyfriend or a date in years and your... well, last time feeling like this over a guy was even longer ago.

Feeling San's eyes on you, you slowly lifted your gaze from his shoulders to his eyes and felt exposed by the raw intensity of his stare.

With a smirk on his lips, he shook his head and turned left towards a little table that had a clay sack on top. He grabbed two blocks and placed them one after another on two of the workstations. "You can pick any seat you want."

You woke up from your trance and unholy thoughts about broad backs and muscular arms and set your bag next to the door on the black armchair before you picked the right seat and sat down eying the clay block with interest.

San grabbed two bowls from the side of the sink on the wall to your right and filled them both with water, before he set them next to your clay blocks on the work stations next to the rotation disk.

"Do you have knowledge in pottery?" He asked with his back on you, as he went towards his desk where a bunch of pottery goods sat which he carefully grabbed to place them in yet another showcase to fully dry unharmed.

You shook your head, even though you knew he couldn't see it right now. "I don't know anything about it, me and my best friend wanted to try it and make cute mugs for our reading weekends together."

He nodded, processing your words for a second or two before he turned to his left where a couple of aprons hung on the wall next to the burning oven.

You followed his movements as he picked 2 aprons one smaller and one bigger black one which you assumed was his personal one.

When he turned back around to make his way back to you he had a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Pottery isn't as difficult as most think it is, you might take a few tries but you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Once he was seated next to you, he handed you the smaller apron slowly. "Did you already think about what you want to create today?" He asked you with a curious expression on his features. His prominent cheekbones slightly rosy from the warmth of the studio.

You quickly searched your mind for possible things you could create and that were easy enough for a absolute beginner as you laid on your apron, but you only came up with a total basic idea. "How about a vase?" You asked as you remembered the beautiful vase you knocked off the dinner table the other day. It was the only vase you had since the many years you lived all alone.

San tilted his head to the side, his indexfinger with the golden ring tapping on his lip absentmindedly. "It's a good choice, easy but with a good purpose."

You nodded in agreement. San's eyes focused on the clay block in front of him before he shot you a quick glance. "I'm sure you already noticed the clay block in front of you, so what we want to do with it to begin, is to loosen it up. We archive that by kneading the clay like a you would with a fresh dough."

He took the clay in his hands and started kneading it and made sure you copy his moves before he spoke again. "We knead or wedge the clay to remove any possible bubbles inside, to make sure our work will be stable and won't break as easily after or during it's getting burned."

You nodded and quickly made a messy bun, already annoyed by the hairs that kept on blocking your view as you kept on kneading the small clay bock thoroughly.

Minutes ticked by with neither of you saying anything, the only sounds in the atelier were your breathings and the faint melody that flowed out of the ceiling speakers quietly.

Your arms were already getting sore and you felt a small droplet of sweat making it's way down your forehead. "How long are we supposed to knead it exactly?" You asked a little out of breath.

San's quiet laugh made you stop your work and look at him instead. He was still kneading the clay, your eyes focused on the strong muscles on his arms and how they moved under every movement he made.

He formed a small clump with it and set it on the middle of the rotating disk. "The longer, the better. It's tiring at the beginning but try to see it as a workout instead with a nice new pottery good as reward." He told you with a smile on his lips.

You shook out your arms, trying to ease some of the burning tension in your muscles and shaped your clay block almost the same. "Can I ask you something?" You asked San as your eyes darted through the artillier and you saw more framed photographies and art pieces on the walls, you even spotted a fallen angel stone figure in the far corner by the window which you didn't notice while entering the space earlier.

San turned in his twisting chair towards you and leaned his elbow on the workstation as he eyed you curiously. "Sure, ask all you want."

You turned towards him as well, glad to rest your arms a bit more as well as stilling your curiosity at the same time. You gestured towards the walls and the stone figure. "Are you interested in photography and art and stone sculpturing? I couldn't help but notice them right away." You said as you once again eyed everything in the room with adoration.

Seeing as you love art yourself you couldn't help yourself but standing up and inspecting it closer. It was like a invisible line pulled you towards the art he displayed and created. The color combinations and techniques the artist used drew you in, and the different vibes and auras each painting gave off seemed to tell a story you yet had to discover fully.

San who slowly walked up behind you, looked at the painting as well. You didn't see his face but could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

"The paintings and sculptures and even the pictures are all from my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and looked up at San's face with a dropped jaw. "These belong in big galleries and museums. They are masterpieces."

You saw a dimple form on his left cheek as he paced the room. You followed him, checking the art pieces with him with full attention. "Seonghwa is an artist, he draws everything that captures his interest, from people to objects, to abstract art. He wants to open a gallery in the future, but until then he asked if he could spotlight some paintings here. I loved the idea, it gives the studio flair and showcases his work at the same time."

When you guys reached another photography of what seemed to be a woman's back hugged by shadows and a industrial styled window front with San Francisco in the back, he stopped again as you took in the big framed photograph. "Wooyooung is a photographer, he always had a incredible eye for aesthetic and when he grabs his camera, you can be sure to see a masterpiece as result. He actually has his own gallery, but he gifted me some pieces as welcome present to my first own studio. He helped me a lot building this place."

Your eyes went even bigger as you continued listening to every word San said. He gestured to the angel stature and his smile got soft. "Yeosang is a Stone sculpturor, but if you ask me he should sculpture himself as well cause with his looks he doesn't stand the figures he creates behind in anything at all. I'm sure Michael Angelo would have taken him as student and muse if he would be alive still. His skills are impeccable, even if what he creates sometimes tends to be melancholic." He said as he grazed his hand softly over the broken wings of the crying angel.

You didn't take your eyes away from the stature, too much in awe about its raw beauty to look back at San. "Everything here is incredibly beautiful and has so much meaning behind it, this is breathtaking." You almost whispered as your finger softly touched the forever rolling tear of the angel.

You walked a bit further and carefully grazed your hand over one perfectly tailored mug, it resembled london as you quickly realized with the big ben in the background and a person that seemed to wait for something.

"What's your favorite style?" You asked him as you wondered if he drew the places on pottery that he visited or knew.

A soft smile appeared on your lips at a old memory of your trip there years back for your year abroad.

San sighed as he eyed the mug you softly cradled in your hand. "I don't think I have found my personal style yet, I'm relatively new with painting detailed pieces. I used to just glaze the pieces over in white. It's timeless and classic."

You nodded in agreement. "Does this one has a story? Looking at your work I would say you're a really talented painter as wellby the way."

San leaned against his desk in thought, thinking your words over in his mind as he looked around the office. "Isn't that what art of any kind is about? A purpose or a story that needs or should to be told? Like for example you chose a vase, is there a story behind it? Cause I could think there is one." He asked as he turned his attention on you with a raised brow and a twitch of his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, in my defense I really need a vase. Mine broke months back and since then I haven't been able to buy flowers anymore." You quickly blurted out.

San laughed quietly and opened his mouth to say something but you were faster. "Anyways, you don't need to talk about it when it's too personal. What I was trying to say was that your art is incredible. I'm glad I chose your studio to learn pottery." You followed up saying, trying to erase your embarrassment.

San's cheeks got a slight bit colored and you saw a hint of a dimple as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thank you, shall we continue?"

You nodded and strolled back towards your work station, happy that he didn’t further commented on your choice of work for today.

Once you were seated again, he wet his hands and got the round plate of the workstation spinning. You watched him closely and imitated his movements, your eyes glued to his strong hands as he softly worked on the clay and managed to get the clay to part to a hole on the middle.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to do the same on the first try. A happy laugh bubbled up inside you, as you eyed his next movements like a hawke.

"For the next step, you have press from both the inside and the outside against the clay to thin it out while you also pull it slightly upwards to shape it to your liking." He explained as he wet his hands in the bowl a bit more and slowly did what he explained.

He made sure to place his hands and arms in a way that you would be able to see it perfectly from your seat.

When he was done with that part, he turned off the workstation and turned towards you.

You could easily make out the bigger body and slimmer neck of the vase, when the spinning lessened you had to say it already looked damn near perfect.

Your eyes connected with his for a second, and you saw nothing but kindness and patience in his eyes as he waited for you to start.

With a deep breath, you turned on the workstation with the button on the side, and wet your hands in the bowl with warm water.

You felt San move a bit closer, but paid no attention to him as you set your hands both on the inside and outside of the cool clay.

You recalled his instructions from ealier and started carefully molding the clay. At first it was a bit difficult because even after all the kneading, the clay felt a bit dense.

But easily enough you saw it get thinner and wobblier. It started to seem to spin out of control, and San quickly rolled his chair behind you.

His hands smoothed over yours as he pushed away your foot from the pedal to take control over the spinning speed of the table.

His warm hands engulfed yours easily, as he lessened the pressure you put on the vase. You watched it regain its composure almost immediately.

You felt his warm breath tickle the side of your neck as he leaned his head forward, at your back you softly felt his chest against you.

Your heart started racing as you watched him guide your hands over the body of the vase in an attempt to save it and to even out the thickness of it, seeing as it was pretty uneven. "The first attempts are always a bit out of control, that's totally fine and normal. When you feel it getting out of hand, you have to lessen the speed of the rotation disk. Otherwise you risk the clay to smack into your face."

He explained as you felt his thigh muscles contort and bump against your leg when he showed you how the speed would affect the rotation disk.

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you got unbearably warm. Your mind only seemed to care about his close proximity and his incredibly good smelling perfume. Of how his hands felt around yours and the breath of him that tickled your neck with each breath he took.

You watched as the clay induced liquid rushed over and between your hands as he started forming the neckline of the vase together with you. You caught yourself slightly glancing over towards his face that almost rested on your shoulder and noticed a few lose strands hanging close to his eyes, it was a effort to not automatically reach out and swipe them away.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts, and averted your eyes back towards your forming Vase. He adjusted your fingers on the vase slightly and applied a bit of pressure to your grip before he spoke next. "When you use just about the right amount of pressure, it will turn out just how you want it. This is about the thickness it needs to ensure it's stable and won't break while burning." His voice was raspy and close to your which didn't help your current situation at all. You took a small breath as your legs pressed together Involuntarily.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to not betray you more than your body already did. He angled his arms a bit more to be able to guide you better and in the process his back was now flushed against your back and his arms were pressed against yours further which caused tiny goosebumps and a shiver through out your arms and the back of your neck.

You could swear you heard his breath hitch for a second but you wouldn't allow to let your mind travel to the possibility that he was reacting to you the same way as you reacted to him.

You watched as he guided your hands further up the neck to work on the top rim of the vase. He let go of your hands and dipped them into the bowl quickly and set his hands back on yours.

His head turned towards you slightly. "Do you like it like this? Or should we try out another Design?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as he accidentally grazed your ear while speaking, your back pressed against his chest slightly in response.

You quickly opened your eyes in mortification and quickly shot up from your seat, hitting yourself on the workstation hard enough to probably leave a bruise behind as you fumbled your way out from being wedged between San and the workstation.

You dipped your hands in the now tainted water and wiped your hands on the apron, before you removed your the cardigan and walked the few steps towards your bag to place it on top carefully.

You felt San's presence somewhere behind you vividly, which only worsened the throbbing inside of you. "I gotta use the restroom real quick." You all but blurted out as you quickly exited the room.

You had no clue where said toilet was but you needed distance before you would jump him.

"Second door on the right!" He called after you from where he stood as you barged through the door and almost ran into the restroom.

Once the door was locked, you rested your back against the cool wood and slid down to a crouch.

Deep breaths. In and out. Calm down. You can do this.

After collecting your thoughts for a second, you went up to the sink and splashed your face with ice cold water to get a grip.

Your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink tightly as you eyed yourself in the mirror. "Calm down and focus!" You told yourself with strict face before you patted your face dry and unlocked the door.

The temperature in the lobby felt significantly colder which you gladly welcomed as you walked up to the little table in the sitting area and poured yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

You took a deep gulp to get rid of your dry mouth as you peaked inside the studio again. You didn’t see him immediately, but you spotted his work station empty.

You stepped inside quietly, scanning the room quickly and spotted leaning against his desk in thoughts.

He wasn't turned towards you, instead he seemed to watch the vase, his vase, do it's thing in the fire oven.

You creeped a bit closer towards him, gripping your water in a death grip as your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. Once you caught up to him and only a few steps separated you, you cleared your throat to announce your presence without startling him.

His head snapped in your direction and he straightened, before you saw him made a step towards you. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes seemed to hold that same barely contained restraining that you were sure would be mirrored on your own eyes as well. "I'm sorry if I acted unprofessionally towards you, I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned away from you and your had to strain your ears to hear his next words. "That's what I should say, right? Even if I don't mean it." He raked his hands through his hair frustratedly.

Your stomach tightened as you registered his words and saw his exquisite back muscles flex with his movement.

You made a step towards him, as you felt your need coursing through your body violently. That much for calming down.

You set the glass of water down on his desk, as he turned back towards you quickly. His gaze was wild and pure of need as he fixated your full lips and then your eyes. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry. Since you walked in, I can't think fucking straight. I should be professional, I know that, but all I can think about since you stepped into my studio are all the different ways I could fuck you senseless inside of this god damn place. I just want to-"

You didn't let him finish as you closed the distance between you in light speed and crashed your lips against his.

He caught you around your waist reflexively as he tensed up for a second, but then his restrain snapped as grabbed you by your neck and janked you flush against his chest.

A small moan left your lips when your hips connected with his and you felt him hard against your stomach.

You felt his tongue graze over your teeth, asking you for entrance and without thinking twice you let him in. Your tongues started a instant battle for dominance, as you moved your hands through his silken hair and tugged slightly.

You could feel him smirk against your lips as he pushed you back until your ass connected with the desk.

His hands wandered down your sides, setting every inch of clothed skin on fire until he reached your thighs, he gave you a little nudge and you jumped enough to up wrap your legs around his waist thightly.

His hips pushed you onto the table hard and another moan left you at the sensation. His mouth started traveling from your lips onto your neck where his tongue drew lazy circles over your sensitive spot. You felt the fabric of his shirt wrinkle under your tightly fisted hands on his chest as you moaned his name.

One of his hands rested flatly on the desk while his other sneaked over your shoulder in a feather light touch and pulled your straps down, fully in contrast to his wicked tongue. "Please." You bagged as you tugging on his shirt.

He sucked sharply on your neck in response, as your head fell back from the sensation. "Please, what sweetheart? Use your words."

Your back arched as he kissed his way further down your neck. He softly pushed down your tanktop until it pooled at your hips as he clasped open your Bra with his other hand. Out of the corner from your eye you saw your Bra flying to a random corner. "P-please touch me." You begged again as your hand went back to his hair and fisted it?

His indexfinger travelled from your bare right shoulder down onto your hard nipple, where he gave you a slight pinch. "That's what I'm doing right now, no?"

Before you could respond his mouth cupped your other boob and his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

You pulled on his shirt frantically, desperate to feel his skin under your finger tips. As a whine left your lips, the feeling already overwhelming but at the same time not enough. He released your boob with a pop. "So responsive." He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head to give you a perfect view of his incredible physic.

You let your hand wander over his soft and muscular skin. A growl left his lips as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his lips crashing on yours in a devouring kiss again.

He unbuttoned your jeans in a swift move and linked his thumbs in the fabric of your jeans as he janked town both your pants and underwear down in one move.

His indexfinger with the golden ring travelled up your bare tigh before it disappeared between your legs where he raked a finger through your soaking folds. Your head fell back in bliss. "Gods"

San eyed your expressions like a hawk, as he cupped you and dipped a two fingers inside of you. Your walls tightened against him as he started pumping inside of you. Your hand gripped his biceps forcefully as your hips rocked against his fingers, taking everything you would get.

Endless moans echoed through the studio as he crashed his lips back on yours. He slightly bit your bottom lip as he curled his fingers inside of you which made you scream out his name.

You could feel your release rapidly build inside of you. "Please.... I'm..." You managed to say, but it was all to overwhelming.

San shook his head with a smirk as he removed his fingers from inside of you. "You're finished when I let you. And I'm dying for a taste." He all but purred before he settled between your legs and looked up at you directly.

It took all your left restrained to not come at that sight directly, and he seemed to notice it, because he grabbed your knees and spread you apart further before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

His smile was deadly as he eyed your bareness before him and dived in light speed.

His tongue laid flat against you as he swiped up your center, your head rolled back as a loud moan left your lips.

San's hands flexed around your thighs as he pulled you closer to wards him. He backed up enough to look back at you. "I want you to look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes found him reflexively as he dived back in and dipped his tongue inside of you. A rumbling moan left his lips as he started devouring you like a starved man.

While your hips ground against his face shamelessly and greedily. You felt your climax build up in light speed as your legs started trembling. He sucked in your bundle of nerves once twice and your hands gripped his fair painfully. "Come." He ordered and thats all it took as you screamed his name and started seeing stars.

Your release washed over you in intense waves as he picked up every drop of you greedily. You were still shaking uncontrollably as he got up and pulled you flush against his bare chest. His lips found yours and you could taste yourself on him as he spinned you around and bend you down on the desk.

You heard him shuffle and open a condom behind you as your head laid on the side, eying the crying angel stature.

His hand trailed up your spine sensually as he wedged his bare leg between yours and spread your legs apart. You felt his chest against your back, and your ass instinctively pushed back against him.

You felt him twitch against your entrance, as his mouth nipped on your ear before he gave you another soft kiss on your neck.

Without another warning he gripped your hair in his hand and janked your head back as he slammed into you fully. A scream left your lips at the feel of him inside you.

San's voice sounded taut as he pounded into you with enough force to make the whole table move. "Fuck, you're tight."

You slammed your ass back against his hips in desperation as he pulled out of you almost fully and slammed back into you. "You're perfect." He groud out betwen his teeth before his lips found your shouder where he gave you a small kiss.

The glass you set on the table ealier, spilled more and more water on the table but you couldn't give less of a fuck as it just like you for the second time in a row edged closer to destruction.

His lips slammed back on yours as he picked up speed, a trail of moans left both your lips as he pounded in you mercilessly. The scandalous sound of smaking skin, moaning and harsh breathing almost overshadowed the scraping of the table as it moved further and further towards the wall opposite of you.

His movements grew slowly erratic, indicating you that he too was close. As his other hand wandered between your legs where his index finger drew lazy circles around your bud.

You screamed his name as you started shaking and saw blinding white light and stars. His other hand drew soothing circles against your back, much in contrast to his harsh thrusts that had his balls slamming against you with force repeatedly and said. "Let go."

Your back arched and your ass slammed back against him with force as your hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard it was starting to hurt as another scream raked through your body and shattered you into sweet oblivion.

San cursed under his breath as you felt him twitch hard inside your spasming walls. He thrust in you a few more more times, before he too came apart inside of you with a curse of your name on his lips as he rode out both your highs.

Once your both caught your breath a bit he pulled out of you slowly but continued drawing soothing circles on your back. "You know, I've been dreaming of seeing you again from the moment I saw you that day by the namsan tower years back."

Your eyes snapped open in shock, that day you saw him, you realized now. Across the crowd you noticed him and his friends and already back then your breath caught in your lungs.

You've been staring at one another for few seconds when he made a step towards you, waving some of of the peddles from his view.

You were just about to make a step towards them too before your best friend pulled you with her towards the boarding bus.

It followed you for a while on vacation, but you eventually forgot about him. Hell, you didn't even trust yourself that you didn't make the whole thing up back then seeing as your best friend didn't see them at all and said you're crazy.

His Hand massaged the back of your neck under your hair softly. "You asked about the mug earlier, I made it as first art piece once I arrived back home. I was searching for you everywhere that day after you left with your friend, but I couldn't find you."

You set back up on the table as he went up to the sink to wet up a clean cloth, you didn't notice it before but you saw now that he was wearing his underwear again and a loose white shirt.

You pulled up your tanktop again but were still in shock about his recent words. "It's been you? I wasn't sure if I didn't make you up in my mind. My best friend didn't see you guys and said I'm delusional." You laughed to yourself as you already looked forward to clowning her about the whole thing.

After he carefully cleaned you up, he sat you back down on your feet and you quickly pulled up your pants as he did the same.

"Wooyoung never really stopped looking for your friend either by the way. He said she would be his perfect muse." He said with a smirk that highted his dimples even more.

A soft laugh escaped you as a thought formed in your mind. "You just gave me an idea for her next single workshop." San mirrored your knowing smirk as he laced your hand with his and led you towards the work station and your almost finished vase.

He turned towards you with a shy smile. "It might be a bit out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me? I would love to see where our story goes."

You gave him a big smile in return and nodded your head. "I would actually love that."

He took a seat on his spinning chair and pulled you onto his lap before he gave you a kiss on your temple and turned he workstation back on before wet his hands. "Let's start with finishing up your work first."

--

A/n: I tried to proofread this FF as best as I could, but English isn't my first language, and I'm dyslexic so I apologize for the eventual mistakes. I hope you liked this ff.

Little Bonus: I found this while looking for inspos for the thumbnail pic. ♡

[tseecka]

It's also one of the absolute best ways to find MORE fic that will scratch whatever itch brought you to that author in the first place. Because if you click on an author (using one of my faves to demonstrate),

To go to their page,

You can click on this link here,

To find OTHER WORKS THAT AUTHOR ENJOYED READING.

I'm so fucking serious: this is like a Wikipedia rabbit hole but for fanfiction. Many of my absolute favourite fics or writers are ones I discovered by investigating what my current faves are reading and liking well enough to bookmark.

This isn't foolproof obviously. Not everyone uses bookmarks, many people make their bookmarks privately, but if you're stymied by the absolute glut of fic in your favourite tags and want to find something new to read, it's such an amazing place to start. Consider:

If you're finicky about writing style or quality, odds are your favorite fic writer is bookmarking works that jive with their own sensibilities.

You like how they write particular dynamics or tropes or kinks? They probably have their own favorites in those categories. Same goes for motifs or themes.

You want to know what other fandoms might be inspiring them, where you might find content you enjoy as well? Explore what fandoms they are reading fic for, and maybe discover something new! (Case in point; I first learned about Victoria Goddard's books specifically from exploring what @ariaste was reading, and now I LOVE THEM.)

Some tags for fandoms or pairings have tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of fics. Relying only on kudos or bookmark counts to sort through them all isn't a guaranteed way of finding your next fave fic, but washing through years or even decades of stories isn't necessarily feasible. This can also be a fantastic way to uncover hidden or forgotten gems and show older fics some love. You wanna know how you get authors gushing with excitement about someone commenting on their fic from 2007 that they thought had been entirely subsumed by the influx of reboot fans? You follow the rabbit hole!

It's not creepy. It's not stalking. It's not even weird. Users can make their bookmarks private if they choose to, or just bookmark through other means. Looking through what your faves loved enough to save for later is such a great way to replicate the old Internet communities of webrings and message boards, of making recommendations to one another.

And then, don't forget to make your own bookmarks--because you can also go down these rabbit holes by taking a look at who bookmarked that fic you love so much, and seeing what else THEY'VE liked enough to save; and people can do the same with you.

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[scintillyyy]

Hi. I love every second of your blog going "Fuck Chuck Dixon. All my homies hate Chuck Dixon." concurrent with "Dixon could often be remarkably competent as a writer with legit interesting ideas." Please never stop writing metas.

listennnnnn i hate dixon he's awful. he's also written stuff i really enjoy despite the many glaring faults.

the thing with dixon that i'm always trying to suss out tho. like, i think because current day dixon has been radicalized in a truly awful and horrendous way, there's a lot of desire to place his current day radical beliefs onto every aspect of his past works and blame everything on him and him alone as this one terrible writer who ruined all characters for ever and ever just because he's a conservative. but like. i think that because he's an awful person it's easy to place blame on him retroactively for some things that weren't necessarily solely a product of his conservatism or his fault alone.

and mmm. i never ever deny the conservatism present in his works. it's present in his robin book with tim, it's present in his nightwing book with dick, and it's present in his batman books with bruce. but people sometimes act as if he was working in a batoffice that had the current day issues it does where writers are given a carte blance to do whatever they want with all characters with little regards to continuity or character growth. that did not happen during his tim under denny in the 90s--denny o'neil was known for running a fairly tight ship (i can't find the interview but there's an interesting retrospective interview he does wrt jason where he talks about his failures as an editor and how he was too hands off and not firm enough allowing writers to do what they pleased which led him to become a much stricter and firm editor following jason's death because he learned from the experience). dixon in that interview i posted made it clear that o'neil wouldn't even let dixon touch the joker until dixon had demonstrated to o'neil he had a grasp on the character that o'neil approved of. dixon would not have been allowed to do whatever he wanted with characters like robin/tim. without o'neil putting a stop to it if he had gone too far. and for the record, o'neil was a big old bleeding heart liberal that, at the time at least, dixon is noted to have gotten along with very well despite their political opinion differences even at that time. dixon says he was an avid read of grant's work on batman. he's awful now, but at one point he was probably younger and a bit more willing to entertain ideas that weren't his own too.

so when i look back on his work as a historical work, i'm always trying to tease out the following - is this representive of dixon's brand of conservative views in particular or is it representative of a different, overall more conservative time era. and there's a lot of things that fall under the second umbrella that get attributed to the first tbh. listen i love no man's land and understand that despite my love it is full of copaganda and downright conservative ideals by today's standards. but NML wasn't written solely by dixon to push a uniquely conservative pro-cop view--o'neil approved of the story and was the editor of the office at the time. rucka was a huge player in helping tell this super pro-cop story (he even wrote the novelization!!) and nobody ever really puts blame on him for these things the way they do dixon afaik. NML being written in a 'democrats trying to be tough on crime' era absolutely means it's not solely the fault of dixon and his evil conservatism, but he often gets the flack as if it were despite the fact that he was getting these stories okayed by people on different ends of the political spectrum than him + these stories were not his evil conservative brainchild alone.

so these are the things i'm thinking when i read through his works. and maybe that gives me a rosier view than it should, but a lot of my thoughts come from "what can reasonably actually be attributed to showcasing what dixon's views actually are" vs "what might actually not be his fault and his fault alone".

and when i say that tim generally isn't the one who showcases his personal views, i'm not trying to minimize the fact that there is inherent conservatism baked in to his character along with everyone else written by dixon, i'm saying that we need to be realistic and realize that dixon did not have as much freedom to do with tim what he had freedom to do with tim's side characters. tim, after all, had to ultimately fit in o'neil's batbible framework of what he was supposed to be because tim was ultimately an IP character who was part of a batman and robin mythos that o'neil was very, very protective of in the 90s given his previous failures to maintain control of the ship. so when you consider dixon's particular conservatism in tim's books you need to consider that the vast majority of it came from the characters surrounding tim (such as his dad, dana, steph, etc) because dixon had more freedom with those sorts of characters, rather than tim himself who often doesn't have any particular opionion of his own--he's just reacting to all the different opinions being presented to him. and that's not to say that those character should be evil conservatives forever and ever--in fact, i personally think they shouldn't. but take the racist and classist inner city kids are bringing guns to school storyline in robin #25-26. as a whole it's a conservative story. o'neil allowed dixon to do the story in the first place when he could have said no. in the story tim wanders around not knowing what to do about karl bringing a gun to school--which is why he has to go to his dad and dana, who represent "go to the cops/don't be a narc options"--his dad is the one who tries to talk to karl's dad--karl is the conservative one who thinks that they need to protect themselves from inner city kids compared to tim who thinks that guns shouldn't be in school. but tim also thinks that they shouldn't go to the cops and wants his dad to handle it by himself, but eventually comes to the realization that he should have gone to school administration to begin with. in these issues, steph is also the one who dixon uses to link karl's shooting to the inner city kids who are getting bused in to the suburban schools--we talk about that panel of steph declaring herself the protector of the suburbs, but also that panel in context is within the confines of the story--steph is essentially saying "maybe the suburbs need a spoiler (to protect themselves from the inner city people coming to bring crime out to them)" which absolutely is a conservative dixonism that you can pinpoint to his particular kind politics in comparison to the milquetoast of tim's "i don't know what to do/talk to a trusted adult to get help before tragedy happens PSA/overall conservativeness" that happens. that the story itself that exists in tim's book is conservative, yes, and i won't deny that tim also has a few conservative dialogue here but to me the difference is that o'neil would not let dixon use tim drake to go on any overtly political rants or represent any specific ideology *himself* that could make him controversial with readers of the time given how protective o'neil was of not repeating his previous mistakes. you're generally going to find the more egregious dixonisms outside of tim. like "robin 1993 is a conservative book that has a pro-life storyline" (true) =/= "tim goes on an anti-abortion rant" (not true, literally never happened). tim shares blame because ultimately it is his book that presents a conservative worldview but tim as a character tends to exist as a more moderate (not completely, but more) character to have other characters present options and opinions to him rather than he himself saying he has those opinions. robin cannot take sides like that. o'neil wouldn't have let that happen.

and like. when discussing dixon my goal is never to completely absolve tim of dixon's writing. i just don't often see a need to completely rehash the tim-conservatism points because it's been discussed already over and over again to the point there's a pretty widespread misconception that tim is the ultimate dixon conservative mouthpiece who is solely at fault for all of robin 93's conservatism when actually there's a lot of other interesting places dixon's conservatism presents that are almost never discussed in comparison. my goal is not to be "tim's not at fault" or anything but it is to seriously consider and think about where i see dixon's personal opinions shining through more overtly based on what i know of the conservative mindset (as much as i don't agree with it). dissecting dixon and how he writes in consideration of his beliefs is fascinating and fun to me.

anyways he's awful.

[dootznbootz]

I don’t have a link but I saw a post along the lines of “EPIC fans trying to gaslight themselves into thinking Odysseus wouldn’t cheat (he does in the books)” and I nearly had a conniption.

Some people WERE arguing he was assaulted, but other people were saying it depends on the interpretation and saying he has a child with Circe and that he stays on the island with her for a year. I also saw someone say he was just lying about being assaulted on another post about it.

The Odyssey/EPIC fandom is so exhausting I’ve thought about blocking everything sometimes ngl. It’s so hard to filter out posts like that. But there’s so much amazing art and content about it I don’t want to stop seeing it.

No, like that's the struggle of it.

I Love Epic and I technically got into the Odyssey BECAUSE of Epic. But I'm a hardcore Odyssey girly. I adore it so much. I've read 8 translations at this point because I love it so much and it's fun for me! And Epic is in no way a replacement for the Odyssey (Jay even says that it's not! he's simply inspired by the Odyssey) and it feels like high quality fanfiction of the Odyssey (FUN! JOYOUS WHIMSY! I still like it! :3 ).

But holy shit, like, both Epic AND Tagamemnon fans can be so fucking exhausting. (I am a fan of both. I can say this.)

(Obviously I'm not talking about everyone. <3 I've made many friends and have met lovely people in both fandoms.)

Like while yes, Epic!Odysseus isn't coerced/raped by either of the goddesses, that's simply because of the fact that Jay simply felt like he wasn't well equipped to handle such dark topics to that extent. And I honestly respect him for that! He knows his limits with the story he wanted to tell and that's good! And in general I think he did a fantastic job handling the aspects of it he did touch on (Coercion with Circe's threatening in "There Are Other Ways" is done well imo.)

(ngl, I kind of take back what I said about "Not Sorry for Loving You". I think a lot of my reaction was initially from my fear of how fandom would react. But I've been delightfully surprised seeing how (for the most part) Epic Fandom has really come through to show the "fucked up-ness" of that song)

THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT ODYSSEUS IN THE ODYSSEY IS A SHITTIER HUSBAND BECAUSE HE, IN THE ANCIENT TEXT, CANNOT SAY NO TO A GODDESS.

Greek Mythology isn't like Percy Jackson where 12 year old Percy beat Ares. (I was a PJO KID TOO!) It's not "Odysseus didn't try hard enough" fucking victim blaming btw because HE LITERALLY CANNOT REFUSE OR THEN HE'LL (AND HIS FRIENDS IN THE CASE OF CIRCE) WOULD DIE!!!

Like I wrote a whole ass essay on Circe's Situation (I feel so preachy and shitty about having to constantly bring it up but I will as much as I have to to get people to listennnn) and in general, if you can't see what's happening with Calypso, you've got your head up your ass and/or are just looking away because you don't like the actual implications of what's happening. For the main "gripe" I've seen with Calypso with how "He enjoyed her company at first", @lyculuscaelus has a great essay breaking that down.

And before? ODYSSEUS HAS NO LISTED CONCUBINES! And he brings up Penelope often in the Iliad!

And the whole "lying about being assaulted", I'm sorry but if someone is holding the "Men were so sexist that they couldn't possibly care about the women in their lives or have been victims" idea, then why would Odysseus willfully share that he was raped by women? Who, as they say, were viewed beneath him? Why would he lie about something that would put him in such a humiliating light?

Btw, Menelaus (sealy boy!!!) even says that he's being held captive by Calypso with what he learned from Proteus! Menelaus isn't known for telling stories!

I feel bad as like, I used to LOVE going into the tags and finding creators I haven't seen before and cheering them on! Art and Fics and yay! But like... It's sometimes so disheartening going in there and seeing nonsense or bad takes ;~;

Honestly, as much as I DO enjoy Epic, I think that hopefully once the hype dies down a lil, it'll chill out more :') We'll all be okay!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @gayjinkies! gayjinkies has 7 fics posted on AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @Gayjinkies:

I’m a lover, boy

lover, you can’t be wrong

heartbeat (increasing heartbeat)

any solitary pleasure

Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs?

"Their writing is absolutely masterpiece. I LOVE their characterisation of Steddie!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @gayjinkies answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I started reading Steddie during a really weird and stressful time in my life. I’d be reading literally the entire night through for months on end. Reading about these dumbass boys was one of the only ways to escape for a while. When my day-to-day chilled out a bit, I figured I may as well give writing a go, since I’d read, I swear to god, hundreds of fics by that point. I immediately fell in love with thinking up the most idiotic, goofy situations to plop Steve and Eddie into. I’m also a sucker for enemies-to-lovers dialogue and the possibilities are endless with these two. There’s so much potential chemistry and tension and canonically unexplored backstories which makes it so much fun to write!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I don’t think I have an all-time favourite! One of my favourites is friends-to-enemies-to-lovers because ohhh the layers…the betrayal…the yearning… I also love reading hidden identity fics, I eat them up so damn quick. And then the usual suspects: forced proximity, miscommunication, requited-unrequited, fake dating, only one bed. Honestly I could list so many that I love with my entire heart.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I’m not sure if Crack counts as a trope?? If so, then that for sure. The more absurd the better, in my book. I love taking the most ridiculous situation I can think of and trying to write it believably enough that readers could think, “huh, yeah, I can see this happening. This makes sense for these two.” Apart from that, I love writing miscommunication. It’s so much FUN, and as I’m typing it I’ll be shaking my head, clicking my tongue, muttering, “if only you guys just talked…” and then not allowing them to properly talk for another 10k words.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such an impossible question, there’s no way I could pick just one out of so many absolute bangers 🤚 blipblot’s A Lick and a Promise is phenomenal and I’ll shout it from the rooftops (I’ll shout about literally all of their fics from the rooftops, they’re just so spectacular) I’m reading Big Talk by occasional_loverboy which is SO FUCKING GOOD. let’s exchange the experience by jamiethegardener is an absolute favourite. Vulture by GriefAbyss is currently and very actively consuming my thoughts. throw me one by Adure is one of the first Steddie fics I fell in love with right at the start and it’s one of my all-time favourites.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Ohhhhh so many. I would love to write a secret identity fic and a fake dating fic, and I’ve got ideas bouncing around my head for both of those. They’ll get written eventually!! I also haven’t really written slow burn yet because I love instant gratification with ensuing angst and drama, but I would love to try my hand at it!

What is your writing process like?

Controversial, maybe! I can’t write any scene without having written the scene before, everything is written sequentially. I don’t plan or draft at all, so scenes just develop as I’m writing, which makes it impossible to jump ahead in the plot and write because the story changes every time I sit down to write more. It also means that if I get stuck on one particular scene, the entire fic grinds to a screeching halt until I figure a single line of dialogue out 🫠 So it’s slow going a lot of the time! I also don’t really edit apart from checking my spelling and grammar, so not much is left on the cutting room floor! Also, I only write while blasting pink noise through my headphones. I sometimes have music playing in the same room but the pink noise stays on the entire time. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’m not sure!!! Probably using way too many em dashes, which I say hesitantly for fear of people reading my shit and noticing my overuse 😬 I also recycle specific phrases all the time, which are usually ones that I use in my day-to-day as well. They just seem to snake their way into each and every fic.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’ve discovered that I really do need to have finished writing before starting to post, otherwise there’s a chance it won’t be updated for months as my focus jumps to other projects.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I’m really proud of set my wings on fire. It was my quickest turnaround time from idea conception to finished product, and it’s also the only fic I’ve written that’s just one scene. I also experimented more with structure and writing style with that one. It’s the most love I’ve ever put into a fic and the most fun I’ve had writing so it’s very special to me.

How did you get the idea for any solitary pleasure?

Ahhh, my stink kink fic. Not to put my friend on blast, but they were chatting with me about a guy they’d hooked up with who had a cologne collection totalling over $10,000. When I asked my friend if the guy smelled good, they replied that they didn’t really know, they prefer natural musk and sweat over fancy colognes. I heard that, immediately thought, “sounds like a certain someone…” and knew I had to thrust a scent kink upon Eddie.

When writing heartbeat (increasing heartbeat), what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect how difficult it would be to orchestrate a phone sex scene! I think dirty talk is one of my weaker areas in writing, so not being able to fall back on action descriptions when it came to Steve and Eddie’s interactions was hard. I’m a big fan of non-verbal communication and not having that as an option was definitely challenging.

What inspired I’m a lover, boy?

I don’t think there was any particular inspiration! The plot for I’m a lover, boy literally popped into my head fully formed one day, and I spent a bit of time just kicking it around before writing it all down.

What was your favorite part to write from lover, you can’t be wrong?

I love writing Steve & Robin scenes, and lover, you can’t be wrong is riddled with them. I’d never written anything from Steve’s POV before and exploring their friendship has been so lovely. Their conversations flow and I love that for both them and me.

How do/did you feel writing Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs??

Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs was the first Steddie fic I wrote, after having not written creatively for years. It was written after a solid few months of sleep-deprivation and stress and I don’t really remember much about how I felt while writing it! I think for a while I was very sure I was never going to post it, so I didn’t care about whether it was actually quality writing or not, which was freeing!! It was a good stepping stone to getting back into writing because it was a zero-pressure experience.

What was the most difficult part of writing Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs??

Probably literally just starting it!! I hadn’t written creatively since high school, and I hadn’t really been good at it then, so I was 100% convinced I wouldn’t be able to do it. Most of my experience is in writing research studies, so it was hard to push past that and embrace flowery, fun fiction writing.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In my most recent fic, call my bluff when I roll the dice, there’s a scene where Eddie accidentally humiliates Steve regarding the size of his dick, and I had SO much fun writing it. The entire fic was built around that scene that I’d had in my head for ages. I love writing emotionally-driven dialogue and also Very Silly dialogue, so that was such a fun one to write.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a bunch of WIPs and even more ideas that haven’t been put on paper yet! I’ve got a long-form fic half written that I’m very excited about which I refuse to start posting until I’ve finished it, but it’s in the works! I’ve also got a third of a gloryhole fic written which I’m also keen to finish and post. Apart from them, I’ve got a bunch of crack ideas that I’m very sure will be posted in the near future!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I wanted to thank steddieunderdogfics for everything that you do 💖 big love to you guys!!!

Thank you to our author, @gayjinkies, and our nominator! See more of gayjinkies' works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[this-machine-runs-on-coffee]

1. Probably my clocks, I love them even tho they aren't working rn (one's batteries are dead and the other has to be charged through winding up a thing. I want to take that last one apart and put it back together to learn how it's made)

2. Embarrassing but Freeze Your Brain

3. Passing ones but recently got failing ones. I'm very unfit.

4. My longest streak on an app is probably WhatsApp because I log onto it every day but I don't really use apps that count streaks. I once used Duolingo for a week (three days...) intensely, got bored of it and barely got through another month with minimal xp. I got a shit ton of xp in those few days. I'm not very proud of it.

5. Some of Rick Riordan's I have never read

6. Hades and Artemis

7. Wolf cut of the ones I've had. Idk about other haircuts' names tho, because it they weren't the ones I've had then idk.

8. Cola! Very fizzy sour ones. I love sour things

9. So many books I haven't read yet. It's been two years or more

10. Kinda. I like a lot of food but I will not eat anything other than the food I know I like unless I can back out or know the food I'll be eating but have never eaten has ingredients I like

Thank you so much for tagging me!

Do you like fruit?

What's your favorite food?

What's your favorite book/movie/musical?

Do you have a favorite kind of object? (Clocks for me. I love them. I don't know a lot about them but they are so cool)

Do you like warm or cold lights best?

What's your favourite character from your favourite book/movie/musical?

Have you ever used Duolingo? If yes, what's the highest amount of xp you've gotten in a short time? (I read what you said, @a-fucking-tornado, also consider yourself tagged if you want to answer any of these questions!)

Favorite candy or snack?

Do you prefer the beach or the mountains? Something else if you've never been to either

What's your favorite color?

Open tags!

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

So I'm gonna try and do @batmanisagatewaydrug's book bingo this year and hopefully not give up before getting bingo somehow.

For fantasy, I read The Gilded Crown by Marianne Gordon.

And I fucking loved every second of it. For a debut novel, it's amazing. It's definitely the best debut novel I've ever read; I struggle to come up with any flaws of it really.

Also I tandem read this with the audiobook which was narrated by Kristin Atherton and that's also one of the best narrations I've heard.

The book itself about a woman called Hellevir who is able to enter Death and trade with Death to bring people back to life. She gets herself entangled with the royal family, the De Neïds, when she brings back the Princess Sullivain after she is assassinated, and soon she gets trapped under their thumb, forced to bring Sullivain back again if she dies again. She also begins to fall in love with Sullivain.

That's like the main plotline in the book, but there are others weaving throughout like the presence of the Onaistian Faith in Rochidain - the capital city - versus the old ways that Hellevir follows as well as Hellevir's relationship with her Ma, Pa and brother Farvor, the search for the assassin, and Hellevir's tradings with Death.

Her tradings with Death were my favourite part of the book by far, everything about Death as a realm and as a person was so well written and so intriguing and fit so well with the worldbuilding outside of Death. Death himself was also so intriguing and I'm desperate to know more so I'm really excited for the sequel and thank god it comes out this year.

Her relationship with her Ma was a close second though. Without getting into spoiler territory, it was a very meaty relationship with a lot to chew on but was also very tender. It made me cry at one point.

Also when I decided to do this book bingo I was like, I'm gonna add my favourite quote at the end and I'm struggling to pick because I have so many favourite quotes. So I've limited it to 5:

"Leaning against a tree was a man of black. His hair was black, his coat was black, his gloves were black. An absolute black, as if no light could reflect from it. It drew her gaze and held it, threatened to pull her in and drown her in its absence of light. His eyes were the blackest of all and watched her with amusement."

"‘Now give the skeleton of your boasts the meat of your actions.’"

"‘Did you know Death has pockets?’ Hellevir asked quietly. Milandre raised her eyebrows, tilting herself slightly, as she always did, so that her good ear could catch what the missing ear couldn’t.

‘Death has pockets?’ she repeated.

‘Yes. He has pockets. Why would Death need pockets?’"

"‘The city is a carcass crawling with creatures that want nothing more than to consume her, and plucking out one will not stop the decay.’"

"‘But that was long ago.’

‘The zealotry tastes the same.’"

[huginsmemory]

Said with love of course. Companion post to this.

[fluideli123]

Sonadow Fic Rec

Okay, before you jump down to the masterpieces listed below, I just wanted to state this:

These authors have given this phenomenal content for free, baked with time and effort. I have never once ignored this, hence why I try and comment on each and every one of these fics. However, my energy and ability to be verbose differs day to day. Some of these fics I have not given proper comments for, despite this, I will be on it the moment I can be. In the time being, (once I am able to find my comments on each of these fics) I will be sharing my adoration for them further in other posts (and most likely link back to this one).

With that being said, please, PLEASE take your time to check each of these fics out. If they're not your cup of tea? Valid! But hands down I have never dedicated myself to making a fic rec like this until now. But I MUST share and spread these works, they are much too dear to me not to, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

(All fics are listed by order saved in my bookmarks, not in the order read)

tangled threads and bite-marked shoulders by @rubyiiiusions

Words: 32,287 | Series | Complete

Shadow hissed in pain. The laser had just grazed him, but it still stung, and he instinctively gripped the wound it left on his arm. “You dare-” He stopped. The laser hadn’t hit him. In fact, it had struck Sonic, right on his lower left arm. So why did his forearm feel like it just got shot? He whipped around, fear climbing up his throat, and he suddenly became hyper-aware of something new. It was like a sixth sense, feeling the confusion that emitted from Sonic’s fur in waves as if it was his own. “What did you do?!” Shadow snarled. or, eggman accidentally soulbinds shadow and sonic, and no one has any idea how to undo it.

Sleepwalking by Tirainy

Words: 22,117 | Complete

'There is a strong arm curled around his torso, the appendage keeping him close to its owner, whose warm breath is ghosting over the back of his neck. Sonic is sure he went to bed alone the previous night, but he isn't worried about the intruder. After all, this isn't the first time this has happened…'

Secret Admirer by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 24,313 | Complete

Sonic understood well what it meant to be loved. He was a world-famous hero, after all; his presence never went unnoticed. For the most part, he lavished in that attention, he soaked it in and encouraged it. But not romantic attention. So, when the blue blur found himself falling in love? Well, the prospect was rather daunting, no matter how easy Amy had made it out to be. So maybe, just maybe, he should just take the easy way out...

Rose Drops Series by @magicstormfrostfire

Words: 122,489 | Series | Complete

Love, Intuition, and a little bit of magic ensues as Amy sends Sonic and Shadow on an unforgettable adventure.

Wolfboy by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 73,856 | Complete

World-famous monster hunter Shadow the Hedgehog has a job to do. It doesn't take long for the one-shot wonder to realize that this job won't be as simple as he'd expected: a small town, rumors of a lone werewolf, and a handsome, green-eyed, chronically-injured casanova who manages to worm his way into Shadow's heart... What starts off as a simple job turns out to be something much more life-changing.

Blizzard Bedfellows by @magicstormfrostfire

Words: 21,294 | Complete

When a rare blizzard takes over the island, Sonic is on the run to make sure a certain angry loner is safe and sound. Y-you know, because...uh that's what heroes do.

We never met but can we have a cup of coffee or something? by @whitejungle

Words: 3,630 | Complete

It's been almost two months since Sonic lost someone he didn't even know, but he can't stop thinking about it.

Clean Slate by nottheweirdest

Words: 155,880 | Complete | Note: Squeal pending and I am cheering you on author!! Whatever you decide I am excited to support you!!

Shadow has lost himself before. He knows what it's like to straddle the line between reality and false memories, but this time, it’s Sonic whose memory has vanished. A premeditated set of circumstances and an accidental injury leave Sonic with no memory of who he is, his life, or more importantly, his painful history with Shadow. It’s up to Shadow to remind the hero who he is in the midst of a global outbreak. It’s a chance for redemption. It’s a chance to right the wrongs of the past. It’s a clean slate.

say i reckon (i love you, for a millisecond) by @redamancering

Words: 30,205 | Complete

There’s a hand on his shoulder, barely making contact. A red gauntlet glows around the wrist. Sonic blinks, the pain having evaporated so fast he feels almost weightless. “Shadow?” Shadow’s breathing heavily. “Problem.” The retrieval of the ancient tech Shadow (and Sonic, in tow) has been sent to uncover takes a turn for the worst. In this case, the “worst” means… becoming physically and inextricably linked to each other. For the foreseeable future. OR: Metaphysical handcuffs, and general gay buffoonery.

Judge my sins, not my feelings by yellothebeeloved

Words: 228,479 | Complete | Note: Possible one-shots pending from the author for the series, I am here to support you author!! What ever you decide I'm here for it!

Maybe he's not meant to touch. It's the newest excuse he thought of in hopes that he could prolong the game a little more; a careful ruse to enjoy the bittersweet torture of seeing the days pass them by, while he pretends he doesn't seek azure blue whenever he's restless. At first, all he wanted to do was watch: but now the desire to touch, to have, to affect is at a point where he's not sure whether reaching for Sonic would truly be fruitless. He wonders that especially when Sonic's eyes light up upon seeing him. When he corners Shadow, when he invades his space and he touches and takes and then excuses it by calling it a fight. Shadow truly wonders then: if only he was brave enough to reach out, what would his grip find? Loose stars or a battle-worn body? Standing up, he glances at Sonic again, whose eyes have now met his own. There's something heavy in the eye contact, something Shadow doesn't dare name. Neither of them say anything, and yet Sonic's eyes move away from him again, like they did. Shadow warps away, hiding from the stars once more.

Child of Prophecy by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 139,321 | Completed

On the night the Mobius Castle was ransacked, the Queen received a prophecy. “One of three will not cry; send him down the river, for you can only save your kingdom if he does not grow up royal.”

Coming Home by nottheweirdest

Words: 55,740 | Completed

Shadow's life has been full of mistakes, some worse than others, but admitting his unrequited feelings to Sonic tops the list. He's spent the better part of a decade ruminating on his regret and hiding from feelings he couldn't bear to face. He never thought he'd see Sonic again, and he told himself that was for the best. Until now. At the bequest of his former rival, and in an attempt to finally get closure, Shadow has returned to Central City. The reason? Sonic the Hedgehog is marrying Amy Rose. And Shadow is invited.

[adragonsfriend]

To expand on a particular point, but slightly to the left, I sometimes see the argument made that “Jedi are partly inspired by Buddhist beliefs, so to criticise Jedi is to critics Buddhism, so critisizing the Jedi is inherently prejudice, so stfu.” None of those things necessarily follow from one another.

(Please note: there are many, many words for how much I love the Jedi and believe they are right about how their world works and how to be good in that world, because I have written both essays and fics about it)

First, the world building of the Jedi involving significant inspiration does not in any way make them representative of Buddhism in the real world. A couple of movies could never contain the depth and breadth of any religion—at most SW attempts to communicate a few principles, with varying success. (Besides which, argument that Buddhism is the sole religious inspiration for SW and the Jedi when everyone or almost everyone involved it their creation grew up in a Christian culture, the main writer explicitly says their thematic opposition is “like the Devil,” and lots of the people involved probably have totally other religions in their lives as well, is frankly foolish)

Second, while a fan-base similarly steeped in a wider Christian and Western culture is certainly likely to be less knowledgable about and quite possibly prejudiced against other understandings of the world, people are allowed to criticise real religions. It should be done with the weight and understanding of what that means—telling millions or sometimes billions of people they are living they lives wrong in some way, and either tacitly or explicitly asking them to change it—but it is not inherently prejudiced to do so. Buddhism, like any other religion, is not some magical mystery thing which is above becoming part of societal or personal strife.

The difference comes in, like OP says, with how well you understand what you are arguing about. For me, criticising my parents Christianity is fairly easy to do with nuance: I used to believe, I went to the services, I read the book, I experienced having a church as a center of community, I’ve seen some good and some bad come of it. I could not say the same if I was critique any other religion, so if I wanted to, I would have to take far more care and do far more research.

There are many arguments about what went on in the SW universe, some of which come down to the ambiguity on interpreting fiction, and some of which come back to real world issues. Some of those arguments are fun, some of them are ones you and I have opinions on, and some of them are dumb; “Jedi are partly inspired by Buddhist beliefs, so to criticise Jedi is to critics Buddhism, so critisizing the Jedi is inherently prejudice, so stfu,” is one of that last group.

There are far more interesting rephrasings of it to explore, including but not limited to:

“I think your view of Star Wars is being limited by growing up in a Christian/other non Buddhist culture.”

“Well if you go and read this text, you’ll see that Buddhism actually says something similar to what Jedi say, but the text has a little more context…”

Or even, “clearly we both know fuck all about Buddhism, so let’s try talking about SW and the Jedi in their own rite, without drawing on real religions to make quippy one liners about how right we are.”

And remember, both-sidesism is always a lie—not just in that two or more “sides” are very rarely equally good—but in the very assumption that any issue of real importance has any inherent “sides” to it at all.

I don't and never will mind posts that criticize the Jedi, their beliefs, etc etc. I myself have pointed out the fact that many other people in the Pro Jedi community do not acknowledge or "allow" others to point out that, yes, the Jedi did have flaws as an organization, and they definitely had some very flawed members. What I do mind is when those posts (and their points) are made with a complete lack of understanding of the material being talked about. You are not building a good argument on the Jedi being wrong about attachments if you do not understand that attachment and love are not the same thing. You can be attached/develop attachment to something you fucking hate. Even then, attachment in the Star Wars universe, as in Buddhism, is defined by feelings of clinging or an inability to let things go/allow change.

You are not building a good argument on the Jedi having a slave army if you are not willing to bring up how they were put into that position, how they themselves dealt with that situation, and make an argument for what they could have done differently that takes the complexities of the entire situation into account. You are not making a good argument about the Jedi being wrong to hold Anakin's fear against him if you cannot and/or will not acknowledge that Star Wars' entire power/magic system is based upon negative emotions and our reactions to them. I could go on and on and on, but I would be beating a dead tauntaun at that point. My point is, approach the media and your arguments in good faith, with clear knowledge on what it is you are talking about, and you'll find people more receptive to hearing you out. That goes for both "sides." Just be good to each other, always.