#i'm sorry if this is all over the place but then again i think i am always all over the place lol

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 5 | l.n

summary: oh damn, never seen that color blue…

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, some more filler (IM SORRY ITS FOR THE PLOT!!!!!), fluff (EEKK!!!!), subtle foreshadowing, unedited as fuck, and hints at a strained family relationship (trauma!!)

message from jordan: hi everyone! long time no see, huh? 😅 i'm so sorry for being mia and for not updating this series in so long, i decided to take a small break from almost all socials. but don't worry, we're back and better than ever <3 as always, thank you for being so patient with me. i hope this chapter is worth the wait!! see you soon, for real this time :) - p.s i hope you enjoy that taylor swift reference in the summary, cause, iykyk 🙂‍↕️

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

“hellloooo earth to oscar!”

it was no use. this was the third time he had unintentionally interrupted your conversation to respond to a text. all while doing so with a giddy smile, one you had never seen light up his face quite like this one did.

you had come over right after class, the two of you agreeing to hang out and catch up. it had been a while since it had just been the two of you hanging out, the inevitable busy schedules really hitting hard during your last semester. you missed your best friend.

missed meaning past tense. because although he was your best friend, right now, you wanted to snap his neck.

"oscar jack piastri!"

"oh- sorry," he mumbled the same apology for the third time this afternoon, "sorry, i was just texting someone. it's nothing, what were we talking about?"

you gave him a blank stare, "were you texting your secret girlfriend?"

you noticed the way his eyes widened a little upon mentioning the word ‘girlfriend’, "okay, one, she's not my girlfriend. and two, no. i was texting max."

and for the four years you've known oscar piastri, you could always tell when he was lying. and this time, he was lying right to your face.

you decided to play along with his game, letting him think he won this time. so you hummed, nodding your head, "okay, fine, if you say so."

"i'm sorry," he apologized again, locking his phone and placing it face down on the kitchen counter, "you have my full attention now, promise. what were you saying?"

"i was telling you about last week."

"right, with lando and the diner thing, right?" he asked and you hummed, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in between the two of you, "wait a minute, how'd you go from hating his guts and it being unbearable to be within 5 feet of him to 'oh my god he took me to breakfast'?"

"you know that party lily practically dragged me to?" when he nodded you spoke again, "apparently i really suck at beer pong and he helped me back to the apartment and helped lily take care of me. it was really sweet, actually."

he smiled softly before letting out a quiet snort, "sorry, just never thought i'd hear you say the words 'lando' and 'sweet' in the same sentence."

"i'm serious!" you sighed, pouting ever so slightly.

"no, i know!" he laughed softly, "it's just... you're just now finding out what i've been trying to tell you for the longest time? that he's actually a really good dude?"

you bit down on your lower lip softly, "i didn't really give him a chance, huh?"

"not really, no," he chuckled softly, "but it's okay. he didn't exactly help out his own case either, in all honesty."

you nodded in agreement, the front door to the apartment creaking open. you both turned to see lando kicking off his shoes, placing his keys on the hook by the door.

he smiled at you and oscar, "hey,"

"hey," oscar smiled, answering for you as well as you took in his appearance. messy curls, tight black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, duffel bag on his shoulder and a soft glow on his skin, you could tell he had just gotten back from the gym.

arms. biceps. veins. god, you should probably speak before you embarrass yourself...

it was too late though, he had already seen the way your eyes traveled over his body. he decided to put the mental note in the back of his mind for now, instead checking the watch on his wrist.

"oh shit, i didn't mean to keep you waiting, y/n."

you tapped your phone screen, looking at the time. it was 4:35, just five minutes passed when you said you'd meet up. it really wasn't a big deal. you didn't even know it had gotten that late already.

"no, no, it's fine. didn't even notice, if i'm honest," you smiled and he sent you a smile back. oscar watched the two of you like a tennis match, cheekily grinning at the counter.

"i have some of those papers you had me work on the other day, they're in my room if you wanna..."

"oh- yeah! yeah, sure," you smiled, grabbing your things as oscar silently laughed at the way you acted around his roommate. how you were unintentionally tripping and stumbling over your own feet and your words, how lovestruck you became.

you followed lando to his room, placing your things down and taking a seat on the edge of his bed as he looked through his closet for a change of clothes, "i'm just gonna shower real quick, make yourself at home, though."

you smiled, nodding his way as he closed the door behind him. after all this time, you had never thought you'd see the other side of this door. his room was slightly messy, due to his busy schedule and his active lifestyle. posters of cars and, seemingly, his favorite video games hanging on the walls. the bookshelf that sat in the corner of the room was littered with different textbooks at the bottom and little die cast models of his favorite cars, along with a few formula one cars that you had recognized. the top shelf stood out the most to you, though.

a picture frame of him and who you had assumed to be his family. a family photo taken during christmas, all of them dressed in matching pajamas. a big happy family.

the photo, for whatever reason, brought tears to your eyes. a smile on your face as you sniffled quietly, putting the photo frame back down on it's designated shelf.

the door opened, causing you to turn around as he closed the door behind him, "sorry, i figured you'd prefer if i didn't smell like a guy's locker-room."

you laughed softly, wiping away the small tear that came from your eye, "god, yeah,"

"hey," he said, sitting down on the bed beside you, immediately disregarding the notebook he was grabbing beforehand, "what's wrong? you okay?"

you nodded, waving a hand dismissively, "yeah, yeah, i'm fine. i just- for whatever reason, when i looked at that picture of you and your family it just uhm..."

he patiently waited for you to finish your sentence, "it just brought back some feelings that i wish it hadn't, that's all."

"fuck, i'm so sorry," he said.

"no, no," you shook your head, "you don't have to apologize, if anything i should be the one who's apologizing."

"you don't have to apologize for having emotions."

you smiled softly, feeling another tear fall from the corner of your eye. this time, he gently brought his hand up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wiped it away.

the action made you breathless, as if the way he was looking into your eyes hadn't already. a mysterious color you couldn't quite put your finger on. it was a mix between blue, green and grey.

whatever it was, it was gorgeous and captivating at the same time.

you cleared your throat, the two of you moving away from the gap that had slowly been closing. your fingers untwisting themselves from his, you growing flushed at the fact that you had, at some point, interlocked your fingers with his unknowingly.

"sorry," you mumbled softly.

"'m sorry," he said at the same time. you both shared a soft and awkward chuckle before he grabbed his notebook from behind him.

"so, i had a few questions about chapter 15."

"go on," you said, studying his side profile as he explained the areas he was having trouble with. pretty tanned skin littered with freckles and moles, curls that perfectly kissed the skin on the back of his neck and his forehead.

the sentence lily had said to you last week repeating itself into your brain:

“...and it’s not like i don’t see the way he looks at you. he definitely is feeling something he doesn’t want to show just yet,”

oh, fuck.

[enigmaris]

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi, can you please do Fisting with Lewis Hamilton. Maybe like reader and Lewis are trying something new and possibly an age gap relationship

An: Good morning! I hope everyone is having an amazing day!!

TW: MDNI 18+ Fisting, age gap

WC: 1k+

Y/N POV

We had finally settled down in Maranello after a long few days.

"Lew, I saw something I kind of want to try but I'm scared you're gonna think it's weird," I admit softly while crawling into the lap of my older boyfriend.

"What is it love," Lewis asks softly while rubbing my sides up and down in a soothing manner.

"I don't even know if I can say it," I admit feeling my cheeks heat up just thinking about what I'm about to say.

"Hey, you know I will never judge you for something you want to try," Lewis tries to reassure me. I nod my head softly feeling myself fidget a little getting turned on just thinking about it.

"I saw a video when I was touching myself a few days ago..." I start feeling my hips slowly start to grind slowly into Lewis's hardening crotch.

"You didn't tell me you needed some relief," Lewis whispers leaning down and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Anyways, I want you to fist me," I spit out the words as fast as I can hoping Lewis knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"You wanna feel my whole hand stretching that pretty pussy out?" Lewis asks with a smirk written all over his face. The grip he has on my hips only tightens while he helps me grind harder down into his crotch.

"If it's too weird I'm sorry," I whine feeling my panties start to dampen making Lewis release his grip on my hips and move his hands to grip my face gently making me look at him.

"It's not weird, if it's gonna make my girl feel good than we are gonna stretch this pretty pussy out to take my fist," Lewis tells me before pulling my face towards him and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

Lewis got the both of us moved to the bedroom where he undressed me completely and undressed himself down to his boxer briefs letting me see his hard cock pressing again the fabric of his briefs.

"Are you ready?" Lewis asks softly while running his fingers through my soaked folds making me moan while nodding my head softly.

I notice Lewis quickly pull off the rings on his right hand gently placing them on my fingers before kissing my hand before bringing his now bare fingers back to my pussy.

Lewis easily slips two fingers deep into my pussy making me moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

Lewis fucks my pussy for a few seconds before he slips a third finger in making me gasp at the slight stretch.

"Take my fingers so good," Lewis whispers before leaning down and kissing my inner thigh in a soothing manner.

"Feels so good," I moan when Lewis's fingers continue to fuck into my G-spot before slipping his pinky finger to join the other three making me tense up in a loud moan.

"Come on relax love," Lewis whispers softly while using his free hand to rub my thigh trying to get me to relax.

"It's a lot," I gasp while trying to relax to let Lewis continue to fuck my pussy.

"You can do it," Lewis encourages while slowly starting to pump his four fingers in and out of my pussy trying to loosen me up enough to be able to slip his thumb into my pussy.

"Feels so good," I moan when Lewis starts picking up pace with his finger fucking.

Lewis slows his fingers down knowing if he makes me cum right now it'll be too sensitive to keep going. I can feel Lewis using his free hand to softly start rubbing my clit before I feel Lewis folding his thumb in softly trying to stretch my pussy enough to be able to take his whole hand.

"Relax baby," Lewis comments when I tense up so much that Lewis can no longer move his hand that he's still trying to fill me up with.

"Fuck Lew! It's so big," I gasp out while trying to relax to let Lewis continue pushing in.

"You can take it baby," Lewis says while pushing in a little bit more making me moan at the pleasurable burn of the stretch. I can tell Lewis is close to being able to slip the rest of his hand in.

"Just push it in!" I moan loudly which had Lewis pinching my inner thigh hard making me whine from the pain but during the pinch he pushes the rest of his fist deep into my pussy making me scream in pleasured pain.

"Fuck Lewis!" I scream out never being stretched this wide before.

"Fuck, you took my full fist baby," Lewis comments while slowly starting to move his fist deep in my pussy making me moan loudly.

"So much," I mumble getting lost in the pleasure.

"Doing so good for me, you gonna cum like this?" Lewis teases knowing damn well I was getting close to cumming for him.

Lewis uses his other hand to start teasing my throbbing clit making me moan loudly while he starts fucking into my pussy faster and faster making me arch my back off the bed at how close I'm getting to cumming.

"Cum for me," Lewis groans while rubbing my clit even faster throwing me over the edge almost instantly.

"Fuck!" I cry out when I fall over the edge squirting all over both Lewis and I. I could feel myself starting to cum once again letting my second orgasm wash over me blending into my first one.

"Oh God," I cry feeling my orgasms start blending together in one overstimulating mess.

Once Lewis helps ride out my orgasm he slowly starts pulling a his fist from my pussy making me moan and whimper from the over stimulation.

Once his fist pops out of my pussy I can feel how much my pussy is gaping and when I notice Lewis staring I can't help but feel slightly embarrassed.

"Fuck that's so hot," Lewis groans before leaning down and taking a teasing lick out of my overstimulated clit making me jump at the contact.

"Did so good for me," Lewis groans while pulling himself back up to place a kiss on my lips.

----

The end

Sorry for not posting yesterday but my goal is to post 3 or 4 more times today but absolutely no promises

[writingonleaves]

to not know who i am, but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nothing much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: i like me better by lauv

word count: 6.4k

author's note: hello everyone!! i feel like i've been in such a rut lately but i'm glad i managed to write this one out! this is for the lovely @wyattjohnston for her winter fic exchange 2k25. demi, thank you as always for your hard work in putting this together and i hope you enjoy. sorry that it's a few days late! to everyone, please let me know what you think!!

*****

When Maia Flaherty left her usual lunchtime coffee run with a number from one very Jack Hughes, she didn’t really quite know what to think. 

“No pressure,” he had said with an easy smile. “I just think you’re pretty and the glare you gave that couple that was making out at the table next to you sold it for me.”

As she stares out on her train ride home, she’s deep in thought. This might be just a one date thing and then they find out they have nothing in common and they move on. But she knows herself. She doesn’t fall fast, but when she falls, she falls hard. What if she ends up falling harder than him, setting herself up for heartbreak. But she knows that’s also unfair to him, especially because she doesn’t know him. She appreciates his boldness in asking her out, but she doesn’t understand how he can be so confident and sure that he wants to go on a date with her. To be fair, maybe he’s only looking for something casual, to which she has even less of an idea of how to handle it, because she has never done casual and doesn’t think she could do it. 

As she’s walking the streets back to her place in West Village, she thinks about how to approach this. Knowing her, she’s too curious to not text him and she probably will think on it over the weekend. But, should she protect herself and go into this as just meeting a friend or go into this romantically? She admits that he is cute and she was the slightest bit charmed by him, but she knows that she knows nothing else about him. She takes the time to look up some of his highlights of his career (he had dropped his Instagram handle to her “just so you know I’m a real person”) and she knows that he’s good. Almost annoyingly good. As a University of Minnesota alum, she’s familiar enough with hockey as a whole. She stalks his Instagram and doesn’t find anything much besides posts with family, friends and teammates. Pretty average. But she’s still weary. 

Monday morning rolls around, and on her train to work, she takes a deep breath, clicking on his contact and copy and pasting what she had written last night. 

hi!!! it’s maia from the cafe. if the offer still stands, i’d love to go out on that date 

Not even a minute later, and she gets a response. 

what a wonderful text to get on a Monday morning

the offer absolutely still stands. what’s your schedule looking like this week?

not around during regular people work hours so monday-friday 9-5 won’t work

my weekend is pretty empty atm but idk if that works for you? i’m assuming you have games this week

no games this weekend, for once. all weeknight games.

lucky timing

lucky indeed. you around Saturday for lunch?

works for me!

you’re in jersey right? i can come out to you if that’s easier

are you kidding me?

i’m not gonna make you come out to me, especially because I’m the one who asked you out

where are you in the city? I’ll come to you

She smiles to herself.

I’m in west village, but i can meet you anywhere 

i’ll do some research after practice and get back to you?

sure

i also can suggest some places as well!! 

appreciate it. i got it though. i’m the one who asked so I feel like it’d be unfair to ask you to plan

Huh, she thinks, being surprised again. She doesn’t have much to compare to, but she can’t remember a single date she’s been on where she hasn’t been the one planning.

okay lmk if you need my help! no rush we have a whole week 

(Jack has a break in a morning practice and he’s just staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. His teammates are all making fun of him, but he pays them no mind. It’s not new for them to poke fun at him for texting girls, but he knows, he just knows that this one is different. 

He also kinda likes the idea of “we.”)

kinda wish we didn’t

oh?

saturday is so far away 

you’ll survive

She gets into the office just then and her phone is forgotten as she’s thrown into spreadsheets and meetings. It isn’t until 4 p.m. where she has the mental energy and time to look at his responses. The last text he had sent was two hours ago.  

i found a place. well, a couple

i asked some of my friends who know the city better than I do

*screenshot of list in Notes app*

i tried to find places in different parts of Manhattan, mostly in West Village. i don’t know where exactly in that area you are and how easy or hard it is for you to get wherever

sorry, just realized I’m spamming you and you’re probably working

I’m so sorry i left you hanging work was literally insane until now

honestly all of these places sound wonderful

i’ve been to a couple of them before so tell your friends they have good taste

any one in particular you like?

you choose

since you’re planning it after all 

lol

i really don’t want you having to travel that far

i literally live in nyc so if I want to see any of my friends who don’t live by me I have to travel far

and you’re literally coming from jersey

i’ll be fine with any choice you make

seriously 

He chooses one of her favorite Greek food joints about 10 blocks from where she is and she tries to put it away in her mind. She still has this whole week to go. She’s known for years that she gets overwhelmed and stressed if she thinks ahead occasionally, and this is definitely one of those times. 

(There’s a game on Wednesday night, and her best friend and roommate Carrie urges her to put it on TV in the background while they’re eating dinner. Carrie knows next to nothing about hockey, so Maia tries to explain it to her. But most of the time, she’s quiet and her eyes are zeroed in on 86. Or trying to, because everyone skates so fucking fast. He scores a goal and assists another, and she knows that that’s literally his job, but she can’t help but feel something watching him skate around so confidently. 

She’s always respected the skill it takes to play hockey. Skating is hard. But the hockey attitude wasn’t always something that she loved. She understands that she’s projecting a lot of unwarranted judgement. But she doesn't think it’s all based on lies.

As the minutes wind down in the game, she zones out. She really doesn’t understand how or why this literal superstar of the sport just approached her and after knowing literally nothing about her, asked her out. This shit doesn’t happen to her. She also knows the usual crowd that hockey players go for. She’s not blonde. She’s not a model. She’s not anything like that. 

What does he want from her?)

*****

She wakes up Saturday morning a bit groggy, thanks to the glasses of wine her and Carrie had the night before. She goes through her morning routine, but decides to forgo the coffee and make a smoothie instead. She usually likes to sip on her coffee for hours rather than down it all in one go. And she knows if she downs it, she’ll start shaking. 

She doesn’t need to be shaking today. 

Carrie stumbles out when Maia just leaves the bathroom and offers to make a smoothie for her. With a yawn, Carrie nods as she slides past her to go into the bathroom. 

It’s 9:48 a.m. They’re meeting right at noon, so she has a bit of time. Her phone buzzes right after she finishes cleaning the blender. 

good morning! see you soon

She just sends back a couple of emojis, before scrolling around on her social media accounts, sipping on her smoothie. It’s just the waiting now that’s making her more nervous. 

She already knows what she’s gonna wear. An olive green sweater she bought recently that she’s been loving, black leggings, brown booties and earrings that she got years ago when she studied abroad. She’s leaving her hair down and putting some light makeup on. Nothing crazy. This is literally lunch. And she’s not gonna overthink for a boy. 

Carrie proves to be a good distraction, simultaneously hyping her up, assuring her and talking about other things to keep her head level. She walks to the subway station and goes on the train, airpods in. This is all routine. The way there is no stranger to her, often meeting up with her brother for dinner around the area. 

She checks the time. On time. 

She approaches the restaurant’s front at 11:57 and decides to walk in and grab a table. She stops in her tracks when she sees that he’s already there, in the corner by the window that she usually loves to sit at. He’s wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans, a baseball cap flipped backwards on his head. She waves off the hostess and heads in his direction. 

He looks up from his phone and immediately locks it, standing up. She smiles in greeting and he comes around to grab her bag as she shrugs off her jacket. She thanks him softly, to which he just smiles back at. As she’s sitting down, he pours out some water.

“You didn’t get lost getting here?” She jokes. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that directionally challenged. Just not used to it.”

“That’s what you get for living in Jersey.”

“Oh. So that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

And that just sets the tone for the rest of the date. It’s…surprisingly easy. The follow up question immediately is if she’s from the city, to which she snorts and says “absolutely not,” but she’s been living here for over two years now. She grew up in Buffalo, she says, and went to college at University of Minnesota, to which he, of course, widens his eyes. “You went to Minnesota, and you’re not a hockey fan?” She rolls her eyes. “When did I say I’m not a hockey fan?” She talks about how yes, she went to a couple of games when she was there and they were always fun, but she wasn’t necessarily an avid fan. 

He talks about growing up in Toronto even though he was born in Orlando and then going to Michigan and how hockey was literally just his life from a young age, especially with parents who were also involved, as well as an older and a younger brother growing up to play too. Sure, she knows all of this (she couldn’t help herself and did enough research), but it is nice and different to hear from him directly. She does slip for a second and makes fun of his private school upbringing (“It tracks.”) but the shocked delight on his face lets her know that he doesn’t take offense. 

As they order the food and it comes and they start eating, she lets herself be charmed. She didn’t expect him to be so…normal. Normal in the way that she often forgot that he was one of the best hockey players in the country. Normal in the way that parts of him remind her of her closest guy friends. But then he would mention something about his career or just a random detail in his life that would make her remember. 

She notices that he also is very aware of how much he talks. It’s natural for her to ask more questions, because that’s just how she’s wired, but he turns questions back to her that excite her or make her laugh, and then she goes on a minor tangent. It’s very back and forth. Balanced. 

She’s having a really good time. 

She expected him to be more…straight-forward in terms of flirting, due to how he asked her out, but he’s not. He seems a bit nervous at times even, chuckling adorably and avoiding eye contact, but then he says something that’s so just so incredibly confident that makes her flustered or let out a scoff of disbelief. 

Before they know it, they’re done eating. She protests when he immediately grabs the check and pulls out his card, to which he just playfully glares at her for. She does relent and thanks him, and she’ll never forget the boyish smile he gave her. 

They’re both on the same page, not wanting their time together to end quite yet, lingering to leave. And then she suggests grabbing a coffee from a place around the corner and walking to a nearby park. She teases him, asking if he’ll get cold to which he scoffs at (“I’m basically a Canadian and I live at the rink. I’ll be fine. Will you?” She laughs. “I was born and raised in Buffalo. Don’t worry about me.”) 

They grab coffee (to which she puts her foot down and pays and he lets her), him a black coffee and her an iced chai, and she leads them leisurely to a nearby park. It’s a little chilly, but it’s not windy which is good, and they find an empty bench and sit down, their conversation and battering just coming so incredibly easy. Even to the point where sometimes, she’s not necessarily calling him out, but she’s challenging some of his thoughts. She’s not shattering his confidence at all, but definitely subtly giving him a reality check and just being honest.

And not even purposefully. It’s just how she is.

(He really appreciates it, actually. It’s been awhile since someone who he’s just met isn’t afraid to challenge him off the rink. He loves the attention and always has, and she’s giving that to him, but there’s also something innate in her that’s so grounded and in turns, grounds him.)

But it’s also different. It’s different when he randomly throws out a compliment here and there, saying how he loves her laugh and how cute she is. The way he’s paying attention to everything she’s saying. The way he just can’t help but chuckle almost incredulously because she’s so much more than he imagined, even though he’s the one who asked her out. 

Before they know it, it’s almost 4 and they’ve been chatting the whole time. Yet somehow, it still feels like they could keep going. She walks him to the nearest subway station since it’s on her way home. She gives him a farewell hug and he follows his gut and kisses her on the cheek, promising to text her. She smiles one more time before turning to walk back to her apartment.

When she gets back to her place, Carrie’s there and ready for a recap. She says everything she can remember them talking about, which is a lot, while Carrie just listens carefully. Throughout it, she’s trying to downplay it, probably for self-preservation purposes, looking back. Carrie lets her dwell on it occasionally, but also interrupts when needed to try to assure her friend that she’s a catch and there’s a reason he asked her out in the first place and she can’t play herself down like that. 

What she knows for a fact at this point is that she likes spending time with him, and she does have romantic feelings for him. Everything else? She has no idea. She has no idea if they’d pair together well. She has no idea what he wants from this. She has no idea how he actually feels about her, because he could’ve just thrown out those compliments because he’s naturally flirty. It wouldn’t surprise her. And god, she can’t help but let her mind wander into his career and being in the spotlight and how that just affects…everything.

She just doesn’t know. 

(Meanwhile, he returns to an empty place, Luke out with some friends for the night. He can’t stop smiling, replaying the whole day in his head. She’s just so much more than he expected, able to keep up with his quips, often beating them. She laughs and smiles so freely. She’s so damn smart. She’s beautiful. 

He’s had his fair share of hookups and casual things, but this? This is different. It’s scary, he thinks, that he’s this invested after one date. It’s unfamiliar territory, and there’s so much more he wants to know about her. 

He needs to know everything he can about her. Before she figures out that she’s way too good for him.)

*****

Four weeks pass, and they haven’t seen each other. There have been some sporadic texts here and there, but with the chaos of both their jobs and then Thanksgiving, it hasn’t accounted to more than that. 

(She’s trying to get over it and let it pass. He wants anything but that)

On an early December evening, Maia’s just finished cleaning up the dishes when she gets a call. When she sees his name, she blinks. She clicks accept.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jack.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?”

“I’m doing okay. Thanksgiving was good! I got to go back home for a few days. How about you? Did you even have a break?”

“Not really. I had some family come to watch some games though, so that was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” she hums. 

“Listen-I…I know it’s been awhile.”

“Almost a month.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out guiltily. “I-I’m really sorry about that. I’ve…the season’s just been so crazy and, yeah. I’ve been meaning to reach out sooner, but just, like. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she replies automatically. “I get it. Your schedule is crazy. I feel like you have a game every other day.”

“You’ve been keeping up?” He teases lightly. 

She rolls her eyes. “A bit more than I used to, sure. But that really doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs a bit, before settling down into a serious tone. “If you have time, or if you even want to, because I totally understand why you wouldn’t, I’d love to go out again. I just, I had a really good time with you last time. Again, I know I…if you say no, I get it.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, but she knows her answer. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she smiles to herself at his surprised tone. “You surprised?”

“A bit. I mean, I kinda fell off the face of the planet. I would understand if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

He sighs. “This week? Not much, unfortunately. I’m only around for dinner tomorrow and Friday, and then I’m gone for a few days on a stretch of away games.”

“Wanna do tomorrow?”

“You around?”

She snorts. “I’m not as busy as you are, Mr. NHL. I’m free most weeknights.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow night’s perfect. I’ll actually be in the city in the afternoon to meet up with a friend so I’ll just stay and meet you around there.”

“Oh good. I don’t have to pretend I want to go to Jersey.”

“This again?”

She laughs. “I can choose this time. Do you know where you’re meeting your friend?

“Yeah. I have his address. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes and she briefly looks at the location on Google Maps. 

“Oh. Battery Park. That’s close to where I am. You must really like this friend if you’re willing to travel that far. It’s a pretty long way from Newark.”

“Right? That’s what I told him. So, tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can figure out a place and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning the latest if that works? What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything you like.”

“Jack.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. How does ramen sound?”

“Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you,”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Tomorrow comes, this time at a lowkey but busy ramen place where they’re sat side by side and their knees are touching. Jack’s hair is out this time, and the waves are falling across his forehead and she just loves the way it looks. He notices the two rings she’s wearing as one quickly catches a light in the restaurant. They continue on from the last time they talked but this time, swimming the surface of deeper conversations. 

She talks about her constant doubts about her job and how she sometimes just wants to pick up and movs somewhere else and start new. He talks about how he knows he’s good at hockey and knows this is the only path for him, but how he recognizes that outsiders look and sometimes see a sell-out or someone who doesn’t work hard. But he’s learned to just put his head down and play and to do it well. That’s something she can also relate to. 

She talks about how her relationship with her older brother is one that she’s found to be very grateful for, especially because they’re so far apart in age. A lot of who she is is based on his personality. He talks about being the middle child and being close in age to his brothers, and how competition was always just built into every activity they did. He’s realized, especially as he’s gotten older, how much he appreciates his brothers and having all three of them being in the same league, with Luke on the same team, and going through similar experiences but also completely different trajectories. 

(Somewhere, they both take a few sake shots and Maia’s not quite drunk, but buzzing, her laughter more free and her face redder).

Even semi-intoxicated, she decides not to ask the questions she really wants to yet that focus around them and what they are, unclear of where they stand. They’re sitting so close to each other and she relishes in it, wanting more. When she runs a hand through her hair to push it back, she notices his eyes flickering at that action, which means…nothing. She has to break away eye contact sometimes because he’s just staring at her so intensely. 

No wonder he has girls wanting him left and right, she thinks. She’s kind of no better. 

Towards the end of the night (he paid again and she only let him after he said he would let her pay next time. Next time), they plan out vaguely when they’ll see each other next. He’s away for the next week or so, and she just shrugs. She gets it. It would be naive of her to think she can change it. “I’ll let you know the second I land,” he says, and she just nods. She then jokes that maybe their next date could be skating, and he rolls his eyes, though he takes it into consideration. When he asks if she’s serious, she snorts, “I mean, sure. But you’re not gonna have to teach me how, if that’s what you’re going for.” He laughs. Loudly.

When they part ways, he hugs her tightly and for a long time. She breathes him in subtly, her eyes fluttering shut when she feels him press a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

Maybe that’s when she should’ve asked. Because that act was way too intimate to feel friendly. But she didn’t, and she watched him walk away, chuckling as he turned around to shoot her a parting wink. 

She went to sleep that night, somehow, with so many thoughts circling around her mind)

*****

Maia has an idea of when he’s landing, so she’s not surprised when she gets a call on a Thursday night.

He seems a bit out of breath, and she asks him if everything’s okay. Everything’s fine, he says. He just landed back in Newark and is heading home. He cuts to the chase, and asks if she’s around the next night. She blinks, because she knows he has a game. He clarifies. Is she around after the game? (“Or for the game,” he adds quickly. “If you want to come, I can get you tickets.”) While she’s flattered, she knows that’s crossing a line at this point and she politely turns down his offer. But yeah, she says. I’m around after. What’s up? He asks if he can take her out on a date. And she knows her answer (it’s obviously yes) but she says only if she’s allowed to go to him in Jersey. He protests immediately, but she shuts him up (“Both of our dates have been way closer to where I am. It’s only fair, Maia.”) 

It’s gonna be a late night date, since the game (assuming no overtime) won’t end until at least 10:00. He’s not sure what he has in store, but she’s okay with not knowing. The only thing he assures her of is that he’ll drive her back into the city afterwards. Traffic should be light, so she doesn’t fight him. 

(That should’ve been another hint that this was something worth pursuing. She has a hard time letting go of control of plans, especially with people she hasn’t known for awhile.

She trusts him already)

When he hangs up, she thinks for a second. He had told her during their last date that he would let her know the second he landed. 

And he did. 

Huh.

*****  

The next night, she’s nervous. 

Dinner’s already been eaten. She caught the first period of his game, but had to leave to catch her trains to meet him. With encouraging words from Carrie paired with some hype up music, she’s on her way.

When she steps out of the station on this abnormally warm December night, she immediately sees him leaning against his car. His hair is damp from the shower he probably just took, and he’s sporting a peacoat over a sweater and blue jeans. 

He perks up when he sees her and she practically skips over to him. She smiles and pulls him into a hug, and she feels him press a light kiss in her hair. 

“Hey.” She says softly. 

“Hi,” he mutters in her hair, pulling away to lean down and place a kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He opens the door for her as she slides in, and she’s thankful that she followed her instincts and dressed comfortably in her beloved Minnesota sweatshirt, stifling a yawn as she thanked him. She puts on her seatbelt and leans back, watching him climb in. 

He turns to her, “Wanna aux?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, already fiddling around to connect her Apple carplay. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He chuckles, looking behind him to pull onto the road. 

She shrugs. “What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She snorts. “You don’t mean that.” She scrolls through her playlists and debates on which one to do. “I saw that you guys lost. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies automatically and she catches his eye and gives him a look of doubt. He corrects himself. “Okay, it’s frustrating, but none of that right now. I wanna hear about you. How’s your week been? Did that thing with your boss get resolved?”

She blinks. Right. She had mentioned that briefly when he called her earlier in the week. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I don’t know. You gotta learn which battles to fight, you know? This one is one I don’t have to win.”

He nods with a soft hum, stopping at a red light. “Do you like milkshakes?”

She chuckles a bit at the change of topic. “I don’t mind them.”

“Wanna get some right now?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” he admits. “Because I want one.”

“That can’t be on the diet plan you athletes have going on.” 

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. Worth it though.”

“Do they have oreo or cookies and cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” He grins, and she takes a couple seconds just to watch it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Thanks for coming out to Jersey at 10 pm.”

She chuckles. His heart drops to his stomach. “I had nothing else to do on a Friday night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe that.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

She leans back into her seat. “I don’t have the energy to hang out with people every night. Respect to the people who do. That’s just never been me. I can sit for hours and not talk to anyone.”

“You’re an introvert, then.”

“Is that surprising?”

He takes a second to think about it. “Yes, one, because you always talk about your friends so I know you have a lot. And two, because we literally talked for four hours on our first date.”

She shrugs, looking straight ahead of her to get the courage to respond. “There’s very few people in my life who I can talk with for hours.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”

She looks back over to him, watching as he shoots her a quick smile before he focuses back on the road. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Practices and games and travelling in the west coast, so I’m a little jetlagged, which isn’t great.”

“I didn’t realize that you guys play games like, every other day. Which is dumb, because like, it makes sense, but that just sounds exhausting. What am I saying though? It’s literally your job.”

He laughs softly and she tries to ignore the warmth spreading across her skin. “It can be tiring, for sure. But yeah, I love it, you know? Wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Just then, they pull into this small, unassuming diner and roll right through the drive-thru. He orders a chocolate milkshake and she gets an oreo one, and before he can think about it, she forces her credit card in his hand. He laughs and relents, and they pull out and are back on the road quickly. She sips on her milkshake and smiles to herself, not even asking where he’s driving them to next. 

(She thinks they could be anywhere and she’d still want to keep talking to him forever. He thinks that practically every worry in his life could fade away if he could look at her smile for the rest of his life)

He rolls up to one of his favorite views in Jersey of midtown Manhattan, finding an alcove and backing his car into it. Hamilton Park. They both get out and all she can do is stand there and admire the stunning view, milkshake in hand. She’s literally breathless. The last time she remembers feeling like this is when she saw the Pantheon for the first time nearing midnight with her brother when they were in Rome in 2022. She doesn’t notice him unlocking the trunk and setting up the backseat with blankets and pillows until he softly calls her name. 

(When her eyes met his, the glow of Manhattan in her eyes, he swears to this day that his heart skipped a beat. He was hers already then)

They settle into the makeshift couch, not quite touching but really freaking close. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, just looking at the view. 

He hums, his eyes flickering between the view he knows too well and the girl who makes him feel better about who he is simply for just being around. It sure is. 

She lets herself admire the view silently for a minute or so more, before she can’t take it anymore. “Jack?” She asks, still looking out. 

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” 

Wrong answer, if the unimpressed expression on her face is any indication. She nudges her knee with his. “Come on. You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What are we?” 

He shrugs, trying to ignore the frogs in his stomach. He should’ve known she was gonna bring it up first. She’s too smart not to. “I-I like you. Wouldn’t have chased after you if I didn’t. You-you’re amazing, you know that? I don’t think you realize how much you can just stay on someone’s mind. I know this is only our third date, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I like who I am when I’m around you.” 

She swallows, pausing to sip her milkshake and wiggling into the blankets. He thinks she’s adorable. “I haven’t liked someone in so long. I thought I forgot what it felt like. But then you asked me out and I see a text from you or hear you through my phone or see you on TV, and I’m like oh. I think I remember what it feels like now. It feels like this.” 

He has to take a second because oh, maybe her dreams of becoming an author aren’t just words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She swallows again. “But I, I can’t do casual. I never have. I really, really wish I could

sometimes. So if that’s what you want, I can’t do it.” 

“What makes you think I want casual?” 

She snorts, “Because you’re a hot and talented hockey player? You can’t blame me for making the assumption.” 

“You think I’m hot?” 

Maia smacks him in the stomach. Jack laughs. She takes a breath. It’s now or never. “I just, I know you have girls in your DMs and your comments and everywhere else that are prettier and maybe could give you more of what you’re looking for or something that’s not…me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She lets out a small noise and smiles slightly. “Thanks. But, I-I know that you have so many options. I won’t be hurt if I’m not the one you choose.”

He taps her knee so she’s paying attention and listening to his next words. “I-I’ve done casual before. I don’t think I can do that with you.” 

“You can’t? Why not?” 

“Well, A, because you don’t want to, which leads to B, I don’t want to. Not with you.” It’s his turn to swallow now as he looks at the skyline. “I really, really like you, Maia.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“All in?” 

“All in.”

“You completely sure?” She interlaces her hand in with his and raises his knuckles up to her lips. He’s utterly floored. But he’s nervous. And she can sense it. 

“Yes. I just…it’s, I’m not trying to backtrack. I mean, you’ve already seen some of it. Like, during the season, it’s intense. Game every two or three days, practice pretty much everyday, stretches of roadies and being away. I feel like, not that I doubt you or us or anything, but that’s not, I won’t be around as much as I should be. How is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I figured that from the first day. I get it. Well, as much as I can get it. I’m sure it’s gonna be tough. I know it will be.” She squeezes his hand, leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

“You’re too good for me.”

She scoffs, grinning as he places a kiss on her temple. She places her milkshake by her side, summoning up some courage. She adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing him, and he just watches her intensely. With her white BU crewneck, a blanket around her shoulders, hair falling just past her shoulders, and the soft smile on her face, his mind goes quiet. Peaceful.  

She kisses him first. Innocently and softly, before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

He responds quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against hers again. They’re both smiling into the kiss and everything feels calm. He wraps a hand around her waist as she maneuvers her hands around his neck, playing with his hair. She’s so lost in him that she doesn’t really realize that she moves herself so that she hovers over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He has his hands placed on her lower back.

He lets out a low groan, “Baby.”

Her brain short circuits, both at the nickname (she’s always flinched at it before, but she loves the way he says it) and the timbre of his voice, but she has enough sense to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily. “Sorry,” she breathes out, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She needs a second. 

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing her face back up to his and brushing his thumbs on her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I saw you.”

She chuckles, sliding off of him and settling into his side, staring out at the skyline again. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I kinda knew if I kissed you before knowing what we were, it would be more heartbreaking if you rejected me.”

“If I rejected you?” 

“Yes.”

“In what world would I have rejected you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s not this world.”

She keeps herself from rolling her eyes, and just leans up to kiss him on the cheek. Because, you know, she can do that now. 

(That night, staring out at the stunning skyline of a city she has grown to love, with the warmth of the blankets over her legs and over her shoulder, a boy she was very quickly growing to care for deeply pressed by her side, telling her he feels the same way, she felt lifted. Free.

Unstoppable)

(When he drops her home, it’s 1:18 a.m. and she doesn’t want to get out of the car. With the way his hand has been attached to her thigh, it seems like he doesn’t want her to get out either. But he has an 11 am practice tomorrow and he just had a game. He’s exhausted. 

He kisses her once, twice, a third time before letting her go. As soon as she steps through the lobby of her apartment building and out of view, his grin practically splits his face. He smiles all the way home)

[innorality]

16 SHOTS – V. Sanji

~ summary : sanji shotgunning you during sex → the practice of one individual exhaling smoke into the mouth of another.

~ authors note : holy shitttt this idea is so sexy ILL MELTTTT like sanji blowing his smoke into your mouth while smashing ur brains out (brains that have already melted with the amount of nic u inhaled thru him) makes me wanna [redacted] 😖 also this is terribly rushed im sorry 💔

~ content warnings : smoking, shotgunning obvi, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected, 2 orgasms 😼, afab reader, fluff at the end

Intoxicated. that's the only word that you could think of to describe how you felt at the moment. matter of fact, could you even think at all? you felt completely delirious as sanji's cock kept hitting dangerously deep inside you.

"you feel so fucking... good- fuck..." sanji's hips were occasionally stuttering but they never failed to hit those honey-coated spots that made you more woozy than any substance ever could. your mental state was impaired, making it difficult to process the intensity of his thrusts despite being intoxicated and slightly overstimulated. he casually smoked his cigarette, the low burning sound sounding louder than usual.

matter of fact, everything felt too much. you felt like his hands were everywhere at once, your eyes couldn't focus on any object and your ears were ringing, barely registering the sweet nothings sanji was moaning into you ears. "sanji- do... do it again, fuck- please!" a sudden twitch of his dick inside of your warm walls had you interrupting yourself with your own moans.

placing his cigarette between his lips, he says, "better open wide," finally, he chuckles, taking a long drag before taking the cigarette out of his mouth, inhaling once again and finally, with his lips inches away from yours, he blew the smoke out of his mouth and into yours as you inhaled it and blew it out right onto his face. "h-holy shit..." the mix of nicotine and utmost pleasure had you drooling, eyes unfocused as he kept pounding into you, in and out and in and out.

"fuckkk... how was that, hm? you want more sweetie?" he freed the hand that was previously holding your breast hostage and lowered it to use two of his fingers to rub tight and rapid circles around your clit, making you clench around him. "holy sh-shit sanji, fuck! I'm gonna... think m'gonna..!" he cooed in awe of the sight, seeing you like this made him hold back the need to cum right then and there.

he kissed your neck before slowly sucking on it, "I know baby, go ahead, sanji's got you..." his whispered comforting words had you falling over the edge, your cunt clenching over and over again around him, strings of his name followed by a few 'thank you's were being pulled out of between your lips and he savored every second of it—so much that he had to resort to biting his lip in order to not give in to the pleasure and cum with you.

you noticed that sanji didn't stop thrusting and rubbing, even when your high started to die down. "sanji, fuck, wait! I'm s-still sensi- oh my-" you barely had a the time to breath before sanji decided to steal your breath away once again—as overstimulation was slowly taking over every ince of your body, he decided to drag on his cigarette again, slowly killing the space that was between his pink lips and yours once more. knowing what was to come, and even though your entire being was aching for a break, you mindlessly opened your mouth, waiting for him to blow the smoke into your mouth.

when he did, you wasted no time inhaling it again, blowing it out of your nose. and then, when the nicotine started to hit again, it hit hard. you felt like your entire body was limp and boneless, and you were suddenly oversensitive to everything. "did i fuck you too dumb, baby? cute." upon noticing that, sanji took it as a sign to give you everything he had to give and more, thrusting way faster and dangerously deeper, his tip kissing your cervix from time to time. his skilled fingers also got to work, rubbing your clit as if furious.

this time, a wave of blinding pleasure hit you without a warning, your eyes rolling back to your head, temporarily blinding you. you didn't even realize you were gushing before you felt sanji empty his balls inside you, moaning and whimpering while grabbing you tightly. his cigarette was still in between his lips, and his hips were pressed against your pelvis, plugging you while his cum, overfilling your pussy, started oozing out of you.

finally, when you both had calmed down, he pulled out, collapsing on top of you while putting out his cigarette. "we should..." he caught his breath, "we should do this more often," you placed your hand in his hair, playing with it slowly. "oh definitely, I've never squirted like this..." you giggled. "want me to cook you something?" you hummed, "maybe later, I really wanna cuddle right now."

[emotionallychargedtowel]

The em dashes in this example don’t exactly “belong” to Emma (the character) though, right? I’m pretty sure this is a summary of Mrs. Elton prattling. I guess I just don't want it to sound like they're Emma's responsibility, which adding them to her name seems to do. Unless they are her responsibility. Hm.

She is the reader’s point-of-view character. She's arguably the one who summarizes Mrs. Elton in this way. If she took Mrs. Elton more seriously it doesn't seem like her words would be summarized in this way. But then we’d have to read every word Mrs. Elton says here—verbatim. No thanks.

I was wondering if the reason Emma is such an em-dash outlier might be because of Mrs. Elton and/or certain other tiresome or longwinded characters (I'm thinking of Miss Bates, of course), along with Emma’s halfway listening to them.

So I cracked open my copy. And now I'm taking a perfectly good joke and turning it into a detailed discussion of my hyperfixation. Well, hopefully it's of interest to others anyway.

The short version of the answer to my question is that Emma's em dash quotient doesn't seem to be entirely, or even mainly, attributable to any specific character, including any propensity of Emma's as our point-of-view character. It's mostly just that Austen goes all out with the em-dashes all over the place. Now, I love em dashes and overuse them habitually. But the em dashes in Emma seem downright excessive to me.

Check out this bit where Emma and Harriet are looking at Mr. Elton's house:

“…there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing eyes.—Emma’s remark was— ‘There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these days.’—Harriet’s was— ‘Oh! What a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are then yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.’”

They really are extraneous here.

At other points, they seem to serve the usual purposes in dialogue, like making a sentence into a sort of aside or showing when someone has been cut off by another person. And sometimes they accomplish other worthwhile things. For one thing, as in the Mrs. Elton summary, they often do the work of helping to condense a bit of small talk. There's also a part where Miss Bates goes off at length twice in quick succession, in which the em-dashes show how abruptly she jumps from one topic to the next.

Mr. Knightley's response when he thinks Emma is upset because of the revelation of Frank Churchill's engagement to Jane Fairfax makes good use of them in a related way:

"...[S]he found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, 'Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—.' Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, 'The feelings of the warmest friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!' —And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, 'He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate.'"

The em dashes show the abrupt way he switches from one phrase or exclamation to another. If his tone is "steadier" at the end of this passage, the em dashes seem to show how unsteady he was at the beginning of it. He's not just changing his tack repeatedly, he's doing it because he's agitated.

So, yeah. Austen does some worthwhile things with her preponderance of em dashes in Emma. But for the most part, she was just wilding out.

An ode to em

One of the reasons that I love Jane Austen's work is that she loves an em dash. Just how much does she love an em dash? Behold:

That's right, baby—Emma has 3102 em dashes in it! Not hyphens—this is just the count of true em dashes alone. It's glorious.

Let's all bask in the em dashes in this famous Emma passage:

“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no longer—must go and sit in the shade.”

31 em dashes in that sequence alone! And that's not even the whole paragraph—there are 9 more em dashes in the rest of the paragraph before that quotation! Iconic.

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike @syubseokie @jycas @fandom-freak-geek @intaksfav

@itswaffleberry @e3ellie @skz1-4-3 @hoe4yunho @kyeomooniee

@winklehwa @eyesonlyformingi @khjssss @torieisawesome99 @amrose8

@faeriehwa @hongjoongsprincess @iceteainsummer @lac3ybow @aurorajoye

@londonbridges01 @hyukssunflower @hwashua-luv @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @soobnez

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[candykissd]

𝓗𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 🐇

drunk bingo is a crazy time, especially when you're a lightweight. although, harry's there to take care of you.

warnings : alcohol consumption, nausea, mature language, fluff

nats notes : idk how to feel about this, i feel like it could be longer? i'm not sure though, i can never really write long chapters... but lmk what you think !! - luv from nat <3

the flashing lights were enough to make you feel sick, sicker than you already did. drunk bingo was one of your most favourite events, though, it's safe to say alcohol isn't your best friend.

you were already pretty much pissed by the third drink, and yet somehow were managing to pass out coherent sentences.. up until the eight drink, at least.

you were wedged between george and harry, with bach and arthur tv on the ends of the table. at the start of the night you were sure you were going to be the best team, winning all the challenges, calling bingo here and there. but then they decided to give you a few drinks. not a smart move.

"number 63!" simon called out from the platform on which he stood, the various flashing lights surrounding him sending your head spinning into a vortex of feeling sorry for yourself.

"'m gonna get some air.." you slurred out as you stood up, making your way around the tables, not without stumbling into a few, and finding the back door. pushing it open with all your might and leaning against the railing outside.

"she okay?" arthur asked the other boys as he saw her leave. "yeah, probably just so unbelievably shitfaced." harry shrugged as he stood up, following along the trail that you had walked just a minute ago.

deep breathe in, deep breathe out, is what you told yourself, the nauseous feeling creeping up on you again, despite the fact that it felt as though it had only just washed away. you couldn't help but jump in your skin as you felt a hand on your lower back.

"you okay?" sounded harry's familiar voice as he smiled down at you.

"yeah... 'm good." you mumbled out, raising your hand to your forehead as you turned slightly to face him, whilst you still felt ill, you couldn't help but smile up at him.

you'd liked harry for the longest time, and the two of you had somewhat of a flirtation-ship, always taking the piss out of each other, and flirting with one another. but, it was all harmless. you both denied having feelings for each other; even though all of your friends could see through it.

harry's hand slid up your back, his touch light, but enough to make you shiver as his hand made its way to play with your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. "you wanna go home?" he asked, tilting his head, as if he was secretly admiring you, which he wasnt doing a good job at hiding.

you didn't say anything, not feeling the need, nor the ability to speak properly, just nodding and smiling softly at him as he stood up straight.

he turned around and signalled to the others through the door that he was taking you home, and just to carry on with the game, before placing his hands on your shoulders from behind, spinning you around and practically pushing you towards the main road where he called for a taxi.

when the two of you got to your apartment, you fumbled around in your bag for your keys. harry laughing as he saw you struggle, grabbing your bag and pulling out your keys for you, unlocking the door and letting you stumble inside first, shutting the door behind him as he followed you in.

it was a good thing harry good handle is alcohol, as he was damn near sober, sober enough to take care of you properly.

you stumbled into the kitchen, steadying yourself with your hands on the countertop as you looked over at him.

"come on.. let's get you ready for bed." he said with a fond smile as he picked you up bridal style, a childish giggle escaping your lips as your arms wrapped around his neck, just as an extra precaution to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"harry wroetoshaw lewis if you drop me..." you laughed out, throwing your head back as he walked you down the hallway and into your bedroom.

"i won't drop you, love, don't you fret." he shook his head playfully as he plopped you down on the edge of your bed.

you sighed contently as you watched him disappear into your en suite bathroom, coming out with the bottle of micellar water and a cotton wool pad, crouching down infront of you.

without saying anything, he wet the wool pad with the micellar water and helped you wipe the makeup of your face, eliciting a small laugh from you and a smile.

once all your makeup was off he threw the cotton wool pad in the bin and looked at you, "you're so good to me..." you mumbled, titling your head as you smiled at him childishly.

"well, im not prepared to get a bollocking off of you in the morning when you wake up with your makeup on." he laughed out as he stood up.

you flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "these jeans are so uncomfy.." you grumbled out as you swayed from side to side on the bed, as if the action would somehow wriggle them off of your body.

"you wanna get changed?" he asked, looking down at you as you nodded.

"gimme your hoodie." you practically demanded, crossing your arms as he laughed and shook his head.

"so demanding..." he mumbled, pulling his hoodie off over his head, the shirt that he had on underneath riding up slightly, a sight that caused a slight blush to creep up on your face, despite the flush you originally had from the alcohol in your system.

he walked over and stood infront of you, "arms up." he motioned with his hands as well as his words, with you happily obliging as he pulled the top you were wearing off your torso and over your head, placing it on the bed beside you.

you fumbled with the button of your jeans and unzipped them, laying back and lifting up your hips slightly as he pulled the denim off of your legs in one swift movement, before helping you into his hoodie, which you quickly settled into, the warmth of his body still stuck in the fabric, as well as the subtle scent of his cologne.

you let out a soft hum as you crawled over into your bed, snuggling in under the duvet, your head resting perfectly on the pillows.

"you comfy?" he asked, smiling at your drunken state.

"mhm.." you hummed with a small nod, just as extra reassurance. he nodded slightly as your eyes closed, and he knew you'd quickly drifted off to sleep as he made his way to your bedroom door, flicking the light off on his way out, making sure not to make too much noise when leaving your apartment.

the fresh sunlight woke you up as it filtered through the curtains of your room, the sun just directly shining on you as you rolled over with a groan, trying your hardest to shield yourself from the blinding light.

your eyes fluttered open, settling on the glass of water and paracetamol on the bedside table, a small smile forming on your face, your mind flooding with the memories of the previous night, and just how well harry had taken care of you. looking down at yourself and seeing the hoodie your were wrapped up warm in, quickly identifying it is harry's, causing your smile to grow.

although the smile was quickly overtaken by a frown as the pounding in your head grew. pushing yourself up on your arms slowly, and leaning back against the headboard; you reached over for the glass of water and tablet, desperate for some sort of pain relief.

and all you could thing to yourself was:

harry lewis, the man you are.

[sh1ggyluvrr]

Unexpected. (Shigaraki x f! Reader)

Tomura has been acting weird and you've been feeling weird so you decide to take a pregnancy test… No quirks AU! Part 2, Word Count: 1.7K

TW: Pregnancy sex, a little bit of breasts/tit play, breeding kink, other then that it’s pretty vanilla in my opinion…

A/N: I’m so sorry this tool so long—very very busy as usual..

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Pregnancy was not easy for either of us. I knew I'd have a difficult time but this was preposterous. Upon the first trimester, my diet was completely out the door. I'd be dining on any weird and outlandish thing my mind could think of, eating it down like it was my last meal on Earth. My mood plummeted over the span of a few weeks. Tomura was wary of my moods and my cravings. No matter how odd my meal suggestions were, he'd do his best to accommodate me. There was no judgment when feeding me. He gave me tons of space.

I didn’t have a reason to be remorseful, Tomura was doing a lot for me but I still felt… impatient. One slip-up would have me yelling at him. One petty mistake had me fuming and throwing a tantrum. Of course, I'd come to my senses a couple of hours after and realize how shitty I was treating him—but I couldn't control it. I'd get angry for a few hours, cry, eat, sleep for 2, then do it all over again. I was already tired and regretting my decision to keep this spawn of Satan. I think Tomura realized this and decided to take a different approach to caring for me.

He had just gotten home, he was harboring bags of groceries. He took them inside and laid them on the kitchen table. I heard when the door opened and made my way downstairs. “Did you get it? The food I mean….” I said, standing beside him as I looked down at the bags. He nodded, his hand made its way around my waist then his lips made contact with my cheek.

“What are you doing??”

“Being affectionate… like what you said.”

“Stop it, I don't want it right now.”

“Oh, well I couldn't help it. You look so good now that you’re showing…”

I looked down at myself. I'd been so moody lately, that I hadn't even noticed the development of the baby. I pouted, my face becoming that of annoyance. I scoffed a low ‘Whatever’ as I rummaged through the bag for the snacks I had asked for. I took them upstairs, not bothering to make any further conversations with him. At the moment, I didn't care for bonding or affection whatever he wanted to refer to it as, I wasn't having it.

I eventually finished my snacks and threw the empty wrappers in the trash can that was placed beside the bed. I yawned, finally feeling drowsy. My thoughts ran through what he said earlier. ‘Was I already showing?’ I lifted my shirt and looked down at my stomach. I poked at it, no movement. Of course not, it was too early for any of that. I pouted, and feelings of sadness and emptiness rushed over me. I was being such a pain to the one person who was there to help me. I didn't realize the door had been pushed open, revealing Tomura’s figure. He stood there for a moment before I met eyes with him. Tears streamed down my face, the alarms going off in his brain upon noticing the glisten in my teary eyes.

“I'm sorry… I’m being such a—a brat I..”

He walked over to the side of the bed, and it sank under his weight. He placed a gentle hand on my exposed stomach that did, in fact, have a small bump in it. “There’s no need to apologize… I understand it's the baby messing with your hormones,” he murmured in a humbled tone. His hand then trailed up to my face to wipe my tears away. I sniffled, too ashamed to make eye contact with him. His finger made its way under my chin to lift my face. His lips made contact with my soft ones. I didn’t fight nor did I cuss him out. I melted in against him. My lips moved against his.

My hands found their way to his torso. He broke the kiss, his lips making their way down to my jawline and then to my neck, planting sensual kisses against my skin. I made small noises at the contact. He moved his face a few inches away from my skin, and his voice came in a low breathy hum, “Are you sure…?” I nodded without having to think about it.

He gently laid me down on my back before resuming his attack on my neck. I could tell he was leaving big hickies across my neck. “I’ve been missing this…,” he murmured against my supple skin. He placed his hands under my shirt before lifting it over my head. I hadn’t been wearing a bra because of how sensitive my breasts had become. His lips came down on my collarbone then on my chest, then down to my breast. I flinched as I felt the contact. A small moan left me, his lips latched onto my sensitive nipple.

“You’re so sweet… You taste so good..,” He breathed out against my chest. I groped a handful of it and squeezed lightly; I whimpered in response. “Not too rough… they’re—sensitive,” I whined, shuffling a bit under him. He didn't listen, he just continued to suck and grope my tits. “I can’t wait till you start lactating… I’d be suckling off of you for hours, lavishing in your sweet milk,” he huffed out, his breath tickling my nipple.

He placed a wet open-mouthed kiss on my nipple before moving down to the bulge of my stomach. “You’re so full… I wish you could be full like this all the time,” he groaned out. He caressed my stomach softly, uttering the word, ‘Perfect’ while planting a few more kisses on my small baby bump. He made his way down to my inner thighs, spreading my legs apart. He planted a small kiss on my clothed core. His hands made their way to the waistband of my shorts and pantied—gently pulling them down, revealing my soaked cunny. A small string of slick separated as he discarded my undergarments; placing them somewhere on the floor.

His lips made contact with my sensitive clit. His lips latched onto the small bud and sucked on it. “Tomu-! Fuck… please, be gentle…,” I moaned desperately, my hands instantly made its way through his light blue frizzy hair. His head bobbed as he licked on my clit, sucking it gently every now and then. His lips moved down to my cunt. His tongue plunged into my opening and I moaned out his name. My back arched and my head sank into the mattress as desperate moans and pleas left my mouth. “Tomura…I—it feels too good…”

He made a quiet grunt against my cunt causing me to twitch, my walls contracting as my climax drew closer. “I can’t let you cum yet, baby—I haven’t gotten my fix just yet.” He sat up, his hands working to take off his belt. Once off, it, along with his undergarments, were thrown on the floor. He leaned over me once more to place a gentle kiss on my lips, his hard twitching tip making contact with my aching cunt.

“Inside… Don’t tease me..,” I whined helplessly, moving my hips to get a better feel of him. “Patience, baby…,” his voice was like silk as he spoke in my ear. He guided his cock against my entrance—slowly rubbing his veiny girth against my slick-covered pussy. “Mmh…please, fill me up, I need it…,” I begged before he interrupted my whining, “Seeing you beg while you’re already filled with my baby, makes me want to breed you over and over again…,” he slurred as his lips made contact with my skin once more. Small whiny noises left his lips as he rubbed his heat against mine.

I cried out as I felt him plunge inside of me with a sharp thrust of his hips. He groaned out as my gummy walls enclosed around him. “Your pussy is so tight—it’s gripping me so desperately,” he kissed my cheek again. His thrusts were slow and long. I squirmed under him as he continued to slowly plunge his length inside of me. Sweet nothings left his lips; his breathing became labored.

He placed his lips over mine, giving me an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss. I wrapped my arms around his upper body so he was lying atop me. His cock continued to thrust into my soft walls. I arched my back off of the bed, moaning his name. Tomura took that as the initiative to plunge into my pussy faster.

“Mura…please— ah—I feel…so full-!”

I moaned out, gripping the messed-up blankets around us. Low groans and desperate moans left him as well. His cock was soaked in slick and I could tell he was close. My pussy twitched in response to his noises. He paused for a moment, his length twitching inside me. I placed my hand on his arm, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m close too…cum inside of me—I’m already full of your baby…”

I continued to rub his arm, nodding my head at him. He moved inside of me one more time, shaky breaths leaving him once more. My hips twitched and I bit my lower lip. My legs wrapped around his hips forcing him to plunge inside me one last time before I came. My arms gripped his back—my nails plunged into his skin. He whimpered right in my ear. His eyes shut as I felt his muscles tense and his cum filled my womb.

After a minute or two I felt him relax on top of me. We were both out of breath and sweat. He was beginning to get heavy so I pushed him off of me. He rolled onto his back beside me.

“I’ll help you clean up..”

He offered, I shook my head in protest. I turned on my side to face him and cuddled on his side.

“We can clean up in the morning… Stay with me.”

He smiled before kissing the top of my forehead. His arms made their way around my body. The heat that radiated off of him along with his heartbeat lulled me to sleep.

“Good night, my love…”

[bahja-blix]

One Helluva Shit Show! 🤡👇🏽💩

I'm sorry Vivziepop but... I hope you just cancel Helluva Boss 😂

Your show is the Literal definition of an Actual shit show 💩! Nobody wants it anymore like they used to back then. It's never going to be as popular as it used to be!

The specials held up for a little bit at 29M views

Those two Stolitz episodes were consistent but with a drop of 13M views which got us at 16M views

Then EP 11 rolled in and got the worst of it with a 6M view drop that was sitting at 10M views and recently went up to 11M views

Then Stolitz once again rolled in town and the views surprisingly went up at 3M+ increase that got us 14M views but still dripped

And lastly, The whole crew showed up and for the Grand Finale and it got 12M views... A 2M dip for the shows ratings

You've TANKED this show into Oblivion, Down straight into the toilet 📉🚽! The Ratings show, the Views show, and the Units of merch you Still haven't sold that occasionally hit the CLEARANCE RACK titled "Last Chance" that nobody wanted it in the first place, Also show!

The fewer units of merch you make, mainly because you can't produce as much as you used to because the show and it's products don't sell anymore!

Hell, not even people of Your political side wants it! Democrats DON'T Want this! Us LGBT folk Don't want this okay!? NOBODY Wants Your Shit Shows Viv 😂!

It happened in movies and in comics back then where people of your side try to pander to other Democrats and they never show up or help sell their shit because the audience you thought was on your side doesn't want this either mainly because there was never usually an audience to begin with.

Wanna know why Barbie and Oppenheimer were successful Viv? Because they DID something Right!

I don't want this as a Bisexual who's been in the LGBT community for more than a decade and This begs the question of the fact that:

We constantly ask you Vivziepop, who the HELL this shows even supposed to be for and You Yourself can't even answer that! You can't represent jack shit outta Anything or Anyone!

You can't represent, White, Brown, or Black communities, you can't represent the LGBT comm because you think that stereotyping the hell out of everything is necessary, you can't represent the disabled community. You know who represents ALL of that including me? JAPAN! know what else? Anime, Manga, and South Park!

You really sat here and opened your mouth somewhere on the Internet claiming to be a Creative Genius that and I quote "Took inspiration from South Park" really? ARE YOU SURE? Well then, Where's the fun satire and jokes that embrace that? Where's the charm that South Park has? Where the Hell is it?

Did you shove it up your ass? Like how you did shoving fucking Stolitz down everybody's throats because you think that shitty ass ships gonna save the show you wasted Millions of dollars on?

And turn around and claimed to want to make MORE of your crap nobody wants? You seriously think you can handle a THIRD SHOW? Like for Fuck sakes Loona, Can't even Save this show! That undeveloped weasel shit you made who I DID love at one point and Was my favorite until You fucked her All up and wasted large amounts of money on merch and made her into wasted space of screentime can't save this show because the only thing that Will (Scuse me) Might is STOLITZ!!!

The few extra views (As you can see in my screenshot above) certainly prove that! I can't believe that's what people want. A level lower than the depths of Hell itself...

And yet you Also sat here probably on Bluesky most likely of all platforms where you ran and hid because I called you out last time on X and you hid by locking your account down because you got scared over receiving criticism all around you yet again!

Probably because I'm an Actual diverse person and politically balanced in Every direction which is why people think TWICE before coming at me. Despite me being smaller than you, you knew not to fuck with me! But you'll go after other critics... wtf...

You my dear friend Vivziepop, are Weak in Spirit! You can't take the heat from other Democrats or Anyone because You Yourself think everyone who even lightly critiques you are All bigots when You and people of your ilk are the ones who have been creating actual bigotry for Years by Normalizing the fact that your shit shows are synonymous with incompetence. And That is on You!

Here we are as past fans who Used to look up to you Laughing at Your Ass because shit like this is Actually funny to watch!

Four seasons??? Like who the flying Fuck has the budget to pay for that cluster fuck of a catastrophe? Ain't no way you're going to deliver this shit in an age like this especially with the shift in politics! But that darn ol Vivziepop sure do gotta plan hidden up her sleeve and in that big ol head of hers now do ya Vivziepop?

Your brain must be filled with SEWAGE to look at this Fuckness and think that it's still okay! Look, Viv, at the end of the day, a polished turd, Is STILL a Turd!

I'll finish off by taking a look at Gooseworx! Obviously Goose and her amazing indie team is doing something Right! This show BLEW your ass and your shit shows away with one swipe of the pilots sword! 🗡️

While the Halloween Episode did Dip it's still very popular and is still noticeably gaining views faster than Helluva Boss. Notice how the McDonald's AU EP for Spudsys with Gangle's story gained an increase of 7M Views which got us At from 54M views to 61M views and STILL counting because I check Everyday on Gooseworx and Vivziepop's channels to see if anything moves and so far Gooseworx is moving but not that darn ol Vivziepop!

IN CONCLUSION

When it comes to Vivziepop, Let's just Mooove away from All this horse shit, stop allowing her to shove her brain diarrhea down everyone's throats and normalizing said sludge heaps. Let Vivs horrendous garbage heaps of shit just die straight into the depths of Hell where it belongs!

I'm Bajah-Blix and I'll see you All in the next one!

[xoxoyedam]

More Than a Friendship | Coriolanus Snow

pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

tw: none, i guess?

word count: 1.5k

summary: After a very confusing summer, Coriolanus returns to the Capitol where he meets someone who he thinks can help him get over Lucy Gray.

other(s): The reader is meant to be gender neutral although there are some mentions of reader w/long hair and hair bows! Also, this was written very late at night, I was half asleep and have not edited it!

It had been a long day when you first ran into Coriolanus. Being from a well-off family that held your image and education in very high standards, you were not aware of who he was at first.

Your family kept you in the home most times, telling you that was what was best for you. Since you were a child, your education relied on the teachings of more than one governess. You had never joined the Academy with the rest of the children your age. And although you wandered around the Capitol, where the aftermath of the war was still visible in some places, you knew little about it in general. 

Although you knew about the war and how terrible it had been to the people of the Capitol, you never had to live through the hunger and terror that other Capitol kids such as Coriolanus had to. Your parents' wealth stretched very far back. 

Your parents had been unwilling of letting you go at first, until they realized the truth: you had outgrown the wisdom of any governess. You were incredibly smart, and the University would only help you grow. So you begged your parents, and they obliged. 

You started hearing about the hunger games after getting to the University. You were horrified, but everyone else your age seemed to know and be okay with the games. So as not to make yourself seem as more of an outsider, you decided not to pry on the idea of the games further. 

So, when you ran into Coriolanus on your way to campus, you had no clue who he was. You only gave a small apology and hurried off without noticing that a notebook had fallen out of your bookbag. You heard him call after you, but continued, thinking he might want to pick a fight with you for bumping into him.

A few weeks later, you bumped into Coriolanus again. This time, as he was exiting the library. With another small apology, and without realizing it was the same guy, you tried to bolt right past him. However, he pulled you back with a hand on your upper arm. 

"You. I know you." 

You were confused, you didn't think you'd ever seen this man before. 

"Sorry, you must be confused." You answered, although you couldn't help but take a second to admire him. He was tall, at least taller than you. His body was well built, his icy blue eyes pierced through you, seemingly trying to fix a puzzle that was not there. 

And, something else you noticed: his smell. Not in a creepy way, but he had a very distinctive smell. No one else that you knew had this smell. After taking a second to inhale his scent you, realized he smelled like roses. Something you hadn't smelled in a while, but it still lingered in the back of your memory. 

"I asked you what your name was." You startle back to the current conversation, embarrassed at the idea that he could've caught you smelling him. 

"Oh. Sorry. It's y/n." After a pause, you realize that you had just given your name to a complete stranger. One that smelled very good, and you wanted to know his name as well. 

"What about yours?" At this, he raised an eyebrow. He seemed confused, perplexed, almost, that you didn't know his name.

"I'm Coriolanus Snow." He answered, straightening his posture. You could tell he was very proud of his own name, although you weren't very sure why. You had heard that name before; Snow. 

Coriolanus Snow. You had heard of him and something in relation to the games. You try to remember, but as each second passed you could see him become more expectant, more confused. "Umm, yeah. I've heard about you before." That was all you could muster about that. 

"Anyways, sorry. Bye." You add hurriedly, hoping to make it into the library this time, but to no use. Coriolanus held onto your arm again. 

"Excuse me," You say, turning back to look at him. "I'm not sure who you are, but I have somewhere to be so I would appreciate it if you could let me go." 

"Sorry," He continued, as he retracted his hand, "I have something to give you. A few weeks ago, you bumped into me as well." You didn't quite remember the incident, but he continued. "You dropped something, a notebook. I don't have it with me right now, but I can give it back to you whenever you wish." 

"Well, sorry about that day." You answer. You vaguely remember the encounter, but you knew you had been missing a notebook. You just hadn't been sure where you'd put it at all. You had thought maybe it was in your room at home. "I'm going to be in the library a while because I have a project due soon. If you could bring it back that would be great, but I understand if you can't."

Coriolanus nodded, "Yeah. No problem, I'll go get it and bring it back to you." 

"Alright. I'll try to stay around the entrance so you can spot me." You both nodded and finally parted ways.

As you set your things down on the table nearest to the entrance of the library, you thought about how you would repay Coriolanus for keeping your notebook and running to get it for you. Rummaging through your book bag, you found a container with a single cupcake inside it. Your mother had given it to you that very morning, an addition to your usual lunch. It was special, the frosting on top smiling back at you as you held back the urge to eat it. 

Instead, you pushed it to the side and started working. 

On the other side of things, Coriolanus was eager to give you back the notebook. Dashing across campus, he thought about you. You were beautiful in his eyes, and he caught a whiff of something both times he had run into you. Something sweet, something sugary. Although he couldn't place a finger on what it was, he wanted to find out. 

After the first day you two ran into each other, he couldn't stop thinking about you. Both times, he watched your walk away from him, he admired your long curls, decorated with a pretty bow. On the first occasion, it was a white bow, matching your outfit. On this occasion, he realized, the red bow in your hair also matched your outfit. 

After learning your name, he was more excited than ever to know more about you. Especially when you didn't recognize him. At first he was surprised when you had no reaction to his name. He brushed it off as you not paying much attention, or the idea that you simply had no interest in watching the games. 

He had also not recognized your name from the Academy. The more he thought about you, the more he wanted to know about you. Everything about you. 

And he thought, if you knew nothing about his past, that would be better. You would be easier to charm. And most of all, it would be easier for him to forget Lucy with a beautiful person like you by his side. Lucy and her memory could die out back in District 12, while he was here exploring new options. 

After collecting the notebook, Coriolanus dashed back to the library. Before entering, he tried to compose himself. Taking a few deep breaths and making sure he looked alright, he entered the library and spotted you immediately. 

You looked up as Coriolanus approached, his hand holding out the notebook. You took it. "Thank you so much. I wasn't sure where I had left it. I don't have much to give you in exchange for your troubles. But I do have this." 

You pulled the cupcake out from behind a stack of books and handed it to him. Coriolanus took it, gladly. Looking at the cupcake, he knew he had chosen the correct person. While things had gotten better for him and his family when he returned from District 12, he hadn't eaten such a sweet dessert in a while. 

"Our maid made a few more, but my mom gave it especially to me for lunch this morning. I know it's not much, but it is a sign of my gratitude." You add, hoping he wasn't disappointed, although looking at his face, he seemed more than happy to receive it. 

Oh, he had definitely chosen the right person. Knowing that there was more where this came from, possibly a lot more, he was determined to win you over. 

"Thank you," He answered as he opened the container. "You should take a piece, it was yours after all." 

"Oh, don't worry about it, Coriolanus. I can eat one when I get home. It's my way to thank you."

"Coryo." You gave him a confused look. 

"Please, call me Coryo. That's what my friends call me." 

"Alright," You smiled. "Coryo." 

This was only the beginning of something, he thought. He was going to make sure this was more than a friendship. 

[carlarosenakilah]

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

[riorsonhouse]

in the archives

k, so. i decided to post this because why not? i don't know if this idea has been done before, i just could NOT stop thinking about it. like, being a scribe and having sex in the archives, on top of the books no less??

i wrote this at work, on my phone so if the grammar is crazy and things aren't capitalized i'm sorry. if i wrote this on a computer, it would probably look a lot different.

this is really just porn without plot, like i really sat down and wrote ~2k words of smut. not proofread or anything either so again i'm sorry.

minors DNI, please and thank you

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

it’s late, much later than you promised yourself but these books aren't going to read themselves, and you really need to study. the entire space you're occupying is covered with books, no space left on the table as you try your best to absorb as much information as you possibly can.

you rub your tired eyes, trying to focus on the ancient text in front of you. the words are starting to blur together, and you can feel the beginnings of a headache forming at your temples. you've been staring at the pages so long you fear you may start to hallucinate. vaguely you hear the sound of footsteps, and you know you may have to call it a night soon.

no, those are actual footsteps.

heavy footfalls come walking towards you, you only glance up ever so slightly, just enough to notice the Rider black the person is wearing, you sigh.

“Riders are not allowed to be here right now,” you start the speech you've uttered a million times now, anytime a Rider wanders in well past their allotted time. “you can return at a later time when the Archives…” you trail off when you look up completely and meet Xaden’s eyes. he’s got his signature smirk on his face, the on that makes your heart skip a beat.

you glance around quickly, making sure there's no one else in the Archives at this late hour. your heart is racing, both from his presence and the thrill of doing something you probably shouldn't. the way he's looking at you makes your breath catch in your throat.

“how did you even get…?” your question hangs in the air, because Xaden can do anything he sets his mind to. “did you need something?”

“that's a loaded question,” he counters, and then he's standing next to you, looking over your shoulder at the many, many books you have spread out.

“what are you reading?” he asks, bending so that his lips are right at your ear. “anything interesting?” his hands find themselves on your waist.

“maybe not for you, but to me, this is all interesting.”

he laughs lightly, turning his head and kissing the side of your neck gently. “are you at a place where you can take a break?”

“maybe…” you lean into his touch, almost forgetting for a second where you are.

“i’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says, his voice low and rough. his warm breath tickles your skin as his lips brush against your ear.

"let me show you just how much i've missed you," he whispers, and the sound sends shivers down your spine. you can barely form a coherent thought as his hands begin to wander, exploring your body with a familiarity that makes your heart race.

“we're in the middle of the Archives,” your voice betrays how aroused you are. you want to sound firm, but your words come out heavy, laced with your desire for him, even if you are doing something that would easily get you kicked out of the Quadrant.

“looks to me like we're surrounded by bookshelves,” he he slowly brings his hands up your body, stopping just below your breasts, waiting to see if you're comfortable. “and you're the only Scribe dedicated enough to be in here this late…”

his flattery makes you roll your eyes, but you find yourself leaning more into his touch, his body is all muscle behind you, his scent is filling your nose and making it hard to think. he reaches up to cup one of your breasts then, and a small moan from you has him nearly melting.

“can i taste you?” he asks, bring his hands back down to your waist. you nod, not trusting your voice to not squeak. “you're all i think about at night when i have my hands on my cock,” he says, moving away from you slightly, you almost want to complain about the loss of contact but you shudder as he bends down, gathering up your robes to pull them up over your hips, exposing your underwear.

“i think of the sounds you make,” he stands up again, kissing your neck again, his tongue wet against your flushed skin. “how tight you feel wrapped around me when you come.”

you very nearly moan at his words, he’s always been vocal, but gods. you feel the rush of arousal flow through your body, settling low in your stomach.

his palm touches your lower back, gently sliding up between your shoulders, pressing your upper body forward. you find yourself laying on top of the tome you were studying.

“Xaden, these-” your breath hitches as he lightly kicks your feet apart, leaving your legs spread. you clear your throat, his fingers pull down your underwear, the cool air hits your core and you shiver.

“Xaden, these books are older than Basgiath.” it's a warning, but you're not sure who you're giving it to. he certainly doesn't care, he's sinking to his knees behind you.

“we have to be careful around- oh,” your words die in your throat, a moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it as he licks from your clit to your entrance with a broad swipe of his tongue.

there's a deep rumble of a moan that escapes from his mouth, and the vibration of his has your knees weakening. you turn your head enough to see him, and the sight of him on his knees behind you pushes you even closer to an orgasm.

you feel his fingers at your entrance and you know you won't last much longer. there's just something about his fingers that always does you in, he’s magical with them. he pushes two inside you, curling them against the spot that has you seeing stars. with his fingers buried deep inside you, his mouth goes back to your clit, sucking lightly at the sensitive bud, and that's what pushes you over the edge.

“i’m gonna- fuck, Xaden, i’m-” your orgasm steals your words, but he knew you were going to come anyways, you could feel his smirk against your pussy.

he lets you catch your breath for a moment, he stands up and cleans his face a bit before he helps you stand up and turn around to face him. he looks handsome like this, under the mage lights having just eaten you out.

you reach up, running your fingers through his dark hair, tugging gently as he leans down to kiss you. his tongue traces your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you gladly give. you can feel him hard against your thigh, the evidence of his own arousal making you ache with need all over again.

“you're…really good at that,” it's all you can get out. there’s no other words for what he just did. he chuckles slightly at your comment.

"i'm always happy to show you just how good i can be for you," he says, his voice low and gravelly. he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver with anticipation.

he lifts you enough to set your ass on the table. you move some of the more important books away, in your haste, one gets knocked off the table, a gasp almost leaves your mouth as you watch it fall only to be scooped up and deposited on a nearby table by shadows. Xaden’s lips are on yours a half a heartbeat later.

the kiss is all heat, swirling tongues and moans. you can taste yourself on him, and it's so sinful and so filthy you feel yourself clench around nothing, a whimper falling from your mouth. you reach down towards his pants, fighting with trembling hands to get them down.

his hard cock springs free and you both take a deep breath. his hands grip your thighs and he pulls you towards the edge of the table so that he can line himself up with your entrance. he runs the head of his cock through your folds once, twice, coating himself in your release before he angles himself downward and sinks into you in one fluid motion.

the fullness is almost overwhelming, but it feels so good it nearly takes your breath away. “Xaden,” you sigh, your head ripping back in pleasure as he starts up a solid pace. with one hand on your hip to hold you steady, he grabs you by the back of the neck with the other, lifting your head back to face him.

“look at me when i’m fucking you,” he says, accentuating his request with sharper pushes of his hips, his hand reaching bf between you to rub against your clit. “wanna see the pretty faces you make when you take my cock.”

the only sounds in the Archives is your wetness, both of your moans, and the sound of skin slapping together, the mixture of it all turning you on more, only adding to the sound more. Xaden’s eyes wander your body as he fucks you, but when his eyes travel down to where you're connected, where his cock is pounding in and out of you he nearly crumbles.

“look at you, you're doing so good for me, taking me so well,” his praise shamelessly goes straight to your clit.

“and you’re doing it right here in the Archives, anyone could walk in a see you right now. i could bathe us in shadows so we're hidden but,” he pulls out suddenly, flipping you back onto your stomach, you use your hands for leverage and arch your back, he slide back in and begins his pace again. the wind nearly leaves you at how deep he is from this angle. “you wouldn't want that though, would you? i bet you want someone walk in and see me fucking you like the little slut you are.”

the moan you let out is guttural. every thrust of his hips sends his cock deeper and deeper inside of you and he's all you can think of. Xaden floods all your senses until you're nothing more than a whimpering mess on the table for him.

his hands are gripping your hips so tightly you know there will be bruises tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to care. you can feel another orgasm building rapidly, your walls fluttering around his thick cock as he drives into you mercilessly. "Xaden, please, i'm so close," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.

his pace falters a little bit, his thrusts growing sloppier and he chases his own orgasm.

"come for me," he commands, his voice rough with need. "come on my cock." his words combined with a particularly deep thrust send you over the edge, your second orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure. your walls clench around him rhythmically, and with a deep groan, he follows you over the edge, spilling inside you as his hips stutter to a stop.

for a few seconds after, you both stay there panting. there's ringing in your ears, and you're fairly certain that if you tried to move, you'd simply fall over. eventually, brought back to earth by Xaden pressing soft kisses along your back, over your clothing. it's a sweet gesture that's vastly different from what he was just doing.

he pulls out gently, and you nearly whimper at the loss of him. he helps you stand, and you can feel your knees shaking slightly. with gentle hands, he helps you fix your clothing, pressing one last soft kiss to your temple. you take a moment to straighten up the books on the table, making sure nothing was damaged during your activities.

he pulls his pants back up, tucking himself back in. “are the books okay?” he asks, you're certain he's mostly joking but you answer anyways.

"they're fine," you say with a small laugh, running your fingers over the spines of the books. "though i should probably get back to studying now."

he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "or we could go back to my room and continue this somewhere more... comfortable."

“let's not push our luck too much in one night,” you say, kissing him quickly, “zihnal has been kind enough to us so far, let's not test his patience,”

Xaden chuckles, his breath warm against your neck. "as you wish," he says, pressing one final kiss to your shoulder before stepping back. "but don't study too late. i'll see you tomorrow?"

you nod, but you can't honestly say you will. the odds of you and Xaden being able to see each other regularly are not great, but you both like to pretend regardless. “see you tomorrow.”

he leaves quietly, his footsteps fading into the depths of the Archives. you turn back to your studies, but your mind keeps drifting to the warmth of his touch, the taste of his kiss. with a sigh, you force yourself to focus on the ancient text before you, knowing that these precious moments with him are all you can have for now.

[theocddiaries]

Abraham: Shadow, I need you to file today’s documents. Shadow: But-- Abraham: You know how the computer works, right? Shadow: Yes, but-- Abraham: Then get to it. Shadow: But, Commander, my shift is over. And I worked overtime yesterday. I'm not like the computer, I have a life outside of here. Abraham: Yes. A life you pay for with the money I give you. And as the one paying you, I’m telling you that you’re working overtime all month, we’re swamped, and you’re the only agent who doesn’t need sleep. Understand? Shadow: Yes… Abraham: Good. And since you're staying late, clean this place up. [Shadow sighs and leaves Abraham’s office. He sits in his cubicle. Sonic arrives, greeting a few coworkers leaving for the day. He walks over to Shadow and leans against the wall.] Sonic: Hey! Got much left? I ended up buying the tickets online in case there’s a crowd. It’s the 10 PM show. Shadow: Sorry, I’ll pay you back for the tickets. I can’t go. I’m doing overtime. Sonic: Again? Didn’t you work overtime yesterday? Shadow: Yeah, but Abraham says I’m doing overtime this whole month. Sonic: This whole month? He can’t do that. Shadow: Well, he did. Sorry, I really will pay you back for the tickets… Sonic: The tickets don’t matter to me… I imagine it was a huge scene when you told him no before he convinced you, which I can't get. Shadow: Yeah… well, I didn’t exactly say no. I mean, broadly speaking, I told him yes. Sonic: Shadow, I can’t believe it. Shadow: What do you want me do? He’s my boss now. Sonic: But he can’t treat you like that. You have rights. Shadow: Everyone else, yes. But I, I’m basically property in here. Sonic: I don’t care! I won’t let him take advantage of you, and I definitely won’t let you think you deserve this treatment! Abraham [comes out of his office, ready to go home]: What’s all this noise about? Sonic: Shadow needs to tell you something. Abraham: Go ahead. Shadow: …I don’t remember where we keep the cleaning supplies. Abraham: In the basement cupboard. I have to be on top of everything around here. [leaves] Sonic [sighs] Shadow: Sorry. Sonic: It’s fine. Just… I’ll clean while you do that. We said we’d spend tonight together, and we will, even if this doing this. Shadow: Okay… Sonic [gives him a pat on the shoulder]: And tomorrow we start working on you learning to say no. Shadow: Okay. Sonic: Exactly my point.

[slut-strut-satan]

Hi 👋 I just saw your post about the inconsistencies in DA canon, and I very much agree: some things look like the writers themselves are unreliable narrators when it comes to some parts of the lore. But I wanted to ask something - and I hope you don't mind - as someone who isn't a Solas fan and hasn't spent as much time analyzing his story as maybe you did. I see so many vastly different interpretations re: the Veil I'm starting to feel like I'm losing my mind. A lot of people strongly believe that tearing down the Veil wouldn't end the world, but Solas himself says in Trespasser: "I will save the elven people, even if it means this world must die." If you ask him why he helped you with the Qunari plot if he intends to destroy the world anyway, he says he doesn't want people to suffer before it's necessary (which implies that at some point it will be necessary). He seems genuinely sorry for what he believes he has to do. Doesn't it mean he confirms the consequences of removing the Veil would be world-ending? If it doesn't mean the world would be literally destroyed and a great number of people killed, why did he phrase it like this? Why make an enemy out of the Inquisitor and make them believe he is planning to destroy the world if it isn't the case?

Solas rarely speaks in straight lines. He uses metaphors and is generally very vague, which is how he gets around lying. He doesn’t lie, he disguises the truth.

I’ve never understood why people thought he was speaking literally there, because Solas ‘destroyed’ the world of the Elves and yet Elves are very much still around. Changed, but around. Dwarves, too. There’s no reason to believe everyone would just drop dead the minute the Veil comes down, especially since people can go in an out of the Fade physically with no major consequences. I firmly believe Solas would not take action against the Veil if he thought it would just end all life on Thedas. That’s just not the character. People can hate on him all they want, but Solas values life. That’s just canon. He wouldn’t be trying to do what he views as saving the world if he did not care about the people living in it.

And if that’s not enough for you, Solas himself directly tells us that modern people would survive to see the new world. He’s had multiple lines implying that he fully expects the current inhabitants of Thedas to be capable of surviving in the Restored Thedas, hes just not naive enough to pretend casualties won’t be inevitable.

When you ask him what his plan was, he tells us that he took precautions to lessen the loss of life. The estimate he gives us in regards to potential casualties is ‘thousands.’ And whether or not you think a few thousand people is an acceptable sacrifice is irrelevant right now. The point is that he’s not recklessly throwing lives away for no reason. Solas believes that Thedas will not survive long term in its current state and that restoring it to its natural state is the ethical thing. The Veil is an ecological disaster. Think of it as something similar to a Climate Change situation.

We know that the Veil had been growing weaker and weaker over time because it’s been established that mass death and violence weakens it. And Veilguard might not want you rememver that part, but modern Thedas is a hell world of violence, disease, and oppression. It is not a healthy or nice place. Spirits, Mages, and Elves (Solas is all three of these things) are routinely, systematically, and horrifically oppressed, and the Veil has contributed factors which unfortunately lead to this state of oppression. Again, DATV doesn’t want you to know any of that, but they can’t sweep these things under the rug for anyone who’s played the other games.

Solas created the Veil because he’d been forced to make an impossible choice for the good of the world. No one in Thedas would be alive today without him. Now, he’s been forced to make an equally impossible one, and ultimately he decides that he is morally responsible for undoing the damage wrought by the Veil. This is not to make himself happy. This is not selfish. This is a character sacrificing their own sense of self for the sake of duty. His conscience compels him to try and right what he perceives as a terrible wrong. I’m not sure why this is meant to be a negative quality but I’m not a sociopath so I couldn’t hazard a guess.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Lmk au idea.

Wukong isn't MK's teacher. At least, not in the same way he is in the show.

In this idea I had randomly pop into my head I'm thinking that Wukong had gone above and beyond simply vanishing for 500 years and hiding out on FFM. He straight up changed his identity and went into hiding as a mortal. He says fuck off to being a demon god, fuck off to all the gods and celestials and all his titles. He retires, fully and completely, passing his crown off to his Stalwarts and just becomes a wanderer traveling around, doing odd jobs and never staying in one place too long.

At some point over the centuries he ends up back in the village that he left his staff in, or rather, whay it became. A sprawling metropolis of a city that a person trying to disappear can easily do so. He set up shop, having had many hats over the years he's able to easily pick up a humble job nobody would blink twice at. Mechanics are always sorely needed in large cities after all.

One day at his shop a hauntingly familiar fave appears at his doorstep. Pigsy's truck had broken down while he was out with baby MK on a supply run and Wukong's shop had been the closest mechanic they could find. Wukong could sense something was special about MK, but not what or why and after he fixed up the truck he spent the next hour or so reminding himself that he is not Sun Wukong anymore, he is not part of that life anymore. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wukong's mechanic work was something Pigsy liked, a lot. The truck was running smoother than if ever did before and the price was a steal! Wukong quickly became the favorite mechanic shop for Pigsy's Noodles and MK began to show up more often at the mechanic shop (he crashed a lot of stuff ok). Wukong ends up becoming the cool mechanic dude who helped teach MK how to mod his hoverboard and would often drop cryptic but helpful advice to the kid, Wukong having settled with the idea that he can look after the kid at least since it doesn't look like Zu Baijie's decendant or the kid were going to go away anytime soon. This led to meeting Tang and Mei, which were... experiences. And Wukong just ends up being a family friend to the Noodle Gang who likes cold vegetarian noodles.

Then a Hero is Born happens. Wukong hadn't been there for that experience. He was "on a supply run" when DBK was freed, he was in a different town entirely. So he wasnt physically present when MK became the Monkie Kid. It doesn't mean he wasn't completely uninvolved, though. Wukong isn't stupid, he knows DBK would eventually be freed, and he also knew it was possible someone else would pick up his staff. Afterall the staff had chosen him, not the other way around. It isn't unfeasable to imagine it'd pick another now that it's owner has put it down. Plus it isn't entirely impossible to imagine whoever it is would seek him out, he was the last known person to wield the Ruyi Jingu Bang after all.

He left a series of visions and astral projected recordings in his cave. The first being triggered should anyone breach his cave, the vision MK first sees when he enters Water Curtain Cave, only it doesn't stop at Wukong just running off. The projection speaks.

Wukong's recording. Looking as laid back and amused as can be: If you're seeing this, congrats! You got past my unstoppable barrier! Unfortunately I'm afraid that you won't be able to find me, as I would have been long gone from this place and am retired! So if your here for an autograph I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.

MK: WHAT!?

Wukong's recording, becoming serious and almost sad: If you are a friend, however. I want to say I'm sorry, but please don't go seeking me out. I am hanging up my crown and title as the Great Sage and the Monkey King, and I don't not wish to be disturbed. Over the centuries I've come to realize my whole life I've done nothing but hurt the people I care about, so... for everyone's sake... I'm disappearing so that I can't hurt anyone again. Ever. And if you find my staff, I'm sorry I can't be there to help you. But I'll give you a piece of advice I learned, believe in yourself. Even just a smidge can make all the difference.

MK is gobsmacked at the thought that Sun Wukong had just up and left like that, that he's been gone for a long time and won't be able to help. He decides if Wukong wasn't there to be a hero anymore, he'd do it for him. Just a smidge makes a difference, right?

And so the Monkie Kid becomes the Monkie Kid. Over the next season or so he struggles a lot with his powers, not having a proper mentor. See, unlike the rest of the Noodle Gang, since Wukong wasn't physically present when MK became the town hero he isn't ever explicitly told it's MK. MK literally just forgets to mention it to him, but he does his best to help where he can. Giving advice where he can.

Most everything else was done without his input, altho MK did find it weird that the Calabash seemed to think his mechanic friend was the Monkey King. It's the first hint he ever has that Wukong was not as he seemed, but he write it off as him simply thinking of Wukong as a mentor figure since he's always been supportive and gave helpful advice and the Calabash substituting the Monkey King for Wukong.

Even the Macaque episode was done mostly without his input, altho a certain black furred monkey was not happy that his attempt to lure Wukong out didn't work at all. Wukong had been busy with renovations to expand the shop at the time, thus where the "step into the strike" advice came from since MK had been helping Wukong with tearing down the wall.

The big reveal about Wukong being the Monkey King only happens during Revenge of the Spider Queen, when Wukong has no choice but to step in as the Monkey King. And believe me, he is absolutely not happy about the matter. He doesn't run away once everything is done and over, but it's very clear that he is upset by the way he avoids everyone and jsut sits curled up on the rooftop. When asked why he never told them, especially knowing MK was using his staff, he first points out MK had never explicitly told him about the whole Monkie Kid business so he had no reason to "know" anything about it. Then he jsut points to the destroyed city.

Wukong: This is what happens everytime the Monkey King appears. Destruction, death, and chaos. I didn't want to be that anymore.

This spun off from a convo on how Wukong likely felt abandoned by his mentor(s), beginning with Subodhi, the allies he made in Heaven before the war, Guanyin, and even Tripitaka when the monk passed.

Wukong, going by just "Wu", drifting along the centuries living a mortal life. Packs up and leaves whenever conflict or war breaks out, or when people start to get suspicious.

His number one rule? Never get attached. Never again...

He becomes a mechanic (a real "grease monkey" if you will). Although he loves medicine and herbalism, it simply has too many paper trails. Also cars are fun to tinker with and don't talk back most of the time. Less likely to make a connection.

He eventually returns to the village where he lay his Staff down for good. Just seemed right coming up to the 500 year anniversary of one of his biggest regrets. The village has since become a sprawling mega-city, open to humans and demons alike. There he plants his roots.

The biggest shock of his life comes when he sees his brothers faces and souls all over again. Three in new bodies, and one in the same. A certain fish demon had pretended he didnt recognise him, and Wu returned the courtesy - seems he wasn't the only one from the old days to retire.

He wonders if it was the right decision to settle in Megapolis...

Until the day Pigsy knocks on Wu's shop, breathless and carrying a wiggly baby human (?). His food truck had given up the ghost and the cook desperately needed repairs asap! Wu simply couldn't turn him away.

Through the conversation and the repair process, the wiggly baby maybe-human had stared at the monkey demon with absolute wonder. Wu isn't sure why until he overhears the cub blabble something into his father's ear.

MK: "Mon-ken." Pigsy, fond sigh: "No MK, that's not the Monkey King. He just looks like the drawing in your Baba's book." Wu, nearly drops the truck on himself: "Eh?" Pigsy, little embarassed: "Oh! Sorry. The piglet is convinced that you're the Monkey King. My partner researches mythology and stuff, and he fills the kid's head with all sorts of ideas." Wu, rolls out from under the truck with a cheeky smile: "It's no problem. You'd be surprised how often I get mistaken for him! Think its the fur." (*Wu shares a glance at MK, the baby human is still staring at him unconvinced. Wukong makes a unsubtle shush motion and winks - causing the little human to wiggle once more with joy. Pigsy sighs fondly once more, knowing that the boy will most definitely hold this moment dear throughout his childhood*)

With that one chance meeting, Wukong breaks his number one rule; Never get attached.

It's not his fault he fixed the truck so good that Pigsy became a loyal customer! And the pig demon began tipping him with free cold vegetarian noodles. And that the scholar at the shop and him started info-dumping together! And that the little human began seeing him as a beloved uncle...

Oh yeah. Wu is in too deep. Hopefully nothing too chaotic happens within the next few years or so >:3

You can say a certain monkey demon nearly had a heart attack when he learned that someone had finally taken up his Staff - and that it was his little buddy!! Also Sandy is back in the gang, so they can't pretend that they dont know each other for long.

Wu would *like* to step up and reveal himself as the Monkey King to MK - but he feels that would just make things so much worse. The kid's trust in him would shatter immediately. So it's better to leave his projections on FFM to do the physical training, and for Uncle Wu to provide him with much-needed emotional guidance.

Sharing this dm you sent in particular based on the "Macaque" episode cus it's a tasty piece of dialogue:

MK: "Is it really better to focus your power into every attack?" Wu: "Hm, that's a lonely way of thinking. And dangerous. Look at this hammer I use for example, it's strong but if I'm not careful an just bang away at metal, it'd hit hard but it'd cause more damage to myself and the people around me. But if I were to... step into the swing so to speak and not depend on the hammer but rather my own strength, it's easier to control and has less risk of hurting myself."

He had been doing renovations on the wall to expand his business at the time, thus why he was banging at the wall with a hammer.

Eventually the episode ends with Macaque calling desperately out to the battlefield - almost begging for his king to reappear. The shadow monkey is so occupied in his despair and anger that MK manages to slip free and reclaim his power.

MK promptly bullies Macaque into actually mentoring him. Macaque chuckles at the nerve of this kid, and agrees - but only as a truce until Wukong returns. After that, Macaque expects a rematch.

Unironically loving this AU